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alexandralyman · 4 months ago

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Frankie Morales x Reader fic

A little "friends with benefits" Frankie fic for my partner in crime @meanderingcaptainswanmusings - who loves Frankie Morales like I love Dave York!

Summary: You and Frankie are friends. Just friends and nothing more. But after a bad breakup with your dickhead ex and a failed attempt at a Tinder hookup, you find yourself on Frankie's doorstep one Saturday night in a bodycon dress and fuck-me heels. Turns out, Frankie is more than willing to oblige. After all, what are friends for?

8,221 words, rated E for general sexytimes and Frankie's skill with his mouth. AO3 link here

Hope you Frankie fans enjoy!

Frankie With Benefits

You step out of the Uber, muttering your thanks to the driver while closing the door with your phone already in hand to give him five stars and a good tip despite your foul mood. It wasn’t his fault that your date was such a disaster after all, plus he didn’t try to make small talk and played good music instead of some douchey podcast. You can still hear the faint Cuban rhythms as he drives off into the sultry Florida night, it’s both hot and humid as per usual and the contrast between the ice-cold AC in the car to the nearly triple-digit temps outside is a shock to your system that distracts you from noticing something is off until it’s too late.

”Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

While the building in front of you is very familiar, it’s decidedly not your apartment complex. Your plans of changing out of your tight dress and fuck-me heels into some ratty old pjs and killing the bottle of wine chilling away in your fridge while you delete Tinder for good because men fucking suck has just been thrown a major curveball. You open Uber back up to check your ride history and squint at the screen through the false eyelashes that took forever to put on, realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you must have tapped on the wrong destination when you left the bar in such a rush while telling your date where to shove it. That’s the only explanation as to why you’re not currently looking at your front entrance.

You’re looking directly at Frankie’s house instead.

Fuck.

Standing at the end of his driveway feeling very self-conscious in your bodycon dress with your driver already long gone, you go to book a new ride so you can slip away before any of Frankie’s nosy neighbors start to wonder about the woman loitering on their quiet little street in an outfit that’s decidedly not “family friendly.” Or worse, before Frankie sees you. A minute ticks by, then two, and no drivers pop up, not even with ridiculous surge pricing that you’ll gladly pay just to get home.

“C’mon, c’mon. Ugh!”

You finally give up as the streets nearby stay frustratingly empty on the little map, stuffing your phone into your purse with a sigh and turning to face Frankie’s house. His living room light is on so he’s obviously home and not out with the guys tonight, you can see the soft yellow glow through the curtains like a beacon offering safe harbor after a shitty evening.

It’s Frankie. If you can’t be alone in your apartment drowning your sorrows in grocery store wine, there’s really nowhere else you’d rather be.

“He needs to resurface his driveway,” you mutter under your breath as you carefully pick your way up the asphalt towards his front door. You’re certainly not wobbling with every step because you wore stilettos that make your butt look great but you can’t actually walk properly in. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it. You manage to make it all the way without breaking an ankle, knocking and wondering if it would be less embarrassing to head barefoot to the bus stop at the corner instead of admitting why you’re here. But before you can kick them off and make a break for it Frankie answers, blinking in confusion when he sees you standing on his doorstep in a dress with a neckline that plunges more than an Olympic diver and shoes that cost half a month’s rent, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up to scratch behind his neck as he takes you in with those dark, expressive eyes of his. “Um…did we have plans tonight, or something?

He stares openly at your cleavage for a moment before his gaze snaps back up to your face with a sheepish look. If it was any other man you’d be annoyed, but Frankie has never ogled or leered at you in all the time you’ve been friends, and you did just show up unannounced at his door with your tits on full display, after all. You don’t mind if he takes a peek, someone might as well get to appreciate them tonight.

“No,” you reassure him. “Can I come in? I just bailed on a shitty date and must have accidentally picked your address when I ordered an Uber instead of mine. I tried to book another one to take me home but there’s no drivers around right now.”

Frankie nods. “Sure, sure, of course,” he says, shuffling aside to let you in and closing the door behind you with a soft click. You kick off your heels with a sigh because it would be rude to wear them in his house and not because they’re absolutely killing your feet, letting them tangle with his sneakers and already feeling a little better.

“Mi casa et su casa,” he adds with a gallant sweep of his arm once you’re safely inside.

You’ve spent a decent amount of time at Casa Morales since you first met Frankie a few years ago and quickly became friends with him, coming over for everything from backyard BBQs with his Delta Force buddies and their families, to movie nights on his couch just the two of you, to hauling your laundry over in his truck when the machines in your building went out of order again and he insisted that you use his instead of spending money at a laundromat. You know your way around his place. His house is small, but it’s bright and airy just like the ones you sigh over while browsing Zillow in your apartment, and while Frankie’s life can be messy at times (mainly thanks to said Delta Force buddies, Santiago Garcia in particular) he keeps his home neat and tidy and welcoming. When you go into the living room there’s nothing out of place, just a half-eaten bowl of chips and a bottle of beer on the coffee table. On a coaster, no less. The TV is still on, he was obviously enjoying a quiet night in for one when you crashed his evening in a dress that revealed more than it covered and shoes your credit card and arches were both still recovering from.

He follows you in, his presence at your back familiar and comforting despite your current “men fucking suck” state of mind. Frankie’s the lone exception at the moment.

“I’d drive you home but I’ve already had a few beers tonight. Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

You wave off the apology in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll just give it a few minutes and book another ride.”

“Uh, about that….”

You turn and look at him, confused. He gives you a “don’t shoot the messenger” look with both hands raised and nods towards the TV.

“The game just finished. All the Uber drivers are going to be down at the stadium by now.”

“Son of a bitch,” you swear, closing your eyes in frustration. You couldn’t have picked a worse night to get stranded without a ride, everyone within a twenty mile radius of the stadium knows it’s impossible to get an Uber after any big event. Frankie knows it, you know it, you just didn’t plan on your date being a lying asshole and having to compete with twenty thousand sportsball fans for a lift home. That’s it, you were done with dating apps for good, if you hadn’t downloaded Tinder again you could be at home in bed right now having a threesome with your wine and your vibrator and as a bonus your feet wouldn’t hurt.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you have a few blisters. The damn shoes were just like men, looked so great at first and then rubbed you in all the wrong places.

“Sooooo,” Frankie drawls when you flop down ungracefully on his couch, eyeing you carefully from his tactical position behind the coffee table. “You were on a date tonight? I thought you said you’d given up on dating after Dickface McDickhead….oh fuck, please tell me you’re not back together with that asshole again?”

His nickname for your ex always makes you snort. Frankie was never his biggest fan. He wasn’t Frankie’s either, hating the fact that you two were such good friends. When you finally broke up with him for good, Frankie threw a BBQ the following weekend and grilled you the best steak you’d ever eaten with a huge smile on his face.

”What are we celebrating?” Santi asked when he arrived, putting down the beer he’d brought and eyeing the streamers and balloons decorating Frankie’s backyard in confusion.

“The fact that I won’t go to jail for throwing trash out of my helicopter,” Frankie said.

Santi stared blankly at him. “The fuck are you on about, Fish?”

Frankie just grinned at you over Santi’s shoulder while you rolled your eyes and grabbed one of the drinks. He even had a party hat perched jauntily on top of his ballcap, and a piñata hanging up in the yard, “for the kids”.

You took a few good swings at it with the bat he handed you while picturing your ex’s face on the paper-mache.

The mere thought of getting back with Drew, aka Dickface, makes you shudder. “No, I’m not back with him, and I’m still done with dating.”

You swipe some chips out of the bowl and tuck your legs under you, ignoring how high it makes your dress ride up your thighs with only a token effort to tug it back down.

“You’re done with dating, but you were out on a date? Little confused here.”

Frankie sits down on the other end of the couch, muting the post-game recap on the TV and turning so that he’s facing you. He’s all casual in jeans and a faded T-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders when he twists, hair falling on his forehead in a mop of messy curls without his usual hat to cover them. You should feel out of place in your sexy little dress, full-glam makeup and the “effortless beachy waves” that took you an hour, three different tutorials and a whole fucking lot of effort to achieve, but you’re far more comfortable here with him than you were with the man you ditched back at the trendy bar full of wannabe influencers with insanely overpriced cocktails. Comfortable enough to tell him the truth, with a little help from the tequila in the deconstructed margaritas that you drank.

“It was supposed to be a hookup,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks go warm in a combination of embarrassment and alcohol.

His eyes go wide at that and he lets out a little cough of surprise. “That explains the dress,” he says, glancing down at it again before quickly looking back up at your face.

You wave a hand up and down yourself. “Dress, shoes, lip gloss,” you list off, not mentioning the rather skimpy new underwear that you’re one wrong move away from flashing him with. “I was tired of sitting home alone on Saturday nights, you know?”

”Hey!” he protests, and you duck your head with a wince. It’s Saturday night and he was sitting home alone until you showed up.

“Sorry. No offense, Frankie.”

“None taken, cariño. But only because it’s you.”

The casual endearment makes you feel even warmer, or maybe it’s just the Patrón you downed before leaving Mr. Talk, Dark, and Liar Liar Pants on Fire back at the bar hitting your system.

“Deconstructed margarita” your ass, it was a shot of triple sec and a shot of tequila with a hideous up charge, and they didn’t even include the lime.

You could leave it at that, suggest watching a shitty Netflix movie to pass the time until you can finally book an Uber and go home to change into something that isn’t squeezing your ribs into new and interesting positions and drink the finest chardonnay Publix had for under ten dollars. Frankie won’t push, won’t judge, you’ve been friends long enough to know that. You’ve seen each other through various highs and lows over the years, he was the first person you called when you got a promotion that you’d worked your ass off for, and when he found out his ex-fiancée was getting married you were the one who picked him up at the bar where he was drowning his sorrows and brought him home to drunkenly cry on your shoulder until he passed out.

If there’s anyone in the world who you can trust with this, it’s him.

“Those last few months with You Know Who,” you start, meaning your ex and not Voldemort despite their many similarities, “we were fighting like all the time. I knew deep down our relationship had become this flaming dumpster fire, but for some stupid reason I kept splashing water on it trying to put it out instead of walking away. And then we had the worst fight ever, and he said…he said-”

You could really do with another shot of tequila for some liquid courage right now. You settle for drinking the last of Frankie’s beer instead while he watches you carefully, tipping the bottle back to get every drop and then setting it down on the coaster with an audible thump.

“-he said I was a frigid bitch in bed and he would have better sex fucking a blow up doll instead of me. That’s what finally did it, I told him we were over. He tried to apologize and begged for another chance, but I just kept hearing it over and over again in my head and I was done. Finally done.”

A muscle ticks in Frankie’s jaw like the countdown clock on a bomb, you can see it even through the scruff of his patchy beard. He glances away for a second and you see his eyes close while he mutters under his breath in Spanish too soft and too fast for you to understand before his gaze snaps back to yours.

“I take it back, he’s not a dickhead,” he says, sounding completely calm. “That’s an insult to actual dickheads. And he’s going to be lucky if he can still run his mouth like that once I’ve knocked out all his teeth.”

Even though he’s ex-military Frankie has never been one for that bullshit macho posturing, which is one of the things you like so much about him. He breaks up bar fights, he doesn’t start them. To see him now, so calm and collected but with such an intense expression and not a hint on his face that he’s kidding or exaggerating, it sends a jolt right through you. His threat to your dickhead of an ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be so sexy, but….

Damn.

You reach out and flick him lightly on the shoulder. “He’s not worth it, and I really don’t want to have to bail your ass out of jail at three in the morning again, Morales.”

“Hey, that was one time!” he protests, adding in a mumble. “And it was Santi’s dumb idea.”

His annoyed pout just makes you laugh, shaking your head at how closely he resembles his namesake when he juts his lower lip out like that. Cutest catfish ever.

“So,” he drawls, after you stop chuckling, “since you didn’t go back to that asshole, thank fuck, then who was the lucky guy tonight? Or unlucky guy, since you ditched him for far better company.”

You shrug, plucking idly at the fabric of your dress. “Just someone I matched with on Tinder. I really wanted to prove Dickface wrong, you know? That I wasn’t uptight and sucked in bed. Swiped right on someone who didn’t have a douchey shirtless mirror selfie in his profile, we met for drinks and everything was going great until a text popped up on his phone while he was showing me a picture of his dog. From his wife.”

Frankie winces. “Seriously?”

The notification lingered on the screen while he frantically tried to swipe it away, not that it would do any good. You were a fast reader, you’d already read the whole thing.

“Yeah. Letting him know there were leftovers waiting for him in the fridge when he got home from work, with a bunch of kiss emojis and a ‘love you babe’. He tried to do the whole, ‘it’s not what you think, we have an open marriage’ bullshit, which sure, I bet he does, so I told him to call his wife and put her on speaker so we could clear that right up.”

“That’s my girl,” Frankie grins.

The praise flows through you like the tequila, remembering how your date went pale as a ghost while you stared him down and his immediate attempts to backpedal.

“Obviously he suddenly had a million reasons why he couldn’t, so I stuck him with the bill and left. Hope he had the decency to tip, at least.”

You let your head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The adrenaline rush you’ve been riding since you told off Dickhead McDickface the Second and stormed out of the bar on your fuck-me heels is wearing off. You got fucked all right, fucked over.

“I really can pick em, can’t I?” you ask, a rhetorical question if ever there was one. “Went from one asshole to another. A married asshole, no less.”

There’s a rustle of movement to your left and a touch to your shoulder that makes you turn your head to see Frankie has shifted closer to you on the couch and tilted his head to match the angle of yours while he brushes his knuckles lightly down your arm.

“Hey, do you remember that woman I went on a first date with last year who brought her fifteen year old brother along? And we were supposed to see Poor Things? Who brings their brother on a date, let alone to a movie with that many sex scenes? Really, really, explicit sex scenes?”

You do remember, thanks to the texts he sent you with increasing speed until he was blowing up your phone and you’d barely finished one before the next popped up.

She brought her kid with her?

Wait, not her kid, it’s her brother.

Dude’s like 13, what the hell?????

Okay, apparently he’s 15 he’s just “short”. THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!!!!!!

WE’RE SEEING POOR THINGS??!!!!!

WHAT?

WTF?????????

PLEASE TELL ME THERE’S ANOTHER MOVIE WITH THE SAME TITLE THAT DOESN’T HAVE NAKED EMMA STONE IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, what do I do?

This is so fucking weird!!!!!!!! SHE BROUGHT HER BROTHER TO THE WEIRD NAKED EMMA STONE SEX MOVIE!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His bewilderment came right through the screen with the increasing number of exclamation points and the memory makes you giggle. You still can’t think of Poor Things as anything except The Weird Naked Emma Stone Sex Movie thanks to Frankie.

“See?” he says with a smile, “I can’t pick ‘em either. First date was over before the movie even started and I’d already spent like fifty bucks on popcorn and drinks. Still follow her brother on Instagram though, he’s cool.”

You laugh even harder at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Dating suuuucks,” you whine in your best angsty teenager impression.

“It sucks so much,” Frankie agrees. “Fuck that married guy. Wait, no, don’t fuck that married guy.”

Now you’re both laughing, so close to each other on the couch that you’re practically touching at the knees. You think to yourself that Frankie has such a nice smile, none of that closed-mouth, thin-lipped thing some guys do as if smiling is an affront to their manhood. Frankie’s smile takes over his whole face, his eyes going squinty and crinkling adorably at the corners.

“I promise I won’t fuck that married guy,” you swear with mock solemnity, crossing your fingers over your heart like a Boy Scout when you finally stop laughing. You let your hand drop to the cushion in between the two of you and close your eyes with a sigh. “Even though I really, really, really need to get laid.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth you freeze, scarcely daring to breathe even as you’re sure you hear a sharp inhale from Frankie at the unguarded confession. He’s so close to you on the couch. So close.

When you gather the courage to open your eyes and meet his dark gaze the air around you has changed, heavy with the weight of what you just said. Neither one of you moves to put a platonic distance back between you like so many other evenings on this couch when you get too close, sharing pizza and drinks and conversation for hours.

Maybe it wasn’t such an accident that you ended up here, with him, tonight.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asks in a voice so low and thick with promise that it makes your stomach flip and a sharp throb hits you even lower down.

“Anything?” you repeat, your own voice higher than normal. Is he really offering that?

Frankie picks up your hand from where it lays on the couch, lifting it and keeping your eyes locked while he raises it to his mouth and brushes a slow, deliberate kiss along the back that makes you shiver as every last nerve ending rises to attention and begs for more.

“Anything,” he murmurs against your skin. “Say the word.”

His large thumb strokes over the fluttering pulse in your wrist, back and forth, back and forth, while his heavy-lidded eyes stare into yours.

You can’t say you’ve never thought about it, because you definitely have. Frankie’s stupidly attractive, with those thick curls that always escape out from under his baseball caps and his Roman coin profile. But when you first met he was still with his ex, and then he was single but you weren’t, the timing never quite working out for anything between you except friendship and nothing else. Hell, by now he’s pretty much your best friend, the one you would call if you needed to bury a body knowing he’d bring the shovel. There’s no one else you trust as much as Frankie Morales, and there’s no one else you want as much as you want him, right here, right now.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, saying the words you always wanted to say to him.

He shuffles closer, his other hand sliding behind your neck as he brings your lips together. It’s a little clumsy at first, your nose bumping his before he fits his mouth to yours. You feel his fingers press to the nape of your neck and the brush of his knee against your while he kisses you carefully, so soft and sweet and gentle.

At first.

Heat washes over you and it’s all because of Frankie, his kiss turning hot and hungry and demanding. You gasp into his mouth and kiss him back just as eagerly, hands fisting in his T-shirt to pull him closer. He makes a low noise in the back of his throat that you can practically feel, a sexy cross between a groan and a grunt, and pulls away from your mouth far too soon. But before you can protest the loss with more than a pout and pull him back, he’s dusting more kisses under the hinge of your jaw and along your neck, mapping a hot trail down the wide swath of bare skin your dress reveals between your breasts and nuzzling his face right into your cleavage. His hands go to your hips, bunching the fabric and pulling it up impatiently to your waist as he moves even lower. Everything happens so fast that it makes your head spin far more than the tequila and you lean back on the couch for support with your chest heaving and groping for any part of him you can reach. Frankie kneels on the floor, pulling your new underwear off as he goes and you lift your hips to help with anticipation pooling low in your stomach at the realization of what he’s planning to do.

He spreads your thighs apart and looks down between them at where you’re now completely bare and practically dripping with a rush of arousal. His gaze is dark, hungry, a look like nothing you’ve ever seen before on his face replacing his usual easygoing expression.

“She’s fucking gorgeous,” he says in that low voice, staring straight at your pussy. “All pink and perfect and needy for some attention, isn’t she? Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take very good care of her.”

The breath catches in your throat at that, more than a little shocked by the filthy promise in his words. No man you’ve ever been with has ever said anything remotely like that. Your nipples are firm points against your dress and you must be glistening with how wet you already are. Frankie kisses your inner thigh and mumbles, “lie back a little more for me,” while pulling gently on your hips to position you the way he wants. You’re not about to refuse him anything at this point and you slide lower, feeling your dress ride up even more as you do. While you’re not fully naked yet you feel so exposed, lying with your legs wide open on the same couch where you’ve watched so many bad movies and argued over words while playing Scrabble, because military acronyms don’t fucking count, Catfish! Now he’s nestled between your bare thighs with his wide shoulders wedging them apart and you wonder dimly why you spent all that time not doing this, his insanely kissable mouth so close to your pussy that you can feel his warm breath when he exhales. It makes you tremble with anticipation and Frankie looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken question behind them. You nod, answering without words. You want this.

He licks you, a slow, broad swipe with the flat of his tongue that has your head falling back and your legs spreading shamelessly wider. Then he does it again, and again, and again, burying his face so deep that you wonder vaguely how he’s even managing to breathe. He doesn’t come up for air anytime soon, holding you firm against his mouth with his hands wrapped around your thighs and seeking out every last spot that makes you writhe and grind against him with moans and cries that you can’t hold back spilling from your lips. It’s loud, both the noises you make and the wet sound of him eating you out like you’re a feast and he’s been starved for days. Frankie makes his tongue a firm point and thrusts it inside you while keeping you spread, the feeling so intimate and erotic that your clit throbs and you absently cup a breast to ease the ache in your stiff nipple. He fucks you with his tongue a few times before he gives you another one of those long, slow licks that go the full length from bottom to top and he zeroes in on your needy clit as if he had a map leading him right to it. You feel his lips close around the swollen bud with a hard suck that has you squeezing your breast with one hand and sinking the other into his messy curls.

“Oh fuck,” you manage to gasp, “Frankie, it’s so good. So good.”

He finally pulls back long enough to rasp, “I want you to come all over my face, baby,” before diving back in. You feel the prod of a thick finger against your dripping entrance, slipping in easily and soon it’s moving in tandem with the flick of his tongue over your clit. The dual sensation makes you whimper, tugging on his hair to urge him closer and rocking your hips. Another finger joins the first, stretching you even more and pressing along your velvety inner walls until he suddenly curls them and hits that spot, the one you almost forgot was there. He strokes it and it’s nothing but bone-melting, toe-curling pleasure that builds and builds relentlessly under your skin until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

You cry out, your climax hitting with the force of a tidal wave and crashing over you. Frankie groans, a low rumble coming from his position between your legs as he clearly feels it in the squeeze around his fingers and the rush of more hot arousal that makes you even wetter and slicker. He rubs it all over his face just like he wanted, his fingers pumping in a lazy rhythm in and out of you until it’s finally over and you’re left limp and boneless on his couch with your dress bunched to your waist and one strap hanging off your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you ended up like this, from knocking on his door ready to swear off men forever less than an hour ago to half-naked and panting from the best orgasm you’ve had since….ever. When you manage to lift your head from the cushion to look at him his expression is just as dazed as yours must be even as his lips gleam and his cheeks and chin are damp with you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his chest heaving under his T-shirt like he just ran a marathon. “Fuck, are you okay? Was that okay?”

Even with the AC blasting there’s still not enough air in the room, it takes you a moment to find some so you can answer him. “Yeah….yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Okay is an understatement, you don’t even smoke and yet you’re ready for a cigarette now. You don’t even make any move to tug your dress down and cover yourself, one leg still loosely propped on Frankie’s shoulder. He rubs a soothing hand on your thigh and carefully dislodges it so he can stand up, revealing the prominent bulge in his jeans that’s now perfectly at your eye level. Your pussy clenches and throbs at the sight, he got that hard just from going down on you? He follows your gaze and smirks a little when he sees where you’re looking, brushing his hand against his fly.

“All for you, baby,” he says, and reaches to pull you to your feet. “Not on the couch though. Bedroom. I want you in my bed.”

Bed, couch, floor, you really don’t care and you’re already fumbling with his belt buckle and tugging his T-shirt out of his jeans. You drag your nails along the sensitive skin of his stomach right above his waistband and relish the way it makes him shudder, the muscles contracting under your touch. When you look up again he immediately swoops down and kisses you, this time with the taste of you still clinging to his lips and your scent all over his face. It’s raw and messy, tongues and teeth and the little sound of triumph you make when you finally get his belt open. You feel him smile against your mouth while he starts to walk backwards and you have to follow him to work on your next goal, getting his T-shirt off. He’s leading you towards his bedroom, and thank God his house is a bungalow so you don’t have to waste time going up stairs. All that’s between the two of you and his bed is a hallway, and it might as well be one of those funhouse corridors at the county fair with the way you’re both bumping against the walls and tripping over your own feet trying to navigate it. Frankie unabashedly gropes your ass with those large hands of his while he kisses you, not paying attention to where he’s going and knocking pictures on the wall askew with his shoulders. You keep tugging and pulling at his T-shirt, trying to get it off and thwarted by the fact that he won’t let go of your butt long enough to lift his arms.

“Frankie,” you whine against his mouth, shoving fistfuls of cotton up his back, “off!”

He finally pulls back and yanks the shirt over his head with enough force that you’re sure he just completely stretched out the neck, tossing it aside without bothering to see where it lands. The warm expanse of his broad chest presses against you almost immediately, with what feels like miles and miles of bare skin under your exploring hands. His lips fasten to your neck and you tilt your head back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. You’ll have to cover it before work on Monday, but, fuck it. That’s what concealer is for. If he wants to cover you in hickies like you’re teenagers having their first makeout session, you’ll let him. You’ll let him do whatever he wants at this point.

“Hang on.”

“It’s the only warning you get before he hauls you up with his hands under your thighs, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carries you the last few steps into the bedroom and closes the door with a kick of his foot that makes it slam shut. The sound makes you start before you grin down at him.

“Impatient, much?”

“To have you in my bed at last?” he says, matching your grin with his own goofy smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You can take the man out of the military but you can’t take the military out of the man, Frankie’s bed is made with such sharp precision that it seems a shame to mess it up.

Almost.

The mattress dips when he sets you down, knocking a pillow aside and the duvet no longer perfectly crisp at the edges. You go up on your knees while he stands next to the bed, reaching for where his belt hangs open and using it to tug him closer. It doesn’t take much work to pop open the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down, the sound of the metal teeth parting shockingly loud against the quiet of the room. You reach a hand in and feel the heat of his skin even through the soft material of his underwear, while he stands as still as a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest. He lets you touch and explore and you trace the very long and thick outline of his erection as it twitches and presses eagerly against your hand. Fuck, Frankie is big. The kind of big that’s going to stretch you so deliciously. The kind of big that you’re going to feel the day after. Maybe even longer.

And it’s all yours tonight.

His jeans are quickly joined on the floor by your dress, as you go from bodycon to full frontal. You might have been nervous about finally getting completely naked, if it wasn’t for the unexpected sight of the pattern on his boxer-briefs.

“Frankie,” you laugh, “you actually have fish themed underwear?”

Sure enough, there’s several different types of fish swimming around on the fabric, including his whiskered namesake. When you look back up from the cartoon catfish smiling jauntily across his groin you can see that his ears have gone bright red in embarrassment.

“It was a gag gift from the guys,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes, “they’re really comfortable, and well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to take my pants off in front of anyone tonight, you know.”

You rest your hands on the waistband and trace a nail along the bare skin just above, trying and failing to stifle the urge to giggle.

“Wanna put your pants back on then?” you ask, teasing the sensitive spot below his navel.

“Fuck no.”

His lips crash back down on yours again, his arms circling your waist. The Finding Nemo joke you were about to make is immediately forgotten as you blindly peel the boxers off, letting the school of fish puddle at his feet and immediately get kicked away. You wrap a hand around his cock, so long and thick that it makes you ache with the thought of having it inside you. God, you need this. You need him.

Frankie lets out a deep groan against your mouth when you start to stroke, dragging your hand up and down the length of him from root to tip and back again. You rub your thumb over the sensitive head and twist your fingers under the crown, teasing out all the sensitive spots and figuring out what he likes. A hard grip, bordering on rough, has his chest heaving and his hips jerking while his cock throbs in your hand.

“Jesus Christ,” he bites out. “Like that, baby, just like that.”

The sheer unguarded pleasure on his face gives you everything you wanted tonight with your dress and the heels and the lacy underwear. You feel sexy. Desired. Powerful. Able to bring a man to his knees with your touch. Literally, Frankie’s legs start to buckle and he has to brace himself against the bed to stay upright. You keep stroking him until he finally pulls your hand away gently and kisses your open palm before joining you on the bed. He practically jumps onto it in his eagerness, making you bounce with the movement.

“Condom?” he asks, twisting towards his nightstand, “I have some-“

“I’m good,” you interrupt. You want to feel him inside you without that barrier. “I’m on the pill.”

His arm drops from where he was reaching for the drawer. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all month.”

You never would have fucked your Tinder date without a condom, but this is Frankie. Your Frankie. You trust him. He rolls on top of you and your trust only grows when he hesitates, looking down into your eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure about this? We can always stop.”

He pushes a lock of hair out of your face with a gentle touch and you know without a doubt that if you wanted to stop he would without complaint even though he hasn’t come yet. You run your hands up his arms and feel the tension in his biceps, the strain of holding himself back. He’s braced above you, his hair a complete mess, gorgeously naked and hard as a rock, and you are one hundred percent sure about this.

“I don’t wanna stop.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, a perfect fit between your thighs. Frankie angles his hips while he leans down for another kiss and you feel the hot slide of his cock as he finds your entrance with that pilot’s accuracy of his, then the press of the blunt head as he starts to push inside. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to the stretch and burn. And it does burn, in the very best way. It’s been months since you’ve had sex, and far longer since you’ve had good sex, your frustration had built to a fever pitch under your skin and Frankie just lit a match. You both feel it when you open for him fully, that final slide is smooth and easy and he buries himself right to the hilt.

“Fuuuck,” he bites out. “Took me so fucking good, perfect fucking pussy.”

His dick is pretty damn perfect too, in your opinion, filling you up and creating the most delicious friction when he starts to move. You pull his head down for another kiss before he buries his face in your neck and rocks his hips into yours, gradually building the rhythm while you run your hands along his back and feel the muscles ripple and flex with each thrust. It’s everything you needed and more, the thick drag of him inside you has you arching your back and crying out and it only seems to spur him on even more. He plants a knee on the bed and lifts your leg, shifting his hips so that he can go even deeper. You clutch helplessly at his sheets when the tip of his cock finds your sweet spot and make a noise you don’t even recognize, a throaty moan pulls from your throat while your toes curl and your pussy throbs.

“Frankie,” you manage to gasp, clutching both his shoulders and gripping him even tighter from the inside, “oh god, there! Right there!”

“That’s it baby,” he murmurs into your skin. “Come all over my cock.”

He leans over you, thrusting hard and balancing on one hand to reach down with the other so he can work your swollen clit. The first swipe of his fingers on the sensitive bud sends a jolt through your entire body that melts into sheer unadulterated pleasure. With a few more you’re teetering right on the edge, and then Frankie grinds especially deep on his next thrust and presses down hard with his thumb. It grips you and doesn’t let go, your second climax of the night is even stronger than the first and has you squeezing him as if you’re trying to drag him even further inside, contracting along the length of his cock while he grits his teeth and fucks you through it. When the aftershocks finally stop and you relax back into the mattress with a sigh Frankie pulls out, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips and laying down next to you.

It takes you a few moments in your post-orgasmic haze to notice that he’s still hard, his cock is practically flush to his stomach and glistening with your arousal.

“You didn’t?” you ask, confused as you glance down.

He follows your gaze with a strangely bashful look. “Not yet. I want…I want you to ride me.”

That sends another hot rush right between your legs, suddenly wanting it desperately too. You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to walk afterwards, especially not in those stupid heels, but it’s going to be so fucking worth it.

Frankie stretches out fully on the bed, those long legs and broad shoulders taking up so much space on it. Luckily there’s more than enough room for you right there on his lap. You swing a leg over, hands pressing down on his chest for balance while he looks up at you with that crooked grin he always gets when he’s especially pleased about something. A sinful roll of your hips along his thick erection only makes his smile wider when he feels how wet you still are.

“Take me in,” he begs shamelessly, hips moving under you and hands roaming over your skin. “Please, baby.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

It’s another delicious stretch, sliding down his thick erection and feeling him rub you in all sorts of interesting new ways from this angle. Once you’re seated fully you give yourself a moment before you start to move, his heart racing under your palm and his cock held snug and warm deep inside you.

Frankie’s done so much already for you tonight, this is for him. You want to give him just as much pleasure as he gave you, make it just as good for him when you start to roll your hips again to take him in again and again and again. His hands find your thighs and flex against them while he watches with a rapt expression, eyes glued to where you’re joined before looking up to take in the full sight of you riding him just as he wanted.

“Good?” you ask, gasping the word out.

“So fucking good,” he groans. His hips lift under you right as you go down on the next stroke and it’s even better, the way you just fit. You use muscles you didn’t even know you had, increasing your pace and riding him hard. The cords on his neck pop when he throws his head back against the pillow, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each exhale of breath. He has to be close, you can sense it in the increasingly desperate noises he makes and the way his fingers dig into your skin as he holds you steady on top of him. Your breasts bounce and your thighs are burning with the effort of maintaining the rhythm but you don’t stop, can’t stop, you need Frankie to fall apart just like he’s done for you twice already. You want to see the look on his face and hear the noises he makes when he comes, adding a circle of your hips that makes his eyes close and his body jerk under you. He feels even harder now, and your legs aren’t the only thing that’s burning. Frankie is hitting every sweet spot inside of you, filling you so deep and full that the familiar prickle and spark is starting again. You weren’t expecting to come for a third time, but then again you weren’t expecting anything else that happened tonight and it’s definitely happening. Frankie thrusts up with a growl, yanking you down on him with the same motion and holding you there while you feel him pulse hot and he lets out a long, loud moan like no other noise he’s made all night. The sound and the sensation make you molten, almost there and even deep in the throes of his own pleasure he reaches for your clit and gives it a pinch that’s all you need to fall over the edge with him. With your hands braced on his chest you throw your head back and let it wash over you while you keep rolling your hips to draw out more and more of those gorgeous sounds out of him until he finally starts to soften. You collapse in a heap on his chest and his arms immediately wrap around you, lips brushing against the top of your head while you bury your face against his sweaty chest and your heartbeats slowly go back to normal.

It’s nice.

It’s more than nice.

You could get used to it.

You can’t. You shouldn’t. You’re just friends.

Friends who just fucked rather spectacularly.

Fuck.

After a few moments you slide off of him to lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling instead of at him. Now things are going to be all weird and awkward and as amazing as the sex was, it wasn’t worth the inevitable end of your friendship. Silence stretches between you and creates more and more space in its wake.

“There’s probably Ubers available now,” you say at last, keeping your gaze away from his face so you don’t see his expression shift from lover to stranger. By the time the driver gets here you’ll have your dress back on and your feet shoved into your shoes and you and Frankie can start pretending this never happened. Maybe that will work.

There’s a snort from next to you. “Yeah. That’s not happening, I’m driving you home tomorrow. After we sleep. And shower. And stop at that diner on 53rd cause I’m gonna need one of those giant lumberjack breakfasts to recover from this.”

You feel yourself flush a bit, as ridiculous as it is considering you’re naked in his bed with “this” still sticky on your inner thighs.

“I’m not going to a diner in that dress,” you say, still looking at the ceiling and adding silently, “or those shoes that could double as torture devices.”

“So you wear one of my T-shirts or something,” Frankie’s voice trails away into a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, “we’ll figure it out in the morning. Fuck, you really did a number on me.”

Yawning is contagious, you can feel one building and you’re suddenly on the verge of falling asleep thanks to the number he did on you and the incredibly comfortable bed that you never want to leave. Best sex you’ve had in….ever, all thanks to Frankie. But you don’t give in to the urge to just close your eyes and go to sleep, as tempting as it is, turning your head to look at your best friend instead and finding him looking back at you in the dark.

He’s still Frankie. You’re still you.

You’re still friends.

“Frankie? Will we figure…this out in the morning?”

His fingers lace with yours under the blankets and he gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah. We will, baby, I promise.”

When you fall asleep you’re on your side with Frankie plastered to your bare back, his arm firm around your waist like he’s afraid you might try to sneak away in the middle of the night. The thought had occurred to you, to escape all the morning after awkwardness. Frankie isn’t just a hookup or a one-night stand though, he means so much more to you than that. So you lay your hand over his and relax into his embrace with a sigh, wondering as you drift off if he’ll let you borrow his prized vintage AC/DC T-shirt to wear home…..

….and if he’d be up for another round in the shower in the morning.

The answer to both turns out to be a resounding yes.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #my fic

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ninelieswithme · 4 months ago

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*

𝙰 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ sʟᴀsʜᴇʀ ʟᴇᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✩ ᴛᴡ = sᴍᴜᴛ, ɴsꜰᴡ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ sᴇx, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

✩ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ - ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴏɴ, ᴀ ɢᴜʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴀss ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴜɴɪ/ᴄᴏʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴊᴏɪɴᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴏ ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟʏ, ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ, ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀʀᴀʜ

☆ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ - ʜᴀʏʏʏ sᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪs ɪsɴᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴇʀᴍ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴇᴇᴋ.. ᴀʟsᴏ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ sɴᴀᴄᴋ’s.. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ sɴᴀᴄᴋ 😏.. 😭

⁂ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴇ/ᴄ ᴍᴇᴀɴ? ᴇ/ᴄ ᴍᴇᴀɴ’s ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ!

✪ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs s/ᴄ ᴍᴇᴀɴ? s/ᴄ ᴍᴇᴀɴ’s sᴋɪɴ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ!

★ sʟᴀsʜᴇʀ x sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀ ᴀᴜ - 3.8k ᴡᴏʀᴅs

𖤐 ᴋɪɴᴋ’s - ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏɴᴇ - ʟɪɴᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ʟɪsᴛ - ʜᴇʀᴇ

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉

Songs so him and her (you)..

The air hung thick with the scent of cheap beer and teenage drama.

You adjusted the borrowed dress you wore for the special day, its floral pattern clashing violently with the grunge aesthetic of Sarah's house.

The music pulsed a throbbing beat that echoed through the home, the tension building in your chest.

The lights ecstatic and frantic, eyes dilated from the alcohol in your system.

It was your 21st birthday today, a milestone you won’t forget.

But the anticipation had morphed into something darker, a fear-tinged dread.

It was all Sarah's fault.

Sarah, the self-proclaimed queen bee of the group you were in. Had been hostile to poor Leon from the start, thinking he was a freak that should’ve stayed in the gutter, where he belonged..

Leon, a timid soul.. well that’s what you thought.. you never knew what befriending him led you to- ahem..

Who never really fit in, with eyes as blue as the tropics. His hair a dusty gold.

You met him in the beginning of this year of college/university, his books flying out of his hands making the class banter and laugh.

Great..

Only keeping his head down, dropping to the group scrabbling for his books, till you walked over, helping grab some of the scattered books.

His blue eyes bearing into yours.

He didn’t stop staring, not for a second till he had to-

“..sigh, continue chapter 43!”

The professor yelled, instinctively you broke eye contact with Leon.. amazing giving him his books with a trademark smile.

Then standing to your full height, leaving to take your seat next to your friends.

Leon snarled to himself his hair hiding it, then standing, books in hand..

Stupid teacher..

With that he walked past the rows of people, their whispers and stares annoying him further..

Why are they staring.. what are you fucking looking at.. keep staring and I’ll SLIT YOUR FUCKING-

He only stared down enduring their judgement, sitting in the far corner, his piercing ice eyes staring into your e/c eye’s.

Then turning his head, eyes staring into the professor.

While your eyes stayed fixed onto the blondette.

In that moment you vouched to include him, seeing the pit of loneliness within his eye’s settling into the emptiness till you..

The class was soon dismissed, discarding your so called friends trotting over to Leon.

Without a thought you asked him to hang out with your group of friends with a crooked smile.

He did accept your proposal, with an unrelenting disgust for their loud, chaotic acts with the group.

You laughed gently taking hold of his sleeve his books long forgotten, he could feel his heart lurch into his throat.

Heat pooling his face with a light flush, while heat pooled between his legs.

God you were so cute..so pretty..so perfect…

God your just so perfect

As he throbbed lightly while you dragged him to your friends finally being pulled out of his sex filled daze.

“T-This is umm..” SHIT YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS N- “Leon”

He interrupted saving you from total embarrassment.

“Yea Leon, he should join our g-group”

Sarah just stared at the both of you before giving Leon a snide smirk.

“Fine.. like a give a shit”

That shocked Leon, only staring into her see her flinch lightly before turning her concentration onto the door.

She snorted walking away, the rest of the group following.

Fucking pig

Leon thought with a growl..

This was only the beginning.. of the end.

You quickly gashed after her Leon following at a lot slower pace, like he would run after some entitled bitch.

Sarah’s distain towards Leon only grew stronger, Sarah's snide remarks, the pointed glances, the exclusion from inside jokes.

Only made Leon annoyed, and you stressed..

He couldn’t have his poor baby stressed, so he tried his best finding every reason to stay home or away from your cunty friends and just you.

His perfect baby!

It wasn’t hard not attending much of the college/university, well when they found out he was head of his classes at least.

While gaining extra points for his lack of parents, plus his depression and schizophrenia medication.

It wasn’t a challenge not going but he hated the way you were treated.

The way Sarah trampled all over you, and you just took it!!

Baby no!! don’t be a fucking doormat!

Every whisper and thought was filled with shredding Sarah open with a smouldering hot blade, seeing the crimson cover him fully, the feeling of her body shaking to a halt, like cleansing his soul from gum under his shoe.

If the whispers and figures weren’t asking him to slash Sarah’s throat till her head lolled to the ground they were about you :)

About touching you, feeling you, cuddling you.. or sometimes.. shoving his drooling tip between your plush thighs, feeling his pre splatter and lube up your thighs while he dry fucked his cock around your thighs like a dog on heat.

While he told you about his day, about that he took his meds because you asked him so nicely while you were the only reason keeping him from slashing his bosses throat today <3

While he spoke about what you two were going to name your first born baby, or about how cute your body would look with his baby growing in your cute womb.

God his cock always grew firm every time he thought about you, just you!

Anyways!!

It escalated quickly..

Turning into deliberate attempts to humiliate Leon, to drive him away.

To deliberately turn him insane

BABY HES ALREADY THERE

Your loyalty unwavering as you defended him with all you had..

God he loved you..

He’ll give you a extra baby for that~ ;D

He couldn’t wait to grab that ugly head of Sarah’s and slit that throat till she gargled on her own filthy blood.

But the pressure was immense.

Sarah, with her sharp tongue and forceful charm, had turned the group of friends you were once so close with against you.

They started to echo Sarah's disdain like a whisper.

Your friends turned into enemies, their words laced with venom, their laughter cruel and mocking.

The birthday party within Sarah’s home once a celebration, had become a battleground.

"This is the last time, Y/N," Sarah hissed shoving you harder against the wall, her voice venomous.

Her hands on your shoulders as she snarled

All of her goons huddled in the cramped bathroom with the two of you.

You couldn’t help feeling like crying, tears beading in the corners of your eyes.

"You're either with us or against us. And if you choose that freak, it's going to be a lot worse than a few snide comments."

Sarah's words, fuelled by alcohol and malice, pierced straight through your sore heart.

Your lips quivered, head turning away, tears stinging your already glistened eyes, without a second thought you pushed past Sarah off of you and ran past the girls, out of the bathroom, some of them laughing as you retreated to the backyard patio.

Brushing past the hoards of people and loud music that blared in Sarah’s house.

Stumbling onto one of the outdoor pool couches, face hidden in some of the pillows muffling your cry’s.

The fire crisp near you while some adults stared down at you like a child speaking with their friends, alcohol in hand.

Tears finally falling, you didn’t want to make a choice to choose Leon or your childhood friends.. why.. why WHY!?!

All while Leon watched from within the house.

His eyes cold..

Finally.

FUCKING FINALLY.

As you sniffled and cried into the beach pillows, the rays of stars on your skin.

While Leon stalked after Sarah and her goons, laughing about their victory.

More like crying over spilled milk..

He stepped closer to me instinctively Sarah snarled at Leon.

Finally Leon returned the favour sending off a more aggressive snarl.

Sarahs snarl faltered some of her goons breaking off from the growing confrontation..

Without a thought he turned back..

Later..I’ll kill this bitch later

He thought treading away, leaving Sarah shocked and confused.

The music dialling down from the fleeting people, leaving no trace except alcohol.

50 guests turned to 20 then 7..

To 3..

Finally when you had calmed down, music gone, Sarah’s house bare.

You stood up, your face puffed from tears.

Sighing heavily as your weakly treaded back into the home.

You made your choice..

Leon had to go..

Your heart ached, you’ve grown to care for Leon so deeply… but your friends were all you had, family wasn’t a thing.

More tears pricked at your face

Im so sorry Leon..

Turning your face forwards again stepping deeper into the euphoric aesthetics of the home.

Face sour through the smudged makeup.

When you had returned, makeup ruined, the music was still playing .. but there was a chilling silence in the air.

Sarah was gone, so were your ex friends.

You searched frantically for them, calling out their names, only to be greeted by empty silence.

e/c eyes scanning the home.

Chills ran down your spine, you felt like you were being watched

While in your frantic search your eyes dismiss the blood, the disorganised items, the quiet pleas for help.

Your shoes sliding on the ground, making you lose balance falling on your ass to look down.. seeing a body..

Someone’s body..

Sarah..

You stumbled upon the scene, terror dripping your face, as more tears ran down your face.

Blood covering your shoes, only gulping thickly on air.

Sarah laid unmoving blood spilling, eyes bulging like a deer in headlights.

Blood oozing her wounds, some un fallen tears beading in the corners of her glossy eyes.

Lips parted the gloss smudged, some blood collected in her mouth.

Her eyes as lifeless as her body, pain evident in her body, the blade still stuck in the centre of her chest, the wound agape, blood spilling out of it soaking her clothes.

“Y-Y/-…”

She said weakly finally shaking you from your daze.. scrambling to your feet kneeling down to Sarah..

“Y-Yes Sarah.. I-i-I’m gonna go get help-“ “N-No..” she interrupted

“But…” “it’s t-to lat..e” she said over your pea, blood spewing from her mouth, some blood being collected onto your hands while you held her head, tears streaming you face.

“I-I’m sorry Y-..N” she said weakly her body going limp her head kissing its grip, eyes dilating.

You stayed with her tears falling your face.. you knew Sarah was a total ass.. but she was one of your only friends you had.

She cared about you deeply.. though she had a very unique way of showing it..

Well that’s what you thought..

His poor baby, so manipulated by that.. that.. that witch.

With a bleeding heart you stood up from your lifeless friend’s corpse, tears welling in you red eyes, slowly making your way to the phone to call the police.

To do the right thing..

To only be stopped mid way something,.

No someone..

A broad chest slammed into you face, stumbling back, you say a string of apologies.

Eyes focused on the ground apologising for the blood seeping into his tank top.

“Baby dont apologise, red always did look good on me~”

You shivered.. L-Leon.

You eyes darted up seeing the dusty blonde.

His outfit seemed off.. different.. more

Frantic...

Why is there blood on his cheek..

Wait he wasn’t wearing that shirt.. O-Or that jacket

Why did he call me baby??

“Leon?”

He only hummed with a dorky smile.

Why would he smile at a time like this..

Whatever, maybe sarah was right, he can be a bit weird sometimes..especially that staring..

You shook your head, again walking past leon to call the police.

Then feeling a hand wrap around your wrist pulling you back.

The home phone just out of reach.

You turned to face Leon, still smiling like a love sick puppy.

“Leon, I need to call the police”

His face turned sour, eyes turned cold.

"No. You're not."

He growled, sending shivers down your spine immediately.. you knew

The smile..

The blood..

Then dismissing attitude to Sarah’s death..

He’s the killer.

“She deserved it.. you know that right dearest?”

The last part came out more sweet than sour, while he gave you pleading eyes.

You stepped back your breath hitching while you looked for a way out of this mess.

“Y-You kil-“

“Yes I did..”

He interrupted smiling as if he didn’t do such a thing..

He just killed someone for you.. How sweet

But now you wanted to go and snitch on him?

For what?? Saying a small sorry

Please

He didn't plan on you ever siding with that.. that thing.. so he'd need to convince other wise.

Tears beaded your eyes.. you got played, you let a sociopath into the group and got Sarah killed..

Your heart was torn to shreds.

You should call the police,

Get Leon arrested.. but Leon’s all you have..

Your friends are gone, family isn’t an option..

God why..

“Leon why..”

You said your voice breaking tears falling for your face.

“Why do you think silly”

He cooed as if your friends blood was on his dirty hands, as he leaned into you boxing you in, with a coy smile.

You flinched while Leon brushed hair out of you face.

Then leaning into you, then speaking into the shell of your ear.

"I'm sick and tired of them treating you badly. You're far too sweet and stupid to know how to deal with it, so I did for you baby!”

He smiled like a child on Christmas.

He really didn’t know what he did was wrong

Did he..

Your pain turned fury, yelling at him.

“So you fucking killed someone”

Leon didn’t like that..

His cold demeanour returning, his face hardening.

His hand around your wrist crushing down enough to bruise.

You yelped, more tears dropping your face.

“Leon that hurt really”

He only stayed stoned face then faking a smile.

“Whattt, just treating you like my heart right now baby, stop crushing it”

He spat, his hold still painful.

Your eyes glassy while looking around the home, looking for a way out.

“No need baby~ it’s just you and me”

Still looking for a way out, staring around, the music still playing giving you a worse migraine.

“Eyes on me”

He hissed letting go of your clearly swollen wrist grabbing your chin roughly, your e/c eyes meeting the cold icy ones of Leon

Earning Leon another yelp.

Looks like you’re finding your place slowly but surely.

You looked at him flinching at his breaths, legs buckling back and forth barely keeping you up right

“What scared, of me.. huh scared of the man of your dreams, for saving you”

He laughed at the last part finding it very annoyingly funny that you’re cowering to your- well what he thought your saviour.

“Y-you didn’t save me, you played me?!”

You yelled back..

Awww when he thought you were learning you just had to run that dirty mouth of yours..

Without a thought his hold on your chin turned hostile, turning to a hold on your throat.

Eyes bulging, hand clawing at his much bigger one.

While you gasped and heaved for air some tears dropping from your ruined face

“I think your deserve a good lesson on respect baby.. then being a entitled bitch~”

He cooed coldly forcing a happy facade while all he wanted to do was spank that ungrateful ass of yours.

Here you were, pinned to Sarah’s bed, caged in by Leon, with no way out~

Moans escaping your lips, Leon’s lips ravaging your body.

The heat between your legs pooling. Feeling yourself clench around nothing.

Kissing up your neck smearing the blood on his check onto your collarbone. Where many other red spots laid form Leon’s so called love.

Quickly he pulled up and off your floral dress, then your bra, leaving you bare.

The cold air hitting your areolas

Eyes going large, you cover yourself with your hands.

Hiding your puckered nipples.

Only to feel a lot more callous pair of hands rip them away.

You breasts bare.

“Baby don’t hide from me~ I love you”

He said with a genuine smile, gently looking at your pretty breasts..

How’d I get so lucky.

Such perfect, hair, face, smile, body, attitude.. skin,

Oh so perfect

“So perfect”

His lips making contact with your smooth skin, the dampness of your panties beading..

“L-Leon~”

You said in gasped breaths, the feverish blush growing.

You hand snaking down while Leon sucked and nipped at your skin

Your hand coming to a halt..

Feeling Leon’s hard on through his jeans, grind against your hand, making him whine every so often.

Feeling it twitch for the lack of stimulation.

Your hand making smooth motions while Leon licked at you all over, leaving marks at his wake.

Earning you whimpers from the blondette while he spoke.

“M’been wishing this for so long”

He groaned then halting..

“Oh!”

“Where’s my manners, you need a punishment still!”

He smiled happily, your blood running cold while Leon flipped you onto your stomach.

Leon’s gaze following down your stunning body his eyes making contact with your pink pants, the word slut embodied onto them.

“Fuckkk.. you slut~”

He hissed pushing his clothed cock between you ass grinding and humping against your plush ass for a few minutes.

Only stopping himself when he felt like his cock wanting more.

Landing a hard hit onto your ass, with another coming after the other.

Making your eyes bead with tears, though the knot in your stomach grew.

So did the dampness of your panties grew, mind growing more foggy.

Feeling Leon strike your pretty ass over and over again, the dampness grew.

You’re hazy growing by the minute, nipples puckering.

While so did Leon’s occasional grinding.

“Are you sorry baby?”

He asked spanking your ass again, tears threatening to fall.

“Baby?~”

He snarled slapping your ass harder leaving an imprint..

You yelped the heat of the slap coursing through you, landing at your clit.

“Y-Yes Leon”

You said tears finally falling, the feeling of hot air on your red ass sending shivers.

He smirked slapping your jelly ass again.

What does this man want from me?!?

You thought eyes lidded and aching.

“It’s daddy”

He said planting a kiss onto your temple, then coldly slapping you again, tears coming down while he peppered the side of you face in tender kisses.

“Sayyy it~~”

He hissed, hand raised to spank your reddened rear again.

“Y-Yes daddy”

You choked out, tears clouding your vision.

“What are you sorry for??”

He asked coldly though keeping his hand raised, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“M-M sorry for not being grateful”

You sobbed, Leon’s demeanour changed

Turning more..

Tender.

“Good girl, I forgive you”

He said flipping you back on your back.

“Lemme say sorry”

He kissed you, his tongue dancing with yours, a large hand cupping your heat.

Fingers playing with the thin fabric.

Making you moan, back arching lightly.

“L-Leon~”

He chuckled stopping his motions on your damp pussy.

“Uh uh uh~ daddy~”

You whine in the loss, bucking your hips into his digets.

“Naughty girl.. m’but I can’t stay mad at you~~”

He said pushing them into your plush folds, deviding them through the fabric.

Nipples hardening, grinding your wet heat against his fingers.

The wetness collecting lightly on Leon’s fingers.

Without much to waste Leon grabbed the damp spot on your underwear, slipping them off of your silky s/c skin.

Goose bumps littering you thighs and arms while you gasped out on Leon’s boldness.

Feverish blush covering your face.

The dusty blonde tampered with his belt unbuckling it, throwing it to the side while pulling down his pants.

Cock springing out of its thin confines, the tip glistened with clear pre.

He was a light hot pink, with a cute swollen tip, with little to no hair down at his v line to the base of his twitching cock.

He moaned while you stared at his man hood, pre oozing at the tip.

Bitting his lower lip.

God baby keep staring at me like that, m’gonna cum..

He thought shuffling closer to you, kissing your neck passionately, nipping at you.

Pulling his fingers from your folds.

Hands collecting at your knees spreading your glistening folds.

Legs pushing past your calf’s.

With a smooth motion Leon sunk his cock deep into your tight walls.

Hooking it deep inside your tight pussy, his cock bulging out of your womb.

M’gonna breed this greed thing

He set a fast pace, hand locked on your thigh. squeezing every so often.

His cock hitting your gummy walls where you’ve craved for so long.

Tears beaded your eyes, while Leon bit at your neck, growling.

“Nobody’s been in this deep I see~”

He said looking at your flush and hazed state.

You nodded slowly, eyes lidded. Sweat covering your form.

God baby m’gonna fuck you full of my seed, m’gonna make you a momma if ya keep that up.

“Huh biggest you had”

He said ego boosting when you nodded again.

God your clit was throbbing, aching to be touched.

Whining you added a diget onto your puffy bud, Leon thrusting deep inside your cunt.

Your moans music to his ears.

“M’shoulda killed that bitch a loonng time ago”

You clenched around his cock, the remembrance of Sarah stinging.

“M’too early?~”

He sensed your unease fucking you faster, tears pricking your face from how good Leon’s cock felt.

Plus the dread you having Sarah’s killers cock inside your heat at the moment.

Awww baby still sad, over that bitch.. I’ll make you feel better.

He smirked then kissing you senselessly

“Forget about her..”

“Think about our babies more~”

He said speeding up, taking more of the reigns, pushing your finger away from your clit earning a whine.

Shoving his thumb on it, making you squirm and buck into leon.

Earning a smirk..

Atta girl

“M’gonna fill you~”

Said hips bucking, cock twitching.

Tongue lolled out, eyes lidded.

I’ll do alll the work~ baby

He pushed you further on his cock, the sound of skin slapping echoing the bedroom.

His cock sliding in and out of your tight walls.

You Meeks being heard.

“Gonna fuck this pussy so good, m’gonna keep you here, b-breed you ah~ right here”

He spat, his thrusts growing uneven the knot in your tummy growing.

Your hands going weak for Leon to drag them into his hair, you pulled on his hair earning a growl.

“M’Gonna give you everything”

“All of it!”

He whimpered cock sporting pre deep into your greedy cunt.

Feeling the hot sensation of Leon’s cock drag in and out of your needy hole.

Your body trembling, legs shaking, hands unmoving, eyes lidded.

He smirked seeing you whine on his gritty cock.

The sensations of your pussy wrapped around him sending shivers down Leon’s toned body.

His cock throbbing, hair sticking to his forehead.

“I-I did this for you.. only you”

He whined gasping, his hold on your knees becoming harder, while your hands in his hair tugging on him.

“G-Gonna cum..”

You whispered, your cunt squeezing Leon every so often.

You better not me on birth control

“Me too baby.. let’s come together”

He said like a puppy on heat bitting his lip, your juices mixing at his base.

“Breed you so full of my love”

He panted happily, you could almost see the hearted pupils in his ocean blue eyes.

Your knot growing unimaginably large, your clit swollen and red.

Leon’s finger firm on it, making your squirm around his cock.

Cock speeding up, pounding your pussy.

“So c-cute, s-so swollen with my b-babies, shit- go-nna c-cu-um”

Leon’s hips stuttering, white ropes filling your slick cunt, a whimper escaping him.

Your womb inflating, cum shooting deep into you, the warmth adding to your twitching clit.

Head lolled back, Leon frantically kissing you, still thrusting, while tears fell, from your eyes, mouth a gape.

“Did so well, taking my seed”

He cooed kissing and licking at your sweaty skin.

“Such a good job baby~”

He smiled kissing at your face pulling hair out of the way of your sticky fire head.

Exhaustion getting the better of you, from the betrayal to the heart ache to well the pussy ache~

Your eyes fluttering closed, while Leon caressed your face, littering it with kisses.

A growl coming from him.

Accompanied with a the gaping feeling of his cock entering you again

Looks like round two

410 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 8 months ago

Text

John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

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Edit: Here’s the fic!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader #my writing

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shybunnie20 · 10 months ago

Text

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, contains profanity.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute.

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess.

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy, could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha.” You leer at him, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs. “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’." He raps his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight.” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily.

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it.

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.”

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah." Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll." Eddie points the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope.” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously." Eddie reaches for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie grabs the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is." He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," you offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips. “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best.” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There.” You adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah.” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He pulls a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly.” You scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his Casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe.” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together.” His voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as possible. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah.” You maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back.” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?”

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight."

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one." He heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so.” His tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you agree begrudgingly, take it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated.” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing.” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter.

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently.” You barely have the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” you suggest, struggling to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked. “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off. “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve." Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid.” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you.” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong.”

“You’re not and you didn’t. They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault.” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry.” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there.” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch.” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me.” You grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you.” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little.” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful.” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too.” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Jesus Christ.”

“You can say that again.” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could.” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that." You smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much." You remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though." You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart." Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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unknownati · 2 months ago

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iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

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sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

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#ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko x you #arcane x reader #arcane lol #arcane #arcane ekko #arcane smut

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shixcherie · 3 months ago

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Can We Keep Her ? | Choi San & Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 17 : Captor Sex

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What started as a cheeky game of playful hacking quickly turned into a nightmare as you found yourself trapped by the most feared mafia gang in town. With your survival hinging on successfully completing your first mission, you begin to warm up to your teammates, San and Wooyoung. Will this be where it ends, or could you end up being claimed by the entire group ?

☆Word Count : 5.6k ☆Genre : Smut with a lot of plot, Angst, Mafia Au. ☆Pairing : Mafia! member San x Rich! daughter F.Reader x Mafia! member Wooyoung

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Smut with a lot of plot, part one of an upcoming series so treat it as a pilot chap, mafia themes and elements, oral (m.recieving), Whiny Wooyoung throwing tantrums, Soft! Dom San, a detailed world of the KZ, neck bites, nipple play, Mission-focused narrative with a constant sense of danger. Hinting at OT8.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 17 to you. This is the first part of a mafia series that’s gonna start on this blog so treat this chap as a pilot. There is alot of plot in here so pls have patience while reading. Hope you like it ma chéries.

"Get that fucking person to me right now!" an angry Hongjoong threw his glass of whiskey, which shattered into pieces as it crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the dark meeting room.

"It is impossible to breach our security system. No way some random person could have hacked into our system and messed it up so... eloquently." Yeosang said, almost amused by the culprit's skills as he adjusted his glasses and took notes on the laptop in front of him.

"I don’t care who, how, or why this happened. All I care about is that we might loose 100 billion dollars worth of gold, and now we look like dumbasses who don’t even know who did it!" Hongjoong banged his hand on the table, startling Yeosang, then shifted to stand with his hands braced on either side of it, “Fuck!” he screamed loudly.

"Calm down, Joong. We'll find out who this bastard is. Let’s have faith in Yeosangie's skills, okay?" Seonghwa chimed in, rubbing Hongjoong’s back. Hongjoong began to calm under his touch, while Seonghwa’s other hand caressed Yeosang’s hair, soothing him as well.

"When will Wooyoung and San be back?" Hongjoong asked Seonghwa, trying to suppress his anger.

"Tonight. They’re almost done with their mission. Also, San has a boxing match in two days." Seonghwa answered his boss.

"And Mingi?"

"Still on his mission in the Neighhaw district, undercover. He should be back in a few days as well." Seonghwa replied smoothly.

"I-I might have a few coordinates on this person, um... but I’m not sure if it’s the right one." Yeosang spoke again, hesitant and unsure of the information at hand, catching Hongjoong and everyone else's attention.

"Yunho, Jongho, bring him to me!" Hongjoong ordered the Ho-e brothers, who were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, arms folded, observing the chaos as they waited for their boss’s orders.

"Not him. It’s a her." Yeosang squeaked, gaining all of their attention as he turned his laptop toward them, showing the picture of the person responsible for the masterful breach.

Everyone’s eyes filled with different emotions, some with shock, some with amusement, but Hongjoong’s were burning with fiery anger.

"L/n Y/n is her name. She’s the one who broke into our system, stopped all of our gold-dealing operations, and planted a virus that nearly wiped out all of our data. Thankfully, I caught it just in time and stopped it." Yeosang continued, a bit surprised himself as he studied your profile.

Hongjoong turned to Yunho and Jongho. "Get me her, tonight," he ordered them, voice firm laced with authority “Let’s show her the true price of crossing the KamorraZ.” with that KamorraZ boss Hongjoong left the room.

“I am done with the evening tea, so I am taking my leave now.” you said, gently tapping your lips with a tissue and glancing up, not really surprised to receive any replies.

Your dad, the CEO of Nexus, a tech empire known for crafting masterful cameras and tech gadgets, was engaged in an intense conversation with your elder brother about some business matters, barely glancing at you.

While your mother was too busy feeding your younger sister, a bratty 15-year-old who still managed to capture all of her attention, warmth, and affection. Being the middle child was definitely the worst!

Shaking your head, you got up and left for your room. It did hurt sometimes,being ignored, not getting attention, and receiving minimal love,but they did shower you will limitless money making you get used to this life. And honestly, you were not complaining, not at all.

Not constantly being on their radar gave you the freedom to explore everything from horse riding and boxing to advanced coding and hacking, with hacking being your favorite pastime.

You liked messing things up, the thrill of not getting caught while still making your presence felt gave you immense joy. Randomly breaching various organizations' security systems and corrupting them with viruses was something you were extremely skilled at.

Does that make you a bad person? An irresponsible adult? Probably.

Do you care? No.

Did they care about you? When you were away from the house for a whole night, did your family even notice? No.

Did they come looking for you? No.

So what’s the point? Should you care anymore? Fuck NO!

A fat middle finger to you, cruel fucking world.

8PM, in your room.

Your fingers quickly worked on the keys, tapping away blocks of code. You were almost there with fucking up this security system that you somehow got hold of, ready to mess it up once you get past these operations, which seemed like some kind of gold dealings.

Eh, who cares? Let’s fuck this shit up.

With that, in dramatic fashion, you warmed your hands for the climax as you sabotaged the gold dealing of an organization called…KZ ? Interesting. Breaching their security system was a bit difficult, kinda advanced compared to the other orgs you had played with in the past.

But it’s Y/n here! And there ain't a system you can't fuck up.

Then you started injecting the virus into their system. Your fingers raced over the keyboard, typing commands to sneak the harmful code inside their defenses. Excitement rushed through you as the screen lit up, showing lines of green text while the virus worked its way through KZ’s security.

A dark look crossed your soft face, and a wicked smile appeared as you thought about the trouble it would cause. Just as the final command ran, the room's door banged open, startling you.

Your bratty sister, Anya, burst into the room, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

“Guess what? Mommy, Daddy, Hyung, and I are off to Giovanni’s party,” she announced in that screechy tone of hers, practically glowing with delight. “Oh, and don’t bother waiting for dinner, we’ll be out all night! Enjoy your lonely little meal!” The sheer audacity of this brat made your blood boil.

"Have fun, Anya. Try not to embarrass yourself too much in front of your precious friends.” you sassed back at her, not even bothering to look up.

"Hump!" she replied, unplugging your system and making your screen go blank at once.

Blinking a few times you looked up at her, anger boiling through your veins. She shot a satisfying wicked grin at you before walking out.

Eh, you were anyway done with it. With that, you decided to go for a walk, alone in the extremely safe neighborhood of yours, unaware of who was waiting for you.

10PM, outside your house.

A chill went down you spine as the cold breeze wooshed past you, the ambient night sounds ringed your ears as you walked in your neighbourhood. Your neighbourhood filled with elite families, had highest security, so walking alone at night was completely safe.

But tonight’s a bit differnt. You didn’t feel safe walking alone.

A black car closely followed you, keep tracking of your every turn as you started walking fast. As you speed up walking, turning back from time to time to see if they still followed you.

Your heart raced, and you quickened your pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. The car screeched to a halt just ahead, cutting you off, the KZ logo did not go unnoticed. Two figures emerged, one insanely tall and lean, the other buff and well-built. Yunho and Jongho had their faces hidden with only their intense eyes visible exuding a cold and intimidating presence.

You barely had time to react before the tall one caught your arm, yanking you back with ease. You struggled, but buff one moved in swiftly, silencing you with a hand over your mouth, chlorofom clouding your senses.

"That was almost too easy. No, Jongho?” the tall one, Yunho, teased exchanging looks with the buff one, presumably Jongho."Were you hoping we’d catch you, sweetheart?” he mocked,breath hot against your ear as your conciousness slowly started to slip.

“Most likely, Yunho. Lets take her to the base.” Jongho replied sparing you one final glance, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

A blindfold was slipped over your eyes, and you were shoved into the car. The doors slammed shut.

"KamorraZ always on top." Yunho and Jongho laughed, their voices dripping with confidence as they exchanged a playful high five.

Oh, fuck! KZ - THE KamorraZ, the most powerful mafia gang had you. And now, you were at their mercy.

That’s it you’re consciousness fully slipped of darkness clouded your brain.

The blindfold was yanked from your eyes, you blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the harsh light flooding the room. As your vision cleared, the reality hit hard, Hongjoong stood at the center, his icy gaze piercing right through you. Surrounding him were the KamorraZ members, all of them watching with unnerving intensity—Yunho, Jongho, Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Yeosang. Mingi was notably absent, but that wasn’t comforting.

You tried to read their faces, hoping to make sense of the situation, maybe also trying to figure out what’s gonna happen with you now.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and confident. "I see no reason to keep you alive," he said, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "You’ve trespassed into our world, and for that, death is the only price.”

You gulped trying to keep a composure, but inside you were a freaking mess.

Your throat tightened. This is it? you thought, panic swelling inside. I’m going to die now? Wow… I haven’t even had proper sex yet!

A few of the members shifted uncomfortably. Yunho, leaned casually against the wall, gaze flickering between you and Hongjoong. Jongho stood stoic as ever, arms crossed, though his face gave out nothing. Yeosang, meanwhile, watched from the shadows, his sharp eyes never leaving you while Seonghwa, standing beside him, seemed more contemplative. His expression was hard to read, but there was a flicker of something, pity, perhaps?

San and Wooyoung exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them. You couldn’t tell whether they were in favor of or against your fate.

Wooyoung broke the silence stepping forward, speaking confidently, “She hacked us.That alone shows she’s got skills. Skills we can use.”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered toward Wooyoung, unimpressed. “Skills?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism. “Skills that nearly cost us our security. That’s not something to celebrate, Wooyoung.”

San chimed in, standing beside Wooyoung “If she’s good enough to get through our systems, she could be worth more alive than dead,” he argued, his tone playful but serious underneath. Wooyoung’s partner in crime, hence proved.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. “And if she uses those same skills to betray us? Do you really want to take that risk? We’re not in the business of charity, San.”

Seonghwa, standing to the side, spoke next. His voice was calm yet firm, “We should at least see what she can do before making any rash decisions.”

Hongjoong’s gaze shifted to Seonghwa, clearly annoyed. “Rash decisions? I’m trying to prevent a disaster. You know what happens if word gets out that we let someone hack into our system and walk away.”

In the shadows, Yeosang, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his presence subtle but commanding. “She’s already in too deep,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s loyal, she could be an asset.”

He continued, “I’ve reviewed her background thoroughly. She doesn’t seem to have any allies, so it looks like she’s been doing this alone… just for fun, I guess?” His gaze shifted to you, studying your every move, searching for any sign that contradicted his words. When you nervously bowed your head, it confirmed what he suspected. He was right.

The thick tension filled atmosphere dawned like a veil, your survival literally dwindled on a thin thread. Everyone’s eyes were now on Hongjoong, waiting for his final call. The leader’s jaw clenched, clearly irritated by the pushback, but he wasn’t someone to ignore the voices of his crew especially when Wooyoung and San were pushing this hard.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hongjoong let out a low sigh, frustration clear in his voice. “Fine. One chance.”

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding as Hongjoong continued. “In two days, there’s a boxing match. You’ll assist Wooyoung and San. Arthur, a member of a rival gang, has the gold deal secured.Yeosang confirmed it. Fix what you messed up, under the cover of the fight. Wooyoung and San will fill you in on the rest.” He finished, gesturing toward Woosan, both now had smug smiles on their faces, having just won you a chance to escape death.

Leaning in, his breath brushed your face as his voice darkened with a mix of threat and intrigue. "If you succeed, you live. But if you fail..." His eyes held yours, a slight smirk on his lips. "You'll beg for death, but it won't come easy.”

After spending two days with Wooyoung and San, you slowly warmed up to them. The three of you shared meals as you learned about every member, they also told you stories of their past missions, and you entertained them with your absurd stories of hacking into security systems and causing mayhem.

From the very beginning, it felt like you would get along well, and that assumption turned out to be true. At least here, with them, you felt heard—unlike in your soulless home. Wooyoung’s playful charm and constant flirting, paired with San’s unexpected warmth and casual touches, made the cold, brutal reality of KamorraZ a little easier to bear.

But the two days weren’t just about bonding. They were also filled with intense preparation. Self-defense training and running through the mission details with Wooyoung and San consumed most of your time. You learned that San was scheduled to face off against Arthur, a key figure in the rival gang, in a boxing match. Arthur’s men would be scattered throughout the arena, watching closely, but your mission was clear. While the fight served as a distraction, you’d sneak out, locate Arthur’s car, secure his laptop, sabotage the deal, and alert Yeosang. After that, you'd return to the match unnoticed. San would finish Arthur in the ring, ensuring that the night ended in your favor.

It was a solid, well-thought-out plan. What could go wrong? Apparently, everything.

San paced nervously in the back of the van, his usual bravado slipping. From the driver’s seat, Wooyoung caught your eye through the rearview mirror and offered a reassuring smile. “He always gets like this before a fight,” he said with a soft chuckle. “He’ll be fine once we’re there.”

You nodded, trying to calm your own nerves, but the tension in the air was thick. Watching San run a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed, you couldn’t just sit there.

“Hey,” you said softly, moving closer. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” Your hand brushed his arm, and he glanced at you, his eyes softening briefly.

San managed a faint smile, though his shoulders remained tense. “It’s not just the fight,” he admitted, voice low. “If we mess this up, it’s all of us at risk.”

His vulnerability struck a chord. “I’m nervous too,” you confessed, scooting closer, placing your hand on his. He gripped it gently, his fingers wrapping around yours. “But we’re a team, right?”

San’s gaze lingered on yours, the tension in his eyes betraying the brave face he tried to wear. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, but the longer you stared, the more your heart raced.

Who’s calming who?

You glanced up at San, his breath hitching as your hand grazed his thigh. His usual bravado faltered, but the darkening in his eyes showed he wasn't as confused as he pretended to be. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and the air between you both thickened.

“Maybe I can help.” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Slowly, you slid off your seat, settling between his legs. San’s breath hitched as your fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants, the tension growing.

“Yah! Don’t have fun without me!” Wooyoung yelled from the front, glancing at the rearview mirror, grip tightening on the wheel. His dramatic reaction only added to the teasing mood.

You shot him a playful look. “Eyes on the road, Woo.” you teased with a wink, then turned your attention back to San.

Freeing his thick, veiny cock, you paused to admire him for a moment. San's smirk grew, giving you the approval you sought. With one kitten lick across the tip, his composure shattered, a wave of pleasure taking over as his nervousness faded into thin air.

Maintaining eye contact, you swirled your tongue around his tip, watching pleasure cloud his gaze as he let out a low, breathy “Fuck.” His head fell back against the seat, eyes closed, and a shudder ran through him as your other hand massaged his balls.

Pumping his hard length slowly, teasingly, you pushed him further with every stroke, his soft moans fueling your desire. Without warning, you took him fully into your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy cock. San’s hands tangled in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each movement.

The van filled with the wet sounds of your mouth, drawing out San's breathless moans. Wooyoung, still watching from the mirror, groaned dramatically. “This is torture, you know,” he whined, tossing his head back in frustration but keeping the van steady. His grumbling only heightened the playful tension, and you could feel his frustration adding to the heat in the moment.

“Y/n, I— I’m gonna—” San’s voice cracked as his hips bucked slightly. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks, your jaw stretched pleasurably by his thick length. The sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat made you push through the ache, desperate to take every inch.

San’s body tensed as he twitched in your mouth, spilling himself into you with a groan. You swallowed everything, your tongue still working him until he had nothing left to give.

Pulling away, you wiped your lips with a satisfied smirk. “Feel better?” you murmured.

San’s eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “You reallyare something else!” he breathed out, still catching his breath. “But,I am feeling much better now.”

From the front, Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You owe me for this, San. Big time!” He shot you a teasing smirk through the mirror. “And you, babygirl, get ready for your punishment once I’m done driving.” His playful threat sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the delicious tension filling the van.

—

Now with San behind the steering wheel, you decided to work on the mission a bit. You studied Arthur’s profile and the routes you need to take in the parking lot to reach his car. Getting everything ready to corrupt his system, you also prepared a sneaky surprise for the rival gang.

The van came to a sudden halt and stopped with a jerk.

“Gas station. Pit stop.” San shouted from the front as Wooyoung got down the van shooting you a dirty look.

What was that now ? Why is this guy sudddenly acting weird ? Is he..jealous ?

As San headed inside to grab food, you found yourself alone with Wooyoung by the van, the tension between you two lingering. He leaned against the side of the van, arms crossed, pretending to ignore you while his jaw clenched slightly.

You decided to break the silence. “What’s with the look, Woo? Jealous?” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He scoffed but didn’t meet your eyes. “Jealous? Of San? Please. I’m just—" Wooyoung paused, searching for an excuse, but you could see right through him. "I’m annoyed, that’s all."

"Annoyed, huh?" You stepped closer, tilting your head slightly. “You’ve been pouting since then. Come on, admit it. You hate when someone else gets the attention.”

Wooyoung finally looked at you, his usual playful grin creeping back. “Me? Pout? I don’t pout. I’m just... irritated that San got all the fun back there, while I had to focus on keeping the van on the road.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sounds a lot like jealousy to me.”

"Jealousy?" Wooyoung straightened up, inching closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Please, if I were jealous, I would’ve thrown San out of the van and taken his place."

You chuckled. “Oh really? So what’s stopping you now?”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "You know what? Fine, maybe I am jealous. But only because I didn’t get to show off my skills first."

"Skills?" You burst into laughter. “So that’s what this is about. You feel left out.”

You leaned against the van next to him, grinning. “Don’t worry, Woo. I’m sure you’ll get your chance soon enough. Besides, it’s cute seeing you all worked up.”

Before Wooyoung could respond, San returned with bags of snacks, completely oblivious to the banter that had just unfolded.

“What did I miss?” San asked, glancing between the two of you as he handed Wooyoung a drink.

Wooyoung snatched it, side-eyeing you with a playful grin. “Oh, nothing. Just figuring out who’s more jealous in this van.”

San raised an eyebrow, confused, while you and Wooyoung exchanged knowing looks.

Making your way inside the van, San once again took the steering wheel while you settled in the back with your laptop, preparing the surprise for the rival gang. A wicked smile crossed your face as you dramatically rubbed your palms together, imagining the chaos your plan would cause.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Wooyoung until he settled behind you, his legs trapping you in place as his warm body pressed against yours.

His hands began to softly rub your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. "Woo, what are you doing?" you muttered, eyes narrowing playfully, a faint smile dancing on your lips.

Wooyoung’s breath, hot against your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. “Showing you my skills.” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. He dipped his head, leaving soft kisses along your neck.

“Eyes on the laptop, babygirl.” he threw your tease back at you, his smile evident against your skin as his lips began trailing open-mouthed kisses. Occasionally, his teeth grazed your skin with gentle bites, causing you to suppress a moan.

Despite the distraction, you tried to stay focused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but Wooyoung's attention made it increasingly difficult to concentrate. "How am I supposed to work like this?" you asked, breathless, feeling his lips linger on your pulse point.

“Multitask, baby.” Wooyoung murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up to your chest, massaging gently but firmly. His fingers brushed over your nipples, teasing with just enough pressure to send a jolt through your body. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking lightly and leaving faint marks.

His hands squeezed and kneaded your boobs over the clothes making it impossible to focus. You tried to stay on task, but each touch clouded your mind further.

"Wooyoung…" you gasped, voice shaky, eyes closed as he chuckled softly against your neck. "Keep working…" he whispered, fingers pressing harder. "I know you can handle it."

San’s deep voice suddenly broke through. “If you two are done, a little focus on the mission would be nice,” he teased. “Unless you want me to pull over and join.”

You flushed as Wooyoung smirked. “Feel free, Sannie. But win the fight first. You gotta earn it you know ? ” he shot back teasing, his hands still on you.

San chuckled, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. "Don't worry, I always earn what’s mine." he replied, voice low and filled with intent. "Just save some energy for later, you’re gonna need it."

As the van slowed near the arena gate, the weight of his words lingered. Wooyoung pressed a final kiss to your shoulder, whispering, "Time to focus, babygirl." You both quickly fixed yourselves and moved to the front, ready to face the mission ahead.

The underground boxing arena screamed of grit, raw energy and danger. Dim lights flickered above, casting shadows over the crowd, a diverse mix of mafia gangs all copped together in anticipation. The air was thick with tension, the stench of sweat and smoke mingling with the metallic scent of money.

Everywhere you looked, men in dark suits and expensive watches lounged around, whispering deals, exchanging deadly glances, and clutching their drinks with one hand and a beautiful blonde in their other hand.

The parking lot outside was a stark contrast to the grimy atmosphere of the arena. Sleek, luxury cars lined the lot, an indication of the wealth and power amassed here tonight. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and armored SUVs gleamed under the faint glow of streetlights, guarded by stoic, armed men. It was a place where opulence and danger lived side by side, giving you a stark reminder of the stakes involved.

As the van rolled in, you passed a tough security checkpoint. Hulking men in black scanned the van, checking IDs, and giving approving nods before stepping aside to let you through. You felt their eyes on you, but with Wooyoung and San by your side, you slipped past the security with ease.

Inside, thecheerful roars echoed, crowds of people swarmed the arena floor, eager for the violence that was about to unfold. San stole a quick glance at you, a soft look adorned his face before egtting replaced with intense feline eyes. A calm exterior dawned him at the intense fight that lay ahead. You exchanged a quick nod. Wooyoung, on the other hand, flashed his trademark grin, leaning in for a quick “Good luck. Don’t get caught.”

Then, you parted ways.San to the ring, Wooyoung to manage the bets, and you to find Arthur’s car.

The arena buzzed as San climbed into the ring, greeted by Arthur, a towering figure with a snarl to match.The crowd roared as the two men stood infront and eventually bowed, marking the begining of the fight while Wooyoung collected the bet money on San’s name.

The fight began with a flurry of punches, San's lean frame dancing around Arthur's brute force. Wooyoung stood at the sidelines, eyes sharp as he handled the stacks of cash betted on San, his hands moving swiftly to manage the money while keeping a close eye on the fight. Every punch San landed, Wooyoung would grin, his confidence in San palpable as he entertained the others throwing down their money.

Meanwhile, you slipped out of the chaos, nerves buzzing as you headed to the parking lot for your first mission. The weight of it pressed on you, but you held steady, determined not to crack under pressure. Spotting Arthur’s sleek black BMW in a dim corner, your heart raced, but you reminded yourself to breathe.

This was your chance to prove yourself and not get killed.

You pulled out your tools and got to work, hacking into the car’s system. The dashboard lit up as you breached its firewall, fingers flying over your laptop as you worked to corrupt the data and plant the surprise for the rival gang.

Back in the ring, San was locked in a brutal exchange of punches. Arthur's size made him formidable, but San was faster, more precise. Each strike was calculated, his movements fluid. The crowd roared as he landed a solid punch to Arthur’s jaw, sending the man staggering back. San was in control, and it showed.

Meanwhile, you worked quickly, aware that time was running out. Arthur's car system was more than just a firewall; it was the nerve center of his entire operation. As you cracked through the layers of security, you stumbled upon sensitive files detailing a massive gold smuggling ring. But these weren’t just any dealings; they were KamorraZ's—your gold. Arthur had been skimming from KZ all along.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you wiped the data clean, erasing his transactions and taking back what was yours. Swiftly, you sent a notification to Yeosang, so he could lock this all down for KamorraZ, securing your regained control of the gold deal. Gold deal acquired. First Task done!

Next, you wiped the data clean, erasing years of shady transactions, leaving no trace behind and successfully planted a virus, rigged to not only erase all his data but also lock him out of his own networks. Second task checked off!

Now for the fun part, the cherry on top if you may say.

A program designed to send a mass email to every crime boss, claiming Arthur is “switching careers” leaving the mafia life to join a bunny band. Attached was a photoshopped image of Arthur in a ridiculous sparkly outfit, his crew labeled as his "backup bunny dancers," each given a humiliating stage name. Also, every time one of Arthur’s men would try to log into their accounts or communicate, their profile pictures would automatically change to cartoon characters, everything from clueless clowns to pink bunnies wearing tutus.

It was a deadly blow wrapped in a joke. In an instant, the infamous Arthur’s crew would go from feared mafia gang to a running joke in the mafia world. Laughter would ripple through the underworld, and Arthur’s once-feared name would become synonymous with mockery.

Final task accomplished!

Wooyoung, half-focused on San's fight, checked his phone. "Status?”

“Almost done,” you replied, watching the final upload. The plan was flawless. Arthur’s reign would crumble, his gold reclaimed, and his reputation destroyed in a way no one would forget.

Wooyoung signaled San that your work was done, a proud smirk adorning his face.

Fueled by adrenaline and the successful completion of your part of the mission, San delivered the final blow, a fierce uppercut that sent Arthur crashing to the mat. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, cheering and shouting as San stood victorious, barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Wooyoung threw a fist in the air, collecting the piles of cash while flashing you a quick look from across the room.

“Mission accomplished,” you texted the whole group back at the base, as you made your way back to Wooyoung, the rush of success surging through you. As you rejoined them, San had just won his match, the crowd roaring with excitement as he raised his fists in triumph. Wooyoung was already collecting cash from the bets, his grin wide as he pocketed the money.

Just then, he big screen above the ring lit up, showing a hilarious photoshopped image of Arthur and his men in bunny costumes with tutus completed with exaggerated expressions.The crowd burst into laughter, adding to the night’s chaos. Even Arthur and his crew were too stunned to react, their fearsome reputation shattered in an instant. Your little bunny surprise had worked perfectly.

Wooyoung had a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You're evil. Perfect for KamorraZ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as the crowd continued to roar with laughter, unaware of the all the other chaos you’d unleashed on Arthur’s operation.

Taking this as your cue, you shared quick glances with San and Wooyoung. “Time to slip out,” San said urgently.

You maneuvered through the crowd, securing the winnings from the fight, the gold deal, and the chaos you'd caused. Once at the van, you jumped in, adrenaline still surging.

“Let’s get back to base. They need to know the beautiful chaos you have caused.” Wooyoung said, counting the cash with a wide grin. San nodded, starting the engine and pulling away. As the arena lights faded behind you, you smiled at the success of your first mission. One that had shaken the underworld.

Back at the base, the atmosphere buzzed with celebration as crew members surrounded you, congratulating you for your successful mission. Wooyoung clung to your side, practically bouncing with excitement. “Look at you, all badass! Ready for tonight ?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

San leaned against the wall, a proud smile on his face. “You really nailed it,” he said, shooting you a smirk that made your heart race. It was clear both he and Wooyoung were down bad to steal you away for the night and finish what you had started back in the van.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his tough love evident as he clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Not bad for a rookie. You’ve earned my trust,” he said, his tone gruff but with an unmistakable warmth behind it.”Atleast we don’t have to kill you now.”

Seonghwa approached, a soft smile on his face. “You did well,” he said, his voice calm yet encouraging. “We knew you could handle it.”

Yeosang chimed in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t wait to see Arthur’s face when he realizes what happened. You really pulled one over on him!”

Yunho and Jongho joined the group, both grinning widely. “You’ve got guts,” Yunho said, giving you a light punch on the arm. “Welcome to the family.”

Jongho laughed, adding, “Next time, let’s make it even bigger!”

As laughter filled the room, Wooyoung leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, after all this, I think you, San and I deserve some private time together” he said, glancing at San, who nodded in agreement, his expression playful yet intense. Your heart raced but you shot him a playful smile with a look in your eyes that screamed approval to his request.

You could feel the crew’s acceptance wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You were no longer just an outsider, you were part of the team.

In this moment, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

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