#i hate drawing leather jackets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bernardsbendystraws · 1 day ago

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𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha.

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason.

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn.

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me.

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed.

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say.

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road.

Typical.

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute.

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck.

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby.

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea.

How much would it cost him if I stayed around?

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous.

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing.

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air.

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side.

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod.

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming.

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.”

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home.

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates.

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars.

He’s so cocky.

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye.

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car.

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?”

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm.

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”

Fuck.

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe.

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression.

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks.

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide.

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away.

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me.

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides.

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?”

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth.

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink.

Uh oh.

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is.

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris.

It had to be at least two grand.

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers.

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket.

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time.

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air.

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill.

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him.

And it makes it so hard to look away.

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces.

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.”

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks.

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me.

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck.

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points.

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me.

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek.

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.”

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more.

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side.

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference.

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser.

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—”

“Hey!”

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me.

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off.

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer.

The fuck?

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement.

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder.

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even.

“Kiss me.”

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips.

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known.

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder.

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut.

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that.

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him.

“1—GO!”

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed.

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth.

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine.

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough.

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck.

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him.

Why did that feel so… good?

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line.

Had we really been kissing that long?

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more.

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?”

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down.

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing.

“C’MON!!!”

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back.

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease.

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation.

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over.

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges.

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in.

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard.

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road.

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh.

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact.

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach.

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones.

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.”

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me.

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me.

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance.

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back.

“Over here. Now.”

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console.

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—”

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer.

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine.

“Why?”

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse.

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him.

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?”

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra.

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes.

Fuck. I can’t take this.

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin.

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.”

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me.

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins.

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded.

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.”

Oh my god.

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves.

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch.

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me.

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still.

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water.

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge.

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.”

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself.

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck.

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him.

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear.

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt.

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again.

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length.

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—”

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him.

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken.

“I–it’s, I—”

What the fuck was I saying?

Everything feels so light, so impossible.

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan.

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips.

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations.

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?”

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement.

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria.

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions.

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me.

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants.

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit.

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum.

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea.

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more.

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap.

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks.

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out.

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear.

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?”

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.”

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts.

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…”

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?”

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a-d-nox · 2 months ago

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how can you glow up: your 1h - your look

to work off my recent post about glow ups. today i will be taking a closer look at 1h themes regarding glowing up.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

1h aries (1°, 13°, 25°), 1h mars, and/or mars aspecting asc

style

embrace boldness: strong, eye-catching styles. opt for tailored cuts, statement pieces, and/or vibrant colors like red, black, and/or deep maroon.

minimalist edge: minimalist outfits with sharp, clean lines work well. think structured blazers, fitted jeans, and sleek dresses.

athletic influences: bomber jackets, chunky sneakers, or athleisure pieces that combine comfort and power/strength.

statement accessories: leather belts, combat boots, and/or metallic jewelry.

beauty

defined features: use makeup to emphasize strong features, like sculpted cheekbones (contouring), bold brows, and/or a fierce cat-eye.

bold lip colors: reds and deep tones are perfect for making a statement.

effortless hair: low-maintenance but striking styles suit these people. try tousled waves, a slicked-back ponytail, and/or a pixie cut.

skincare for vibrancy: redness or sensitivity are common for this placement. incorporate calming, anti-inflammatory products (aloe vera, green tea, etc) while also enhancing your natural glow with gentle exfoliation.

body language & presence

command attention: walk with purpose and exude confidence in every movement.

strong posture: your body should radiates strength, so maintain good posture and carry yourself with self-assuredness.

active energy: use expressive gestures and/or physical activity to channel your energy into dynamic actions that captivate others.

mindset mantras

“my energy is magnetic."

"i am unstoppable.”

“i glow when i embrace my strength.”

1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°), 1h mercury, and/or mercury aspecting asc

style

play with versatility: you are adaptable, so lean into styles that allow you to switch things up easily. opt for pieces that can be layered, mixed and matched, or dressed up or down. modular wardrobes and quirky accessories can also keep things fresh.

focus on youthful, playful vibes: embrace fun patterns, bright colors, or playful silhouettes. think cropped tops (careful if you in corporate - office sirens are a tiktok thing they not real lol), sneakers, and relaxed tailoring.

highlight the hands and arms: gemini rules the hands and arms, so accessories like rings, bracelets, and polished manicures draw attention to you. potentially experiment with finger tattoos (i would say only if mercury beneficially aspecting mars and pluto), colorful nail art, or layered bangles.

embrace intellectual elegance: incorporate "smart", polished touches, like well-fitted blazers, statement glasses, or minimalist yet clever jewelry.

beauty

fresh-faced makeup: aim for light, natural-looking makeup that emphasizes radiance. think glossy lips, dewy skin, and fluttery lashes. experiment with subtle eyeliner or shadow to create a playful but polished eye look.

experiment with hairstyles: don’t be afraid to try new cuts or colors. bangs, layers, or multidimensional highlights could add to your playful energy. accessories like barrettes, headbands, and/or clips can reflect your quick-changing vibe.

skin-care for a luminous look: focus on lightweight, hydrating products that enhance your natural glow without feeling heavy.

body language & presence

curiosity: you should aim for being naturally inquisitive and engaging. a warm smile (ugh hate telling people to smile more) and attentive posture amplify your charm.

express with your hands: use gestures when speaking to showcase your animated and captivating energy.

keep your energy light and flexible: you come alive in conversations and movement, so let your personality shine in how you interact with others.

mindset mantras

“i am curious and adaptable.”

“my versatility is my superpower.”

“my playfulness enhances my every look.”

1h libra (7°, 19°), 1h venus, and/or venus aspecting asc

style

classic elegance: timeless, sophisticated looks. aim for chic silhouettes, neutral tones, and soft fabrics like silk or cashmere. tailored blazers, flowy dresses, or polished trousers.

balance in outfits: libra thrives on symmetry and balance. counter balance proportions (i typically do fitted top with wide-leg pants as someone with this placement) and pair bold elements with subtle ones.

romantic details: incorporate feminine, romantic touches like lace, ruffles, and/or floral patterns. accessories like pearl earrings (my fav).

matching color theory / finding flattering colors: usually these people are in a soft palette. so pastels and harmonious shades like blush pink, light blue, or cream highlight your natural beauty.

stylish accessories: beauty is in the details. think statement jewelry, a chic handbag, or elegant shoes can complete your look.

beauty

glowing skin: prioritize your complexion via hydrating skincare. face mists, illuminating primers, and natural highlighters can give you that venusian glow.

perfecting your brow shape: symmetrical beauty is a libra venus and rising thing, so well-groomed, balanced brows enhance your natural beauty.

soft makeup: opt for soft, romantic looks: rosy blush, nude or pink lips, and neutral eyeshadow. slight winged eyeliner adds a touch of drama without being overpowering.

the art of hair: best suited in polished hairstyles. consider sleek ponytails, loose waves, or elegant buns. highlights or balayage in warm, subtle tones can add to your perceived sophistication.

body language & presence

charm: smile often (i hate when people tell me that) and project warmth. libra risings have a natural charisma that attracts others.

posture: a graceful, upright posture enhances your air of elegance. yoga or pilates can help develop this poise.

be approachable: your energy is diplomatic and magnetic, so lean into your ability to create harmony in social interactions.

mindset mantras

“i am the embodiment of beauty and grace."

“my elegance is effortless.”

“harmony begins within, and it radiates out.”

1h sagittarius (9°, 21°), 1h jupiter, and/or jupiter aspecting asc

style

go bold: embrace bold colors and lively patterns that reflect an adventurous spirit. flowing, luxurious fabrics like satin or silk mirror the abundance you bring.

elevate with elegance: invest in quality over quantity. timeless pieces, like tailored blazers or elegant dresses, will amplify your glow.

cultural inspiration: styles inspired by travel or cultural motifs (like patterns, jewelry, or textiles) resonate beautifully with this aspect. of course in a non-appropriative manner .

comfort is key: ensure your wardrobe blends style with comfort. think soft, flowing cuts or boho-chic aesthetics.

beauty

radiant skin: focus on achieving a healthy, radiant glow through skincare. hydration and nourishing products are essential.

bright and open makeup looks: go for makeup that enhances your natural warmth. think luminous foundation, bronzer for a sun-kissed look, and golden highlighter work well.

hair with movement: jupiter’s energy loves freedom, so hairstyles that are loose, flowing, or natural-looking (like waves or curls) suit you best.

body language & presence

confident posture: you have a natural charisma. stand tall and own your space to project confidence effortlessly.

engaging smile: let your smile be your signature. a genuine smile enhances your approachable energy.

generous energy: exude warmth by being present and enthusiastic when engaging with others.

mindset mantras

“my positivity is my greatest glow.”

“i radiate abundance and confidence.”

“growth and self-love are the foundations of my beauty.”

1h pisces (12°, 24°), 1h neptune, and/or neptune aspecting asc

style

dreamy, flowing silhouettes: soft, fluid clothing. opt for dresses, skirts, or tops with flowing, romantic designs. sheer or satin fabrics amplify this vibe.

whimsical details: lace, embroidery, or shimmery accents add a touch of magic to your look. layering pieces like shawls or cardigans can evoke a dreamy, layered aesthetic.

soft colors: pastel shades, muted tones, or oceanic hues like lavender, pale blue, seafoam green, and silver.

beauty

luminous skin: enhance a natural glow. use hydrating skincare and dewy makeup products, like liquid highlighters or illuminating primers.

soft, diffused makeup: focus on dreamy, blended looks. think soft, smoky eyes, blush with a watercolor effect, and sheer lip glosses.

hair with flow: loose waves, soft curls, or tousled styles. hair accessories, like pearl clips or headbands, add a whimsical touch.

body language & presence

graceful movements: move with calmness and fluidity. practices like yoga or dance can enhance your poise.

mystical energy: lean into your mysterious vibe by being introspective and allowing your presence to speak louder than words.

soft gaze: your eyes are likely a standout feature. enhance your connection with others through warm, soulful eye contact.

mindset mantra

"i radiate beauty and grace effortlessly.”

"my creativity is my greatest assets.”

“i glow when i align with my inner magic."

1h ruler in the 4h

style

comfort meets elegance: blend cozy and chic. think knitwear, flowy fabrics, and soft layers that make you feel at ease yet polished. fabrics like cotton, linen, and cashmere resonate with the homey yet refined vibe they should aim for.

heritage-inspired looks: incorporate cultural or familial influences into your style, like heirloom jewelry, vintage pieces, and/or traditional patterns.

neutral/earthy tones: soft, calming colors like beige, cream, sage green, or light blues create a harmonious, approachable aesthetic.

classic, timeless staples: opt for timeless pieces that feel like a second skin, like well-fitted jeans, crisp shirts, and/or a versatile trench coat.

beauty

natural glow: emphasize a fresh, radiant complexion. focus on nourishing skincare and light, dewy makeup that enhances your natural features.

relaxed hair styles: loose waves, soft braids, and/or simple updos work well; they reflect their easygoing, comforting energy.

soothing beauty rituals: prioritize self-care routines at home, like face masks, at home manicures, or aromatherapy.

body language & presence

grounded confidence: project a calm, steady presence that reflects your inner security.

emotional connection: share your personal story or background when appropriate - it can make your presence more relatable and magnetic.

warm, inviting energy: your glow-up is amplified when you make others feel at home around you.

mindset mantras

“my glow begins from within.”

“i balance comfort and beauty effortlessly.”

“when i feel at home in myself, my light shines everywhere.”

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button!

return to nox’s guide to metaphysics

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #natal chart #astrology tumblr #persona chart #astro notes #astrology chart #astrology readings #astrology signs #astro #astro observations #astroblr #venus persona #venus persona chart

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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wheneverfeasible · 3 months ago

Text

Wiggly Wednesday?

The brain worms are here again.

I honestly hate Christmas and avoid doing too much for it. However, an idea came to me suddenly and I can’t stop thinking about…

Secret Santa Steddie AU.

In one of Steve’s high school classes senior year, they’re assigned a Secret Santa project. They all put their names in a Santa hat and have to draw one out (returning it for another if it’s their own) and that’s the person they have to secretly give a gift to, either homemade or purchased, but there’s a cap of like…whatever the equivalent of $20 today is back then. Idk.

This is supposed to be a team building type of exercise, something to foster camaraderie, after say maybe a huge argument/fight broke out between Tommy and his group and the Freak, Eddie Munson, as well as some other nerds. Steve is exhausted and doesn’t care for Tommy’s bullshittery anymore, so he didn’t really get involved, though Eddie did throw a few digs his way. Which was hurtful but probably deserved.

Anyways, Steve draws out Eddie’s name.

For the next week or so the last fifteen minutes of class are devoted to questionnaires and such where the students answer questions about themselves directly or they fill in answers to widely asked questions, all used to let the Secret Santas learn about their recipients. Some people take it more seriously than others.

Steve gets to know more about Eddie, who is more blasé about it all, obviously not expecting anyone to give him something good (if they give him anything at all) since he has no friends in the class and most people don’t like him. So Steve, who has never paid Eddie any amount of attention before in the past but has been now and finds himself intrigued, starts observing Eddie outside of class.

Steve knows he could buy Eddie something music related. An easy cop-out gift. But the more he observes Eddie, the more he gets to see the tiny cracks in the Freak persona whenever he spies on him, sees the nerdy but also kind person beneath the leather jacket. And…okay…maybe he starts to develop a sort of crush without realizing that’s what happens.

Maybe he bribes other nerds about Hellfire Club and Eddie and makes certain they don’t squeal about him asking (he doesn’t realize he comes off as threatening, he just thinks he’s being urging), maybe he hears Eddie mention things and then he goes and asks Dustin what they mean, learning it’s from a book series about midgets and some jewelry or whatever, and so an idea forms.

While shuttling the kids about after school, Steve asks Will if he’d be willing to draw something for him, which Steve would pay him for. Will, obviously excited because it’s his first commission job and Steve pays him fairly, agrees.

(Steve may also purchase a patch at the record store they stop at—Will’s request as he wants to buy something for Jonathan—because it reminds him of Eddie, but that doesn’t matter.)

Yadda yadda ya, it’s time to exchange gifts. The teacher has allowed them to drop them off leading up to the Friday before winter vacation to keep the mystery alive.

When Eddie gets his, he’s expecting something more like a prank gift. Instead, he’s gifted a colored drawing (sadly not enough time for a painting) of Eddie dressed as someone named something like Spider or Arrow Gone or whatever, Steve doesn’t really know, but it’s him fighting off a horde of monster things with a flaming eyeball in the background and further back is an erupting volcano.

Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on, not really able to absorb the massive info dump Dustin gave him, but Will assured Steve that the dude was cool and the battle depicted was awesome and important when he dropped off his old yearbook for model reference. Will’s opinion was enough for Steve of course. He just hoped Eddie liked it, and the patch that he rolled up with the picture.

Eddie is, of course, gobsmacked and trying his hardest not to show it. He scans the classroom to try to figure out who could have given him such an amazing gift, but no one even looks at him. There’s no way he would ever suspect the truth.

Steve ended up getting a can of Farrah Fawcett spray, which everyone laughed at and assumed was a joke gift for a jock, but Steve noticed a small twitch of a smile on Tommy’s face, the only one besides Dustin now who knows his secret.

Later, Eddie’s battle vest is adorned with the patch he received in his gift, a red and black Leviathan cross, but Steve doesn’t know what happened to the drawing. He hopes it didn’t get trashed.

It’s not until later, after everything with Vecna and recovering what was salvageable from the trailer, that he found the picture safely secured behind a glass frame hidden in Eddie’s room. It’s only then that Steve realizes that he might have been a little bit in love with Eddie “the Freak” Munson all this time.

Aaaaaaaah sorry this is a little bit of a nebulous ending here. Does this story follow canon and Eddie is dead, never knowing who his Secret Santa is? Or is Eddie recovering from his injuries, fated to recognize Will’s art style and thus learning the truth behind one of his most prized possessions? Who’s to say 🤷

I’m just gonna tag my perma list because I’m lazy. Anyone can be happy to consider this a tag for their own future brain worms tho!

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

#wiggly wednesday #brain worms #secret santa au #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #light angst #vague ending #open ending #plot thots

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number1mingyustan · 9 months ago

Note

hihi !! I love your fics sm. <3

If you're taking requests can you do Mingyu as a biker bf? What if you wanna learn how to ride a bike and he says "you should practice on the biker first." OMFGGG IM CRAZY. Love you

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, kissing, explicit smut, oral (f+m), sixty-nine, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, light breast play, multiple orgasms

_______________________________________________

Mingyu nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes remain fixated on the easel in front of him. He's concentrating, hand moving slowly as he drags the brush along the canvas.

You smile to yourself, feeling your heart warm at the sight of him.

Painting is not his thing.

Even with all the effort he seems to be putting into his painting, his lines are crooked and a little messy. He knows this too, he's never really been one for the arts.

Painting is one of your hobbies and always has been. You're more of the artistic type and Mingyu well... Mingyu likes his bikes. He's got more of a grunge sort of vibe that consists of leather jackets, obnoxious motorcycles, and cigarettes.

You were polar opposites. You preferred your quiet life in the arts, sundresses, walks in flower fields, and painting. You've noticed the way he's softened up since you two met, you're sure it's the effect you've had on him.

He sticks his tongue out, drawing his last two strokes before dropping the paintbrush into the cup. "Done."

You turn your head, completely facing him. You eyes scan over the painting in front of him and your smile grows. "Gyu you've gotten so good at this."

He grins at the praise. "Learned from the best."

The painting in front of him is simple, a landscape of a beach sunset. There's not nearly as much detail as the reference photo in front of you two, but it's undeniably solid work, especially for a beginner like your boyfriend.

He leans over, planting a kiss onto your cheek. His eyes can't help but drift to your painting as he does so.

"Oh wow," His jaw slacks open.

He admires your painting. Even though the two of you painted the same thing, yours is exponentially better. He loves how talented you are, and you never fail to impress him.

________________

When Mingyu comes home the next evening, he expects to see you. You're usually in the living room or the bedroom. He searches the house for you, checking every room to no avail.

He frowns. He saw your car parked out front, so he knows you're here.

A loud sound suddenly catches his attention. He makes his way toward the source of the sound, walking downstairs into the garage.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, racing to the aid of the bike.

You struggle to hold the heavy vehicle up as it remains tilted inside the garage. Your boyfriend saves the day, rushing to your side and helping you to lift the bike up to its proper stature.

"Sorry," You apologize quickly. "I swear I was being careful!"

Your words are muffled. He looks at you with confusion written over his face. You're wearing black leggings and a tight-fitting black zip up. It's unusual attire for you.

Not to mention his entirely large helmet is covering your head.

"What are you doing?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You say.

"What?" He asks.

You pull the oversized helmet off of your head and place it under your arm. You huff out.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You move your hair out of your face. "I was trying to surprise you."

"You hate bikes, babe," He lets out a breathy laugh, taking the helmet out of your hands.

"I've had a change of heart," You insist.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why so suddenly?"

"Well... I don't know. When we were painting it made me realize how much you've embraced my hobbies and stuff. I wanna embrace the stuff you like too," You explain. "So teach me.... please?"

Oh you're adorable, He thinks to himself.

"That's very sweet Y/n," He grins. "But it's okay."

You cross your arms over your body. "But.."

"If you really wanna get into my hobbies, we can find another one baby," He kisses your forehead. "But taking my bike is extremely dangerous and it's probably good that I caught you."

"I know," You say.

You lean against the bike, staring at the vehicle with a glint of sadness behind your eyes. You trace your fingers along the metal of the bike, admiring your boyfriend's precious vehicle.

He places the helmet down. "You know, if you wanna learn that bad, you should practice on the biker first."

It takes a second for his words to settle into your brain. You lean against the bike and raise an eyebrow. "Gyu?"

He walks closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in close. You can feel his breath fanning over your skin, causing goosebumps to raise. His lips press against the shell of your ear.

"Come upstairs," He whispers against your ear. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

You intertwine your fingers with his. He pulls your body back into the house and leads you upstairs.

"You're so cute," He smiles. He presses his lips to yours. "I love doing the things you love.... love you." He says between kisses.

He lifts you up and carries you into his bedroom. He places your body down on the bed and pulls off his shirt. His toned body is exposed, muscles bulging beneath his warm skin as he looks at you with hungry eyes.

His back meets the bed with a small thump and he pulls your body on top of him. Your hips meet his and he lets out a soft groan. You pull off your own shirt and drop it onto the ground. You grind against his hips slowly. He unzips your jacket and pulls it off your body.

His hand snakes around the back of your neck and he pulls you into a passionate kiss. He moans against your lips as you continue to grind against his hardening cock.

You can feel him growing beneath you. His cock swells in the confines of his jeans, causing you to moan as you grind down on his growing length. Heat rushes between your thighs and the aching need for pleasure grows in your body.

You pull away from the heated kiss and sit up. You pull your shirt over your head and Mingyu sits up too. He kisses up your stomach and continues to grind against you needily as you unhook your bra. You let it fall and his lips immediately travel to your breasts.

He holds you by your hips as his lips wrap around your nipple. He sucks on your skin, ensuring to give both your breasts the same amount of attention. Your skin burns at the feeling of his touch. Be it his lips on your chest or his hands on your waist, it ignites something in you.

But as much as you love it, you quickly grow impatient. You lift your hips and pull your underwear and leggings off in one go. You toss them and start undoing Mingyu's black jeans.

"C'mre," He says, pulling at your legs.

He lifts your legs and flips you over so he can taste you. He wraps your legs around his head and immediately starts sucking on your clit.

"Fuck.." You moan out.

Your grip on his jeans quickly grows weak as pleasure clouds your senses. You try to undo the buttons, but the feeling of his tongue on you is highly distracting.

He sucks on your clit, occasionally lapping his tongue through your folds. The pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach quickly. You're finding it difficult to do anything, squirming and grinding against his face.

He holds his hands on either side of your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. He moans against you, nearly enjoying it almost as much as you are.

You finally get him undressed and return the favor. You take his hard cock in your hand, stroking his length and spreading the precum from his leaking tip.

He moans against you again, allowing his eyes to fall shut as relief washes over him. He keeps his focus on you, pushing two of his fingers into your soaked hole.

You take his cock into your mouth, moaning around his length as you feel his fingers fill you up. He sucks your clit and his digits pump into you, and the vibrations from his moaning quickly have you nearing the edge.

His cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat as you stroke his length, bobbing your head to make him feel equally as good as you do.

You find down against his face with little to no coordination. Your hips move desperately, chasing your incoming orgasm as your saliva coats the entire length of his cock.

He curls his fingers into you and pumps them at a faster pace. His face is coated with your arousal and he slurps it up gladly, wrapping his lips around your clit and circling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You lift your head, crying out as your orgasm overwhelms you. You grind against his face and fingers as you cum, continuing to drip onto his face.

"Hah-shit," You moan out.

His cock still remains in the grip of your hand, leaking more precum as he tastes you on his tongue.

When you come down from your high, his hands are quickly on your body. He pulls your body flush against his, kissing you sloppily and needily.

He is so obsessed with you and everything about you. His hands wander along your skin, tracing over every inch of your body gently. He lays on his back, pulling you back on top of him without breaking the kiss.

You're the one to pull away, lifting your hips on his lap. He leans back, allowing you to take over.

You sink down onto his length, groaning at the stretch of his cock. He holds you by the hips, guiding you down on his cock. The warmth of your pussy envelopes him perfectly, dripping down his length as you accommodate his length.

"So good baby," He moans.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you sink down, only tightening as he fills you up bit by bit. You gasp out once your hips meet, feeling the entirety of his length inside of you.

"Fuck...holy fuck–" You grip the bedsheets.

You start moving your hips slowly, still getting used to the feeling of fullness. He's patient with you, guiding your hips with soft hands and gentle movements.

You start to pick up a steady rhythm, lifting your hips and sinking down onto his length. You roll your hips with each movement, allowing his cock to fill you up and reach deep into you.

It feels so fucking good.

He watches you with love and lust clouding his eyes. His gaze is locked in on you, admiring how beautiful you look right now. Your mouth hangs open as loud moans pass through your lips.

Your body is dripping with sweat and your tits are bouncing in his face every time you lift your hips and sink back down onto his length. The stretch of pussy is addictive, sending waves of pleasure through his cock and entire body.

He sits up, resting his hand on the small of your back. Your hands wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as your chests press together.

He lifts his hips, matching your pace as he fucks himself into you. You cry out, lips pressed against his shoulder. The feeling is intense and addictive and incredibly intimate.

His cheeks are flushed red and sweat glistens down his face and abs. His hair falls perfectly on his face and you can't help but admire him. His mouth remains in a small 'O' shape, allowing small moans and grunts and groans of pleasure to ring in your ears.

"Fuck baby," He moans. "I'm close."

His head tilts back, exposing his adam's apple to your line of sight. He continues to thrust into you, cock pressing against the sweet spot deep inside of you with every movement of his hips.

"Hah-me too," You pant.

The pleasure continues to grow, eventually overwhelming your entire body. You cry out and your body falls limp against him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning and breathing heavily as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy throbs, tightening around his length and bringing about his own orgasm. His hips still and his cock swells as he fills you with his load.

He lets out a long groan as he pumps his load into you. Your chests rise and fall in unison as you breathe heavily and come down from your orgasms. You lift your head and cup his cheeks with your soft hands.

His vision clears and his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a grin. "Hi baby."

You return his expression with a shy smile. "Hi Gyu."

He presses his forehead against yours and plants a kiss on your lips. "I love you, pretty girl."

"Love you more," You grin.

"Impossible," He smiles.

His hands hold your hips as he lifts you up. You wince at the emptiness and and lays you down on the bed. He presses a kiss onto your bellybutton and stands to his feet.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the bathwater running. He comes back a few minutes later and picks you up bridal style. You wrap your arms around him happily and he carries you to the tub. He slips into the warm water behind you, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and back.

"Baby," he says.

"Hmm?" You quirk up.

"We can take a ride tonight if you want, on the bike," He proposes. "Together."

You perk up. "Really?"

"Yeah, but you can't be scared," He grins.

"I'm not!"

He kisses your shoulder. "Okay baby, whatever you say. Just hold onto me tight and I won't let you fall and teach your a few things. Sound good?"

You tilts your head all the way back so your eyes meet his. You smile. "Okay. I love you Gyu."

"I love you too."

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #kpop

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darksturnz · 2 months ago

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HELPING HANDS . . . ?

CONTENTS:・smut-heavy plot ・star!reader ・artist!chris ・semi-public handjob..・substance use ・pet names used (baby a few times, kid like once) + more WC: 3.7k masterlist: here

the song for this is champagne coast by blood orange. it won’t let me link it. + this was rewritten like six times bare w me.

The night in Pine View was quiet, blanketed in a stillness that made the small town feel even smaller. The kind of night where the streetlights flickered faintly and the air carried the faint scent of distant woodsmoke. The trailer park sat on the edge of it all, surrounded by thick trees that swayed gently in the cool breeze. Somewhere far off, a dog barked, its sound lost to the crickets and the occasional hum of a passing car on the main road.

Chris leaned against the hood of his car, one foot propped up, a cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. Star stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her converse scuffing the gravel beneath her. She was watching the horizon, where the faint glow of the neighboring town’s lights blurred into the inky darkness. The blunt between her fingers had burned down to almost nothing, the ember glowing faintly before she let it fall and snuffed it out with her toe.

“You good?” Chris asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. It wasn’t loud, just enough to draw her attention. She looked at him, and for a moment, he thought she might lie. But instead, she shrugged.

“I guess,” she muttered, shivering slightly. “It’s just… feels heavy tonight I dunno.”

Chris nodded, taking another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground. He pushed off the car, closing the distance between them, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Come with me,” he said softly, his voice gentler than she expected.

She glanced up at him, her brows knitting together. “Where?”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head toward the car. “Just a drive. Clear your head. I’ll drive slow. You can even pick the music.”

“Chris…” she trailed off, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Y’know I hate cars.”

“I know,” he said quietly, stepping closer. His hand brushed against hers, and when she didn’t pull away, he took it, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. “But I’d never let anything happen to you, Star. You know that, right?”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to argue, to tell him she’d rather stay where it was safe, but something about the way he was looking at her—so soft, so patient—made her resolve falter.

“ m‘kay,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if I freak out—”

“I’ll pull over,” he promised, his hand squeezing hers. “I’ll stop the second you want me to.”

She nodded, and he opened the passenger door for her, holding it until she climbed in. The Tempest’s interior was warm, the faint scent of leather and Chris’s cologne filling the space as he slid into the driver’s seat. He turned the key, the engine rumbling to life, and reached over to rest his hand on her knee.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked again, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her jeans.

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I’m good.”

The car rolled out of the trailer park, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they hit the open road. Pine View at night was a mix of sprawling woods and quiet streets, the occasional porch light casting a faint glow against the shadows. The farther they drove, the more the town fell away, replaced by winding roads and tall trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky.

Chris reached for the radio, turning the dial until a soft, crackling tune filled the car. Star relaxed slightly, her head leaning against the window as she watched the trees blur by. He kept his hand on her knee, his fingers tracing small circles absentmindedly, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

The rain started as a light drizzle, the drops tapping against the windshield like a faint rhythm. But it didn’t stay light for long. Within minutes, the drizzle turned into a downpour, the kind of rain that swallowed the world whole, reducing everything beyond the headlights to a blurry mess. Star tensed, her breath hitching as the car’s tires hissed against the wet road.

“Chris,” she said, her voice tight. “I don’t like this.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hand leaving her knee to take hers. He laced their fingers together, his grip steady and reassuring. “I’m pullin’ over. It’s okay.”

He guided the car off the road and into an empty parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parked beneath the faint outline of a lamppost. The rain pounded against the roof, a steady roar that made the small space feel even more intimate. Chris shut off the engine but left the heater running, the warm air filling the car as he turned to face her.

“Better?” he asked softly, his hand still holding hers.

She nodded, but her hands were trembling slightly. “I just hate the sound of it even,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the rain.

“C’mere,” he said, his free hand reaching out to gently tug her closer. She hesitated for only a moment before sliding across the seat, her body pressed against his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his lips brushing against her temple in a soft kiss.

“See? You’re safe, I gotcha,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

They sat like that for a while, the rain creating a cocoon of sound around them. Chris’s hand rested on her hip now, his thumb tracing slow, soothing patterns against her side. Star’s head was tucked against his neck, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as she let his warmth ease the tension in her chest.

When she tilted her head up to look at him, the space between them felt impossibly small. His eyes met hers, dark and steady, and without thinking, she leaned in. The kiss was soft at first but Chris deepened it, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head.

Star shifted, climbing into his lap, her knees bracketing his thighs as the kiss grew more urgent. Chris’s seat was pushed all the way back, giving them just enough room, but the closeness still made her breath catch. His hands gripped her waist, his fingers pressing into her skin as her lips moved against his.

When they finally pulled apart, gasping for air, the windows were fogged, and the car felt suffocatingly warm. Star’s forehead rested against his, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.

“Fuck kid,” Chris murmured, his voice low and rough. She felt it then—the hard press of him against her thigh, impossible to ignore. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced down, her breath catching at the sight of him.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt.

Chris swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “No? Why do you keep asking that..M’fine promise,” he said, though his voice was strained. “You don’t—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her eyes meeting his. “Let me help.”

His breath hitched as her fingers moved lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans. She hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand underneath, her touch warm and deliberate.

“Fuck,” Chris sighed, his head falling back against the seat. Star’s fingers moved with a mix of hesitance and curiosity, her touch featherlight as she ventured further. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with the scent of rain and heated breaths. Chris’s head was tilted back against the seat, his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips slightly parted as if he were bracing himself against the pleasure that her tentative movements sent through him.

“You okay?” it was her turn to ask him, her voice barely audible over the drumming rain.

Chris opened his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, and met hers. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it was strained. “Yeah, ‘course baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like gravel. “Seriously you don’t have to, though. I don’t want you—”

“Chris,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “I want to.”

Her determination left him speechless, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Star’s fingers moved again, brushing against him in a way that made his hips jerk involuntarily. A soft groan escaped his lips, and she froze for a second, unsure if she’d gone too far.

“Sorry,” she murmured quickly, pulling back slightly.

“No—Don’t,” Chris rasped, his hand reaching up to cover hers. His palm was rough and warm, grounding her. “Don’t stop.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded, her confidence growing. She returned her focus to him, her fingers tracing the waistband of his jeans again before dipping beneath. The rough denim gave way to soft, heated skin, and she felt him inhale sharply at the contact. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t stop, didn’t falter. Chris deserved to feel good—she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Her hands life under his boxers, her finger tips grazing the silky skin of his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head tilting forward to press his lips against her shoulder. The light scrape of his teeth against her skin made her pulse race, but she tried to keep her focus. His hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingertips pressing into her in a way that was almost possessive.

He lifted his hips slightly, both of them fumbling to tug his jeans down, the air thick with tension and unspoken anticipation. The moment his cock sprang free, the tip glistening with pre-cum, Star’s tongue darted across her lips instinctively, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him.

The rain outside faded into the background, drowned out by the soft hum of the heater and the rhythmic thrum of her pulse in her ears. The windows fogged further, sealing them in their own private world. Star shifted slightly in his lap, her movement eliciting a low, guttural groan from Chris, his hips jerking involuntarily against her. The sound sent a jolt through her, a thrill that made her lips curl into a soft, almost nervous smile.

Chris’s hand wrapped around his length, stroking himself with slow, practiced movements. His lips parted, his head tilting back against the seat as a quiet sigh escaped him. Star watched, mesmerized, unable to tear her eyes away. She took in every detail—the way his wrist twisted slightly with each stroke, the way his thumb grazed the sensitive tip, smearing the clear liquid pooling there. There was something hypnotic about his ease, the way he seemed so lost in the moment yet entirely aware of her presence.

Before she realized what she was doing, her hand reached out, her soft fingers brushing against his. Chris hissed sharply at the contact, his eyes snapping open to meet hers. His gaze darkened, but he didn’t stop her, didn’t move away. Instead, he let his hand fall to the side, giving her control.

Star’s fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around him, her touch tentative at first, her movements experimental. His sharp inhale was enough to spur her on, and she adjusted her grip, her eyes flicking up to his face to gauge his reaction. Chris’s brows furrowed slightly each time she squeezed the base a little firmer than the tip, and she quickly memorized the pattern, repeating it until his breathing grew uneven.

“Yeah— …yeah, jus’ like that,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, almost a whisper. His hand settled gently on her thigh, a grounding touch, but he didn’t push her, didn’t rush her.

Encouraged, Star mirrored what she’d seen him do earlier, her thumb brushing over the slick head, collecting the pre-cum that had gathered there. Chris let out a quiet, broken moan, his head falling forward to rest against hers. The intimacy of it—the warmth of his breath against her cheek, the way his hands trembled slightly where they rested—sent a flush through her. She was learning, slowly but surely, what made him come undone, and she wanted to memorize every sound, every reaction, every detail of the way he unraveled beneath her touch.

“Fuck, Star,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain, but the way it broke at the edges made her shiver.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Chris let out a strained laugh, his head falling back against the seat as his eyes fluttered closed again. “Pretty, huh?” he managed, his voice tinged with amusement despite the situation.

“Shut up,” she said, her tone teasing, though her cheeks were burning. “Y’know what I mean.”

He opened his eyes again, the warmth in his gaze making her stomach flip. “Thank you,” he said softly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His touch lingered, his thumb grazing her cheek before he leaned up to kiss her again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and it stole the breath from her lungs.

Her hand stilled for a moment, and he let out a soft whine of protest against her lips, making her smile. “You’re bein’ impatient,” she teased, her voice breathless.

“Can you blame me?” he muttered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

Star laughed softly, the sound muffled against his mouth as she resumed her movements. Chris’s breath hitched, his hands tightening on her hips as he leaned his forehead against hers. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on her—the way he let himself be vulnerable with her, the way his voice cracked when he whispered her name, the way he held her like she was the only thing grounding him to the earth.

Her hand moved slowly, deliberately, as if she were piecing together a puzzle. She kept her eyes locked on Chris’s face, studying every flicker of his expression like it held the answers she needed. His jaw clenched and then relaxed with each stroke, his brows knitting together whenever her touch lingered at the tip. When she brushed her thumb over the sensitive slit again, his mouth fell open, a low, broken groan spilling out before he could stop it.

Her lips curled into a small smile at the sound, a mixture of pride and nerves swirling in her chest. She adjusted her grip, experimenting with her fingers, squeezing a little tighter around the base to see how he’d react. This time, the sharp hiss that escaped him wasn’t followed by a groan, but by his hand gently wrapping around her wrist.

“Not so tight,” he murmured, his voice soft but strained, as if even speaking was an effort. “You’ll—oh fuck—you’ll hurt me, baby.”

Star immediately froze, her eyes going wide as heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh— I’m sorry,” she stammered, pulling her hand back slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, hey,” Chris interrupted, his hand catching hers before she could fully pull away. His eyes met hers, dark and heavy with need, but there was nothing but warmth in his expression. “You’re doin’ so good.“

“But I—”

“You’re perfect,” he cut her off, his words tumbling out in a rushed, breathless whisper. “So fuckin’ perfect, Star. Just—just go a little softer, yeah?”

She nodded, swallowing hard as her fingers returned to him, her touch gentler this time. He exhaled a shaky breath, his hips lifting slightly as she resumed her movements. The tension in his body melted back into pleasure, his head falling against the seat, his lips parting as a soft, desperate whimper escaped him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “keep doin’ it like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, Star leaned in closer, her breath brushing against his neck as she tried to find a rhythm that made him fall apart. Every time his head tipped back or his mouth opened in a gasp, she filed it away, repeating the motions until the car was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing and the soft, wet noises of her hand moving against him.

“Y’sure I’m doin’ it okay?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a mix of nerves and curiosity. She wanted to be sure, needed to hear it from him.

Chris’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded and glassy as he looked at her. “Yeah,” he breathed, his voice shaking, “..yes—yeah. more than okay. You’re perfect—so fuckin’ perfect. Y’got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

The raw honesty in his voice made her chest tighten, a new kind of confidence surging through her. She adjusted her grip again, following the pattern she knew worked, and was rewarded with another choked moan from him. His hands gripped her thighs now, his fingers digging into her jeans as if he needed something to ground himself.

“Star,” he groaned, his head falling forward as his lips brushed against her temple. His breath was hot and uneven against her skin, his voice barely audible but filled with so much need it made her pulse race. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Star couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of her, her cheeks still flushed as she kept her focus on him. She wanted to keep pushing, to see just how far she could take him, and the way his body responded to her touch only made her more determined. Every whimper, every groan, every strained “fuck” that slipped from his lips felt like a victory, and she wanted to collect them all.

The way his body started to react beneath her touch was impossible to ignore. Chris was trembling now, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts, his hips twitching upward against her hand as if he couldn’t control it. His fingers gripped her hip tightly, so tightly she was certain there’d be marks tomorrow, but she didn’t mind. If anything, it thrilled her—proof of just how much she was affecting him.

“Oh—,” he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with urgency. “y/n, you gotta stop— m’so close. If you don’t stop, it’s gonna get everywhere.”

She could tell he meant it, could feel it in the way he pulsed in her hand, but instead of listening, she leaned forward, her lips capturing his in a deep, heated kiss. His warning melted into a choked moan against her mouth, his body tensing as he finally let go. Chris’s hands gripped her hips even tighter as he came, hot and messy against her hand and her shirt. She felt the warmth seep through the fabric, but she didn’t pull away, instead focusing on keeping him steady as he unraveled beneath her.

When the moment passed and Chris finally caught his breath, his head fell back against the seat, his eyes fluttering open to look at her. The realization of what had just happened hit him, and his cheeks flushed slightly, a rare vulnerability shining through as he mumbled, “Shit, see look at your shirt…”

Star glanced down at the mess, the white fabric stained, and shrugged sheepishly. “ It’s okay! Basically payback,” she said with a small grin, her tone teasing. “For when I ‘ruined your pants’ remember?”

Chris huffed out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched her tug the shirt off without hesitation. His breath hitched slightly at the sight of her bare skin, the soft lace of her bra framing her chest in a way that made his mouth go dry. He didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes lingered, taking her in like she was a masterpiece he’d never get tired of admiring.

“You’re starin’ at me” She said as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he admitted shamelessly, his voice rough. His hand reached out, brushing softly over the lace. “This—my god star, this looks so pretty on you.”

Her blush deepened, and she quickly climbed back over to the passenger seat, awkward and shirtless, trying not to meet his gaze. Chris chuckled softly at her flustered movements, using her discarded shirt to clean himself up before pulling his pants back on. Once he was decent again, he shrugged off his hoodie, leaning over to drape it gently over her shoulders.

“Here,” he murmured, the scent of his cologne and the faint trace of weed enveloping her immediately. “I’ll get you another shirt at home.”

Star tugged the hoodie on, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame, and the comforting scent eased the nerves that had begun to bubble in her chest. Chris noticed the way her hands fidgeted in the sleeves, her gaze flicking out the window as if she were trying to distract herself.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching over to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. “You feelin’ okay?”

She nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yeah. Just… processing, I guess.”

He smiled gently, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You were amazing, baby.”

His words, paired with the sincerity in his tone, made her chest warm. He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on her knee as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw. The gentleness of his touch, the way he held her like she was something precious, calmed her in a way she hadn’t expected.

The two of them sat in the warmth of the car, the rain still falling lightly outside as they caught their breath. Chris traced idle patterns on the fogged-up window, and Star followed his lead, her fingers sketching stars and moons into the condensation. She glanced over at his work, an intricate cross taking shape beneath his hand, and huffed out a laugh.

“You couldn’t even pretend to be ass?” she teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

Chris turned to her with a playful shrug, his eyes glinting with gentle affection. “Think yours is perfect, personally,” he said simply, his voice soft.

Her cheeks warmed again, but she smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder as the rain finally began to ease. The world outside the car seemed to come back into focus, the storm clearing to reveal a quiet, damp night.

“You’re a corny idiot after you orgasm”

“Right ‘cause you’re one to speak” He snorts softly, starting the car, the heater still running as he pulled out of the parking lot, driving slow like he’d promised.

His hand found hers again, their fingers lacing together as the familiar roads of Pine View came into view. Neither of them spoke much on the way back, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, filled with the quiet hum of the engine and eventually her soft snores as she fell asleep in passenger seat. The act itself said more about her trust in Chris than her words ever could.

AUTHORS NOTE: writing smut will be my downfall. i’m so bad at it i need tips PLEASE!

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl @sturnslutz @sturniqlo @sofieeeeex @jadasmp4 @ncm9696 @courta13

(just ask to be added/removed!)

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 3 months ago

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Naive - L.C

💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 💡What: Best friends to ??? Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (please check warnings). 18+ 💡Word count: 11.5k 💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.

Summary: Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better. Right?

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.

“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.

“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.

“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”

“A-asshole is too kind.”

Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.

Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”, which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.

At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.

It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.

“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.

“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.

It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store, yet easily move on past without looking back.

Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.

“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”

“I hate it when you say that” you remind and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.

“I know, why do you think I say it?” He cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod after taking his body in once more and turning away.

“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” He murmurs from suddenly behind you with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” He sings loudly, just to annoy you.

“Why are we best friends again?”

“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.

Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.

You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker, yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.

It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.

Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.

You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.

Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree but he was always well rested and tidy, but now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; he even doesn’t attempt to touch you or get in your personal space.

Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.

“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”

Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic; still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.

“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”

“Right, how is he?”

“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” You question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.

It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.

You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were.

Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.

“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago. You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again.

Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.

“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”

“You live alone and don’t share your car.”

“I know!” He exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.

“Then only you could’ve put them there.”

“No, no, I didn’t though,” he steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”

The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.

Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.

“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.

“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I have you?” He asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.

“There were photos of me too,” you answer.

“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”

“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”

“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean, there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear; so if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”

You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.

He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.

At least, you thought he was.

Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big puppy dog eyes.

“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”

“Right,” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh, yet nods resignedly and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”

“What?” You whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”

“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”

“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.

“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I meant the lobby and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating.

He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.

But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”

“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.

“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”

“He said he didn’t do it-” Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off.

“Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”

“Because…he looked honest.”

Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”

You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open; big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.

You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.

“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”

“My TV?” You sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.

Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.

“No! Stop it!” You giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”

“Just tell me what you’re doing!” He replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.

“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”

“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”

“No!” You gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.

“Shit, are you okay?” He worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Doctor Channie see.”

“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.

“What? I’d be great!” He defends, pouting at you offendedly.

“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”

“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”

“Urethra.”

“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”

“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.

“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” You tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.

“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

“Mm, so, are you consenting to Doctor Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”

“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”

“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” You whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.

“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” He whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.

“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”

“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.

When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.

You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and her can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him, even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.

Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”

“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”

Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.

When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road.

It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.

And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.

So, you wait.

“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”

“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.

He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.

“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store bought cake ever could.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”

“Do I smell?” You mumble against his shoulder.

“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”

“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”

“You do it to me all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.

Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.

What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.

“Chan?” You call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.

“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on, Channie?” You ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.

“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.

“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” You ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.

The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago and the windows were blacked out so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.

“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”

“Sexual crimes?” You whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”

“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”

“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly, so you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”

“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”

“He’s in a hospital bed!” You baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”

“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”

“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”

“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

“Yes ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Yes ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”

“My bedroom…” You can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.

“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.

“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.

Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths; big inhale, hold, slow exhale.

You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count the past year.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your head. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”

There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa, before he turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their low murmuring voices.

Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.

You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.

Or maybe not.

If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.

You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never truly know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You truly had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.

But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.

“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn your head to watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.

“Was it my room?” You ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.

Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”

“Should-should I have reported him then?” You wonder, suddenly worried that you had potentially endangered women by not stepping up.

“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you.

You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you.

Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.

The news comes only a few days later.

It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.

If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.

When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up; at least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations which a part of you still can’t believe are true.

What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.

“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.

“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.

It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”

“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.

It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.

Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan; he always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent but for the meaning.

One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.

Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.

But sometimes there’s other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.

And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.

You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning and it throws you for a loop.

“Did they put in the wrong flower?” You ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.

“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”

Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.

“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.

“Joy of life?” You offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.

“No.”

“Well it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”

“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”

“What?”

He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” He murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”

It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it; he kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.

You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.

The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter; his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.

Of course, a kiss that passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his.

Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”

“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”

“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended and the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”

“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.

After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.

Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.

What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.

You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.

There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over; you’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.

As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.

You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.

Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.

You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.

Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.

“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner; I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”

“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.

“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.

“Oh, I guess I misread this,” he smiles embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”

“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”

“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”

“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”

“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.

“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”

“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”

“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”

“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me and I’ll be here for you all the same.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you; I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will,” a flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”

At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.

After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.

Maybe that’s why one day when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks, which Chan supplied for the stargazing session, contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.

“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.

“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie,” you start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”

“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.

Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”

You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.

“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.

It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high pitched sound is all you can hear.

You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.

It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company until suddenly, it leaves.

There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.

Everything comes back to you all at once.

Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.

Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way; even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.

“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”

After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are; the walls look wooden and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.

He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.

There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall, which the right side of the bed is pushed against; the window is cracked open, letting in fresh air but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft orange glow. And nothing else.

Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back and forth, back and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.

For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This is not the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This is not the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.

Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.

This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting; something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.

For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.

“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” You stammer.

“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married,” he huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.

He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.

“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you,” he points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.

Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.

“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”

“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Oh, angel!” He exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”

For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again; the Chan you fell in love with, the Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.

“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you, I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.

It’s only now that you realise he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this; he looks older this way, less playful.

It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.

“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” He comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.

It scares the shit out of you.

“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”

“What did you do?” You whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships have failed.

Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.

“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me,” he laughs darkly and pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record and respect and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road,” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.

“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.

Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again, his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”

You feel sick to your stomach.

It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far; I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”

Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.

“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”

He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.

“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.”

He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.

You’re stuck here.

Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.

The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying; out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.

You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.

But you know you don’t have a choice. You’re his now, to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life goes.

The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”

As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.

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