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#that trope can go choke
sweetiecutie · 4 months
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Hi!
I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!
And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.
Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))
Love your work btw <33
A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️
Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking
Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4
Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.
Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.
Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.
Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.
Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.
Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”
Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.
Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.
Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.
Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.
And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.
That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3
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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months
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Hello! Can you please do gasly reader with Charles leclerc and they are in a secret relationship because Pierre is super Crazy protective over her and they have the best sibling bond. And age gap please and obsessed charles please
A/N" I utterly love this trope! Age gap and secretive realtionship??? Yes please
Lying on your stomach, tracing the jaw and nose of your sleeping boyfriend. Charles was completely naked, and you knew he'd have to leave for training soon but also have to dodge your brother who always come for Monday brunch.
Sighing gently, you watch as the sun kisses his skin sending it a shimmering gold. "Charles," You whisper. Charles groans rolling over and tugging you into his chest. You sigh, loving the feeling of your skin touching his.
"Go back to sleep," You giggle, knowing you couldn't do that or else Pierre would most definitely catch you two. "Pierre will be here soon." Charles growls and blinks his eyes open the sun making them look like jewels bouncing in the ocean. "Tell him to fuck off, stay here," Charles presses a burning kiss to your neck. "With me," Another on your collarbone. "In bed, all day." You yelp when Charles pinches your ass and takes advantage of it and hauls you into his lap.
The covers pool around your hips, showing off the marks he left on your stomach and tits in full glory. He loved marking you, always pushing the limits of leaving them on you. "Charles, Pierre can't know about us. I'm his little sister," You whisper and Charles's happy look is replaced with a dark one. "So? You're not his, you're mine." You feel your heart shudder at the words.
Charles was constantly there, rolling off Pierre's questions on why he was always around you when you were with him or the other drivers. Charles stepping between you and the others, acting like he was innocent and that it wasn't on purpose.
The only time he was almost caught was when he tripped Lando who tried to hit on you. Everyone was shocked that Charles would do that, but those eyes and lips quickly got him out of any trouble. "Charlie," You don't get to finish your sentence when the door is opened and your alarm chirps with the notification.
"Fuck!" You curse and quickly throw something on and bolt out of your bedroom, tripping over Charles's shoes. Your eyes grow wide and toss them back into the room and turn smiling brightly at your brother.
"What are you wearing? I know we live in France but that's a bit," You scuff at Pierre and toss a pillow at him. "Fuck off, I was just about to get into the shower. Besides, how'd you get in?" You hope to god Charles was getting dressed and climbing down your building. But you knew the smug bastard would try anything to get caught.
"I have a key, also it's Monday time for brunch." Pierre tosses himself on the sofa. Your eyes grow wide, seeing Charles's Ferrari keys right on the coffee table. Moving quickly you slide onto the table and sit on the keys. "I know, but you ever heard of privacy?" You snark.
Pierre shrugs his shoulders, not caring one bit. "So? You're my sister, besides you're late." Looking at the clock you choke on your spit seeing how it was well past the time you were supposed to meet Pierre.
"Oh, let me go get dressed." Pierre nods and turns on the TV as you quickly grab the keys and rush to your bedroom. And there he is, still lying naked on your bed with a smirk on his lips. "Charles," You hiss silently locking the door. "Get dressed and out," You whine and the smirk slides away. "Why?" "Because Pierre can't know just yet." You plead tossing his clothes at him.
Charles scuffs and moves getting dressed and slides on his shoes. "You're mine, I want everyone to know." He breathes, kissing you on the forehead. "Soon, just not now." Charles opens your window and climbs out of it, long gone is his angelic face, the one of a fallen angel now. "I love you," Charles kisses you deeply biting your lip and drawing some blood. "Also, my shirt looks fucking great on you," The window closes leaving you in silence before your whine into your pillow
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chaussetteblanche · 3 months
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AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️
hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3
I hate you
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pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound
Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 
When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 
The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 
So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 
You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 
Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.
And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 
"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."
The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.
"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.
You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.
You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.
"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.
"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."
Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."
You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."
Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."
"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."
Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.
"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.
"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.
"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.
Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.
His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.
"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."
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breadbrobin · 3 months
Text
lavender roses
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
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[fem!daughter of persephone reader]
summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.
warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers
word count: 3.3k
(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)
(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)
———————————————
“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.
you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.
he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”
you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?
either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”
“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.
the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”
if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.
what the fuck. why would you say that?
chris was staring at you in shock.
your mouth was dry.
and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”
when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.
chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”
“i have no idea,” you breathed.
“do you think he knows?”
your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”
valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.
you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.
he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”
you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.
you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.
your arrow barely hit the target.
luke winced. “that was… better.”
you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”
he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”
“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”
“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.
you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.
“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.
“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.
“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.
you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.
he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.
you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.
“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”
you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.
your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.
luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”
your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”
he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”
then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.
february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.
but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.
“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.
you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.
“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”
“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.
“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?
you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”
“at two?”
“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.
his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”
“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.
at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.
your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.
even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.
she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”
you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.
she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”
“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.
you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.
then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”
you sat up. “what?”
“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.
you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.
you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.
holy shit.
becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”
you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”
she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”
as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.
“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”
“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”
“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”
you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.
it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.
you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.
luke was no where to be found.
great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.
just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.
“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”
he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.
shit. that would make things more difficult.
“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”
“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.
gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“
“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”
your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.
but he led you past the fields and into the forest.
great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.
you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.
you knew where you were going.
there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.
you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.
he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.
you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.
you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”
“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.
“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.
luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.
finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.
as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.
you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.
you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.
and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.
you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.
“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”
“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”
his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“
“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“
“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”
you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”
“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”
“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”
“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”
“you, what?”
he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”
you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”
“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.
“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”
he didn’t.
soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.
“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.
“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.
you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.
the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.
fucking hell.
you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.
the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.
he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.
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Text
ateez as royals who fall for you (maknae line)
read hyung line here
genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes
length: 11.3k
c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)
a/n: as much as writing royals was tricky, it's kind of 🤢 sad 🤢 to see this au end. that being said nobody ask me for a pt 2 pls i need to recover from the trauma LMAOO and as always, huge thank you to the queen of royal au's herself @sorryimananti-romantic for helping me finish the fic and for teaching me how to make moodboards using something that is *not* word doc :')
san
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pov: you're forbidden lovers
“shh,” san hushes you with a teasing curl of his fingers that are buried inside you. “wouldn’t want everyone outside to know what a dirty little slut the princess is, do you?”
his other hand covers your mouth, stifling the breathy moans and desperate whines that escape your lips as you sit in between his legs, naked and pressed back to lean against his chest
there is the sound of water splashing over the edge of the bathtub when san hooks his feet around your inner ankles so that he can spread your legs wider for him
he presses the palm of his hand harshly against your clit and your back arches with a muffled worship of his name
“or maybe you like that,” he teases “you like the idea of people knowing how good i make you feel with my fingers”
san removes his hand from your mouth and lowers it to pinch your nipple, smirking against your neck as you babble incoherently
he coos as he adds yet another finger into you, “imagine that, everyone knows you as the princess who loves being fucked dumb. and by one of her servants, no less” 
all caution is thrown to wind and you drop your head back to lean against his shoulder, mouth lolling open with unrestrained pleads for more, more, faster as he angles his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you
“cum, princess” he demands
you grip bruises onto san’s thighs and arms when the pace of his fingers doesn’t relent even after your orgasm has washed over you
his arms tighten around you as his thighs flex to keep you still in his hold
you let out a choked sob from the overstimulation, teetering between pain and pleasure
“give me one more, i know you can do it,” he coaxes
the hand that has been fondling your breasts snakes down to rub your clit
with his fingers knuckle-deep inside of your pussy and his other hand playing relentlessly with your sensitive clit, the scale tips over and your vision blurs as another wave of pleasure hits you, more intense than the first one
“princess?” and then a knock. “are you okay?”
san slowly draws out the remainder of your orgasm with lazy thrusts of his finger into you
you just know he’s enjoying himself when you have to hide the shakiness in your voice to answer back to your maid outside, “everything’s fine. i’ll be done soon”
“soon?” san smirks, lifting you up by the waist to align your folds with his swollen cock. “then we better make this quick”
because you and san do not have the luxury of time, much less the luxury of love
he isn’t just another one of the numerous servants who serve you
he is everything to you despite how taboo it is for a princess and servant to love each other
his insignificance within the palace makes it much easier for him to slip away; for nobody to take notice
but at the same time, his insignificance is the whole reason why you two must be secretive in the first place
you make sure san has safely snuck out of the bathroom before you finally exit the bathtub and stand on unsteady legs
you allow your maids to come in and help you into the elaborate attire you are to wear for the afternoon
your parents have informed you that you are going to have visitors, thus requiring you to look your best
without much time left until the appointed meeting due to your…escapade, you make your way to the great hall, catching a glimpse of san’s dimpled smile from amongst the other body servants and waiting staff in the room
you have only just settled into your seat next to the king and queen when the guard outside the doors announces the arrival of your guests - the monarchs from the neodonian kingdom
schooling your expression to one of neutrality, you watch as they enter
and then you realise it isn’t just the neodonian king and queen who have come to visit
but the prince as well
he is undeniably handsome and pleasing to the eye with his sleekly gelled hair, chiseled features and tall, sturdy build
the young prince catches you looking at him and breaks out into a friendly smile and-
oh
he has dimples too
the king garners everyone’s attention with a clear of his throat, before he welcomes the monarchs
prince jaehyun, you learn his name is
“after much discussion between ourselves and king jeong and queen jeong, we are pleased to announce our desire for closer relations between our kingdoms,” your father starts, booming voice resounding within the hall
you can’t stop yourself from looking over at him as he speaks with purpose, a strange niggling feeling starting to twist your stomach
the tight smile that your mother passes you from your father’s other side does little to settle your nerves
“as such,” the king continues, “we shall look forward to the engagement between my daughter and prince jaehyun”
there is a roaring sound in your ears, as if you have been pushed to stand under a raging waterfall
engagement
the engagement
you
prince jaehyun
the engagement between you and prince jaehyun
it takes everything in your body not to bolt up from your seat
your hands grip the armrests of your seat with a grasp so tight you are certain you will leave a permanent imprint of your agony
instead, you look around frantically for the one person your instincts are screaming for
where is san?
you are afraid to see how much this is going to hurt him
you are desperate to tell him that you had no idea about this
you are aching to press confessions of love and reassurance against his lips
but just like the insignificance of his status, san is nowhere to be seen
over the two years that you and san have been in your secret relationship, he has gained extensive knowledge of which particular tasks allow him a greater chance of seeing you, which corridors reach you the quickest, and which times during your schedule you have a break
never would you have thought he would use this knowledge to avoid you
it continues like that for the weeks following the announcement
you have no choice but to spend time with your future fiance when your father tells you very clearly to “ensure the prince feels at home”
prince jaehyun is warm and you find yourself getting along with him like you two are friends, but that is it - there are no sparks brighter than friendship
when you spend time with him, you cannot help but compare him to san; san would’ve said this, san would’ve done that, san, san, san
jaehyun engages you in conversation, easily filling in the gaps and lulls with little comments here and there, equipped with a charming laugh and deep dimples
but it only reminds you of san’s dimples and crescent eyes when you two would race through corridors, fingers tightly interwoven as you both run away to a secluded area with hushed giggles
jaehyun points out that neither of you like mushrooms during a dinner and helps nudge the servings on both of your plates to one side
the smile as you say “thank you” does not fully grace your lips because you think about san, who boasts that he will eat all the mushrooms in the world so that you never have to lay eyes on one ever again
jaehyun offers a soft yet sturdy hand to help you down the stairs or when he notices you are walking in heels across an uneven surface
your body recalls san’s rough, calloused hands that leave a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch your bare skin as he worships your body all night long
jaehyun is handsome and he is kind, but he is not san
the night before the king officially announces your engagement with prince jaehyun arrives
and still, you have not had a moment alone with san since he disappeared during that first announcement in the great hall
hurt and longing consume you to the very core
some days it is manageable, a concealed yet incessant thought, like a sticker stuck to the sole of your shoe
other days it wraps around your soul completely like a constrictor tightening as it slowly squeezes the life out of its prey
but you know that you cannot be selfish
what you feel, san feels with an intensity multiplied several times
after all, you are not the one who must stand in the shadows as the love of your life becomes engaged to somebody else, powerless to do anything but watch and poison your own smile with lies
you are lying on your bed when a quick, sharp knock sounds on your bedroom doors
you make no move to acknowledge your visitor, having told your maids very clearly you did not want to be disturbed tonight
your last night as yourself before you become prince jaehyun’s fiance
but then the knocks come a little more urgent, a little more frantic, just like your heartbeat does as it starts to speed up in anticipation
you hold your breath as you hurry to pull open the doors-
and there he is
“san-”
he swallows the rest of your words in a desperate kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as he walks you backwards so that he can step into your room
he tilts your head and slots his lips against yours again while he nudges your door closed with his foot
it isn’t until you let out a whine as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip that he pulls back to finally look at you, both of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones
you grip the front of his linen shirt, afraid that he will disappear as soon as you let go
“san, i- i had no idea, i didn’t agree to any of this”
he shushes you gently, a painful smile adorning his handsome face
“i know. i know, so please don’t cry, love,” he murmurs softly
you don’t even realise the weeks of suppressed emotions have started making their way down your face in salty trails until san uses the back of his fingers to tenderly brush them away
“i’m getting engaged tomorrow, san,” your voice breaks as reality settles in
you are so afraid
you are so lost
above all, you are so in love with san
“i know,” he reassures again, “but until tomorrow, you are still mine”
and so you spend your last night together
time has always been precious; conversations, kisses and touches rushed and with fervour
but tonight, san takes his time with you
he lays on your bed with you cradled on top of him, limbs tangled together as he savours the taste of your lips against his
he turns you onto your back as he slowly undresses you, leaving tattoos of his love each time he bares another part of your body
he pleasures you with his fingers whilst whispering into your ears, creating a harmony with his praises and the melodious moans that leave your lips
and as he brings you both to your highs numerous times throughout the night like an ingrained dance routine, it is accompanied with confessions of i love you
san holds you against his chest under your blankets so tightly that you cannot tell where your body ends and his body starts
before you drift off, safe and protected in his arms, he murmurs against your temple, “no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what happens in the future, my heart will always be yours”
“as will mine”
you wake up the next morning to an empty bed and an equally empty heart
restless and drowning in a mix of emotions, you pace the empty corridors of the guest bedchambers
which is where jaehyun finds you as he exits his room
he is surprised but is quick to greet you kindly, “good morning, princess. what are you doing here?”
you pause mid-step
what are you doing?
“prince jaehyun,” you let the words come out of you before you can regret them. “can we talk for a moment?”
he nods, entering his room again as he pulls the door open wider for you to follow
jaehyun closes the door and then offers you a seat on his sofa, before pulling up his own chair and settling a respectful distance away from you
“i hope you don’t feel uncomfortable in my room,” he explains, “i thought that we would be less likely to be disturbed in here…considering most people know of our engagement today”
“actually, i wanted to talk to you about that”
“go on,” he encourages you with a dimpled smile
you take a deep breath
“i’m sorry,” you blurt out
and then you are admitting to the prince that he is lovely and charming and caring, but you just don’t see it working out with him
you don’t want to get engaged with him
because your heart already belongs to somebody else
“good”
“i’m so sorry, i should have been honest with you from the start but- wait, what?” you look up from where you have been nervously picking at your cuticles
jaehyun is smiling at you - a genuine smile that you did not know he had
“i’m actually relieved to hear that, princess,” he admits. “because i…also have someone that i love back home”
and for the first time, you and jaehyun truly see each other in the same light
“who is it?” he asks
“his name is san,” and then you add on, “he has dimples just like you do” 
you ask him the same question
you see the way jaehyun’s expression softens with love from just the mere thought of the other
it makes you wonder whether you have the same look on your face when you mention san
jaehyun jokes, “want to be the one who tells your father we’re calling off the engagement? i don’t fancy getting executed today”
but despite what he says, mere hours later, when you are both standing in the great hall before your parents - the kings and queens of both your kingdoms - he is the one to speak up
“your majesty, we have decided to part ways peacefully and would not like to proceed with the engagement. our kingdom will always be your ally, regardless of marital relations or not”
“what?” you see veins starting to appear across the king’s forehead as he tries to maintain his temper, but the queen and the jeong monarchs seem to be taking the news much better
disappointed, perhaps, but understanding
the queen leans closer to remind the king that they had all agreed to this engagement on the terms that the decision would ultimately be yours and jaehyun’s
you suddenly speak up because this may be the only time you have the courage to
“i have one more thing to say,” you declare. “i revoke my noble status and thus declare nullified all the privileges, rules and traditions that come with nobility. i have someone i love and i wish to marry them as myself, not as the kingdom’s princess”
the king roars furiously, “that is enough! leave!” and he slams his hand against the throne’s armrest
shocked and betrayed by your father’s reaction, you rush out of the great hall with tears welling in your eyes
only to run straight into the waiting arms of san
“oh, princess,” he murmurs against the crown of your head as he engulfs you in his embrace
he doesn’t have to say anything for you to realise that he has heard the whole conversation
but you do not care about anything anymore
you are where you want to be, held by who you want to be with
“how are you here?” you sniffle
“jaehyun approached me earlier. i thought i was going to get beat up,” san’s attempt to make you smile is successful
when you lift your head up to look at him, you realise his eyes are wet as well
then you feel his body stiffen as his eyes shift to focus on something behind you
someone
he immediately steps away from you, bowing deeply as he greets the queen
you turn around to see her face adorning an endearing smile
“it’s fine, sannie,” she says, and you are not sure whether you and san are more surprised by the fact that she knows him by name or by the affectionate nickname she has used
“i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” he flusters
she thanks him with a teasing remark, “i won’t keep her away from you for very long”
san waits further down the corridor, back turned to give you two a moment of privacy
and then she is stroking your hair affectionately
“i am so proud of you. you’ve grown up so well and you are so brave,” she says
you don’t understand
you ask, “why aren’t you angry?”
“oh, baby,” she fondly runs her fingers through your hair, just like she used to when you were younger. “before my duties as the queen to my people, i am the mother to my daughter. i love you and all i want is for you to be happy”
your lips tremble with emotion as your mother pulls you into a hug
“does sannie make you happy, dear?”
you nod, “the happiest”
“then that is all i want. now go,” she takes a hold of your shoulders and gently turns you in the direction of san. “i’ll talk to your father”
with one last encouraging squeeze, you race down the corridor towards san
he hears your footsteps and has already turned around with open arms waiting to catch you
you hear him let out an oomph! with how hard you throw yourself into him, but he is then swaying your bodies side to side
san pulls back slightly with an incredulous look. “does this mean we can be together? together together?” 
“i goddamn hope so because i gave up my princess privileges for you. no more carriages, no more assorted sweet delicacies, no more daily massages-” you fold down your fingers as you continue listing things off
he cuts you off with a tickle to your sides as he says, “that’s easy to sort out”
“first, you’ll still be my princess,” he unfurls one of your fingers so it stands upright again
“second, i’ll carry you myself so that you never need to use your feet again,” he unfurls another finger
“i’ll give you a treat whenever you want,” he kisses your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip with a teasing tug
“and, dear princess,” he pulls you flush against his body and you have to steady yourself on his chest to avoid tripping over, “i can give you hourly massages…”
smirking, he starts to lower his head to suck pretty marks onto your neck as he whispers in a low voice, “...if you can keep up”
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mingi
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pov: you're the prince's maid
for what you are about to do, you could very well be executed should somebody catch you
but desperate times call for desperate measures
and there’s no guarantee that you and all the other staff will not be executed anyway…
not with what has just happened in the palace
you push the door closed behind you with a soft click, using the brief changeover of guards to slip inside the bedroom of the youngest prince, unnoticed
you call out softly but urgently, “prince mingi”
when you hear him groggily murmur, starting to bubble towards the surface of consciousness, you dare to give his shoulder a rough shake
“prince mingi, please wake up”
his eyes flutter open, confusion starting to clear the fogginess in his head as he struggles to comprehend the sight of your face hovering inches from his, deep into the hours of the night
“w-what’s going on?” he clears his husky voice, “are you okay?”
you wish you could reach out and smooth the wrinkles of concern from his forehead
reassure him that everything will be okay until he falls back asleep
but there is no time
“the crown prince is dead and we must leave. now.”
the effect is immediate, like you have just driven a knife into his chest
although you suppose it must not feel very different for prince mingi right now
“the crown prince is d-” the word tastes vile on his tongue, so he asks after his second oldest brother instead. “what about prince eun?”
you must drive the knife into him once more
“he was the one who murdered the crown prince, but he has framed you for the murder. there is no time, prince mingi, we must leave now”
“the court will find me innocent,” yet he lets you tug him out of his bed
you hastily help prince mingi into a dark brown robe while you shake your head, “not when your inscribed sword is currently covered in the crown prince’s blood. we do not know who is secretly working for prince eun. until we know for sure, we do not stand a chance of clearing your name”
he knows that you’re right, even if his heart is hoping that you are wrong
the prince slides his hand into the gap between his bed and wall, pulling out a spare sword and wrapping the belt around his waist
eyes sweeping across his chamber one final time, he locks eyes with you grimly before turning to flee
you follow the prince through a back passageway - it’s not entirely a secret and it won’t be long before the royal guards come for the prince, discover his empty bedroom and give chase
but it is long enough to give you two a head start
he helps you up onto the back of his personal horse before he swings himself up easily onto the saddle behind you
with a nudge of his feet, the prince sends the horse into a gallop
you startle with a yelp, having never ridden a horse before, much less one at this pace
prince mingi presses himself a little closer to you and slots his chest against your back as he leans forward to guide your hands to hold the reins with his
“here,” he murmurs, “just follow me”
he shifts one hand to settle on your waist, guiding your body into a comfortable rhythm that dances in sync with the horse’s movements and his own
when he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it, the prince places his hand back on the reins, yet he stays close, keeping you safely encased within his arms to prevent you from falling off
you’re not sure how long you two ride for
but at some point the prince slows the horse to a canter
with the slower sway of the steed, the steady clack of hooves against the forest floor, and the warmth of the prince around you, you drift off to his whispered, “sleep, i’ve got you”
you wake up to find yourself on a scratchy pile of leaves
the events of last night piece themselves together when you spot prince mingi, still adorning his deep blue silk pajamas, leaning against a tree a few feet away
it would have been a sight to see if not for the fact that-
“what are we going to do now?” you sit up, and the prince’s robe, you now register, falls from around your body
the prince gives you a warm smile as you rub the sleep from your eyes with fisted hands
“we’ll head into halsburg. the town is small enough the news should not have traveled that far yet. we’ll replenish some supplies and go from there”
it’s unspoken
the fact that there is no solid plan from there
even if the two of you have managed to escape the royal guards, for how long can you two run?
plus, it will be impossibly difficult to find evidence while on the run, when the answers are within the castle walls themselves
but you push those thoughts aside as you two enter halsburg, the prince’s hood pulled up over his face
you do the bulk of the purchases, less likely to be recognised by the townspeople
it’s mainly food and water for yourself, the prince, and his horse, and a simple tunic to replace his royal pajamas - something you have been teasing him about since you woke up
later that night, hours away from the outskirts of halsburg, you two settle for a couple hours of rest
a small fire crackles away to the song of the cicadas, an occasional pop as the licks of flames cast shadows across your faces
you glance at the prince sitting across from you, who is idly fiddling with his pajama top
specifically, the royal crest of the song family embroidered onto its front pocket
your heart clenches painfully, knowing the death of a family member is hard enough to process without the additional weight of being framed for murder, much less by your own brother who is the real culprit
“prince mingi…” you start, voice low
he glances up at you, eyes softening as he curves his lips up into a small smile, “i’m okay.”
you hesitate for a split second before letting the clench in your gut pull you to your feet, and you shuffle to settle back down in front of the fire, except this time beside the prince
all the while his eyes never leave you, not even when you nudge his shoulder softly and say,
“you don’t have to be strong. not in front of me…”
and he knows
because despite the differences in your social statuses, you are the person he trusts the most
you, the girl who used to trip over the lengths of his robes that you carried, now a woman who holds herself righteously and bravely
you, who chose to risk your own life from the moment you woke him up in his chambers
you, who is still risking your life to flee with him
“only if you stop calling me prince,” he jokingly nudges you back, attempting to make the atmosphere lighter despite the wetness that is starting to paint his eyes. “with you, i am just mingi”
“okay, prince mingi,” you tease
yet, you still extend a hand out to him, palm upturned in a silent invitation for comfort should he wish to seek it, because you can tell that he isn’t quite ready to seek it verbally
mingi laces his larger fingers through yours, tucking your interlocked hands closer to his body as he draws his knees up so that he can rest his chin upon them
mingi thinks that he feels numb more than anything, but he finds he isn’t as surprised as one would expect him to be
perhaps he always knew of his middle brother’s thirst for the throne 
he just never thought it would be enough to spill blood
for now though, he lets himself be distracted by your thumb tracing mindless patterns against his knuckles
he lets himself relish in the heat radiating from your side that seems to warm him from inside out, even as the embers of the fire slowly lose their glow and die out with the darkening night
the days start to repeat themselves
you two cover as much distance as you can while sparing what time you can afford for yourselves and mingi’s horse to rest
mingi has decided to travel to prince yunho's kingdom, an old and trusted ally who may be able to provide you two with protection while he pulls strings to fight back against prince eun
from his calculations, the journey will take at least another two weeks
and although mingi doesn’t tell you this, deep down he does not know whether you two have two weeks left
the threat of the royal guards catching up hangs over the two of you like a hangman’s noose
neither of you have brought up that night by the fire either
but something has definitely changed in the way you seek comfort and reassurance in each other
as if so long as you have each other, everything will be alright in the end
when you feel him tremble as he sleeps curled around you, restless from a plaguing nightmare, you hush sweet nothings and brush his locks away from his forehead until his breathing steadies out again
and when you’re seated on the saddle in front of him, you now having long grown accustomed to horse riding, he still finds himself resting a comforting hand on you somewhere - your hips, thigh or over your own hand
sometimes when he is laughing softly with you, your arms brushing against each other, you imagine a different story; one where you are worthy of loving him
sometimes when you are tucked into his chest, small exhales escaping your open lips as you sleep, mingi imagines a different story; one where he is able to love you freely
because despite the blood running through his veins that has ultimately led to his downfall, you still look at him as though he has placed the stars in the very sky that you two have spent countless nights under
and although he knows the reality is that he cannot, he tries to write his own story, even if just for tonight
you are lying in his arms, legs tangled together, when the question comes tumbling out of his lips
“will you stay with me, forever?”
he feels you still in his embrace, before you’re pulling back a little to look at him with a chuckle
“you should be asking a princess that, prince mingi, not somebody like me”
“you are a princess in my eyes”
you can’t help the endearing look that crosses over your face as you lightly tap his nose, “you know that is not how it works”
“then we can run away. for i am already as good as dead to my kingdom,” he tells you with boyish determination
“you cannot, mingi. your people need a good prince”
“but what prince would i be if i cannot even boldly love you? the person who is dearest to me?”
under his sincere gaze and the weight of his words, you allow him this moment of solace
because perhaps, you want it just as much as he does
“okay, i’ll be your princess,” you breathe out
“forever?”
“forever”
that night, it is just you and mingi - no titles that separate your world from his, no looming threat of death - just two people in love
even as an uneasy pit settles at the bottom of mingi’s stomach, a growing feeling that gnaws away at him into the early hours of the next morning
he is startled awake, your expression frightened, and he immediately understands when he hears the thunderous chorus of hooves hitting the ground towards you two
mingi had known there was not much time left, but he did not think that the inevitable confrontation would happen this soon, only mere hours after the soft kiss he had pressed against your forehead
the desperate attempt to escape once more is futile, the royal guards closing the distance within minutes
left with no choice but to stop, you and mingi demount and the guards move to flank you both in a wide semicircle
when the head of the guards, prince eun, saunters forward, mingi matches with a stride of his own so that he can step in front of you
“you killed the crown prince, eun,” mingi spits at his brother
“running and denying your actions up until your very last moments, i see,” prince eun laughs condescendingly. “and you even took a little dog with you, too”
mingi presses you closer to his back, hiding you from the leering gaze of his brother
prince eun smiles smugly at mingi’s reaction, before he takes out a scroll and unravels it
“for high treason of the assassination of the crown prince, the king hereby decrees the immediate revocation of nobility of his third son, song mingi, and for the execution of song mingi and his maid upon sighting.”
you press your nose into mingi’s back, taking one last inhale of his familiar scent
the bowmen all take aim as prince eun sneers, “any last words, brother?”
mingi turns around, and all you can see in that moment are his warm eyes and dimpled cheeks
“i love you, my princess,” he proclaims
“forever,” you reply
he brings his lips down to connect them with yours, drowning out the distinct vibration of loosening strings and the hiss of flying arrows with the roaring symphony in your hearts
you’re unsure what pain swallows you whole first - the pain as an arrowhead sinks into your chest, or the pain as you realise that this is the end of your short-lived love with mingi
you struggle to keep the smile on your face as you lock eyes with mingi, trying to memorise the loving gaze that adorns his own face
you see his mouth moving, but the pain exploding throughout your body is too loud for you to make out his words
with your last breath, you gasp out your final confession, “i love you too, mingi. we’ll meet again in the next life”
as the world starts to fade away, cold creeping into your limbs, you hope that in another story, in another lifetime, you and mingi will be able to find each other again
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wooyoung
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pov: you're the princess of a rival kingdom
“absolutely not, advisor lee,” your mother raises her nose in the air
“your highness, i understand but-”
“oh please, do not flatter yourself, queen cho,” queen jung spits out, “you are not the only one who abhors the idea”
you glare at the prince sitting across from you, your own gazes reflecting the tension in the room
advisor lee has suggested that your family and the jung family host a joint royal ball as a grand display of amity between the two neighbouring kingdoms, particularly between the princess - yourself - and their prince - prince wooyoung
there have been spreading rumours in town of the strained relationship between the two royal families
which aren’t entirely untrue
as a child, the two kingdoms have been loyal and steadfast in their alliance and friendship
in fact, it is not uncommon to find you joining prince wooyoung in his kitchen, begging the chefs to let you two lick the spoons
or to find prince wooyoung squatting next to you in your garden as you both look at the ladybugs
but as power imbalances emerge and political agendas start to diverge, a wedge is driven between your families
the relation is now dangerously close to severing completely, but not without the increasing attention of the towns surrounding the two kingdoms
and one of the last things both royal families need is unease and disunity amongst the commoners
which brings advisor lee to look on with exasperation as he tries to do his job - advise
except neither your mother nor queen jung look ready to accept his advice
your father nods slightly at the two of you, “you are dismissed, as are you, prince wooyoung”
you curtsy as the prince takes a slight bow, before you obnoxiously flick your hair over your shoulder and turn away on your heels
you escape to the garden, knowing that the meeting will take at least another hour before you are required to bid the jung family farewell
except, surprise surprise
who do you run into
you narrow your eyes at prince wooyoung as he steps towards you, who has one eyebrow quirked, “a royal ball, he says?”
“absolutely not,” you fold your arms across your chest
“oh please, do not flatter yourself, princess,” he sneers, not dissimilar to the nasally tone his mother had voiced her dissatisfaction earlier with
neither of you back down, daring the other to say something else
before you two break out into giggles, eyes glittering scandalously
“did you see your mother deliberately pass the salt instead of sugar for the tea?”
“and then the face my mother made when she took a sip of it-”
he pulls you to crouch behind an azalea bush as you both chortle like children, out of sight, before he brings you in for a dizzying kiss 
you sigh, resting a hand on his chest
“do you also abhor the idea of dancing with me, prince wooyoung?” a teasing lilt in your voice
“absolutely,” he nods grimly, “why go to all that effort when there is a much grander and longer-lasting solution?”
“and what is that, my prince?”
he sneaks another chaste kiss from your lips, “for me to take your hand in marriage, my princess”
at his words, your smile dampens
“you know that i would say yes in a heartbeat. it is not i who needs convincing, but our parents”
because despite the growing hostility between your two families, the relationship you share with wooyoung has, ironically, blossomed into one of well-concealed adoration, intimacy and love
you two have come to learn that that one slightly lighter stone on the western side of your kingdom’s outer walls comes loose, and is the perfect size for slipping a piece of paper behind it
you two have also come to learn that every fourth week, if you ask your personal tutor enough questions about the plants laid out on the store’s table in front of you during your scheduled lesson in town, you’ll be able to drag it out long enough for you both to just catch a glimpse of each other as he and his escorts cut through the town on their way back to his kingdom
and of course, you two have come to learn the most isolated spots in your own respective kingdoms, like the second stairwell leading down to the cellar in wooyoung’s palace
and amongst the azalea bushes in the back garden in yours
which is exactly how you knew that he would appear, how you knew that he would give you those sweet kisses you have been craving so desperately 
as wooyoung cups your jaw to kiss you once more, one that leaves you wanting to chase his lips forever, he bets you that it’ll only take two weeks of close-quarter meetings between your royal families before one of your mothers blow up and the ball idea falls through completely
in response, you bet him that they won’t even last two weeks - one at the most
except you’re both wrong
the meeting turns into two, followed by several more as the planning goes ahead
sometimes, the meetings are held in the jung palace
other times, their family journeys to your kingdom instead
one thing that stays constant is the malevolence in the air
the parents are sarcastic snipes and saccharine smiles
and on the surface, you and wooyoung are further extensions of your own parents’ simmering loathing for the other
but under the intricately-carved wooden table, you two are playing footsies, jeweled heels and leather shoes engaged in a playful fight
you see how many times you can slide your heels up along his shin, gradually inching closer towards his inner thigh with each coquettish touch
he has you pass him anything and everything under the guise of forgoing the help of the numerous royal butlers and maids around the room to deliberately irritate you
really, it is to accidentally brush his fingers over your hands; to see the pretty shade of rose that settles over your cheeks and ears as you both try not to break out into giggles
and perhaps, during the meals that may take place during the meetings, there have been a couple of peas flicked at each other here and there when no one is paying attention
(unbeknownst to you two, the maids and butlers alike must hide their own endearing smiles)
the weeks turn into months and you practically have a permanent glow radiating from you, now that you have been seeing the prince so frequently
(which also does not go unnoticed)
as you select a necklace from the assortment of choices to emphasise the plunging neckline of your off-shoulder gown, you wonder how the day of the royal ball has arrived so quickly
your personal maid, jihye, carefully fixes the clasp of the necklace around you before stepping back to let you look in the mirror
you smooth a hand over the soft lavender charmeuse of your dress, nervously looking at jihye
“how do i look?”
“stunning, my princess,” she assures you, before adding, “prince wooyoung will definitely love it”
“prin- he- what? i- sorry?” you say unintelligibly, before you try to salvage the situation by tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you laugh her off
but jihye just looks at you knowingly
meanwhile, prince wooyoung is already at the grand hall, the jung family having arrived two days prior for the final preparations of the ball
he and his friends, princes from kingdoms located further up north and towards the east, are lingering around one of the tables decorated with flower arrangements and elaborate candle holders, ignoring the longing glances of other attendees, women and men alike, thrown at their striking posse
wooyoung is trying to keep his gaze subtle, scanning the vast number of people at the ball without craning or turning his head, searching for one particular face
yours
prince yeosang nudges the others, jerking his chin to motion towards the distracted wooyoung
when wooyoung finally realises he isn’t as subtle as he thinks, all his friends are already looking at him with varying degrees of smirks
“just know that if there were not so many people here,” wooyoung begins with a pleasant smile, “i would flip you all off right now”
before he can try stepping on his friends’ toes in the form of petty revenge, prince seonghwa points towards the entrance as his smile grows impossibly wider
“look”
wooyoung turns around
and like any typical man who is head over heels in love, the world around him slows down
the gushing whispers spreading throughout the ballroom fade into the background
because finally, there you are, gracefully stepping past the threshold of the arched doorway in all your alluring beauty, accentuated by the way your curled locks and flowing gown frame your body
for the briefest moment, you lock eyes with him, and wooyoung feels his brain shutting down on him
“you’re going to catch a fly in your mouth, woo”
“pick up your jaw. it’s on the ground”
prince yunho pretends to dab wooyoung’s mouth with the ruffled sleeves of his cream shirt, “you’re drooling, darling”
at that, wooyoung smacks his lips dazedly before coming to a moment of realisation, blinking hard twice to bring himself back to reality
“god, you’re hopeless. just go up and talk to her,” prince hongjoong snickers. “the whole point of this ball is to show off how ‘close’ your families are anyway”
wooyoung grumbles that he knows, he’s just looking for the right timing
which, unfortunately, does not seem to come
you spend what feels like the next two hours being whisked around, feigning polite interest as you are forced to engage in dull and bland conversations with numerous men of differing royal statuses, all of whom are no doubt trying to make an impression on you in hopes of becoming a potential suitor in the future
not that you have eyes for anyone apart from the one who already has your heart
the very same person who is currently fed up with watching you converse and let your hands be kissed by men who are not him
even if he knows you are pretending, he thinks that you sure are damn good at giggling at all the right times
you are trying not to let your smile turn into a grimace as the older-aged man, lord ryu you think, boasts of his wealth to you, when wooyoung enters your peripheral vision
“princess, lord ryu,” he greets you both, before looking down at the latter, “pardon me as i take the princess for a dance”
lord ryu, visibly irked but unable to say anything to the prince of significantly higher status, lets go of your hand to step back into a bow, “of course, prince wooyoung”
you giggle, this time genuinely, as wooyoung takes your hand to gently lead you towards the center of the ballroom, where several others are starting to waltz to the soft music that is now playing
you rest a hand just below his shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, as he places his other hand to settle on the dip of your waist
a little possessively, you might add
“you look beautiful today,” he murmurs lowly, away from any prying ears
“only today?” you quirk an eyebrow teasingly
his voice drops down an octave, “well it’s not every day that i can tell you, princess”
wooyoung’s eyes flicker down hungrily to look at your lips
you run your tongue slowly over your bottom lip, knowing it will drive him absolutely crazy that he cannot just take you right there and then in front of everybody
and you can see the moment his resolve snaps
“meet me for some fresh air in ten,” bringing his lips as close to the shell of your ear as he dares
and then he’s gone
you become progressively antsy as you wait out a generous amount of time after he leaves for you to also slip away from the ballroom
wooyoung pins you against a pillar as soon as you emerge in the garden, aching to kiss you and fight for dominance until you’re both breathless and light-headed
“you don’t know how desperately i wanted to kiss you in front of everyone - let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he nips at your bottom lip
you rest your hands on his chest, fingers curled around the pleated front of his satin shirt to hold yourself steady as he turns your lips into an artwork of swollen cherry reds
he tilts your head back a little more, your mouths moving in tandem, soft moans drawn out of you, when-
“what in god’s name is going on?”
you and wooyoung startle apart at the shriek
the blush dusting your faces pale almost immediately at the sight of not just your mother, but also queen jung and a few of the royal staff
it’s kind of amusing that of all things for the two queens to have the same mindset about, it is the discovery of you and wooyoung’s secret relationship that unites them, both sharing twin expressions of horror and revulsion
you’re ripped from each other’s arms as you are forced back into the confines of your bed chamber, royal ball long forgotten
your only solace is learned later that night, when jihye brings a trolley of food you have no appetite for, that the jung family have not yet returned to their kingdom
they are still in your palace somewhere
yet that does little to soothe your tears, overwhelmed by the drastic turn of events, and you do not know when you fall asleep that night
all you know is that it is to a bed too cold and a longing in your heart too gaping to ignore
“princess,” you look up to see jihye standing at your door the next morning, almost apologetic, “the king and queen request for your presence in the throne room”
as you approach the room after tidying your appearance, your breath hitches when you spot him just by the double doors
you barrel forwards into his waiting arms, uncaring of the staff following behind you
not that they have the heart to stop you either way
“i thought you would have been forced to leave,” you blurt, unable to believe that wooyoung is right in front of you
“i’m still here,” he chuckles. “i have been summoned by your parents”
your heart drops down to your stomach at his words as you realise what this meeting is about
“and i am glad they did, princess,” wooyoung is quick to interject before your apology makes it past the tip of your tongue. “i am going to ask for your hand in marriage. officially”
“what if they banish us from ever seeing each other again?” worry overwhelms you as your breathing quickens
wooyoung gently laces his fingers through yours, bringing up his other hand to cup your face and run his thumb comfortingly over the curve of your cheekbone to keep you grounded
“no matter what happens today, no matter what the outcome is,” he looks at you with the fierce determination of a man ready to give up anything and everything for your sake, “i will never ever stop fighting for you”
he presses his soft lips against yours
“for us,” he vows
your breathing evens out, and while your heartbeat still pounds inside your ribcage, you know that it marches in rhythm with the man in front of you
this time, not afraid to appear in front of the rulers of your kingdoms - your parents - you and wooyoung nod in reassurance at each other once more, hand in hand, before you both push the doors to the throne room open
together.
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jongho
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pov: you're under his protection as your royal guard
over the din of volunteered names in the meeting room, jongho steps forward
“your majesty, i will accompany the princess,” he declares
“choi jongho?” your father scans him up and down with regard before nodding in approval, “it is decided then”
“him? surely i need another person with me as well?” you protest
your father quirks an eyebrow at you, a subtle reminder that whilst he is your father, he is also the king
“no, you will need to travel in disguise and stay as discreet as possible. only jongho will accompany you as your royal guard”
your father looks away and starts to address the next item on the meeting agenda; it is quite clear there is no room for argument
meanwhile, jongho sidles up to you
“you trying to catch bugs or something? close your mouth, princess,” he teases under his breath
you nudge him with an elbow, “you’re the only bug i see around here”
he rolls his eyes but you both snicker in unison when one of your older sisters turns around to shush you with a dirty look
regardless, you stay silent for the rest of the meeting
you’re not sure why jongho stepped forward to take on this task
because for someone who is your main royal guard and is supposed to be loyal and obedient, he sure makes it clear that his job is about as gratifying as babysitting
(“you can’t talk to me like that. i’m the princess”)
(“no, you’re not. you’re an idiot”)
in fact, when you had been notified a few days prior that you would be traveling with one other royal guard - who had yet to be decided at the time - jongho had spent every single day gloating that he would finally get a break from babysitting you
and yet here he is
with the opportunity to hand you off to somebody else
but instead, baring his teeth at the other guards who offer themselves up for this scouting mission
he would never admit to it either, but jongho personally spoke to the king years ago about being rostered on as your main bodyguard since he’s “known the princess for the longest and so i can protect her the best”
you don’t want to travel to the border
you’re in charge of maintaining security and defense along your borders and with neighbouring kingdoms, usually dealing with complications remotely through the ministers and advisors who work for you
this time though, there has been recent unrest near the southern borders of your kingdom near denport, a city notorious for bandits and fugitives
the situation has worsened with increased risk of bloodshed, thus has the need for you to survey the borders in person
and as the youngest sibling of five, the king has made it very clear that this is your opportunity to prove your capabilities
jongho makes sure to remind you of this fact when you grumble your way through packing a satchel of essential items to take with you
(“your fluffy slippers are not essential, princess”)
(you listen and throw them back onto the floor of your bedchambers, but stuff in a few paperweights when he isn’t looking out of petty revenge because you know he’ll end up carrying your bag for you later when you ask him to)
it’s a relatively long journey to denport, so as soon as you are ready, jongho having long finished packing his own bag, you leave your kingdom with him at your side
by the time the sun is starting to set later that day, you’re passing through a small town
he suggests calling it a night and recuperating at one of the inns
you wait while he inquires about available rooms and then follow him through a small alleyway to the inn that he has chosen for the night
you take all but one look at the rotting wood and creaking sign at the entrance before you are crossing your arms like a petulant child
“there’s no way i’m staying the night in this sorry excuse of an inn”
he merely blinks
“you’re technically not the princess right now so you better listen to me or god help me, i’ll-”
“you’ll what,” you challenge, nose-to-nose
or nose-to-throat, you suppose
but before you can dwell any further on your height difference, jongho picks you up, slings you over his shoulder like you are nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and walks into the inn without a care in the world that you are screaming bloody murder
you resign to your fate and flop uselessly against his back as he carries you up the stairs
instead, when he throws you onto the bed upon entering the room, you look up at him sultrily and smirk, “ooh, now i’m turned on”
jongho shakes his head with exasperation but you don’t miss the redness that is creeping up the back of his neck as he turns around to close the door shut
“wait,” you sit up on the bed, “we’re sharing a room?”
“it’s safer. i’ll sleep on the sofa”
you scrunch your nose at the arrangement, but you do admittedly feel a little more at ease in the unfamiliar room of the inn
you start to take a shoe off before a thought flits through your mind and you point the shoe in your hand at him like a weapon, “you better not snore”
jongho rolls his eyes as he steps forward to take the shoe out of your hand, and then he is bending down to help slip off the shoe from your other foot
a thank you lies on the tip of your tongue
“you’re the only snorer in this room, princess”
nevermind.
it’s gone.
you’re settled in bed, waiting for jongho to finish washing up and turn off the lights, when you spot it
holy shit
your immediate reaction is to seek his protection
“jongho!”
the door to the bathroom swings open almost immediately as he rushes out, eyes alarmed, alert, and zeroing onto you
water drips off the ends of his hair and you can still spot suds on his exposed torso
“what’s wrong? are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice is laced with restrained panic
you point to the corner of the room and then he sees it too
his body stiffens completely
because, mere metres from the two of you, presence sinister and dangerous…
is a fucking spider
all is quiet and still for a while, your eyes flickering back and forth between your royal guard and the spider in a tense standoff
then, just as you are about to speak up, jongho grabs his bag and swiftly turns on his heels to head towards the room’s door
“where are you going?!” you shriek
he looks at you forlornly from over his shoulder, “to prepare for my execution”
“what the fuck are you on about, jongho?”
“for abandoning my duties and failing to protect you. farewell, princess. you are on your own from here-”
his sentence is cut short as the spider scuttles towards him
and that is how you two, disguised, but still a royal princess and royal guard no less, are given an eviction warning because he streaked through the corridors of the inn half naked and screaming at the top of his lungs
needless to say, the innkeeper ends up having to remove the spider for the two of you
“you’re so embarrassing,” you whisper to him once you two are finally settled in bed and on the sofa
“no, i’m jongho,” he cackles
you don’t humour him with a response, but you know he snickers himself to sleep that night
you can’t help but let the corner of your lips tug up as well
a few days later after leaving the town, you two are resting side by side against a tree trunk when you decide to grace jongho with the opportunity to redeem himself
he’s currently halving a sandwich so you two can share
“if i were trapped in a forest full of spiders and you were the only person who could save me,” you ask gravely, “what would you do?”
without missing a beat, he replies, “prepare to grieve your death and make sure your pet cat is well fed in your honour”
he passes you the bigger sandwich as you turn to look at him with the most scandalised expression
“can you at least pretend to think for a bit?” you grumble
there’s a hint of a smile on jongho’s face when he apologises, “okay, sorry. ask me again”
you hit him with a different scenario this time
“if you had to fight a giant spider who had taken me hostage, what would you do?”
he hums thoughtfully for a few seconds, unscrewing a canteen of water for you and placing it by your side
“i would say, she is all yours, your spidery majesty, and then i would bow and walk away”
“fuck you,” you shove him good-naturedly with your shoulder
he swipes the canteen before you can knock it over and presses it into your smaller hand instead, giving it a quick pat as he dismisses your insult, “sure, if you think you can handle my dick”
“like they say,” you waggle your eyebrows at him as your voice drops down lower, “practice makes perfect”
jongho’s stoic facade finally cracks when you lean in closer and he hurries to stand up and put some distance between you and him
he shifts his legs subtly, clearing his throat to say, “we should go, denport is close”
when you’ve finished off the last of your sandwich, you dust off your fingers and grab jongho’s offered hand to stand up too
“let’s go”
one thing you have both noticed is that the closer you get to the border between your kingdom and denport, the quieter and thicker the atmosphere seems to get
the small towns you pass through have less people roaming around; in fact, most people seem to flee back into the refuge of their own houses, locking their doors and closing their windows when they catch sight of your pair
and then it happens
your plan goes awry
you and jongho are harshly awoken by a commotion outside the small room you have rented for the night
there’s a sickening smell accompanied by wails of grief in the air
when you rush outside, all you can see is a huge crowd of people gathered and your ears strain to pick up on the broken hushes of information being thrown around
“his son is lucky to have been spared”
“lucky to have seen his father slaughtered by bandits?”
“i heard it wasn’t money that they were after, though”
“those damned denport devils are up to something”
that’s all you pick up on before jongho snatches your arm and leads you back into the inn, telling you that it’s too dangerous to be out there; too dangerous for you two to continue traveling
which leads to the very first argument you ever have with him
you two butt heads all the time with your own fiery fronts and hardheadedness but more often than not, he yields to you
you’re facing him in the dim room - it is shadier than that first inn you two made a stop at weeks ago, but you’re both sharing one room just like you two have done at every single inn since
“we need to go check it out!” you shout at him
jongho takes a shaky breath as he tries to keep his voice even, “no, we should go back to our kingdom, report on the situation and call for backup!”
you throw your hands up into the air, “we’re already here - we’re basically at denport! what if something blows up soon? it might be too late by the time we go back”
jongho steps in closer as his eyes narrow
you don’t cower because you know he would never hurt you, but you do step backwards because you don’t think you can keep a clear head when he is standing so close to you, proximity dizzying like the buzz of alcohol
“of all times for you to play hero and do something that you weren’t asked to, why now? why put yourself in danger?”
your back hits the wall as jongho corners you
your chest heaves, as does his, both of you overwhelmed with emotions
he holds your gaze but his eyes are rounded with agony and distress
you don’t understand why he is so against your decision
you don’t know what to say, until your eyes flicker down involuntarily at the movement of his lips parting to exhale-
“damn, jongho, your lips are real chapped. you should use some of my lip balm”
he blinks hard at the absurdity of what you chose to say
he looks at your lips
he makes a decision
“then give me some of yours,” he says, a little breathless
and then he’s pressing his chapped lips against your smooth ones, the taste of coconut filling your mouth as your lip balm smears
suddenly, he pulls back with the audacity to look shocked as if you are the one who kissed him
and then he leaves the room without another word
he doesn’t return that night and you don’t manage to sleep either
you wonder when you started becoming used to falling asleep with him in the same room
jongho clears his throat awkwardly when you open the door in the morning and find him leaning against the wall just by the doorframe
you’re not sure whether he came back not too long ago from god knows where, or whether he was actually standing guard outside all night
you think you know which one it is, even if he doesn’t confirm it
“we’re checking out,” he mumbles, shuffling briskly into the room to grab his few belongings he had left and exiting the room again with you trailing behind
neither of you say much more to each other
you think that he’s going to lead you back the way you two came, lead you back and undo the weeks’ worth of journeying and go back to the castle
but then he’s sighing, deep and burdened, and he gently takes your hand to continue on towards denport
he’s never held your hand before
not like this, at least, tenderly tugging you along with every step so that you are no more than a few inches away from his side
you want to bicker with him and chortle together like usual but you keep quiet, giving him the space that he appears to need even if he is physically ensuring you are tucked right into his side
you two walk until the sun has dipped below the horizon
from what you know, you are right along the southern border and denport will only be another half day’s walk away
jongho makes a small bonfire before he joins you to lean against a fallen log
he shimmies off his coat and drapes it over your legs and then the forest also settles into silence along with you both
it’s now or never
“why are you so against us going to the border?” you ask him
he runs his fingers through his hair
an unruly tuft of hair stays upright and you fold your arms to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothening it for him
he looks at you as he says, “i’m fine with me going to the border, it’s you i’m not fine with. you do remember that i’m your royal guard, right”
“is that all there is to your reason,” you push, “that you’re my guard?”
you both know you’re referring to more than just the argument itself
jongho’s gaze breaks away, looking ahead at the flames of the fire instead
he is silent
for once, jongho is unarmed; no immediate snark or teasing remark to toss back at you
you hear him swallow and take a breath
“i…i don’t know,” he starts. “all i know is that with each passing day, the more i want to keep you safe”
jongho looks at you again, eyebrows drawn down ever so slightly
“why do you make me feel so worried?”
at his words, your heart clenches in an unfamiliar way and you attempt to lighten the mood, “maybe you like me”
“maybe i do”
oh.
with the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, it almost looks as though he is about to cry
“please, don’t go to the border, princess,” he begs softly
his plea remains unwavering and you find your heart doing the exact opposite
after a few seconds of silence, you say
“okay, jongho. i won’t”
the tension from his shoulders seeps out and he gently tugs you towards him so he can tuck you into his side once again
“you promise that we turn around and go back tomorrow morning?”
you nod against the warmth of the crook of his neck, then murmur, “do you think father will be disappointed in me? for returning?”
he rubs a hand up and down your arm soothingly
“of course not, princess. you’ve already done so much more than you needed to. he’ll be proud of you”
and then he adds on, “just like i’m proud of you”
this is the first time anyone has ever really validated your efforts; being the youngest of a large family means you are often overshadowed
caught off guard, all you can do is whisper out, “thank you, jongho”
he hums and you feel his smile against the crown of your head
you’ve never been drunk before, but you think that this is the closest you have ever gotten
you are intoxicated by him
“if you’re thankful,” the rumble of jongho’s voice against your cheek is pleasant, “can i ask for something?”
“whatever you want”
he eases you from the comfort of his neck and tilts your chin up slightly with a finger, cheeky grin plastered across his face
“can i have some more of your lip balm?”
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skzdarlings · 1 year
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01. sharing a bed series ; skz ; chan
masterlist.
sharing a bed series part 1/8. because it's the cheesiest most classic trope and it's FUN. -
pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. chan's baby girl agenda. accidental boners, horny embarrassed reader. chan is a tease n a dork. :)
-
You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour.   Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch.   Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming.   He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.  
He must have been tired tonight.  His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the flickering lights of his computer station.  Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him.  He is so sound asleep that he didn’t hear your gentle knocks. 
You feel bad for disturbing him now.   Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.
You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you.  Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Baby girl?  That you?” 
Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine. 
You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself.   Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark.  He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face. 
“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper.  “You sleep.  It’s fine.” 
His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes.  His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline.  You quickly look away from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes.  He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.  
“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy. 
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway. 
He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you.  All at once his face goes slack with realization.  A smile pushes at his dimples. 
“Right,” he says.  “The couch sucks, yeah?  Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”
“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh.  “It’s your bed.” 
“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.” 
You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart.  As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight.  Your heart skips a beat.  
“All right,” he says.  “No worries.  Big bed.  You wanna share?” 
It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in. 
When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.
“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says.  “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”
Your eyes drop again.  The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundantly clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers.   You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body. 
He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed.  The sheet slips smoothly off his body.
You spin around to give him some privacy.  This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it. 
He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser.  You know you shouldn’t stare but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed.   You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips.  He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute. 
“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now.  Come on.” 
He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you.  He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest, horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed.  You try not to think about how he was naked between these sheets just moments ago.  
Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself.  You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly.  So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose. 
“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment. 
“Mhm,” you lie.  Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers. 
“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed.   You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest.   “Better?” he asks.
“Mmmhf.”
It requires some manoeuvring, but you do get semi-comfortable.  It is difficult to feel completely at ease when you are also lit up like a firework, very aware of all the places your body is touching his.   Your faces are close, your hand on his chest, his hand on your hip.  And something else is uncomfortably lodged between your lower halves—
Your mouth rushes ahead of your brain and you say, “Wait, what’s that?” 
As if you think he dropped something in the bed between you. 
As if that could be anything but his dick.   
His startled expression speaks volumes.  His nervous, flustered laugh says even more.  You have to physically restrain yourself from digging a hole through the bed to die inside. 
In your marginal defense, why would you expect Chan to be sporting a semi for no apparent reason?   Your shorts are pretty short and you have nothing on under your little tank top, but what sort of crazy wishful thinking is that?  That Chan reciprocates all your horny pining? 
You suppose there is some hard evidence.   So to speak. 
“Sorry,” he says, his hand lifting away from your waist.  “I didn’t, uh, sorry, wanna make you feel—”
“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you say quickly.  You feel so, so hot, and you aren’t sure if it’s embarrassment or desire.   At any rate, it makes you even stupider.  “It’s all good,” you say.  “I like it!”
I like it??? 
He is clearly computing that, looking more confused than embarrassed now. 
“You… like it,” he says slowly. 
“What I mean by that,” you say, “is that I… like… it.”  Nice recovery.
“I see.”  He looks amused now, his dimples deepening.  “That clarifies things.  Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.  Any time.” 
“You look a little embarrassed,” he says, touching your chin to tilt your face up to his.  It forces you to look directly at him as he studies your expression.  His intensity makes thinking of a response impossible.  He smiles all-too knowingly at you.  “C’mon,” he says, his voice a little lower. “It’s just me, baby girl.  You don’t have to be shy.”   
Uh oh, you think, looking at his alarmingly competent smoulder, Chan might be secretly evil.   
Maybe not secretly.  And maybe too affectionate to be pure evil.   But he holds your chin and guides your face, turning it away so he can kiss your cheek.  Your eyes close and you fight a moan, because moaning at a cheek peck would just be ridiculous. 
Then he kisses a spot a little lower on your jaw, then below your ear.  His tongue flicks at the shell of your ear at the same time his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip again.   You let yourself moan this time, a sweet little hum that he returns when you press yourself closer to him.  You feel his dick twitch in his boxers, practically demanding your attention.  You let your hand drift downward. 
“Can’t believe you’re secretly evil,” you murmur, making him laugh.  “Don’t laugh.  You are.  I hate you.” 
“Really?” he says, with all the cockiness of a man who already knows the answer.   He doesn’t wait for it, his hand swiftly moving to cup you between your legs.  His knuckle rubs softly against your pussy, so hot and wet that he can undoubtedly feel it through the fabric.   “Sorry, baby,” he says, very unserious, “but I don’t think all of you hates me.”  
“Mean, mean, mean—”
He can’t help but giggle at you, somewhat juxtaposed to the way he is rubbing you through your clothes. 
“Damn,” he says, a breathy sound.  You are panting against his open mouth already.  “Need it bad, don’t you, baby?  Who did this to you?”
“Some mean tease,” you say.  “Been into him all this time and he never did a thing.”
“What a fucking idiot.”
“Mhm.”
“His loss.” 
You both have a stupid little giggle before you finally touch him in return.   His breath catches.  
Your mouths are close, so close that it makes your clit throb under his knuckle, so close that he is straining the material of his boxers.   His hand jumps up, leaving you torturously bereft, but then he slides that hand into your shorts to touch you directly.  He kisses you at the same time, swallowing down all your sweet sounds as he licks into your mouth.  
“I got you,” he says, a lovely sentiment that is followed by a very hot, filthy lick into your mouth.  He moans into it, then kisses you nicely. “I always got you.”
Your hand stutters to a stop because he has you close, so close, so quickly.  Your orgasm washes over you with unexpected swiftness, your whole body arching against his as you come.   
“That’s it,” he says, his hand steady as he brings you over.  “That’s my girl.  Got you.”    
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.  You think about all those cozy nights you spent snuggled up in this spot, the way Chan worries about you no matter what you say, his thoughtfulness and attentiveness and protectiveness. 
I got you. 
Knowing it’s true, you smile and kiss his smile in return.    
6K notes · View notes
snowy-vee · 1 month
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All Mine (2)
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oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader
n/a: I've spent my whole day squishing my head to finishing it today, and here it is! Also I won't be uploading the pt.2 of Academic Rivals, because I prefer to leave it as a One-Shot but I have in mind another, much better, plot with the trope Enemies to Lovers with Ellie. Read the final note!!
Pt. 1 Here Pt.3 Here
Inform yourself about what's happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.
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Ellie knocked on your door for the third time that morning. The first one was before her morning run, the second one was after that and the third was once she was done in the bathroom.
When she heard no answer, she went in and opened the curtains right away. “Get up, it’s the same every morning.”
You covered your face with the blankets to avoid the sun, saying, “Give me five more minutes,” but Ellie wouldn’t have it.
She got on the bed and shook you. “You have practice in an hour; I’m not letting you leave without breakfast, and then you’ll complain I didn’t wake you up,” she said. “Come on, get up.”
Sitting upright in bed, you let out a sigh, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and let out a moan. “Els, just give me five minutes.”
She shrugged and said, “Your call,” but before she could move, you grabbed her arm and drew her nearer to you.
“Lay down with me for those five minutes,” you requested, hugging her until you managed to lay her down beside you, even though she was fighting to break free. You didn’t want to let her go.
“Fine! Just five minutes, I’ll set the alarm, I have places to be,” she said, taking her phone out of her sweatpants pocket.
When she was done, you muttered, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, shut up,” and placed her phone on your bedside table. With a smile on your face, you raised the covers to allow Ellie to slide into them, encircling her waist with your arms and placing your head on her chest.
She was trying not to touch you with her free hand and you could hear how quickly her heart was beating, as if it was your first time sharing a bed. “You can give me a hug too,” you muttered.
With a clear throat, she said, “If that’s what you want.”
You appreciated that she was a little flustered, even if you couldn’t see her face. It was something you truly enjoyed doing to her.
She relaxed and soon fell asleep. Your plan was to sleep too, but you were thinking about where she had to go when her classes didn’t start until 2 p.m. You turned around slowly and grabbed her phone, unlocking it.
¡Ding!
The notification startled you for a moment, almost making you scream. You quickly checked if Ellie woke up because of the sound, but she was asleep.
“You have to be kidding me,” you whispered, reading the notification from the panel.
Dina (Campus) : I’ll see you in an hour then! I truly want to try those croissants you’ve been talking about, and I also wan…
Rolling your eyes was the least you could do. You shook your head, going to the alarm and deactivating it. Dina was a big girl; she could eat those croissants alone. You hoped she choked on them.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
The sound of the TV, the microwave, and your humming was enough to wake her up. She yawned and stretched out, all calm until she saw how late it was.
“Fuck!” Ellie said getting up from the bed and grabbing her phone “No,no,no…”
You were scrolling on your phone, having breakfast, hearing how she was going side to side. From the bathroom to her bedroom and vice versa until she came to the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you woke me up? I told you I had places to be!” she walked past you to the entrance to put her white sneakers on.
“Good Morning to you too” you said sarcastically “I thought it was your classes where you had to go, it’s 1 p.m, you still have time”
Ellie shook her head “No, it was something else! What are you doing here, tho? Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“I woke up like 30 minutes before you, so” you shrugged “You’re not going to drive me to campus today?”
“Uh…” She was roaming through her backpack making sure she had everything “I can’t today, sorry but here, call an Uber”
She left some money on the table beside your plate before stealing on of your toasts “Bye, see you later!”
“She is joking, right?” you thought picking up the money. “Seriously, Ellie?!”
You yelled from the balcony, seeing Ellie running to her car
“Sorry, no time!” She yelled back getting into her car with her mouth full of the toast.
The thing is, Ellie was in a hurry. She had arranged to meet up with Dina for breakfast before class at a café she had suggested herself, and on top of that, she had overslept.
She started the car and began to drive. When she reached a red traffic light, she took the opportunity to call Dina, who answered almost immediately as if she had been waiting for her. She sounded a bit annoyed; after all, she had been waiting for her for a long time. But she understood that Ellie had overslept. She suggested they meet at the entrance of the building where they had their only class together.
Obviously, Ellie agreed, but she couldn’t go empty-handed. So, as soon as she arrived on campus, she went to the cafeteria, ordered two coffees, and some cookies that Dina had mentioned she liked yesterday.
“Ellie, you didn’t need to buy breakfast,” the dark-haired girl said, trying to hide her big smile. She grabbed the bag and chuckled softly, looking at the cookies. “Wow, you sure know how to apologize.”
“Sorry, again, for standing you up. It wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s okay. Next time, I’ll come pick you up at your place.”
Next time? That meant Dina wanted to keep meeting up. Ellie nodded energetically. By the time class started, they had finished breakfast, talked about different things, sat together, and also had small conversations during class.
“That’s all for today. Remember, we start presentations in two weeks. Goodbye,” the professor said, collecting his briefcase and leaving the classroom.
“Well, on Tuesday, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go to a café to finish it?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Ellie said, gathering her things. “See you tonight at the party?”
“Yes, but aren’t you going to the parking lot?” Dina asked, watching as Ellie walked in the opposite direction.
“No, I have one more class, and then I’m meeting a friend.”
Dina nodded, waving goodbye. Ellie didn’t have another class, but she usually waited for her outside hers to go eat together. She had no idea why she had said that.
Your building wasn’t far from hers, so in less than 20 minutes, she arrived. She went up to the second floor and could see people coming out of your class, and finally you, but behind you was Abby Anderson. Ellie saw how she grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the others. It seemed like you were arguing about something until you pushed her aside and quickly walked to the stairs.
“Ellie? I didn’t think you were going to come pick me up today. Never mind, let’s go!” you said, intertwining your arms, almost dragging her to get out of there quickly. “I think they’re serving carbonara pasta in the dining hall today. You love pasta, right? How great that it’s on the menu today.”
Ellie nodded, frowning as she glanced at Abby once more before leaving. She would ask you about it later…
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
“I don’t like it, I’ll just wear something else,” Ellie said, entering your room for the third time with a different outfit than before. You rolled your eyes at her. “Ellie, I’m going to hit you if you don’t decide,” you said, watching her with frustration as she seemed unable to choose her clothes for the party. “Who do you want to look so good for?”
“No one. Could you help me instead of judging?” she replied, tossing the shirt she was taking off towards you. You dodged it, laughing, before throwing it back at her.
“Cargo pants and a black top, good combo, simple and it looks great on you,” you suggested. A few minutes later, she came back into your room wearing the suggested outfit. “See? I never fail,” you said with a grin.
“Fine,” she said, sitting on your bed as she watched you apply makeup. You were wearing a brown top tied at the top with a bow and a denim mini skirt. Ellie couldn’t help but admire your body, especially your legs, and you could see her doing so in the mirror. With a smile, you turned to her, and her gaze shot up to your face.
“Let me do your makeup,” you said.
“Why?” she narrowed her eyes and shook her head as she watched you approach with a playful smile. “Okay, but only the eyeliner.”
“Kay. Close your eyes,” you requested, opening the black eyeliner as you positioned yourself between her legs. “I’m going to sit on you.”
“Is that necessary?” Ellie asked, opening her eyes slightly, to which you nodded.
“I’m not comfortable, and if I’m not comfortable, it won’t turn out well,” you said, sitting on her and starting to apply the makeup. The only sounds in the room were your breaths and the low music from the speaker. “So… where did you have to go early this morning?”
“I had something important,” Ellie said, almost stuttering. She didn’t expect you to ask anything, but why wasn’t she telling you the truth? Why did she feel weird mentioning that she had plans with Dina?
“Ah, really?” you responded vaguely, clicking your tongue.
“Yeah… And what were you talking about with Abby?”
“Something important,” you shrugged. “There, it’s done, open your eyes.”
Ellie opened them, blinking a bit, smiling sideways. “Does it look good on me?”
You nodded, still on top of her. You grabbed her cheeks and squeezed gently, making her lips press together, and asked, making eye contact with her, “Is it for Dina that you’re getting all dressed up?”
“Maybe”
“Are you planning to kiss her tonight?”
“Maybe?” Ellie was confused about where these questions were coming from and at the same time thinking about how well you knew her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have ‘hidden’ her meeting with Dina from you in the morning…
“When was your last kiss? Like four years ago, right? Wow, you’re rusty,” you teased.
“Well, let’s not exaggerate,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink, not only from your grip that was tightening more and more but also from the image that crossed her mind of kissing Dina.
“Do you want to practice?”
“I mean… I don’t want her to think that I don’t know how to kiss. I know how to; I’ve kissed a lot of girls.”
“You only kissed two girls: me, for your first kiss and your ex-girlfriend, Cat. The little kisses at some parties while playing ‘spin the bottle’ don’t count.”
“Well, they should because I kissed plenty of girls,” Ellie mumbled.
“Decide before I change my mind or suit yourself,” you said, finally releasing her.
Ellie bit her cheek from the inside before nodding. “Okay, let’s practice.”
You did not wait to join your lips to hers, starting a slow kiss with a slow peace. Your arms were resting on her shoulders, bringing her closer to you, and your hands were starting to play with her hair. You wanted to explore Ellie’s mouth; you needed to feel her.
The kiss became deeper, and you buried yourselves more into each other’s mouths eagerly, feeling your lips closer as if there was a need that must be fulfilled. Soon Ellie’s tongue found yours, and they intertwined, making you moan in the midst of the kiss.
That made Ellie press her hands that were on your thighs; she had liked that sound a bit too much. Slowly she began to slide her hands upward until she touched the hem of your skirt, which was hiked up due to the position you were in.
Your breaths became more ragged as the rythm of the kiss quickened, and you wanted to continue, but no. If you didn’t stop, Ellie wouldn’t learn, she wouldn’t learn that only you could kiss her like that, you had to keep her yearning for more of you.
So you had to cut it off and watch as Ellie tried to reconnect your lips; it was so satisfying, you had to stop her gently, “Wow, Els, calm down, this is practice,” you said in a joking tone, getting off her, patting her knee to get her attention. She was still lying on the bed with an embarrassed expression on her face. “There’s a party we have to attend, come on.”
You grabbed your minibag and left your room to the front door, and Ellie did nothing but get up and follow you, not without first processing what had just happened a few seconds ago.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Ellie opened the passenger door once you arrived so that you could get out of the car.
She had to park a bit far from the house, but from there, you could hear the music and there were already drunk people in the street as you walked towards the entrance. You walked with your arms intertwined as you told Ellie the most recent gossip you had heard in the locker room or that you had been told, and Ellie listened, reacting when she could put faces to the names.
“He said that it was Sarah’s underwear, and Sarah denied it, saying that she was not ghetto and that she would never wear that. Imagine who snapped? April!”
“The church girl with brown hair?”
“Yeah, that one! It was so messy because the previous day she was preaching about how she was going to see the pearly gates since she was one of the last ‘pure’ girls on the team.”
“No way!”
“Yes, way! She’s so dumb, I hate her and more with the fa-”
“Hi, Ellie.”
Oh, you were going to kill this bitch. Dina was sitting on the porch of the house with a glass in her hand; she had probably been there for a short time. She looked at Ellie with a wide smile that decreased when she looked at you.
“I’ll see you inside,” you said, letting go of Ellie and passing by Dina without saying anything. Once inside, you joined your group of friends who were already quite drunk; they all greeted you, some with mini hugs or two kisses before giving you a glass full of rum and cola, more rum than cola. “You all know me better than I know myself.”
“Of course we do, silly, we love you.” You let yourself fall into the couch, tasting the drink, when your eyes diverted to see Ellie and Dina finally entering the party, giggling and whispering in each other’s ears because of how loud the music was.
“I love you too, April!” You smiled in her direction, drank all the liquid in your cup in one go, and handed it to her. “Be a doll and refill this.”
April looked at the rest of the girls and then at you, grabbing it. “Slow down, we don’t want you to repeat the Anderson accident again.”
The ginger girl beside April pushed her slightly, looking at you with her eyes wide open and laughing awkwardly. “She doesn’t mean that.”
Your eye twitched looking at April go refill your drink; you were going to brush it off for now because you had better enemies to fight than her. You had a whole plan on how to snatch Ellie away from Dina, but it hadn’t been formulated clearly, and you didn’t like to act on impulse. Anyway, you were at a party, and you were going to enjoy it.
By the time it was 3 a.m., you were already dancing on the table and shouting the lyrics of the songs you knew, swaying your hips against whoever. You stepped aside for a moment, saying that you were going for another drink, jumping off the table almost falling to the floor, but you could only laugh; everything was funny to you at that moment, and you wasn’t even that drunk! You had high tolerance, only your tongue was kind of asleep and you were stumbling from time to time but you loved to play silly and pretend to be more gone then you really were.
You reached the kitchen, looking for a new glass in the cabinets because you had no idea where you had thrown yours, when you found one, you began to decide what liquor to drink with eeny, meeny, miny, moe, before someone took away the glass and took you somewhere no matter how much you protested. The other person had a strong grip, and no matter how vaguely you were saying to let you go, they didn’t.
“I can’t believe you have me added as Dina (Campus), how lame, I’m going to change it,” Dina said, changing her contact name, but Ellie, who had seen the situation, was not paying attention.
“As you wish,” Ellie murmured, watching you disappear to the second floor; that didn’t sit well with her.
“Done!” Dina smiled, returning the phone to its owner, but Ellie’s gaze seemed worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Wait for me here, yeah? I’ll be back,” Ellie said, grabbing her phone and following where she last saw you.
She went upstairs dodging some drunk people and the long wait line to enter the bathroom, trying to see if you were in any of them, walking in the hallway close to the door to see if she could hear your voice in any of them until one door abruptly opened and you came out of it with teary eyes but laughing. (What happened in the room?)
“Are you okay?” She asked. Hearing her voice surprised you.
“How long have you been there?” Depending on her answer, you had two reactions.
“I just got here, I was searching for you.”
There it was! The cherry on top of your plan. You hugged Ellie and started slowly sobbing, whispering in her ear, “I want to go home now, please…”
“Hey, what happened? what’s wrong?” Ellie asked, breaking the hug to look at you and wipe your tears with her thumbs. “Let’s go.”
She held your hand and walked to the stairs, turning her head for a moment to look at you once more, and her eyes saw the other person who was in the room with you. Abby Anderson.
Had she made you cry? She was lucky that Ellie was more concerned about getting you out of the party than beating her up.
“Wait, Ellie, my bag is in the living room with the team,” you said before she went outside.
“Oh, okay, wait here, I’ll get it for you then.” You nodded and waited until you couldn’t see her to fucking smile because of your victory.
“Hey,” a touch on your shoulder made you come out of your little mental dance, “Have you seen Ellie? She went somewhere around 15 minutes ago, and I can’t find her.”
Of course it was Dina…
“She doesn’t feel well, must be something she ate before.”
“You sure? Should I take her to the hospital?”
“No worries, we are going now, but here, money for an Uber,” you said, taking some money out of your pocket.
The same money Ellie gave you this morning. You were giving it to her, and for you, it felt so good as you patted her shoulder and sighed with a little smirk.
Dina thought you were calling her poor and mumbled a “fuck you” before dropping the money on the floor and leaving you there just in time for Ellie to come back with your bag.
“Sorry, there were a lot of people in the way,” she handed the bag to you, “Whose money is that?”
“Yours,” you grabbed the bag and started walking out. Ellie frowned, confused, but still picked up the money; it was free money, and everybody was too drunk to miss some dollars. She felt as if she was forgetting to do something before leaving. “Els!”
“Coming!” Whatever, maybe tomorrow she’ll remember; now she had to assist her best friend and be there for her as she always did… like a loyal puppy, a cute and precious one of your property.
Note: I will upload Pt.3 once this chapter and the first one reach 250 so I have time to write and to know that you all like it and want more ty♡♡
956 notes · View notes
queerpumpkinnn · 8 months
Text
You Snooze You Lose
3.9k words
Summary: you're just about to give up on the dating scene altogether, so who better than your neighbor friend to show you how good dates usually end? can you tell this is my favorite trope
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (can be interpreted as older!Eddie)
Warnings: piercedtongue!Eddie, softdom!Eddie, mention of reader having an awkward date, alcohol (both consume but they're not drunk), Eddie refers to reader as princess/pretty and reader is afab but pronouns and clothing style is up for interpretation, Eddie picks up reader, thigh riding, choking, brief weed mention, fingering, oral sex, singular biblical reference?? (not counting someone saying 'oh god' or something of the like, kinda vague i think it'll probably go over a lot of people's heads), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling (eddie receiving), mentions of voyeurism, reader begs a lot a lot a lot, unprotected sex and creampie (this is fiction, wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, panty sniffing and stealing, scratching (eddie receiving), Eddie's mouth (however you're interpreting this the answer is yes), heaps of praise, sprinkle of dumbification, squirting, Eddie is a pleasure dom through and through, let me know if I missed anything
While reading, I recommend you listen to the altar is my hips - a Spotify playlist by me!
~
Your head fell back against the car, inhaling deeply and heaving a long sigh that devolved into something of a groan. Your social battery was impossibly drained.
You had just come from another pitiful excuse of a date, someone from work that a mutual friend had set you up with. It wasn't a total disaster, but it didn't leave you with butterflies either. But you were home now, so you could forget about the experience for the timebeing.
A voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. It was one you recognized immediately as your next door neighbor, Eddie. When your eyes located him you saw him sauntering out of his open garage towards your driveway, beer in one hand and jean pocket over the other. His chunky boots set in stone his walk, so casual and powerful, and oh god he's right in front of you now.
"You must be doing some serious thinking out here," Eddie chuckled, leaning on your car opposite you. "Either that or there's more to that tree than meets the eye because you've been staring at it for the last five minutes."
You chuckled back at him. "You've been watching me?"
"With a face like that, it'd be a crime not to."
There it was again. That little game you and Eddie played. Even from your first day in the neighborhood Eddie welcomed you with his abrasive charm and an open invitation to his services on a car. Which he seemed to exercise often- his garage door was often open during the afternoons, blasting music as he sat under his car doing god knows what. He never failed to wave and wink at you as you pulled into the driveway every day as you came home from work.
As you became more accustomed to him, your friendship evolved into frequent Friday night hangouts, sitting on the ground in the living room with a six pack talking about anything and everything.
You hated to admit it, but it didn't take long for your cheeks and ears to start to get embarrassingly red in front of Eddie, especially when your conversation topics became more, well, intimate. Whether or not he'd picked up on it, you didn't know- nothing had ever come of your little crush; you'd been content to leave that between you and your vibrator.
"Kid? Y'alright?"
There you go again. You shook your head, blinking a few times before shooting him an apologetic smile.
"Yeah, sorry."
"You seem a bit on edge. Wanna talk about it?"
You shrug. "It's nothing, really. Just got home from a date."
"Assuming it didn't go well?"
"It wasn't bad, it just- I don't know, it felt forced."
Eddie hummed, nodding lightly. "I hear ya. Tell y'what, take ten to get settled and let me clean up, then come over, we'll break out a couple of bottles and you can tell me all about it, yeah?"
"Sounds great," you agreed, and Eddie gave you a playful salute before sauntering back to his own driveway- which you may or may not have watched for a little too long.
Once you'd changed into more casual attire, you took the short walk down the street to Eddie's house. By this time, the sun was half set, and his garage had been shut, the only evidence that someone was home being the lights on in the kitchen.
"There you are. Was starting to worry," Eddie grinned at you as soon as the door swung open. You noted a flash of silver behind his teeth as his tongue swiped against his side teeth, and the tickling in your lower gut a moment later.
"Aw, you worry about me?"
“All the time, sweetheart,” the man flashed a grin, stepping aside to welcome you inside. "So, what's gotcha down?"
You heaved a groan, plopping onto his couch. "It's such a long story, I'm not even sure I have it in me to tell the whole thing. But he treated me like one of the guys. I mean, I want us to be friends too, but..." you clicked your tongue and sighed, words escaping you.
Meanwhile Eddie just watched you, arm slung over the back cushion across from you on the other side of the L of the couch. His beer bottle rested on his knee, balanced by his hand. "You wanted to be romanced."
"Yeah, I guess so. He didn't even make sure I got to my car safely."
Eddie's eyed widened, head cocking in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" When you shook your head no, he flung his hands in the air. "That's not even romantic! I do that for my friend's kids I drive around because I don't want them getting kidnapped!"
"I know, I know. That's not even the worst part."
Eddie scoffed. "What could possibly be worse?"
"Let's just say I know more about his bowel happenings than I would like to."
Eddie wrinkled his nose, sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, y'know princess, I get the feeling he's not your soulmate." He set his bottle down with a clink on the wood, running his hands up his thighs. "Man, even I could do better."
Something in your stomach turned over at the thought. Eddie seemed to notice your change in demeanor, however slight, and set his bottle down.
"Could you?"
Although it was after a few long, heavy seconds, the words escaped you faster than your brain could process them. Eddie's eyebrows twitched in something mixing amusement and bewilderment.
"I could," he mused. You swore that when he shifted his legs opened a little bit wider. "'Least your night wouldn't end complaining to a friend over a beer."
"Oh yeah? How would my night have ended?"
Eddie cocked a brow, lips curling.
You tilted your head to the side, eyeing him. Another long, heavy moment settled between you two, where you sat staring at one another.
Then your mouth moved of its own accord.
"Show me."
Slowly, so slowly, Eddie stood. sauntered over to where you sat. He watched you like a hawk, mischievous eyes captivating yours. A single, calloused hand reached out to your jaw, tilting it up a bit so that you were facing him. Eddie's mouth quirked up at the new sight.
"Y'want me to show you how your night should've ended, princess?" He crooned. You nodded dumbly, earning another chuckle. "Show you how you deserve to be treated, hm?"
Before you could give a response, Eddie's mouth was on yours, slow and deliberate and relaxed, seeming to simultaneously pull tension from your bones and set your skin on fire. Your fingers reached for his jacket, tugging him closer. Eddie gripped the couch back behind you to hold his weight, other hand coming to cup the back of your neck, slinking into your hair. His thumb rested on your pulse, smirking a little when he felt it racing.
"Pretty thing," he murmured in between hot kisses, "are you sure about this?"
"So sure, Eddie, please," you breathed, tugging his jacket off; the leather was cool to the touch, nice on your searing fingertips.
You could feel his mouth quirk up at your desperation. The hand that held the couch came down to your legs, lighting fire in their wake and finding the crook under your knee, tugging outwards. Heat brewed in your core at the implication- fueled even more so when Eddie pulled back with a grunt to tug his jacket away. Your eyes seemed to be locked in on his, somehow darker and lit with something primal. His kiss-bitten lips hung open in a lazy grin.
"C'mere, pretty." Eddie's hands grip your thighs with a searing mix of worship and need, pulling them apart and tugging you towards the end of the couch by the crooks under your knees. You let out a squeak, breaking quickly into a stifled hum of pleasure as his mouth found and made quick work of your neck, kissing and nipping and licking with that damn ball of metal down the front of your throat, hands splaying over your thighs appreciatively all the while.
"Eddie," your voice had risen into a near whine, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All thoughts were clouded with his storm- his breath fanning your jaw, warmth radiating onto your body, almost chest to chest, hands teasing dangerously high.
"Hm?"
"Please, please Eddie..." you weren't sure what you were asking for, really, you just knew you wanted more of him. However he would give himself to you you would gladly take.
"Please what? Y'know I'm all yours, honey, I'll give you everything you want and then some but I can't help you if I don't know what that is."
"More," you huffed, reaching for his wrists.
"More?" Eddie teased; the condescending lilt in his tone was overwhelmingly obvious, but in your frenzied state you only nodded limply. Your hand tugged at his, and he followed your lead as you dragged his hand towards your neck, pressing at the back of his hand to indicate what you wanted him to do.
"Oh? Princess likes choking, huh?" The excitement in Eddie's voice was hardly containable, but he managed to play it off cooler than how he really felt- like a dog who just heard dinner being poured into his bowl. "That is interesting."
Eddie's grip on your neck wasn't really that strong, but it made your head spin nonetheless, eliciting a weak, content noise from you.
"There we go, fuckin' love hearing that." Eddie gave a kiss to your cheek, his other hand occupied with sending shock waves down to your gut as his fingers walked up the back of your leg. "What else does princess want, hm?"
You only let out a whine, too engrossed with the building, unbearable heat in between your legs, which, at the sound of his nickname, twitched further open.
Lucky for you, Eddie picked up on that immediately. "Aw, sweet thing, shoulda told me." He tuts, moving both hands under you and rearranging the two of you so that your crotch was hovering over his thigh, other leg hooking onto yours so that you were spread open for him.
"Here we go honey, y'wanna use my leg, hm? Get yourself off?" His words were muffled by the skin of your shoulder.
Realistically you knew you wouldn't be able to orgasm from dry humping his thigh alone, but God you were so eager for friction you were willing to try. You whimpered an 'mhm', setting yourself down on his leg- even that small touch made you gasp. Eddie's hands reached for your ass, helping you grind down onto him, nearly knocking the breath out of you when the contact you so desperately craved turned into a wildfire of need.
"That's it, sweetheart, keep going. 'S'it feel good? Yeah?" He mimicked your whimper of response, proud grin never faltering, even as he nipped at your jaw. His hands, firm, surprisingly gentle for how rough and calloused they felt, traveled from your ass to your waist, fingertips slinking under the hem of your shirt.
"Can we take this off, princess? Want to see you, pretty please let me see you." His voice was low and sultry and had goosebumps rising on your back. You whined an 'mhm', the thought of what he was going to do when you were topless spurring you to pull it over your head yourself.
Once your chest was bared to him, Eddie's hands, trailing lightly enough to tickle, found your poor, sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing over them enough to make you jolt, gasping in surprise.
"Eddie, Eddie- fuck, more, need more, please," you cried, hand flying to his hair when his head dipped to lick over your chest. Whether it was to tug him away or keep him there, you didn't know.
"Aw, I know, you're just insatiable, aren't you?" Eddie gave you his best faux sympathetic voice, and for a minute you actually thought he might feel sorry for you, like it wasn't his plan all along to get you worked up like this.
Eddie's hands worked under your legs, pulling you closer to him before hoisting you up, stomping somewhere in the house you'd only visited a handful of times and never under this circumstance- his bedroom.
It was a dimly lit room, smelling faintly of weed, but you weren't given much time to take in the sights because Eddie plopped you down on his bed, immediately towering over you, caging you in with his arms. His curls tickled your face, then your neck when he moved there. A few sloppy kisses quickly turned heated again when his leg wedged itself between yours. You took the opportunity, however fleeting, to rut yourself against the material.
But this time Eddie gripped your hips, pinning you down. "Patience honey, I'm getting there." The glint of warning in his eyes had you nearly shaking in excitement. A glimmer inside of you wondered what he'd be like if you ignored his warnings.
Eddie slithered down, slowly, kissing his way down to your navel. You willed your hips to stay down, not to lean into his touch, but they did anyway. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back and fingers finding the pillow for something to weakly grip onto.
But a tap on your hipbone snapped them open, looking down at a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, hovering over your cunt. Knowing what he was asking, you responded with lifting your hips, making it easy for Eddie to slip your bottoms down Your phone nearly fell out of your back pocket from the force with which he flung them, as if he detested the fabric for its audacity to cover you up.
"Good, doing so good." Eddie gave your thighs a squeeze, smiling up at you with something a little kinder, more endearing than the smirk he'd donned the whole evening. With another squeeze, his head dipped down close to your clothed cunt. You swore you could hear him inhale, but your train of thought was halted when Eddie licked a fat stripe up the front of your underwear, sending shocks to your already hypersensitive clit.
"God- fuck!" You tried to clap a hand over your mouth, but Eddie tugged it away as quickly as it came.
"Y'doin' alright, princess? You seem a little tense." Eddie's teasing lilt came from somewhere under you, you could see the grin even through closed eyes. You opened them anyways. His smile was turned into something more playful, a glimpse of the boyish humor he always charmed you with. His head leaned against your thigh like a puppy, pouting up at you with false concern.
"Wonder fuckin' why," you gritted through your teeth, throwing your head back in exasperation.
"Easy tiger," Eddie chuckled, fingers pulling your underwear down- this time you definitely heard an inhale. You heard him mutter something along the lines of "saving these for later."
Eddie's fingers were quick to find you again, thumbs brushing over the joint between your thighs and your pussy, as if he thought the action was soothing and not setting you on fire.
You let out a strangled sound. "Eddie, I swear, if you don't fucking touch me-"
"You'll what?" Eddie's brow raised. His gaze alone made any snide remark die on your tongue.
As if on cue, your phone, long forgotten on the edge of your bed, lit up with an incoming call.
"Well?" Eddie prompted. You reached for the phone, seeing the absolute last name you cared to see illuminating the screen. You gulped, a tinge of guilt seeping in.
"Ah, I think I know who it is." Eddie chuckled, forehead knocking into your thigh as he made a poor attempt to hide his thorough amusement. "Well? Y'gonna answer it?"
You paused, made a face. You didn't even want to talk to him, really.
Eddie barked out a laugh at your reaction. "Shame. He could've learned a thing or two."
You giggled, but it quickly turned into a loud moan as Eddie's tongue, followed by that damn metal ball in the middle, began teasing circles over your clit. Somehow you were both infinitely relieved and worked up even more. Your phone was long forgotten, flung a little too far as, somewhere in the back of your brain, you heard it clatter on the wooden floor. Not that you could be brought to care, not with the way Eddie's tongue felt tracing your weeping hole.
"Fuck, all this for me? Sweet thing, if I knew how good this pretty pussy was sooner." You wondered momentarily what the end of that sentence was, but with his lips around your clit you weren't too worried. Ceaseless and electric his mouth was, bringing you slowly but surely towards that high you'd been chasing fervently for an hour now.
"Eddie, Eddie, I'm gonna- fuck! So good, Eddie, I'm gonna come, pleasepleaseplease-" You could barely understand yourself speak, so lost in your cloud of pleasure. But Eddie seemed to understand perfectly, cooing sweet praises into your cunt as he shook his head back and forth.
"Gonna cum, princess? Go on, you've earned it. Been so good, so patient f'me. Good, good, let go." He pulled both of your hands towards your lower stomach, interlacing them with his.
The noises you made as you unraveled under his marvelous touch were downright pornographic, downright sinful. One might be tempted to say you'd forgotten how to blush, but the heat in your cheeks would have shot down the theory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, pulling pure electric heat from your sex as you writhed and shivered from Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
But when the pleasure subsided into jolts, Eddie didn't stop. His tongue continued tracing your clit languidly, and- oh- a new sensation at your core had you squeezing his hands.
"Eddie, ohmygod-" Quickly you realized what he was doing, one finger prodding around your entrance before sinking into your embarrassingly wet cunt, which welcomed him. Your back arched when his finger curled, a guttural sound ripping from your throat as he pushed deeper, searching for that spot, the one that would ensure a noise complaint from a few neighbors.
"Shh, you're okay, you're doing so well, hm? So well, yeah, relax- just like that." Eddie hummed, another finger joining the first and a high-pitched moan from you following shortly after.
And then he found it. That damn spot deep in your gut, and he bullied it with his fingertips over and over and over again.
"Eddie!" His name fell from your mouth like a hymn, moans almost swallowed by the pillow you tugged to cover your face when the brief thought of the neighbors made you a slight bit guilty. Your second orgasm of the night was coming at you full steam ahead, much easier to find from your oversensitivity as well as the new sensation that joined his thumb swiping over your clit.
"That's it, princess, give me another. G'na get you nice and ready, yeah?" Ready for what, you had an idea that sparked, if possible, even more delicious heat in between your legs.
You were animalistic at this point, nearly screaming for him to make you come again. You almost sobbed when his fingers pulled out from you, hands reaching weakly for him.
"Easy, easy, I know. Gonna make it worth your wait, mm? You want my cock, sweet thing?"
Your mouth salivated at the mention, and you immediately propped up onto your elbows to watch him line himself up with you.
"Please, Eddie, please," you sighed, head lolling back.
And there it was, that delicious stretch that had your mind reeling and fingernails digging into Eddie's inked shoulders.
"Oh, oh oh, so good, so good, Eddie, right there!"
Your hands were grabbing for every bit of him you could find. Tugging his hair, scratching down his back, pulling his neck down into a searing, heavy-breath kiss.
"Fuck, princess, keep clenching and I won't last." Eddie grunted into your mouth. His hand, previously pressing onto your lower stomach, pulled your legs so that your ankles rested over his shoulders, bending down a little so that he could move deeper, and did it have you seeing stars.
"Keep- ah- keep going, please, 'm gonna cum, gonna- Eddie!"
Your cunt convulsed around Eddie's cock, throbbing inside of you as you felt white-hot release wash over you. You sobbed into Eddie's pillow, chanting his name as he overwhelmed you with praise. Eddie fucked you through it as best he could, but you could feel he was slowing down, spurts of wet heat in your gut moments later.
"Oh, baby... didn't know you could do that." Eddie was grinning like an idiot, incredulous grin staring down at his thighs. Dizzy, you looked down where he was staring like he just won the lottery.
His thighs were splattered with what you could only guess was your own arousal, even a few drops on his stomach.
"Oh my god," you flopped your head back, hand covering your eyes and trying to cover your embarrassed smile.
"Hey, that was hot." Eddie pulled your hand away, giving you that same sweet smile, squeezing your thigh before pulling himself out. You winced at the feeling, guilt following as you realized his sheets were definitely soiled.
You let out a long exhale, mind still racing. Eddie, having tucked himself into a new pair of pants, watched you. When he concludes you've had a moment to sit and think, he strokes your arm.
"Hey, cutie. You alright there?"
"Uh huh."
Eddie chuckled at the stupid smile you're sure you wore. "C'mon, gotta get you cleaned up."
"Yeah- sorry about your sheets."
Eddie pursed his lips, shrugged. "It was worth it, don't you think?" You attempted to stand, but Eddie held up a hand. "Allow me."
Eddie carried you into his bathroom, seating you carefully onto the toilet before excusing himself. He came back a moment later with your phone, wet wipes, and a glass of water.
You and Eddie fell into more casual conversation- the latter participant heavy on the cocky jokes- it was comforting. He'd offered you to stay the night; not like you hadn't conked out on his couch before anyways.
Brushing your teeth with your finger, you tapped your phone to check the time- and almost knocked it from the sink.
"FUCK." You nearly sprayed toothpaste foam all over Eddie's mirror, holding the phone inches from your face in case your vision had somehow failed you the first time.
"What, what what??" Eddie shouted from the shower, a bottle clattering on the tile shortly after.
You spat your foam out, coughing. You pulled the curtain open enough to push your phone into the shower to show him the time and name of your most recent call.
A pfft noise followed by loud cackling echoed off the tiles. "Oh shit! Y'think he got a show too, sure it wasn't FaceTime?"
Meanwhile you sunk your head into your hands in utter mortification.
Although a tiny part of you was laughing too.
~
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Stranger Things Masterlist
Main Masterlist
3K notes · View notes
ellemj · 4 months
Text
Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 3
Bucky Barnes x Reader
**If you haven't read Pt. 1 and Pt. 2 yet, read those first!**
Summary: You and Bucky give into the chemical that's influencing your bodies in the most hellish way. Round one leaves him planning round two.
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, mention of choking, sex pollen (dubcon), possessive!Bucky, minimal use of y/n, teasing, profanity, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Special thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for helping with the warnings &lt;3
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.
Word Count: 3.3k
Author's Note: Someone stop me, because I have another few thousand words of smut to add to this but I didn't want to post a whole novel and drive everyone away. Can you blame me though? As soon as the dog tags came into play my mind went rogue. Also, every single one of y'alls comments on part 2 made my whole night. Definitely going to be checking out a lot of y'alls blogs tomorrow. Enjoy this one!
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Something dark came over him as soon as your fingertips brushed over his dog tags. Something possessive and primal, something that only partially came from the chemical you were both exposed to. You saw it every bit as much as he felt it within himself, like a switch had been flipped. He couldn’t help himself honestly. If you weren’t going to let him kiss you, the only way he felt like he could pretend you were his was to see you in his dog tags. He wanted to watch you fall apart for him, with his name wrapped around your neck and falling from your parted lips. He would’ve been perfectly satisfied with feeling you fall apart for him as he kissed you, but no, you took that from him.
            You fight the urge to push him away as he brings his flesh hand up to the side of your face, cupping the curve of your jaw and looking down into your eyes. Too. Fucking. Intimate. What the hell is he trying to do here? Make love? Fuck fighting the urge, you push him back just like you did in the bathroom doorway, giving yourself enough space to step away from the wall and take a couple of steps into your room. As soon as you’re two steps from him, another stomach cramp hits you like a punch to the gut, and you’re doubling over just past the threshold of the door.
            “Stop fucking pushing me away and you won’t have to feel like this.” He spits out, quickly entering the room behind you and pushing your hair to the side to expose the back of your neck to him. He wastes no time in attaching his lips to your skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on each raised point of your spine above the collar of your t-shirt. If he can’t kiss your lips, he’ll kiss every other inch of you until you’re begging for him to give you the one thing that you asked him to withhold. Your breath hitches in your throat at the way even just his mouth on your neck makes the cramping in your stomach reside, allowing you to stand straight up once again.
            “Do we really need foreplay?” You ask between breaths. You hate how you’re already panting from his actions. You’re sure he can tell how needy you are, even though your words are making it sound like you can’t wait to get this whole thing over with. You’re trying so hard to convince yourself that this is a transaction, a swapping of favors between partners, and absolutely nothing more. You need this to be over with as fast as possible so you don’t have a moment to let yourself believe it’s really happening. You can’t dwell on the fact that you’re about to have sex with the one person that you trust above anyone else, the person that you put your life’s hands in every time you go out in the field. You can’t let your feelings creep into this. You need to hate him more than you’ve ever hated him right now, in this moment.
            “I don’t.” Bucky answers your rhetorical question, punctuating his response by grinding his hard-on against your ass, causing your t-shirt to pull up above your ass ever so slightly. He groans when he realizes the only thing between you both is his boxers and your panties. “But I’m not an ass, and we both know that physical touch is what’s helping the pain stop right now.” You want to argue with him but you know he’s right. Every part of you that he touches seems to feel instant relief.
            “You’re still an ass.” You retort. He laughs lowly in your ear as his hands find purchase on your hips.
            “Keep acting like you don’t need me to fuck the shit out of you and see where that gets you.” Biting your lip proves to be fruitless as you let out the sluttiest moan you’ve ever heard leave your own lips. Who knew dirty talk could be that much of a catalyst for you? Bucky is instantly encouraged by the prettiest sound he has ever heard sneaking past your lips, and he pushes you forward to the foot of the bed. You climb onto the mattress quickly, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. You’re on autopilot now, moving up to the head of the bed as the mattress dips behind you. “Shirt off, now.”
            You’re getting really fucking tired of your body doing things without your permission, just because he gives you a command. You pull your shirt over your head and toss it onto the floor before he’s even fully on the bed. You don’t have time to overthink, to worry about how exposed you are right now, he doesn’t give you a second to form a thought. You feel his flesh hand wrap around your ankle and pull you toward him at the end of the bed until you’re flat on your back and he’s between your legs. Fuck. He’s good at this. He’s too good at this.
            “Look at me.” His tone is demanding and surprisingly calm considering his heart is beating out of his damn chest right now. He can hear his own heart beat in his ears and yet, all he can think about is how fucking pretty you look laid out in front of him like this. You watch as he slowly reaches up to his neck. He’s sitting on his knees in front of you, the sweat on his body gleams in the moonlight that streams in from the window across the room, highlighting every ridge and curve of his muscular form. You take your time dragging your eyes up his torso and once your gaze lands on the action of his hands, you swallow hard. He’s staring you right in the eyes, holding your lustful gaze as he lifts his dog tags up over his head and grips them in his flesh palm for a second. He looks down at them briefly, like they have so much meaning to him, before leaning over you and draping them over your head. You lift your neck and hold your hair to the side, allowing him to slide the chain down and rest the tags on your bare chest. He studies the sight before him, frozen in time. You don’t know it, but he’s memorizing the scene before him. Memorizing the way his name looks laying there on the smooth skin between your breasts, memorizing the way the tags shift with every inhale and exhale. Fuck. He’s done for. He shouldn’t have made you wear them. He knows that. But is he really thinking clearly? You’ve both been basically drugged. He can’t be held responsible for the stupid shit that he does now. Not when you’re laying here like this, ready to let him do anything to you. Well, anything except kiss you.
            “It hurts…” You whimper, dropping your head back on the pillow and closing your eyes as you wince. The stomach pain is back since he’s stopped touching you, and you’re noticing the wetness in your panties is approaching a near uncomfortable level. You want them off.
            “I know, baby, I know.” Bucky murmurs. He lowers himself down, keeping his weight on his arms beside your head. Baby? Fuck, you should have told him that pet names were off limits. As soon as you feel his hard length pressing against your soaked panties, your legs spread all on their own, and he rewards you with a soft kiss to your collarbone.
            “Fuck this.” You groan, reaching your hands down and pushing the waistband of your panties down. You only get them down a few inches when Bucky sits back once more, finishing the task for you. He drops them on the floor beside the bed and much to your relief, lays right back over you, sending your core into a frenzy of pleasure when he grinds his clothed cock against your clit. You bend your knees and spread your legs more, giving him all of the access that he needs to practically fuck you through his boxers. And he does just that. He ruts into you, giving your clit just the right amount of pressure and friction. Moans fall freely from your lips now, needy noises mixed with a few profanities and heavy sighs that make Bucky wonder how the hell you’ll sound when he’s actually inside you.
            “God, I can’t wait any longer, shit.” He groans. In one swift movement, he pushes himself off of you and stands beside the bed, pushing his boxers down his thighs and letting them fall to his feet as you watch. His cock, freed from the tight fabric it’s been trapped in for far too long now, stands against his lower abdomen, boasting an impressive size and making your mouth water. You have to mentally curse yourself and remind yourself that this is just a means to an end, nothing more. It can’t be anything more. But fuck, if he isn’t the most well-endowed man you’ve ever seen. He feels a surge of pride when he notices the way you’re staring at him, licking your lips and not showing a single ounce of shame. That’s one thing he can thank the super soldier serum for.
            “I need you.” You say softly, looking up at him with desperation and lust painted across your features. Your pleading eyes nearly send him over the edge right then. He has to remind himself that you’re in pain, that he’s doing this to help you get through the night. He’s back on top of you in a second, and your legs spread automatically once again, like you’ve been under him a thousand times before and know just what to do. As soon as his tip brushes against the wet folds between your legs, you’re both losing touch with reality. He closes his eyes, stilling above you, forcing you to grind your hips upward in search his dick. “Are you going to make me beg?” You ask innocently, sliding your hands from his waist up to the sides of his neck, hoping the contact will make him look back at you. He opens his eyes slowly and meets your gaze, licking his lips as his eyes dart down to look at your mouth. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
            “No, I don’t think I’d last through a word of that.” Bucky’s admission spurs your hips into action again, but he pulls his away from you. He tsks softly, balancing his weight on his vibranium arm as he uses his flesh hand to pull one of your hands away from his neck, guiding it down to your clit. “You’re going to touch yourself when I tell you to.”
            “Fuck, why won’t you just—” Your impatience gains you exactly what you needed. Bucky doesn’t even have to pay attention, he doesn’t have to line himself up with your entrance, he simply snaps his hips down and forward, his cock instantly finding where it belongs and sliding in. You scream out at the unexpected intrusion, the sting of his cock stretching your walls almost more than you can stand. “Oh my fucking god.” You moan, biting down on his shoulder as he stills once again. He’s nice enough to give you a moment to adjust to the few inches he has inside of you before he so much as takes a breath. For a few seconds, every ounce of pain in your entire body is gone. You feel only bliss with him inside of you like this.
            “Stop fucking rushing me.” Bucky snaps, taking a deep breath as he fights to contain his own release. You’re so fucking tight, so wet for him. He hasn’t felt ecstasy like this since the first time he ever had a sexual experience, and even that was a muted version of this. It’s taking all of his focus to keep from filling you up with everything he has before he’s even started fucking you. You find yourself smiling, a real genuine smile. Not even solely from the bliss that you feel, but from how fucking funny it is that he looks like he’s losing his virginity right now. The man who’s over a hundred years old, fighting to compose himself so he doesn’t cum too soon. “Is something funny?” He asks, and only then do you realize that he’s staring down at you.
            “You’re close, aren’t you?” You tease, letting out a small laugh. The euphoria you’re feeling right now is unmatched. Bucky shakes his head, tsking at you again, before leaning down until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear, his stubble brushing against your cheek.
            “You know, I said I wasn’t going to make you beg for me to fuck you…” Something in his tone sends a chill through your whole body, and the smile falls from your face in an instant. In one swift movement, he snaps his hips forward and buries his entire cock inside of you, his swollen balls pressing up against your ass as he holds his position. You cry out from the mixture of pain and pleasure, seeing stars as your eyes fly shut. “But I didn’t say I wouldn’t make you beg me to stop.” You’re a moaning mess beneath him as he begins to thrust into you at a medium pace, making sure he pulls out nearly completely before thrusting into you again and again. You’re being as vocal as you’ve ever been, but with one key difference between this moment and every other moment that you’ve ever had sex with someone. You’re not saying his name. You won’t let yourself say his name.
            “Oh my god, oh my god that feels so good.” You gasp the words out as you fight to maintain control of your breathing. It’s obvious that encouragement does something for him when he picks up speed at your words, setting an unrelenting pace that has you sure you won’t be able to walk in the morning. “Just like that. Holy fuck, that’s it.” He groans and dips his head down, kissing your shoulder and sucking a mark on the smooth skin there. The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths and moans filling the room, and the weight of him on top of you has your mind reeling. This has to be enough to abate the chemical compound, it has to be. You haven’t ever felt this kind of pleasure, not a single damn time in your entire life.
            “Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Rub your clit for me, baby. Touch yourself.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s holding back. Using the hand that he previously led to your clit, you start rubbing fast circles, matching the pace of his deep thrusts. You can feel your climax rushing to the surface faster than it ever has before, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. “You’re close, aren’t you?” Bucky asks in the most teasing, condescending tone, paying you back for asking that exact question earlier. You moan out a needy yes and he smiles down at you, looking so fucking smug and confident. “Yeah, that’s it baby. You’re gonna cum on my cock while you wear my fucking name, aren’t you?”
            “Yes, oh, fuck, yes. I’m so close.” You can’t speak normally anymore, every word that leaves your lips is a sultry moan. Bucky leans back on his knees, his hands gripping your calves and pushing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. “Oh my god.” He thrusts into you hard, the new angle causing you to scream out as his cock brushes against just the right spot. Something about the way you scream for him makes him feral. He reaches a hand toward your neck, and you think he’s going to choke you, but no. He grabs onto the chain that his dog tags hang on and pulls you forward by it, until you’re nearly folded in half. His vibranium hand moves to grip the back of your neck as he fucks his cock into you relentlessly, his head falling back as he edges himself inside you.
            “I’m gonna cum, Y/n, I’m gonna cum inside you.” He groans out, his thrusts growing sloppier as he nears his release.
            “Please, please fucking cum inside me. Don’t pull out.” You beg, hearing how desperate you sound and not giving a single fuck. Bucky practically whines at the sound of you begging. He never knew how badly he wanted to hear that, and now that he’s heard it, he fears he’ll spend every waking second doing everything he can to hear it again.  You can’t help yourself. Tony’s words are still repeating in your head, you know that you need Bucky to cum inside you to have any chance at lasting relief tonight. You need it. “Promise me you won’t pull out.”
            “I won’t pull out, Y/n. Fuck, I’m gonna—FUCK.”
            “That’s it, don’t fucking stop. Just let go, cum inside me.” You encourage him with every ounce of energy that you have left. You’re thankful for the vibranium hand locked behind your neck as your head falls back.
            “Oh, shit baby, I’m cumming. Oh, my fucking…” Bucky cries out, his pace quickening for a few seconds as he pumps his load into you. You feel the hot spurts of cum painting your walls and filling you as full as you’ve ever been. The added pressure inside you mixed with his deep thrusts and your hand working on your clit sends you over the edge right after him, and your pussy clenches on his cock as your orgasm travels through you in waves of pleasure.
            “I’m cumming, holy fuck…” Your voice trails off as you temporarily lose touch with reality, your legs shaking and back arching as much as it can in your current position. Bucky holds you on his cock, thrusting into you at the perfect pace to prolong your orgasm. When you open your eyes again, his thrusts are slowing to a stop, and he’s staring down at you, his chest heaving with exertion and his cheeks glowing pink. Neither of you say a word as he lays you back on the bed, slowly pulling his cock out and helping you straighten your legs on the bed. You find yourself playing with his dog tags that are still around your neck, as he collapses on the bed next to you.
            “I feel…better.” You admit quietly, noting the distinct lack of pain in your body and the heightened sense of euphoria and fatigue you feel. You see Bucky nodding out of the corner of your eye, but he remains quiet, staring up at the ceiling. “You should sleep here.” You turn on your side to face him, fighting to keep your eyes open after such a powerful orgasm. You can’t even keep yourself awake long enough to find out if he has a response or not. You fall asleep right there next to him, still naked, totally blissful in your fucked out state.
            Bucky lies awake for a few more minutes after you’ve crashed. He also feels much better, but conflicted at the same time. You didn’t say his name once. Not one damn time. He was fucking you like your lives depended on it and his name never once left your lips. It shouldn’t matter that much, it’s not like you were making love or something. You were fucking to survive the night. He can’t blame you for maintaining some boundaries, but still. With how fucking perfect you sounded moaning everything else, he would’ve given anything to hear you say his name. Just once. As he drifts off into sleep next to you, he decides that the next time you fuck, he's not letting you cum until you say his name.
Next Part
TAG LIST (I suck at this, some of these tags definitely are not working so I apologize)
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pyro-chaos · 5 months
Text
Mike Schmidt x Reader
Pt. 1: And They Were Roommates…
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Summary: Prologue. How it all started.
Or, Mike and you develop the foundation for a relationship.
Tropes: Fluff, angst if you squint,
And they were roommates…
Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.
A/N: I’m actually super proud of this one haha, feedback is never required but appreciated anyway!!! Thank you!! Enjoy your read
-———-———
Mike knows you, but not well.
You live in a nicer house than his. Abby likes how your TV has more than just the news channels.
Max stopped answering Mike’s calls, and his aunt wasn’t around anymore.
You’ve babysat Abby before, but only briefly. Times that Mike needed to go to a job interview or pick up an extra shift and he couldn't find anyone else. Planned situations.
You were a last resort. He didn’t mean to overbook himself, but he did, and now he’s desperately hoping you won’t turn down a few extra dollars.
You answer Mike’s frantic knocks with wide eyes. You still have your work uniform on, and Mike has to actively suppress his wince.
“I’m so sorry,” he feels Abby squeeze his hand, “I didn’t know who else would be available.”
Mike doesn’t even try to suppress his relieved sigh when you wave him off and usher Abby inside. You - albeit awkwardly - invite him in, but he’s already running late.
You ask when he’ll be back for Abby, but he doesn’t know, so he says, tonight, I’ll call you and speed-walks to his car; tail tucked so far between his legs that he almost feels like crying.
When he returns to your home, he thanks you with a check and assurances that it’s just a one-time thing, and he couldn’t think of anyone else who’d be willing, but you just smile and offer him some dinner leftovers.
Then, a man walks in with a paper plate wrapped in saran wrap, and Mike feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand. You introduce the man as your boyfriend, Mike shakes his hand, but he’s practically choking on the air of judgment surrounding Oliver.
So that’s how you can afford a place like this.
Abby sleeps on the drive home, and Mike thinks about you.
Mike met you at work; maiding for a cleaning company for rich snobs. He…didn’t mind the days he worked with you. The manager often paired the two of you together for large estate-wide projects.
You never complained when he needed to bring Abby to work. If anything, you seemed like you had more fun on days he brought his little sister.
You asked Abby questions about her interests and even shared some of your own. Mike even once caught you packing extra frosted Animal Crackers from the lobby.
Sometimes, Abby would drag Mike into games of three-person hide-and-seek. Most often, he got stuck seeking. You laughed a lot on those days.
You even defended Mike when the manager wrote him up for not controlling his child.
He remembers apologizing with coffee for getting you written up. He also remembers you assuring him that, “the client needs to calm the fuck down. It’s not like we knocked over an Urn.”
He remembers how you made him chuckle.
The manager doesn’t pair the two of you up anymore. Mike would have to ask his co-workers to change shifts with him if he wanted to see you more often, but asking sounds awkward.
You corner him in the office during shift change the night after you babysit Abby. You ask if he wants to go meet for coffee during the break hour, your treat.
He wants to say he’s busy. The words rest on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know why you want to do him another favor. You're making him feel jumbled and awkward.
But then you mention the food, and I’ll meet you in the lobby if you want to carpool, just slips out of his mouth.
A big part of Mike thinks he offered to drive because he feels guilty for interrupting your evening. He doesn’t want to spend time with you, he only wants to pacify you enough to leave him alone.
The smaller part feels curious -for lack of a better term- why are you being nice? What’s wrong with you?
Mike drags his feet to meet you at the office. He hates that he’s about to give up his break for the Hi! How-are-you’s and the I’m-doing-well’s of small talk. He hates that he’s spending his energy on something so unnecessary. Plus, it’s not like he’s ever been friends with you.
He hopes that he hasn’t given you the idea that he cares more than he does.
The café is nice. It has hanging vines over the counters and windowsills. It smells like espresso and fresh soil. There’s an old-looking bookshelf right by a sunny window. It feels homey.
You buy Mike's food, and he tries to downplay how happy he gets when he has enough leftovers for another meal. The two of you talk. You ask if he has a consistent babysitter, and he dodges the question. You tell him your ‘free nights’ in case he hasn’t found a babysitter by the time he needs one, because, apparently, you have a lot of fun with Abby.
Mike feels the defensiveness creep up into his neck. The urge to bare his teeth and roll his eyes crawls into the forefront of his mind. He can take care of Abby just fine. He’s beginning to think that you think they’re a charity case. They don’t need you.
You must notice Mike tense because you change the subject. You tell him about how vinegar helps when cleaning smoke-stained walls, and the work-drama surrounding your shared boss.
His shoulders unwind, and he even adds a few jokes about bad clients. His input seems to sweeten the interaction like the honey in the tea he’s drinking.
He has fun.
He calls you the next time he needs a babysitter.
A few months go by. You, Abby, and Mike settle into a schedule. He learns that your boyfriend shares a car with you. Mike and Oliver don’t talk much, but when they do, they’re cordial.
Abby’s never complained about Oliver, but Mike can feel the simmering judgment, and wonders if Oliver has ever said anything to you about them.
Mike can’t pay you all the time. In fact, he can’t pay you most of the time, but you don’t seem to care. He wants to ask why.
You have a day job separate from the nights at the cleaning company - just like him - and the generosity you have with your time makes him feel itchy; like he owes you something, but you never bring anything up.
Anyway, he’s stuck with you. Who else would he leave Abby with on weekends and three nights a week?
You’re different today. Your eyes look glossy, and when Mike asks how it went with Abby, you just say it went well.
He doesn’t ask, but he wants to.
Friday night, you call and cancel babysitting Abby.
Your voice sounds small, and he hears you sniff a few times.
He doesn’t think your emotions are his business, but it feels like it’s the right time to ask anyway.
So, Mike asks, “Everything alright?”
You answer without a beat, “Yeah, just caught a bug from work, I’ll just need a day.”
Mike doesn’t know how he feels about the words I’ll just need a day. It feels like you’re justifying yourself. It feels like words a coworker would say to another coworker.
“I’m sorry,” you finish. It’s so soft and genuine that it makes Mike’s breath hitch.
“No,” he blurts, “No need to be sorry. I hope you feel better soon,” and he genuinely does.
Mike can’t afford to skip today's shift. He’s already received too many late notices from his landlord. One more and he’ll be evicted.
He’ll probably have to work through lunch this week if he wants to make ends meet.
He doesn’t know what to do.
So, Mike does the only thing he can think of. Mike carefully instructs Abby to never touch the stove, never to go near the thermostat, don’t answer the door unless she hears their secret knock, don’t answer the phone, and to keep the blinds and curtains closed.
Abby Pinky promises to do all of those things. Mike believes her, but writes a list and tapes it to the fridge just in case she forgets.
Abby asks why she’s not going to your house while Mike prepares a quick breakfast. He tells her you’re sick as he inhales his portion.
“Does she need medicine?” Abby asks.
“I don’t know,” he puts his dishes in the sink, “she said she’d be better by tomorrow.”
“Does she have medicine?”
“Probably, she’s a grown-up.”
“Does she have chicken soup?”
Mike doesn’t know how he’s supposed to know that, but Abby sounds genuinely worried about whether or not you have chicken soup. So, he stops what he’s doing and puts all of his attention on his sister.
“She’s gonna be okay Abby, she’s just not feeling her best. You’ll see her tomorrow.”
His sister looks at the table. Her little eyebrows furrow as she plays with her food. Mike feels… a twist of ugly things in his gut. He doesn’t like that he can’t protect Abby. He doesn’t like that he’s leaving her home alone.
That night, Mike brings her ice cream and lets her stay up past her bedtime.
Tomorrow comes too soon.
Mike tries to keep his nose out of your business, but the packing boxes littering your home stare into his soul. Your car is gone, too.
You welcome Abby, and you smile at Mike, but your eyes seem vacant. You don’t look like you’ve been sick, but your eyes are puffy.
At this point, Mike knows something’s going on.
He wants to give you something, but what could he offer? He’s not sure how close the two of you are. He’s not sure what you want from him.
In reality, paying you would be the best thing he could do for you, but he can't do that. So, he keeps his head down and asks if you need anything.
You get solemn after Mike’s offer; like you have bad news that you've been waiting to spring on him.
Mike clenches his teeth. He's expecting you to tell him you're done; he hasn't paid you, and you're starting to get annoyed.
"Actually, I have a huge favor to ask"
That's not what Mike's expecting, but he can't say no without sounding like an asshole. So he says, "Sure, what's up?"
You lick your lips again, “You can totally say no. It’s kind of a lot, and I know you’re already busy, but Abby goes to school around the same time I go to work, and I’d pay you for gas money” You're fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, "Would you be willing to give me a ride to work this week?"
Mike doesn’t even hesitate, "What time do you need to be picked up?"
You bring Mike a muffin. You nurse a coffee.
You seem quieter in the mornings, but Mike is just quiet. So, interactions only occur when you need to give him directions.
It’s not necessarily awkward, but Mike still feels tense and icky at the beginning.
Picking you up in the afternoons feels better on Mike’s psyche. You talk more, and he knows where the cleaning company is, so he doesn’t have to ask where to go.
Sometimes Mike brings you left-over meals from his day job. Sometimes you bring him and Abby a packed lunch.
Abby’s enrolled in an after school program until 6pm the two nights you don’t have her. Mike has those nights off, but he still picks you up and drops you off before getting his sister.
A few weeks go by.
You settle into a new schedule. You still don’t have a car. Mike never reminds you that you offered gas money.
“Thank you” you unbuckle your seatbelt.
Mike parks the car in your driveway, “It’s no problem”
It’s the least he can do, really. But he doesn’t want to tell you that he feels like he owes you.
You haven’t left yet, and Mike’s starting to feel confused.
You sigh before looking at him, “I might be getting a roommate soon”
The words sound casual, but you’re pursing your lips and fidgeting with your sleeves. Mike doesn’t understand why.
“Sorry, it’s just, I figured you should know.” You lick your lips, “I can’t afford this place without a roommate, and I don’t feel comfortable letting Abby around someone I don’t know”
He’s grateful for that, honestly. But something in his gut still drops. He has no idea what he’s going to do without your help.
“When?” he croaks. He clears his throat, “uh when do you think you’ll have one by?”
He doesn’t have to go get Abby for another half-hour.
You shrug, rubbing a hand on your hairline, “hopefully within the next few weeks.”
He nods, he’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure if there’s anything to say.
Then you gasp so loud that Mike literally feels his heart bang against his lungs. Your eyes go bright and you look into Mike’s eyes with an excitement that makes him feel slightly overwhelmed.
“You wanna move in with me?!”
Mike spends the rest of the half-hour in your kitchen, brainstorming how the three of you can move Abby’s bed with Mike’s tiny car. Without paying for a moving truck.
He has fun.
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komelrebi-san · 4 months
Text
gojo satoru is such a dilf, oh lord
oh no, i'm so whipped for this guy i think i might be mentally insane because how does he have the ability to make me so delusional can someone get me a gojo where can i get a gojo
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tw: MDNI!, age gap, single-handsome-neighbour trope, gojo is a rich single dad and his daughter is so damn cute, dom! gojo, fingering, slight choking, drinking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap kiddos!!), size kink, tummy bulge, daddy+mommy dynamics, oral f! receiving, praise kink, semi-public sex (idk if it counts??), lmk if there's more!
don't like, don't read.
a/n: oops, sorry this was accidentally a bit longer than i thought it would be lmfao. pls comment/dm if you want this to be made into a full oneshot!
you, fresh out of college and just landed a well-paying job, managed to afford a house in a newly built expensive condominium. the apartment next door was uninhabited, as far as you knew. though, you were told otherwise when a little girl tugged on your hand as you walked by the playground in your condo, saying that she didn't know where her daddy was.
perhaps, for a second, you'd cursed to yourself at how careless and heartless the parent must be to have neglected their own child, especially a child as cute as this one! her hair was white as snow, shining gently in the sun; her eyes were a sharp blue, twinkling cheekily as she tugged on your fingers with her small hands. feeling yourself completely beaten by her puppy eyes, you decide to stay with her until her father arrives.
and oh, goodness, to think that all negative thoughts you had about the parent would completely disappear at one glance.
because fuck, he's gorgeous, he's the prettiest man you've ever met. and conveniently, his daughter happened to be the spitting image of him.
but wait, he lives next door! he just moved in.
at first, he was just a friend - a soft-hearted man who looks way too young to be in his early thirties: the kind that always called you over to hangout when his daughter comes because he knew you adored her chubby cheeks and grabby hands; the kind that always offered to help you with work and groceries and whatever that needed fixing in your house; the kind that always cooks for you or buys an extra serving of food on his way home from work.
but somewhere along the lines of knowing him, something sparked between the both of you (and it may or may not have been first planted in both of your minds by his fatally cute daughter, when she asked if 'the pretty lady next door will be moving in').
but it probably started on the night when he put his daughter to bed slightly later than usual, and invited you over for a drink.
there's nothing wrong with that...right?
wrong!
maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was the yearning for affection, maybe it was the ache for a proper relationship. but you'd told him what happened when he asked why your hand kept going to your neck when there's nothing there.
cheeks flushed, you'd told him how your ex cheated on you with one of your closest friends from highschool. and somehow you can't stop reaching for the necklace that you used to never take off, the one he gave you for your one-year anniversary.
and sometime after that, it led to you sitting in gojo's lap, lips against his with his large hands dangerously low on your hips. sure, it felt wrong because he already has a daughter whom you can't adore more than you already do, it felt wrong because he was like, what, 10 years older than you? and it also felt wrong because you're sure you shouldn't be kissing him when his daughter is sleeping peacefully in her bedroom just down the corridor.
but hell, it felt good too. because god, you swear this man is so damn fine - his eyes in the prettiest shade of blue possible, his soft white hair, his tall lean figure that he hasn't failed to maintain despite being a single dad in his early thirties, his large hands and, oh goodness, his voice. you're positive that you probably almost died on the spot when you saw him in a suit, veiny hands reaching to tug his tie loose with an almost wolfish grin on his lips as he said hi too you.
so, in conclusion, he's the biggest dilf you've ever met and goddamn there would never be a smash or pass judgement for him, because he is and always will be smash.
(oh, and there was this once he got grumpy and pouty because of his friend that came over...what was his name again? geto, was it? anyway, geto was really nice towards you, but gojo got pissed about it. but then again, gojo looks really cute when he's angry.)
and so, it happened.
---
dilf! gojo that never fails to give you the sweetest compliments and cutest pet names that leaves you blushing profusely. oh, he's such a menace, he thinks that you're so cute when you blush so he just ends up teasing you all the time. it's never 'y/n', it's always gotta be 'sweetheart' or 'honey' or 'cutie', or at the very very least 'n/n-chan'.
dilf! gojo that thinks it feels so natural to call you and his daughter 'his girls', curtsy of that one time when you dozed off with his daughter on your lap as you babysat her. 'my little girls look so adorable,' he'd say, sitting next to you while swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him.
dilf! gojo that is simply casually affectionate towards those close to him, and it multiplied when it came to you, it just felt so natural. forehead kisses, head pats, hair ruffles (oh god, his big hands, sheesh). it felt right to sling an arm around your shoulder or around your waist.
dilf! gojo that loves hugging you - it's not even that sexual, he just loves having you close to him, feeling your warmth and your sweet scent envelope him, feeling your body right up against his. he thinks that you fit perfectly in his arms (bonus! if you're short, bc he likes to prop his chin on your head).
dilf! gojo that insists you call him 'satoru'.
dilf! gojo that just simply can't stop thinking about you after that kiss, because holy fuck your lips taste so good, felt so soft against his. you looked so small and delicate in his lap, he thinks he can't possibly forget about the sight. you look so pretty when you're blushing and tugging him in for another kiss, wait no, you look so pretty all the time.
dilf! gojo who doesn't fail to notice how you got upset when he asked you to babysit his daughter as he'd be away for the night on a date. oh, the pout you tried to hide. of course he noticed it, because he knew that you want him, and fuck, he wants you too. so bad. so, so bad (but still, you looked so terribly cute as you fixed his tie for him).
dilf! gojo that came back as early as possible, heart almost jumping out of his chest when he realised you'd already put his daughter to bed. oh, you looked so beautiful as you waited for him to come back, sat on the couch with a book in your delicate hands. and he wanted, no, needed to explain to you that you're all he wants, who the fuck cares about that girl he was set up with?
dilf! gojo that just simply couldn't hold himself back as he saw your lips part in shock at his explanation as to why the date was so boring. of course it was boring, she isn't you, and she will never be you. why would i be looking for someone else when i've got my beautiful girls waiting at home for me? he'd say. and it's true.
dilf! gojo that just climbed on top of you and smashed his lips into yours. holy shit, it felt so good, it's just like what he'd been chasing after since that drunken kiss with you on his lap.
dilf! gojo that is so intoxicated by your taste, your scent, everything about you. one his hands cupped your face, the other traced up your thighs. though, he doesn't forget to ask for your permission, a smile curving onto his lips when your hips buck up into his hand, a breathy whimper of 'yes, please' falling from your lips.
dilf! gojo that is so obsessed with the way your juices taste. just from licking his fingers, he was tempted into licking a long stripe along your folds, groaning when quiet whines and whimpers bubble up your throat. if he had the patience, he'd eat you out for hours...but not today, because his cock was so hard that it practically hurts, begging to be released from its restraints.
dilf! gojo that swore if he was any less of a man, he'd have cummed immediately as he slowly pushed his big cock inside you, groaning when you clamped down on him. ah, but you can't be too loud, because you'd wake his daughter. so he settled on wrapping a large hand around your throat, squeezing just so very slightly, his touch gentle but dominating.
dilf! gojo that possibly just got harder upon seeing your small figure beneath him, back arching up and head thrown back. there was a bulge in your tummy. fuck, you're taking me so good, sweetheart. such a good girl for me, oh shit. he'd say, lips on your neck, his other hand gripping your waist.
dilf! gojo that rutted into you harder and faster when he heard you call him daddy. fuck, everything that left your lips always sound so pretty. yeah? you want me to make you a mommy? fill your cute little pussy to the brim with my seed? yeah? you gonna be a good girl and take all my cum? you want me to breed you, yeah? he'd pant, moving his away from your throat to knead one of your tits, crushing your lips with his to muffle your moans.
dilf! gojo that came inside you with a groan, painting your insides white with his thick sticky seed, reaching for that spot deep inside your pussy that made you see stars.
dilf! gojo that thinks you look so pretty, fucked out and panting, tongue lolling out of your mouth and cunt clamping down on his dick like a vice, both your juices spilling out of you.
dilf! gojo is serious about wanting you and wanting to be with you.
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j-0ne25 · 7 months
Text
KIWI — [18+!]
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“Can you… cuddle me to sleep, please?”
His head snaps up to you, “Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m gonna sleep outside, okay?”
You’re the one to wrap their fingers around his wrist now, pulling him towards the van. “Nooo, it’s too cold. You’re gonna get sick. Stay a little longer?”
He sighs, “Okay.”
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🥝 SYNOPSIS: After graduating from college, you decide to travel around New Zealand and celebrate your freedom. But when you buy a van for the journey, the salesman scams you, selling the exact same car to both you and another person who’s no other than your childhood best friend you haven’t seen in years—and still have a huge crush on…
This is my entry for @skzwritingcafe 's July/August event “Summertime Confessions”! (I am a little over the deadline but still wanted to post this since the event inspired me to pick up this WIP again)
🌴 CONTENT INFO: chan x afab reader, dj chan, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, travel au, only one bed trope, fluff/angst/smut, mutual pining, based on a dream I had about my childhood best friend whose name happens to be felix but I changed this story to chan lmao, prices for cars might be unrealistic but a) i don’t own a car and b) i don’t know that much about new zealand’s economy (i did research tho!!), warnings and smut tags under the cut
🛻 WORD COUNT: 12.0K
🗺️ CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption (also includes excessive consumption once as well as mention of underage drinking in the past), short mention of breakup, scam/fraud, jealousy (both chan and reader), reader once calls chan daddy but sarcastically and non-sexually lmao
🧩 SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-protected sex, choking, spanking, creampie, name calling (doll, dear, slut, good girl)
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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Well. That’s a bumpy journey so far. What a start.
A drink spilled all over your shirt, crumbs of crisps in your hair and a bruise on your knee. And if this isn’t already too much for your stressed out and anxious heart—the man you’ve never ever expected to see again stands right in front of you.
But let’s start again from the beginning and how you ended up here. A quick recap, shall we?
Exactly one week and three days ago you finally graduated from college. Hard work pays off—more or less—and since your new full time job will start in a month, you finally have a little bit of vacation in what feels like years. 
So, that’s how you found yourself spontaneously booking a flight to Auckland, ready to spend some time and money traveling through New Zealand’s nature and taking in all the landscapes you’ve dreamt about. You just need this—need to do something different before you will actually start being an adult and drown in boring everyday life.
The flight went quite well but the airport you arrived at was a disaster—due to many delays of other connections you had to wait for your huge backpack for a few hours, totally exhausted and tired from the trip. The hostel you have reserved a bed in for your first night is overbooked and now you have to share the room with ten other people. Well, that is a normal hostel situation but you're just too sleepy to deal with anyone right now.
Which is why it’s ironic that you’re out of all places at a club instead. But no matter how tired you are, it was too noisy in the bedroom so you decided to go out again, hoping to get a little more tired so that you will be able to pass out due to exhaustion and fall into a deep slumber once you’re back.
And then the snowball effect hits you—the people in here are already drunk, too drunk, and possibly on other substances and you arrived sober. Spontaneous ideas aren’t your thing and maybe that's why you underestimated that whole scenario.
The music is quite good though and the drinks aren’t expensive as you would have thought—although they are still ridiculously high in alcohol percentage. So, you stick to sipping on one beer throughout your first hour of being here.
Every man inside here seems to pretend he’s in a zoo, hunting for the next woman that accidentally looks in his direction. It’s disgusting, really.
God. This is a very touristy place. Yes, you are a tourist, too. It doesn’t make any sense but you’re not here to make any sense. You’re here to forget about your exhausting travel to Auckland and you’re here to forget about the past two months or rather your whole life.
It’s a shame he’s still under your skin. That stupid ex boyfriend that decided to break up with you during the last week of you writing your thesis. You still managed to finish on time but you’ve been an emotional wreck ever since.
That was a lie. You’ve always been an emotional wreck but you developed to a whole new level.
However—that’s why you’re here now. Ready for a fresh start. Ready to possibly get a little tipsy and enjoy the music. At least the DJ is doing a good job. You seriously would have expected them to play some shitty cheap produced rap music or whatever young people listen to these days.
All those kids from far away that search for the meaning of life after highschool graduation by exploring either New Zealand or Australia—of course, far away from home, thinking they will come back with a whole new personality.
Well… the longer you think about that harsh thesis, the more you realise the irony layered in your thoughts. This might, partly, apply to you too.
Nevertheless, you didn’t come all the way to New Zealand and crossed the Tasman Sea to worry until your last brain cell melts.
You’re here to forget.
You’re here for a fresh start.
Far away from the troubles. Far away from your past. Far away from Sydney.
And everything that connects with this.
Maybe, the best thing is probably to get another drink—which is more than beer—one or two will be enough. After all, you don’t want to get shitfaced on the first night and the hot temperatures will do the rest anyway. You’ve got an important appointment tomorrow and need to appear at your best.
Heading towards the bar, you ignore the comments of the men that get a little annoyed about you pushing them to the side to get to your destination. Maybe they would react differently, if you gently shoved them aside, placing your hand on their lower back or—accidentally, of course—even a little more south.
After all, that’s what they usually do when the roles are reversed, right?
You manage to get to the bar, a little furious and still way too sober, someone’s drink spilled over your shirt and some crisps in your hair, but you waste no time and order your favourite drink.
You rummage around in your little purse, fishing out your wallet. Opening the pocket in which you stow away your coins, your fingers stumble across a shimmering object.
You’re not surprised. Yes, even after all these years you still have that necklace, carrying it with you wherever you go. You wonder if the magnet still works, if the charm would connect to its opposite one—the one that is owned by someone else. Of course, in case that person hasn’t thrown their necklace away yet. Which you’re convinced they have.
An hour and two drinks in, you’re hovering over the dance floor, still very much enjoying the great choice of music until the unexpected happens.
You take a closer look at the DJ, deeply mesmerised by his skills—when it clicks.
It’s him.
It’s really him.
The one and only Christopher Bang.
He looks so different but he also looks the same. His dimples are visible even in the dim light of the club. He wears his hair curly and black again—he used to straighten it a lot back then and occasionally get it bleached with your help. His face is filled with some piercings, his arms are decorated with tattoos.
His… wow. His arms.
Going to the gym and swimming must pay off.
But the worst part is…
You believe you’re gonna fall for him all over again.
And then his gaze meets yours.
Fuck.
You should have been more careful. Pretending this didn’t happen, you focus on the drink in your hand, watching the ice cubes swirl around when you stir the straw.
Until the unexpected happens once again.
He plays your favourite song.
Kiwi. Yes, you were a Harry Styles girl back then and even though eighteen year old Chan was too cool to admit it, he liked his music too.
What you don’t know is that Kiwi is still number one of his most listened songs on Spotify of all time until this day.
2017. Your last year of highschool. You listened to it all the time.
When Chan and you were cramming for your finals. When that guy from your chemistry class broke your heart. When you realised that you’re in love with your best friend.
You’ve always thought the both of you would end up together. Everyone thought so.
It’s an absolute cliché. You met when you were only one year old in kindergarten. Your mothers were best friends, glad about the fact the two of you could grow up together. Of course, they’ve always made some sort of joke about it—how Chan would marry you once you would be older.
For a long time you thought so, too.
He was your first kiss. Rather an experimental one when you were sixteen and just wanted to get it over with.
You had already had a small crush on him at that time and wondered, if he would return those feelings after making out with you. For a second you were so sure about it. You will never forget about the sparkles in his eyes when he let go of you again, lips even puffier than before from all the kissing.
Then he went on a date with Maya and everything went downhill.
That was in eleventh grade. They dated until your last year of highschool while you throughout that time… well, made zero experiences.
However, in eleventh grade as well, Chan started bringing you to Friday evening parties at the nearby beach. The people with you were other students from your year but they were Chan’s friends and not really yours. Those meetings basically only consisted of getting drunk in the sun and moonlight.
Maya was always there, too. For two years. Jealousy was basically eating you alive at that point but you obviously didn’t want to destroy Chan’s relationship. He seemed so happy. He really was. But you weren’t the one responsible for that.
One night at the beach, one of your classmates—Minho—and you got a little closer than planned. He used to be popular for being the typical high school fuckboy, quite known for changing his girlfriends every other week.
Of course, you fell for it, too. You’ve never regretted it. Although losing your virginity to him a week before graduating, right in the open, in the woods near the beach wasn’t the most romantic experience. But he was gentle. He made you feel wanted and loved although he was far from having any serious feelings for you.
But that was okay. You were still in love with Chan anyway.
This whole thing went on until the start of college and during that summer, your back then still best friend caught Minho and you one night.
Maya and him broke up some weeks after graduation since she was about to start studying in Japan and the relationship was basically doomed. There was another reason that you’ve never known about that also caused their bond to crumble.
Chan’s feelings for you.
But, well, it was too late now anyway. Even if there wasn’t Minho, Chan was still about to go to another country as well, leaving you in Sydney.
You get dragged back into reality when the song ends. However, your former best friend is still looking at you—a huge smirk decorating his beautiful face.
It’s an instinct kicking in. Survival mode, if you will. You turn around, almost bumping into a group of guys.
Downing the rest of your drink, you place the empty glass on some random table before making your way out of the building.
The way back to the hostel is a blur. You realise a little late that your eyes are stained with tears, ready to flood down like a waterfall.
You’ve never expected to see him again.
Well, you probably won’t another time after tonight. There’s no way you’re gonna go back into that club again.
🥝
You’ve underestimated the impact of seeing Chan again for a quick second. Your dreams were wild—partly in a bad way, partly in an embarrassing way that you don’t want to think about.
However, the fact that there’s a superstition that says that whatever you dream about when sleeping in a bed for the first time turns into reality, lets the spiral of worrying wander further.
Fuck. All these years in college you thought you were finally over him.
But Chan was your first love. The older you’ve grown, the more you have realised he has always been more than just a crush. 
But well—you missed that chance.
You’re torn between regretting leaving the club so impulsive and being convinced it was the right decision. You could spend the whole day wondering what would have happened if you stayed.
But well—you missed that chance once again.
After putting all your stuff into your huge backpack, you get ready for the day—taking an unfortunate ice cold shower in the shared bathroom and choosing a comfortable outfit—and leave the hostel once you’re ready.
The next bus brings you to a car dealership you made an appointment with online for today.
Because—you of course can’t start a van tour experience without a van, right?
You usually listen to your gut feeling and in at least nine out of ten cases it’s very dependable. However, with all the overthinking going on, your brain decides to ignore the fact that something about this store and the owner in specific feels… off. Quite oddinary.
The vans all look good, especially the emerald coloured one he is currently showing and presenting to you but you really should have spent at least a minute to look into the Google reviews… because they are either bad or fake. But you’re not aware of that.
You need a car anyway, it’ll be fine.
As long as the car functions and doesn’t cost you your whole year’s income, it’ll be okay.
“What do you say?” the salesman asks you, pointing at another vehicle in a similar shade to the previous one.
“Oh, I love the colour. What a beautiful green,” you tell him.
“It is! And it’s pretty spacious although it doesn’t look like it,” he exclaims.
The man walks around the car and opens it with the keys—he realised you seem to prefer this colour and luckily he’s got a few pieces to offer with it.
“What does it include in the price? It seems pretty cheap,” you ask, realising after speaking how negative your words come off.
But you saw a sign that read $ 2750 and fairly speaking—that is not a lot for a vehicle like that. Not even if you consider that it’s secondhand.
“That’s just because of the vehicle’s age,” the man starts explaining. He opens the door on the side completely, showing off the inside. “It has all the necessities. A mattress, enough storage space, a built-in table that you can let down when you open the trunk and it comes with free camping chairs.”
You take your time to examine all the details, checking if everything works fine.
But there doesn’t seem to be a single issue. He allows you to drive for a few minutes, take a short trip through the parking lot and everything is indeed absolutely fine.
There will probably never be a chance like this. You should definitely purchase it.
Or at least your very sad bank account is whispering that to you.
“I’d like to buy this one.”
The salesman brings you back to his little office which takes you at least a five minute walk but you don’t mind. You get that he wants to sell the car first before handing the keys to you.
“$ 2500 and it’s yours,” he offers once you arrive at the destination, lowering the price a little.
And you’re not here to complain.
Oh, Y/N. You should see all those red flags but apparently you’re a little colour blind. Not a surprise, considering that car you’re about to buy is green.
Or is it?
You pick out your wallet to grab your credit card, when you stumble across the magnet necklace again.
After seeing Chan for a brief moment, you start wondering again, if he still owns that necklace or—possibly—even wears it.
Okay. Slow down, Y/N. It’s getting ridiculous and delusional.
The beeping sound of the payment terminal wakes you up again. The salesman hands you the receipt, before grabbing a metallic object that is hanging on the wall behind him.
“Here. The keys for you.”
“Thanks,” you say, giving him a kind smile.
“I have to thank you,” he replies. “I’m off work now, have a safe trip.”
Oh.
Well, you’re probably gonna find your way back to the car, right?
In a parking lot filled with what feels like thousands of vehicles.
The walk back takes you at least fifteen minutes but there’s no need to hurry anyway.
You’ve got your car. You’ve still got enough money. You’ve got a great journey ahead of you. Everything paid off for this moment. You manifested it and now you’re luck is within reach.
Arriving back at near car, you place your huge backpack on the ground for a second in order to grab a thin jacket—it’s gotten a little chilly and you have to adjust things in the new van first, prepare Google Maps and make a general plan before you’re ready to start the adventure.
You close the bag again, before you walk towards the green vehicle.
You walk closer. And even closer.
Until you spot someone behind the car, hovering a big backpack—that isn’t yours—into the trunk.
You check again if it’s indeed your car but from what you can tell it is the one that the salesman showed and—most importantly—sold to you. It’s the same shade of sage, the little lanterns are hanging inside and the mattress has the washed out grey colour from earlier.
It is your car. The keys fit and you remember all the details from half an hour ago.
You unlock the door on the driver’s side and place down your bottle of water, before you carefully lean the huge backpack against the car. The waist bag stays on, the little keychain with the kiwi dangling around.
“Oh, what a surprise.”
Oh, God.
No.
That is impossible.
The odds are basically zero. Minus one hundred, if you will.
But of all people who could have been here, doing something to the car you just bought, it’s none other than Christopher Bang.
“Hell, no,” you let out.
Your former best friend walks around the corner until he fills your vision completely. It allows you to take in his full figure. He is wearing a black tank top, showing off his ridiculously muscular arms and—of course—fucking grey sweatpants.
“Hell, yes,” he giggles.
But why the fuck did he just put his backpack into the trunk of your car.
How did he even get it in there? How did he open the door?
You keep wondering until two objects cross your gaze.
A key.
And a receipt.
For that exact pastel green vehicle that you just bought.
“He sold that car to the both of us?!”
“Seems like it,” Chan says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Aren’t you… annoyed?! He fucking scammed us!”
Your childhood friend is so different. It’s not just that he looks older, even more tired than he used to in his teenage years but he is behaving so strangely.
Chan used to be the dad of the group, the one who took care of everyone, the one that made sure to pack enough water, tissues, sunscreen and plasters—just in case. He was the first person you came to after a fight with your parents or after getting back a test you failed.
He used to be your anchor. He used to hold you close when the waves hit the shore, clinging onto you.
But from the short conversation you can tell that five years can do a lot to a person. It feels as if there’s someone standing in front of you that looks a little like Chan but isn’t actually him.
“We can go back, if that’s what you want. But I’m not leaving the car to you. I spent four grand on it,” he says.
Your former best friend crosses his arms in front of his chest—just like he used to when you were children. At least this gives you a bit of comfort and familiarity, although it’s pretty stupid.
Then another thing clicks and you giggle.
“What’s so funny, huh?”
Chan’s words come off way more annoyed than he intended. This is not how he imagined to meet you again. He’s dreamt about this day for such a long time now—both wanting to see you and to avoid you for the rest of his life.
After all, you were the one who didn’t show up at the airport when he went to Seoul five years ago. Sure, you weren’t on great terms back then—although you never got into a fight, simply stopped speaking as regularly as you used to—but he expected you, his oldest friend, to at least say goodbye.
He’s still convinced it was because of Minho. Even though it didn’t seem that serious in the beginning, Chan has been wondering throughout all these years if that guy turned into your boyfriend.
But seeing you here alone lets those chances shrink.
Similar to his patience.
Opposite to those feelings that are reborn inside his heart.
“I only paid $ 2500,” you tell him.
Yeah, Chan definitely made a very bad deal here, for sure.
“Then you should leave it to me,” he replies with a smirk.
“Oh, no. Forget that.”
You turn around on your feet, yanking the door open to reach for your water bottle. Downing most of the liquid, you throw it back onto the seat.
Chan is still standing there, watching every move with a smile that turns into a smug whenever your vision crosses his.
“Then we should talk to him,” he offers.
Chan isn’t an asshole. He won’t take the car away from you. Besides that, he got scammed, too.
“He left the lot… said his work day is over,” you share, letting your gaze meet the dirty floor you’re standing on.
“What a coincidence… not.”
Chan lets his head sink down as well, feeling defeated. It could be such a great, almost romantic, reunion but something seems off.
You’re so different.
It feels as if there’s someone standing in front of him that looks a little like you but isn’t actually you.
“What do you want us to do?” he asks, his voice turning a little smaller.
“I’m not gonna be in a car together with you,” you immediately let out.
Chan wants to be respectful. That’s just how he is or, well, how he used to be. Five years can do a lot to a person, being left without a goodbye can break a heart—even of those who seem to be the strongest.
He won’t let you go. Hit two birds with a stone. He could tease you for two reasons—revenge and regret.
Of course, Chan was the one who used to be in an almost two year long relationship with another girl but that was before his feelings. At least that’s what he’s telling himself, up until this day, secretly knowing it’s not the truth.
It’s not entirely your fault. Even though Chan is convinced that you have never reciprocated those feelings at some point, he still feels awful for kind of ignoring you as his best friend once Maya and him became a couple.
He dragged you to all those bad parties at the beach and then complained that you decided to have your own fun with Minho.
Chan is such an idiot. He knows that.
That’s why he decides to take his chance this time instead of letting it slip.
“It doesn’t seem like you have another option, doll.”
Doll.
That’s new.
Chan used to have many nicknames for you.
Angel. Dear. Honey. Darling.
All platonic—of course.
Something tells you he’s only using it to tease you and you might be right about that.
“Let’s just drive together for the first—I don’t know—few days, we’ll get some money and then we’ll buy a second car, okay?”
His offer is the most rational option.
You don’t have enough money to buy another car and even if you were able to, you wouldn’t. The both of you got scammed and the salesman is nowhere to be found. So, just make the best of it and pray that you’ll get a second vehicle as soon as possible.
Or well—let him get the money for that. This isn't how you envisioned your trip, after all.
“I’m on vacation here. I wasn’t planning on getting a job and even if I was, I doubt I will find something that pays well,” you say.
Chan sighs, getting a little closer to you, mainly out of habit. Your heart skips a beat, nevertheless.
“I’m working as a DJ tonight again. In a club by the coast in Tauranga. I heard they hire for other jobs as well,” he informs you.
Shit. Unfortunately—or fortunately, however you view it—that is your next stop on your route anyway.
“What jobs?” you ask then.
He chuckles, a little embarrassed this time, while he simultaneously scratches the back of his head.
“Uhm… dancers.”
His voice is so quiet, almost inaudible, as if he’s hiding something.
“Dancers?”
“Well, yeah… more like… strippers but not exactly,” he replies with a shy smile.
“Yeah—no. I am not doing that,” you instantly shoot back.
Chan sighs again, looking up to the blue sky until his eyes meet yours.
“Well, either that or you have to spend additional days with me. The choice is yours.”
That fucking smirk.
He is already getting on your last nerve.
How the fuck are you supposed to survive this?
Maybe you should indeed drive a little with him—just for a few kilometres until you stop at a gas station and accidentally leave him there when he goes into the store to pay.
That sounds like a plan.
“Get in the car, then.”
🥝
You haven’t abandoned Chan yet as if he’s some dumb little puppy—although that isn’t far from reality, considering how he follows you everywhere and seems to constantly crave your attention.
The only hour of the day that he didn’t spend annoying the shit out of you was when you made a stop at the Hobbiton Movie Set to participate in a tour that he booked. He paid for your ticket since it was his idea and wish to join the journey but you would have rather had him save the money for the second car you need to buy.
However, it reminded you of your childhood—when Chan and you used to do Lord Of The Rings movie marathons. It had always been a tradition, an annual celebration, if you will. Until your paths separated.
You’ve spent a lot of time suppressing those thoughts, pushing away your guilty conscience that told you it was your fault how things ended. After all, you were the one who didn’t say goodbye. Something tells you this is why Chan has been teasing you since yesterday.
But in your opinion this isn’t the full story. Sure, you were the one to cut things off—or rather ghosted him—but he was the main responsible part of why your friendship started to crumble.
God, you were so dumb back then. Well, you were teenagers and they tend to be a little dense and stupid.
You keep wondering how things would be if the both of you would have been able to communicate.
But then again—you believe a little too much in destiny and it can’t be a coincidence that Chan and you met again. Twice. Just when you’re entering a new stage, when you’re finally at a point in your life that isn’t the most satisfying and happiest but you can say that you’re the truest form of yourself that you have ever been.
Maybe it’s meant to be.
However, you’re not ready yet to fully grasp that idea.
“Kiwi juice?”
Your head snaps towards Chan, who is sitting in the driver’s seat. You switched after the Hobbit adventure, currently on your way to the beach in Tauranga.
“Hm?”
He offers you the paper carton in his hands.
Fuck. Those pretty hands. You could get lost at the sight.
Pull yourself together, it’s getting embarrassing.
“You want some? It’s the brand from… when we were younger,” he says, taking a little pause in between the words.
He’s nostalgic, he can’t deny it.
Chan has been wondering if it can really be a coincidence that the both of you met again.
Twice within twelve hours.
“Oh, sure,” you say, reaching for the juice. Your hand brushes his for a second in the process and your heart skips a beat, synchronising with Chan’s a second later.
When his gaze switches back to the road ahead of him, yours stays fixated on his face. You think he doesn’t notice but he does. However, this time he holds back that teasing comment that is tingling his tongue.
Happiness erupts on your face, when you taste the kiwi juice again for the first time. They’ve always been your favourite fruit—of course—and it would be a lie if you said this didn’t have an impact on you for choosing New Zealand as your travel destination after graduation.
“Is good?”
You nod, smiling at Chan and he gives you the same expression. It feels so natural—you look back into those same beautiful brown eyes from five years ago.
A thin pink layer appears on his cheeks and Chan is fast to bring his attention back to the street.
You can’t hold back the enormous smirk that is decorating your face now.
The journey flies by, until you reach the campsite and search for a nice spot to stop the car. Just when he’s about to turn off the engine, no other song that Harry Styles’ Kiwi is playing again. The both of you chuckle, suddenly feeling some kind of connection again.
Oh, Lord. That is gonna be an interesting evening.
Especially, once you remember the job Chan mentioned.
“Wait–“ you say, when you have gotten dressed and join Chan again who is currently busy preparing some dinner.
“What is it? You don’t like pasta anymore?”
You take a closer look at the dish he is currently cooking, as the delicious scents start entering your nostrils. Nostalgia hits you like a fucking train on highspeed once more.
“I– I do, that’s not what I meant.” Sinking down on the seat next to Chan, you help him place down the plates and cutlery. “I am… I don’t think I can do this… dancing job. I know it’s unfair if only you are working, especially since you spent the most on this car but I just can’t–“
“Woah, slow down,” Chan says. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what has gotten into me earlier, I just wanted to… tease you, I guess. The club does hire dancers but you seriously don’t have to do this.”
“Okay,” you let out with a small voice and relief washing down your spine.
The pasta is finally ready and served. Chan’s cooking skills seem to have improved by at least ten levels since high school and you compliment him, causing the blush to come back to his cheeks again.
“Do you still want to come to the club with me, though?” he asks or rather offers.
You’re unsure. If you’re honest, you’re not in the mood right now for partying, you would rather have some introvert time and maybe you can get that once Chan leaves to work.
“I… I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit, I’m still tired from yesterday, the flight to Auckland was kinda exhausting.”
What a pity. He would have loved to have you there. Now that Chan has finally gained some confidence and feels the chemistry between the both of you come back to what it used to be—although so many things are still left unspoken—it would have been a great chance to at least build some trust again.
He kind of regrets annoying you in the beginning, pretending to be some douchebag although you deserved the initial teasing. But he rather wants to get closer to you all naturally and he does still believe that the both of you meeting is a sign. A fucking obvious neon sign.
It is ridiculous that after all these years, his feelings haven’t changed in the slightest for you.
He hopes that he won’t make that much money tonight so that you have to travel around together for a little longer.
“Sure. The club is straight this way, like two hundred meters, in case you change your mind.”
🥝
You did change your mind. A nap later and the clock hitting half past midnight, you decide to at least check out the venue. Getting ready takes you a little longer than expected but this can mainly be blamed on the way you packed your things in the huge bag.
You decide to go for a dark shirt combined with a skirt that has pockets—yes, pockets! Your favourite sneakers complete the look and transport you to the club. You follow the sandy path until you reach your destination.
Considering the night is already in full swing, it doesn’t take the employees long to check your ID and sell you a ticket. The venue is partly in the open—turning this into a party by the coast. A lot of people got rid of their initial outfit, deciding to stay in their swimwear. You’re glad you did the same, choosing a bikini over a bra and panties as if you already expected it.
The atmosphere is phenomenal—you’re glad you came here. You missed being at the beach. It’s where you belong. It’s where you truly feel at home.
A beautiful melody fills your surroundings, immediately pulling you closer to the bar that is located near the stage. You order a drink, before you head back into the crowd of people.
Chan—busy showing off his skills—spotted you right away. Even in a gallery filled with the most beautiful art pieces, he’d still be staring at you.
You catch him observing you, allowing your eyes to connect with his and he gives you a soft smile. It’s when your two drinks into the night, that you notice a shift in the situation.
Of course, you aren’t the only person having alcohol and some fun and it’s a club at a very touristy place after all. So, you shouldn’t be surprised that a lot of people, especially women, are approaching Chan, probably asking for certain songs, complimenting him, flirting with him.
It’s mainly groups that try to start a conversation with him, giggling along whenever he replies to one of their questions. That’s fine. You’re fine.
He's a DJ. He is at work and just doing his job, maybe hoping to get tipped or something.
It’s alright. Really. Until those groups turn into individual women that gather up enough courage to talk to him alone. The conversations—despite the insane noise—become longer and he gets closer to them.
An hour passes and another hour follows, filled with girl after girl flirting with your former best friend.
Another one approaches him. She’s even more beautiful looking than the previous one and your stomach turns when you realise she looks a little like Maya.
It’s not her—without a doubt. But when you see the smile on Chan’s face and how he leans closer to her to catch what song she’s suggesting, you know he must have a type.
That type being quite the opposite of you. 
You try to not read too much into his mimics, concentrating on the sound of the music roaming around and the taste of the alcohol on the tip of your tongue instead. 
Then you see him reach for her phone, definitely typing down his number.
That’s it. You’ve had enough.
Why the fuck did you have to meet him again?
Why the fuck is he flirting with all these women?
Why the fuck is he flirting with you too?
And most importantly—why are you jealous?
You spin around on your feet, storming towards the bar. With your back turned to Chan, you don’t see the enormous smirk he has on his face once again. He’s not oblivious—he noticed you staring at him for literal hours and he would be lying if the very obvious jealousy that you are carrying isn’t the main reason for his flirting in the first place.
He enjoys seeing you like this. Chan would have never believed to be such a tease with someone but you seem to provoke a side of him that has been slumbering inside him, waiting to be woken up.
The women that approach him from now on finally become transparent—it’s not as if he’s seriously been interested in any of them, flirting is sometimes part of his job and you shouldn’t read too much into it. However, Chan will use whatever to his advantage when it comes to getting a reaction out of you.
In the meantime, you order a vodka shot at the bar, downing it in one go before you immediately get another one. And another one. In this angle, Chan can’t tell what and how much you’re drinking but when he sees you come back, dangerously confident, heading towards the dancing stage, he knows it’s more than you’re possibly able to handle.
There are other guests on the stage as well, having some fun, letting out their inner desires, getting loose. The paid dancers are somewhere else but it’s still ironic that you’re becoming the spotlight of the whole club now—after being all shy with dancing.
Chan is a bit worried, if that’s really what you want to do or just the alcohol speaking. But you seem to feel comfortable and you really enjoy what you’re doing, you can’t deny that. He still keeps an eye on you—both for caring but also absolutely selfish reasons.
It’s alluring, how you sway your hips to the melody of the songs he’s playing, how your body moves to the beat so perfectly. Chan knows you’ve always been into dancing and music but unfortunately were too insecure to show it.
You’re having the time of your life, you really are.
Until you feel that last shot kicking in, realising it was one too many.
Leaving the stage, you sit down on some sofa for a bit, feeling your head spin like a carousel. When Chan has chosen the following song and switches his gaze back to the dancers, he can’t find you anymore. Hastily, his eyes roam through the club and he feels his chest tighten in anxiety. Possibly, you just went to the bathroom but you are also extremely intoxicated.
Searching for a nearby colleague, he informs them that there is an emergency that he has to take care of. Not quite pleased, the person tells him that if he leaves now, he will be fired from the job.
But Chan doesn’t care. All he cares about is you and your well-being. 
He knows you enough to know that you tend to underestimate the effect alcohol has on your body, at least it’s been like this when you were teenagers. Leaving his own stage, he starts searching for you.
You’re not sitting on the sofa anymore. A kind girl gave you a bottle of tap water and offered to comfort you, however, your emotions washed over you, making you rush towards the beach. She follows you, wanting to know you’re okay.
That’s where Chan finds you, lying in the sand, absolutely shit-faced. The girl next to you immediately senses him approaching you and enters defending mode.
“Who are you?”
He realises now how weird the situation for her must be. He’s a man she hasn’t seen with you before, so of course, hesitation is the right option.
“I’m her friend, just wanted to make sure she’s okay,” he explains.
Chan feels awful for not grasping it sooner. Sure, it was comforting seeing you have fun but he underestimated it. But then again—how was he supposed to help you while being at work?
He’s here now. That’s what counts.
“You really think I would believe that, hm? Any guy could just say that, you better leave her alone,” the girl says, severely annoyed by Chan and worried about you.
“Yeji… it’s good,” you tell her, “I know him. We are on vacation together, we’re childhood friends.”
She lets out a relieved sigh, giving Chan a small smile and telling him to sit down next to you as well.
Unfortunately, in your drunken state you don’t notice him getting closer because, if you did, you wouldn’t say those following words at such a high volume, when you lean towards Yeji.
“I have a huuuge crush on him but he doesn’t seem to notice.”
Chan’s heart stops beating.
What?
This can’t be. His pulse is running at the speed of light and he feels himself getting dizzy now, despite not having even a single drop of alcohol in his system.
“Okay, so you’re good?” Yeji asks.
You nod and pull her into a hug.
“You’ve got my number, just in case, okay?” she says, before saying goodbye and leaving you alone with your friend.
Chan makes sure you drink the rest of the water until the bottle is empty, as he watches the shimmer of the night sky reflect in your eyes.
“Y/N,” he begins.
“Huh?”
You look at him with big eyes, almost like a deer that stops in the middle of the street when a car approaches the animal.
“Let’s go back,” he says, getting up from the ground. Chan offers you his hand and helps you stand on your feet again. You’re stumbling a little but he makes sure to help you gain back your balance, holding your figure.
“Dancing? Sure, but my head it– spin-spinning and–“
“No, to the van,” he says.
You pout, letting your shoulders sink.
“But I wanna daaance, pleeeaaase…”
Chan seems frustrated.
“Party’s over, come on.”
His fingers wrap around your wrist, dragging you after him, as he guides you towards the campsite.
“You’re so mean!”
Chan sighs, deciding to not pay too much attention to your childish behaviour. After all, you’re pretty drunk and he’s glad you’re fine. Going back to the club is the worst idea.
First, you’re not in the right state of mind to be dancing again. Let alone drink something.
Second, the security will probably tell you to leave anyway, once they notice how intoxicated you are.
And third, it would be embarrassing for Chan to go back there, after he basically got fired.
“We’re gonna get you sober and ready for bed, yeah?”
You pout again, letting a whimper follow, as you obediently walk next to Chan.
“Okay, daddy,” you reply sarcastically.
He ignores your teasing now—and the way this dumb name makes him feel flustered—instead helping you brush your teeth which turns out to be a lot more complicated. You’re so absolutely stubborn and not able anymore to control your body and balance. However, he manages to take off the rest of your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style for sleeping.
There’s one thing that’s still on the list. You can’t go to sleep with your outside-clothes.
“Pyjamas?” he asks you.
“In the backpack.”
Chan gets up from his seat, making you drink another glass of water, as he walks towards your bag. You’re carrying so much stuff with you that it seems impossible for him to find what he’s looking for. His fingers accidentally brush over a pile of panties, feeling the lace material against his skin. Your childhood friend is glad that the blush on his cheeks isn’t visible in the dim moonlight.
“I can’t find your sleepwear,” he says, giving up.
“Then I’m gonna just stay in my party outfit.”
“Oh, no,” he says, “you’re not wearing this worn stuff from outside on the mattress.”
You remember now. Chan has always been like this. When you used to visit him as a child, he made you change your “outside clothing” in case you wanted to sit or lie down on any type of furniture in his parents’ house. 
Your pants came in contact with the bus seats, that’s yikes, Y/N, he used to say. As a teenager you didn’t care but the older you got, the more you adapted to this philosophy.
“Fine,” you groan.
Chan decides to just grab something to wear from his backpack, it’ll do. He finds a nice oversized shirt and some boxers that he hands to you.
“I… you want me to wear your underwear?”
He sighs. Once again. “It’s clean, oh my God. Just change your clothes already.”
The curly haired turns around then out of respect, while you slip into the baggy fabrics.
“Done.”
“Good,” he says.
You crawl into the van, sinking down on the bed sheet, as you feel the weight of the mattress shift underneath you.
Chan gets ready for bed, too. In the meantime, you plug your phone to the power bank and send Yeji a quick text.
She answers within a few seconds.
[Yeji 04:57]: Sleep well, darling. Thanks for texting me. Goodnight 💕
It doesn’t take your phone long to receive another message from her.
[Yeji 04:58]: Also, get that man. He seems to like you back ;)
You chuckle, still way too tipsy to fully grasp what she says. How is she supposed to tell? She spent like three minutes with him and doesn’t even know you that well, either. Yeji is just a random but very kind girl you met while waiting in line in the bathroom.
Chan drags you out of your thoughts when he walks around the car, stopping in front of you to place his toothbrush back into his bag. He’s changed into some sweatpants, not bothering to wear a shirt to sleep.
Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still swimming in your veins.
Maybe it’s the light of the lanterns tinting his naked chest in the prettiest glimmer.
Maybe it’s the pent up feelings and all those unspoken words.
Or it’s all of those things combined that make you speak the following words, “Can you… cuddle me to sleep, please?”
His head snaps up to you.
“Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m gonna sleep outside, okay?”
You’re the one to wrap their fingers around his wrist now, pulling him towards the van.
“Nooo, it’s too cold. You’re gonna get sick.” Chan can’t resist that annoying pout on your face. “Stay a little longer?”
He sighs, crawling into the van as well, as he takes the space next to the door.
“Okay.”
It doesn’t take you long to fall into a deep slumber, while Chan holds you close—you being the small spoon and him being the big one. Whereas you are already deeply occupied in your dreams, insomnia seems to take the best of him again.
He can’t believe he’s got you back in his life.
He can’t believe that you’re getting along again, especially compared to eighteen hours ago after buying the van.
He can’t believe you told your new friend that you have a crush on him.
If that’s really the truth that would mean… that would mean you have had that crush for some time, right? Considering you only met one and a half days ago, you must have already had feelings for him before that.
Fuck. Chan is possibly the luckiest guy on this earth. He dearly hopes this isn’t that dream he’s dreamt a thousand times before.
Just when he’s about to finally get some rest, too, you stir around and change positions, before your eyes open and in your half asleep state, you start speaking,  “You left, Channie…”
His own eyes widen, pulling you closer. Maybe you’ve got some of those nightmares again that you used to have when you guys were younger.
“But I’m here, darling,” he reassures you, using that nickname again for the first time.
“No,” you mumble, “you left and went to Seoul five years ago. You left me.”
His heart stops and then breaks into a thousand tiny pieces.
That might be true but you were the one to literally ghost your lifetime best friend.
“And you didn’t say goodbye, Y/N,” Chan spits back.
He can tell you’re not fully awake. Maybe that’s what gives him enough confidence to speak what’s on his mind. It feels so good to finally let that out.
God, he’s such a coward.
Your eyes open a little more, although you’re still not really awake.
“Is that why you’re mad at me? Why you were teasing me?” you ask him.
He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, “Yes.”
You roll onto your back, hiding your eyes behind the palms of your hands.
“Chan…”
He interrupts you, already regretting that he told you about his feelings, “Just forget it–“
“I couldn’t say goodbye…”
“Just… cut it–“
“My heart couldn’t handle it,” you say, “I was, well, I still am too much… too much in love with you to let you go.”
That’s when you doze off back into sleep.
It’s real. You’re real. Your feelings for him are real.
All these years. All the time waiting pays off—just for you to confess in your sleep. Well, better than nothing. Chan will see what the next day holds for you.
He knows you won’t hear him. However, he still speaks his words out loud, when he says, “I love you too, Y/N.”
🥝
You wake up around two in the afternoon the next day, feeling your pulse pumping inside your head.
Chugging down the rest that’s inside your metallic water bottle, you come to the realisation that you have no idea how you made it back to the van last night.
Speaking of—you find yourself alone in here, the space beside you still a little warm but that could also be caused by the sunbeams that are making their way inside the vehicle.
When you push the blanket away, you observe yourself in clothes that aren’t yours. Looking down at the bottoms, you notice you’re wearing boxers, probably Chan’s.
Why are you wearing his clothes? You guys weren’t so drunk that you… no, Chan wouldn’t do something like that.
However, you were indeed drunk. That is a fact. Otherwise you wouldn’t have a mental blackout about yesterday’s night.
“Morning,” Chan says, appearing in front of the van’s door. “I made some tea for you.” He hands you the beverage, painfully obviously trying to avoid your gaze.
What the hell happened?
“How are you?” 
Chan takes a seat beside you, leaving respectful space between the both of you.
“I’ve been better before. I feel very tired and sore. I also don’t remember much… my mind is blank after… getting up that stage– oh God, I probably embarrassed myself and–“
“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “You were the life of the party.”
You roll your eyes, “That sounds even worse.”
He chuckles and you join him. It feels good and so familiar to be with him.
Chan feels like comfort. He feels like home.
“Do you feel good enough to go on a two and a half hour trip to Cathedral Cove?”
Wow. Your plans once again seem to match.
“That was my next stop on my route, too,” you tell him with a smile.
“I know. I saw the little sheet of paper you pinned to your backpack. Sorry, I hope it’s okay I read–“
“Of course,” you say.
“Then, take your time to get ready. I have a job again at a club tonight but only for the first few hours.”
After taking a shower—a cold one again—in the public bathroom of the campsite and changing into some comfortable shorts and a baggy shirt, you head back to the van. Chan hands you a bowl, filled with your comfort breakfast.
“You made porridge?”
He nods, “Yeah. We didn’t have fresh fruits and the little market over there was already closed, so I used canned tangarines. It tastes good, though.”
And it really does. The citrus fruits and sugar give you a lot of energy and fight against your hangover, the oats fill your stomach and awaken you.
“Did you make enough money yesterday?” you ask Chan, once you’re done with eating and washing the dishes, before packing everything.
“About that,” he starts, scratching the back of his head.
“What happened?”
“They kinda fired me… because I took a break to look if you were alright,” he explains.
Shit. That’s all your fault. You feel like a helpless child that he has to look after. The fact you drank so much because of your jealousy, lets your guilty conscience wash all over you.
“Chan, I– fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have drunk that much I am so dumb–“
“Hey, it’s fine,” he says. “I don’t care. I don’t want money from a company like this, anyway.”
He waits until you give him a little nod. Chan hovers your backpacks into the trunk again, before you take the passenger’s seat.
The door to your right opens, as Chan sinks down next to you, starting the engine.
“Shall we?”
🥝
You got a little more sleep while Chan drove the two of you to the new destination. Dinner was on you tonight—your speciality, instant ramen, homemade by you. Maybe not the most nutritious meal, but a good and greasy base for possibly drinking alcohol again.
However, when entering the venue—well, it’s really just four neon lanters creating a makeshift square at the beach—you decide to ditch the drinks tonight, instead going for lemonade and water. Once again, Chan isn’t drinking either, knowing he is more focused on his work when he’s sober.
His talent is insane. He even makes you enjoy songs that you don’t like at all, solely by the remix versions he creates. You’ve always known that he’s a virtuoso. 
You’re feeling freedom rush through your veins, letting go of all the worries, as you dance along to the beautiful music.
Until you take a look at Chan and once again find a group of women surrounding him.
That’s when it clicks.
You got drunk yesterday, after watching the exact same scene that is turning into a déja-vu now. He flirted with them and as immature as you were, you decided to drown your jealousy in vodka.
Yeji, the kind girl from the bathroom, comes back to your mind. How she took care of you until Chan was–
Oh, no. 
You also remember now how he got you ready for bed—which explains the shirt and boxers—and how you begged him to cuddle you to sleep.
There’s another distant memory in the back of your head that you can’t quite grasp yet. You can’t differentiate if it was a dream or not, but something tells you, you poured your heart out to Chan and accused him of leaving.
You don’t remember your exact words. You do remember, though, how you told Yeji about your crush on Chan, while he was literally next to you.
Fuck. You’re so embarrassing. This year’s world wide loser award goes to none other than Y/N Y/L/N.
“Fancy a drink?”
The male voice startles you at first, however, you still turn around to search for its owner. In front of you is standing a beautiful man, a bit taller, his long black hair almost reaches his shoulders.
You said you didn’t want to drink. You want to be mature. But when you catch a glimpse of a girl whispering something into Chan’s ear, you know you’ve had enough. He doesn’t like you back, give up already. You confessed having a crush on him and he doesn’t do anything about it, time to live your life and show Chan what he is missing.
“Hm, one drink won’t do much harm,” you tell the guy.
He pays for the beverage and every water and lemonade you order after. It’s fun spending time with him. He’s without a doubt the best dancer you’ve ever seen, encouraging you in your own moves.
You didn’t get his name when he introduced himself due to the noise inside—you don’t know if he’s called Hyunjin or Hyungmin but it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’ll help you get your mind off all the mess nonetheless.
He’s dancing behind you, his crotch pressed against your ass, only a few layers of fabric separating you from him. His lips land on your neck, destined to draw a pretty pattern on your skin.
The clock hits two. Chan’s shift is over.
And you can be sure he will waste no time to do what he’s wanted to do since that prick laid his hands on your hips.
A minute later, Hyunjin feels someone touching his shoulder, making him pull away a little from you.
“Sorry, but the party’s over.”
Why is Chan always ruining the fun? You aren’t even tipsy. What’s his fucking problem?
“What do you want, dude?” Hyunjin says, clearly annoyed.
You stay in his hold, but your gaze finds Chan’s.
“I want you to let go of my girl and piss off, to be honest,” he answers, clicking his tongue.
What?
Your head starts spinning like yesterday, but this time you’re drunk on emotions.
“Man– I didn’t know–“
Hyunjin doesn’t get to finish his sentence, when Chan is already dragging you out of the club and towards the empty campsite.
The curly haired doesn’t say a word, but the tense atmosphere fills the whole beach even until you get closer and closer to your car.
Chan is furious. Sure, those girls talked to him as well, flirted a little but that’s what all there was. But when he saw Hyunjin’s lips on your neck, that straw broke the camel’s back.
Meanwhile, you feel like you’re in trance. You’re obediently following him just until Chan spins you around and watches your back meet the side of the green car.
He cages you between his firm body and the vehicle. The sight makes your knees go weak, makes you lose even the last molecule of sanity. You know you won’t have to say much, it’s obvious what it is.
Maybe it’s the fact you’re thinking clearly, no alcohol in your system this time.
Maybe it’s the way the moonlight covers Chan’s muscular arms and how the stars reflect in those beautiful brown eyes.
Maybe it’s the pent up feelings and all those unspoken words.
Or it’s all of those things combined that make you speak the following words.
“Just kiss me already.”
Chan may be an idiot from time to time, but he won’t let this chance slip. His lips smash into yours, making time stand still, letting the earth and the whole fucking universe stop for a minute.
Every cell in your body wants him. 
And you show him exactly that, when you invite his tongue in to explore the insides of your mouth. Your heartbeat starts echoing in your ears and a moment later, it synchronises with Chan’s.
His hands find their way to your hips, wandering a little further until they meet your ass. He squeezes the soft flesh through the fabric of your skirt, listening to the beautiful moan you let out.
It’s only now that you get aware that you put on the metallic necklace tonight—your friendship accessory that connects you, literally, with Chan. You wanted to get some reaction out of him. But he doesn’t seem to have noticed yet.
He’s too busy placing one kiss after another on your lips anyway, until he decides to change the course and wanders down with his artwork. Your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, back to your lips, right in that order. He wants to make sure that every centimetre Hyunjin touched, will be drawn over.
He’s driving you insane. You already feel yourself getting absolutely lightheaded. Maybe that’s how you justify that next whimper that spills from your lips, when his hand travels between your legs. He wonders if you put on a skirt on purpose but, nevertheless, this will make his mission a lot easier.
“Chan– stop teasing–“ you let out, knowing you won’t be able to withstand any anticipation.
But Chan isn’t done yet with provoking you. Not after you danced with that guy in the club, not after you let him kiss you like that.
“Don’t complain too much or I’ll fuck you against the van, here outside, for everyone to see.”
Oh, God. In the state you're in, you’d probably even allow him that. However, after falling asleep in his arms on the bed inside the van, you should finish what you’ve started exactly there.
And Chan seems to read your mind, as it seems.
“Get your pretty ass on the mattress, doll.”
But you decide to change plans a little, for the sole reason to tease him now. Beating him with his own weapons sounds like the most entertaining thing you can imagine.
Your lips land on his neck, rough bites leaving an astonishing memory of tonight. Chan’s the one to let out a moan now, as he feels his boxers tighten, his growing erection brushing against the fabric.
But he won’t let you defeat him so easily.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns you. Chan catches your face, squishing your cheeks together in an attempt to make you look at him, which you immediately do.
“I’ve had enough of your behaviour.”
His other hand is back between your thighs, disappearing under your skirt, wandering up to your very much soaked panties. Of course, he has to chuckle out loud, when the tips of his fingers brush over that embarrassingly wet spot.
“For me, baby?”
But you won’t let him defeat you so easily.
Chan finds it hilarious that you’re getting shy now but your body speaks what your mouth doesn’t want to—especially, once he carefully pushes the laces aside, grazing over your wetness.
“Fuck– please–“ you let out.
Well, it seems as if you let him defeat you easily. But you don’t care.
“Get inside, doll.”
He yanks the door of the car open, making you crawl inside.
And he wouldn’t be Chan if he didn’t tell you to take off the skirt before sitting down on the bed sheets. After all, you’re wearing outside clothes. Or maybe it’s just a cheap trick. However, when he takes off his jeans as well, leaving him in his underwear and the view of the pretty outline of his hard dick, you giggle a little.
When lying down on the soft cushion, the pendant that’s attached to the chain somehow wanders underneath your shirt, hiding it from Chan completely. But you don’t even notice. Not when the man above you is ready to devour you like a five star meal.
“Maybe I should fuck the brat out of you, make you come to your senses again,” he says, making you scoot a little more upwards.
He places your legs over his shoulders, before he starts kissing the inner sides of your thighs, gradually wandering towards your clothed core. A long stripe meets your panties, as you desperately hold back another moan.
“You’re all talk but no doing, Chan,” you let out.
He just chuckles and wastes no time to pull down your underwear, getting right back to his task. 
“Weird way of begging, but if that’s what you’re asking for…”
As if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs even further, allowing your friend better access. His tongue comes back into play, as his fingers help him push your pussy lips apart.
Then your mind turns off.
“I– Fuck–“
It feels like heaven. The kitten licks. The vibrations his moans send through your whole body. His fingertips that circle around your throbbing hole.
Chan pushes two digits in at once, adoring the little whimper you let out. Your walls immediately clench around him, sucking him in, telling him how much you missed him.
It’s embarrassing how close you already are. But you’ve lost track of time—you can’t tell if it’s been seconds, minutes or hours that Chan’s head has been between your thighs.
You’ve never been with a guy that enjoys eating pussy that much. How you regret not doing this sooner with him…
“Chan– I–“
He just hums against you, enjoying every bit of your helplessness. You should have done this sooner. How he regrets not confessing to you earlier…
Squelching sounds are filling the car and in the back of your head you’re quite glad that Chan remembered to close and lock the door. His fingers already feel so absolutely amazing inside you, you wonder how great his cock is gonna fill you.
You get a taste of the idea, when he once again swirls his tongue around your clit and changes the angle of his fingers a little. He’s knuckles deep inside your aching hole, now hitting that certain spot just right.
Just a little later, your mind goes completely blank, the sight of the darkness inside Chan’s eyes hidden, when the white sparkles fill your vision instead. The feeling takes over your whole body, legs shaking, when you reach that sweet relief. You cry out his name, forgetting any other syllable you’ve ever known. Almost struggling to catch your breath, Chan helps you ride out your high.
Painfully slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, watching you squirm at the loss of contact. He licks his fingers clean, making sure to let his eyes stay on your own.
You feel hypnotised.
You feel drunk.
“Hmm, still so confident that you don’t like me back, huh?” he teases you.
Like him back?
Well, you aren’t surprised he must at least find you attractive. Otherwise, Chan probably wouldn’t have eaten you out like a starving man. But you weren’t aware that there are feelings that are thrown into the mix.
“Like you back?”
“Don’t you remember what you said last night?”
Is this about the confession while Yeji was with you or did you…
Oh, the memories are slowly coming back now. You said something to him after accusing him of leaving, after pouring your heart out to him.
Did you, perhaps, tell him more?
“W-What?”
“Right before you fell asleep you confessed that you have romantic feelings for me, honey,” he says, shamelessly clicking his tongue.
“I…” 
You don’t know what to say, so the logical solution is to catch his lips in a heated kiss instead. You pull him closer, tasting yourself on his tongue but you don’t mind. He gives in for a solid minute, until he stops, knowing he has to speak further first.
“I told you before—well, you were asleep—but I return the feelings.”
You gasp. It’s now or never. There’s no reason to hold back anymore.
“Channie… I’m in love with you, have been all this time.”
There appears the brightest smile his face has ever experienced.
“I’m in love with you… have been even before that first kiss together,” he admits.
“You… what?”
Even in the weak light of the LED lanterns, you can still make out that cute pink curtain on his cheeks.
“I was scared… so I decided to hide my feelings but I’m done with hiding now.”
He kisses you then and you give in completely.
Fuck. You can’t believe this is happening.
He loves you back? He’s loved you all this time? You’re so happy that you don’t even care that it took you seven years to realise. 
Your childhood friend turned lover stops the kiss for a second, as he gets back in a seating position. Chan suddenly takes off his tank top, revealing his stunning chest to you.
As well as something else.
The necklace.
He’s wearing it.
That’s what makes you take off your shirt and your bra, too, revealing the metallic chain and pendant to him.
“You’re wearing the necklace?”
“I thought you would have noticed sooner.”
And he kisses you again, enjoying how beautiful you look underneath him, until a clicking sound startles you.
The magnets inside the pendants make the necklaces connect. You’ve expected them to not work anymore after storing the chain wherever for over five years.
“Fuck, I love you so much. I’m gonna show you, baby.”
And, oh God, that’s exactly what he does. His fingers are right between your legs again, playing sensually with your clit, as his tongue is attached to your tits, making out with one of the hardened buds.
But you need more and you need it now.
“Channie?”
He looks up for a second, “Yeah?”
“I need you… need you inside me.”
Chan wastes no time and takes off his remaining clothes, as you watch his length spring free. He’s pretty—maybe a bit above average but the girth is what basically makes you drool at the sight. The tip is already covered in precum, telling you to not wait any longer.
You ask him to come closer, but Chan still has something on his mind.
“I– I don’t have a condom with me right now… it’s in the trunk in my backpack but I can–“
“I have an IUD. If that’s okay with you,” you offer.
“Of course, dear.”
He’s positioning himself between your legs again, reaching for his length and stroking it a few times. Chan could get lost in the look you have on your face—desperately waiting for him to bury his cock inside you. Your fingers wander down to your heat, playing a little with your clit and that’s when he knows he won’t have you wait any longer.
The tip circles around your wet entrance, before he pushes only a few centimetres in first, watching you get used to the feeling. When you nod, he enters further, until he bottoms you out completely. You’re more than glad that he prepared you so well earlier.
After a quick kiss on your lips, he starts thrusting into you, observing every move and noise you make. You’re getting completely lost in the sensation, allowing him to take care of your body.
It doesn’t take long for the windows inside the car to gain a foggy layer from all the panting. Chan positions your legs over shoulders, similar to how he did earlier, as his hand wanders towards your chest.
He squeezes one of your breasts for a little, before his fingers travel further, circling around your throat, adding pressure to the sides. What a beautiful view—he’s dreamt about this so many times. Having you underneath him. Having full control over you and your body.
“Channie– fuck–“ you let out.
His cock is brushing that spot inside you again, it’s as if he’s fucked you a thousand times before.
And you feel so deliciously warm and tight around him, Chan for sure can’t get enough of your cunt.
He has to make sure you remember this. Even now that you’re finally his, he wants to hear those words coming from you.
“Who do you belong to, hm?” 
Fuck. That possessive side is something you sure can’t get enough of.
“I– fuck–“
Chan’s initial idea was to make pure love to you, although he sensed you enjoy him being less gentle, as well. So, the roughness takes over him then. Passion and desire are marking his words.
“Say it, baby. Whose good little slut are you?”
Slap. His hand collides with your ass, when you don’t answer within a second.
“Y-Yours, Channie– yours,” you then immediately let out. You could get used to this side of him.
“Good girl.”
It happens in the blink of an eye, it was inevitable. Waves of pleasure are traveling through your body, conquering your whole existence. Chan holds you close, helping you through the overstimulating sensation of your second orgasm.
After you’ve begged him to cum inside, he then paints your walls, all with the prettiest whimper spilling from his plump lips. 
The necklaces stay connected throughout the entire unholy scene, reminding you that this was indeed meant to be.
Once you’ve both come down from your high, Chan pulls out of you. He watches the mixture of his liquids spill out of your hole, before he brings two fingers right there, scooping up some of the droplets and guiding them towards your mouth.
You obediently lick them clean, before he places a gentle kiss on your lips.
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
He takes a deep breath, “I’ve always wanted to be your first, to be honest.”
“Yeah… me, too,” you confess.
“But that doesn’t matter.” Another kiss on your forehead. “‘Cause I’ll be your last.”
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💚AUTHOR'S NOTE: *taps on mic* is this thing on? yeah, hi I'm back. This fic had been chilling in my drafts half-chilling for the past few months and I am a dramatic libra so that's the first thing I post. I hope you guys have been well and enjoying your summer (or winter for my beloveds who live on the southern hemisphere and yes I know it's ironic I post a New Zealand summer story in August pls don't cancel me). I hope you enjoyed this one, I feel a bit insecure this time, if I'm completely honest with you. Please consider reblogging and/or commenting, if you want to give something back to the author! Messages via asks are fine, too. Lots of love and take care!
© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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bandgie · 24 days
Text
On Your Knees
ONE | TWO
incel!Seungmin x fem!reader
warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)
2.7k words
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The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.
You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 
"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."
Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 
Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 
"Never eaten pussy."
"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"
Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."
"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 
The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."
"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."
"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 
To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 
"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."
It's worse than you could have imagined. 
The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 
"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"
Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."
Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."
The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 
"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."
Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.
A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.
"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 
"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 
This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."
If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 
But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."
Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 
He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."
You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.
"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"
You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 
You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.
His Adam apple bobs.
"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."
For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.
"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 
His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 
You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.
Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 
"Shut up," he mumbles. 
You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.
"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 
Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.
It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 
The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 
Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"
Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.
"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.
You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."
Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.
Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.
His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"
Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 
To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-
"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."
And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?
Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 
It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.
"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"
Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 
Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 
You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."
He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 
Fuck, you taste even better inside. 
Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.
You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.
"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 
He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.
Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"
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a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!
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roseykat · 5 months
Text
TITLE: Venom Biter
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PAIRING: Minho x reader
SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.
WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.
TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.
A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.
MASTERLIST
“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”
His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 
He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.
“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.
A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 
“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 
“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”
He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 
“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”
If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.
Though naturally, you became very close with them. 
“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”
Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”
Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 
“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.
“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 
Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 
There had to be another reason, surely. 
But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.
Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 
In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 
He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.
But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 
Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 
Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 
You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.
It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 
Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 
All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.
"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.
"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.
You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 
"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.
Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"
“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  
“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 
“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 
“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."
Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.
“So why is half my stuff missing?” 
Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 
“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 
“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 
“No you fucking didn’t.” 
“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 
“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”
The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”
You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”
Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”
“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 
Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.
Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 
You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 
He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 
“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 
Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 
His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 
“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 
Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 
The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 
He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 
“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.
His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”
Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 
“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 
Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.
“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 
You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 
“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 
You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 
Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;
“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”
Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 
“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”
A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 
You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 
His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 
“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 
“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 
Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 
“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 
The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.
“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 
Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  
Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 
“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.
Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 
Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 
His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”
At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 
“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 
The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.
He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.
The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.
“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 
You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 
Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 
"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.
“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."
“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."
"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."
Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."
“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."
He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”
Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.
It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 
"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.
But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”
There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.
-
A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...
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i'd sigh in bliss, even while drowning, if only it was your hand holding me under; your kiss is the most violent death i've ever known.
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qh43 x reader: let's take this bitter tension on the water, shall we?
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (have you guys seen his hair, recently?), choking (it's really been too long. too many nice guys), talking (he brings out the best in me), tears (or the worst idk), lots and lots and lots of miscommunication and tension and being kinda mean, obviously i'm forgetting things but all my usual stuff.  please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: thank you for waiting, my favorites. i give you qh43 x doll (on deck). this idea has taken me a long time to flesh out, with lots of work and outlining and such, so i really hope you enjoy. i told myself it was going to be short and it ended up being 16.5k, because i have no self control. i guess i was just in the mood to write angst-filled argument after angst-filled argument, given all the sweet boy content i've been putting out recently (don't worry, that will be back soon enough). and qh43 is my go-to for the sad stuff, for the fights and kisses in the rain (literally, this time). can you tell i was listening to taylor's is it really over? way too much and thought... what if it wasn't? over, that is? obviously, none of this makes any logistical sense, you guys know this. thank you for reading anyways. let's see, what else? loving the nico slut headcanon i'm committing to. also love a good mt19 gap-tooth takeover (is he not the perfect cruise ship fling?). and luke is here, too, for all the people telling me to write for him. i'm sorry, i know the miscommunication trope is frustrating and the one-bed trope is cliche. please, for the love of god, take this as a sign to be clear with people about how you feel. life is too short. i have like one billion baby stories started right now, so we will see for which inspiration proves most fruitful. will it be golf pro cc22 x bevcart girl? geology ta js1 x classics ta? the tj17 one i've been trying to finish forever? none of the above? we'll see. pretty, pretty please, tell me what you think. go canucks (dare i say cup-bound), tell your snakes i love them. until next time. love, always).
as much as you wanted to be completely and purely excited for this little excursion, as much as you wanted this to be a truly undiluted celebration of your best friend's wedding next weekend, something was standing in your way.
"c'mon," the bride-to-be, savannah, said, standing on the pier next to you as you gazed out at the obscenely massive cruise ship, its numerous windows like the eyes of a spider, much too many and much too close together, "you've worked so hard, babe." she gave you a tight side-hug, which you returned. "you've made this whole process so easy, hm? let loose for a weekend, and then, i promise, you can go right back to being the militant maid of honor you are."
you let out a short laugh, let your shoulders settle back into place. "thanks for this weekend, sav," you said. "it's gonna be great." she was right, of course, in some ways, and wrong in others.
you had worked hard, very, very hard, because you cared about savannah, loved her like a sister, and you wanted her wedding to be one of dreams. you liked jack, her fiance, a lot, too, and you liked them together, saw how they brought out the best in each other.
it had been months of making sure everything during the planning process went over smoothly, of being there for savannah when the world felt like it was ending, when the pressure of a wedding felt like it was insurmountable.
when bridesmaids had a little too much to say about their dresses, or when family members had a little too much to say about their hotel arrangements, or when savannah herself had a little too much to say about how it just had to be perfect, you were there, mitigating the worries and stressors and potential problems.
it had been a rewarding but draining couple of months.
savannah had seen that, had appreciated you even more because of it, so her and jack had planned this mini-vacation as a thank you for both of their wedding parties. the big day was next week, so this was supposed to be a final relaxing deep breath before the inevitable whirlwind of white lace and dress shoes and pink flowers.
and it would be relaxing, you were sure of it, you wouldn't let it not be, if only because your best friend wanted it to be so adamantly. it would be a perfect weekend vacation, the perfect cruise getaway, the perfect source of pre-wedding bliss.
it would be, it would be all of these things, as long as you stayed as far away from quinn hughes as was humanly possible.
the brother of the groom, the best man, your counterpart in the wedding, whom you had been fairly successful in avoiding whenever possible, all things considered. you'd been in the same friend group for years, after all, since the end of college. years of averted glances, charged comments that you pretended to ignore, of memories that left your cheeks hot and anger hotter.
you hadn't had a major blowout with him yet, and you were confident enough in your self-control to believe you wouldn't start now. you'd never been confined on a boat with him before, though, hadn't been stuck in a room with him without an escape plan, so that would present a new challenge.
what was every day in the periphery of quinn, though, if not a new challenge? a challenge more devastatingly taxing with each passing moment?
as you and your best friend boarded the ship together, you hoped that you could postpone seeing him for as long as possible. maybe if you stayed in your room the whole weekend, you wouldn't have to see him at all. wouldn't that be fun?
savannah dropped her stuff and told you she was going to find jack, leaving you to unpack your things and enjoy some moments of silence before what would surely be a tornado of a weekend.
unfortunately, as you folded your clothes and organized them in drawers, your mind wandered, with nothing to focus on but your anxieties. your anxiety, personified, in a broad, shaggy-haired, soft-featured best man.
you sighed, as you often did when you thought of quinn, because no, it hadn't always been this way. there had been a single, lovely, dreamy night during which the two of you hadn't hated each other. quite the opposite, actually.
it felt sort of unfair that, even now, years later, he could still evoke such a visceral feeling in you, a kind of hatred you felt in your stomach, a kind of shame that rattled through your skull, a regret that set your chest ablaze. and as much as it pained you to think it, it felt sort of unfair that savannah was getting married to jack, because you had known quinn first. it had been you and quinn, first.
it had been you and quinn, both of you at the just-off-campus bar alone, waiting for your respective friends to show up. you had spotted him across the room, his pretty face made so angelic by the hazy neon light. he had spotted you too, had been so unapologetic about letting his gaze settle in the pockets of your exposed collarbones, then flickering up to meet your careful eyes slowly, heatedly.
it had been you and quinn, in a back booth, once he'd bought you a beer and motioned for you to join him, a precise but easy tilt of his head in invitation. on that waxy bench seat, as time passed, you grew much closer together than you could have made a real excuse for, until the outside of your thigh was pressed up against his, until he angled his shoulder back so you could lean your side on his chest, until there was really no question as to where the night was going to go. where it was going to end.
until he rewrote the script you'd assumed into place, too, because when you talked with him for that hour or so, drinks practically forgotten on the table, friends absolutely forgotten, he wasn't like the one-night-onlys you'd had in the past.
he was pretty, sure, almost embarrassingly so, but he spoke to you so gently, with such care, it stunned you.
when he asked you about your day, you were shocked to find completely genuineness in his gaze.
when you asked about his friends, when they were showing up, you couldn't help but feel a little endeared by his short laugh. "athletes," he told you, then, "most unreliable people on the planet, doll, swear it."
it had been you and quinn, basically melting into each other, in that booth, and it had been you and quinn, at his place, after. when you'd discovered that he tasted like something citrusy, maybe grapefruit, from whatever he'd been drinking, when you'd felt his rough hands on your face, your hips, when his voice had grown low and husky and brutal, barely pausing for even a moment when he pushed into you for the first time, so overwhelmingly deep and hard.
he'd been so gentle, yet undeniable, so tender, but he'd said things that now made you blush.
he'd been the best fuck of your life, somehow also the kind of person you'd truly, genuinely, been able to see yourself developing a relationship with. you'd thought he was a once in a lifetime kind of person.
you'd left his place early that morning to get to class, kissed his shoulder softly in goodbye while he slept soundly.
little did you know that, that next night, savannah would meet jack, who was out with quinn. as such, savannah would introduce you to jack.
"this is my brother, quinn," jack would say to you, eventually, and your eyes would soften at the sight of him as you turned.
you would open your mouth to say something along the lines of oh, we've already met, but then quinn would extend a hand to you.
"nice to meet you," he'd say, stony, cold, and you'd narrow your eyes, search his gaze for anything humorous, come up empty. surely he remembered you, right? it was almost worse to imagine that he did remember, that he just didn't want his brother to know about you. it was almost worse to imagine that he thought you were something to be hidden.
so you'd swallow a breath that felt like a forbidden pill, stare at his outstretched hand with something like disgust.
"yeah, you too," you'd bite out, your hands remaining at your sides, hoping his empty hand felt awkward enough to hurt. "really nice."
so, as much as it had been you and quinn, starry-eyed in a back booth, as much as it had been you and quinn, tangled up in each other as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep, as much as it had been you and quinn, first -
it had also been you, embarrassed and ashamed, and quinn, expressionless and indifferent.
so, what did that night really matter, however life-altering you had thought it to be? he obviously didn't feel the same way. you obviously meant nothing to him.
you had thought that to be a very disappointing end to a chapter. you were ready to move on, but, of course, savannah and jack only grew closer. of course, your friend groups merged. of course, it seemed like you couldn't go more than a few days without an especially painful reminder of exactly how much you weren't wanted, exactly how mistaken you had been.
it had been several years now, and you'd gotten a little better at hiding your feelings, sure, but you wouldn't describe your relationship with quinn as civil. certainly not amicable.
you were both known to have an especially short temper when it came to the other, to become inexplicable hot-headed in their presence. still, no one, not even savannah, you assumed not even jack, knew exactly why. they just assumed you didn't get along. that you were just completely incompatible as people, probably.
now, you took a deep breath, putting the last of your clothes away, zipping up your suitcase and stowing it under your bed. you wouldn't let him ruin this trip for you, you decided in a moment. you would be kind, and lovely, and you'd enjoy the time with your best friends. everything was going to be fine. everything was going to be perfect.
this was the mindset you were carrying with you when you finally made to join everyone else on the deck for a welcome happy hour.
you quickly spotted your group, immediately locking eyes with your other best friend, lexi, who must have just arrived.
she squealed and pulled you in for a hug. "it's been too long," she whined, and you laughed.
"i missed you," you said, and you meant it. for the longest time, it had been you, savannah, and lexi, a trio for the majority of your time at university. guys came and went (for the most part), your circle expanded into friends from classes and clubs and sororities and such, but the three of you were inseparable.
it still felt weird that you didn't get to see them every day, with all of you at different places, some working, some in school. it felt weird that the real world still spun even if you three weren't cackling on the way into a lecture, whispering about lacrosse boy when he walked into a party, whining about midterms in the dining hall. it felt weird to grow up.
"i want to hear about school," you said as you pulled away from her embrace. "tell me everything."
"what, no hug for me, eh?"
you rolled your eyes, immediately recognizing that overconfident voice as jack's best friend.
"hello, nico," you said, sugary-sweet, mustering up a smile. "how's daddy's money treating you?" you didn't like nico, not really, found that he hadn't changed at all since school.
nico wasn't like quinn, though, he never took what you said in a heavy way. he just laughed, and his eyes shone with it. "business is thriving, thanks for asking," he said.
"so humble," came quinn's grumbly voice, somewhere on the line between light-hearted fun and genuine disapproval. you wondered briefly if nico had any more luck reading quinn than you did.
"oh, that's what they say," nico responded, running a hand through his longer dark hair. "the humblest around."
you caught up with lexi about medical school, learned it was somehow even more draining than she expected.
"i wouldn't be able to tell for a second," you assured her, gesturing to your face. "you look insanely well-rested. glowing, practically."
lexi waved you off, but she looked pleased. "don't lie," she chastised, "i wake up everyday and look like i got run over by a truck."
she told you about her classes, and her classmates, and her professors, and you listened intently, always interested to hear about situations you had no experience in.
"sounds hectic," you said, finally, blowing out a breath.
"eh, you know how it is," she responded with a shrug. just then, luke, jack's younger brother, arrived, looking especially disheveled, but you knew him well enough by now to understand that was just how he looked.
he was greeted with hugs and handshakes by everyone.
"you're so big, now," you said, almost teasingly, as you pulled him in for a hug.
he swatted at you, good-naturedly. "lay off, would you?" he said, but when he smiled it was genuine. "not a baby."
you knocked your hip against his, anyways. "happy you're here," you told him.
out of all of jack's groomsmen, you supposed luke was the clear frontrunner for your favorite. nico, the narcissistic playboy, was out of the running, and so was quinn, for obvious reasons.
even without those two, though, you'd developed a soft spot for the youngest of the hugheses. he was a couple of years your junior, but surprisingly mature and well-spoken. he was into football, like you were, too, and had invited you to join his fantasy league before he even knew you that well. now, years later, he came to you for girl advice and you thought of him as the younger brother you never had.
"me, too," luke responded, his eyes alight. when you looked away from him, however, you felt another gaze on your side like a blistering burn, were barely surprised to find quinn's rocky eyes on your side, somewhere between your hip and waist.
his attention sparked something dangerously flammable inside of you, an anger that felt like being coated in lighter fluid.
if quinn had been beautiful the day you'd met him, he was devastating, now, having aged in a subtle way that only enhanced his features, made his jaw sharper, cheekbones more prominent. his hair was a soft shag of brown, curling onto his forehead, at the nape of his neck, the tops of his ears. he'd filled out a bit, too, wider in the chest, softer in the middle. if you had to describe to someone your type, you figured you'd get maybe ten seconds in before realizing you were just describing quinn.
now, his eyes met yours in a clash of flame and ancient rock, immovable and disastrous.
coward, you seemed to say without words, mean, rude, coward.
and, as always, he seemed to say absolutely nothing.
you were being kind, though, you were being lovely, so you just rolled your eyes and made to join savannah and lexi as they chatted by the bar.
the sun set over the distant sky line, making the sea ripple purple and orange as music played from the deck, as more and more people seemed to gather, as drinks flowed easier and voices grew louder.
you caught up with luke about his last year of school, listened to nico talk about his last girlfriend (who he insisted was really, truly crazy, as he had claimed about the last girl, and the one before that), asked jack about how work was going and savannah how her cats were doing. you were including everyone, you were being a wonderful maid of honor, you were being kind and lovely, all while quinn remained oddly quiet, talking only when directly addressed, every now and then looking at you with an intensity that made you dizzy.
what are you doing? you wanted to scream at him, you're not allowed to look at me!
he didn't seem to particularly care about your unspoken wishes, anyways, though you supposed he never had. he just took small sips from his fruity cocktail, and you pretended not to notice how it made his pouty lips more pink, like he was wearing a shimmery gloss. you hated yourself for the way your stomach flipped at the sight.
"so, how's your week been, q?" luke asked him, eventually, taunting him with a smile. "awfully quiet over there. what're you hiding?"
and you shouldn't have done it, it was not very lovely and kind of you, but you gave a light scoff at this. because you knew just how good quinn was a hiding things. people, even.
of course, he noticed. he seemed to notice just about everything, when it came to you, ever the perceptive observer. it was something you'd adored about him, for a night.
"what?" quinn bit out, and he wasn't looking at luke, instead looking directly at you. "got something to say, doll?"
you felt your eye twitch, only just barely, because out of all of his mannerisms and actions that drove you absolutely crazy, this one might be your least favorite. how, after all this time, he still rarely called you anything but doll.
how, now, it was said with such condescending distaste, when it had once been 'm dyin' to kiss you, doll, murmured in a bedroom doorframe. when it had once been give me one more, doll, hm? be good for me, hot against your temple.
"nothing, quinn," you said, with a smile that felt more similar to baring teeth, his name some malicious hex. "don't worry about it."
there was a brief pause charged with meaning, his slate-like eyes boring into yours.
you were the first to look away, to look down at your hand before he finally answered luke's question, went into some noncommittal explanation about work.
eventually, somehow, the conversation veered towards wedding dates.
"wait," savannah said, pausing as if having trouble understanding. "you're telling me that out of all of you, both wedding parties, the only one with a plus-one is luke? and it's not even a date?"
"mackie still counts," luke said, shrugging. "no one said we weren't allowed to bring friends."
"regardless," savannah said, exasperated. "how did this happen?"
nico grinned. "not all of us can be so easily tied down, sav," he said with a wink, to which you and lexi groaned.
"oh, what?" nico retorted, looking at the two of you, "if it really matters, i'll bring a date. hell, i'll bring four dates."
you shook your head vigorously. "do not bring four dates. please do not bring four dates."
"do not make our wedding an episode of the bachelor, nico," savannah warned. "but you guys should bring someone!" her eyes grew wide with excitement. "you could even find someone on the boat!"
lexi whistled.
"do we really want a bunch of strangers at our wedding?" jack mused, joking.
"oh, hush," savannah said, laying a hand on his forearm.
he smiled. "you're right," he conceded, "not like this lot could find dates anyways."
the only people who seemed especially opposed to jack's judgement were nico and lexi.
you just shrugged. you didn't really want to bring a date to the wedding, because you didn't have a serious boyfriend, right now, and you didn't want to invite someone you weren't serious about. you could find a date, sure, it wouldn't be too hard, but that would just be another person to entertain for a night during which you were already going to be pulled in a million different directions.
"okay, so lex and nico are going to find dates," savannah said, then turned to you, "what about you?"
"i'm good, sav," you said, plainly, cordially, with a smile that she returned. you knew that she just wanted you to be happy, and that it probably hurt her to imagine you lonely.
"or you, quinn?" savannah continued.
you fixed your eyes on him, too, as did the rest of the table. as much as you maybe shouldn't have been, you were straining to hear his answer.
"yeah, didn't you say you were thinking of bringing someone? what was her name, again?" jack asked, snapping his fingers as if trying to summon his memory.
terrible envy bubbled through your veins, thick and green, at the mention of quinn wanting someone who wasn't you. at the reminder that he was fully capable of wanting someone, he just hadn't wanted you.
quinn's eyes flashed with something dangerous. "i never told you i was thinking of bringing someone," he told his brother, sounding almost annoyed, his tone sharp.
jack's half-smile told you he knew something you didn't. "my bad," he said, "must've forgotten."
quinn's full mouth twitched to the side, almost undetectable, but of course you noticed. he looked almost angry that jack had suggested that he bring a date. there was the faintest pink across his nose, too, as if he was almost embarrassed.
something heavy settled in your chest, made your throat tight, because you knew what it was like to be embarrassed in a group. to want something so adamantly and have it go the other way in front of your eyes.
as if pulled by some magnetic force, some power fueled by history and shed tears, quinn's eyes briefly met yours, like you were the calm in some hurricane, like you tethered him to the world. for a second, you remembered just what it felt like to be his. just how consuming it was.
but you weren't his, you reminded yourself. so, of course, the anger followed, along with a bloodthirsty self-loathing at your momentary protection of him, your fleeting feelings of sympathy.
you weren't his, and yet he was looking at you now like he was begging you to do something.
"you know what, sav?" you said, although you were looking right at quinn, "changed my mind. think i'll bring a date, actually."
it was quinn's turn to scoff, which had rage rolling in your head like high tide. "yeah, right," he said. "you haven't been with someone in years, doll."
you furrowed your brow, because that just wasn't true, flat out. did quinn actually think you hadn't been with guys since you'd had him?
lexi was the one to laugh. "what're you on about, quinn?" she said. "what planet have you been living on?"
"you think i call you up as soon as i scratch another notch in my bedpost?" you asked, incredulous. "course i've been with guys."
a million emotions rumbled through his eyes like a slow-building earthquake, which made realization spark in your head.
"unless," you started, "unless you haven't been with-"
"i'll bet that you don't end the weekend with a date, then," quinn said, cutting you off as you'd gotten dangerously close to saying something incriminating, something he didn't want others to know.
it took no convincing from you to agree to his bet, even if nico and luke were nudging you on. "you're on," you said, your voice lower than you anticipated.
he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, cocked his head in a way that made your nerves spring to life. "and what do i get when i win?"
he said the words like he knew exactly how you'd take them. in a way that made everything else fade away, for a moment, made you forget your audience of friends, made the music lull to a halt in your ears, made the massive deck of this boat feel altogether too small.
"what do you want?" you asked, almost blushed at how rough your voice sounded, promptly cleared your throat again.
his heavy gaze dropped to your mouth, making warning sirens blare in your head. making you so, so angry.
"decide the terms later," jack said, obviously done with this topic, which really only concerned you and quinn, "deal or no deal?"
quinn extended a hand to you in answer, which you stared at for a second, suddenly delirious with deja vu. remembering when he had last went looking for a handshake.
this time, though, you took it, squeezed it so tight you hoped it hurt, although he didn't even wince, held eye contact with you the entire time.
"eager to lose, eh, doll?" he asked, his eyes shining.
"you know me," you said, then, "just so eager." knowing exactly how he would take it. in a way that had his eyes glazing over, just a bit, perhaps had phantom breaths of please, quinn, give me all of it echoing in his mind.
and so your weekend getaway began with a wager.
still, you didn't want your heightening anger towards quinn to take over your vacation, so, the following day, you went about your way as you had been planning on.
you ate breakfast with lexi, explored the boat with sav and luke, finally settled down to read by the pool in the late afternoon.
the sun was bright and big in the sky, so you untied the straps of your swimsuit, so as to avoid tan lines. time passed as you flipped pages, engrossed in your book, until you felt the heat on your body like a scratchy sweater.
at some point, you felt a figure next to you, a big body with a face you couldn't see until you brought a hand up to shield your eyes.
the man blocking the sun from you was a little jarring in his beauty, you realized. handsome in a very different way than what you were usually attracted to. he had curly, curly hair, almost red in the light, a symmetrical face, a prominent gap in his two front teeth that you had the sneaking suspicion he used to his advantage.
he had you smiling up at him, nonetheless. "can i help you, handsome?" you asked.
his mouth quirked at your words as his features settled into a theatrical expression. "you're sweet, princess, but i was actually hoping to help you."
you hummed, bent one knee up until the sole of your foot rested flat on your lounge chair. "were you, now?" maybe this whole finding a wedding date business was going to be even easier than you initially thought.
the handsome stranger squatted down until his hips rested back on his heels, until he was eye level with you. like he didn't want to look down at you. like you were even lovelier head on. he raised a wide hand to one side of his mouth, as if telling you some great secret at a cafeteria lunch table. "just wanted to warn you that your straps are untied," he whispered, gesturing with his other hand to his own shoulders. his smirk told you that he knew it was intentional.
you made no move to retie them, let out a small laugh. "my knight in shining armor, hm?"
his shoulders rose and fell in a telling chuckle. "either that or i just wanted an excuse to come over here," he said. "'m matthew."
"'m flattered, matthew," you said, then gave him your own name. "you don't seem like a guy who needs an excuse, though."
his smirk grew wide. "what do i seem like, then, princess?"
you tilted your head to the side, thought for a moment. "don't know," you admitted, "got the smile of a charmer, though, give you that."
matthew appeared about to respond, but was cut off by the approach of a figure to the other side of your chair, standing at full height, looking down at you and your new acquaintance.
a figure you'd know in the dark, a presence you'd sense while unconscious. quinn drew both of your attention, but said nothing. you pursed your lips.
"what's up, man?" said matthew, maybe a little unsure, in a tone that sort of felt like he was making fun of quinn. "all good?" he didn't push back up to his full height, which you found hilarious and endearing. how he didn't seem even the tiniest bit threatened by quinn, when it was so painfully obvious that he was trying so hard to appear threatening.
you peered up at him, found his blatant discomfort and indecision especially unsettling. "what do you want, quinn?" you asked, annoyance creeping into your voice like moss on a damp rock.
"you know this guy?" matthew said, his grin that of a class clown.
"do you know this guy, doll?" quinn retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, and you rolled your eyes, set your book down beside you.
"quinn, this is matthew," you said, gesturing between the two of them. "matthew, quinn."
quinn didn't move, but matthew's smile grew taunting as he extended his hand out for a handshake.
a handshake that quinn just stared at, briefly, did not make a move to reciprocate, his gaze so solid, relentlessly cold. you could have slapped him, if you didn't have an audience.
matthew just laughed, retracted his hand, finally stood up. "well, i guess i'll be seeing you around, princess," he said, looking right at you.
"until then, matthew," you responded, an easy smile on your face.
he gave you one last charismatic smile before looking to quinn again. "you've been a treat, quinn," he said, little more than a chuckle, raising a hand in goodbye before turning and walking away.
when he was out of ear shot, you looked up at quinn, ignoring the way the sun lit up the high points of his face. "so," you began, dangling one leg off of your chair, pulling the other up to your chest. "when did you officially lose your goddamn mind?"
he scrunched his mouth to the side as if tasting something sour. "haven't gone crazy," he said, basically a grumble, "thought he was bothering you."
you laughed, genuinely, from your stomach.
"what?" he said, and it was sharp, heavy.
"babe, is this guy bothering you?" you said, imitating a comically deep masculine voice before returning to your usual tone. you retied the straps of your swimsuit, not looking at him. "get real. since when do you give a fuck about me?"
he didn't answer, just shifted on his feet slightly, which made the muscles of his thighs tense. you could feel his anger building, looming like some poisonous cloud around the two of you. he was flushed, and you had a feeling it was some lethal combination of embarrassment and fury. it made his eyes almost glow, made his shoulders clench with strain.
"jesus, don't hurt yourself," you said, eyeing the tension that radiated from his body. "not a good look on you."
this made him intimidating, somehow, made the difference in height between the two of you feel substantial, significant. "really, doll?" he said, with a bite that you could taste. history made its stinging presence known between the two of you, made the air sizzle. "don't like me like this?"
you wanted to punch him the stomach, made him hunch over, bring him to your level so he didn't feel so high and mighty. who was he, now, to hint at your history? when he had denied it so grossly before?
you were not the one in the wrong here, you remembered, he was the one who had approached you.
"no," you said, through clenched teeth, "no, quinn, i don't like you jealous."
this seemed to set his anger loose, as you had expected it to, his fists now tight at his sides. "i am not jealous," he said, slowly, almost scarily. "maybe if you weren't showing yourself off like a-"
you stood up, then, your pulse in your ears, your heart in your throat. you laid a warning hand on his chest, the closest you'd been in a long time. "oh, you aren't really about to call me a slut, are you, quinn?" you warned, like a storm siren.
his gaze shot down to your hand before returning to your unwavering eyes again.
"are you?" you pressed, with the strength of practiced patience. he still said nothing, which made you want to pound your fists on his chest, get him to say something, anything. how tired and frustrated you were of his silence. "where do you get off playing tough-guy savior, anyways?" you continued. "you've got no say in who i talk to, just because you've been celibate, apparently, which is absolutely insane-"
"'m not playing anything," was his short response, which had you fuming.
"you're no tough guy, quinn," you said, "you're a coward."
your eyes widened when his smoldered, as he brought a hand up to your face, swiped his warm thumb across your jawline. you would have smacked his hand away, you swore it, but you were lost for a moment, drowning in the touch you'd craved for longer than you cared to admit. "and you're desperate, doll," he breathed, like some terrible caress, "where does that leave us?"
his words barreled through you like a battering ram, cruel and sadistic. because what were you most ashamed of, if not seeming desperate to his indifferent? what were you questioning most, if not where that left you?
it had been you and quinn, first. could you truly say it had ever been over?
he dropped his hand from your face, leaving you cold, lacking, all over again. leaving your breath coming out a little bit short, your lips slightly parted. because as much as his words cut through you like a dagger to the chest, he said them with such softness, such warmth.
making it so painfully clear in your mind just how much you still wanted him, even if he drove you mad. even if he was exactly the reason behind so many of your fears.
"i hate you," you said, but of course you didn't mean it.
"i hate you," he said, but of course he was lying.
your body and mind were still buzzing, practically alight, that night, when sav and jack decided your whole group should go out, try the ship's nightclub on for a few hours.
and you probably would have politely declined, in any other scenario. you didn't go out that much now, not like you did in school, at least. in recent history, you'd found yourself much more attracted to a night in on the couch than a bass-boosted speaker in your ear. however, you supposed, you wouldn't be able to really relax tonight, anyways, not when your blood felt hot in your body, when your fingertips felt as if they were laced with electrical currents.
you felt almost ill with energy, crazed with some awful mixture of shame and desire and annoyance and disgust.
and you sort of hated yourself for how practically demented quinn's touch made you feel, how deranged his undivided attention made you.
it was so, so unfair, and you wished it wouldn't be true. but it was, so you figured you might as well use this energy while you had it, might as well lean heavily into this version of yourself. this version of yourself, whose emotions were blown up, heightened to a magnificent level.
this you, who felt embarrassment like rosy handcuffs around her wrists, who felt want like a leaden crown, satisfaction like a bubbly drink, displeasure like a hand around your neck. who felt danger and challenge like some intoxicating drug.
it was this you who pulled on a tight, short dress, who spent a few more minutes than usual lining and glossing your lips. maybe it wasn't the most level-headed you'd ever been, sure, but you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so utterly alive.
"holy shit," lexi said when she opened her door, found you waiting to walk down with her, "you look insane."
you smiled. "good insane or insane insane?"
lexi grabbed her small bag and shut the door behind her. "oh, please," she said, waving you off. "almost forgot that you're workin' with all that," she added, which made you laugh.
once the two of you made your way inside, you looked around for your friends, quickly spotted luke sitting at a table with sav and jack.
sav whistled at the two of you as you approached. "holy smokes," she said.
"oh, stop it," lexi teased, making to sit down next to her.
you just leaned on the side of luke's stool, knocked your shoulder into his. "past your bedtime, eh?" you joked.
he rolled his eyes, smiled. "what brings you out of your cave?" he mused. he knew how much it took for you to venture from your room.
you just shrugged. "what if i just wanted to see you?"
he gave a disbelieving shake of his head before tilting it up to look at you head on. "heard you and q had quite the blowout at the pool."
you narrowed your eyes. "wouldn't call it a blowout," you said, and you meant it, because you could have done so much worse. "who told you that, anyways?"
he scoffed. "who do you think?"
you scrunched up your face. you knew how close quinn and luke were, but, somehow, it still surprised you that he had told anyone about what had happened at the pool. it felt weird that, after refusing to acknowledge what had happened between you, he'd tell luke anything about you.
it made you wonder just how much he had disclosed, if luke knew much more than he was letting on.
"what did he tell you?" you asked, curiosity overtaking any of your discipline.
the youngest hughes just gave you a big grin, though, like he'd caught you in something. "i forget," he said, and you hit him lightly on the arm.
you turned your attention back to the table. "where's nico?" you asked, as he was the only one from the group you hadn't really seen that day. you didn't ask where quinn was, even though you really, really wanted to know. was he even here? did he stay in his room, like you had wanted to?
jack gestured vaguely. "haven't seen him since we got here."
"'s probably pretty busy," sav added, "i think the last time i saw him he was up to three wedding dates."
lexi groaned while you hid your face in luke's shoulder for a second.
you sighed, then pushed yourself out of your lean.
"where're you going?" luke asked you.
"to save the feminine population of this cruise ship from hurricane nico," you answered, before patting the top of his head and making for the bar.
the music was louder, away from the tables and closer to the dance floor, crowded with people in bold colors and daring cuts.
you leaned forward on the counter, raised a hand to catch the bartender's attention. the man with the platinum buzzcut nodded to you to signal that he'd be right there.
"how'd you escape your keeper?" a goofy voice said from beside you, and you recognized the confident tone before you even turned.
"good to see you again, matthew," you said, peering up at him with an easy smile. "and i have my ways."
"i don't doubt that, princess, i don't doubt that," he conceded, his grin revealing that gap between his front teeth.
"thanks for waiting," the bartender said, now in front of you two, adjusting his black bowtie. "to drink?"
"two of whatever she's having," matthew said.
"vodka soda, please," you clarified, opening your mouth to protest when matthew wouldn't let you pay.
"let me get this one, hm?" he asked, and he was so steady you knew he wouldn't budge.
you blew out a breath like you were annoyed, but the thought was sweet. "fine," you said, "just this once. thank you."
"anytime," was his immediately reply as the bartender dropped the two glasses in front of each of you.
"thank you," you said to the blonde, eyes searching for his name tag, "elias."
he gave a curt nod in response before being summoned by another patron.
you turned, now leaned your back against the bar counter, crossed an ankle over the other as you again looked at matthew.
"did i mention how beautiful you look?" he said, a lazy smirk on his face, telling you he'd used this line before. it brought a delighted flush to your cheeks, nonetheless.
"that one's a heater," you said, "bet it works on all the girls." you took a sip from your cold glass, found it strong and sharp.
"not all of 'em, apparently," he said, and you let out a laugh.
you chatted pleasantly with matthew for a while, your mission to find nico long forgotten.
fortunately, at some point, you were surprised to see nico himself approach the two of you where you stood, his gait as overconfident as his expression.
"who's this guy?" matthew whispered, his breath hot by your ear as he leaned down. you shivered, could feel his sly smile.
"a clown," you whispered back.
matthew hummed. "you seem to know a lot of those, eh, princess?"
and it shocked you, sort of, how part of you jumped to defend quinn. how part of you wanted to explain to matthew, however stupidly, that quinn wasn't a clown, he wasn't dumb, he wasn't like nico.
what did it matter if this almost stranger thought quinn was an idiot? hadn't he made a fool of himself just today?
"hey, nico," you said, when he was close enough. "meant to look for you." your side glance had you locking eyes with matthew again, warm and inviting. "got distracted."
"no worries at all, no worries at all," nico responded, "i've just been sent over by a certain quinn hughes to see what was going on here, but, as he should have known, i am no errand boy." he gave matthew a knowing look. "and you seem like a great guy." nico's mouth gave an impressed sort of scrunch. "good face, too."
"i like this guy much more," matthew said, elbowing you gently, although you were having a bit of a hard time focusing.
because you'd warned quinn about leaving you be, warned him that he had absolutely and completely forfeited any opinion to be had about your life. and yet, just hours later, apparently, he hadn't learned his lesson.
"where is he?" you bit out, and you had a feeling your smile looked menacing. at least menacing enough to make nico do a double take. "eh, over there," he said, motioning over to the dance floor.
sure enough, your eyes caught on quinn's broad figure, practically indistinguishable from the one close to him, the girl he was dancing with. you rolled your eyes, turned to matthew with sympathy.
he seemed to be anticipating your words, if his slightly disappointed sigh was anything to go by. "well, the keeper calls," he joked, and his easy-going smile made you feel almost sick.
because here was this lovely person, right in front of you, so obvious about his attraction to you. and yet, you were walking away from him. the very thought made anger thrum within you.
"i'm sorry," you said, and it was genuine.
matthew gave a one-shouldered shrug. "don't be," he said, "i'm lucky i even got to see you in that dress." he winked at you before turning to walk away.
you were silent for a moment, blinking.
nico, who'd you'd forgotten had even been there, blew out a breath. "hell," he said, shaking his head, "that guy was a smoke."
"how many dates are you at?" you said, your eyeline still firmly on quinn, on the beautiful blonde girl he was dancing with. you stirred your halfway empty drink.
nico shrugged. "lost track," he said, "why? wanna borrow one?"
"maybe later," you said, then pushed yourself from the counter and began to make your way across the room.
the walk felt much longer than it was, as if a chasm had opened up between you and quinn, jagged rocks lining the walls, some treacherous river running through your legs, drenching your heels.
the walk felt longer than it was, but then you were in front of quinn, and the beautiful girl.
you tapped her on the shoulder, first. "could you move to the side for a second, babe?" you asked, completely apologetic. "don't wanna ruin your dress."
her features scrunched in confusion, but she stepped to the side, as you'd asked. you shot her a grateful look before turning to face quinn, meeting his eye.
you were almost shocked to find warmth, there, so unlike the stony coldness you'd expected from him.
still, you just gave him a facetious smile, short, snarky, before tossing the remnants of your drink at him.
it hit him square in the face, better aimed than you could have hoped. liquid dripped from the strong slope of his nose, down his jaw, soaking his white button down near the collar.
the blonde gasped, brought a hand to her mouth in shock.
you turned briefly to her. "'m sorry for the interruption," you said, genuinely. "you look gorgeous."
as quinn ran a slow hand down his face, wiping alcohol from his forehead, cheeks, you hummed and began to walk away, your stride satisfied as you made for the exit.
you dropped your glass on a table, walked through the doorway, onto the deck of the ship, the darkness of the night, sudden quiet a welcomed change of pace.
you had only just taken a breath when you felt a grip on your wrist, firm but not painful.
"just fuck off, won't you, quinn?" you said, just about done for the night. he just pulled you aside, boxed you against the railing on the deck, the noise of the sea in harmony with the faded beat of the club's mix.
you were so, so, done. you hadn't really wanted to come out, anyways, and then, when you were finally having a good time, he had to go and ruin it, send nico over to check in on you, like you needed some kind of babysitter.
he scoffed, a sound that felt beautiful in your ears, somehow. "think you can just walk away, after a stunt like that?" he said the words like they meant something deeper than just their surface meaning, but you couldn't, for the life of you, figure it out.
you blew out a breath, met his gaze directly.
you probably should have known by now that if there was one word to describe quinn, it was unfair.
unfair, how, drenched in a drink you tossed at him, he still looked this pretty. his hair damp, evident that he had run his hands through it. his features almost enhanced by the liquid that shone on them, his shirt practically sheer, now, drawing attention to his broad chest, corded shoulders. unfair.
maybe you had been wrong. maybe you couldn't handle this weekend. you'd been able to escape him before, for years, always had an easy out during gatherings with friends, always had something else to focus on.
he was everywhere here. he was unavoidable. he was inside your head, whispering in your ear. he was a phantom grapefruit taste on your tongue.
here, you were basically back in his bed, two years ago, back in that bar booth. here, you were surrounded by him.
"you sent nico to spy on me," you said, each word pronounced perfectly clear. you clenched your fists tight as if to restrain them. "how many times do i need to tell you, quinn? who i fuck is none of your business!"
he let out a noise that was half-growl. "you wanted him?" he asked, low and loaded, so painfully so it made your stomach drop.
"what does it matter?" you said. "i can't even speak to someone on this boat, apparently, without you breathing down my neck!"
"it matters," was his reply, spoken so softly, with a cutting bite. "it matters, doll."
you narrowed your eyes, searched his face for some clue. droplets of liquid still clung to his lashes, making his gaze impossibly beautiful.
"it shouldn't," you said, careful. "i'm desperate, remember?" your eyes widened in false despair. "don't you remember, quinn?"
his gaze dropped momentarily to your mouth, hung there just long enough for you to notice. "i remember," he said, so gently it shocked you. like he wasn't just talking about today.
the sea air suddenly felt hot, despite the windy chill. you were acutely aware of how close he was to you, his arms on either side of your waist, boxing you against the railing, his bent knee just barely grazing yours. the warmth of him like a radiator, the smell of him overwhelming.
"enough with the overprotective act," you demanded, willing any shake from your voice. "it has to stop, quinn, i can't do it."
"you can't do it?" he asked, calculated, incredulous. "you can't do it?"
you let out an exasperated huff. "what are you saying?" you pleaded. "jesus, fuck, quinn, all you do is stare and stare and stare and say nothing!"
"what am i supposed to say?" he said, gesturing vaguely around. "what could i ever say to you?"
"maybe try something true!" you said. "give that a shot!" your volume was much too loud, and there were probably people around, but you didn't really care, couldn't even register their presence. as always, with him, no one else seemed to matter, to even exist.
you could feel his chest rise and fall against yours for a moment, a pause so thick it almost felt suffocating. "it hurts to look at you," he said, finally.
and it would have been mean, would have been some cheap shot at calling you ugly, if his voice hadn't broken halfway through. if it hadn't seemed to be the hurt that was really the point.
his arms at your sides felt like something scandalous.
"and yet all you do is stare," you said, almost drowsily. "must be doin' a whole lot of hurting, over there."
something that felt like truth rose and fell between the two of you, light as the salty breeze, dark as the deep water below.
"does it hurt, now?" you breathed, your face so close to his as you peered up at him through your lashes.
his exhale felt like a million words, all jumbled up, offered up to you on a silver platter. he looked almost haggard. "so much, doll," he practically whined, and you wanted to taste his confession on your tongue, wanted to know what his honesty felt like on your lips. if it would feel the same as it did those years ago, if it would feel better.
you raised a careful, delicate hand to his damp face, brushed your fingertips along his hairline, slowly, almost mesmerized. he looked so beautiful, then, the faint light of the deck in contrast with the night making his face angelic in a terrible sort of way. "tell me you hate me," you said, little more than a whisper.
he gave an almost undetectable shake of his head, a rogue lock of hair curling into his face. "i can't," he said, soft, pulled into a trance by your ghost of a touch.
his full lips were so close to yours, and you angled your head slightly to made room for him, wanted all of him just so badly-
"no!" came a loud protesting voice that you immediately recognized as savannah. "do not throw her overboard!"
the two of you bolted apart from each other, a few feet between you, now. your pulse was still a pounding thud in your head, though, your body a sack of candy conversation hearts in all of its deliriousness.
you supposed it would look fairly suspicious, quinn so close to you, his hands so close to you, against the railing of the ship. maybe it did look like he was going to toss you over the edge. you could have laughed at how ridiculous the reality was.
savannah now stood in front of the two of you. you couldn't look at quinn, deathly afraid of what you would find if you did.
"what the hell was that, in there?" savannah demanded, gesturing wildly to where she had come from. she fixed her eyes on you. "since when are you a drink-thrower?"
you mumbled something like since a few minutes ago, i guess.
she huffed, turned to quinn. "and i hear you're sending nico on errands to do your dirty work for you?"
quinn looked at his feet, shifted his weight slightly. "wouldn't call it dirty work," he grumbled.
your best friend took a deep breath. "i understand that you guys don't really get along," she said, evenly.
quinn's gaze shot to you for a second, but you didn't return his attentive stare. you have no idea, you wanted to tell savannah.
"and i guess i should have known better than to trap you guys on a boat for a weekend, but you're adults! and the wedding is in less than a week," she continued, not angry but obviously frustrated. "i'm the one who's supposed to have a meltdown on wedding day, okay? not you two."
"sorry, sav," you said, and you felt bad, really.
she waved her hand. "it's my fault, too," she said, "just, i don't know, sleep this off and tomorrow you'll be able to get off this boat. think we're docking for a few hours, or something."
you sighed, snuck one last look at quinn like a last bite of a shared dessert. evidence of emotion just barely hid under his casual mask, evidence of being affected by you.
"i'll do better, okay?" you said, just to savannah, as you passed her, pulled her in for a quick hug in apology. "i promise."
she hugged you back. "i know it's not just you," she whispered into you ear. "and i trust you."
you nodded, squeezed her a last time before making the trek back up to your room. you passed jack, waiting just off to the side, keeping an eye on savannah, presumably.
"goodnight," you said to him, giving him a feeble wave.
he offered you a smile. "don't tell him i said this," he whispered, "that was one of the best things i've seen in my life."
you rolled your eyes at him as he bid you a returning goodnight.
you spotted lexi, sitting at a table just outside of the club entrance, your eyes widening when you recognized the blonde in her lap as the girl quinn had been dancing with. you smiled, slightly. they looked lost in conversation. they looked good together.
as you turned the corner to the stairwell, you almost jumped, then brought a hand to your heart, let out an alarmed exhale before recognizing nico, making out with a girl against the stair railing in an almost violent way.
you tried to squeeze past the two of them, eventually giving him a light shove. "move, nico," you whisper-yelled at him.
when you finally got past him and up the stairs, you were only a few steps from your door, finally closing yourself back into your room, exhaling a heavy breath, slipping off your heels.
you didn't quite make it to your bed, instead opting to fold a leg underneath you on the floor, lean back against the side of the mattress.
you weren't really sure why you suddenly felt that undeniable pressure on your waterline, that heat at the edges of your face that signaled coming tears.
the breeze through your window was a calming chill as you ran your palms up and down your thighs, trying to bring your breathing back to normal.
it felt like your heart was ten times its normal size, like it was so heavy it was sinking down into your stomach, like an anchor into the ocean waves.
your mind was a flurried rainstorm of quinn's hand on your wrist, his arms by your sides, his chest through his button down. his parted lips, so close to yours, his eyes, so unlike the fixed iciness you'd grown used to from him.
tell me you hate me, you'd asked him, practically begged him, your tone a sinful sort of plea.
i can't, he'd answered, like your request for the truth was some binding promise, like your pure want was some altar-laid sacrifice.
you went to sleep that night jittery, dreamed of slate eyes and stolen touches, glances that meant something stark.
of course, the next day, the last full day of the cruise, your energy had not dissipated. it left you just as uncertain and edgy as ever, because now, you wondered what quinn would do when he saw you.
more probable than not, you knew, he would do nothing. he would probably pretend like, just last night, he hadn't been about to kiss you, like he hadn't confessed to something monumental.
he would probably revert right back to staring, staring, staring, and nothing more. he might even revert back to hating you, for all you knew.
and then there was the part of you, a scary, maybe delusional part of you, that believed that maybe last night had changed something. that maybe he would do more than just look, that maybe you'd do more than just fight, that maybe this time would be different.
oh, how you wanted it to be different.
it had been you and quinn, first. how you wanted it to be you and quinn, now.
at the very least, you thought, as you got ready to leave, you'd have a way out, this time. you were finally getting off the boat, going to the beach for a few hours.
if he got to be too much, you could just walk away, this time, like you had grown used to in the past.
it was this positive outlook that you clung to as you made your way off of the boat, meeting up with luke on the stairs.
"and where were you last night?" you asked, after greeting him, raising a questioning brow.
he gave a playful eye roll. "no where as exciting as you," he said, teasing. "almost getting tossed overboard, and all."
you smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "i did not almost get thrown overboard," you clarified, "i was having a civilized discussion with your brother."
luke hummed. "were you?" he asked, "not quite what i heard."
"when did you become such a gossip, hm?" you pestered, stepping off onto the dock, exhaling with slight relief at the feeling of solid ground underneath your feet.
he shrugged. "people tell me stuff," he said, simply. he didn't have to clarify who people were.
you narrowed your eyes. "how much stuff?"
luke met your gaze, and there was an understanding there that scared you. "enough," he said.
you looked at your feet as you stepped onto the sand, found it warm, calming. "oh, great," you mumbled. you could only imagine what quinn must have said about you. how desperate and deluded you were, how you had gotten so attached to him after a single night, how you'd suddenly grown so malicious towards him as soon as he didn't return your feelings. your head hung, just a bit, because you hated to think that luke, someone you trusted and cared about so much, would think this of you, just from hearing it from quinn. "shocked that you even hang out with me, then, honestly."
you could feel luke's gaze on you like the sun. he cleared his throat, making you look up at him. "think, uh," he began, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous sort of habit. "think maybe you should just talk to him."
you laughed, spotting savannah and jack setting up an umbrella further down the beach. "because that's worked so well for us," you joked, but your heart jumped in your throat. because, oh, how easy it felt to refer to yourself and quinn as an us.
luke just shrugged. "it's worked better than the alternative," he said, putting his towel down before making to help jack with beach chairs.
his words stuck with you, suspended in your mind, for a moment, because he was right. you realized, however painfully, that you would prefer a screaming match with quinn by the pool to silent staring across the room at a gathering with your friends.
you'd take an excruciating argument with him over feigned, false civility any day of the week.
there you stood, your feet in the sand, looking out at the water, and you finally understood that you'd take all of the ugly, all of the hurt, all of the cold, if only it'd give you all of him.
"uh, you good?" sav said, giving you a confused look as she registered your quiet stillness.
you shook yourself from your mind, smiled at her. "all good," you said, and it was true.
lexi joined with the blonde from the night before in tow, whom she announced as erin.
you gave erin a guilty smile when you introduced yourself. "sorry again about last night," you said.
erin waved you off. "don't worry about it," she said, "that was the most dramatic night out i've had in forever."
she set up her towel next to you and lexi, and you quickly found how easy she was to talk to.
nico ambled his way down, at some point, eyes hidden behind massive sunglasses, a baseball cap on his head, a giant hoodie on despite the heat.
jack laughed when he got close enough. "the feds onto you, or something?" he said, referring to nico's ridiculous getup.
nico's pretty face contorted into a scowl. "i'm never drinking again," was his rough reply as he sat down on a towel, practically hissing at the bright light of the sun.
"yeah, right," you laughed. "you said that last time."
"fuck off," nico grumbled, hanging his head between his bent legs.
"oh, don't be mean, nico," savannah said, "it's not our fault you can't hold your tequila."
luke's face scrunched up is distaste. "you were drinking tequila last night?" he asked, "when did you join delta gamma?"
nico made to protest, but you didn't hear it, not really, because you were distracted.
your attention had strayed to where quinn now stood, right beside luke's chair. his approach had been silent, practically stealthy, but he was here, and he was looking at you.
the conversation around you seemed to fade away, to dip down deep below the gentle waves that lapped at the shoreline.
it was still a shock to your system every time you saw him, even though you'd known each other for so long. maybe it was an even greater shock, now, because you weren't quite used to seeing so much of him, of getting so much of him, on back to back to back days.
after being practically starved of him, or at least of his true emotions, this weekend had felt like being drowned in him, held under the water by your throat until your vision swam and your chest was on the edge of exploding.
it didn't help that the way he looked, now, in broad daylight, was so brutally stunning that it stole your breath.
he looked almost weary, the shadows of his face defined and sharp, his jaw rough with stubble. maybe he'd tossed and turned all night, as you had? maybe he'd dreamed of you, too?
your languished gaze caught slowly on his bare arms, returned reluctantly back to his face. he appeared to be just barely on the cusp of, well, something, spurred on by your obvious attention, something alight in his eyes that made your stomach flip.
you felt your cheeks grow hot, bit your lip, slightly. when he was looking at you, like this, you could all but hear his firm rasp in your ear, feel his callused hand tug at your hair.
you looked away, down at your hands, afraid that your eyes were giving too much away, afraid that he could somehow tell exactly what you were thinking, exactly what memories his presence was bringing to mind.
everything felt overheated, and not just because of the sun.
time passed at an agonizing pace. hours during which you could sense when he was looking at you, could feel his stare like a bullet to the heart. during which you would occasionally look back, meet his heated, cryptic eyes, silently beg him to do something, to do anything.
but, for hours, he didn't, and you grew angrier, more fiery with every passing second.
of course he would do nothing, you tried to rationalize, this was quinn you were talking about. this was quinn, in front of all of his friends, so of course he would pretend like you were barely there.
the hurt of it all made you feel almost seasick, woozy and disbelieving, mentally grasping wildly for something to grab on to.
the hurt of him made you seasick, the whole of him made you lovesick, but what did it matter, you thought. at what point were you not just dizzy over him?
"i'm going for a walk," you said, abruptly, getting up and mumbling some affirmation when sav reminded you the boat was leaving soon, so you should hurry back.
the sand shifting under your feet, the pleasant chill of the water at your ankles, you wanted it to calm you down, you wanted your escape plan to calm you down, like it had so many times in the past.
that's what you'd said all weekend, wasn't it? that it had been so hard to be around quinn without a clear way out?
you wanted to scream, felt heat prick behind your eyes, because here you were, walking away, and it didn't feel any easier. you didn't feel any relief, any satisfaction.
he was back there, and you were here, and it didn't look like last night had changed anything, for him. it didn't look like you were as life-altering a person as he was, for you.
the thought made slow, hot tears finally, finally break through. you blinked hard as you continued to walk, the pressure in your head painful, scorching droplets hanging onto your throat before falling to the sand below.
you had no idea how long you had been walking, how long you'd been crying, but eventually, you looked up, and realized it was actually getting darker. the sun was much lower in the sky, the wind a bit quicker. clouds had began to creep in, making it grey and ominous.
great, you thought, rain on your impossibly long walk back was exactly what you needed.
you stilled, looked down at your feet, let out a deep, heavy breath, watched the water twist and pool around your ankles. maybe you could just stay like this forever. maybe your body would eventually decompose into the damp sand and smooth pebbles, turn into something beautiful.
"jesus, doll, there you are."
your head whipped back as you turned around, found a slightly out of breath quinn now in front of you. you blinked at him, your lips shut. was this some trick of the storm? what was he doing here? how dare he follow you?
your eyes didn't leave his, as you watched his gaze visibly soften so beautifully when he took in your face.
it must have been bad, you thought, evidence of crying for however long all over you. your cheeks must have been splotchy, your lashes clumped together, your lips puffy, eyes red.
this vision of you seemed to sober him, to make his heightened breathing cool down to something more composed.
he exhaled, braved a step closer to you, now only a foot apart. his gaze dripped down you in a way that had you wanting to just sink into the earth. "doll," he began, almost a warning, "you been crying?"
you didn't say anything, for a second, didn't indulge his obvious question with a response.
"what are you doing here?" you said, eventually, but it came out like a statement, a whisper, as you messily wiped your face with the back of your hand.
he had the gall to blink back at you, as if confused, that sorry softness still drenching his face, his posture. "you'd been gone for a while," he began, "the boat was leaving, and i just-"
"do you just want to fight, again?" you asked, your blood growing hotter with each second he was here, so close to you. you hated how wobbly your voice sounded, how resigned you already seemed to be. you peered up at him, felt your heart crack in two. "do you know your lines, yet, quinn?"
"i don't want to fight," he said, and conflict burned bright across his gaze, indecision.
"should i start or you?" you pressed, ignoring his admission, "how many times do i have to make a fool of myself before i finally stop expecting you to act like i matter?"
his breath was sharp in silence. the wind whipped your hair around your face, sticking to your tear-stained cheeks.
"of course you matter," he said, almost incredulous, like the whole idea of thinking otherwise was ridiculous.
your laugh was bitter, mean. "oh, of course," you bit out. "of course, right? how could i not be able to tell? you say you don't hate me, but you won't even talk to me in front of our friends," you swung you arms about in gesture. "jesus fuck, quinn, you almost kissed me, last night, and today it's right back to whatever bullshit we've been pulling for the last two years." you looked away from him, so overwhelmed with emotion. "it wasn't me who ruined this whole thing."
"you think i ruined it?" something equally terrifying and lovely melted across his eyes.
you scoffed. "it wasn't me who pretended like we'd never met," you snarked. you could almost sense a well of feeling rumbling through him like a cresting wave.
"you left!" he finally rasped, the most emotion you'd seen from him, maybe ever, his voice echoing in your head as the wind continued its assault, as small raindrops began to fall. "you left, doll, okay? i thought that night was special, but i woke up alone," he said, and it was so gravelly, sad, you felt it in your teeth.
you blinked, watched his chest rise and fall in heaving breaths. how could that be true? it dawned on you that you barely remembered much of what you did that morning, having focused so intently, for so long, on him. was it possible this whole thing was a misunderstanding?
"so you pretend not to know me?" you pressed, rain cold on your legs, your face, an icy contrast to the hot tears that had stopped flowing.
he gave a resigned gesture, blew out a breath. "i was embarrassed!" he said, "i am embarrassed, okay, doll? it's fucking embarrassing to be so into someone and then have them leave without saying goodbye, alright?"
your split heart thumped despite its brittle ache. there was a pause as you both registered just what the other had just admitted to.
both of you were soaked, now, rain dripping down your faces, but you didn't feel cold. you felt as if every inch of your skin was on fire, like your heart was trying to claw its way out of your chest.
you didn't know what to say. he had laid all his cards on the table, right in front of you, given you the honesty you'd been begging him for.
"and, you know, you wanted to kiss me, too, last night," quinn said, finally, defensive, hot, a thermometer approaching the highest temperature. as if the fact made it easier on him, somehow, as if it was a thread tying him to the earth, keeping him from floating away. "it wasn't just me."
you groaned through clenched teeth, a guttural sound. "of course i did! of course i want to kiss you!" you almost yelled, laying a tight fist on his solid chest, just barely holding back from slamming it into him.
his eyes were a forest fire, then, as your choice of words registered, a pause heavier than rock between you.
"wanted or want, doll?" he asked, and it was a breath, a whine, a plea as he allowed himself to wrap a heavy arm around your waist, pull you closer to him, until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. the closest he'd been, dizzyingly close, like a dream.
you realized your mistake even in your dazed state, how he'd said you'd wanted to kiss him the night before. how you said you want to.
you could have easily laughed him off, said it was a tenses slip-up. you unfurled your fist, instead, laid your palm flat against his chest, perhaps imagined his heart beating in your grip.
he had been so honest with you, after all, had finally told you the truth. the least you could do was return the favor.
"want," you all but whispered, gazing up at him through raindrops and vulnerability.
what was and what could be melted away in a single moment.
he was a blur of relief and desperate motion. "thank fuck," was his murmured groan as he took the side of your face in a rough hand and guided your lips to his in a kiss that felt like a feat of nature one million times more impressive than the storm that blew around you.
it had been years of countless petty fights and cruel misunderstandings, of bitter jealousy and longing gazes, of deifying the last time you'd had quinn, like this. and yet, still, it was so much better than you remembered. he was.
the way he clutched at your hip like he couldn't bear to let you go, not anymore, not this time. the way his hand on your face was so firm, but so gentle. that undeniable faint grapefruit taste, so completely him.
how you melted into his chest, wrapped your arms around his neck, just wanting him closer, closer, just wanting him so close that you'd never be apart again.
you whimpered against his mouth when his teeth pulled lightly at your bottom lip, like some punishment for all you'd put him though. you just rooted your hand in his hair, now soaking wet, tugged at the curls near his neck, in your own kind of retaliation, until he gave a choked moan of his own.
that's for what you did to me, the soft sensation of pain screamed at both of you.
but his chapped lips moved with such intention against yours, like he wanted to swallow down all of the tears you'd cried over him. your body against his felt so right, so warm and comfortable even in the wet and cold weather.
but this is for what you are to me, was the ultimate response, communicated wordlessly through your kiss, through his.
at some point, you both pulled away, only just slightly, your forehead leaning against his as you both caught your breath, so elevated. his stony eyes were so molten, so clear and telling, as he traced his thumb down your jaw, finally wrapped both arms around your back and clasped his hands.
the silence was so beautiful, for a while.
"did the boat really leave?" you asked, dazed, finally, your voice low, husky.
quinn just nodded. "jack said they'll reimburse us for the night if we stay at the inn downtown," he explained, looking around to locate the road, the civilization that existed outside of your perfect bubble. his eyes found you again, something like mirth hidden in there, somewhere. "probably should get out of the rain."
your swollen mouth quirked up in a half-smile as you nodded your agreement, let him hold your hand in his as you made the short walk to the inn jack had been referring to.
you checked in together, ignoring a slightly confused look from the person at the desk, probably at the fault of your rain-drenched appearances. quinn made to grab some overnight necessities at the supermarket next door, kindly letting you take a warm shower while he did so.
when you opened the door to your room, you quickly realized that there was only one bed to share between the two of you. your stomach rolled at the thought, at the pressure that would exist, or not exist, when he returned. at the question of how far you were going to take this. your heart hurt at just how far you'd take it, take him, if he'd let you.
the thought vibrated through you as you let the warm water wash away the day's wear from your skin, eventually wrapping yourself up in a towel.
you hadn't realized how late it was, the quick storm messing with your conception of passing time. it was almost nine by the time quinn got back.
he closed the door behind himself, and the clicking noise that followed felt like something serious as he turned to face you, set the bag of things he had gotten on the dresser.
he cleared his throat as his gaze caught haphazardly on your bare shoulders, the slope of your neck, then finally registering the bed that you were sitting on, the singularity of it. he flushed down to his collar, making butterflies flutter to life in your chest.
he eventually averted his gaze enough to maintain a glimpse of dignity, opening the bathroom door. "got some stuff for you in there, doll," he called, gently, over his shoulder before he shut the door behind him, seemingly to take a shower himself.
you tried not to blush, because you were too old for that, too mature. you exhaled, tried to convince yourself that you would be fine no matter what happened, tonight. you'd kissed, sure, and there seemed to be an air of lightness, of understanding between you, but that didn't necessarily mean you were entirely past all of your issues. that didn't mean quinn wanted to move as fast as you did.
you distracted yourself by going through the bag on the dresser, trying to put together some semblance of your nighttime routine. the clothing options, understandably, must not have been plentiful. you smiled, laughed lightly as you pulled out the tshirt he'd gotten for you to change into, which was one of those touristy ones that read the person who bought me this shirt loves me very much!
and it was obviously because there had been no other options, but a piece of you clung to the sentiment, dug your nails into the flesh of it so hard it began to bleed.
regardless, you got ready to go to sleep, pretended to ignore when you heard the shower head turn off, the bathroom door eventually open, averted your gaze and forced away your blush upon quinn's reappearance.
the air of the room felt almost metallic, tangible, like it was rattling around the space instead of flowing.
you knew it was partially due to the way he looked, now, damp and flushed from the warm water, his chest bare and broad, a towel slung low on his hips. you swallowed, looked up at the ceiling, as if there was something very interesting up there. as if there was anything more captivating to you than him.
he pulled on the cheap clothes he'd gotten for himself, went through the motions of his own little routine, all while you pretended to be on your phone, scrolling through apps but not retaining even a bit of information.
"good if i turn the light out?" he eventually asked, soft, to which you nodded, consenting to the darkness that followed, the rustling of comforters and sheets as he joined you on the bed.
you set your phone down, tried to close your eyes, but you couldn't relax, not with him just so, so close, not with so much that you still wanted to do. not with years of complete lack weighing on you, not with the memory of his lips on yours so beautifully fresh in your mind.
you were turned away from him, a bit of space between you, but you could somehow feel that he was awake, too, that he was just as aware of the energy and expectation that coated the two of you like a watery film.
the texture of the inn's cheap sheets felt grating and terrible against your hot skin, made you restless, rubbing your legs together against the other slowly, fussing with your pillow, tediously careful to not make contact with him.
"doll," was quinn's inevitable comment, more of a warning, a statement, spoken low and rough, rumbling through you.
you didn't turn to face him, but stilled. "sorry," you mumbled, your cheeks warm.
"what's wrong?" you could basically feel the words on your back, the heat from his breath, his body.
you exhaled, still refusing to face him head-on, knew you'd be done for if you did. "nothing's wrong," you whispered.
he hummed, almost like this was amusing to him. "can feel you thinkin' from here," he said, soft. "tell me."
the pause before you spoke was solid, weighted. "just don't want to go back what we were before," you said, and it was the tone of a beggar, so honest in want. "just want this time to be different."
then he reached his arms out, wrapped them around your middle, pulled you back against his soft frame. you swore you must have exhaled a thousand anxieties as you melted into him, shifted your hips back against him.
"i want that, too," he admitted, and you could barely stop your smile as you finally turned to face him, undeniably beautiful even in the darkness.
"really?" you asked, not caring for a second how pathetic it sounded, how glutted with hope, almost childlike.
you felt his nod more than saw it as his grip around you tightened, his hands firmly grasping the flesh of your hips as you reached up, traced your fingers along the edge of his jaw.
"i'm sorry i left," you breathed, and you could feel his chest contract at your apology. "i never wanted to hurt you."
"i'm sorry, too," he said, "'m sorry i acted like you didn't matter to me, doll." his tone dripped with meaning. "'m sorry i lied."
your mouth quirked. "done a lot of lying, haven't we?" you mused. it was honestly impressive, how long you'd both kept up the charade.
he mumbled some affirmation that you felt against your forehead, the heat of it making you rub your calves together, again. "still nervous?" he asked.
you peered up at him. "not nervous," you clarified, "i just-"
you exhaled, lowered your gaze, almost stumbled over your words, because how could you tell him exactly what you thought?
how could you say all i've wanted for years is for you to touch me like you did that night?
somehow, maybe because he was feeling something similar, he seemed to know exactly where your head was, exactly the dilemma that existed in your mind.
"ask me," he said, hard, firm, "ask me, doll. know i like you desperate."
you whimpered, because his words could have been a taunt, had been a taunt before, but not this time.
because you were desperate, only for him. and he wanted you anyways.
"i need you, quinn," you whined, gathering his shirt in a clenched fist, "fuck, i need you so bad."
that was enough, though you supposed the truth had always been enough, for the two of you.
it was enough for his lips to crash against yours for the second time, that night, this time so soft, no longer fueled by anger or revenge but by something lovelier, slow burning, something you felt in your feet.
your lips parted almost immediately in a soft moan, making space for him as his hand braced the back of your neck, holding you tight as he shifted you so that he was on top of you, the weight and solidity of him almost oppressive, if not exactly what you'd been craving for so long.
he kissed you hard, adoring, like he wanted the outline of your mouth imprinted on his forever, as his other hand traced down the side of your body, eventually stilling to push your searching hips into the mattress.
"be good, doll," he murmured against your jaw, leaving messy kisses down your neck that had your throat feeling tight.
"can't," you whined, grasping for the curls at the nape of his neck, lifting your hips again to try to get some kind of friction against his lap. "can't, baby, been waiting so long." you tugged at his hair as his hand rested heavily on your inner thigh. "been wantin' you forever."
he let out a groan, finally moved his broad hand to tug your clothes aside, run his fingers through your folds. "yeah?" you could feel him smile against your neck as your breathing picked up, as he just barely grazed your clit, making you squirm. "been thinkin' 'bout me?" he asked. "'bout the last time i fucked you?"
you whimpered, nodded feverishly, because you had been thinking about it. a day rarely went by that you didn't think about it. it felt like something mythical that it didn't have to be just a memory anymore, that he didn't have to be your haunted house. that he could be here, with you, like this.
he pushed a thick finger into you, urging a strained sound from your throat. "'s okay," he cooed, watching you adjust to the pressure, the sensation.
he began a steady pace, adding another finger, making the slick sound of you seem to echo off the thin walls of the inn, making you wonder briefly if there was someone staying in the room next door. such a concern was quickly overwhelmed, though, as you got used to the stretch of his fingers, began to hunger for something else.
"know 've been dreamin' 'bout you, don't you?" he asked, moving his fingers faster, "fuck, got me all worked up, all those times, doll." his smirk grew arrogant. "so mean of you."
you clutched at his tense forearm. "''m sorry, quinn," you begged, rough and wild, "please, baby, please fuck me."
he slowed his pace, let you paw at his clothes before helping move them out of the way. "ask so pretty for me," he praised, spitting into his hand, pumping himself up and down, so hard and hot against you as he lined himself up, his voice dipping down even lower, somehow, like he was speaking only to himself, as if in a dream. "been dyin' to fuck you."
you whined when he began to push into you, the stretch dizzying, making your vision swim, your chest tighten. you grabbed a fistful of a sheet with one hand, the other arm grasping for him, eventually looping around his neck, your nails digging into the tense muscles of his shoulders.
his exhale was a shudder, one you felt so deeply, so intimately, one that told you that he was feeling a similar way to you - like you were being pulled between memory and reality, what was and what would be.
the pressure felt impossible as he bottomed out, let you adjust to him. "you're, fuck," you bit out, squeezing your eyes shut, "'re bigger than i remember."
someone else probably would have smirked, said something self-satisfying, but he didn't, seemingly too lost in the feeling of you around him, of having you, like this. "open your eyes, doll," he said, strained.
you gave a slight shake of your head in protest, knowing exactly what your refusal would do to him, knowing exactly the roughness it would bring out as he began to fuck into you, slow and deep, so overwhelming and perfect you could have cried.
"don't be a brat," he ordered.
a greedy smile fell across your lips when you felt his warm palm on your throat, his hand squeezing just barely, just enough feel him, everywhere. you opened your eyes, met his dark gaze, felt yourself clench down so tightly around him.
his rhythm grew brutal. "still like that, do you, doll?" he groaned, to which you whined at the insinuation that he remembered every detail of that night the way you did. that he had remembered what you liked and didn't like so vividly, even now.
"more, baby," you pleaded, feeling your head grow fuzzy with pleasure, that pressure inside of you so extreme, heat bursting through your waterline like you were about to cry. "fuck, quinn, need you harder."
"yeah?" he rasped, releasing your neck and bringing his hands down to tease your clit, making your back arch up off of the mattress, your hips jolting. "'f you needed a good fuck, doll, should've just asked."
you whimpered at his words, so cruel, but they pushed you impossibly closer, regardless, as he placed a wide palm on your lower stomach, intensifying the sensation. "i needed it," you babbled, feeling the wet feeling of hot tears on your cheeks but not really registering anything besides him, "needed your cock, baby."
he groaned, looked up for a second as if praying. maybe he was. maybe this was something worth praying for. "can feel you close, doll," he said, his thrusts growing wild, his face flushed with exertion, "give me it, hm?"
"'m gonna cum," you breathed, not recognizing your husk of a voice as you rooted your hand in his hair.
"cum on my cock," he said, a plea, "fuck, doll, been so perfect for me, waited so good."
you came apart at his words, your vision growing dimmer even in darkness, your thighs tensing as you felt your high trigger his own orgasm, warm and wet, his rough groan louder than even the storm-heightening waves outside, somehow more powerful.
his heavy body collapsed atop yours, both of you damp with sweat, your hair sticking to your tear-stained face, his soft curls to the back of his neck. you could feel every exhale against your chest, every twitch of his muscles in your bones.
at some point, he rolled off of you, pulled you against him, so, so tight, like letting you go would be something unforgivable. his arms around you felt like a million apologies, like something solid underneath you, finally, after being seasick and dizzy for so, so long.
he traced a drowsy thumb under your eyes, collecting the remnants of tears you'd barely noticed you'd shed.
"that good, eh?" he rasped, and you could hear his smile.
you rolled your eyes, couldn't stop your own grin as you playfully slapped him on the chest, relished in his low laugh against your hand, into your hair. "hey, can i ask you something?" you said, propping yourself up on your elbow.
"'course," he said, and that alone felt like something too lovely to be true.
"will you be my date to the wedding?" you asked, and your smile grew wider at his obvious conflict of interest. "even though it means you'll lose our bet?"
he groaned, rubbed a hand over his face. "fine," he said, his eyes flashing in the dark, "but only 'cause you look so pretty like this."
you gave a light noise of excitement in celebration, leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. "and for my prize i choose," you said, trailing off, thinking, tapping a finger to your mouth in contemplation before pointing it at quinn. "you."
his gentle smile was something surreal as he pulled you even closer to him, your cheek against his chest. "done," he breathed, and when he pressed his lips to the top of your head, it was something right.
when you finally reconvened with your friends the next day at the port, savannah approached you first, pulling you in for a hug.
"i'm so sorry," she said, "i wanted to stay and wait for you, but quinn said he was going to go by himself, and then luke said i shouldn't-"
"it's okay," you said, "it all worked out. we're here now, safe and sound."
savannah's brow quirked. "you seem awfully chipper," she observed, taking a step back as if to get the full picture.
you smiled at her, and you could feel quinn smile too, next to you, your stomach flipping when he looped a hand around your waist and pulled you to him, his grip strong and sure.
sav's eyes went wide, lexi laughed. nico whispered something to jack, luke gave an exaggerated fist pump.
"well," savannah said, "took you long enough, jesus."
"wait," you said, slowly, "you knew?"
she waved you off. "of course i knew, i'm your best friend."
you gestured around to the group. "who else knew?"
lexi raised her hand as if in a classroom. you nodded, invited her to speak up. "like knew that you guys fucked a couple years ago?" she clarified, "or knew that you guys secretly were super obsessed with each other?"
"because the answer to both of those questions is yes," nico piped up from the back.
quinn was silent, his low laugh against your neck as he clasped his arms around your front, pulled you back against him.
you turned your neck to look up at him. "did you tell them?" you asked.
"i told someone who probably told them," he mused.
you fixed your gaze on luke. "you absolute drama queen," you scolded, though you were smiling.
luke put his hands up in the air in surrender. "not my fault," he said, "we would have figured it out, anyways. not like you two were doing a good job of hiding anything."
"he's got a point," quinn whispered just behind your ear.
you sighed. "fine," you conceded. "i forgive you. and i forgive all of you for abandoning me in some random seaside town."
nico huffed. "yeah, really slummin' it, eh?" he asked, "you were at a bed and breakfast for a night with your pretty-much boyfriend. relax."
quinn pinched your hip, which made you smile. "so, where are we dropping nico off?" you asked, "might i suggest a deserted island?"
"finally gets the guy she wants and suddenly she's got jokes," nico muttered.
you felt quinn smile against your neck, and you smiled, too.
the wedding, the next weekend, was exactly the beautiful occasion you knew it would be, with only the most predictable of issues and the most simple of solutions.
you walked down the aisle with quinn, whose touch on your waist lingered right before you split apart to stand on opposite sides of the altar. when you both stilled, you shared a soft smile that felt like home.
lexi walked next, arm and arm with nico. erin was somewhere in the pews, as her and lex had really hit it off, and you were pretty sure about four girls here were under the impression that they were nico's one and only date.
luke walked by himself, a ring-bearer and flower-girl, of sorts, his tie a little too loose, his suit jacket too wide in the shoulders. his friend-date, mackie, you remembered, gave an emphatic cheer when luke tripped over the carpeted aisle, stumbling on his feet.
finally, sav walked down, looking just so beautiful, alight and glowing with the sort of beauty that comes with being a kind person surrounded by those you love.
it was a beautiful ceremony.
the reception was distinct in its energy, heightened by an open bar and big dance floor.
you danced with your best friends, smiled as you watched jack and sav enjoy dances together, laughed as nico tried to juggle his several dates.
"might not have been the best idea, eh?" you asked him, once, when he passed you and luke on the dance floor.
he made a pft sound, waved you off. "i can handle it," he said, his eyes suddenly filling with alarm, "but if you see the redhead, warn me."
you danced goofily with luke for a bit, giggling at his awkward moves, mimicking them in an exaggerated way.
when the songs grew slower, lazily, you felt a hand on the small of your back that you'd know anywhere, that you'd known even in absence.
"mind if i cut in, lukey?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes at his funny wording, but luke complied with a smile, and then it was the two of you, quinn's hands around your waist, yours looped around his neck, your fingers playing softly with his hair.
"you look really pretty, tonight," you said to him, unable to hide your smile, and it was true. his unruly hair, sharp features, full lips, it was distracting. that, combined with his pressed pants and the fact that a few buttons had come undone from his shirt over the course of the night. "everyone's jealous of me, i bet."
you'd tell him a thousand times to see the way his gaze softened, the way a faint pink blush bloomed across the bridge of his nose. "thank you, doll," he said, genuineness evident in his voice, soft. "'re too good to me, yeah?"
you laughed, at this, felt it light up your face. "makin' up for lost time," you teased.
he pulled you so close to him, then, until his embrace was basically a swaying hug, a tired excuse for a dance. "got all the time in the world," he said, low, only for you, against your temple, and it felt like rebuilding a world from devastation. it felt like beginning, like living. it felt like him.
it had been you and quinn, first. it had been you and quinn, the coward and the fool, in the middle, however violently.
and, finally, it was you and quinn, now. now, and forever.
fin.
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suguann · 2 days
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tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]
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Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.
But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.
The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.
It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.
He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”
“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.
“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.
“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.
“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”
His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.
He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.
Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—
“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.
You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”
“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep…here. With me?”
When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.
There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.
After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”
Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”
You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”
“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.
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