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hier--soir · 7 months

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a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause. Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning. “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his.

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.”

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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jaylver · 8 months

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CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE — P.SH

SYNOPSIS: Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that.

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst, (attempted) he fell first but she fell harder, slowburn-ish

WARNING(S): profanities, slight violence, suggestive content (no smut), drinking, partying, sunghoon being secretly obsessed (aka a loverboy), douchey football juyeon appearance

WC: 19k

AUTHOR NOTES: keeping my a/n short since i wrote a message at the end of the fic (please read it <3). thank you for the patience and for the love you gave throughout the series! i can't believe it has ended and i swear i'll be writing drabbles for this. enjoy this long fic as the last installment for the series. please leave feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated too! muah!!

part 4 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

THIS SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENING TO YOU NOW, BUT IT ACTUALLY WAS.

Never in a million years would you have expected yourself in some random guy’s bed, naked and a throbbing head reminding you of last night's mistake. Blacked out, you were too drunk to even remember making a callous decision in fucking a guy’s name you couldn’t even remember now. Wow.

How did you even manage to bring yourself into this situation? Well, a frat party might explain it. Letting Wonyoung and Yujin drag you to their favourite frat party was already the first mistake, but when you discovered good booze and consumed too much of it, you ended up wandering off and found a hot man, not turning back, instead you ventured into his bed. Horniness along with a pinch of alcohol could really cloud someone’s mind and awareness, unfortunately you could prove that fact since you were a victim of it.

It was currently 4 am and the man you fucked last night was dead asleep with his back facing to you while on the other hand, you were wide awake, swallowing whatever information you got from last night. You remembered him as a charming, flirty, funny white headed man who had a big dic—heart—excuse you, that was equally respectful and polite.

He was just as handsome, gorgeous and breathtaking as his personality. Bright eyes, pale skin that complimented his hair, a pair of dimples that had you swooning, and legs long enough to outshine a professional model. Hell, how was he not a model in the first place?

Whatever happened yesterday night stays in the depths of his bed. Period. Though you couldn't deny his … skills, and you wouldn't mind another night with him, yet something in you was rejecting the idea of seeing him again and determined to have him remain as a one night stand.

Frankly speaking, you didn't want to leave this bed of his at all. Was he a morning stay in bed cuddling type of person? You wouldn't know and you're scared to know. What if he kicks you out? You needed to save yourself the embarrassing walk of shame in the morning, so instead, you slowly slipped out of bed, making sure he was still sound asleep before scurrying out.

The clothes scattered on the floor were unsurprising. You picked up your undergarments and the skimpy black dress you wore, pulling it on quickly as if your life depended on it. You weren’t cold hearted enough to leave without saying nothing, that was too low. Taking the nearest piece of paper you could find, you wrote down a few words of farewell and thanked him for the night, cringing all while you wrote it. Gosh, this was shabby but it would have to do.

Rounding your things up, your handbag and phone in hand as you buckled your heels strap, you quietly and sneakily exited from his dorm room, thankfully no signs of his roommates were around. Now, the problem was walking back to your part of the dorms in the cold of the night. Exciting, wasn’t it?

The moment you got back, the dorm was silent and dark. Wonyoung was asleep in her room, but Yunjin was lying on the couch with her hair in a mess and you knew she was going to have the worst hangover in the morning. You crept past her sleeping figure and went into your own room, letting out a sigh of relief before dropping into the comforts of your bed. Never again.

“HE WAS GOOD WITH HIS HANDS?”

“Can you tone it down!”

Having breakfast the next morning in the campus’s cafeteria was probably a bad choice to give your two friends a recap. Yunjin was still in a daze, half invested, whereas Wonyoung was too invested, screaming at every detail.

“What’s his name?” Yunjin asked, taking a big gulp of her homemade hangover remedy.

“Well…”

“You forgot?” the two girls before you exclaimed in surprise and horror, the embarrassment made you sink further into your chair.

“It’s horrible, I know!” you buried your face into your hands pathetically, but whenever you closed your eyes, you thought of him, like he’s haunting you or something, which didn’t help you feel better.

“You weren’t even half as drunk as Yunjin, how could that happen?” Wonyoung said while Yunjin mumbled under her breath about not being that drunk.

“Gosh, I wonder too,” you jabbed at your plate of food disheartedly. “All I remembered was his silvery white hair,”

At the sound of his description, Wonyoung’s ears perked up, figuring the interesting part of your one night stand sounded oddly familiar, having a slight clue on who it was. But before she could actually piece everything together, your words interrupted her train of thoughts.

You were still lamenting about the possible love of your life. “I don’t think he even knows my name either,”

“Did you at least leave your name?”

“I left my initials if that helps …” you faltered when you saw the disappointed looks on your friends faces.

“I’m betting on Prince Charming to look for you.”

You didn’t think much of your one night stand after that, continuing on with your day and getting yourself busy. That’s when your mother suddenly called you up, thinking it was a normal phone call asking about you and your life recently, until she started talking about a house party that she wanted you to go to, hinting a ‘defined’ young man would be there for you. Sure, as if a hot man was just waiting for you that easily.

Nonetheless, you accepted the invite in order to avoid pissing her off and show some decent courtesy to her friend’s house party. Maybe, just maybe, it was going to be better than you expected. There was one thing your mother made sure to remind you constantly before the party: dress well. What she was hiding up her sleeve was something you wouldn't know until then. ‘Save me’ was written over your expression when you realised she had intentions hidden behind her sweet smile.

"You know Mrs Park's son is perfect, right? He'd be a great boyfriend!" Your mother swooned as you two walked hand in hand towards her friend, Mrs Park's house.

"Mum, can you stop setting me up with every one of your friend's sons," you groaned, pulling on the ends of your dress that you begrudgingly wore to appease your mother.

"Well, you're in college with a love life that's dead. I'm trying my best at playing cupid here,"

Fairs.

"Whatever," you waved her off dismissively, though knowing she was right.

Your love life was quite a mess. A jock ex that you still bump into on campus, a short lasting situationship with a douchey footballer, desperate times, and a short lived crush from your marketing lecture. Safe to say you were going nowhere and your mother was unfortunately correct.

Leading you to this point in life where you had to witness your mother trying to set you up with her friends' sons in the middle of a house party. All of which were ogling you but you were not reciprocating the same energy. They were nice guys, but did they catch your eyes? Not really.

The main host of the party, Mrs Park, soon appeared and welcomed everyone. When she approached you two, your mother made sure to pull you close, whispering into your ear. "Her son's a total catch,"

"What—?"

"I'm so glad to see you!" Mrs Park hugged your mother happily, all while you were slightly dazed and confused from your mother's words. Where was the 'total catch' anyway?

Mrs Park and your mother exchanged a few words and some gossip before her attention turned to you. "You're Y/N, right? I can't believe your mother took this long to bring you out!"

You laughed stiffly, eyeing your mother, not knowing what to say next. "I'm glad to have finally meet you now,"

"Me too," she patted your shoulder, and it was your mother's turn to speak, thank goodness.

"Where's your son?" your mother glanced over at you momentarily, a scheming smirk telling you she was planning something to get you close with Mrs Park’s son.

"Oh! He's upstairs. He'll be down sooner or later, don't worry,"

Your mother nodded, persisting on getting more information about him. “If I’m not wrong, I'm pretty sure Y/N goes to the same college as him,”

“Is it?” Mrs Park looked delighted, raising a brow in interest. “You’ll get along with him just fine.”

To say you were bored and uninterested was an understatement. Don’t get the wrong memo, the food was great and Mrs Park was an amazing, accommodating host, but the lack of company made you feel a little too lonely. Your mother was off with her group of friends somewhere upstairs, leaving you and the other people around your age to linger on the first floor. However, they somehow knew each other while you were completely unfamiliar with them. Talk about the feeling of missing out.

Drinking in the middle of the day would most likely disappoint your doctor if he knew, but you just couldn’t resist it since the bottle was practically there. You poured yourself some and took your cup outside, getting to take advantage of the quietness in the garden lounge and escaping the loud chatters inside. A sigh of relief escaped your lips once liquid courage hit and you leaned back, closing your eyes temporarily.

Maybe it was the effect of alcohol that’s making you think of him, but the image of the guy from the other night appeared in your head with no warning whatsoever. Real sudden and almost too unexpected. Was he lingering in your subconscious for too long? Had you secretly never let him go all this while? To be fair, he was too gorgeous to let go.

Your short lived peace and quietness was broken after you heard some shouts and cheers from inside. It sounded nearly like a concert or a celebrity’s appearance, but wouldn’t that be impossible? You turned your head around in curiosity, and your sight landed on a tall man that stood out among the bunch.

That hair … it was familiar, too familiar. His back was facing you and you couldn’t tell who it was, but something internally told you this wasn’t going to be a great time. He was greeting the people around, slowly but surely turning around, until his front was finally facing you. You swore you almost lost your grip on the cup just then.

Platinum white hair, a smile that showcased his charming dimples and sharp fangs-like teeth, long legs and great proportions. Mr one night stand.

It was as if the world was going against you at that moment. Just when you thought of him, he appeared. Did you actually manifest this man? It was too good to be true. You were probably hallucinating, right? The alcohol was messing with your brain. This was why you should stop drinking—

He met your eyes.

You cursed the glass panel’s existence. If only it was a solid wall, he wouldn’t have spotted you and realisation wouldn’t have set in his eyes.

Eyes widened, franticness filled your system. The panic set further in stone when you saw him excusing himself and approaching gradually, his long legs carrying him towards you.

You tried ducking, or finding a hiding spot nearby, but it was impossible for either of those options. Accepting your fate was all you could do as you heard the glass door slid open, his footsteps getting louder.

"You alright?"

Hell no.

You glanced up, flushed from embarrassment. Clearing your throat and regaining your posture as you slowly stood up, avoiding his stare. "I'm … fine,"

"Were you trying to hide?"

"I—no—I was tying my shoelaces,"

"You're wearing heels,"

You looked down at your feet, then back at the man before you.

"That's—uh—nothing—"

"You are hiding from me,"

"From you? Don't get ahead of yourself," you scoffed, trying to mask your panic.

"Okay then," he let out an amused chuckle, earning an annoyed eye roll from you. "I know we both probably don't want to talk about that night—"

"Right," you mumbled, accidentally cutting him off briefly.

"So, I was wondering if we could start afresh? We were both drunk and have almost no memory of that night. Plus, you seem cool and I really, really want to get to know you better,"

"Even if it mean we fucked?"

"Even if it mean we fucked," he repeated, shrugging slightly. "People fuck and stay friends all the time,"

"Are you sure?"

He made a face. "Kinda?" He extended his hand out, a meaningful spark in his eyes. "I'm Sunghoon,"

"Sunghoon," you echoed his name, thinking how much he fitted his image. Tall blond Sunghoon, who was a sweet guy out on the streets but a freak in the sheets, got it. "I'm—"

"There you are!"

For once, you were thankful your mother had blocked a man's advancements.

"Mom?"

"Mrs L/N?"

She had a look of satisfaction, eyeing you with a cheshire grin.

"I see you two have met?"

You exchanged an awkward glance with Sunghoon, cringing slightly. Well, you did more than just meet.

"My daughter's a sweet girl, I heard you two are in the same college together, why not—"

"Mom!" You hissed, stopping her before she ended up digging a deeper grave for you. No way was she setting you and him up there and then.

"What?" She replied, oblivious. "Anyway, that's besides the point why I came. We'll be leaving already, I have an emergency to attend and it's honestly a headache. I had a lovely time, Sunghoon, extend my further thanks to your mother, will you?"

Sunghoon nodded and gave your mother a hug with a sweet smile, acting like a perfect gentleman and almost sucking up to her as if he wasn't just asking you to beg him a few nights back.

Before you could fully turn around and follow your mother out, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was him.

"I'll see you around?"

Disappointment was evident in his voice, his smile now pulled into a slight frown.

"See you around, Hoonie."

Hoonie. That definitely didn't miss Sunghoon's ears, watching your figure getting further away from him and by then, he knew he needed you.

But first, he needed to get you to not run away from him … again.

“HE’S THAT GUY!”

“What guy?”

Another round of Sunghoon discourse was shared after your fateful encounter with him. Yunjin and Chaewon were gasping the moment his name left your lips, but you were the only confused one there.

“Hockey!”

“Hockey guy?” you were still oblivious, the other two seemingly done with you.

“Hockey player! He’s in the hockey team,”

One blink. Two blinks. Your campus hockey team. You hooked up with a hockey jock? Scratch that, he was probably a hockey frat boy instead. It was common knowledge that the hockey team fucked around often. Despite keeping their ground and being good athletes, they still had a reputation of partying and hooking up.

“What?” You sputtered out, horror in your eyes. “He's on the hockey team? The same one that has Lee Heeseung, Park Jong Seong and Choi Jiung?”

“Yes, Y/N, we only have one hockey team on the campus,”

“Touche,”

“That's another athlete you hooked up with,” Yunjin nudged you teasingly, but Chaewon, on the other hand, was shaking her head in disapproval.

“Don’t encourage her, Jen. Not to be a killjoy, but girl, the hockey team has a bad name to them in terms of relationships,” Chaewon grimaced. “I don’t know much about Sunghoon but the things I’ve heard were not the best,”

“They are much more tame compared to the rest though. He has better decorum,” Yunjin chimed in, but that didn’t reassure you at all.

“Look, Y/N, we’re not stopping you from talking to him if you think he’s alright. But as your friends, we don’t want you heartbroken. Keep yourself alert and keep your heart at bay,”

“You’ve already let him in some other places—” You smacked Yunjin’s shoulder as she let out a cackle before it slowly died down and she continued, “but you know, you shouldn’t let him into your heart until you feel like it’s time,”

Chaewon nodded in agreement. “He’s still an athlete after all, not to mention, a popular star player of the team

“I mean, look at Juyeon,” At the mention of his name, thanks to Yunjin, you only shuddered at the thought of the douchey athlete before Sunghoon, Juyeon, a known footballer all over campus for the wrong reasons.

“God, don't bring Juyeon up, those were dark times,” Desperation and loneliness wasn’t a good combination to look at.

Chaewon patted your shoulders. “It sure was. But hey, maybe Sunghoon could change that stereotype. You have him now, who knows what’s in store for you two,”

“We barely talked. He's going to forget about me in a few days, trust me,”

Yunjin and Chaewon exchanged doubtful glances that went unnoticed by you, especially when you were distracted by a frantic Wonyoung running over to your table. She wasn't just frantic, she seemed like a mess.

“What's up with you?” You pushed the chair back for her to fall into, opening a bottle of water.

“It's my parents again,” she groaned, fixing her hair aggressively. "Setting me up on blind dates and all that,"

"Again?" The three of you exclaimed in unison. It wasn't the first time that this had happened to Wonyoung, but it still surprised you everytime.

"Yeah," she spat, gulping water down. "They set me up with two guys but I've only been talking to one of them, I don't know about the other guy and I don't want to two time these people,"

"Why did they set up two guys this time?"

"I wonder too," she glanced between the three of you, swallowing deeply with a certain guilt in her eyes. "Which is why I wanted to ask—well, it's going to sound crazy—can one of you take my place?"

"What?"

Yunjin, Chaewon and you stared back at Wonyoung as if she had gone utterly insane. Maybe because she has. Her words didn't seem real and it only made the three of you burst out laughing, Wonyoung unimpressed at your unseriousness.

"Guys, I'm serious,"

Chaewon slowly calmed down from her high. "I'm not free for a date now, Wonnie, you know that. I'm busy with projects,"

Yunjin eventually collected herself too, but couldn't resist laughing in between. "I have to train for my next opera stage too,"

It was their turn to stare at you now, the decision falling into your hands.

"Why are you guys looking at me like that?" You said nervously.

"Y/N," Wonyoung batted her eyelashes innocently at you, tugging at your hand.

"You're not serious, right?"

"I am," Wonyoung flashed you one of her sweet, charming smiles. "Come on, it's just one date, free food and possibly good company,"

"What if he's not a good company and a creep? What will I get for emotional compensation? Actually, what do I even get from this whole thing?"

Wonyoung considered it for a while. "A whole year's supply of food either way. Just go on this date and I'll pay for your food the whole year, deal?"

"No way," Yunjin blinked in surprise. Hell, you were surprised too. Being a broke, struggling college student, Wonyoung truly had a way to corner you. There's no way you couldn't say no to this.

"Deal,"

Wonyoung's smile grew wider. "All you need to do is pretend to be me, then try and chase him away,"

"What if he doesn't go away and is charmed?"

"Have fun. Maybe something good will come out of this."

"Doubt it."

IT WAS NOT SURPRISING THAT YOU WERE STARTING TO GET SECOND THOUGHTS ABOUT THE DATE.

Wonyoung had the details and address sent to you, even paying for your dress and dinner. Now all was left for you to actually show up to the fancy restaurant and not blow your cover.

Agreeing to taking your friend's place and pretending to be her was already a big risk. To think you were doing this was surreal, maybe this could be some new experience to laugh about in the future. But at that moment, you were not laughing, far from it.

"Got your keys?" Yunjin yelled from the next room as you gathered your last few items and sanity.

"I did!"

"What about your pepper spray? Wallet? Phone—?"

"I'll be fine!" You shouted back, chuckling slightly at Yunjin's usual demeanour.

"Call us! Text us and give us updates, 'kay?"

"I will, don't worry," you called out your goodbyes before fully exiting your dorm room, mustering the bits of courage left in you all while you walked to your car, getting ready to drive to your misery.

A range of thoughts ran through your head from the carpark to the restaurant. Was he nice? Was he going to be douche? What if he was a serial killer—don’t overthink it—maybe he was a nice guy. You were affirming that it was about to be a chill night, a great date, but something internally did eat you up.

Upon arriving at the address Wonyoung sent you, you had to do a double take to make sure you hadn’t stopped at the wrong place. The restaurant was a fine dining place, chandeliers hung high on the ceiling, classical music playing in the background. It almost looked like it had come fresh out of a movie scene.

The server led you to your assigned table, heaving a breath of relief when you saw the empty seats. Your date wasn’t here yet and you had time to gather yourself. Fantastic!

Would it be too late for the regret to settle in? The menu you had on hand was wide open and shielding your face, having an internal battle with yourself behind it. From a third perspective, you might’ve actually looked insane, but honestly, you could care less. By then, you couldn't tell if you were starting to shiver from nerves or from the backless dress Yunjin picked. You knew it would make you cold eventually.

The rambles in your mind had distracted you completely from the noises of someone moving about before you, still unaware until you heard a cough. “Hello?”

Wait a minute. That voice.

“Hi?” you responded meekly, testing out the waters.

“Uh—can you—the menu—” he laughed awkwardly, sounding helpless. Poor guy.

The more he talked, the more your familiarity increased. It then clicked. That voice … it belonged to your one night stand, Sunghoon. The same guy your mother was pushing to be your future partner, also the one who spent the night with you. He was here, flesh and bones, on a date that was supposed to be with your best friend in the first place.

“Hey, I just want to get this done, I know our parents set this up and you probably give zero fucks about me but the dinner’s paid, so can’t we just try enjoying tonight—”

The menu in your hands was lowered, revealing your face and meeting his brown irises in an instant. You could tell the changes in his expressions as he gradually registered everything. Shock turned into confusion before it melted into amusement. He was amused?

“I don’t take it that you’re Wonyoung, right?” Sunghoon blinked, a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

You, on the other hand, was more frazzled compared to him. Panicking and lowkey not knowing what you should do. “I could leave if you want?”

“God no, stay. Stay with me,” he assured, his hands gesturing a little too wildly. "I don't mind,"

"Really?" You swallowed, quite unconvinced. "This is so stupid. Wonyoung convinced me to do this since she's busy, I hope you're not disappointed," you winced, cringing slightly at yourself.

"I'm far from disappointed, actually. I didn't want to be here initially, my parents set it up without my knowledge—" a sour look on his face towards the mention of his parents' actions, "---but now that I know it's you, I feel a lot better,"

Something about the softness of his gaze and the sincerity of his words made you become increasingly interested. Maybe him and this whole date wouldn't be as bad as you thought.

"You're Y/N, right?" He said with uncertainty, eyebrows raised in expectation.

You tilted your head, confused. You never give him your name, weird, how did he even know? Sunghoon seemed to sense that you were freaked out, because you really were taken aback, and he immediately panicked. “I–that probably rubbed off wrongly since you didn’t tell me your name after and I couldn’t remember it that night either, but you left your initials by my bedside, remember?”

He saw you nodding slowly, taking it as a clear sign to continue on. “Sounds insane but after that night, I actually asked around the campus with only your initials, trying to find you and figure out who you were. I know this sounds weird and totally invasive—”

Oh, he totally didn’t forget you in those few days like you’ve said before. It was the opposite. He went around trying to find you just with your initials? You were not ready to be down bad.

“No, it’s fine, really,” your eyebrows flew further up your forehead. You should be weirded out, but you weren’t. Actions spoke louder than words, and this was a prime example of it. You never had a man pursue you this intensely, even making an effort to try searching for your name alone. “It’s cute,”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I don’t think a man I’ve ever dated even did something like this for me before,” you giggled a little, noticing the flustered flush on his face, despite trying to remain a tough front. “How did you succeed in the end anyway?”

“Yunjin, was it? Your friend?”

You smiled slightly and resisted rolling your eyes at the mention of your best friend’s name. Of course it would be her that told him your name. “Right, that’s her,”

“She saw me practising one day in the arena and somehow recognised me, then she called me ‘white hair boy’ and asked if I was looking for you,” Sunghoon explained, earning a small laugh from you when you listened closely to him. “I swear I didn’t know it was going to be you today though, or that day at my house. I got your number from Yunjin and wanted to text you, but I suppose there were turn of events,”

“Funny how life works, huh?”

“Honestly, I’m glad it was you.”

The dinner eventually started and over the course of dishes, you and Sunghoon shared things about yourselves to each other, just trying to know more about one another and you swore you only fell deeper into the hole. He was passionate when it came to music, hockey, skating and his engineering course. Man, he was absolutely a charm that you couldn’t escape.

The accidental brushes throughout didn’t go unnoticed by you either. Whether it was him passing the napkins to you or just resting your hands too close to each other, you could feel his feather-like brush grazing against your skin. At times, his legs would make contact with yours, and you were aware that he was also aware.

The night was filled with harmless touches and knowing glances at each other. Once you were done dining, he offered to take you home and walk you. How could you say no to that?

"Have you ever gone to one of those hockey games on campus?" He suddenly asked on the way back to your place.

You shook your head. "Nope,"

"Would you like to come to the next game?" Sunghoon looked over at you for a moment before returning his gaze back to the road.

"I'd love to," you answered without thinking. You were already weak for him, and there's no way out. "Will you be playing?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, a teasing smile etched on his face that you could make out in the dim glow.

He parked his car by the road, walking you to your apartment with you. The sounds of your combined footsteps filled the air, the occasional light brushes against shoulders kept you buzzing internally.

"I had a great time tonight," you said out of the blue, earning his attention. "You know, I thought I'll regret pretending to be Wonyoung and expected a scary douchey guy to be my date, but I'm really happy to see that it was you,"

"I thought you'd run away," he laughed, referencing the time you hid from him and most likely the night after where you left in the middle of the night.

"That was the last time," you nudged him, and couldn't resist a smile either. "I swear I won't run from you again,"

"Really?"

"Really," you affirmed, casting him a glance.

Upon arriving at your doorstep, you turned to Sunghoon. "Thank you for tonight,"

“Thank you too, I enjoyed myself with you,” Sunghoon had his hands slipped in his pockets, his dyed hair complimenting his features, you couldn't take your eyes completely off him, resisting the urge to start giggling.

“Me too,” your eyes never left his, and neither did his. “Goodnight, Hoonie,”

Hoonie. There it was again, catching Sunghoon by surprise, a good kind of surprise.

He smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“NEVER WILL I HAVE PREDICTED Y/N HOOKING UP WITH A HOCKEY PLAYER AND GOING TO ONE OF HIS GAMES AFTER,”

You brought Yunjin and Wonyoung along for the game, which you might’ve slowly regretted once you got to the arena. After telling them about the date, they were convinced you and Sunghoon were fated. Wonyoung even called herself ‘cupid’ and Yunjin credited herself for telling him your name. All you did was nod at their words, unable to deny that he had been in your mind.

“It is destiny,” Wonyoung cooed.

“Sure sure,” you waved them off dismissively, setting your eyes on the ice while the other two exchanged brief looks.

It was a while before the players of both teams filed out onto the ice, the arena bursting in cheers of support and you found yourself absentmindedly searching for Sunghoon.

You saw him looking around as well. His eyes were squinted when he glanced up onto the stands, then it stopped when his gaze landed on you. You were the one he was finding for in the midst of the crowd.

Sunghoon waved almost too enthusiastically with the energy of a puppy, a toothy grin stretched wide and face lighting up, eyes shining. Gosh, he was so cute, how could you resist him? Spoiler alert, you couldn't.

You didn't even realise you were reciprocating his big smile, waving back with equal energy and kicking your feet slightly. Whereas Wonyoung and Yunjin sat beside you, staring at the sight before them and knew what was up. You were hooked. But were they going to tell you that? No. You were going to work through this denial yourself unfortunately.

"What's with those looks?" You turned to them after Sunghoon skated away to his position. They shrugged.

"Well, someone seems interested," Yunjin raised her eyebrows.

"She's going to say 'no'," Wonyoung whispered over to Yunjin just in time for you to utter the exact word.

"No," you slipped out before shutting your mouth, rolling your eyes at the realisation. "We'll see,"

"She said 'we'll see', we're slowly moving to the light and out of denial,"

You nudged Yunjin, laughing softly. "Maybe,"

The match started off quite intensely, neither of the two teams wanted to back down or give way, instead only attacking harder. A few goals were scored before the third period arrived and the arena was alive with thrill.

Sunghoon was practically flying around, guiding the puck along and assisting his teammates, even achieving some assists himself. When the third period started, the teams only got fiercer, all eyes were on them.

That's when Jay skated past the oppositions and passed the puck to Sunghoon's end of his hockey stick, having the star player take control of the play now. Everyone was practically on their feet, the time ticking as Sunghoon worked his way through the defenders.

One hit of the stick and a swerve of his body, the puck landed into the net of the goalpost. Fans of the home team erupted in cheers, you three included, basking in the victory. Sunghoon's name showed up on the jumbotron, a loud blast of his name filled the arena and music played.

All while that was happening, Sunghoon searched for your figure again, making sure you were still there even when his teammates literally swarmed him. He never took his eyes off of you, and you knew that. You definitely didn't miss his wandering gaze throughout the game.

The game eventually came to an end. People were soon leaving the stands and you were ready to follow, but your best friends stopped you with a certain look on their faces.

"Are you not going to find him?" Yunjin had her arms crossed.

"After all that?" Hands on hips, Wonyoung stared accusatory.

"I am," you assured, smiling at their demeanour. "He did text me beforehand saying how he wanted to meet me after the game,"

"You guys text?" Yunjin wiggled her eyebrows in interest.

"You're acting like we're living in the eighteen hundreds,"

"You know exactly what I mean,"

Wonyoung wrapped her arms around your shoulder. "We'll wait for you outside, call us when you're done with lover boy,"

"He is so not lover boy—"

"And you're so totally going to take that back one day,"

Yunjin's words did linger with you even after leaving them momentarily to find Sunghoon. The secret promise you had with yourself about not dating athletes or jocks was being threatened now, and you didn't like the thought of that. It wasn't your fault for being traumatised by them.

Somehow, something in you was keen to give Sunghoon a chance, and he was only winning your heart so far.

"Y/N!"

You didn't realise how caught up you were with your thoughts until you heard footsteps and your name being called out. Sunghoon was jogging towards you, still in his hockey gear, silvery white hair glistening with sweat. You're being totally normal about this. Not.

"Hey!" You accepted his awkward side hug, him not wanting to get his sweat on you and you not knowing how to dodge his sweat. In the end, you two made it work somehow.

"You came," Sunghoon said breathlessly, as if he couldn't believe it, shining eyes staring back at you.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Sunghoon shook his head lightly, waving his hand dismissively. "Nah, it's just sometimes people don't really care about me playing hockey when I invited them to come watch, so I assumed—yeah—and it sucks honestly,"

You tilted your head in confusion, frowning. "But hockey's practically your rock! Why would they not support you for this?"

Sunghoon shrugged with a sad smile. "Guess some people don't care,"

"They don't care enough,"

"But you do,"

Something about the way he looked at you during then had your heart beating wildly. His gaze ever so gentle and caring, his attention on you as if you were the only person that mattered. Everything in his eyes conveys its message wordlessly.

"Of course I do," your words came out in a whisper, the tension between you and him increasing till the point where you felt suffocated.

"The playoffs are soon, I'd really love to see your face in the crowd," Sunghoon fidgeted with the ends of his sleeve, shyly avoiding your stare.

"And I would totally love to see you play. Have I told you how good you were just now?"

Sunghoon laughed, looking highly amused. "Really? Stop, I'm about to blush,"

Noticing Sunghoon's playful side did warm your heart. You wondered how he was the more you got to know him. What was he like? What does he like and hate? He continued to keep you curious and wanting to know more.

"I'm serious. You were really good,"

You could tell he was pleased, smiling a little too hard. "Thank you. It means a lot coming from you,"

"Sunghoon!"

You two turned around at the sound of his name, a tall lanky boy in the same hockey gear jogged towards where you were standing. If your memory didn't fail you, that person would be Heeseung, the captain of the team.

"Hey, the team's waiting, we have to discuss something," Heeseung nodded to a few guys waiting by the door, all of whom were staring in interest. It was then when Heeseung noticed your presence, acknowledging you with an awkward smile. "Sorry for taking him away,"

"It's fine," you reassured him. "I'll go first. I really enjoyed the game, text me, okay? See you, Hoonie!"

Everything happened too fast for Sunghoon to process entirely. By the time he waved and called out a 'bye', you were already a distance away. Yet, you made sure to turn around and wave goodbye to him one last time before disappearing past a corner. He was whipped.

"'Hoonie', huh?" Heeseung threw an arm around him, thoroughly humoured.

"Oh, shut it,"

"Hoonie!" The guys waiting called out teasingly, further agitating their vice captain who grumpily stalked past them.

If there's one thing Sunghoon hated, it was people calling him 'Hoonie', but when it came to you, he could make an exception, and he certainly wouldn't mind hearing you say it a million times.

"ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?"

Wonyoung and Yunjin were party goers. You? Not so much.

Upon hearing the infamous campus jocks were hosting a party at their frat house, almost everyone got to their feet at once, your friends included. You weren't exactly complaining either, the frat house was huge, like ginormous. But a part of you still remained cautious.

"I mean, yeah?" Yunjin had her arm looped around yours, Wonyoung around her other arm, the three of you making your way to the house.

"Why? What's up?" Wonyoung asked, sounding concerned.

You waved it off, shaking your head. "It's nothing. Maybe I'm overthinking but there's just a feeling poking at me,"

"Is it the 'ex tingle'?"

"I hope not,"

The ex tingle was something you and your best friends discovered, it was something stupid yet strangely accurate. Honestly, it might sound ridiculous, but to you three, it was far from ridiculous. Once, you got a weird unexplainable gut feeling at a party and guess what? Your ex showed up. The other time, Yunjin had the same feeling and her ex rounded the corner, followed by Wonyoung bumping into her ex at a cafe.

From then on, it would continue happening here and there. Once would be a coincidence, but considering it was more than once, you figured it was a connection telepathically.

"It's a jock party. As much as I don't want to pray for your downfall accidentally, one of them might be there," Wonyoung frowned, speaking the cold hard truth. Truthfully, you were numb to the sight of your ex, having to see them once in a while at a random party and them being somewhat well known, it was hard to avoid them.

“We'll be your ‘ex tingle’ for the night, Y/N,” Yunjin smiled comfortingly at you, cracking some random jokes and telling you two about the craziest stories on the way there, certainly getting your mind off everything. You were ready to take on the night. Maybe not until the point where you find yourself in someone’s bed.

The whole picture of drunk college students and randos making out by the pool already had you questioning your decisions when you got there. From your observations, the hockey players and footballers were here, joined with some other jocks too. Before you could form a conscious thought, Yunjin pulled you towards the kitchen where they had a makeshift bar, poured you a glass of some strong concoction she probably made.

With one last gulp and a few words of affirmation to update one another, you parted ways with them and ventured into the deeper parts of the house alone, hoping you wouldn't end up regretting that decision. The music reverberated throughout the house, some were with their friends but many had partners accompanying, which totally did not make you feel slightly out of place.

The corridors were littered with people and you had to squeeze your way through. Among the many heads blocking your view, your eyes caught a particular bright one, white shining hair. Just when you thought you were getting excited to see a familiar face, the feeling was short-lived after you saw a girl by his side. You knew you shouldn't be disappointed. Consciously speaking you tried convincing yourself it was nothing, but when it came to your heart, it feels like you were punched in the guts.

They were close to each other, whispering and laughing. Then it occurred to you, maybe you were just like her. Another girl he gets and leaves, moving on without any committed feelings. It was probably a bad idea getting involved with another athlete, wasn't it?

Having a midlife crisis while being half drunk wasn't the best idea for the night. The relationship trauma you hadn’t fully healed from simply haunted you, but what you didn’t expect next was the literal physical embodiment of said trauma reappearing before you. The jock ex who happened to break your heart into pieces was leaning against a doorframe, making out with some girl.

That’s a double killer for the night. Where was Yunjin’s ‘ex tingle’ anyway?

Maybe choosing to go home and blast some Taylor Swift or Olivia Rodrigo songs would be a better healing option. But instead, you decided to choose a different type of peace by managing your way through the bodies of college students, towards a balcony you didn't even realise until then.

Luck was fortunately on your side. The balcony was empty and unoccupied. There were small chairs for you to sit and spend the night doing nothing, plus the weather was perfect enough to sit out. That was it, you were going to have your alone time and sober up, hopefully not letting the idea of jumping down tempt you.

Staring into space and sitting uncomfortably on one of the small chairs has somehow caught someone's attention. You heard the glass door to the balcony open behind you, but you didn't really react until a second later, looking up just to see the person you were hoping to see. Sunghoon.

"Why're you all alone out here?" He carefully sat on the unoccupied seat next to you, testing the waters whether he could scoot closer, and you let him. He inched closer without you realising, shoulders pressed against each other now.

"Just wanted to get out of there, it's stuffy," you shrugged, scrunching your nose a little. “Plus, I saw my ex too, what an eyesore,”

“Screw him,”

“Wow,” you stared at him, a hand on your chest, feigning shock. “You’re taking my side despite not knowing my ex,”

“Well, I believe you would do no wrong, it’s definitely him that’s the problem,”

“You’re not wrong, but you also have too much trust in me, Park,”

“Maybe, but that’s because I like you,”

You froze. Literally. Eyes wide and mouth agape. You swore you felt everything around you stop as well. Did he just—? There’s no way he said that, right?

There was a beat of silence before Sunghoon burst out laughing softly at your reaction, the cheesiest grin on his face. “What’s with that look?”

“I’m shocked,”

“That I like you?”

“Yes, but also the fact that you’ve said it so confidently,”

“Well, I’m confident in stating facts,” he shrugged nonchalantly, leaning in closer. “Do you like me?”

“Maybe,” you dragged out your syllables, getting flustered under the intensity of his gaze. Truthfully, you would be screaming ‘yes’ at once. But you know better, especially when Wonyoung’s first rule of flirting was to play hard to get, yet, there’s no promise in how long you’d last. “Wait, but aren’t you here with someone tonight?”

“Me?” he pointed at himself, seemingly confused. “I came here with Heeseung, that's all,” he said, but then, a certain realisation hit him and his expression morphed, a playful smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Did you perhaps see me with someone?” Was he some kind of mindreader?

“What—” you sputtered, getting busted and instantly flustered.

“I saw you in the corridor just now before you rushed away, I didn’t think you saw me either,” he explained, searching for your escaping gaze as you were increasingly getting embarrassed. “That was Heeseung’s girlfriend, nothing more,”

“Oh,” Were you glad? Yes. But were you also embarrassed? Yes

“Just wanted to make it clear. Plus, I have nothing to hide from you, Y/N. I know you probably heard … things about the hockey team, and I can’t completely defend some of my teammates' behaviour, but you know, not all of us are like that,” he shrugged, gaze turning softer the moment it met yours. “I don’t just start something I don’t want. I make it clear if I want someone,”

His words were sincere, eyes never leaving yours as he said them. You both knew what you wanted there and then: each other.

“I want your trust, even if it means that I have to gain it, I will,” he continued, close to you till the point where you could feel heat radiating off him.

“I trust you, Hoonie, I do,” you whispered, and maybe it was the fact that you both were intoxicated, but shame was nonexistent. Sunghoon was speaking his mind, and you were letting your thoughts be known as well. “I do feel the same as you, I want you,”

You could tell your words had their effects on Sunghoon. His hands were balled up in a fist, trying to keep his composure with all his might, jaw clenched and breathing shallow. “As crude as I sound right now, I would love to fuck you again, but let me bring you out on a date first, please,”

You rolled your eyes at his shamelessness, showing the effects of the alcohol in his bloodstream. Even so, you couldn’t really deny his offer either, but were you going to say that? Nope. “You’re such a gentleman, Hoonie,” you snickered, nudging him lightly. “I'd love to go on a date with you,”

"You would?"

You nodded. "I wanna try this out,"

"Me too," he brushed the back of his hand against your cheek softly, gentle eyes staring back at you. "I won't let you down, pretty girl."

“DO YOU THINK WE’RE MOVING TOO FAST?”

“You literally fucked before you even fully knew each others’ name. Trust me, I don't think so,”

You rolled your eyes at Yunjin's words, though it was mostly true. It was the weekend and Sunghoon stuck to his words like the gentleman he was, sending you a vague message: 'wear something comfortable'. Whatever that meant.

Yunjin was there the whole time trying to give you some bit of mental support as you got ready. All until she had to let you go when it was time to meet up with Sunghoon.

He was waiting for you a few floors down your dorm room, and you unknowingly sped up your steps to get to him quicker. The moment you laid your eyes on his figure, you practically bounded towards him.

"Hoonie!"

Sunghoon instantly glanced up, recognizing your voice at once. The corners of his lips turned upwards, gaze softening and arms reaching out for you. "Hey,"

"Hi," you greeted back, accepting his hand and letting his fingers intertwined with yours.

"You look great," he complimented, even though you were in a simple outfit as per his request. It was the little things that got you.

"Thank you," you took the chance to scan his attire, one that was matching the same simplicity as yours. A white polo paired with dark blue jeans, rocking a minimalistic aesthetic. In conclusion, you want him … badly.

"What do you have in mind?" You asked as he guided you to the location of his car, even making the effort of opening the door for you.

"Grab dinner and then bring you to my favourite place," he smiled simply.

"Your favourite place?" You wondered aloud, your curiosity making him smile wider.

"You'll see,"

Sunghoon brought you to a nice restaurant, one where he secretly made a whole reservation and booked a private area all without your knowledge. It was almost like that night where you had the unofficial date with him, except this time, things seemed different. In the short span of time, something between you and him brewed, and it was obviously lingering in the air.

The dinner was filled with laughter and getting to know a new side of Sunghoon. The man who seemed cold and mighty at first glance, star player of the hockey team, was actually just a softie at heart. He shared about his pet dog back at home, favourite movies and songs, random facts about himself that surprised you too much.

He was also a jokester that popped too many puns and dad jokes, but surprisingly, you couldn't get tired by it. Even when you talked and shared things about yourself, Sunghoon was all ears and maintained eye contact throughout, and you couldn't lie, at one point, you felt yourself under his gaze.

That dinner lasted for almost two hours, but ultimately felt too short. Now it was finally time for the thing you've waited the whole night for: Sunghoon's mysterious favourite place.

All while Sunghoon drove, you got the chance to play your favourite songs on the radio, lip syncing to them, unaware of the dreamy look Sunghoon casted over at you once in a while, the cheesiest grin on his face.

Sunghoon's car soon came to a stop, then he led you out and towards the place you anticipated. Your curiosity and interest only increased as you neared, until Sunghoon pushed open the door and switched the lights on, your mouth opened wide in shock.

You were in a skating rink, an empty one. How did Sunghoon manage to pull this one out? You had no idea.

"You didn't steal the keys or break in, right?"

Sunghoon rolled his eyes at your remarks, a look of amusement on his face staring back at you. "Surprisingly, no. I used to work here, and I got my friend who still works here to sneak the keys to me," he dangled the keys in his hand. "So, this is going to be a tiny secret between me, my friend and you, deal?"

You mimicked zipping your lips shut, excitement evident in your beaming features. "Deal,"

He flashed a smile at your gesture, not just any smile, but the sweetest one. The same one that reached his eyes, presenting you crescent moon-like shapes, gaze filled with endearment. Maybe because he did find you endearing.

"Come on, I promise I won't let you fall," he reached for your hand, pulling you close and you followed him wordlessly, letting him take the lead once more.

He picked out the skates of your size, knowing the place better, and soon came running back to your waiting figure on the bench. You were about to take them from him, but before you could, he was already on his knees.

"I'll help you," he said softly, and the moment you saw the genuinity in his eyes, you couldn't say 'no'.

"You worked here before? What did you do here?" You struck up a conversation as he helped the skates onto your feet, tying them up one after the other.

"Summer job. You know I can never leave the rink," he snickered under his breath. "Took up the job to coach the youths and beginners for hockey. It was humbling to say the least,"

"How so?" It was no lie you couldn't get your eyes off of the top of his head. His silver locks shined even brighter under the lights, the soft sheen of it enticed you to touch it. But that wasn't it, you just wished he could look up at that moment.

"Kids are a difficult bunch to deal with. They're either angels or devils, no in between,"

"Word. I did babysitting before and it was something I never want to do ever again," you recalled back to your own summer job during your teen years. 'Horrible' was all you could use to summarise it. "I would've loved seeing a hockey coach you though,"

Look up. Look up. Look up!

"Really?" With a final pull to the laces, he glanced up, brown irises locked with yours. He was close, and gosh, you were holding back every fibre of your body to not jump into his hold.

"It would've been cute," technically, you meant him. The sight of Sunghoon with kids was something you wished to witness.

He laughed, shaking his head lightly. "You amuse me, L/N,"

You shrugged. "What can I say? I have that charm. Now, are you going to take me skating or what?"

Sunghoon laughed at your bluntness, took your hand and walked towards the rink. There was no lie that you were actually scared to get onto the ice, being heavily inexperienced and having bad balance, that was a bad combo to have. You could trust Sunghoon … right?

"You're scared," his hold on you tightened the moment you stepped onto the ice, legs wobbly and hands grabbing frantically at him. "I got you,"

"I don't think I've got this in me,"

"You're giving up already?"

"Not giving up, just … doubtful,"

"We're changing that mindset today," he sounded too determined that it had you slightly taken aback. Your hold on him remained tight as he led you further into the middle, telling you what you should and shouldn’t do.

You couldn’t stop staring at him, even when he was running through the basics with you, all you could focus on was him. The passion in his voice was hard to miss, his expressions scrunched up in concentration as he looked at you taking baby steps. Soon, you were able to skate a distance away from him on your own, it was a miracle that you couldn’t believe yourself.

“You’re getting a hang at this. Didn’t know you were such a quick learner,” he whistled as he skated towards you, a smile gracing his face.

“Had a good teacher, that’s all,” you manoeuvred awkwardly until you were in front of him, catching onto his arm instinctively.

His hands reached out for you as well, his touch light and gentle, matching the softness in his gaze that stared back at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or what his eyes were expressing, but all you knew was the air between you and him carried an unspeakable tension that you were both aware of. Something in you wished for him to pull you in closer, and maybe … just maybe, he heard your thoughts.

You let out a gasp when you felt his hold on you tightened and he tugged you in after, narrowly losing your balance but managed to keep yourself steady when your hands landed on his shoulder. Eyes wide, mind frazzled as you stared up at him, meeting his playful gaze and cheeky smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him, though your expressions couldn’t hide your true feelings. “What was that for?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanted you close,”

He can’t just say that and expect you to not go crazy.

Two can play at that game.

“You could’ve just said that,” your hold on his shoulder travelled slowly down to his arms until his hand which you took and placed on your waist, moving slightly closer to him, all while you maintained an unbothered front as he slowly crumbled.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grunted out, eyes flickering, gaze lingering on your lips occasionally.

You could only laugh quietly, removing yourself from him and skating away, his touch on your skin still burning. He skated alongside you, twisting and turning around, showing you his hidden skills until it became a chasing game out of the blue. You were skating after him, your movements still lacklustre, but what you didn’t notice was Sunghoon already stopping in front of you, yet you couldn’t find the right momentum to slow down. Oh no.

Inevitably, you crashed into his body right at that moment when he turned around, his arms wrapping around your waist without thinking. Off you two went falling onto the ice where Sunghoon landed on his back with a small thud while you fell on top of him.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, are you okay?” your words came out rushed, trying to push yourself up but the slippery ice only made you more clumsy. “Are you injured? Would this affect your performance when you play? You’ve got a game soon—”

“Sweetheart,” Sunghoon sighed, his head slightly raised. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he casted you a reassuring smile. “So does this mean you’ve fallen for me?”

He was too unserious.

“Shut up. I know your back's hurting.”

“IT'S GETTING SERIOUS,”

“It's so definitely is,”

Another night, another party with the girls. It wasn't surprising in any way, moreover, it would be more surprising if they didn't go out partying.

You told them about the date, spilling what was needed to be split as per usual. But somehow, the discussion managed to last for over a few days, them still gushing and cheering you two on, already creating delusional scenarios.

"We're taking it slow, okay?"

It was indeed baby steps. A few dates and constant texting, you felt the rush and butterflies that you haven't experienced in a long while.

"Well faster up, this ship needs to sail," Wonyoung said in frustration, being in the frontline of the Y/N and Sunghoon ship.

"It will," Yunjin whispered affirmatively to Wonyoung, while you just brushed it off with a quick roll of the eyes. "He's here tonight too," she nudged you, trying to get a reaction from you, to which you just shrugged casually, but realistically, you were feeling the opposite internally.

“I’m getting an ex tingle,” Wonyoung said, her eyes trained on somebody from a distance away.

“Who?” you tried following her gaze, searching for the person in the crowd.

“Sunghoon's ex,” Wonyoung said with a certain distaste in her tone. “Gosh, I remember her. We used to be classmates back then, and she was the biggest fake I’ve ever met. We had a lecture together once when she was still dating him and you couldn’t believe the amount of times she was talking about him and saying how she’s dating a star player, it was insufferable,”

You and Yunjin exchanged a look that practically screamed ‘yikes’ before Wonyoung continued. “She’s Olivia Lee, by the way, bad reputation to her name. I wonder why they even dated in the first place, from what I heard, the relationship only lasted a month,”

“You’re kidding,”

“I wish I was,”

“No way my ex is here too, I see him over there,” Yunjin groaned, momentarily switching the subject, earning both you and Wonyoung’s attention and diverted them to her ex. You forgot about Sunghoon’s ex and him in general as you and your friends shared crazy stories over a lousy cup of beer.

The night went on without seeing a single sight of Sunghoon, but that didn’t bother you at all. A couple cups of beer and some shots had you tipsy enough to stay in one corner while your friends went off dancing with guys from the frat. There you were, eyes threatening to shut and energy on low, you could really use a mattress right there and then.

A stream of shouts and whoops welcomed whoever that was walking through the front door, which resulted in successfully capturing your attention and waking you up temporarily. ‘You’re late’ was complained by the host to the guys that were surrounded by too many people for you to distinguish. It was all too noisy and messy in the room, so you decided to take a quick run to the kitchen for a refill.

The last you expected when coming out from the kitchen with your cup full was a white haired hockey player standing across the room, his eyes wandering around and searching through the crowd, until it landed on you. The one he was looking for, the one he could recognise even in a room full of people.

His face lit up, trying to make his way to you and having to mutter awkward ‘excuse me’s, never breaking eye contact throughout his bee-line towards you. The moment he successfully got to you, he didn’t even say a word before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hello,” you whispered in his ear as he rocked the both of you side to side.

“Hey, I’ve missed you—” Okay, that had your heart exploding. “I’m sorry for not being able to hang out much, I’ve been busy with practices. Coach has been on our asses,” he sighed when he slowly pulled away, smiling sadly.

“I get it, it’s fine,” you patted his shoulder in assurance. “We still text anyway, but hey, you didn’t tell me you’d be coming tonight,”

“I wasn’t going to, Heeseung and Jay dragged me here,” he nodded to the direction where both his best friends were, currently chugging down alcohol as if they were dying of thirst. “Which was a bad idea,” he murmured, and you knew what he was talking about.

“Forget about them,” you poked at his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Just enjoy the night, what could possibly go wrong?”

Apparently, everything.

Sunghoon got roped away soon after by his best friends and you were pulled away by your own as well. It was all chill until you saw Sunghoon in a corner, his back facing you and the flailing of his hands were enough to tell that he was agitated. Your eyes averted to the right, and there she was, his ex.

A sinking feeling grew in your stomach. The sight before you wasn’t even a good sign between them, there was nothing to worry about, but you just couldn’t help worrying for Sunghoon. Maybe because you were too focused on them, and the universe wanted you to worry for yourself instead, because just then, someone bumped into you, causing you to spill your drink.

“Hey! What the hell?” you hissed, flicking away the substance on your hand before turning to look at who the person was. Oh, he wasn’t just any person. It was Juyeon, aka, Mr Ex-Fuckbuddy from the football team.

“Bro—Y/N?” realisation dawned in both of your eyes, then it turned to equal annoyance. Last you remembered, things didn’t exactly go well at the end.

“Hey…” you faltered, not knowing whether to make the dash or to stay.

“Haven’t seen you in awhile, how have you been?”

Was he seriously pulling the ‘how are you’ bullshit question?

“I’m doing amazing, sparkling and dazzling,”

Juyeon’s eyebrows were scrunched in a bunch, a look of doubt painted on his expressions. “Really? I didn’t think anyone else besides me would fuck better,”

You sharply inhaled. He was a douche, you knew that, but to have the audacity to be a cocky, annoying one was surely ticking you off.

You scoffed. “Oh trust me, my last fuck was great, out of the world even,”

“I doubt that, who was it?”

“Why would I tell you? Why are you acting like those nosy asses out there, gosh,”

He suddenly got a hold of your wrist, tugging you roughly and hurting you with his tight grip. “I know we’re done, but we could always call me up,”

“What? Let go of me!” you tried pulling your hand, but his grip was strong, and you were so close to yelling out, having a crisis internally and regretting letting your friends wander off.

“She said let go, asshole,” unexpectedly, Sunghoon’s gruff voice travelled into your ears. Before you knew it, he was standing right behind you, hand grabbing on Juyeon’s, an unrecognisable look on his face, one that was enough to have Juyeon to let go.

“I’m guessing you’re the one she’s fucking,”

“What?” both you and Sunghoon exclaimed in disbelief. To be fair, he wasn’t completely wrong though.

“Don’t play dumb, jackass. How good are you—”

You couldn’t stand it anymore, interjecting him. “Can you shut up? This has nothing to do with you. We weren’t even together,”

“I sure can fuck better than him—”

What shocked you the most that night after a series of interesting events happened to be when Sunghoon landed a punch on Juyeon’s face. A gasp escaped you and so did everyone around. The people in the room slowed down what they were doing and had their attention on the two instead. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t about to be those typical cliches or Wattpad scenes where you stopped them both. But were you going to let them beat each other up? Hell no.

It took a moment before Juyeon composed himself and threw a punch back at Sunghoon, who only recovered quickly and reciprocated the punch. This wasn’t going to end well. Unfortunately, you didn’t know his friends enough to have their numbers, and all you could do was escape the crowd to locate them.

Finding them didn’t take long when they themselves had heard the commotion. You swore a headache was expecting you since you weren’t even fully sober enough for all this and the weight of everything around you was overwhelming. The feeling of watching both Heeseung and Jay pull Sunghoon out was complicated. You rushed over to check up on him, and everything eventually passed in a blur until you soon found yourself in his car.

It was inevitably silent and stuffy in the car. What happened before this felt like a haze. Sunghoon didn’t even bother cleaning up and left straight away, leaving everyone dumbfounded, including you. Yet, you couldn’t bear to let him leave like that, not when he was hurt. So, you did what you needed to do and followed him.

He knew you were behind him, he just didn’t dare to look you in the eyes after the stunt he pulled. When you both reached his car, he turned around, mustering his calmest expression.

“Let’s go,” he said softly and quietly before reaching over to the car door to open it for you.

Now here you were, not knowing what to say. You couldn’t tell the thoughts going through his brain at that moment. How was he feeling? Was that wound on his lips hurting?

“Hoonie, you know Juyeon is a douche, right? He acts like that to get on your nerves and it didn’t help that he was drunk too. Don’t let him get to you,”

A sigh left Sunghoon’s lips, his grip on the steering wheel absentmindedly tightened. “I know, I just couldn’t believe it. The way he was speaking to you, how he acted and treated you—it made me mad, and the thing is, I don’t know why I’m feeling like this,”

“Like what?”

He seemed as if he wanted to say something he had been holding in for a long time, mouth agape and was ready to spill, but alas, he didn’t have the guts to do so, to tell you how he felt, his true feelings. He shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. “It’s nothing, I've probably had a long night,” he mumbled, which you found odd, but you figured it wasn’t the right time to press on anyway.

“Plus, I can’t believe you’d let an asshole like that fuck you,” he grumbled with a sour look on his face, frowning deeply and eyebrows etched together.

You let out a laugh, finding his reaction too amusing. “You’re jealous?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, smiling a little.

“Those were desperate times, okay?” you said dismissively, even though most parts of it were true. “He doesn’t fuck better than you though, that’s for sure,” you mumbled under your breath, hoping he didn’t catch what you’ve just said, but judging from the cheshire grin, you figured he did.

Despite the sneaky remark from you, he was surprisingly silent, which gave you an opening opportunity to strike. There was another thing you were curious about and itching to know, the influence of alcohol simply not stopping you from blabbering anyway. “I saw you with your ex just now,”

At first, Sunghoon looked surprised that you'd brought it up, then he let out a barely audible sigh, lips flattened into a thin line as he ran a hand through his hair. "Just like you, I was bombarded by a drunk ex. I don't know what her problem was but she was having some one sided beef there. We didn't really end on good terms but I've moved on,"

He clicked his tongue, pausing for a moment. "Desperate times, you know?" He playfully quoted you, a knowing smile dawned on his face.

"And we're both moving past it,"

Sunghoon merely nodded, the smile remained on his lips. Slowly but surely, the tension diffused too, and you told Sunghoon some crazy party stories as a way to entertain yourself throughout the ride back to the dorm.

Walking back, Sunghoon had an arm around your waist, keeping you balanced as you tried to not stumble in your steps. “My dorm’s a little far from here, I think it’s at the other end? I don’t want to inconvenient you further so maybe I can go back myself—”

“Y/N, I’m not letting you walk to your dorm in the dead of the night when you’re not fully sober,” Sunghoon persisted, his hold tightening. “Just stay over at mine. I don’t think the guys will be back anyway, they’re probably going to pass out over there,”

“Really?”

“Really,”

Sunghoon’s dorm room was exactly how you'd remembered it from that night. Slightly messy but still clean enough for it to not be a biohazard. The doors to their rooms had their names on it with tiny doodles as a decoration. Hockey sticks and gears littered the area, a whiteboard in the middle of the room with drawn out tactics that you found interesting.

“Nice … whiteboard you have over there,” you nodded at the big object overtaking their living room area, chuckling slightly.

“Easily the best Friday night game to have,” he smiled, helping you with your purse and giving you his hand when you took your shoes off. “I’ll get you some clothes to change into, you can sleep in my bed,”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep in the other room,”

You opened your mouth to refute, but nothing came out. Instead, you turned your attention to something else. “Hey—uh—your wounds, they’re not cleaned, aren’t they?”

Sunghoon halted in his steps, turning around smoothly to reveal his busted lips and a small bruise forming around his eye. He shook his head. You gestured for him to come closer, sighing a little.

“I suppose you do have a safety kit around here, don’t you?”

“Bathroom,”

It didn’t take you long enough to rummage through the cupboard in his bathroom to find the red safety kit, taking it along with you out to the room where he sat on his bed waiting.

“I’m a little embarrassed, you know?” he said all of a sudden, with you applying the gel on his lips and him having to resist the pain, wincing once in a while.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen worse,”

“Me getting busted up in games is normal, but getting beaten up by some lousy footballer is a new low I never expected,”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head slightly. Truth be told, you were ignoring how close you were to him at that moment. He had his legs spread open, you standing in between, his hands resting comfortably by his sides on the bed. Honestly, it took you everything not to go insane.

“I just didn’t want it to be in front of you,”

“Why?” you said slowly, pressing the ice bag on his bruise now.

“There’s something called ��saving face’,” he chuckled, hands making contact with yours atop the ice bag, eventually reluctantly having to remove yours from it.

“Well, Park, I’m always ready to witness a new side of you,”

Sunghoon let out a laugh of amusement, head tilted to the side with a small grin. “You haven’t seen the singer side of me yet. We need to go karaoke one day,”

“Writing that down later,”

“You should be sleeping instead, sweets, it’s late,” he straightened up, poking your arm gently. “Talk tomorrow?”

You nodded, unable to push down the feeling of disappointment that you had to go to bed already. “Don’t leave the ice bag melting in your room!” you called out as he exited, him only responding with a dismissive wave.

Was it bad that as you changed in his room and got ready for bed, you secretly craved his presence? It probably was. Your promise to yourself about keeping your heart safe was gradually breaking. Something about him just made you open your heart easier, as if he was just too easy to love. Even when you tucked yourself into the familiar sheets of his, you thought of him. The bed felt lighter unlike the last time you were here.

Time was passing but you seemed to be awake, wondering what the girls were up to after seeing their last messages, pondering if you should get out of bed for a cup of water. Your internal monologue got interrupted once you heard the door creak, heavy footsteps filled the room before you felt a dip in the bed.

You turned around, opening your eyes in an instant, meeting Sunghoon’s tired ones in the dim glow from the night light. “Hoonie?”

He turned frantic and sat up, probably not expecting you to be awake. “Sorry. I–I can leave if you want to,”

You shook your head, patting the spot next to you. “Stay. It’s fine,”

“You sure?”

“I am. This isn’t our first anyway,” you tucked yourself in, watching Sunghoon’s careful movements as he made himself comfortable. “I’m guessing you can’t sleep because it wasn’t your bed, huh?”

“Bingo,” he yawned out. “What about you? I didn’t think you’d be awake now,”

You shrugged, reaching over to sweep the loose strands away from his face. It might’ve been a small gesture, but at that moment, Sunghoon froze. “I don’t know, I just couldn’t sleep,”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You’d want to know?”

He considered for a second, then shook his head softly, his gentle smile gracing his features, one that shone even in the dark. “I’ll keep myself curious. Let’s talk in the morning or else we’ll be some sleep deprived zombies. Night, Y/N,”

“Night, Hoonie.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to close your eyes after he had done so. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were barely inches away from him, the close proximity had your skin grazing against each other. You wanted to reach over and trace the moles on his face, to count each of his breaths and heartbeat, but you held yourself back, merely basking in his presence until you slowly drifted off to sleep yourself.

Truthfully, it had been him that occupied your thoughts. You were thinking about him. He was solely the reason you couldn’t sleep.

Park Sunghoon. What were you doing to me?

"YOU'RE COMING BACK, RIGHT?"

Holiday season was coming soon and break was approaching. You were packing some clothes for your short stay back home until your phone rang, noticing it was your mother who'd called.

"I am," you said, glancing around the floor that happened to be a mess of clothes. "Aren't you happy I'm coming home this year?"

"Of course I am," she exclaimed. "But you know what's exciting too?"

"What?"

"Mrs Park and her family are coming over for dinner during the holidays!"

Oh. My. God.

"Huh?"

"Mrs Park? You've met her!"

"Since when were you buddies with her?" You abandoned your packing, now standing up with your hand on your hips.

"Since you were gone, hello? Can't I make some friends?"

"That's not what I meant,"

"Well, she's nice and we have a lot of things in common. Plus, aren't you friends with her son?"

"Uh—" 'friends' was maybe not the most suitable word to describe your relationship with him.

"Whatever it is, get close to him. You know how charming he is—"

"I get it, mum, not setting me up with someone for a day won't kill you,"

"You being single will kill me eventually," she grumbled on the other end, but you decided to wave it off. "Anyway, come back as early as you can, I need help, okay?"

"I will,"

"Bring your friend over too since she's dropping you off. Jennifer, was it?"

"She's the one,"

"I'll pack her some food. Bye."

"Bye," you ended the call with an exasperated sigh, falling into bed and kicking your clothes away.

How were you to survive the holidays when Sunghoon was coming over?

You weren't.

The days leading up to it were long and it didn’t help that it was. When the time came, you still hadn’t gotten a proper grip of yourself to face him either. You couldn’t even explain the reason you felt nervous seeing him. Was it because you haven’t seen him in person for a while? His text messages were nothing but excitement about seeing you again, and you couldn’t lie, it made your heart flip.

Your efforts to make yourself more presentable definitely didn’t go to waste. The moment Sunghoon entered the comforts of your home, his eyes never left yours and your figure. Neither could yours. He was dressed formally, a suit paired with a black tie, hair combed neatly. He knew he had an effect on you and he sure was utilising it well. However, you were affecting him in the same way.

After your mother’s over enthusiastic welcome and overflowing compliments to Sunghoon, you and him were finally left alone. Your mother made sure to give you a knowing glance before leaving, which totally screamed, ‘go get your man’ and you knew she was not backing down.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he whispered to you, greeting you in the absence of each other’s parents who wandered off to the dining area, leaving you two by the door. “You look amazing tonight,”

“Thank you, kind sir,” your hands travelled up to his tie. “You’re very handsome too,” you’ve never seen him in a suit before, and you were very much eating up every part of it now.

“Thank you,” he said, a sense of tenderness in his gaze and voice. “How was your holiday? How’s it going?”

“Nothing much. I’ve done some shopping and lazed around, that’s all,” it was true, being back home, you wanted to do nothing and eventually submitted to staying in bed or calling the girls once in a while. “You?”

“Trained a little—force of habit—played games, watched movies, and even helped Jay plan a date,”

“Seriously?”

He laughed a little, but nodded in response, the dimples on his face making you swoon secretly. There was a pause between you and him, but then you spoke up, unintentionally slipping out your inner thoughts to him.

“Can I be honest?”

“Yeah,” he responded without a doubt.

“I missed you,”

Sunghoon most likely didn’t expect the words that poured from your lips. Hell, he seemed to be in disbelief that you actually said it. Although his cheeks didn’t flush red, the tips of his ears did give it away, turning scarlet by the next second. He let out a cough, trying to mask his reaction.

“I missed you too,”

If you could explode now, you would. The corners of your lips were twitching, eventually stretching into a smile, a feeling of giddiness that you haven’t felt in a long time bubbled internally. Sunghoon’s nose crinkled with a wide smile, his eyes filled with a type of affection that no one else could mirror.

“Guys, let’s eat!”

It was time for dinner, but you simply wanted to stay by the door with Sunghoon. He waited for you to join his side first before leaving, hands instinctively reaching for yours but then again, it was a dinner with your family around, the two of you had to be more lowkey, so all he could was retract his hand. But when he pulled the chair for you, he made sure to slyly place his hand on your waist, eliciting a small gasp and narrowed gaze from you.

Cunning bastard.

Throughout the dinner, Sunghoon didn’t hide how obvious his attention was on you. At all. The occasional glance from Sunghoon was something you didn’t miss, neither was his laughter that filled your ears or his attentiveness whenever you talked. The exchange of brief smiles and knees coming in contact from time to time had your mind on a shutdown, you couldn’t get him off your mind.

When it was time for dessert, your families shifted to the living room area to talk over glasses of wine, once again leaving you two together. There was nowhere else you could be alone with Sunghoon other than your room, so you made the most sane decision by dragging him there, hoping your parents wouldn’t think you’re up to something unright.

“I didn’t strike you as a rock fan,” he glanced around your room, specifically at the posters of rock bands that you kept up since you were fourteen.

“Me too,” you joked, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. “It was a phase I had years back,”

“Emo rocker teen phase?”

“I guess you can say that,” you patted the empty spot next to you, hoping he’d come and join you. “I don’t have games to entertain you here though,”

“Haha,” he said flatly and sarcastically, accepting your silent offer and joined your side, feeling the slight dip of your bed.

“You know, you’re the first guy I welcomed into my room,”

“I am?”

You nodded, shifting awkwardly from the short length of your dress that continuously hiked up. “I don’t really know what to do,”

“You don’t need to, we can just do nothing,” he reassured, bumping your shoulder softly. “We can talk if you want to?”

“I’d love to,” you smiled, not expecting a different kind of intimacy, maybe the best kind even. “Will it be weird to ask if we can lie down?”

“Not at all, sweets,”

Sunghoon happily obliged your request, stripping his suit blazer off, then making sure to take his shoes out before he lied down and got comfortable in those sheets of yours. You, however, could call yourself a mastermind. Not knowing your simple request could somehow let you witness Sunghoon in his white button up and black tie paired with his dishevelled silver hair, you created a new kind of girl dinner for yourself.

You hid your gaze and lied down next to him, feeling the warmth emitting from his body and his cologne entering your senses. It didn’t take long for you to regret your choices and surrender to the fact that you were not God’s strongest soldier.

“How’s hockey going?” you broke the ice (pun intended) first, turning your head a little to sneak a peek of him.

“It’s alright, I suppose?” you felt him shrugging beside you, shoulders brushing against yours for the millionth time. At this point, he should just hold your hand, and you’re also going to pretend you never thought of what you just said. “There was this crazy time a few games back where Heeseung fought someone. I wasn’t surprise that he did since he tends to pull this type of shit but wow,”

You let out a scoff in disbelief and surprise. The sweet looking captain was a hothead on ice? You couldn’t believe that. “What for?”

“Someone talked shit about his now girlfriend, which was totally reasonable for him to punch the guy honestly,”

“It is! Go him,” you said in awe, reaching over to poke his cheek, which obviously startled him before he relaxed into your touch. “Tell me more hockey stories, there’s probably lots of drama, right?”

“Where do I begin?”

Time passed too fast with the way Sunghoon told his stories and you hated the fact that it did. All of the stories he told were extra entertaining when he flailed his hands around dramatically, making sound effects and even acting them out, increasing your adoration for him unknowingly. He was just so cute. But then again, fun didn’t last long when it reached the end of the night and the Park family was ready to leave for home.

You were bidding his parents goodbye before you reached him, standing by the door the same as earlier, having the same emotions and mirroring the same smiles. Secretly, you didn’t want him to leave. What you didn’t know was neither did he, he wished to have you laughing next to him again.

“Thanks for having me tonight,” he said, suit blazer held in one hand. “And especially for your room tour, I loved those posters,”

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m glad you were here tonight,”

Somehow, in your words, it spoke much more than it had been said. The emotions conveyed from it was just enough for him to know, to realise.

“I’m glad you were with me too.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SAW SUNGHOON PARTYING WITH A GIRL?”

You swore a blood vessel was about to burst on a Saturday morning.

“I was sober, alright? And if you guys were with me yesterday, you would’ve known,” Yunjin took a sip out of her specially made hangover cure, wincing for a second.

“You know we’re not falling for that,” Wonyoung bit back, leaning in with a questioning look. “Now spill,”

“I saw him yesterday at the party with this girl, got pretty handsy and really close, I’m not sure if they kissed or anything,”

“What happened after?” you asked out of curiosity, slowly losing the war of not giving a fuck.

“I don’t know, didn’t see them,”

Wonyoung gasped under her breath, raising her eyebrows. “That bitch,”

Yunjin shrugged, finishing the last of her drink. “Well, it’s not the best to write him off that quick,”

“I mean, we’re not even dating, he can do whatever he wants,”

“Don’t pull that card here please,” Yunjin had her hand up, both her and Wonyoung staring at you like hawks. “You can’t pretend you two don’t have the hots for each other,”

“Well, you’re not wrong,”

“We know, love,” Wonyoung’s smile turned sinister, a plan already up her sleeve, an idea brewing in that head of hers. “Which is why, you should go on a date,”

“What?”

“Oh my god, spite him,” Yunjin jumped on Wonyoung’s idea almost immediately. “Go text him you’re getting ready for a date or something, make him jealous,”

“He’ll come running, trust me,” Wonyoung clapped her hands, already scheming up a master plan. “I have a candidate in mind, he’s a friend of mine,”

You and Yunjin looked at Wonyoung expectantly, her smile turning into a smirk. “A player from a rival team. Eric Sohn.”

If there was something Yunjin and Wonyoung excelled at, it was being masterminds. You couldn't believe you got yourself roped into this plan of theirs, but maybe you just needed a small push, and so did Sunghoon.

First step: tell him about your date plans.

hooners: you're going on a date?

you: yeah :// wonyoung set me up with this guy

hooners: i seee, where are you having it?

you: at the place nearby, Atelier I think?

hooners: ooo, have fun!

'Have fun' was definitely typed with zero genuinity, which also meant your plan was working.

“He's taking the bait. Now, onto the date,”

Eric was a nice guy. You didn't know what Wonyoung managed to bribe him with but surprisingly, he was willing to go out on a date, except he didn't know it was a plan to make his hockey rival jealous. Awkward.

The next step that Wonyoung claimed would be helpful was taking pictures to post on your Instagram after. A picture on your story would be enough to spur him and get him texting you back, or so she claimed.

Eric was in the middle of telling you about his course and his random hockey stories when he paused out of nowhere. His gaze averted over your head to somewhere else, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I—uhm—Y/N, is that someone you know? He won’t stop staring,”

You turned your head around, following Eric's gaze only to find Sunghoon looking back at you.

This wasn't part of the plan.

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk greeted you. Both of his friends Jay and Heeseung were accompanying him too, but unlike him, they seemed clueless to the fact that you were there.

You stiffly turned back to face Eric, nodding slowly. “It's … complicated, don't mind him or his friends. How's your pasta?”

It would've been easy to ignore Sunghoon if only he wasn't staring at you from time to time and you could feel his burning gaze. He was purposely making this hard for you and you were pissed that the plan was somehow backfiring. So, while Eric was taking his toilet break, you took the chance to text Sunghoon, typing rather angrily.

you: what are you doing here?

hooners: out for dinner with the boys

you: HERE?

hooners: what’s wrong with this place? is the food bad?

He’s got to be kidding.

you: you know what i mean

you: i’m going to strangle you!!!!

hooners: yeah? what else?

You glanced up from your phone, whipping your head to the table he was sitting at, scoffing in disbelief. Trying to continue the last hours of your date was about to be a challenge for you and you were going to be a fighter even if it meant you were crumbling internally.

Ignoring the obvious presence in the room was hard, but despite that, you managed to end your date successfully. You were mentally clapping yourself on the back and cheering happily. Eric, being the sweet gentleman he was, offered to drive you back, but you declined, instead, bidding him goodbye with a friendly hug.

You watched as he drove off, finally being left alone outside the restaurant’s parking lot, or so you thought.

“That was something,”

Park. Sunghoon.

“Mind explaining why you came here crashing my date?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘crashing’,”

“Really?” you stared accusingly at him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Sunghoon coughed, adjusted his posture and put on a serious expression. “Well, that’s b–because I wanted to check up on you in case—I don’t know—something goes wrong. I know when someone’s an asshole and I don’t want you dating an asshole,”

“Thanks? He was actually such a sweetheart,”

You didn’t miss the way Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Why’re you out on a date anyway?”

“It just happened,” you shrugged, playing nonchalant even though you were feeling the opposite of that. “Why were you getting handsy with a girl yesterday?”

Sunghoon blinked, then again before realisation dawned on him. “Are you jealous?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I am. Now, don’t try changing the subject,”

For a moment, his straightforwardness caught you off guard and made you pause. His bluntness was something you’d always be surprised of. You kissed your teeth, heaving a breath in. “Fine, I am. I know you don’t owe me anything since we’re not official or whatever, but I didn’t expect you out there dancing with another girl … I thought I meant something to you,”

“You do! You mean more than just something to me, Y/N,” Sunghoon bursted out, his desperate eyes searching for yours. “Gods, I got drunk yesterday and I admit, we danced a little too … close, but after that I tried brushing her off before it escalated. I left before anything else happened, which meant nothing happened at all, seriously,”

Were you feeling stupid? Very much so. But were you somewhat glad? You were. Misunderstandings were going to be the death of you always.

“I’d never lie to you, Y/N, never in a million years” he continued on, stepping closer to test the waters. You gave him the greenlight.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out as you felt him engulfing you in a hug, melting into his touch. “I can’t believe I’m overreacting,”

“You’re not. I would’ve reacted the same, except I wouldn’t have the balls to tell you,” he rubbed your back in comfort and reassurance, your embarrassment soon dissipated and you laughed quietly at what he said.

“Just like today?”

“Kinda?” He was still stubborn enough to not admit it.

You slowly pulled away, but his hands were still around your waist, holding you close to him. “I trust you, Hoonie. I’m sorry I doubted you for a second,”

“You’re okay, Y/N, really. I know I’ve still yet to fully gain your trust and I get it. You’ve gotten hurt in the past, I know, but I promise I won’t do the same. You have to let me into your heart just as much as I do,”

“Oh Hoonie,” you said softly, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him back into a hug, both of your hearts fluttering without each other’s knowledge. “I promise I will.”

At that point, you’ve unknowingly already given up your heart to the man before you, surrendering to him. Because you, too, were willing to give up anything for him, just the same as he felt.

“SO, YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU HAVEN’T SEEN SUNGHOON IN A WHILE?”

Being back home when your parents were away on vacation was a relaxing time for you. Spring break came sooner than you expected. Not only did you get the place to yourself, but also the car for you to drive yourself in and out at any time now that you’re home. It was heavenly.

Wonyoung stopped by for a visit to keep you company, and you expected some chill time together by painting nails, watching movies, singing karaoke, but no, instead, she started digging Sunghoon related information from you. What was her objective? To get to the bottom of why you and Sunghoon weren’t making any advancements, especially in recent weeks of no updates.

“I’ve been busy, he’s been busy, so I guess that’s why,” you mumbled, not realising how disappointing it was until you’ve said it out loud. The text messages he sent were getting less, the times you’ve met up weren’t much. You were pushing these feelings and thoughts down without knowing, finally revealing them now when Wonyoung brought it up. “I feel like he’s avoiding me, actually,”

“What makes you think that?”

“We always have dinner together every Friday, or we try to eat together at least once a week, but lately, he’s been saying that he’s busy. Then, the other time I saw him, he just waved and dashed away, that’s all. We’ve been texting but it felt less than usual,”

“Oh, Y/N,” Wonyoung wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in. “Maybe he’s going through something. I say, give it a little more time, and if it’s still like this, go confront him. There’s nothing better than communication and talking it out,”

“You’re right, maybe I just find him soon,”

“But first, you need some self healing. Come on, let’s watch some movies and put on facial masks,”

Dusk soon fell upon the skies and you ended the day off with another classic 2000s movie playing in the background. Wonyoung was busy showering while you lounge comfortably on the couch, unaware of what’s happening miles away until you heard your phone buzzing with continuous notifications.

jay: Y/N!!! are you here tonight?

you: JAY!!! and where is ‘here’ supposed to be?

jay: the arena duhhh, there’s a game tonight, but it ended already

jay: we won btw ;)

you: really? i wasn’t told of it :(( but yayy! congrats!

jay: thank you! and huh? i thought hoon would’ve told you

you: he didn’t …

jay: speaking of hoon, the thing is … he’s been acting strange all game and idk what’s up with him

you: ?

jay: it’s weird. he’s been very aggressive tonight and that’s so unlike him. he’s not the type to be like this

jay: did something happen between you two? he’s been a little off lately

you: i don’t know too jay, that’s the problem i’ve been facing too

Jay's messages kept circling your mind endlessly even after Wonyoung left and you were ready to call it a night. It wasn't a coincidence that even Sunghoon's best friend found his behaviour odd, something must've been wrong.

You were in bed, snugged in your blankets, phone in one hand scrolling through your Instagram feed, but you couldn't stop the feeling that itched you. Rather than going to sleep, you couldn't help pressing into the messaging app, silently hoping for a notification to pop up from someone.

Sighing deeply, you gave up your last piece of hope and decided to ignore the distress you were feeling. Turning around and calling it a night, you didn't expect your wishes to be heard right at that moment.

Ding.

It came from your phone.

In a blink of an eye, you got up immediately and let the bright light of your phone disorient your eyes.

hooners: are you up?

hooners: i'm outside right now

Outside? Where?

hooners: your house btw

No way.

You scrambled out of bed, almost tripping in your steps and raced to your window looking like a crazed person. There he was, Park Sunghoon, flesh and bones, anxiously waiting by his car and taking peeks at your window, not noticing you.

In those years of living in your house, you've never run down the stairs as fast as you've just done. Swinging the door open, you faced the white headed hockey player.

"Y/N," he started, moving closer, though hesitant.

"Sunghoon,"

His actual name sounded foreign from you, and it only made him realise how much he’s fucked up, but somehow, hearing you say his name brought him comfort after the time away from you. Maybe he was just insane but who knows.

“What are you doing here? It's late,” you continued, nerves creeping up on you.

“I wanted to come see you,”

Now he’s done it.

“After avoiding me for weeks on end?”

“I wasn’t—” Sunghoon’s first instinct was to defend himself, but then he realised that you had a point, and in fact, he was the idiot here. Not to mention, an asshole too.

Your grip on the door tightened, an unexpected feeling of frustration welled up. “You sure? Look, Hoon, I don't know what's been going on with you lately, but it feels like you're pushing me away gradually. Maybe it isn't obvious, but it's the little things … and it hurts,”

“I know that I've been an asshole, and that I've been treating you unfairly, but there's just so many things going on in my head right now,”

“You don't get to do that,” you murmured, shaking your head and not believing the excuse he gave, one that you've heard many times from others. “Tell them to me, then! I'm here, Hoon, I'm always here if you need me. Don't push me away, please,”

Sunghoon was dying internally from the stupidest excuses he gave, and after hearing the desperation in your voice, he swore he was about to break soon. “I can't tell you about them,” he said quietly, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

“Why not?” Your frustration grew, stubbornness evident, meanwhile his patience thinned. “You told me to trust you and I do, but do you not trust me? Why can't you let me in your heart?”

“It's not that … not at all … no,”

“Then what is it?!”

“God—It's because I like you! I'm in love with you, Y/N,”

Love?

“It’s not that I’m not letting you in my heart, it’s just—” Sunghoon’s resolve was breaking, he simply couldn’t bear holding in the truth anymore, showing his vulnerability, “—I’m scared,”

You were stunned to say the least, but you kept silent, letting him continue.

“Over the past weeks, I’ve been figuring out what my feelings were, I wanted to make things clear. At one point, I just wanted to reveal it all to you, but everytime I see you I feel like I'm about to burst,” he ran a hand through his hair out of habit, clearly distressed, “I didn’t know how to tell you, I was scared I’ll fuck up, but in those days, I didn’t realise how much I was hurting you too,”

“I was a mess and I didn’t want you to see me like this, I’m sorry,” he took a step closer, your hand wanted to reach out for him, but you found yourself frozen in place. “I couldn’t get you off my mind all game. I knew I just had to tell you tonight,”

You didn’t know what to say. He liked you? Wait, no—he’s in love with you. The best part was that you felt the same, but were you also angry at him? You were.

“You’re so stupid,” you punched his shoulder, gaze narrowed at him after a solid minute of taking everything in. “I can’t believe you were avoiding me,” you mumbled, your rage dissolving into affection, your heart melting and you felt light headed. “But I understand, Hoon, I just wished you didn’t push me away,”

“I know,” he closed the space in between and pulled you close, hugging you and practically caged you in his arms, not that you were complaining. “I’m sorry,”

“I forgive you,” you ran your hand on his back in an attempt to reassure him. “I like you too, Hoonie, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you could feel his smile. “You always know what I’m thinking,”

“Hold on,” you pulled away slowly, your hand absentmindedly travelling to the back of his neck. “Does this—are we—”

“Officially together?” he finished your sentence, causing you to break into an amused smile. “I've been dying to ask this for a long time—well, Y/N, can I be your boyfriend?”

“You’re so cheesy!” you hit his chest, bursting out laughing and your laughs became infectious, resulting in him doing the same. “Yes, Park, I’d love to be your girlfriend,”

“So … as my girlfriend, can I kiss you right now?”

“Say less,”

The moment you crashed your lips onto his, you swore you saw stars. His lips melted softly against yours perfectly. Without thinking, your hands pulled him in with force and your skilled effort managed to close the door behind you, only giving Sunghoon the chance to push you against it immediately.

He let out a soft groan which only sent butterflies down in your abdomen (plus somewhere else that you wouldn't admit there and then), his hands exploring the span of your body just as much as yours did to him. Knowing that you liked him back and getting to kiss you after months of pining had Sunghoon feeling as if he was on top of the world, he just couldn't get enough especially when he hasn't been close to you for weeks.

By the time you two pulled away from one another, you were both breathless and a panting mess, you were craving for him still and the fire burning in his eyes was enough to tell you that he felt the same. His hand travelled up to your cheek, gaze flickering between your irises to your lips, the tension thick enough for you to suffocate in.

“Can I kiss you again?” he whispered, both your lips lingering close enough to brush against each other, and it totally drove you insane knowing he was doing this on purpose.

You nodded, mumbling a quiet ‘yes’ and Sunghoon had never been more relieved, practically chasing after your lips as he dove back in and kissed you once more. He tilted his head just enough for him to deepen the kiss, pouring his utmost love, desperation and devotion into it, conveying an unspoken truth of affection and pining he had for you.

The night might’ve turned into a blur but it was one where you didn’t want to leave each other’s side. ‘Can you stay over tonight’ was answered with a yes and you welcomed him into your bed, staying up pouring secrets and your hidden truths.

What started as an impulsive and reckless night together turned into a blossoming love that you were hoping and dying to keep. A love that you were sure would last for evermore.

IT WAS NO SECRET THAT YOU AND SUNGHOON LOVED EACH OTHER TILL THE POINT WHERE IT WAS SICKENING TO OTHERS. YOU TWO MADE THAT VERY CLEAR AND OVERLY OBVIOUS.

Yunjin and Wonyoung were accepting of him, especially after he paid for your meals with them that definitely won them over. What could you say? You and your friends were suckers for free food and little things. His friends were equally friendly and chill, welcoming you to their gatherings and games.

But other than that, both sides were also increasingly sick of you two, in an affectionate way of course. Maybe they didn’t say it, but they were. Wherever you went, he followed; wherever he went, you followed. You were simply stuck to the hip. So, in their defence, you two resembled a lovesick couple that was still in their honeymoon phase except that phase lasted for almost a year. It was rather insufferable in the beginning, but after months towards a year, they’ve gotten used to it and found it sweet instead.

Example A. At any given chance, your name would be mentioned and so would his. Sunghoon would be caught giggling at his phone pre games in the locker room, sporting your hairband on his wrist and even having a necklace with your initials on it, claiming that it was his lucky charm. Whenever he brought you round to dinners with his best friends and their partners, you and him practically blinded the rest with the amount of love you had for one another. It couldn’t be described, it was all in the gazes and small touches that conveyed the message. Unaware about it, you and him were oblivious and trapped in your bubble.

Example B. You were just as obnoxious as him. Having a picture of him as your wallpaper and creating playlists for him, your friends were gasping at the way you were acting. Hoonie this and Hoonie that, you almost became your mother. Safe to say, you were both made for each other with the same level of obsession and delusions. Your friends were happy for you two nevertheless, and they were mostly glad that you managed to find someone compatible.

Speaking of your mother, the time when you broke the news to her, you knew she would be elated, and she was. The first time you brought him back home, your mother greeted him with wide open arms, having the best dinner ever. It was the same for his parents. They were just as welcoming and loving, crushing your nerves when you went over to meet them.

Life might be stressful still but it was going great for you. There you were in your room rushing a last minute holiday assignment, bummed out that you were missing one of Sunghoon’s game, currently only getting crumbs by waiting for his messages and seeing him days after for your date.

By the time you were halfway through your assignment, you were dozing off, phone placed in ‘do not disturb’ mode, not knowing that your phone was receiving messages then.

Knock. Knock.

The sound coming from the window definitely got you awake at once. Alarmed and wary, you got up from your chair and slowly turned around to where your window was. But the sight you were witnessing before you had you relieved and sighing.

It was Sunghoon, and he was hanging on for dear life, somehow still managing a lopsided smile for you.

Despite still being surprised, you shook it off and rushed over to pull the windows open to let him in, wondering how in hell did he pull off climbing up to your window unharmed. Helping yank him through the window was enough workout for the week, but you got him in thankfully without making any odd or loud noises that might wake your parents up.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, rather breathlessly, snaking an arm around your middle, pulling you in naturally.

“Hi,” you whispered, letting him lean down to pepper kisses all over your face, travelling from your forehead to your cheeks before it landed on your lips. “I thought you’re coming over on Saturday?”

“I wanted to come find you,” he smiled against a haste kiss, face beaming. “The team won big tonight and I was sad you weren’t there. You’re basically my lucky charm,”

“Well, your lucky charm is stuck home doing her assignment,” you frowned, pinching his cheek softly. “Will you be staying over? It’s late, and you’re driving,”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course I do,”

Sunghoon could never say ‘no’ to you.

“I’ll stay with you,”

“I have clothes from which you left last time,” you noted, pursing your lips as you think of where you’ve put them. “I’ll go get them for you,”

“It’s fine,” he grabbed your wrist to stop you from taking another step from him. “Later, maybe. I just want you here,”

Trying to feel so normal and unphased from what he just said, which totally failed. His words got you grinning like an idiot, and you knew you should be getting used to his unprompted affection with words, but it still surprises you and makes you flush at times.

“Stop, I have a boyfriend,” you joked lightly, to which he caught on easily.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “Oh yeah? I’ll beat him up right now,”

“He’s probably going to fuck you up,”

“He probably stinks!”

“Yeah he does!”

“Hey!” he laughed, wrapping both his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. Contrary to what you’ve just said, he actually smelt really good. Fresh from a shower and having the specific scent of that heavy cherry shampoo you bought for him, you could die in his arms at that moment.

“I love you,”

Your tiredness and drowsiness evaporated once you heard what he’d said. It wasn’t a part of your hallucinations, right? He said it clearly and loudly, it definitely was something you couldn’t miss at all.

“I–is something wrong?” Your momentary disassociation and silence worried your boyfriend who tried checking up on you as he pulled away slowly. You shook your head, wasting no more time to tell him what you feel.

“I love you too,”

His stare softened, the worry in his gaze turned to relief. The biggest smile appeared on his face, his eyes turned into crescents and the constellations of moles shone brighter than ever. There were times where Sunghoon felt actual happiness. Ones where he won championships and important games, childhood memories, but this was surely going to be a new addition.

“Should we call it a night soon?”

“Are you just trying to get me to cuddle you?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, though not denying it. “Yes,”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you knew him by now, his patterns and the littlest details about him. Shaking your head slightly, your face had a playful grin plastered on. “Race you to it?”

“You’re challenging a pro-athlete now?”

“Hm, maybe?” you didn’t even give him a second before dashing away to your bathroom, leaving him stunned and frozen.

“Hey! That’s so not fair!”

“Boohoo! Got a head start!”

“Unfair!”

If this was what it’s like to be with Sunghoon, you’d never trade it for anything, even if he’s an annoying sassy man at times. Never in a million years would you have expected yourself dating the star player of the hockey team, player number 23. He showed you colours and taught you a secret language you couldn’t see with anyone else. He showed you what love meant and what it was worth.

The road that led to him and this might’ve been questionable and long, not to mention, crazy and stupid, but alas, there was so much love and affection that couldn’t be measured. It was a crazy, stupid, love.

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special thanks to those who've been here since the start. i'm super thankful and i know who exactly you are! so shout out to all of you and i hope you'll look forward to my future works. as for those that tune in from time to time, still, thank you for supporting me and my works. quite emotional about the fact that this series had ended since it's my first ever one and to be able to receive so much love from it just makes me feel genuinely amazed. i'm really happy that you guys enjoy my writing and give me words of encouragement. i love reading all your messages/asks/comments. grateful that you're here, love you all. much love and kisses from me. thank you.

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ellatoone7 · 1 month

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❄︎ Retirement ready ❄︎

Alexia's favourite girls series

Alexia is more than ready to spend all her time with her girls

You were incredibly surprised at how well Alexia had been taking her retirement. Of all the ways you imagined this moment it was always more dramatic, but your wife seemed to be at peace as she walked out of the tunnel for the last time.

The crowd absolutely erupted as she lined up as Captain for the last time. Isabella was standing on her chair with her Putellas jersey proudly displayed on her back. Emilia watched with wide eyes as the place chanted her Mami’s name. “Mami sad?” Emilia asked with tears in her eyes, “No sweetheart, mamí is happy.” The younger blonde doesn’t seem so sure, “You know what this means? Mami is going to have so much more time to play with you and bring you to school.” Emilia lit up at the thought of more mamí time.

Alba was sitting next to you, not having too much care for football but she loved her sister dearly, so she put up with it. “You think she’s sad Alb’s? Do you think this is right thing for her to do? I don’t want her to resent anything.” Alba scoffed amusedly as she gently patted you swollen stomach, “Have you seen the way she acts when she’s with her daughters? I mean there could be a Champions league final that she’s supposed to play but if one of those little girls asked her to stay at home, she wouldn’t be able to even spell football.”

You looked back at the pitch as Alexia’s eyes roamed the stadium in search of something. You smiled curiously until you saw her eyes absolutely light up when she catches sight of her family. Isabella nearly falls of her chair as she blows Alexia a kiss for it to be reciprocated immediately. Emilia reached out her arms for her and you see the longing in your wife’s eyes as she subtly reached out too.

Then her eyes fell onto you as she stared up at you with so much adoration. With a soft ‘Te amo’ and a kiss to her ring she disappeared down the tunnel for halftime. Alba stared at you with a cocky smile as you gently shouldered with a giggle.

“Abuela! Look at my jersey!” Emilia shouted over the noise as she showed Eli her brand-new custom-made jersey that she had showed just about everyone with eyes. Eli cooed as she kissed both of her cheeks and offered to take both girls to get ice cream.

Alexia was on cloud nine as she entered the dressing room. She was beyond excited to hang up her boots and throw herself into her family. “Ay amiga, No parezcas muy feliz.” Mapí threw her arm around her shoulder with a giggle as she pressed a kiss to her best friend’s cheek. Ingrid had retired a few weeks ago as they too had a little boy and girl. Mapí was going to stay for another month before she joins them. Irene had retired the season before and was sitting by her family.

“No puedo evitarlo. Mi Familia…” Mapí just hugged her tighter as she nodded softly. “No puedo creer que nos abandones.” A voice from behind the two friends had Alexia grinning as she slightly shoved her ‘adopted’ daughters, “Como si vosotros dos no vinierais al menos tres veces a la semana.” Pina giggled while agreeing while Jana hugged her Captain.

“Vamos a ganar este partido para la reina!” A victorious chant was let out as the girls made their way down the tunnel. “Vamos amiga!” Mapí grinned as she took her hand and led her down to the field. The second half flashed by with Alexia scoring her last ever goal and immediately dedicating it to her daughters and her wife.

“Mama! We met Auntie Leah and Less. They came to see Mami’s game!” Emilia squealed as she waved at her English ‘aunts’. Emilia had gotten lost when she was just two years old when Alexia had turned her back for two seconds. It was at the Emirates, and it just so happened that Alexia wanted to bring her family on a holiday straight after. Luckily Leah had been roaming around to check the field one more time before tomorrow when she spotted the little girl.

She recognised her straight away from Kiera and Lucy’s constant rambling at how cute their Captains’ daughters were. Leah told the two-year-old that she knew her mamí and could bring her to her which Emilia immediately agreed too. Alexia was losing her absolute mind as she had the whole team frantically searching for Emilia. Leah had finally found the Spanish Captain and they were fast friends after that.

Alexia and Leah’s friendship was teasingly competitive yet very entertaining to everybody, but Alexia was eternally grateful to Leah for that day and Emilia had imprinted on her. You gave Leah a wave and she sent you a playful wink before focusing on the game at hand.

The final whistle blew, and you were waiting for your wife to break down but the smile that nearly split her face was extremely welcome too. Alexia immediately ran to the barriers as you slowly made your way down, Alba had taken Emilia and Isabella ahead of you, so you didn’t trip and fall with their excitement. “Mi bébé’s!” Emilia reached her arm down but pouted and whines as she couldn’t reach her mamí.

Alexia and Alba shared amused looks as the girl tried to reach again. Alba with the help of Irene had lifted Isabella over the barrier and into Alexia’s awaiting arms. “Hola Is! Did you enjoy the game!” Isabella hugged her tightly, “Sí, Mami your goal was incredible.” Alexia kissed her cheek before setting her down to catch her other daughter. Jana and Pina had already kidnapped Isabella as they chased her around.

After Emilia was safely in Alexia’s arms did, she smile again. She gave her mamí a kiss as she snuggled into her neck, “Mama said you will have mucho time to play now!” Alexia giggled as she threw the blonde into the air, “You will be sick of me mi princesa!” Emilia looked horrified at the thought of being sick of her Mami and just decided to give her another kiss too.

“Mateo?” Emilia asked with wide eyes as she stared up at Irene wanting to know where her best friend had gone. Alexia reassured Irene that it was fine as she reached up to bring the little boy down with a kiss to the cheek. Emilia squealed as they were reunited, and Alexia threw Irene a knowing glance as they watched them gallivant around with their hands joined.

“Right, who’s lifting me down?” You joked as you made your appearance. The girls’ eyes widened as you shouldered Irene teasingly, “Hola amor.” Alexia stared up at you, hoping to convey how much she loved you with her eyes. “How do I get down again?” Alexia smiled at your urgency to see her as she nodded at Alba who helped you down to the tunnel.

Irene had managed to climb down as she wanted to keep an eye on the partners in crime. She hugged Alexia tightly as they shared a moment while watching their kids. “¿No te recuerdan a otras dos personas?” Irene smiled slightly bumping her hip into her Captains. Alexia chuckled as the inside joke that was circling ever since Mateo confessed his love for his best friend and Emilia had immeditaley accepted. Alexia smiled as she thought of you, and she swivelled her head keeping her eye on Isabella and Emilia.

Alexia ran when she saw you, wanting nothing more than to finish her final lap with you by her side. The final piece of the puzzle as you had watched her very first match and had barely missed one since. She pulled you into her tightly as you kissed her neck softly, “I’m so proud of you.” Alexia teared up slightly as she kissed you lovingly wanting to sear this moment into her brain forever.

Her hands were pressed to your stomach as she kissed you once again. “How’s my other princesa huh?” Alexia asked as she bowed her head to press a kiss to your stomach. “Still convinced it’s a girl?” Alexia and Alba, both threw you a knowing look, “Putellas’s only know how to make girls cariño.” The proof was in the pudding as both of your daughters came rushing over to get a family picture. Mateo took Emilia’s coat as she kissed his cheek in thanks before joining the pictures. Irene had to hold her son up as she nearly collapses at the sign of affection.

Alexia picks her four-year-old up when she makes grabby hands and Isabella stands proudly in front of the three of you as you pose for a picture. Alexia’s arm is around your waist as her eyes stray to you not noticing the picture being taken as she takes in her little family. You get a few more with Alba and Eli and even one with Mateo at the insistence of the blonde.

Alexia does get emotional as she does her lap of the field but because of how happy and content she is with her little family. “Are you sure you are okay with this?” You ask when you see her get teary eyed, but she just kisses you soundly, “Amor, I want to spend every second with my girls. I want to do this, I wished I had sooner.” She pressed her lips to your temple, “I don’t want to miss any more moments, I want it all, vale.” You wipe away a tear as she chuckled softly, holding you tightly as she pulled you closer again.

You watch as her eyes light up as you follow her line of sight, Isabella is sending rockets at Cata while she out skills Mapí, even though they are going a bit easy on her. The smile on her freckled face is nearly a mirror image of her mother’s when she was her age and now it all made sense to why Alexia was so calm. You kiss her cheek affectionately as she places her large hand on your belly.

“Besides, my legacy will live on.”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #woso #Alexia's favourite girls

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supernovafics · 2 months

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff

summary: in which you and steve are not the best at keeping everything a secret

author's note: this is basically like three blurbs thrown into one thing<3 enjoy<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

It only felt right to end the night at Third Street. That diner was your and Steve’s go-to place; a home away from home, in a sense.

You two were way too dressed up for the informalness of the diner where the usual attire consisted of hoodies and sweatpants, or simply pajamas depending on the time of night. But, neither of you really cared that you looked sorely out of place with your black dress and Steve’s white button-up and nice black pants because you were still on cloud nine from the date you two had gone on— a “first date” that was cheesy and dumb, just like you wanted it to be.

The restaurant you went to a few towns over was almost too romantic with a candle sitting in the middle of the white cloth covered table and pretty classical music softly playing over the speakers throughout the entire place. You both smiled and laughed and attempted to play a sort of game where you limited the conversation to only topics that would typically come up during a first date. It immediately became an almost impossible game to play because you two knew pretty much everything about each other and it was hard to think of “first date questions” to ask that you didn’t already know the answer to. You two ended up talking about high school Biology for way too long until you gave up on the game entirely and spent the final half of dinner talking about anything.

And then after sharing a slice of cheesecake that was probably the blandest cheesecake either of you had ever had, you went to see a horror movie. It had been out for a while, so there was barely anyone else in the theater and you had an entire row to yourselves, which almost immediately led you two to doing things that didn’t involve actually watching the movie. Although Steve did make it a point to shield your eyes and protect you from the scariest scenes of the movie, like, he stated, “Any good date would do.” And because he was much worse with scary movies than you, you did the same thing for him.

“Should we get actual good dessert to end the night?” You had posed with a smile on your face after the movie ended and you two walked hand in hand to Steve’s car.

“Milkshakes from Third Street?”

You nodded at him. “My thoughts exactly.”

You two sat on the same side of the booth like always and shared a strawberry milkshake instead of getting separate ones, and you also decided to get a plate of onion rings to share too.

The diner was fairly empty for the most part, and the few people who were scattered around paid no attention to the two of you. Until a familiar face walked in— Eddie, and his bandmates right behind him.

He noticed you two immediately and started walking over to the booth you were occupying while Gareth and Jeff went to grab a table. “I’m guessing your dates were shitty if you’re both ending the night here.”

Hearing him say that made you remember the excuse that you both told him and Robin earlier in the week about why you’d be unavailable Friday night; you both had dates. It might’ve seemed too weirdly coincidental, but it had actually been something that happened a bunch of times before. Therefore, when you told the lie to Robin and Eddie, neither of them questioned it. And you really didn’t expect to see either of them tonight.

You nodded at his words. “Yeah, the dates were really bad. We got back home around the same time and then decided to come here.”

Eddie slid into the booth and tilted his head at the two of you. “How intense were these dates? You’re both so dressed up.”

“Um, my guy took me to a fancy restaurant,” You said as you avoided his eyes and decided to focus on the near-empty plate of onion rings.

“And I went to a different fancy restaurant,” Steve said, and you immediately bumped his knee under the table.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw you in a button-up, Harrington.”

You looked up at him again and there was something about the lazy smile on his face and slight flush of his cheeks that made you finally notice he was a little drunk, which made you inwardly sigh in relief. If Eddie wasn’t slightly inebriated in this moment, you were almost certain that he would’ve seen through the entirety of your lie. There was one empty milkshake glass with two straws sitting in front of you and Steve, and his jacket was draped across your shoulders because the cardigan you were wearing over your dress did nothing to keep you warm.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to come to Third Street— a place that all of your friends would always go to as well— when you both so obviously looked like you’d been on a date with each other, and were pretty much still on one. However, Eddie didn’t seem to connect those dots, and you were grateful.

“So, how was your gig at The Hideout?”

“Pretty good. Now we’re getting celebratory french fries,” He told you, smiling. “You guys wanna join? We can push another table together.”

“Yeah, we should.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Your and Steve’s responses came out simultaneously, but they both went unheard because Jeff calling out Eddie’s name and waving him over to their table also happened at the same time.

“Come over if you guys wanna,” He said as he slid out of the booth and started walking away.

You looked at Steve. “I think it’ll look weird if we said no.”

“I think he’s too drunk right now to notice anything weird.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true, but still,” You shrugged.

“I think we should head home,” Steve said as his hand found yours under the table. “Watch TV and fall asleep on the couch.”

The thought of that happening right then sounded perfect to you.

“Ah, yes, just like an old married couple,” You smiled.

He smiled back at you. “Exactly.”

Barely thirty minutes later, you two were in your shared living room, sprawled out on the couch in your pajamas with a blanket draped over your tangled legs that were stretched out on the coffee table. A random episode of a sitcom played on the TV and you could already feel yourself starting to fall asleep. But, it wasn’t until Steve wrapped an arm around you and you buried yourself into his side that you did.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Oh, wow. Who mauled you?”

You didn’t expect that to be the first thing Robin said to you when you walked into Family Video, but it was, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her question.

“What?”

She leaned over the counter and made a gesture to your neck. “You’re like covered in hickeys right now. I wish I had a mirror to show you.”

“Oh, fuck,” You mumbled, dropping your bag on the counter and heading to the bathroom in the back. It was labeled as “Employees Only,” but of course, that rule didn’t apply to you.

You flicked on the light and then looked in the mirror, quickly noticing the dark red marks on your neck. You were immediately reminded of Steve and what you two had been doing in his car after you both went to the class that you took together. It was a twenty-minute makeout session that only felt like five, and it abruptly ended because he had to leave for his shift and you had to head to your last class. You both had been so close to simply ditching your responsibilities for the rest of the day and letting yourselves continue to makeout in his car; and honestly, if either of you had suggested the idea, the other would’ve happily agreed. But, you had a quiz to take and Steve didn’t want Robin to have to fend for herself for the night, so you eventually, and reluctantly, pulled away from each other.

You had taken a glance in his mirror before you left his car, and your neck didn’t look half as bad as it did now.

Robin peaked in, watching you inspect yourself in the bathroom mirror. “When did this happen? Also, it wasn’t with the guy you went on that shitty date with last week, right?”

You met her eyes in the mirror for a brief second before looking away. “No, not him. It was just… Some guy that I’ve been doing a project with for the last couple of weeks. And it was like two hours ago, right before my last class. I stupidly have not looked in a mirror since,” You were practically mumbling through your lie. “Does it look really bad?”

“Oh, um… No,” The way she said her words didn’t convince you in the slightest.

“Shit,” You said as you slipped past her and headed back to the front.

Robin shrugged behind you. “At least it was good, right?”

You thought back to that moment in Steve’s car. The awkward turned position you both were in the entire time was uncomfortable and annoying, but it didn't really faze you too much because, yes, the whole thing had been really, really good.

“Yeah…” You said, glad she couldn’t see your face right then, and read into your growing smile. “Yeah, it was good.”

“I would love to hear more about him, by the way.”

You were about to make up some lying excuse about how this nonexistent relationship had already pretty much run its course, but then Steve was emerging from the back storage room with a stack of tapes in his hand, and that grabbed both your and Robin’s attention.

“Hey,” He smiled at you and then immediately noticed your neck, eyes widening a bit. “Oh, your… Your, um–”

“She had a very steamy makeout with this guy from her class earlier,” Robin filled him in.

Steve looked at you. “Oh. Oh, nice. That’s cool.”

“Yes, very cool, and not at all annoying that he decided to give me hickeys like we’re Freshmen in high school,” You deadpanned and gave Steve a look that you hoped he picked up on. “I’ll be right back. I think I have a hoodie in my car.”

You rummaged through your bag in search of your keys and then walked out of the video store once you found them, the door chiming behind you.

“Do you think it’s serious?” Robin asked after a second.

Steve looked at her. “What?”

“Her and the guy?”

He looked away then and decided to focus on the tapes he still had in his hand.

“Oh, um, no, probably not,” He shrugged as he placed the tapes on the counter.

“I don’t know,” Robin singsonged as she walked around Steve to place a movie that someone just returned on the cart. “Having a hot makeout session in the middle of the day seems at least a little serious.”

Before he could think of anything to say to that, you were walking back into Family Video, now wearing a gray “Hawkins Basketball” hoodie, and it managed to cover your neck, for the most part.

Robin simply looked at you for a few moments and then nodded. “That works. Kinda.”

“I’m glad my stolen hoodie can come in good use,” Steve said, smiling at you. “I would also love to get it back one day.”

“I stole it because I like to support your old basketball team sometimes. Go jaguars or whatever it is.”

“Tigers,” Both Steve and Robin said at the same time.

“Got it,” You said with a quick nod. You joined them behind the counter and started looking through some of the movies on the cart.

Steve began alphabetizing the tapes he set on the counter and Robin started doing something on the computer.

The door chimed barely a minute later, and a middle-aged woman came in asking for some help.

“It’s my turn, I know,” Robin mumbled to Steve before he could say anything, and she plastered on a fake smile as she walked over to the woman.

When you were certain she was out of earshot, you gave Steve a look. “Hickeys? Seriously? Your makeout privileges have been revoked until further notice.”

“I think that’ll hurt you just as much as me.”

You only rolled your eyes at him in response.

“Besides,” He said as he reached over and pushed down the part of your hoodie that was covering your neck. “I think they’re kinda hot actually.”

You shooed his hand and then looked over to where Robin was to make sure she wasn’t looking at the two of you.

“Just give me a heads up next time, so I don’t walk around looking like an idiot for two and a half hours.”

“I will,” He nodded. “And I swear I didn’t mean to leave them. You just have such a pretty and kissable neck is all.”

You were laughing as you rolled your eyes at him again. “Always such a charmer.”

“And you love it,” He whispered, grinning at you, and of course you nodded.

“I’m gonna give you a bunch of hickeys when we get home tonight,” You told him, voice matching his quiet tone. “And since I’m a nice person, I’ll do it in a place that no one will see.”

Steve was nodding immediately at your words and his response came out low. “Can’t wait.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It probably wasn’t the best idea for you two to sit right next to each other at the movie theater, but it just felt like second nature to do so.

Whenever you and Steve brought the kids to the movies, you two always sat together at the end of whatever row they decided on, sharing your own bucket of popcorn and trading candy back and forth.

Now things were obviously different, and as you sat next to each other in this moment it felt just as such too.

You desperately wanted to hold his hand and kiss the back of it, or push up the armrest that sat in between the two of you and settle your head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You wondered if Steve wanted the same things as you; if he was feeling just as affected as you’d been for the past forty minutes.

Being this close to one another in a dark setting that definitely could’ve warranted a kiss or two or more, but not being able to do anything about it, made it way too hard to focus on the movie. If asked, you would not have been able to explain any of what had happened so far.

You turned a bit to look at Steve and when his gaze met yours, he gave you a look that told you that his head was in the exact same place as yours. You quickly looked away from him to avoid impulsively doing something that would’ve entirely given away the secret you two shared.

He leaned in close to you, pretending to whisper something in your ear, but sneakily pressing a quick kiss to your cheek instead. That was when you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed a breather.

You quickly stood up, placing the popcorn bucket in your lap on the floor, and then slipped past Steve. You walked out of the theater and into the empty hallway, leaning back against the wall with a breath of a sigh.

The thought of simply staying out here until the movie was over didn’t sound like a horrible idea to you right then. It would feel much better than sitting in a theater and “watching” a movie that you hadn’t been paying attention to, while also fighting the urge to do anything with Steve.

The sound of the theater door opening caught your attention and after a second you saw him.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just keep thinking about the last time we were here, a couple weeks ago, and how we spent more time kissing than actually watching the movie.”

Steve smiled. “That was a great night.”

“Yes,” You nodded and laughed a little at his words. “And I really wish we could do that now, but obviously we can’t.”

Steve was quiet for a second. He glanced down both ends of the hallway to make sure no one else was around before he stepped toward you, hands reaching out to grab your waist. “We can out here.”

Before you could respond to that— perhaps with a half-hearted “We shouldn’t” or simple head shake— he was slowly slotting his lips against yours. You had seen it coming, but it still managed to surprise you a bit and you softly gasped against his mouth. You were kissing him back immediately, though; your arms coming up to circle his neck and pull him closer to you. He lightly pressed you back against the wall and you couldn’t help but smile.

It all lasted only for a second, though, because the sound of the theater door opening again pulled you both out of the little haze you were in, that place where no one else existed except for you and him, and you quickly moved away from each other.

Dustin walked out into the hallway and his eyebrows immediately furrowed at the two of you. “What are you guys doing out here? You’re missing so many good parts.”

“We were, uh, talking about getting more popcorn,” You said. “Do you want some too? Or maybe more candy?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Lucas was talking about running out of Skittles, though.”

“Okay, we’ll get some more of that too.”

“Move fast or you guys are gonna miss everything.”

“Got it,” Steve said, nodding. “We’ll be back in like five minutes.”

Dustin pointed to the watch on his wrist. “I’m holding you to that.”

He turned to head back inside the theater, and when the door closed behind him, you let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I said popcorn. We really don’t need more. I’m pretty sure our bucket is still mostly full.”

“I think it’s kinda funny how we’re somehow getting worse at keeping this secret,” Steve said, a small laugh falling from his lips. “The Eddie thing, the Robin thing, and now this.”

“It’s barely been two weeks. We’ll get better, eventually. Maybe.”

“Or we can just tell everyone.”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you were being so hesitant about it— especially when things between you two felt so right— but Steve didn’t question it or try to see what was up with you right then.

“Okay, we can just discreetly hold hands for the rest of the movie.”

You smiled. “I wanna say we shouldn’t push our luck right now, but I also would love to hold your hand.”

He kissed you quickly and the abruptness of the action made you laugh a bit. You were then grabbing his hand and leading him to the concessions so that you two could stand in the short line and get another pack of Skittles for Lucas.

When you were back in the theater and in your seats— attempting to solely look like just two best friends once again— he found your hand after only a few moments, interlocking your fingers and placing your joint palms in his lap. You turned to look at him and gave him a small smile, fighting the urge you had to place a soft kiss against his lips.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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somnambulic-thing · 8 months

Text

This fic is part II of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist

bendy Eddie Munson x gn!Reader with vagina&boobs, we're early 20s, E 18+ smut smut smut

Words: 3.3k

|new relationship/former best friends, fluff, pining, smut, fingering, piv, Eddie gives himself head for you, cuddling, intimacy af, silly and a little cheesy|

A/N: I kinda fell in love with those two and have two more parts partly written already. Some fics are very fun to do research for, this is one of those. If you feel like any acts in this fic are unrealistic: I don't care.

Big thanks to my cheerleaders @bettyfrommars and R<3 for the help with that story.

If you want to be tagged for the next part, reblog this post and tag it with #somnatags1 and I put you on the list

Comments and reblogs are so appreciated you have no idea.

“Eddie?”

“Mhh?”

Slouched against the wall behind his bed, Eddie doesn’t look up from the guitar in his lap. He’s dressed in nothing than grey boxers and a sun-bleached shirt that misses sleeves and most of the sides. You could fit your head in there easily, breathe him in, graze your teeth lightly over his nipple, flick it with your tongue. Your skin would prickle with anticipation of the reward you would get for your teasing. When you were lucky he would let out one of those deep, shaky hums. Your forehead pressed against his sternum you would feel the fine vibration through his skin—

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he mumbles, busy fingers turning the keys to loosen the strings he’s about to exchange for new ones, always two at a time. He could do this in his sleep, so you assume the lack of response means he’s mulling over the setlist for tomorrow night again. You never knew when the right guy with the right connections would be in the crowd after all.

You’re soaked through your underwear.

Seeing Eddie like this, completely immersed in his element and lost to the world, was already an infallible way to make you lose your mind. But you have been mulling something over as well as you watched him the past twenty minutes and the thought had you softly grinding against the cushion of the armchair. Wouldn’t be a surprise if you left a damp spot behind.

“Did you ever try to blow yourself?”

The unplugged guitar cries a discordant noise as his fingers twitch and slip. His head shoots up, eyes wide and dark, voice a high rasp. Like something itchy got stuck in his throat.

“W-what?”

The thought wasn’t new. In fact, it hadn’t been a full week after Eddie and you had finally and officially deepened your years-long relationship from friends to lovers when the thought came to you for the first time. In the days prior, there had been many thoughts, many fantasies. Some whispered against sweaty skin in gentle request, others moaned in urgent demand. Every free minute spent exploring each other’s bodies in new and thrilling ways, tangled together in one sticky writhing mess.

It had just been a blip - the thought - just a flicker in your mind.

Eddie had told you about his day. Standing in the middle of his room, bend over, hugging the back of his tights and his chest pressed almost flush against them. It was casual. No strain. Just Eddie being Eddie.

And suddenly… oh… oh!

He had unbent himself, cheeks a pretty pink from dangling upside down and pulled his shirt over his head. “Oh, and I missed you the whole fucking time,” he said softly, grinning at you out of a cloud of messy hair. The thought was gone forgotten obliterated when he climbed into the bed with you and straddled your hips.

But a seed had been planted and the soil was more than fertile.

The man couldn’t keep still; was always climbing things, spending ages comfortably squatting in one place, or bent like a pretzel wherever he settled down for more than five minutes. With each display of his ridiculous flexibility, the thought took root. Fuck by fuck, restraint and inhibition dissolved, giving way to trust and desire, nurturing that young, delicate sprout.

What it had grown into over the past months had finally borne fruit; plump and juicy and ready for harvest. The curiosity was killing you. You had to pluck it right now.

“Did you ever try to suck your cock?”

“Jesus,” he huffs and runs both hands through his hair, wavy strands wildly sticking out from between his fingers as he holds on to his roots. His pointy elbows press together in front of his face, obstructing the view you had daydreamed about so many times.

Eddie Munson has a busted-face you can usually spot from five miles away. You’re almost sure that’s what he’s trying to hide from you. There’s a sudden abundance of saliva in your mouth and you swallow hard to keep from drowning.

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Uhm, I—“ he stretches the vowel like a rubber band. “You know…”

“Ed, it’s me.”

He shifts one arm to the side and peeks out at you. “Yes,” he says on a massive exhale as if confessing a sin that had weighed on him for centuries. “Yeah, I’ve tried.”

“And?”

“A-and?”

You lean forward on the chair. The motion spreads the wetness in your underwear. “Can you do it?”

“Jesus…”

“Hey,” you say softly, “are you ashamed?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, not for either of you. Sometimes intimacy was just scary with the possibility of rejection or worse, ridicule, while all the sensitive bits lay bare and on display. But it’s the first time you had seen him at such a loss for words.

“I’m not… ashamed,“ he finally drops his hands to the mattress with a stereo thump. His face is flushed a bright red that’s spreading down his neck; he looks like he’s catching fire from the inside.

“Because there’s no reason for that. You know that, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m just curious.”

“Mhhh,” he hums and his gaze drifts away from your face to the ceiling above your head.

“Babe, do you want me to drop it?”

“Nope.” The corners of his mouth twitch and while it’s not a full smile, there’s a hint of dimples. He looks a little dazed and his voice sounds suitably viscous. “Don’t want you to drop it.”

He takes the guitar in his lap by the neck and bends over the side of the bed to lean it against the nightstand. When he shifts back, he wiggles his hips and slides a little further down the wall. “Definitely don’t want you to drop it,” he says and grabs his hard cock through the fabric of his boxers, hips twitching up at the touch.

It’s a sight you’ll never get used to; Eddie being flustered and hard for you. The squeeze of your thighs is ridiculously insufficient against the throbbing in your cunt. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’s your turn to be speechless.

Eddie grins, the tip of his tongue poking out between curled lips. He’s stroking himself lazily. “You can’t just say shit like that without a warning. I swear you cut off the blood flow to my brain for a few seconds.”

“Was just a question. I had to start somewhere.”

He laughs, deep and sultry. “Just a question— Sweetheart, you know how my imagination runs away with me.”

“Where did it go?”

“Uhm, shit.” He swallows and the hand on his cock stops moving. You see the muscles in his belly tense. “Making myself come on my face for you… and in my mouth.”

You slide your hand between your thighs with sudden urgency, moaning as your fingers press against your clit.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans too. “You like that?”

“Oh god, yes!”

“Come here,” he says and holds both arms out for you.

You move so fast you almost stumble. Eddie pulls you into his lap as soon as his hands can reach you, greedy and excited, just like his tongue when it slips past your lips. Grinding your crotch against his hard length, you suck the moan from his mouth. You swear you can taste it, sweet and juicy and dripping from your chin.

“So, you can do it?” you ask and pull his head back by his hair to access his neck, leaving him his mouth to talk for now. He groans and digs his fingers into your hips as you softly run your teeth over his skin in search of a spot to sink them into.

“Yeah, like, a little. Not all the way, fuck… Not… not even like half the way but— fuck, baby.” Eddie’s nails dig into your back when you bite him and his thighs tremble beneath you. “Shiiit the way this is turning you on, don’t want you to be disappointed.”

You sit up, confused. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“It’s been a while and I have no idea if I still can do it.”

“Eddie, listen,” you cradle his face in your hands and smooth your thumbs over his cheekbones. It does the trick to ease the tension from his worried brows but there’s still some flickering in those big brown eyes.

“M’ listening.”

“I won’t be disappointed.”

You realize how hard he’s holding on to you when his vice grip on your left hip vanishes. His hand slides between your thighs, fingers trembling ever so slightly and you can’t but grind down when he presses two firmly against your cunt.

His eyes roll up before they find you again under heavy lids. “You say that now, but you’re soaking my dick through several layers of fabric here, sweetheart—“

You shut him up with a kiss, smiling against his lips as the initial noise of protest turns into an avid sigh. You sneak your fingers into his hair to scratch his scalp with practised finesse and Eddie goes boneless. He’s holding onto the back of your shirt with both fists and just melts into you.

“Better?” you ask drawing back to see his face. His expression is soft, cheeks flushed and he bites his lower lip and nods. “Good. M’ just going to suck you off myself when you can’t do it, no big deal.”

“Hey!” he complains. “That’s not what you called him the last time. Or the time before that. Or— hnng ahh.“

You reached down into his boxers to grab him, sliding your thumb back and forth over the tip. “Silly man.”

“Uh-hnn, but it always pays off.” He closes his eyes, enjoying your lazy strokes for a while before he looks at you again. “So, uh… you want me to try it?”

“You wanna try it now?”

“I’m getting kinda desperate here.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself in a horny hurry. You have a show tomorrow.”

He laughs and places a kiss on your cheek. “I’m not going to force it,” he says and breaks out into a wicked grin. “I heard I’m getting my dick sucked either way.”

You look at each other for a moment, both grinning and giddy. “Alright,” you say and then you both scramble to take your clothes off.

It’s a quick and silly affair with garments flying through the room left and right, with giggles and stolen kisses. Eddie’s hand slips between your legs. Swift fingers part your lips and rub soft circles around your clit. You slump against his shoulder and he laughs darkly.

“Knew I’m not the only one who’s desperate here,” he says and sinks two fingers into you. “You’re going to drown us. Jesus. Let me take care of you first. M’ dying to taste you.”

“Oh!”

Eddie pulls up his brows. “Oh?”

You put your palms on his chest—

“What are you doing?”

— and push him down on his back. “M’ taking a seat,” you say, straddling his hips, hovering.

“O-okay.”

“You said you want to taste me—“ Reaching down, you line up his cock.

“Yeah, but why— what— fuuuck,” he groans as you sink down on him slowly. You shiver and moan with every inch that stretches you gloriously, not taking your eyes off Eddie’s ecstatic face.

“Fuck! So good…” He grits out when you’re fully seated. “I’m so confused.”

Wiggling your hips, you lean down to rub your nose against Eddie’s. “I’m making sure you can taste me—“

“Jesus Christ!”

“Got it?”

Eddie wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. You can feel his stomach tense and his cock twitch inside you. His voice is whiny and when he speaks it sounds like one long word. “Don’t you move or it’s fucking over in two seconds Jesus you’re killing me you are going to be my demise holy fuck.”

“Take a breath, babe.” You chuckle against his neck. “Hmm, you feel so goo—“

“Shut up, demon.”

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Eddie is holding you tight, breath deep and heavy, in an effort to calm himself down. It takes all of your willpower to not stick your tongue out to taste his neck, not to tell him how full and complete you feel with him inside of you. He twitches again and you can’t keep in a moan.

“Oh god,” he laughs, strained and raspy. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

“Shall I dismount?”

“Not yet.”

He kisses your temple, smoothes his hands over your back up and down and up again and he’s warm and now slightly sweaty and he smells like tea tree shampoo and old spice and the incense he keeps in stock just for you but secretly burns when he’s by himself as well.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair.

You lift your head and find the softest of smiles and you have to kiss it and kiss it and kiss it again.

“Love you too, Munson.”

He hums and kisses you once more. “Get off now. Before I’m going to fucking explode.”

“So,” you ask while you slowly lift off of him, “how is this going to work?”

Eddie pats the bed next to him. “Lay down.”

While you settle down next to him on your side with your head propped up on your palm, Eddie pulls his knees to his chest.

“Oh,” you say, a wave of heat rising up in your chest. “You’re getting your cute little ass into the air?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his face to the ceiling. “Gravity helps, okay?”

“I’m not complaining.”

He lifts his knees to gain momentum and swings his hip up into the air. You follow every movement with your eyes. The way his back arches and the skin of his tummy scrunches together in soft wrinkles. His hands move to his back to keep him steady and he takes a moment to find balance.

“You ok?”

“Uh-hm,” he huffs and glances over to you. “Taking it slowly.”

The excitement settles hot in your chest, and you’re breathing faster. You slide your hand down and between your legs, palming your pussy. Eddie picks up on the motion and looks away with a groan, staring at his flushed, swollen cock hanging right above his face, still glistening wet with your slick. He groans again and closes his eyes.

“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” your sigh and press a finger against your clit.

Eddie hums and moves, lowering his hips closer to his face.

“Can I help?”

“Nope,” he pops the p and shakes his head, eyes still closed and lowers his hips again. There’s maybe a hand width left between his face and the tip of his cock. You start circling your clit slowly, moan softly as warmth builds up in your pelvis.

“Feels good?” he asks and the distance shrinks again.

“Really good. The visuals help. You should give it a try.”

He chuckles. “Am I close?”

“Eddie, open your eyes.”

He not only opens his eyes, but stares mesmerized at his erection. “Good news,” he groans and you’re stomach starts fluttering like a swarm of bats.

“Oh god,” you breathe out and speed up your fingers. “You sure?”

He lowers himself again, now so close. “You have a good view? Need to make any adjustments?”

You quickly shuffle around, rest your head lower and put your hand back between your thighs. “I’m good.”

Eddie shifts his eyes over to you and takes a deep breath before he looks back. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles and then he sticks out his tongue and gives the underside of the tip a lick.

“Eddie,” you moan, hips twitching against your fingers as he does it again. “You’re gorgeous, so gorgeous…”

“Shiiit,” he breathes out and lowers his hips a little more, reaching the rim of his tip now. And he gives it a swirl, moaning deeply.

“Feels good?” you ask, trying to mimic with your fingers on your clit what Eddie’s tongue does to his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes out harshly. “I can fucking taste you, t’s driving me insane.”

“Can you give it a kiss for me?”

“Baby,” he whines and shuffles his shoulders, gives himself another lick and then presses his full soft lips against the swollen tip of his cock. “

“You look so good,” you moan and quickly dip a finger into your hole, before you press down firmly on your clit. “Can you make yourself come for me, Eddie?”

“Demon,” he huffs and shuffles again. His hips lift up for a moment. When he lowers them down again you gasp, electricity surging through you as he slowly sucks most of the tip into his mouth. His cheeks hollow slightly and the tip of his tongue pokes out, sliding back and forth over the sensitive skin. You sink your fingers into your clenching cunt and press your palm to your clit, moaning loudly in unison with Eddie.

“God I love your mouth so much, how it makes you feel good—“

“Close—“ he huffs and sucks the whole tip in this time. The way his lips stretch around it, how eagerly his tongue tries to reach as far as it can. You can hear in the noises he makes that he’s almost there. Your hand stills. You’re mesmerized. You don’t want to blink, don’t want to miss one second of this spectacle. Eddie is trembling with strain and lust. It’s obscene.

“Come on, Eddie. Suck that big cock with your pretty mouth for me. Come for me.”

And with a yelp, Eddie comes just like you demanded. His tip slips from his mouth as his back straightens slightly and he digs his hands in to keep steady. His release comes in hard spasms that make his cock twitch and bop and his balls pump his cum all over his face. Eyes shut tight, mouth wide open and panting and he sticks his tongue out to get a taste of himself. You shower him with praises, you’re ecstatic and a little dizzy.

His cock is still twitching when Eddie let’s go and his legs drop back to the mattress. When he tries to open his eyes, they roll up and shut again. His hand comes up and searches for you. You intertwine your fingers with his and he pulls you down.

“Kiss me,” he demands with raspy shallow breaths.

You taste the both of you on his tongue, tangy and salty and sweet and he grins against your mouth when the sensation makes you whimper.

“As good as imagined?” he asks and nibbles on your bottom lip.

“You kidding me? This was so much better. I could cry.”

And sure enough, when he opens his eyes to look at you, he finds your eyes wet with tears. A satisfied grin spreads over his face. He turns to his side and pulls you against his chest. You breathe him in, feel a hum vibrating through his chest.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Oh, I’m spectacular, sweetheart.” He looks down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Blissed out and covered in cum. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

You grunt a laugh. “Did I awaken a monster?”

“Yepp, gonna join the circus now.”

“Bendy bastard,” you chuckle and push yourself up to face him. His eyes are soft and so is his smile. He looks completely spent. You kiss him again, slide your tongue over his lower lip right to the corner and from there up his cheek.

With his eyes closed Eddie clears his throat. “Uh, are you licking my cum from my face?”

You answer with a hum and a lick of your lips when he peeks at you with one eye. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

He throws his head back and groans, then pushes you to your back.

“Wha—“

“Gonna have to fuck you now,” he says like you’re a bit slow and lowers himself between your legs, sinking his teeth into your thigh. “Starting with the feast I was denied earlier. Too bad you can’t reach the table.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #my writing #Eddie Munson smut #my fic

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minhosimthings · 4 months

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Lancey or Lancey

Symphony Smut Series Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey

Lyric: Took her to Paris, she took her panties off

Pairings: Bf!Felix × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, lingerie kink, Frottage, implied use of pheromone, dom!felix, sub!reader, protected sex, reader orgasms like 3 times, fluffy at the end (sorta), smut with plot

A/N: sorry for delaying day 5 everyone! I had to release my Christmas headcannons yesterday so I couldn't really post this. But we are back on track! So enjoy my urge for Felix to buy my lingerie, through this stupid oneshot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

"Felix tell me you're kidding right now."

"Hmm." Your boyfriend put his finger to his temple, pretending to playfully think, "I think.... Nope!"

You could have screamed out loud right there. But instead of damaging your boyfriend's ears, you decided to damage his heart, by filling it with too much love, by hugging him almost to the point of his ribs breaking.

"I love, I love you, and I love you." You kissed every part of his face after every 'i love you'. His freckles, his nose and finally his lips, where you loved to be the most.

"I can't believe we're going to Paris." You slumped back on the bed, not being able to realise that you had Paris tickets clutched in your hands.

"Me neither darling." Felix leaned closer to you, encasing your waist in his arms, his grip sending tingles throughout your body, "Oh and I have a surprise for you."

"Don't tell me you got me lingerie." You rolled your eyes at him playfully, "Lix, for god's sake you already bought me so much crap."

"But this is special, I promise!" Felix scrunched his nose at you, before reaching over and taking out a box from underneath the bed.

"You hid it under my bed for how long exactly?" You raised your brow at his weird hiding spot, "Wait so this is why you were searching for your missing sock under my bed!?"

Felix chuckled, his deep voice pulsating throughout your body like electroshock. "You never clean the underside of your bed, so it became the perfect hiding place."

The box he held in his hands was about the size of a shoebox, completely covered in pink ribbons and lace and whatnot. It was pretty, you had to admit, but you were confused about whether Felix was getting you a box or lingerie.

"Open it princess." Felix nudged the box into your arms, "You'll like it, I promise."

You had often gotten lingerie as gifts from your boyfriend, with all of them almost becoming your daily wear. But he had never gotten you something like this.

"Liz is this-" "A lingerie dress? Yes princess, yes it is."

You stared at felix in awe, before snapping your head back to the white cloth in the box. It was pretty, made up of, what you assumed was white silk, with lace ribbons decorating the neckline perfectly.

"But, but, but, this isn't the surprise."

You looked up at Felix with confusion clouding your eyes, which made him chukle at how adorable you were.

"So the surprise is-" Felix said, in a hyperbole voice, "I get to fuck you in these in Paris."

"That's the surprise?" You scoffed, at how underwhelming it was, "We could fuck-"

"And you get no sex until we get to Paris and you're in this beautiful piece of art."

It was as if you got a slap to your face when you heard Felix's words echo through your mind.

"Lee Felix Yongbok." You glared at him, "Tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Felix leaned back against the bedframe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal his abs, "Let's just say this is payback for making me love no nut November on purpose."

"So what is this then? Death by No Dick December?" You glared at him, as he sealed you tighter in his arms.

"Impatient aren't you?" Felix mumbled into your ear, rubbing his hand against your leggings, "Patience is a good virtue darling."

"Not when your dick is literally rubbing against my pussy."

A week passed and you were finally in the land of romance and love and roses and croissants.

A week with none of your favourite food in your mouth or in your pussy. Felix enjoyed it, the way you were basically on your knees for him, but you weren't a sore loser, so you kept the game up, with the help of your trusty vibrator.

But now, it was the real game.

After you enjoyed some nice croissants by a quaint cafe and petted a lot of stray cats, you headed back to your hotel, side-eyeing Felix all along the way who had not a clue about all the breakdowns you were about to have. Your cunt was itching to the point of destruction, and his dick was the only way of peace.

"Well aren't you gorgeous now?"

The room was more dimly lit than it was when you had entered it, the smell of lavender intoxicating you, courtesy to Felix's new perfume.

"Come 'ere." Felix opened his arms, as you silently walked towards him, the chill breeze from the open window giving you goosebumps. The material of the lingerie was thinner than you had anticipated, basically transparent, but then you reminded yourself that this was what Felix liked the most. And if you obeyed properly like his good princess, he would give you the medicine to your poor cunt.

"Fuck you're like a goddess." Felix's hands traced over your barely clothes thighs, leaving marks with his mouth on your collarbone, making you whimper.

"What do you want princess?" Felix chuckled. Teasing you was always fun, "My cock hmm? Use your big girl words now, come on. We don't wanna disappoint the city of love do we?"

"Ah fuck Lix!" Your voice vibrated off of the walls as felix squeezed the inner walls of your thigh, the desperation of him had been so high that even a tiny squeeze was already getting you wet, "Need your cock please!"

"Good girl."

He chuckles at how needy you sound, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your panties.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your cunt. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Felix lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how the weeks without pussy had been paying off. He was getting better.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

“Lix” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

"Well-" Felix's deep voiced chuckle vibrates throughout your body, "That was fucking good."

"First of all-" you sleepily say, "Fuck you for depriving me of all that good dick for a week." You glare at him, "Second of all, I want more lingerie like this."

"Whatever you say darling." Felix shrugs his shoulders, supporting you a little straighter against his figure, "You know Paris does have really good lingerie."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged the list is open!

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01zfan · 2 months

Text

pray/want | j. sc

bad boy!sungchan x church girl!reader | 9.5k words

back at it again with another installment of my sacrilegious series! hope you guys enjoy heh. loosely based off of it will come back by hozier.

contains: drug mention, hand stuff (f. and m. receiving), biblical references and allusions to mary magdalene

sacrilegious masterlist

you were too forgiving. too merciful. you were raised to think it was a strength. giving extra grace to people who don’t deserve it. forgiving those who took advantage of you.

it was a problem you had since you were a child. you always considered yourself to be empathetic towards others before you even knew what the word meant. if they were mean to you, they must have been having a bad day. if someone took your toys on the playground, they must have wanted it more. if you were pushed, they must be in a hurry. everyone in your life told you this was a strength to have. they presented your patience as if it was a holy virtue, and it was your duty to give it to everyone. your private christian school only further instilled this mindset. meeting everyone where they were often came at your expense, but you didn’t mind. school was an echo chamber of positivity and life was a bubble inside the padded walls of the church.

sungchan was your first introduction to the world outside. he was a new face at mass, round and young just like yours. you remember being confused at the way they scowled at him, how the elders pinched his sides and told him to pay attention to the preacher. he remained unbothered, always picking at the chipping paint on the pews or messing with the flimsy hand fans. you watched as they called sungchan a problem kid and a troublemaker. you think that the words they whispered about sungchan was the first time you were exposed to the harsh reality of people. you watched those words mold sungchan into the very thing they called him. whispers from the elders told you that he was out doing drugs, having sex with women, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. you remember your parents pulling you aside and telling you to not get involved with him, that he would only drag you down.

your empathetic heart couldn’t stop you from extending an olive branch to sungchan. you didn’t see him as the terrible person they claimed him to be. you saw him as a troubled boy with no guidance. he was still so young, the same age as you with baby fat present on his cheeks.

sungchan taught you that your forgiving heart was a character flaw. it was a problem you were developing, not being able to leave him alone. you were like his silent apostle, set on the mission of fixing his tumultuous relationship with the church. you would sit next to him during youth group and answer for him, singing extra loud during hymns incase he didn’t know the words. your voice had gone raw from talking to him constantly. you would talk to him for ages to only get a simple shrug or a one worded reply. it didn’t stop you, only further encouraged you to try and break down his walls.

you came to him in between mass and individual prayer when you saw him sneak out through a door in the kitchen. you found him outside leaning against the church, smoking right below the kitchen window. all someone had to do was look outside and they could see him.

“you know you’re smoking right in front of the window?” you ask him.

sungchan didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. your polite and slightly nagging voice seemed to follow him everywhere. but sungchan found himself looking to you often, loving the shocked look on your face when he’d shrug his shoulders and blow smoke clouds into the air.

“i don’t care.” sungchan says.

his tone had become flatter over the years, losing that playful lift he had when you first met him. his sentences had become deadpanned words and eyes became stone. it didn’t drive you away, it only did the opposite.

you come down the stairs, lifting your sunday dress as you did so. the flowy fabric grazed your ankles, and revealed your cute frilly socks. sungchan watched you let the dress come back down your legs, using the same hand to motion at his cigarette.

“can i try?” you ask.

sungchan has amusement on his lips as he raises his eyebrows at your question. he takes in another drag, turning his head away so he doesn’t blow smoke in your face.

“you smoke?” sungchan asks.

you shrug your shoulders, trying to copy the way sungchan did it. it feels awkward pretending not to care about anything and you’re sure sungchan can tell that your shoulders stayed up for just a moment too long.

“yeah. sometimes.” you lie.

you don’t know why you are lying to sungchan, or why the lie fell so easily from your lips. you were never the type to ever lie, telling the truth no matter what consequence fell upon you. sungchan looks towards the door to the kitchen. someone could come out at any moment and catch you.

sungchan was intrigued by you. he let his eyebrows fall back down his face and looked away from you to knock the ash from the end of his cigarette. he was intrigued how you continue to stay there while all of his attention went to the ash falling from his cigarette, something that came like second nature to him. sungchan let his eyes go to your clear jelly shoes, something he had only seen children wear. he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little laugh seeing you nervously rock back on your heels while he basically ignored you.

once the ash had fallen to the ground sungchan walked over to you. he looked down with a smirk as he moved it to your lips. when you tried to grab it with your own hand sungchan raised it just out of your lips reach. you looked at him and he lightly shook his head.

“the smell will get on you, let me hold it.” sungchan said.

he watched you as you took your first drag from the cigarette. you almost went crosseyed to focus on the butt of the cigarette lighting up. it was fine only for a moment, before your lungs that were only used to pulling in air filled up with smog. your lungs started screaming at you and you could feel your throat burn, but sungchan looking at you expectantly egged you on.

“attagirl.” he said once he decided you were done.

he pulled the cigarette away from you and watched you intently.

you could only hold in the smoke for a second before you started coughing profusely. sungchan gently clapped his hand over your back, your face started to burn along with your throat and lungs, embarrassed at how you couldn’t stop coughing. the heat only intensified when you looked up at sungchan. being so close to sungchan made you realize how angelic he looked. he was like a cherub, with his soft cheeks and unblemished skin. you were wondering how anyone in the church could call someone so pretty such awful. he had a smile on his face while looking at you, biting his lip to not laugh in your face. he distracted you almost to the point your body forgot it had to cough, having to turn away from his face to cough into your fist. right before you could cough, you heard the screen door of the kitchen open.

“what are you two doing?” a woman said.

you recognized the woman from the congregation. she had a hand on her hip and the other clutching a purse just a little too big for her close to her chest. her dresses always matched her purse, and you always found your eyes ruefully drifting to the fraying garment of her apparel.

sungchan looked at you, like he was expecting you to lie to the woman. your heaves had turns into slightly labored breathing, clearing your throat to keep yourself from coughing. he saw your expression and decided to take matters into his own hands. he leaned against the wall of the church to hide his hand. he dropped his cigarette to the ground behind him, putting out the end with his heel. he cleared his throat and you cleared yours again. when sungchan straightened his back you did too.

“praying.” sungchan said sarcastically.

the lady rolled her eyes. you saw her sneak a pack of cigarettes back into her purse and she flicked her head towards the door.

“go back inside. they need help setting the table.” she said.

sungchan puts his hands in his pockets and starts heading towards the door. he is unfazed by the light scolding, something he has gotten used to over the years. you, however felt your heart drop at the thought of disappointing someone older than you. the shame is doubled when the older lady stops you before you go inside.

“you’re a good girl. you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. he’s a bad influence.” she said quietly.

you know sungchan could hear it, because his steps falter for a moment before he continues walking out of sight. you nod in haste, wanting the interaction to be over. the lady closes the door and you watch sungchan go past the kitchen. he continues to walk down the hallway of the church, far away from everyone else.

the lady’s warning set the dynamic for your relationship with sungchan. it didn’t stop you from seeing him, it could be argued it made you want to hang out with him more. you had become his goody-two-shoes sidekick, tagging along to his adventures and indulging yourself in his lifestyle.

you had your first drink with sungchan. you remember taking the shot, the clear liquid stinging the back of your throat and making your stomach warm. it had become more enticing to you than the blood of christ that touched your lips during communion. the cheers of your name from the unfamiliar faces around you tempted you to take another.

when your hand reached for the bottom sungchan places his hand over yours. you looked up to sungchan and found the same look on his face of when you took your first drag of the cigarette. you didn’t know a look could be so powerful, giving you the courage to do things you would’ve never done in a thousand years.

you watched sungchan’s friend get a tattoo the same day you got your first piercing in the bathroom. sungchan leaned over the sink to inspect your ear, marking the perfect place. you could feel his hot breath fan your neck as he prepped your ear for the puncture.

“you’re parents might be upset.” sungchan said.

he pulled away from your ear to look at you. he was giving you the chance to back out, to refuse the piercing. but it was that look he gave you that had you shrugging your shoulders—it was starting to come to you naturally.

“i don’t care.” you said.

the truth was you did care, but you cared more about the man dangerously close to you. your parents were the furthest thing from your mind as sungchan went back to looking at your ear, sticking a needle through your lobe. the sound you made caught both you and sungchan by surprise. you bit your lip when he did the other ear, not trying to make that sound in front of him again. your teeth nearly drew blood from your lip when sungchan moved backwards to inspect you, making sure the punctures were even.

when sungchan turned you around in the mirror he stood behind you as you checked out the new jewelry. you turned your head, trying to take it all in. you looked to your ears then sungchan, standing behind you with his hand on your shoulders.

“it’s pretty.” you said.

sungchan looked into the mirror to look into your eyes.

“yes. very pretty.” sungchan said.

just when you thought you had sungchan, he disappeared. it was like he was a ghost or a figment of your imagination. one day he was sitting next to you in the pews and the next day he wasn’t. he stopped coming to church, his parents stopped coming too. rumors spread that he had runaway after a particularly bad argument with his parents. the fact that his parents were too ashamed to come back made you assume they did something awful the church didn’t want to admit.

sungchan was even harder to get in contact with. each time you had hung out with him he came and found you. when you wanted to reach him, you realized you had no way to do so.

not being able to see him led to your imagination running wild. everyday you would go outside to the kitchen window where he would smoke, looking out into the forest that surrounded your church. your mind had helplessly come up with a scenario each time you’d walk down the steps. your mind conjured up the image of sungchan hiding in the trees, scared to be seen by anyone else but you. after seeing sungchan you’d stop in your tracks, so surprised to see him standing there. you had practiced your facial expressions, letting your eyebrows raise and your eyes get large. you saw yourself mindlessly walking over to him when he’d beckon to you. you imagined that he would bring you in for a kiss, a type of kiss that would make up for the months of all the yearning and pining.

then afterwards you imagined that sungchan would tell you how much he missed you, not being able to find god at the parties of the bottom of shot glasses. you’d then walk him back to the church and have the congregation apologize for pushing his soul to stray even further away from the path of god. you wondered about a christian wedding, going full traditional. having kids that were baptized for everyone to see. everything about you two would be by the holy book, except for sex. you don’t think you could wait that long.

your manifestation of sungchan coming to you didn’t come to fruition. you didn’t see sungchan until months later as you were leaving choir practice. the expression you had practiced didn’t pan out the way you wanted to. your binder fell from your hands, sheet music falling onto the rocky parking lot.

sungchan came over to help you quickly, catching papers before they could run away in the wind. you had bent down to take the music from him, but you were frozen, stuck in place looking at sungchan. he didn’t say a word to you until your papers were safely tucked away again in your binder, closing it and putting it back in your hands. he looked to you and you couldn’t believe your eyes. your feet were stuck to the ground keeping you both in the squat position.

“hi.” sungchan said quietly.

you nodded you head and cleared your throat. you hung onto your binder, the only thing keeping you present.

“where have you been?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

you had a white knuckle grip on your flimsy plastic binder. you don’t know why you were so nervous to ask sungchan a question. in his absence he had become someone you didn’t want to doubt, scared that he would leave you again.

sungchan’s face flashes for a moment before he stands up. he dusts himself off, metaphorically wiping your question off of him. he holds out his hand for you and you grab it, surprised at how clammy his hand is on yours.

once you’re up you still stare at him like he’s a ghost.

“can i take you somewhere?” sungchan asks.

it was dangerous to have sungchan in your life. you found yourself nodding quickly to every question he had, you think you would leave the church the same way he did if he held your hand while you walked out. seeing sungchan smile outside of the church made you wonder what life was like outside of it. maybe it was nice and you would be happier than you were here. so you nodded as he led you to the motorcycle that looked similar to his fathers.

he helped you to the back and took a helmet out of the side compartment. he coaxed your musical binder from your hands to put it in there, tightening the leather strap to keep it safe. you were nearly shaking with anxiety as sungchan put on his helmet too, throwing his leg over to straddle the seat.

the engine revved underneath you, and your hands that were previously gripping your binder were now clenched at your sides. you waited for sungchan to reach behind him and guide your hands to clasp around his waist.

“hold on tight.” sungchan said as he pushed away the kickstand.

your words were drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle leaving the parking lot. you held onto him, letting your head rest against his back as he hit the throttle. you thought that the road sungchan was taking you down at an unbelievable speed could be comparable to your life. the fear that came with your future turned to excitement when sungchan turned around and looked at you, asking if you were having fun. everything that was scary seemed fun when you had your arms around sungchan’s waist, even the idea of getting into an accident on the motorcycle turned into a thrill for you. it was the same thrill that sungchan always seemed to give you. it was one that only subsided when you used the same hand that signed the cross on yourself underneath the sheets. you pressed your hands flat against his stomach, feeling how solid he was through his shirt. sungchan’s back vibrated against your head from laughing.

sungchan didn’t move your hands until the motorcycle was parked. your eyes didn’t open until the engine stopped roaring and sungchan gently touched you to let you know you had both arrived. you don’t know how long your eyes were squeezed shut to get here. you opened your eyes to sungchan standing in front of you, helping you out of your helmet. this was somehow more intimate than having your arms wrapped around his waist as you two plummeted down the highway. you had to look away for your own good, focusing on the concert venue that had a steady stream of people going in. you saw people dressed like sungchan going in, various crowds of people were around the concert hall smoking while others tipped their heads back and wiped their noses.

“have you ever listened to music that wasn’t religious?” sungchan said.

he had leaned against his motorcycle as you took in the view around you. it felt like you were dropped in a different dimension or alternate reality from your own. you had no idea that people like this existed so close to your modest township. it was all so foreign to you that you couldn’t even find the words to describe the aesthetic. the words came and went, trying to define ripped skinny jeans and people cursing freely. what this had to do with music was beyond you, but before you could answer sungchan’s question you saw him turn his head towards someone in the moving mass of people.

“sungchan! you’re fucking late!”

you followed the voice until it landed on someone dressed similarly to sungchan. black leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, with hair that was so black it shined underneath the street lamps. he looked younger than you and sungchan, he had an innocent look about him that betrayed the clothes he was sporting. the only thing you had in common with the person in front of you was the same beat up shoes you both everyday. you felt nervous and out of place, like you didn’t belong here.

“who is this?” the boy said.

he seemed to know you didn’t belong here either, his voice significantly lower than when he called to his friend. the boys gaze went back to sungchan after giving you a once over. you did the same, looking to sungchan like you didn’t know who you were.

“this is,” sungchan looked like he was contemplating for a moment. a hand that was supporting his body against his motorcycle pointed towards you. “my friend from church.” sungchan said.

anton’s eyes got big for a moment, head slightly tilting in confusion. it was almost like a lightbulb went off anton’s his head a second later. anton turned to you, his face suddenly neutral.

“oh. nice to meet you. i’m anton.”

he didn’t offer his hand out to you, they stayed stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. he nodded his head and you did your best to copy him. it felt just like when you started shrugging your shoulders to copy sungchan. anton took his phone from his back pocket and showed the time to sungchan. it was about to be your curfew.

“wonbin is about to be on soon.” anton said.

“let’s go then.” sungchan said.

sungchan pushed himself off his bike and started following the crowd heading towards the building. you followed behind the two men, not really having anywhere else to go. you couldn’t help but stare at every face you passed by, wondering where all these kids your age had come from.

the only indication that showed you were in your town still was that the building had the same look as everything else in your town. there was a certain archaic and abandoned look to the building on the exterior. the brick had cracks the painting was chipped, and vegetation grew along the edges. the closer you, sungchan, and anton got to the building you could make out the faded sign of what the building once was. it was a factory who knows how long ago, and judging by the size business was booming at one point. now it was honing beacon for all the rebels in your town, young adults that were the same age as you but looked wiser and seemed significantly more mature. you had always been proud of your innocence when it came to life, but your lack of experience weighed down on you heavy as you looked past the large doors into the unknown.

you saw two burly men guarding the entrance dressed in all black with shades on even though it was nighttime. both of their eyes immediately went to you, and you felt even more out of place than before. sungchan followed their eyes to see what they were looking at. he grabbed your hand and you grabbed it back, trying to seem as casual as possible. sungchan visibly straightened his shoulders a little more, his hand settling on something in his back pocket. you saw anton show his ID to the other bouncer while sungchan’s hand led you to the other one. the bouncer held out his hand but before he could ask for your ID, sungchan smiled big at him.

“she’s with me.” sungchan said cheerfully.

“still need to see ID.” he said.

you see sungchan pull whatever it was from his back pocket and hand it to the bouncer. it’s something small, but sungchan’s body blocks your line of sight to see exactly what it is. the bouncer gives you one last look and you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your feet. you’re sure it is painfully obvious you shouldn’t be here. the bouncer takes mercy on you for some reason and nods his head. sungchan pulls you by your hand to drag you inside. the bouncer only continues to look at you for a second before tending to the next person in line.

the inside of the venue was completely opposite of the outside. if the outside was worn down the interior looked like it was recently experienced a complete rebirth. the ground you thought would be cracked concrete was reworked hardwood. the mass of people coming in walked towards a medium sized stage, where a curtain was drawn hiding who was behind it. this was what you imagined to be a concert venue now, equipped with stands on both sides for extra people. you didn’t know something like this existed in your town. you stopped for a moment and anton looked back at you smiling.

“first time?” anton asked.

sungchan looked between you and anton with an apprehensive look. you almost felt like you shouldn’t talk to him before you nodded your head yes.

“this is like sunday mass but for a different type of congregation.” anton said.

you don’t know anton said it to poke fun at you, the smile on his lips fading when he looked at sungchan. but it made complete sense. everyone looked the same, dressed in attire for the occasion the same way you dressed every sunday morning. anton and sungchan bobbed and weaved through the crowd, sungchan leading you through the mass of people until you ended up on the side. anton said something to the security guard, leaning in close before turning around and pointing at you and sungchan. the security guard faltered for a moment before stepping back and pulling open the safety gate. the three of you walked through and made it on the other side of the curtain to a smaller room.

immediately when you walk in the something musty and pungent fills your nose. it’s strong and almost skunky. you look to anton and sungchan—they are unfazed. you don’t comment on the overwhelming smell, or the smoke that filled the small room.

you only remember being in the room for ten minutes before your perception of time changed. one moment you just suddenly felt yourself looking to the clock every ten minutes to see that only two had passed. you sat on the couch while sungchan navigated the whole room. they listened to every word and the way they followed him around made you think of disciples. it made you giggle, you smiling into your hand when sungchan came to you on the couch.

“what’s so funny?” sungchan asked.

he had a smile of his own now, and his eyes were low and bleary. when you forgot the answer you just kept smiling. sungchan smiled back at you. you were giggling while sungchan when sungchan told his friend to break a leg, and you were giggling when sungchan grabbed you hand and took you to the bathrooms. you laughed at how piss covered the floors and how there was no toilet paper or soap in the dispensers. you were nearly in tears when sungchan started stuffing pieces of toilet paper into your ears as makeshift ear plugs. he was laughing too, quelling your worries that the toilet paper would get stuck in your ears.

whatever you felt had died down by the time the show started, the loud music pulling you from your trance. the music thumped in your chest, you had to hold a hand to your heart to make sure it was still beating. sungchan seemed unbothered by being so close to the speakers though. he was cheering and singing along with his friend on stage. sungchan smiled more than you had ever seen him do so in church, and he knew all the words unlike the latin hymns he mouthed unsuccessfully during service.

everyone sang along to the lyrics except for you, bodies bumped into yours and everyone was pushing. if it wasn’t for sungchan behind you, you were sure you would’ve been swallowed up into the crowd. the music was nothing like what you were used to, but you tried to enjoy it anyway. it was different to see what rebels your age were doing while you were busy knowing nothing about life beyond your oratory.

the music blared from the stage, the bass made the floor underneath your feet shake. it went right through the soles of your shoes and travelled up from the balls of your feet. the bass went all the way to your head, shaking the individual hairs and rattling your skull. it was like all your senses were being taken away from you and replaced solely with the music that played onstage.

you could barely make out anything from the strobing lights, as fast as you were granted vision it was ripped away. the flashing lights contributed to the energy of the people surrounded you, like a ticking time bomb as gasoline filled all the way to the ceiling. everyone’s restless bodies started colliding when the music intensified. you don’t know if people started forgetting there were bodies around them as the music got louder and louder. it was the same way it was at sunday service. you saw people be overcome with emotion as they pushed to the music. they were swayed by the band on stage the same way your congregation was swayed by the priest. but just like there and just like now, the only thing that swayed you was sungchan. the only difference was that in church you could only dream about how close he was to you now. his hands rested on your hips as he guarded your body from the people moving around you. you felt his wet lips place a kiss to your neck, so soft and gentle unlike the harsh music that played onstage and the hectic crowd of people that surrounded you.

sungchan’s wet lips pressed to your skin. you could feel the heat coming off his body in waves, and you were sweating on your own. the air seemed to vibrate as sungchan worked his way up to your ear before kissing the shell and leaning further in. you could feel his chest come close to your back as he whispered in your ear.

“i missed you.” sungchan said against your neck.

you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear what sungchan said to you. his voice had intent, but it was supposed to be drowned out by the riffing guitar onstage and the bass that vibrated the speakers next to you. but when sungchan spoke to you, it cut through all the noise. it made the pulsing bodies surrounding you disappear. suddenly it was just you and sungchan in the venue--maybe in the whole world.

you knew that whatever you said would be lost over the sound of the music. you just tilted your head until it rested on sungchan’s and nodded, to make sure he knew you felt the same way.

you knew sungchan understood when his hands on your hip dug into the your church dress. the fabric stood no chance against his grip, it was almost like there wwas nothing there at all as sungchan held you tight.

“i want you.” he said into your ear.

you smiled as you looked ahead to the stage. want was so juvenile to you. you learned about want and have felt want for so long that it came to you like breathing. the want you were taught about in church was subject to god’s will. what you felt for sungchan couldn’t be contingent on anyone, not even if they were all knowing.

what you needed couldn’t be defined as something so simple as want. it was defined as a burning desire and something you pretended wasn’t a necessity until now. the same way you taught sungchan about the bible you planned to teach him about something else. so while you were shoulder to shoulder with sweaty pushing strangers you turned around to face him. sungchan was still leaned over to kiss your neck when you put both hands to his face to pull him in. he kissed you with want but you kissed him back with necessity. it was carnal the way you took his bottom lip into your mouth and the way the bass in your moan rang in both of your mouths. you only took a hand away from sungchan’s face to push his hands lower on your body. he gripped your ass as you deepened the kiss. you kissed sungchan so eagerly that his face was being pushed back as he tried to reciprocate.

when the song ended you pulled away first. sungchan was in the same place you left him, with his eyes closed and head tilted. his lips were red and swollen. want couldn’t compare to what you felt. you could fill this warehouse to the ceiling with want. what you felt for the man before you was something that could only be expressed underneath the sanctified sheets of your bed.

“my parents are asleep around this time. they don’t get up till afternoon service.” you said.

you said it at normal volume, still thinking it was just you and sungchan. the lights around you barely illuminated your face as your faced sungchan. your voice was lost in the screaming crowd, and sungchan could hardly make out the words your lips mouthed. so he looked into your eyes, he let them guide his next actions as he nodded his head. sungchan looked down to see your hand and your gaze fix on the exit.

the show was over when sungchan grabbed your hand and led you to the exit. it was sungchan who was pushing concertgoers now, bumping into people without care if they were in the way. you trailed behind him, bumping into people as a result of it. you apologized to who you could, but someone giving you a hard look was the least of your worries. you would repent for being impatient later.

you and sungchan beat the crowd leaving the venue. he didn’t bother to look for his friend or to say goodbye. sungchan was only focused on making sure his spare motorcycle helmet was secure on your head before kicking his bike off the ground.

you held onto sungchan’s waist as you sped down the highway towards your home. you took the risk to let go of him when he hit the highway. he slowed down on the empty road to let you spread your arms out. you felt the wind around you, and you hoped it would carry away the smell of cigarettes and skunk that stuck to your clothes. sungchan still knew the way, and he knew to park his motorcycle on the side of the road instead of pulling up to the driveway.

you looked to sungchan one last time before opening the door to your home. he was on his own path that deviated from the church a long time ago. you weren’t sure what he was doing besides enjoying music and doing drugs, but it didn’t matter. him being outside of the church as you were leaving had to be something like divine intervention.

it was that intervention that led sungchan down your creaky hallway, sneaking past your parents that were sleeping on the couch. with a finger to your lips sungchan found himself following someone else’s orders for the first time in awhile, taking the same steps as you to be as quiet as possible.

sungchan walked down your hallway that was adorned with crosses and decorations of angels. he was sure he saw the statue of jesus on the top of a table, and a painting of his birth was stuck to the wall. sungchan let you pass by him so you could slowly open the door of your bedroom. he looked down the hallway to see the glow from the television casted on the wall. he heard the low sound of a late night televangelist before hearing your voice.

“sungchan.”

you called to him gently from the depth of your room. he couldn’t see from his spot in the shadow of your hallway, so his feet carried him until he was beside your doorframe.

sungchan saw you sitting on the center of your bed. you were still in your dress, but sungchan felt like you were laying yourself bare before him. he was frozen in place underneath the rosary that draped your doorframe. he was compelled to do the sign of the cross over his body, but nothing could make him move. it wasn’t until you beckoned to him that sungchan took a deep breath before taking a step into your room.

sungchan said nothing about the religious paraphernalia in your room. suddenly the crosses you had collected over the course of your life was humiliating as sungchan looked at every single one of them. you motioned for him to turn off the lights as he closed the door behind him, but the miniature figure of christ you had on your desk could still be seen in the dead of night. sungchan almost felt like something terrible would happen to him if he mentioned it, like getting struck by lightning or your parents suddenly coming into your room.

the only thing that kept sungchan calm was looking at you. you felt unrest seeing sungchan stand still in your doorway. he must’ve still feared something judging him by the way he looked at you. you patted the space on the bed beside you, adjusting yourself on your knees to seem as welcoming as possible.

sungchan sat on the bed next to you, his legs leaning over the side of the bed. he was ready to get up and leave at any moment. you’re body head to toe is tingling with excitement, and you want to remind sungchan about the want he told you about earlier. you turn your back to him and reveal the zipper down the back of your dress.

“can you help me?” you ask.

sungchan says nothing, but you can feel the pads of his fingers hold the fabric surrounding your zipper in place while he brings the other hand to the zipper itself. you can feel the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your neck that the dress doesn’t cover. you shake as your hear the metal teeth open down your back, and the cold skin of your room touches your skin.

when the zipper is all the way down, sungchan brings his hand to your two shoulders. he slowly helps your arms out of the sleeves, and you let it fall off your body. you can hear him exhale and feel his breath fan the skin of your back. sungchan brings hesitant fingers to the clasp of your bra. you can hear him behind you shuffle to move his body further on the bed.

“can i?” sungchan whispers.

you swallow and nod your head.

“yes.” you say quietly.

sungchan misses the clasp on the first try, and it catches you off guard when your chest suddenly feels free after his second attempt. he helps you out of the bra the same way he did with your dress. you let it fall off your body, falling on top of the pile your dress made.

you stretch the curve or your back. sungchan only looks at your shoulder blades, too nervous to move any further. you lift the top of your dress from the bed and press it to your bare chest. you look behind your shoulder to look at sungchan. his eyes break from your shoulders to your eyes, and then to your lips. sungchan watches you as you move backwards onto the bed, giving him space to move in front of you.

the two of you sit in the silence of your room, looking to eachother. you can hear the sound of the wind blowing outside, and the sound of a loud commercial break on the television in the living room. you move underneath the loose fabric of your dress and bring your legs closer to your body. sungchan shifts too, and you can see his hand reach out before he brings it back to his body. he lets his finger press into the duvet on your bed as you clear your throat.

“do you still want me?” you ask.

sungchan nods his head and moves forward towards you. he still hesitates, not letting his hand that’s on your calf go up any higher.

“i want you so bad. you don’t understand.” sungchan said.

you hated that you understood what sungchan meant all too well. you could sit here and debate the logistics with him, how you could teach him what it feels like to truly yearn something like the way you yearned for him. you wanted to show sungchan about passion that went beyond want, and you longed to drive him so crazy that he would feel the same burning desire you felt when you didn’t see him for all that time. so you grab sungchan’s hand and guide it to the dress you had let go of. it rested on your body like covers, ready to be taken off if sungchan was willing. he looked to you and you nodded your head as he held your dress.

sungchan pulled the dress away from you slowly, revealing more and more of you to him. you gasped as you felt his eyes on you. by the time sungchan takes your dress fully off, you are only left in your cross pendant and underwear. sungchan is entranced, eyes dragging down your whole body. he lifts your legs to help pull the dress off all the way. sungchan gently drops your clothes over the edge of your bed. you point at sungchan’s shirt, and he takes off his shirt and pants too.

you are both left in your underwear underneath the plethora of crosses on your wall. the bible is next to your bed on the table with a rosary piled neatly on top. it’s ignored when you sit on your bed and spread your bent legs slightly. sungchans hand starts from your feet, tracing up your leg slowly until he reaches your knee. his fingers come down your leg as he slots his body in between them.

his fingers don’t stop until he thumbs the cross pendant on your necklace.

“sign of the cross.” sungchan says quietly.

you settle further into your bed, and spread your legs further.

“do you remember how to do it?” you ask

sungchan nods before bringing three fingers from his right hand to your bare body. he touched your forehead, then dragged his fingers down the valley of your chest to your solar plexus. sungchan touched both of your shoulders, using your collarbone as a guide. you let out a breath sigh of amen, but sungchan didn’t do the same. he brought his hand back to your stomach, going lower and lower on your body. he looked at you for permission, and you nodded and spread your legs further.

you felt the carnal desire that evolved from want fill your room to the brim as sungchan let his fingers go underneath the waistband of your panties. he teased you only for a second, the pads of his fingers bumping your clit before his fingers went further down your folds. you gasped when sungchan finally put his fingers inside of you. he kept his fingers still for a moment inside of you, waiting for you to adjust and move first. you wasted no time pulling your hips back to bring them forward again as you used sungchan’s fingers to pleasure yourself.

he brought his other hand to your lower stomach, feeling the supple skin of your stomach.

“i’m so bad for you, you know.” sungchan said.

his actions differed from his words. the way he had his fingers on you made you feel so good, and the high you felt from the drugs in your system and the rush from the night made you want to continue chasing that feeling. so you ignore sungchan’s indirect warnings and continued to push your hips to meet his fingers.

“i can save you.” you whimper quietly.

sungchan looked from your hips to your eyes. he looked deep into you but you didn’t shy away. you continued to push your hips to feel his fingers go inside of you deeper. you didn’t break eye contact until sungchan bent his fingers and hit a spot you didn’t know existed. you bit your lip and tilted your head back. your whole body leaned, forcing you to prop yourself up on your outstretched hands behind you.

sungchan moved from his spot on the bed to get closer you. he hovered over your body, his hand on top of yours as his other hand continued to pump in and out of your body. you looked up at sungchan, spreading your legs further as sungchan took over. he let you rest as he started doing all the work. he wanted it to be fast, seeing your chest jump as his finger started pistoning into you. you brought your hand that was free to hold sungchan’s bicep. he still held your gaze, nodding as you let quiet moans fall from your lips. your eyes closed in bliss—you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth.

“oh my god.” you sighed.

“i know.” sungchan whispered back.

sungchan kept going, even through the pain of you digging your nails into his skin. he kept going even when you fell to your back and closed your thighs around his hand. sungchan didn’t stop until you cried out his name from your pillow and slick want came from you. you clamped around his fingers and sungchan scissored them inside of you, trying to give you all you could take. he didn’t stop until your legs slid down your bed and you used a weak hand to pull his fingers out of you.

sungchan watched you bring your hand to your chest as you stared at the ceiling. sungchan laid on the bed next to you and placed a hand next to yours. he could feel your heart pounding in its cage. he brought a hand to his heart and he could feel it beat with the same urgency.

you let yourself relax next to sungchan. you let your hand go down his body. you do the same thing sungchan did to your body, your three fingers grazing across his body before going underneath the waistband of his boxers. you look up and kiss sungchan’s forehead as you wrap your hand around his length. it’s heavy and twitches in your hand as you slowly stroke him.

his usual demeanor crumbles almost instantly, he is the vulnerable one underneath your touch. he pushes his body further up until he is resting against the headboard of your bed and you follow him. you face sungchan as you continue pumping his length, and his hands dig into your sheets. you come closer to his lips to kiss him again, trying to swallow the tiny sighs he lets out. sungchan gives you the reins and you let desire take control of your actions. desire makes you pull down sungchan’s waistband and it makes you put your tongue into his mouth. sungchan pulls his underwear off the rest of the way and you take a peak at his length. in the darkness of your room the moonlight comes in perfectly, giving you just enough sight. you can see your hand glisten in the light as it goes up and down sungchan’s dick. it’s a soft wet sound, only magnified by the quiet of the night.

sungchan grips your hand and tightens it around his length. he starts lifting his hips to fuck himself up into your hand and you watch his body work to bring himself pleasure. you can see the sweat form on his taut skin, and his hair starts to stick to his forehead from the exertion. sungchan can barely bring himself to look at you as he chases his own pleasure. you force him to make eye contact when you move his bangs from his face and lift his gaze with fingers underneath his chin. the pace he set with his thrusts falter for a second when he looks into your eyes. you help him by bringing your hand down faster and tighten the grip of your hand. you can feel sungchan’s hand clasp around yours further, and how his thighs start to shake from the work of thrusting.

that’s what separates you and sungchan. his want drives him to hastily fuck your hand, trying to reach a high that only came to him hours ago. what you needed has had time to ferment. it started as want—you wanted sungchan to come to church. you wanted him to find his path. you wanted him to kiss you. but it had time to brew in your stomach over the time time you didn’t see him and when your mind was forced to fill in the gaps. it was like a wound, festering on your skin and reopened anytime sungchan came into your orbit. he knew nothing about yearning or craving something the way you did. but you kept pumping your hand for him, because you wanted to keep him coming back for more. you wanted to become a wound on his skin and burn the fleeting touches into his brain. you were going to become something sungchan longed for, and maybe over that time your own craving would subside. sungchan would need you and you would be able to use a word as weak as want to describe how you feel about him.

when sungchan’s hand go back into your panties, your hand faltered. you looked to sungchan bewildered, but he only looked back at you with blown out eyes. his eyes consumed you while his bitten lips drew you in again. maybe sungchan already felt the same as you, he was just better at hiding it. maybe the plan you had for sungchan would end up destroying the both of you. you didn’t care as you helplessly rutted into his fingers. if desire killed you before it subsided to want you would be okay with it. if you were to die at the hands of something that felt so good, you would welcome it with open arms.

you brought your mouth away from sungchan’s to go to his neck. you suck and bit at his skin, and he brought a hand to your back to bring you closer. you were kneeling beside his body, praying into the skin of sungchan’s neck as he whimpered next to you. in the comfort of your bed kneeling wasn’t painful. you wondered why you spent so much of your life kneeling for forgiveness on the rough ground of the outside world or the padded walls of your church. you wasted your time kneeling to anything but pleasure.

your revelation hits you the same time it hits sungchan. he thrusts into your hand once more before staying there. he whined quietly as his hand presses deeper into your back and inside of you. you can feel his dick twitch and warmth covers his hand and yours in spurts. you continue to pump his dick as he becomes a mess underneath you and you grind your hips on his hand so you can feel your own revelation again. your body turns to jello for the second time of the night as you lean your entire body weight against sungchan’s chest. you can’t stop letting your sounds increase in volume as you lean further into sungchan’s chest. you let your sounds out into his clammy skin as he continues to finger you. you have to take your hand from his dick and pull his hand out so you can calm down.

“i’m sorry.” sungchan says.

he wraps both arms around you and brings you weak body in for a hug. you only shake your head, trying to form a coherent thought.

”it’s okay.” you whine.

after you come back from heaven, you realize exhaustion is starting to weigh down on your body. you’ve had a busy day, the adrenaline high crashes down on you fast. you end up drifting to sleep still leaned against sungchan’s body, but he is left wide awake. he only says your name once, slightly shaking your body to see if you will come to. you don’t wake up, and sungchan uses what’s left of his energy to slide down from the headboard so you’re both laying on the bed. sungchan feels the mess he made over his hands and stomach. he believes that he doesn’t have a home here, or the right to lay in your bed. so he gently moves your sleeping body, pulling your hand wrapped around his waist and turning you so you lay on the pillow. your body instantly adapts, pulling in a blanket to hold it the same way you were holding him.

sungchan gets up from your bed and starts putting his clothes back on. it’s slow and hesitant—he does everything in his power to keep you asleep. sungchan starts walking towards your door with his jacket and belt in hand when he hears shuffling on your bed.

“do you need a place to sleep tonight?” you whisper sleepily.

sungchan froze before he could turn the handle. he looked back at you, seeing your state and he nodded solemnly. you thought even in the dark of night you could see his crestfallen face, or maybe it was waves that radiated off of him in droves. you thought for the night he wouldn’t be alone as you lifted up the corner of your sheets, showing an empty spot just for him. sungchan came from your doorway to your bed, setting his jacket on the back of your chair and taking off his jeans. in just his boxers and shirt he crawled underneath the covers. he held open his arms, showing he had a spot for you too. you nestled into him without hesitation, tucking your head underneath his chin.

“i would give you anything you need.” you whispered into sungchan’s chest.

his arms around your body wrapped around you more, pulling you closer. you had almost wished he had drifted off to sleep. you wanted to whisper into his chest that he could come to you like a stray cat, wounded and hungry and you’d take him in each time. you wanted to tell him that you didn’t care if you were too forgiving or too naive. you wanted to be there for him like a saint if it meant you could continue to receive his offerings. if you enabled him until there was nothing left you would savor each moment you had with him. if you ended up saving sungchan you would make a future with him.

sungchan knew that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of you even if he tried. something about you entranced him and had him wanting to come back. maybe it was the way you prayed with the same hands you used to undress yourself backstage. he imagined nights in the near future of him sitting on the edge of your bed while you gave him a show. maybe it was a trauma response. sungchan knew that the life he was living would drain him emotionally and physically. if he were to appear on your doorstep in the dead of the night after a show or a bender he knew your forgiving heart would let him in. he knew you couldn’t bare to see someone else in pain, especially if it was him.

you both knew the dynamic you two were actively changing all night was going to become volatile later down the line. you would end up taking mercy on sungchan’s self-destructive lifestyle in exchange for the freedom he brought you, while sungchan would use you to recuperate before going out and destroying himself some more. you would try to change him under the guise of showing him “the light” and he would corrupt you under the guise of showing you life outside the church. who needed who more would only become blurred and several lines would be crossed. you both knew you were trapping yourselves in a vicious cycle, one that you would probably go through on your own to keep it a secret from the church and your family.

it didn’t matter when sungchan sighed contently and kissed your forehead. his lips were soft against your skin, it brought you the same comfort the church used to bring you. so you sighed from the comfort and settled further in your tomb, underneath the six layers of your clothes and blankets. your body was still cold, the only thing that brought warmth was sungchan’s body. it made you feel like you were alive, like you would be reborn when you emerged from the covers in the morning.

“you know i’ll be back.” sungchan said clearly.

when you woke up the next morning, sungchan had dug himself out from under the blankets. he had risen revived from your forgiveness while you were left alone in the grave.

#01zfan: sungchan #seriez: sacrilegious #sungchan smut #riize smut

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aimeelouart · 2 years

Text

No thumbnails today again, only Cloud in yet another of the outfits I am eagerly awaiting

It has pockets :D

#aimeelouart #doodle #cloud in my dresses: the series #my art

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writingoddess1125 · 5 months

Note

Yes Buggy and his hot wife are Roger and Jessica Rabbit, but if I may submit this comparison to the council:

✨Buggy and his wife are The Grinch and Martha May Whovier✨

Oh It Is ON!

In the spirit of the Winter Holiday Spirits! We are doing a Christmas Spin on My Effect Series!

So get you a egg nog with 90% rum maybe some holiday 'cigarettes' sit back and enjoy this clusterfuck idea! 🍃 🚬

P.S IM REALLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO ITS PROBABLY ALL OVER THE PLACE! ENJOY!

The Grinch and Martha May Effect 🎄

If you like my shit, support me on Ko-Fi because recession!

Link to Main Masterlist

• This Crusty Bastard has had the heart of the most beautiful women in the world.

• And didn't even realize it-

• You had all met on Gol D Roger's ship- Buggy being a snot nosed apprentice with his gaggle of friends- While you being one of the few girls on the ship was a cup bearer for your father. Silvers Rayleigh.

• This made you incredibly off limits to all, Sheltered by a life of luxury your father provided as your only real 'job' was to fill his cup. Even Gol D Roger the famed Captian spoiled you in cute dresses and expensive bows.

• Turning you into the Doll of the Oro Jackson.

• A Princess Wrapped in Silver and Gold

• You still remembered the first day you ment him-

• Both of you 13 years old, fresh faced kids still needing the guidance of adults.

• You'd snuck off from your normal areas, wanting to explore the ship some more. That's till you saw a boy- His face covered in what seemed to be gunpowder as he filled homemade bombs with total care.

• His blue hair peaking out of the red hat and drawing you to step a big closer to get a better look.

• The Tull of your sparkling dress catching the corner of his eye as he spun around quickly holding a knife out.

• Then, Ocean eyes met Your own and time seemed to slow. Ever so slightly- Your cheeks warming as you gave a soft smile.

• "Hello" Your little voice slipped out, Buggy stating at you with unsure interest. A crooked smile on his lips as he greeting you quickly- "H-Hi!"

• "Is something wrong with your nose? It looks kinda funny" Buggy glares hard at you, making you blink in question at his reaction.

• Buggy covering his face, his ocean eyes starting to cloud with tears like a storm eyed he stared at you. "Whats so funny about my nose!? Huh!"

• "Well don't get angry- I don't mind. I think its cute. Im sorry if i offended you" You smile so sweetly, feeling bad for making his sad as Buggy felt his face start to glow.

• "You think.. My nose is cute?" He questioned, making you nod honestly. He giggled into his hands, a high pitch squeaky laugh that made you smile and your heart flutter.

• "Whats your name?" He grins at you, Hearing you actually want to know about him. "Buggy! What about you pretty girl?" Your face flushing at his words.

• "I'm-"

• "(Y/N)!" You heard your name being called before you could speak, recognizing the voice of your father.

• "(Y/N)- That's such a pretty name.. Will I see you again?" Buggy asked, his eyes sparking at such a chance. Your delicate hand reaching forward and tucking a strand of his blue hair back into his hat. "I will try"

• And try you did. For a year the two of you would meet, talking on the deck of the ship for hours till you had to sneak away again. Buggy even using his Chop Chop abilities to help you get back to your room.

• It was tragic to say, but you'd never get a chance to see Buggy for many many years after your 14th birthday- Your Father sending you to an Island to keep you safe as you entered your teens.

• The disbanding of the Roger Pirates aiding in this as well-

• The death and heartache Seeming to follow you as you found yourself handing in the hands of Sir Crocodile.

• Crocodile having had an interest to whoo you for years- as he too had met you on Gol D Roger's ship, finding you the only person more then suitable to be at his side.

• You had never truly accepted his advances, Despite his power, status and more. He didn't have your heart, and you wouldn't give him any part of yourself in compensation.

• Decades it had been like this, still the girl wrapped in silver and gold. Hoarded like treasure for everyone to admire, however nothing more.

• But it seemed the tides were beginning to change- After Crocodile time in Impel Down- as well as the formation of the Cross Guild- You would meet your blue haired friend once again. Just in a unique Flashy way

• AKA by his head being punched off by Crocodile and accidently flung into your waiting chest.

• "(Y/N)?-" He mumbled against your bust, your cheeks flaring deep crimson as he floated his head up to lock eyes with your flushed face.

• He got his ass beaten for that by Crocodile of course-

• But for you it was like your heart was Kickstart again!

• At the Cross Guild, you'd always attend. Crocodile assuming it was because you were warming up to him, But in truth it was to see Buggy-

• The two of you talking to each other constantly. He was so fascinating to you-

• Like you two were children again falling in love- Sitting out under the stars talking for hours. You tucking strands of his blue hair back into his hat, him fixing any Imperfections on yohr dresses as you sat next to him. Which often lead to Buggy giggling into his gloved hands while turning away from you

• You accepted him as he was, and adored him for it. You loved his mind, his passion, even his laziness and lewd humor.

• As time went on, you noticed the same for him. How he would ask you YOUR interest, what things YOU actually liked.

• Something no one had asked you since you were a child. Most just assuming your taste and interest.

• Hell when he came for meetings he would bring you something you'd actually want. Not just shiny things to make you look more valuable.

• "Hey (Y/N)!" Buggy cloaked towards you excited as he held out a old dirty crate to you. "I remeber you said you really liked weird plants, so I found these old books and scientist-y samples of the weirdest! Hope you like them!"

• You'd almost cried at the gift, so overfill with you you hugged Buggy. Before spending hours going through the crate and organizing it all to your liking.

• However with the sweets, came the sours...

• There had been countless times you'd walk into the Guild and see Buggys face. Beaten and bruised- How Crocodile and Mihawk kicked his ass as their own personal stress relief or just to show dominace.

• It broke your heart.. truly- Buggy humiliated like that infront of everyone time and time again... You would try to comfort him after the meetings but he would just run away- You swore you saw tears in his eyes a few times.

• You'd want to many times to have him run into your arms, so you could whisper how good of a man he is and deserving so love.

- It had been a particularly festive day in the Guild Hall, Crocodile dressing in a nicer suit as better food was served and fancy alcohol was served. You even being gifted a dress by the Desert King himself to wear today, you didn't refuse but felt rather uncomforble at how attentive he was acting with you.

And uncomfortable that he had purposely sat Buggy so far away from you..

As dinner was being served, Crocodile stood up from his seat next to you. Slapping his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement-" Crocodile voice boomed through the room, you glancing up as the hook handed man gestured for you to stand. Which you silently did-

Oh No...

"(Y/N)- Daughter of Silvers Rayleigh. A women of greatness and deserving of only the finest of riches"

No...

"I ask for your hand- I swear I will give you all the wealth you desire"

Please No...

"From Riches, Silks and even the One Piece if your little mind wishes for it"

NO!

"Will you Marry me?"

Something inside you just snapped. Staring at Crocodile face that had the crooked cigar hanging from his lips.

Crocodile taking your silence positively as he handed you a velvet box with a massive diamond ring inside of it.

You stared at the ring box that had been placed in your glove hands and felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Before A fire of rage filled your insides-

"We- We aren't even dating!-" You shouted, everyone looking to yoh in shock as you looked around wildly.

"What makes you think I want to stay by your side!? You were just ment to protect me not use me as a Scudo Girlfriend! I'm not yours nor will I ever be!-" Crocodile face starting to turn red, his eyes glancing around him before setting on you with a harsh glare.

"So I-I can't accept this" You finally hissed out, bright red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. Everyone in the Guild Hall staring at you in total shock.

"Besides My Heart... Belongs to someone else-" Crocodile eyes widen as he clenched his hands in rage. You handing the ring box back to him delicately, before turning to look at Buggy who had been picking his nose diassociating heavily at the dramatics. Only coming back to reality when he saw everyone was staring at him-

Buggy stares confused, 'Why are you all looking at me?' He looked behind himself first, Then around to see who you could be talking about, that had your heart. Realizing quickly he was alone and you actually ment HIM!

"Wait Me!?"

• After such a stunning yet shocking reveal, Crocodile cut you lose. Feeling you embarrassed him infront of everyone- Which had been the greatest day of your life!

• As you fly into Buggy's (Who got beaten senseless once again) arms. Who accepts you happily into his life-

• Frolicking away to his Circus Themed Ship in what can only be described as total Joy!

• "HAHAHAHAHA I WIN!!" He yells out, holding you in his arms as he flips off Crocodile once more and holds you in his arms.

• You adore his Flashy Crusty ways, the way he weirdly cackled and utter lack of emotional control.

• Oh How you love your Crusty Clown!

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x female reader #the grinch #one piece buggy #op buggy #buggy #buggy x wife reader

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theostrophywife · 6 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter eight.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: people i don't like - upsahl

author's note: moving it along. can't believe that there's only five more chapters left. this series has been my baby so i'm like in shambles as the end comes closer, but also excited.

The night of the dinner was finally upon you and the amalgamation of dread, trepidation, and wrath clouded over you like a malevolent fog. You weren’t looking forward to it, but you knew that Theo was right. If sitting through one lousy dinner secured a spot with the M.E.S.P, then you would begrudgingly grin and bear it.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. As Luna promised, Harry was waiting for you outside of Professor Slughorn’s office. Harry was dressed in a button down and a dark blazer paired with freshly pressed trousers. Despite his smart attire, his signature messy, black hair and slightly skewed glasses softened his appearance.

Harry smiled, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Hi, Y/N. You look lovely.”

You smoothed the front of your dress, which Pansy had helped you pick out. The fabric was sleek and silky and as dark as night. The front was simple, but the back dipped low and revealed more skin than you were used to. It was completely out of your comfort zone, but Pansy had insisted that you were meant to wear the dress.

“Thanks, Harry. So do you.” You stood up straighter, balancing on your impossibly tall heels—another Parkinson addition, before rolling your shoulders back. “Shall we?”

The inside of Professor Slughorn’s office had been transformed into an entirely different space. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling and covered the marble columns like tapestry. A round mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and sat upon it were fresh fruits, expensive cheese, and cold cuts. The plates were set in a circular formation and each one contained a placard with a different student’s name.

You took your place, quietly settling in between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl—Melissa? No, Melinda. You remembered that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries.

As you glanced around the table, you realized that while there were at least two or three members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, there was only one Slytherin in the midst. You weren’t that familiar with Cassius Warrington, but you knew that he was currently being pursued by the Chudley Cannons, which was plenty of incentive for Slughorn to invite him into the mix.

You were well aware that the presence of each student was contingent on the benefits they could help provide Slughorn and vice versa. After all, that was the purpose of the slug club, but facing it head on still made your stomach roil. You barely touched the filet mignon and scalloped potatoes for fear of retching it all back up. The conversations happening around you made it impossible to eat.

It was just endless prattling and bragging on and on about connections and achievements, much to Slughorn’s delight. The superficiality of it all made you nauseous. When McLaggen name dropped his influential uncle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you nearly pulled your hair out. You watched with a grimace as he lapped up his soup with tiny licks, sort of like a lizard toying with a fly.

Out of instinct, you turned to your right to snicker with Theo only to remember that he wasn’t there, which put you in a foul mood all over again.

“He does love to prattle on, doesn’t he?” Harry muttered in a low voice.

You nodded. “I imagine he only speaks to hear the sound of his own voice.”

“I take it that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

“If by enjoying you mean considering pulling my eyelashes out one by one, then you would be correct, Potter.”

“Forget the eyelashes. I might pluck my own eyes out all together if I hear McLaggen say my uncle Tiberius one more time.”

You snorted. “If you’re as miserable as I am, then what are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “People expect me to be here. To go on as normal. It’s important to have some semblance of that after last year, I suppose.”

You nodded sympathetically. Everyone looked up to Harry. He was a hero, a practical living legend, the boy who lived not once but twice. You imagined carrying all of that pressure on his shoulders couldn’t have been easy.

“What about you? You’re obviously not enjoying yourself, so why subject yourself to all of this?”

“I want to become a potioneer after I graduate. Slughorn is an influential member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, which means he’s my key to getting accepted so while this dinner is physically and mentally draining all of my energy, I don’t have much of a choice. Being the first muggleborn member of the society would be monumental. Not just for me, but for other witches in the future."

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “You know, Mione’s probably going to be the first muggleborn witch to become Minister of Magic.”

You smiled. While you two weren’t close by any means, you have always admired Hermione. Her academic achievements were the cause of your envy for many years, but after all that she had gone through, you stopped feeling that stab of jealousy.

“The wizarding world would be lucky to have Granger leading it,” you agreed. “Which reminds me, why isn’t she here tonight?”

“She declined the invitation. As did Ron.”

“I can’t blame them. I half expected you to do so as well. The three of you have done enough to last a lifetime.”

“Yes, but like I said. It’s important for me to participate in these things. To boost morale, or so I’ve been told.”

It was fascinating to you that Harry could joke about such things. If you had battled the darkest wizard of all time and lived to tell the tale, you would probably tell everyone to kindly fuck off forever, but you suppose that was the reason why Harry was the chosen one and not you.

“Do you ever feel like you’re still fighting?” you asked. “Voldemort and his followers are either dead or imprisoned, yes. But we’re still rooting out their ideologies to this day and now there’s this new suspicion surrounding an entire house despite the fact the Death Eaters had members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff too.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Everyone thinks that the war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, but in reality, our work is barely beginning. The hardest part is healing. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the fact that Tom was a Slytherin with my own biases about the whole house itself, but unlearning all of those misconceptions is a process. It takes a lot to change a person’s perception. We can’t all be as smart and logical as you Ravenclaws.”

“If only, right?” you said with a smile.

“Well, we could always try it your way and threaten to push people off of the bleachers.” His green eyes crinkled with amusement.

You groaned. “I can’t believe you heard about that.”

“I must say, Ron and I had a proper laugh when we heard about it. He still hasn’t forgotten his stay in the hospital wing thanks to Romilda’s tainted chocolate cauldrons.” You grimaced, which made Harry chuckle. “I am sorry about what she said to Pansy though. We aren’t friends by any means, but I’d like to think that we’re at least on civil terms. Luna talks about her fondly and if Parkinson’s got your approval, then it’s safe to assume that she’s treating our friend well.”

“She is,” you agreed. “They are nauseatingly perfect for each other.”

“I’m glad to hear it. We all deserve a little happiness.”

“Speaking of which, how’s Ginny doing?”

The boy who lived blushed furiously. “She’s well. How’s Theo doing?”

You smirked. “Touche, Potter. Touche.”

As the night droned on, you found excuses to visit the refreshment table just to get away from all the insufferable preening. While you fixed yourself a cup of tea, you sensed a presence to your right. Cassius surveyed the variety of teas on the table, but made no move to select any.

“Sorry, am I in your way?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just needed an excuse to get up.”

You chuckled. “Join the club, Warrington.” He smiled a little as you dropped a sugar cube into your cup. “Congratulations on the recruitment by the way. Your teammates won’t shut up about it.”

Cassius scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy. “Thanks, Y/N. Everything is still in the negotiation stage, but after the last game, I think my chances are looking good. The boys said you were there for the match.”

“Yeah, I was. This might not mean much since I haven’t watched a game since fourth year, but you guys were great out there. It was bloody brutal. I had a blast.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We do our best to put on a show,” he said. Warrington toyed with his saucer. He looked around before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Listen, Y/N. I heard about what you did for Pansy.”

“You and the rest of the school, apparently.”

“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for her. Pansy—she—helped me out a lot after my father was imprisoned and I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone in Slytherin, especially those that were caught in the crossfire last year, owe a lot to her. She’s one of the good ones.”

You nodded, smiling. “I wouldn’t have let her date my best friend if I didn’t think that myself.”

“Luna makes her really happy. I’m glad that they have each other. Pansy earned it.”

“They both did.”

The conversation was cut short as Slughorn tapped his spoon against his goblet. The two of you reluctantly made your way back to the table.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. It is a great privilege to be able to gather after all that passed last year. I urge you to look around at your fellow witches and wizards, remembering the fallen and celebrating the sacrifices that have all brought us back to this castle. As we commemorate this monumental moment, let us look not to the past but to the future.”

You swirled the glass of sparkling non-alcoholic spritzer, only half listening to the generic drivel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. The more Slughorn talked, the more irritated you felt. There was all this talk of looking to the future, moving on, hoping for a better tomorrow, but what use was that if you couldn’t even fix the present?

Professor Slughorn raised his glass in the air. “A toast to the best of the best.”

That one phrase was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had no idea why, but those words finally made you crack.

“That’s not right though, is it professor?” The whole table fell silent as every head turned in your direction. “Sure we may be smart, accomplished, but not the best.”

Slughorn reeled back in surprise. His expression faltered before he plastered on a false smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. All of you worked hard to get here.”

“None of us are even the top student in your class. That would be Theo.” You were vaguely aware that you were raising your voice, but once the words tumbled past your lips, you couldn’t reel them back in. “But he’s not here because surely we can’t invite your star pupil to a slug club dinner if his father is in Azkaban for being a death eater. That would be like inviting the Dark Lord to dinner, but wait. Didn’t you already do that, professor?”

A gasp came from your right. Melinda stared at you as though you’d grown an extra head.

“That’s quite enough, Y/N.”

Your humorless laughter echoed in the cavernous office. “Oh, but I’m just getting started. What was it that you said in your welcoming speech at the beginning of the year? Unity and reconciliation? Surely ostracizing someone for his father’s deeds, which he had nothing to do with by the way, judged and ruled by the Ministry itself, directly contradicts that sentiment, does it not? Or are we all just supposed to ignore this blatant display of discrimination against a perfectly innocent student?”

“Perfectly innocent?” scoffed McLaggen. “Nott comes from a long line of dark wizards as do the rest of the Slytherins. They show you an ounce of kindness and suddenly you become their little muggleborn pet.”

To your surprise, Cassius leapt to his feet. “Don’t call her that,” he nearly growled. “Y/N is just being a good friend. She stood up for Pansy when no one else would and now she’s doing it for Theo, too. You want to compare ledgers, McLaggen? Didn’t your father and uncle conspire to bring the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control? They armed Voldemort and the Death Eaters then profited off of the war. They deserve to be in Azkaban just as much as my father does, but conveniently their records were wiped clean. Isn’t that why your family moved to France?”

The room was utterly silent. McLaggen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but Cassius wasn’t done. He wheeled around to face the other attendees. “I’m not stupid. I know I was only invited because I’m being scouted by the Cannons, but I hoped that attending would make you see me as someone more than just a Death Eater’s son. I guess I was wrong and now I’m done with this farce. You’ll never stop seeing us as the villains.”

Without waiting for a response, Cassius stormed out of the room. He held his head up proudly, nodding to you and Harry as he made his graceful exit.

“Cassius is right,” Harry declared. “So is Y/N. We can’t crucify every Slytherin for the mistakes of a few. That would make us no better than Voldemort himself. The way I see it, the only way to get to the future we all fought for is to work with our fellow classmates, the Slytherins included. I hope you can learn to look past your biases and false perceptions, just as I’m learning how to.”

Not a single person moved as Harry finished his speech. “Right, well that’s that then.” He turned over to you. “Shall we get going, Y/N?”

“Gladly.”

You pushed your chair back and paid no mind to the burning gazes seared upon your back. Before following Harry out of the office, you leaned in close to McLaggen and lowered your voice so only he could hear. “If you ever speak poorly of my friends again, I’ll dose you with a potion that makes your precious man parts shrivel.”

Cormac paled several shades as you patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert, McLaggen. I heard chocolate ganache pairs well with prejudice.”

The castle was quiet at this time of night. You and Harry walked side by side through the dungeons in silence. For someone who just blew up her academic career, you felt fairly calm. You knew that speaking up for your friends was the right thing to do.

“Thank you for speaking up back there,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t owe anyone anything after all you’ve done, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I do though. Hearing Cassius in there, I realized that the Ministry has failed both sides in a lot of ways. I think we’re all so eager to go back to the way things were before that we’re willing to overlook a lot of things. I’ve never even thought about families like the McLaggens who aided the Dark Lord, but got off with a light sentence. Or people like Cassius and Pansy and Theo who face a lot of unfair judgment from the rest of the wizarding world.”

“That’s the point, Harry. You shouldn’t have to think about it. None of us should. We’re all just children forced to grow up by the war because of the failure of those before us. It’s unfair to be burdened with a load so heavy.”

Harry sighed, nodding. “But if we don’t carry our load, we risk repeating the same mistakes and I won’t have that. We have to do better than the past generations.”

“We will,” you declared. “We have to.”

The torch lights drew shadows across the stone floors as you contemplated.

“You really care about them, don’t you?” It was more a statement rather than a question. You nodded, which made Harry smile. “I can tell that they care about you, too. Especially Theo.”

“We spent years in competition with one another, the classic bitter rivals. It’s kind of ironic that we became friends during our last year here.”

Harry looked at you strangely. “Right, friends…”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at the green eyed wizard. “What’s that tone for, Potter?”

His mouth quirked. “Nothing, it’s just—well, Theo looks at you like I used to look at Ginny. With pining and yearning, as Mione liked to say. And the way you defended him earlier, Ginny would’ve done the same for me.” You were silent for a moment as you absorbed his words. “A word of advice, Y/N. I know it’s against those Ravenclaw instincts, but sometimes it’s good to get out of your head and tune into your heart instead.”

“Since when did the boy who lived become an expert on all things romance?” you teased.

“A handful of near death experiences really helps put things into perspective.”

You grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Potter.” The two of you came to a stop at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. “Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight. I genuinely hope to never do it again.”

Harry laughed. “You and me both, Y/N.”

You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in thanks, feeling uncharacteristically chipper despite the disastrous dinner. “Good night, Harry.”

He smiled, blushing slightly. “Good night, Y/N.”

As you climbed up the spiraling staircase, you saw a glimpse of snow falling softly over the castle grounds. When you stopped and stared at the glittering landscape, you recalled the other night in Hogsmeade when Theo leaned in to brush the snowflakes off of your lips.

There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you.

You were certain that you already knew what Theo was about to say, because you’ve been meaning to tell him the same thing too. When you reached the fifth floor, your grin had grown so wide that your cheeks ached from smiling. As you slipped past the bronze eagle knocker, you caught a glimpse of a discarded bouquet of wisterias peeking out from a nearby trash bin.

With a pause, you plucked a petal off of your favorite flower and tucked it into your braid. You went to sleep that night thinking that Harry was right.

Maybe it was time to let your heart do the talking.

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sytoran · 10 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟒

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!human!reader

note: reader has a penis. this is the fourth chapter of the goddess!nat universe!! i am sorry this took so long, but i was taking my time to not stress myself out too much. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

word count: 2.7k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously…

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

Now, one month later…

Music thrums in your bloodstream, your head spinning. The flashing fluorescent lights blind your vision at sporadic intervals and you feel like you’re floating above the ground.

“Another,” you rasp to the dark-haired bartender, slamming down an empty shot glass. “Keep ‘em comin’.” Your eyes dart around the close-bodied pack in the middle of the bar, drunken whoops and cheers sounding as girls press against each other.

The whiskey burns in your throat as the DJ picks up the beat. Inside the hazy mess of purple-shrouded figures in the crowd, only one catches your eye. She’s into the music, trailing her hands over her body and swinging her hips in time to the music. The people around her can’t touch her bubble.

Before your clouded brain registers a fraction of your stupid actions, you down the next shot and walk up to her.

You’re not completely stupid, though. You’ve made an effort to dress nice, a cream-coloured collared shirt. Natasha said you looked amazing in those. You’ve put on your new rings. The ones that you bought with Natasha’s money. You’ve been hitting the gym, lifting weights and working your muscles. To take your mind off Natasha fucking Romanoff.

It doesn’t work, though. It never works.

“Hey,” you say to the dancing woman. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering, like Natasha when she slept in your embrace. “What’s up?”

She doesn’t seem to hear you, despite your relatively close proximity, perhaps because the music is too obnoxiously loud. Or at least, that’s what you think before the woman is beckoning you closer with a finger. Bossy. Just like Natasha.

You take another step towards her, then another step. She guides your hands to her waist, then with the drop of a beat, she spins around and presses herself flush against you, ass grinding up and down against your crotch area.

The arousal hits you, and a low growl catches in your throat. Seductive, just like Natasha, because she was the Goddess of–

You haul yourself out of that spiral before it can take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane. You needed to forget. And the gorgeous woman putting herself up for grabs in front of you seemed like a very good distraction.

You splay your right hand over her thinly-clothed stomach, hearing her little gasp at your warmth and requited boldness, while your left-hand works its way through her hair and tugs on it. Her reaction is exactly as desired, a low hum of desire like music to your ears, and the way she’s eagerly grinding on your growing bulge is certainly not something you’d complain about.

“Wanna step outside for a little bit?” You ask lowly, dipping your head down to drag your teeth lightly along her ear.

—

“Oh, fuck! Please!”

Her moans bounce off the walls of the dingy alleyway, as you thrust into her. You let her arms wrap around the back of your neck, her grasp tightening with each of your ministrations. Sandwiched between your body and the brick wall was her writhing figure, squirming as your hands supported her up.

The two of you hadn’t even made it two blocks away from the bar, to her apartment which was not too far away – the result of unbridled, alcohol-induced lust was a dimly-shrouded alleyway with two bodies desperately seeking warmth for one night.

Even as you had your cock inside her, feeling how wet she was for you, it didn’t feel right.

The noises she made were too high-pitched, too grating on the ears. Natasha’s ones had sounded heaps better; with the smoky husk that grew more breathless as she called out your name.

Even as she had her hands wrapped around your back, it felt wrong.

Her nails were too short and she was gripping at the fabric on the back of your shirt, tugging at all the angles that made it uncomfortable. Natasha had been so much more different, digging crescent-shaped imprints into the back of your neck that hurt so good.

Nevertheless, you tried your best to make the experience enjoyable. You swear you fucking tried.

“Let me,” you whispered into her ear, taking her hands off your back and placing them above her head. “Y-yeah, please,” she whined in response, but you barely heard her.

You stepped closer to the wall, pushing yourself farther inside her. Distracting yourself by using your free hand to grope at her breasts through the fabric, then running your palms over her hardened nipples.

Fuck, even her breasts couldn’t compare to Natasha’s.

Tears prickled at the back of your eyes, burned like gasoline, because what the fuck had you done to deserve this? Lose the ‘love of your life’ one night, get shit-faced the next day, and end up with your cock inside some woman whose name you didn’t even know.

Even as you sloppily thrust into her, try to forget, try to forget, it can’t work. It won’t fuckin’ work. It would never work, because no one could ever be Natasha.

God, she had taken you on the biggest thrill of your goddamned life, then stopped the rollercoaster while you were suspended midair.

And there you were, hanging above the world with no safety net, and you were oh so lonely.

“Oh please, more,” the woman cries, moving her hips to chase her high, her hands on your clothes again. What the fuck? “Daddy!” she shrieks, once, at a certain deeper thrust, and you pull out faster than you ever have before.

The vision of you and Natasha on that beach in Malibu flashes before your eyes like a movie screen, and the light reflects of your empty eyes.

“Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone daddy?” you had asked, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame at using that title on you.

“It’s complicated,” Natasha had replied, squirming under your inspective gaze. She had trailed her hand down to your cock again, but you had denied her of that pleasure. “We’re not done here, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Natasha had grumbled, adorably pouty. “That’s the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

“Oh,” you replied then, softly, trailing her rib with a gentle finger. “I think I quite like it.”

Fuck, you didn’t ‘quite like it’ anymore. You hated it, fucking hated it, hated you ever got attached to anything like that. Malibu seems like a distant fantasy, the grains of sand on the beach falling through your fingers like those in an hourglass.

What could’ve happened if you and Natasha had more time? If she hadn’t broken it off? Would you have married her? Could you two have been truly happy?

“No, please, I was so close,” the woman from the bar whines, clinging onto you, suffocating you. You took a step back, eyes wide, feeling like you were in a state of psychedelia.

The woman’s hair wasn’t the right shade of brown. Her green eyes looked like fool’s gold compared to Natasha’s kaleidoscopic ones. She was wrong, so wrong.

“I can’t,” you breathe, feeling your heart thudding against the cages of your chest, screaming to be let out. Your chest heaves with desperation, eyes wide and flitting. You pull up your pants, button your shirt shakily. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Everything was wrong. You weren’t okay. You just needed Natasha, you just needed her.

“What?” the woman responds, stepping away from you, looking at you like you were some lost animal. Maybe you were, trembling in the cold night air, pathetic and pitiable. At the knowledge that you weren’t joking, she lets out a half-assed scoff.

“Fuckin’ loser,” she calls out in contempt, her sharp voice echoing in the alleyway as she stalks away, and you slide down the wall with a wracking sob.

Natasha wasn't just different from any other woman you could be with — she was other-wordly, metaphorically and physically, and no one would ever be able to come close.

You sit there, crying into your hands, wondering how much of a fool you probably looked like.

Natasha had chewed you up and then spat you out, leaving you on the graffitied path of a dingy alleyway: A disfigured shape of the person you once were, just waiting to be crushed once more.

—

The Goddess of Lust sits upon her throne, a falsified smile on her breathtaking face. Her eyelids flutter in practiced motion, so innocently charming. She twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, just like she was taught.

“So, you’ll agree to this deal?” she asks, especially softly, making her voice a little more husky than it naturally was.

The men before her all nodded desperately, prey to her thrall like lambs to the slaughter. Fuck, men across the universe had one thing in common and that was their unbridled horniness. “Of course, Goddess, as long as you, uh, give us a little bonus.” A bold one added, not even trying to hide the sexual innuendo.

Natasha wanted to rip someone apart, but all she did was sweetly plaster a smile across her delicate features and nod in faux bashfulness.

She tunes out the mindless drivel of business in the works and plans to be carried out for the betterment of her kingdom. It was worse than watching paint dry.

Suddenly, a jolt of nausea hit her and she jerked in her throne.

“Is something the matter, Goddess Natasha?”

The Goddess of Lust swallows harshly, her stomach lurching with each passing second. “I- uh, I think I need some rest, that’s all,” she says, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.

“But we’re not done discussing the-”

Natasha scoffs, ignoring the searing pain to spit out her next words with venom. “I suggest you make your way out of my palace before I ensure you never step foot into my kingdom again.”

At that, the man who had been speaking to her turned flushed with irritation but bit back his words. He shook his head at the rest, leaving resolutely with his ego bruised.

The moment the men were out of her sight, Natasha teleported to the bathroom in her master bedroom and positively threw up in the toilet bowl, tears in her eyes. Was this the consequence of her actions? To suck up to shitty men and feel like a pile of shit?

Come to think of it, Natasha hadn’t felt this sick only until the two of you had been split apart a month ago. On some days, she would not stop throwing up, or her toes would grow numb, or she would get that sour, metallic taste in her mouth that made her want to throw up all over again.

It was downright ridiculous. The only types of people with these urges were women from Earth who were preg-

Oh no.

Natasha sinks down onto the cold marble of her bathroom floor, hand gripping at the side of the gold bathtub. She feels sick, all over.

Oh, hell fuckin’ no.

There was no way. There was just simply no way that this was happening right now. Because she had lost you. The mere thought of being tied to you in that sort of way was out of the question.

With another snap of her fingers, Natasha materializes in front of Stephen Strange’s castle. She probably looked ridiculous, tears staining her face while in a fancy dress, showing up on the doorstep of a friend she hadn’t seen in ages.

Strange was the God of Time, but it was more than well-known he had been a miracle surgeon, a lifetime ago. When the door opened, Natasha’s tears were welling up, and immediately the dark-haired man stepped aside to let her in.

“What’s the matter, Nat?” he asked softly. The Goddess sniffs, ragged breaths shaking her whole body. “I have a little medical issue.” she replies despondently.

“Why didn’t you go to Helen? You know she’s the Goddess of Health,” Strange says, stepping back slowly, then turning around and gesturing for Natasha to follow. As he begins walking up the steps, he continues. “Or Shuri, for that matter. Goddess of Geniuses. There’s no better bet than her, am I right?”

As they enter a room with medical equipment, Natasha sighs. “This is a special case. Something that I don’t want to make public, even if it is confirmed to be true.”

“Oh,” the God says thoughtfully. “I’ll do my best, in that case.” He moves to grab a device from the table, but

“I’m sorry, Stephen. It’s just…… I don’t want all that. Can you just…… you know,” she asks, trying to force a lopsided smile onto her face, to ease the growing tension.

The God looks taken aback for a moment, before putting down the device and nodding in agreement. He closes his eyes, and gradually a golden light encases the room, warm and inviting.

Sparks fly, swirling from the walls before they encircle Natasha. Glowing brightly, swimming with power.

There are two heartbeats, one is hers and one is Strange’s, both strong and steady. But there is also a third one, with weaker and slower thuds.

Strange waves his hand and opens his eyes. The lights fade into nothingness. There is a moment after that, when Natasha locks eyes with him, that the galaxy hangs on its axis and everything becomes nothing.

“Natasha… you’re pregnant.”

—

Stumbling into your apartment with your head spinning, you unbutton your shirt and shrug it off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness of your home.

You had far too many drinks than what was considered acceptable, and it was 3.47 am. At least, that’s what the numbers on your phone told you. Maybe it was 7.43 am. Ah, you wouldn’t fuckin’ know. You couldn’t read the numbers with your dizzied vision.

Rubbing at your nose and then sniffing loudly, you almost trip over the leg of a strewn chair as you reach for the light switch. Right, the chair you had thrown across the living room when you had a breakdown that morning. Well, yesterday morning.

You cough out, hands gripping the wall for support, and your throat is too fucking raw and your eyes well up for the umpteenth time. “I’m pathetic,” you whisper to no one in particular. Your shaking hands finally find the light switch and you flick it on.

“At least you’re self-aware. Because you look like shit.”

You leap backwards at the sound before you, cursing as you knock into the chair again and fall over.

The lights flickering on reveal a man dressed in a dark green robe, a horn-shaped gold ornament on his head. He looks at you with a sadistic smirk playing on his lips, eating a slice of — was that your fucking leftover pizza?

“Who- who are you,” you breathe out, absolutely convinced you were just hallucinating. This felt oddly reminiscent of the time Carol had scared you in your office, except this man made your stomach churn in the worst ways possible.

He dusted off his clothes of the pizza crumbs, stepping up to you slowly, and you hate how your heart pounds in absolute fear. The man leans down to meet you at eye level, his black curls falling as his lips curve upwards.

“I am Loki, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. Some call me the fallen angel, or the devil’s incarnate, but I have and always will be a god,” he says, and the way he carried himself with such calculated ease and unnerving confidence had you frozen in place.

“Y/N L/N, today I grace you with my presence to strike a deal.” He continues, straightening up again to start pacing the room.

“And what makes you think you can do anything for me?” you ask, in disbelief, almost laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. Your grin fades away at the seriousness behind Loki’s deceiving eyes.

He stops and turns around, locking eyes with you. Your heart rises. No.

“I can make you a God.”

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did anyone notice loki was first mentioned in chapter 2?? i was foreshadowing or at least i tried to LMAO

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #goddess natasha #natasha x y/n #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #x reader #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #gxg smut #wlw smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader angst

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hanjsquokka · 2 days

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Swim - [ Lee Know ]

🎸 SYNOPSIS : After a nasty break-up with your loser ex, you head to your favorite club to let loose, when the bartender catches your eye. He's managed to make you laugh more than you had all week and slowly you find yourself losing focus on his words and more on his veiny hands.

GENRE : smut, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : lee know × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : smut (warnings under the cut!), cocky minho, mentions of cheating (not between minho and reader), drinking

WORD COUNT : 1.7K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : (Part of my Stray Kids × Chase Atlantic series special for their sixth anniversary). Lee Minho. Where do I even start with this man. I think I started to notice more of him during the Oddinary Era videos (because of his purple hair 🧎‍♀️). I feel like out of all of them, I'm very much similar to him. I like him a lot because of that. Also his cats :( I think seeing him transformed me into a 75% cat person now lmao.

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : hand kink, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), piv, semi-public sex, use of nicknames (doll, bunny), choking (fem receiving), clothed sex (?), reader drinks a little but no drunk sex, everyone is sober and consenting!

“Three shots of vodka please.” You said as you slid onto the bar stool, eyes on the bartender's back as he nodded and prepared your drink, handing you three shot glasses and leaned against the counter. You adjusted the hem of your short dress once you noticed a guy eyeing you with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Rough day?” The bartender asked, watching you down a glass.

“How do you know?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Everyone's out here drinking gin tonics and beers. Call it a hunch, I guess.” He shrugged, making you chuckle and thread your fingers together, watching the man with newfound interest. Brown hair hung over his eyes, the middle part showing a bit of his forehead. His lips were rosy (and very kissable at first impression). His biceps strained against the black button up he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up giving you a perfect view of his veiny arms and hands… Oh god — his hands. “So what's gotten the fine lady in a bad mood?” He asked, his big eyes focused on yours.

You drummed your nails against your glass. “I'll let you guess.”

“Let's see…” He cocked his head to the side, “boss yelled at you? Fired? Friends?” You shook your head. Finally, his eyes light up, “Ah… vodka, hanging out at the bar instead of the floor, your phone's practically a vibrator at this point — broke up with your man?”

“He's an asshole.” You huffed and took another shot, the burning liquid flowing down your throat made you cringe but you welcomed the floating feeling that followed afterwards. You weren't a lightweight, a few vodka shots weren't going to make you dead drunk, but you felt better. “He went out to a party, got wasted and fucked someone — two someone's as per his friend. And then had the fucking audacity to beg for another chance.”

He laughed. “Sounds about right.” A song started to play in the background — most likely by the performing group (3RACHA or something?) of the night since there were cheers all around. He turned around and then back again, placing a glass of ice cold beer in front of you. “On the house. That guy is an asshole. You deserve much better.”

“You don't even know me.”

“Any girl like you deserves better than a cheating bastard.”

You laughed, the smile brightening on your face as you kept talking to the man, who introduced himself as Minho. Minho. You liked that name. You liked your name rolling off his tongue even more when he repeated it after you, saying it again after tending to a few other customers. You stole glances at his hands when you thought he wasn't looking, the prominent veins underneath his smooth skin made your face flush as dirty thoughts clouded your mind.

“Do you stare at everyone's hands, or is it just mine?” The smug smile on his face paired with the glint in his eyes — he knew what you'd been doing. You turned red, trying to stammer some sort of response but it died out once you noticed that he didn't look like… he was bothered by it. “I feel honored.” He leaned forward, fingers pulling out some invisible leaf from your hair as he whispered, “wanna tell me what you were thinking about, doll?”

You gave a very intelligent response. “Uh…”

He smirked, looking away from you to tell one of the other bartenders that he was going to get more glasses from the back before telling you in a low voice, “Wait here for a few minutes and then go through the employees only door in the back.” You couldn't muster an answer before he winked and left.

Your heart was thudding in your chest. Were you actually going to do it? Follow a bartender you met a few hours ago? Something inside you was telling you to go for it. Sure, there was a possibility of you walking straight into a trap, but there were so many times he could've done something to you the whole night and he did nothing but lift your spirits. He'd managed to make you laugh more than you had all week.

You downed your last shot before getting up and going to where he instructed you to. No one batted an eye as you slipped through the clearly labeled employees only door and carefully walked into the dimly lit place that looked to be a janitor's closet when a finger tapped on your shoulder and you were met with Minho's big eyes again.

“Now that we're alone…” The muffled sound of music still played from behind the door, “what were you thinking when you were staring at my hands, hm?” You swallowed, Minho's finger traced your jawline before resting underneath your chin, making you look straight at him.

“W-Well…”

“Words, bunny.”

The nickname turned your ears red. “Y-You might be right…”

“Might?”

“Fine.” There was no going back anymore. “I was thinking… certain things about your hands.”

“Like what?”

“How they'd…” You bit your lip. “How they'd feel inside me… or… around m-my neck.”

“Good bunny.” He smirked. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He wasted no time joining his lips with yours, practically devouring you as he pushed against the wall, tongue sliding into your mouth and meeting yours. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing the flesh as he deepened the kiss. Sloppy and messy, things only got more heated as the minutes flew by. He detached from you and instead peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your palm was flat against his chest, feeling his muscles tensing beneath your skin. He nipped at a spot on your neck that made heat pool between your thighs, an unintelligible sound leaving your mouth.

“Oh, you liked that?” He bit down again in the same spot, hard enough to leave a mark before smoothing over it with his tongue.

“Please…” You whimpered.

“Please what?”

“N-Need you. Your fingers.”

“Where do you need them bunny?” He was teasing you. You could see that. But you had just about enough of it. You took his hand and guided it between your parted legs, right onto your covered crotch. “You're soaking. Just thinking about my hands did this to you?” You nodded. He rubbed your clothed pussy, making your head fall onto his shoulder, the feeling nearly making your knees buckle and he barely even did anything. He pulled his hand away and tapped his finger against your lips, “Suck.”

You wasted no time in doing exactly what he said, wrapping your pink lips around his two fingers and coating them with your saliva. He chuckled, taking them out and slipping off your panties from underneath the short dress you were wearing, rubbing over your folds and your clit. You moaned at the simple touch which made him chuckle. He prodded at your hole before a digit entered inside you and you could've cum from just the feelings. “Oh god…”

He inched his finger inside and slowly began moving it in and out, adding another finger when he heard the sweet, sinful sounds escaping your lips, scissoring you open. “Look at you. Already fucked out from just my fingers. How are you even going to be able to handle my cock, hm?”

“I-I can do it. Want your cock. W-Want you to fill me up, Minho, p-please —” You were cut off by your own whimper as he pressed his thumb against your bundle of nerves. You were clenching around his fingers, almost able to taste your orgasm when he stopped and removed his fingers. You whined at the loss, your climax crumbling away.

“The only way you're cumming —” He undid his belt and pulled his pants down along with boxers so his dick could spring out. “On my cock.” And it was big. Fuck. You drooled at the sight of his thick cock, the leaky mushroom tip and the vein that ran along his length and then his heavy balls — holy shit. “Get on that table for me.” He nudged his head towards the small desk table. You scrambled to get there, laying down on the cold wood, your wet pussy on full display for him. “Such an obedient bunny.” He ran the tip of his dick along your folds, only entering you slowly after you whined for him to just put it in.

And he was big. He just kept going and going until you felt the head brush against your cervix. You felt impossibly full, head swimming in ecstasy. Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see he was struggling to keep his composure, eyebrows taut as he held your hips down. Once you gave him the go ahead, he wasted no time in setting a quick pace. Your moans echoed off the walls. The music from outside was like a background track for the sinful deed you were doing.

The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim.

“Pussy so fucking tight — even after I stretched you out with my fingers —” Minho grunted, angling his hips so that he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see white with every thrust. You were babbling incoherently, much to his amusement. “Did I fuck my bunny dumb already?” One of his free hands reached up and wrapped around your throat. You opened your eyes again, the sight of his veiny arms making you clench impossibly tighter. He let out a groan, squeezing your neck to restrict your breathing a little.

You could feel your orgasm approaching again, your moans turned into high pitched whimpers, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra as you convulsed, cumming around his cock, milking him dry. He let put a string of curses as his thrusts turned sloppy and uncoordinated before he came inside you, fucking his seed into you until he was spent and slowed down.

The two of you were silent, panting to catch your breath.

“Block your loser ex. I'm the one who's going to make you feel like this. With my mouth. With my fingers. And with my dick. Over and over again.”

#Spotify #k-labels #stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours

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trulyumai · 20 days

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Oh, Mr Mosses (Series) II

Part one can be found here!

https://www.tumblr.com/trulyumai/746978557424812032/oh-mr-mosses-series?source=share

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being.

Will you be as smitten of him as he is of you? Only time will tell.

Taglist; @tfamidoingwithmylife (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Oh, Mr. Mosses II

“There you are Ms. Svertchz, have a wonderful day!” The receptionist smiled and through the glass she carefully looked at the woman in front of her. Her nails were so clean, she noticed, they were always gelled, matching whatever premium outfit she had on that day.

“Yes, you too dear.” Without a glance at the younger woman the resident walked off, the tapping of her heels echoed through the old corridor and finally ceased when the elevator creaked its way down.

It had been a week since meeting Francis, and she hadn’t really gotten a true impression of the man. He was so quiet, so… watchful. Anything she did in front of him she could feel his eyes on her, always staring at her with this thoughtful yet blank expression.

He was just shy, she had thought. And if she was to make a move at all, it had to be small enough so that neither of them would be too embarrassed or caught off guard.

He was so handsome, he was dressed nicely all the time and his lazy gaze fit his face so well. His nose was a bit hooked and larger than the average, but he made it look rugged, sexy even.

With a shake to the head and a glance at the clock she let out a sigh. It was break time.

Clouds rolled in, the rain came down soon after and poured down mercilessly. The winds howled along with it and she swore that if it got any stronger, the building would come cascading down. Almost everyone had checked in for the night, everyone except, she eyed the list again; Francis Mosses.

With a squeeze to the paper she couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath.

It was hell waiting to see if the dupe would come through the doors. Recently it had been trickier to spot the fake, they were getting smarter, better.

Just the other day she almost let in a double of Ms. Bubbles, if she hadn’t noticed the lipstick was maroon instead of its usual raspberry who knows how many bodies would be littering the floor right now. The monster was furious she had caught on, it was so close, so close to being let in and getting its way through the building.

A slam startled her out of her thoughts, the doors to the plaza burst open from someone- or something walking inside.

The steps were slow, lazy, it had to be-

“Mmm. Hello.” The milkman smiled, and although it was small, it comforted the receptionist dearly.

“Hello Francis! The regular forms, please.” Straight to business, then who knows? Maybe ask him about coffee, a bookstore date, anything!

Grabbing the papers he slid them over to the entrance, pushing them through with ease.

Turning them over she began her rambling.

“How was your day, Francis? Things have been super slow here.” She mumbled, lining up each number and form.

“Mm, it was fine. The rain was a bit of a hindrance but it didn’t stop me from completing my routes.” God, the way she said his name, he had to stop himself from biting down on his knuckles. Perfect, how could someone be so perfect all the time?

He was enamored, obsessed even, with everything she was. It had been a week, sure, but it felt like a lifetime for him.

She was distracted, per usual so he could stare at her freely now with no embarrassment to be had. Yet.

Her blouse was simple, a nice pale pink that hugged her in all the right places. And was that, a pencil skirt? Holy hell, this woman would be the death of him.

With a glance to her left she looked at the schedule for the hundredth time, Francis' name was indeed there.

“Everything’s clear, sorry for the wait.” She smiled at him then, her perfect teeth molded smoothly around her lips and- did he say she was perfect yet?

“Thank you.” Those glossy lips were tantalizing him, that had to be new lipstick, there’s no way he hadn’t noticed that sheen before on those plump, kissable-

“Are you okay? You space out a lot,” she laughed.

Quickly grabbing his forms he shoved them in his pocket, not bothering to open his wallet once more.

He had to leave, the thoughts were getting to him, he felt hot, sweaty and tight in all the wrong places. It was a good thing his uniform came with black pants, otherwise he wouldn’t bother to show his face around any longer.

“Mm, have a good night.” Without a pause he made his way to the elevator, and if it wasn't for the hand that shot out the paper slot he would have made it there.

“Wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to grab you like that, but um,” his eyes couldn’t help but widen, looking down her hand was still around his wrist. So small, so soft.

“Do you… want to get coffee sometime?” She mumbled, although the rain was heavy and sounded out almost anything, he heard her. Because of course he did. Lifting his other arm, he couldn’t help but cover his mouth and cheeks. He rubbed his face, played it off as if he was really thinking it over, like it was a hard answer.

“Mmm. Sure that sounds good.” And with a light smile he met her eyes. They were shining, full of emotion and if he looked any longer there was no way he was leaving.

“Wait, really?” She gasped, letting go of his hand quickly and slotting it back to the other side.

“Mhm, just… I’ll come to you, my schedule is quite hectic, you see.”

“No of course! That sounds great, I'm sorry again for grabbing you,” And she truly looked apologetic, her face was so sympathetic, chin tilted downwards and she looked more like a kicked puppy than anything else.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he’s totally not going to imagine her hands later, gripping his shoulders, neck, trailing them down further and further.

“I’ll see you soon then!” She pushed her hair back, letting it fall behind her gorgeous neck, collarbones and, what was he saying again?

“Mm? Yes. Yes I’ll see you soon.” With a little pep to his step he pushed the elevator button.

It was then a call rang out, it was the work phone.

With a dreamy sigh she imagined him, the date and how perfect it all would be. Maybe they could grab dessert after.

“Resident desk, employee 29 speaking.”

“Hey 29! Great to catch you!” The manager's voice rang through and she sighed, her break was almost up and of course, the most extroverted person had to come talk her ear off.

“Hello sir, what can I do for you?”

“Straight to the point, you know I love that! You got the schedule for next week, right? Should be in a yellow envelope,” he smacked his teeth on the other end, and she could picture him now with his toothpick and big glasses staring right at her.

“Yes sir, you told me not to open it until the day of.”

He laughed. “Yep yep! Just uh, making sure. So, while I have you I thought I should mention,” shuffling was heard on the other end, like papers were being sorted through and thrown about.

“The D.D.D wanted to make sure all employees know that this month will be more active than ever, and uh, they're sending in new forms to sign, waivers and what not.”

She frowned. Active? What, how, why?

Cutting him off she couldn’t help but talk fast. “Sir? Active? Why are they more active?”

He paused, and she swore she could hear her heartbeat through her ears before he spoke up again.

“Yeah, yeah, they said it had something to do with the weather? No idea, didn’t really bother to ask them you know, it’s hard to hold a conversation with a guy in a hazmat suit.”

He laughed again and she wanted to strangle him, the man couldn’t take anything serious.

“That’s all doll, you have a wonderful evening you here?”

“Wait, sir-“ Click.

That bastard, who does he think he is? Who does management think they are? Putting the phone back on the hook she couldn’t help but feel tired. Tired from work bullshit, how everyone brushed her off even though she was helping people, saving lives each and every night.

The clock chimed, signaling for her shift to be over and she lazily rolled her chair back, getting up while picking at her nails.

At least she had the date to look forward to, right?

A/N: Second chapter done! We are slowly getting to the darker side of things woo! The next chapter will be a big one. I'll be introducing Francis’ mimic and will the receptionist be able to tell which is which? Well see! Let me know if i should implement more smuttier descriptions or content, for now i haven't but that can change! See you lovelies soon, TrulyUmai

#Horror #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #TNMN!#x reader #slow burn #romance #horror game #game x reader #Francis Mosses x you

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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