#stop mistaking the desire for thinness with the desire to become a man this is literally an Anorexia thing that breached containment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belokhvostikova · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Tuesday was the development between you and Eddie Munson. Wednesday, peace finally seems plausible for the two hurt kids, and understanding becomes a valued aspect.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, implications to verbal abuse, self deprecating thought, mentions of anxiety, bulling, parent abandonment, domestic abuse, and childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've gone back to all my posts and tagged everyone for the tag list. Literally. If you commented, I tagged you. If you reblogged and remotely mentioned you wanted more, I tagged you. If you were not looking to be tagged, please let me know so I can remove you. Also, I sincerely apologize to anyone who I've accidently been excluding from the tag list, that was my mistake.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲

There was no investment in moral quandary for him. Logicality. Everything had to be logical under the guise that all faults of the world had been facilitated by the emission of emotions that tainted the globe.

Feelings were wrong. Sentiment was wrong. Empathy was wrong.

He believed it was such vulnerability that led to the downfall of his life- not that he’d ever verbally admit his life had crumbled right in front of him, but a pit within the deepest tunnel of his consciousness recognized it. Drilled it. Cemented it. He had chosen to blame the emotions of amenability for the reason why his wife came home at four in the morning with the familiar scent of the neighbor’s cologne. From there, he knew to get rid of it. Emotions. So when you sobbed, asking why mommy hadn’t been home for a couple of days, he said it was not worth crying over. When you had to stand in court upon a scary looking man in a robe and hear mommy agree to only seeing you every other weekend, he said to not worry and suck it up. And when mommy stopped picking up calls and seemingly “forgot” it was her day to see you, he said to get over it. But maybe it wasn’t too bad, right? He always said to be grateful that, at least, he stuck around. At the minimum, he always provided good take-out often, though you were quick to realize it was because he had no desire to cook for you. But, hey, he had always let you watch TV during dinner. Granted, it was because he never sat with you, and chose the comfort of the living room couch, where you could always see the history channel playing from the archway of the dining room where you sat lonely. It was then, you got a deep understanding of the Civil War. And at least his stoicism permitted a great hatred for the presuppositionalism that had infiltrated Hawkins, Indiana. That was good, right? Though, you were never one to define metaethics through divine revelation, so it kinda didn’t matter. But it could be worse. He always said he could be worse. That his choice to deprive you from any physical harm was somehow enough to garner him some merit as a parent.

And maybe that was one of the underlying reasons as to why Eddie Munson scared you so much. He was like your father. And your father scared you.

Mid week. The morning of spring Wednesday had been a groggily dawn of humidity and fog. Though no weather circumstance could derail the perfected routine of your father’s morning. Wake up, shower, brush teeth, make coffee. Black, no sugar. The bitterer, the better. Because that was by true definition strong.

It was like clockwork. Every morning. Because routine leads to success, he's ingrained. It was the only reason why every summer break since you were a child he had you waking up before sunrise with intentions of appearing downstairs for two hours of study time with a tutor he spent hours meticulously searching for that fit his standards. One with saggy cheeks, thin eyebrows, a thick accent, and a bad habit of reprimanding you with a smack of a ruler whenever you humanly made a mistake. The worst thing that could happen in his eyes was watching his daughter slack because of relaxation over summer. Especially after he programmed you into perfection.

But the unthinkable had occurred, and his routine was interrupted.

Between 6:30 a.m and 6:45 a.m, your father was set—like everyday—to retrieve the morning paper, sit down, set the timer, and complete the crossword puzzle. Ten minutes. Nothing more.

But by 6:33 a.m, Eddie Munson was nearly murdered by your father.

Oh, his girl. Of course, there was his sweetheart, Eddie was damn near devoted to that warlock, but then there was his girl. Definitely not the everloving relationship he had with his sweetheart, I mean, he touched her, and the harmonious sounds from her strings could elevate the pain of his mind, but there was still no doubt that a sentimental part of his heart was dedicated to his girl. Rusted and cranking, the old van had been gifted to the young man after countless hours committed to Harry’s Auto Shop over the summer. And though her imperfections nearly had him pulling the roots of his hair out of his head weekly, she still managed to get him from point A to point B—not to mention, she looked totally sick and provided the best comfort place to spark up a joint or spend time with a pretty boy or girl whenever the opportunity came (it never did).

But besides that, the moral of the story is his van, his girl, was deeply cared for.

Except for the occasions of last night.

Because right now, your father was wrinkling the informative pages of the daily news with a tight grip of pure seethe, because some dirty, gross van had parked over the curb of his property and ruined the pristine, clean-cut, green lawn with muddy tire tracks.

You had heard it all.

The blaring alarm at 5:45 a.m, the running shower from your father’s bathroom, and the heavy steps of his feet descend into the kitchen.

Exhaustion couldn’t fathom the ache of your body, as the fluffy duvet beneath you held no substance to the stiffening floor underneath. Not to mention, the heavy sorrow of the events that had only occurred a couple hours prior were relying heavy in your mind, prompting the loss of true sleep, made only worse when Eddie’s drunken snores were echoing as a constant reminder that he was right there.

Eddie Munson was in your bed- Eddie Munson was in your bed!

The ever so slight glimmer of the awakening sun was bleeding upon his sleeping figure, almost dead with no movement. He hadn’t shifted an arm or a leg, mouth still agape from his roaring slumber with a puddle of drool staining your satin pillow. You’d timidly approached the edge of your bed, knees scraping along the rough floor to reach his peaceful face. The disheveled bangs of his forehead had crumpled against themselves, shielding him from the oozing light through your window.

This was the calmest Eddie Munson had been in weeks.

No lumps in the mattress, an actual comforter, the pungent stank of his cigarettes now replaced with the captivating vanilla scent of your perfume, which eased him into a comfortable sleep and an all too real dream where you were in his arms. It felt scaringly natural.

There was a part of you that didn’t want to wake him. Whether it was because you could take an hour studying his pretty face, which led you to wondering how anyone could even fathom being so nasty to something so beautiful, or whether it was because that childhood anger and nestling vexation against a world that hated him was still deeply residing within Eddie, and you could easily fall victim to such hatred. It happened before, it could happen again.

You rested your head against your bed, a slight alleviation to the malaise of the floor, and let his warm breathing fan across your face. The tips of your fingers benevolently stroked the unruly strands of his bangs away, to reveal the fluttering eyes of his face. You wondered what he could be dreaming of.

You.

You were all he could think of. Awake and asleep.

“Eddie.” You softly whispered. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best choice given his hangover coma, but Eddie needed gentleness. “Hey, wake up.” You shook his shoulder. A pained groan prolonged far longer than you expected, as his face scrunched in a wince of a pounding headache. “Are you okay?”

That was too real for any dream. Eddie’s dry eyes snapped at the sound of your saccharine voice, suddenly realizing the devastating events that occurred last night. “Sh-shit!” He attempted to sit up, but your hand held his arm back.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You cooed, as he peered around frantically confused. He cracked his neck with a sharp turn, and his big eyes landed on you; once again, comforting him, as though he hadn’t put you through hell in the mere days he’s communicated with you.

His head fervently began shaking, as if to reject all that he’d done, as if everything he ever did you to was just a nightmare of his own fears, that he didn’t do what he did. But he did. And his eyes started welling up. “I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He choked. “For everything, I didn’t- I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Shh, Eddie-”

“I don’t want to scare you, and I’m s-sorry for doing it in the first place, I’m so so fucking so-”

“Eddie, just lay down, it’s okay.” You attempted to ease into him, as you lowered him down, his begrudgement leaving him hesitating until his back was flat against your bed.

Once relaxed, it seemed his body and mind gave up on the restraints of his emotions, and his stream of tears came pouring with all dejection and regret of how everything had played out between you two. Eddie Munson hated himself. Hated who he was. Someone set up for the failures of life, he rejected anything that could steer him from a path of love and acceptance. And he hated that. He hated the life he had. At any given opportunity to go back in time, he would scream at his father, hit his father, just get him and his mother away from his father so that he could just grow up to be a normal person. A normal person, who could process their emotions and not deduce themselves into a nihilistic asshole. A normal person, who wouldn’t degrade the only person who’s held him without hurting him. A normal person, who would love you and cherish you as you deserved. Yet Eddie Munson hated his life and hated any momentous occasion that could possibly diminish the pain of life… like you. Because good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, and you held so much power to hurt him.

Seeing his palms stab into his eyes, you gently held his trembling wrist to relieve him from the pain he believed he deserved. “Come on, Eddie, please stop.” You softly spoke trying to ease his hands away from his face. “Everything is okay, I promise.”

“N-no, it’s not!”

“Shh!” You rushed out. “My dad’s awake downstairs.” You whispered.

“S-sorry.” He spoke so meekly, as his hands cleaned the staggering wetness of his eyes and cheeks.

The atmosphere between you both fell stagnantly silent, as he tried to control his breathing through the tiny sniffles of his nose. He felt you staring, eyes boring into the side of his head, as he peered up at the dark ceiling. He couldn’t stand to look at you right now. He had just drunkenly sobbed and was now blubbering like a child, because of all the bullshit he just put you through. He was a-fucking-shamed. Ashamed of all he’s done. Ashamed of who he was. And you were seeing the worst of it.

“Eddie.” He closed his eyes and shook his head no. “Please.”

He slowly turned his head and met your tired yet so fucking beautiful face. God, he could stare at you forever. How could he do this to you? Put you through off of that, just because he was scared. He fucking hated himself, and you could so clearly see the despise against himself in his saddened eyes. I’m sorry I am the way that I am, I’m sorry you have to put up with me, I’m sorry I’m here ruining your life. He didn’t have to say it, it was engraved on his face.

His heart almost lunged out of his chest when you crept closer, noses nearly touching, as your eyes engulfed him with a meaningful stare. “I’m really glad you came.”

“What?” You truly couldn’t have been, but your head nodded with the soothing confirmation he needed.

“Yeah, I am.” You whispered.

“You shouldn’t be.” He whispered. “What I did was awful.”

“I know.” You sighed. “I know, and please don’t ever do that again. But I’m still glad you came. Glad that we talked. Glad that I got to understand.”

“I wish I told you sooner… and better.” He pinched his eyes closed at the haunting memory. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you, I’m so fucking sorry I did.”

“I know you are.” There was no “it’s fine” or forgiveness to offer, because he truly did cross a line that terrified you. But you could accept his understanding of the wrongdoing he did. Because acknowledgement was a valuable step in moving forward.

“I just- Y/N, I just really want to be with you.” There it was. He was putting himself out there once and for all, risking it, because you deserved to know. The torment of his emotional unavailability was ending, because he was ready to face the adversity of his trauma to make you happy. But that was exactly the issue. You could see he was ready to do it for you. Not himself. And whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson would not magically dissolve the underlying issue within both of you under the guise that you both got together and skipped away into the sunset happily ever after. Reality was a harsh slap in the face, and you knew he’d hate it, but it was what was needed.

“I just want you to be okay, Eddie.” You confided with a heavy bite of your lip. “I… want to be okay, Eddie.”

His eyes were glossing with threatening tears again. He knew what was coming. “You don’t wanna be with me.” He murmured. It was no question, but a simple truth he had to face.

“No.” You spoke with deep conviction. “I don’t want to be with the person you are right now. I can’t be. Not now. It wouldn’t be right, and I just want us to be okay.” You brushed his bangs away. His lips began trembling, but he accepted your boundaries with a vehement nod to his head to let you know he understood. “Eddie,” you punctuated so it became cemented, “I don’t want you to do this again-”

“I won’t, I swear, I won’t drink-”

“No, Eddie… I don’t want you coming here. To my house. To see me.” You sighed, as his eyes desperately scanned your face for the off chance you’d say you were kidding and you wanted him over all the time. But your words continued.

“I’m really fucking sorr-”

“I know you are, Eddie. I know.” A heavy breath from your chest escaped. “But I need time, and it may not seem like it now, but you need time, too. So I don’t want you calling. I don’t want you asking anyone where I am or how to talk to me. Not Chrissy, not anyone. Promise me.”

He agreed.

But Eddie Munson would break this promise. Not for some drunken, overbearing, emotional reason, though. But for good reason. All because your bedroom door slammed open.

Synchronized through driven fear, yours and Eddie’s head snapped at the sudden bust of your bedroom door, where your father stood effervesce with indignation of pure enragement at the sight of Eddie in your bed.

“Get out of my house!”

“Dad, wait!”

Your words were not of care to your dad, as he shoved you onto the ground with a shriek of horror escaping your lungs, as he charged himself onto your bed. The shot of adrenaline had coursed out any inebriations from the night before, as Eddie went against the swelling pounding of his head to jump from the comfort of your sheets and tumble onto the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Imprinted with the mud of his shoes, the pool of his drool, and now crumbled under the heavy weight of your father’s fall, the sanctity of your bed—the only thing that had caressed you through the hardships of your life, where you found solace in the safety of its soft cotton and silk, where your mother once cuddled you to sleep as she spoke of the future, I’m gonna lay your pretty prom dress right on the bed and watch you become so beautiful for your special night, where you cried yourself to sleep for countless night because she left you and she didn’t actually want to see you become so beautiful for your special night—had demised under the ruins of men who made you bawl your eyes out and made you feel so little about yourself. And maybe your bed being derelict was a cursory occasion to cry over, maybe it wasn’t; nonetheless, your eyes began to brim with the flooding tears of the overstimulated stress of an exhausted mind, dry eyes, and a splitting heart.

“Please stop.” Too quiet and airy for any big, angry, men to hear.

Because big, angry, men don’t care for the aching pain of the people they hurt.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” Eddie stumbled onto wobbly feet, planting the palms of his hands to stand himself away from your reaching father. “M’so fuckin’ sorry!” At that point, the directions of his words were either targeted to you or your father, you couldn’t decipher, and truthfully, you didn’t care to decipher.

Your father managed to unravel himself from the hold of your blankets, stepping off with heavy stomps to follow Eddie around your room. “You better get out of my fucking house, I’m fucking calling the cops! How dare you fucking touch my daughter?!”

“Dad, please.” Weak, broken, unheard.

“I fuckin’ didn’t!” Eddie was fortunate enough to spot his beloved jacket, snatching it from the confines of your desk chair, where he was able to roll it out as an obstruction to your father’s determined path of strangling Eddie Munson.

Because in the mind of a relentless resolute driven by all the wrong ideas because of the pain he so adamantly refused the face, Eddie Munson was the cause of your ultimate failure. Eddie Munson manipulated his daughter. Eddie Munson got his daughter suspended. Eddie Munson would be the reason your failure tainted the family name.

Eddie pummeled through your door, coming face-to-face with the extravagant expanse of your home. Cold. Everything was freezing cold, from the temperature to the decoration. Deprived from any signs of life. As if it was a museum. His bulging eyes found the large staircase, and it truly amazed him how his feet found every step without thought, simply autopilot. There was a yanking urge that was demanding him to go back. Go back for you. Make sure you were okay. Make sure to clean your tears up. Once again, he was making you cry. Maybe not entirely his fault, but his being was partaking in your agony and he fucking hated himself for it. But the weighing steps of her father marching right on his ass prompted him to move forward. Your front door was swung carelessly, welcoming the hot air of the burning morning, where once again, the clean cut grass of the manicured lawn was falling victim to Eddie’s destruction of mucky shoes. Maybe drinking hadn’t been too bad of an idea—it absolutely was—as Eddie’s drunken state, at nine at night, had left his keys impaled into the ignition ready to go.

The haggard van erupted to life, Eddie had never been so grateful to hear the god awful clunk that definitely needed to be checked out. Peer out once more, your wrathful father ran with a tirade of curses that condemned Eddie Munson back to hell, but the screech of his reversing tires interrupted his polemic. “Don’t you ever come back! You’ll be dead before your kind can even step foot into my fucking neighborhood!”

Eddie Munson would return back in eighteen hours.

“There’s an old man sitting next to me…” Wayne softly chuckled, as the lyrics had been repeating out of his mouth for the entirety of his shift, after Rodney Nickelvich decided to play the voice of Billy Joel during break.

It’d been a particularly difficult shift. His back wasn’t getting any younger, and the evident ache that decided to settle in the lower region was making it known. But the stiffness of his folding bed would alleviate enough, at least until his next shift. But that never came for Wayne Munson. Because the second—the literal second—his head managed to even briefly skim his flat pillow, the presence of his caterwauling nephew combusted through their front door with no regards for the tired old man in the living room. Eddie hadn’t even looked his way. A straight B-line to the phone.

“And where the hell have you been?” Wayne groaned with prostration. “Comin’ in here like you own the place, have you lost your mind, boy?”

But there was no answer.

Where Eddie would have normally spoken back with a clear answer of respect, there was nothing. No acknowledgement.

“Ed.”

Already engraved into his mind like the chords to his guitar, Eddie punched the buttons to your number on the yellow phone. But then he stopped. “I need the time… I don’t want you calling.” But this was bigger than that, right? He needed to know you were okay. “Please don’t hate me.” He scrunched his brows in the burning pain of betraying your boundaries. Once again. His finger dialed the rest of the numbers.

But it was dead. Not a ring. Not a buzz. Not a single indication that your phone was even ringing. Just a deadline. And Eddie’s heart sank to the deepest pit in his stomach. “Fuck!”

“Eddie.” Wayne’s face etched with concern. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

Eddie’s chest began hyperventilating with worry for you. “I-I… shit, I-uh… I really gotta get to school.”

Wayne sat up, now. Never in the decade he’s been in the care of Eddie Munson had that boy ever rushed out to get to school. Something was deeply wrong. But he couldn’t even hurtle a question of scrutiny, as Eddie had already slammed the door shut with his being gone, so deeply perturbed.

Eddie was truly pissed off at this point.

The entire proposition of arriving early to school was to find Chrissy Cunningham, but just as it occurred yesterday afternoon, the cheerleader was nowhere to be seen in the breadth of Hawkins High. He knew he was going against your wishes, quite specifically, but his heart and mind couldn’t fathom the possible danger you could be subjected to. He had too. Right? Would you just hate him more for interfering? God, he was shooting himself over the complication he construed the entire situation to become. Asking his friends had quickly been classified as the most imbecilic measure he’d ever succumb to, as those guys had never found the courage to conjure up an idea to jump start an actual conversation with an actual girl. Knowing where the head cheerleader was was beyond their source of knowledge. Yesterday’s clothes, dry mouth, red eyes, the residing ache of his hangover still tormenting his sore limbs, and now having no comprehension of whether or not you were safe at the aggressive hands of your father, Eddie was about to traject the heaviest waterfall of beer and bile onto the grimy floors of Mr. Hall’s carpentry class. But the shrieking bell unexpectedly pacified the turbulence brewing in his belly, and he was shoving passed visibly annoyed bodies to reach the cafeteria. His only chance.

His overloaded mind didn’t even process the trouble he was walking into, but unwavering was Eddie Munson as he marched into the bustling cafeteria of crackling students and cardboard food, legs pushing him to the table. “Chrissy!” Heads snapped like automated robots. Yeah, he probably should have thought this out. Glares couldn’t even amount to the looks he was receiving from the highest of Hawkins High. This was no laughing matter, but the urge to not laugh at Jason Carver’s battered face left all self control out of Eddie, as the perfect comb-over paired with the purple swollen skin personified the magnificence of juxtapositions.

“You want something, freak?” Jason stood with a puffed chest.

“Look a little different, Carver, that new?” Eddie gestured to the contuse skin, smirking oleaginously. As if it was previously discussed, Andy McAvoy and Chance Williams stood to defend the precious honor of their friend. In Eddie’s mind, it pleased him to know a conversation of protection was ordered by Jason to his goons to preserve any remaining prettiness of his face. Prom was coming up. “Relax, I didn’t say your names, did I?”

Eddie and Jason’s gaze looked down upon Chrissy, who’s brows were cinched with confusion and worry as to what was going to occur. Jason could only snicker incredulously. “She’s not speaking to you! You really think I’m gonna leave her with some devil worshiper like you? Why don’t you do this whole town a favor and fuck off with the circus, fucking basketcase.”

But Eddie was indefatigable to the insults of the perfectly pristine. They’d been propelled since childhood, the last thing to strike his ego would be the dense words of Jason fucking Carver. Eddie had bigger issues at hand.

“That’s really cute, Carver, but she can make her own decisions, and right now,” Eddie locked eyes with a frantic Chrissy Cunningham, “we have something important to talk about.” It was imperative for Chrissy to understand, and the moment her eyes softened, a breath of relief escaped Eddie at her understanding. Your name was oozing importance.

“Are you that fucking insane-”

“Jason,” Chrissy held his hand, “h-he’s right.”

“What?!”

A disgustingly pompous smile eased onto Eddie’s face.

“It’s, uh, it’s for, um, Mrs. Durberry.” Chrissy nodded. “I-I have to, uh, tutor Eddie. We, um, we discussed it yesterday during, uh, lunch. Yeah, during lunch!”

“During lunch.” Eddie smirked with a condescending nod.

Jason huffed through flared nostrils, bending down to look Chrissy right in the eye. Though whispered in secrecy, Eddie rolled his eyes with agitation. “Are you sure about this? Is he just making you do this?”

“No, I promise.” Chrissy assured. “You know I aced chemistry, Mrs. Durberry is just trying to give me an opportunity to get community service hours, and tutoring was the perfect chance. You know it’ll look good for college applications.”

The lie was good enough to believe- not good enough to like, but good enough to believe, and that’s all Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham needed. Jason sat down in defeat, the other players following in unison, as Chrissy gathered her items. “You try anything, Munson, and you're dead.” Jason pointed with a stern finger.

Chrissy had quickly walked by, hoping Eddie would just follow, but of course, he couldn’t leave without the last word. “Right, right,” he slyly smiled, “might wanna put some ice on that, s’looking a little nasty. Who did that to you again?”

“Eddie.” Chrissy chastised.

Now, it was most abundantly clear that Chrissy Cunningham was not an indictment of the American education system, her grades almost as perfect as yours—though no one could come close to your precociousness—yet Eddie had to reevaluate his beliefs when Chrissy was marching vastly farther than anticipated.

“Jesus Christ, Chris, y’know we don’t actually have to intrude Durberry’s class? She fucking hates me.” Eddie giggled. “‘Specially after I used the bunsen burner to light a joint. Kept asking “what’s that smell” for a week.”

Chrissy finally came to a halt after turning into another empty hall. “Sorry.” She sighed. “Just can’t have Jason following us.”

“Y’know, you could probably do better than some control freak who follows you around.” Eddie shrugged.

Chrissy blinked at her shoes in contemplation. Eddie hadn’t expected the words to hit so deeply, a mere critique to the numerous problems he found in Jason Carver, but nonetheless, the cheerleader got extremely quiet, before shaking her head to get back to the point.

“A-anyways, um, what is it that you, uh, wanted?” She rushed out.

“Oh! Right, um, I need you to go to Y/N’s house.” His eyes widened, as his lips tightened between his mouth. He knew it was outrageous to ask.

“W-what?”

“Look, I know that’s a big ask-”

“I already gave you her number and address, why don’t you g-”

“I did!” He heaved. “I fucking did, and I messed up!”

Chrissy slumped,“Again?!”

Eddie winced. Again, again, again, again, again.

“Look, I “made” it to her house, and we got to talk. But her fucking dad caught me in her room, and just went haywire on me. Practically chased me out.” Eddie stressed. “And I-I tried to call her to make sure she was okay, I mean, it’d been a long night and she was crying when I left, and, fuck, Chris, I don’t know what her dad is capable of.” Is he like my dad? “Her line was dead when I tried, like off the hook, and I can’t go over to make sure she’s safe, Chrissy. I have to make sure she’s okay. Can you please just, I don’t know, do this for me, I’m fucking helpless here, I’m…” Helpless to my mother.

Chrissy was taken aback by the pure fear in his eyes as he rambled into oblivion. She knew you. She knew your father. She could only imagine how ballistic he’s gone in the past couple of days knowing what’s happened. “Okay, okay, okay, yeah, um, yeah,” Chrissy took a deep breath with a soft nod to her head, “Yeah, I’ll try to come over- but her dad’s really strict, Eddie. Like extremely, he’s the only reason why she’s so, you know, hard about her grades and stuff, I don’t know if he’d actually let me see her-”

“Please, please, just try.” Chrissy took notice of just how tightly his hands were balling into themselves, knuckles turning a blistering white from the lack of ease he was inflicting upon himself. “She’s your friend, and she doesn’t want to see me, so please, I’m begging you, Chris-”

“I will, Eddie, I will.” She reassured, as she adjusted her knit sweater that suddenly became itchy on her sensitive skin. “I just, um, I’ll probably have to come up with an excuse, a-and skip practice.”

“Look, m’sorry I’m dragging you into this, but I just need to make sure she’s okay, and maybe you can finally have a chance to talk to her about…y’know.” Chrissy shook her head quickly, acknowledging but not trying to think about her implicit endorsement to the status quo at Hawkins High, and how much it had hurt you. And she let it hurt you. “Just- you can’t tell her it was me who sent you, okay? Sh-she wants nothing to do with me, and I’m trying to respect that, I just need to know she’s safe, but she can’t know I sent you. I don’t- I don’t want to make her more upset, Chris. I can’t, I just-”

“Eddie,” Realizing the words were once again coming out a mile a minute, he bit his tongue, letting a bubble of air constrict his lungs with a fervent grip. He wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t. Not here. Not at school. Not in front of Chrissy fucking Cunningham. Not that she’d judge much, she could already see the sheen of his eyes. “I’ll do it, I’ll check on her. A-and I won’t say it was you.”

His body was finally able to ease at her response, finally letting his airway release all tensions from the stirring anxiety that was still nesting in the crevices of his stomach. “Thank you, thank you so much.” His hands reached for her shoulders with a firm shake of acknowledgement, though his strength had her stumbling on her feet a bit. Not that he noticed. He was still worrying about you. “Just, uh, call me or something, the second she, uh- the second you know she’s okay.” Eddie didn’t want to think of the other possibility. The possibility where your father had laid a hand on you. Or worse. He wouldn’t know what to do. In his experience, silently crying and letting daddy take his frustrations out was the safest option. It was what mommy said to do, so dad wouldn’t do worse. At least ice cream was always promised at the end to make it all go away.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.” She nodded in agreement.

With the confirmation stated, Eddie had already begun walking away with a determined plan in mind to sit in front of the yellow telephone until the shrilling call came through. His mind dead set on you.

“Wait!” Chrissy had to snap him back to reality. “Eddie, I don’t have your phone number.” She lightheartedly scoffed.

Chrissy Cunningham began to worry. Yes, about you. She was ready to march her way past your father in order to make sure you were okay, and to pour her heart out on a well needed apology just so you could understand how sorry she was. Even if you didn’t accept it. But she was also worried about herself. Never in a million years did she expect Eddie Munson, of all people, to show her what true feelings were. He hadn’t even talked to you for more than a week, and he was bending over backwards to ensure all his wrongs were corrected for your safety and comfort. Jason Carvered loved her, she knew it, but the subtle things were becoming pronounced. Do you really think you should be wearing that? My parents will be there. Just come to the party, I’ll look bad if my girlfriend’s not there. When she comes back, I don’t want you hanging around Y/N anymore. She’s bad news and betrayed your friendship by fucking around with that trailer trash. Don’t make yourself look bad by being friends with her.

“Shit, yeah, sorry, my, uh, my brains all over the place.” He crazily signaled with a swing of his hand. Unlike yesterday, Chrissy’s pink pen was tainting a small torn sheet of notebook paper rather than skin, as risking the chance of Jason Carver seeing Eddie Munson’s phone number written on her hand would prompt another outburst of fury between the boys. So as Eddie reiterated the numbers to his home, Chrissy copied with intent.

Intent to see you. Intent to apologize. Intent to inform Eddie.

“Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I leave her place.” Chrissy assured, as the queasiness in Eddie had simmered but surely hadn’t left. He knew as soon as he got home, the consternation would eat him unalive.

Eddie nodded his head. “Yeah, thanks again, seriously, I’ll owe you whatever.” He sighed, before his brows perked. “Oh! I can give a twenty percent discount!” He didn’t even have to specify.

Chrissy Cunningham didn’t smoke. But at least he was trying.

“Uh, s-sure, Eddie.” She simply agreed, and it was able to give him a satisfied smile. “Anyways, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Just try not to worry too much, I’m sure she’s okay.” She inspirited.

“Okay, yeah, as soon as you can.” Eddie sighed. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m gonna go throw up or something.”

Luckily, Eddie Munson didn’t vomit in the filthy stall that is the boys’ bathroom at Hawkins High, though Chrissy Cunningham sure felt like she was about to hurl today’s lunch and breakfast standing at the doorstep of your home. Her toes tensed in the comfort of her sneakers, hearing the incoming steps of your father approaching the door. Hands gripping the straps of her backpack, she was ready- well, as ready as one can be about to face their best friend’s—did she even have a right to call you that—daunting father.

The door swung. “Hi, Mr. Y/L/N!” Smile, a bright smile and wave from Chrissy Cunningham was sure enough to get anyone to be polite. But his face plastered the same dead expression he’s had for the last four years Chrissy had known him. No smile. No squint of the eyes. Unemotional stoicism.

“Hi, Chrissy.” Robots had more pep in their voices. “Sorry, but Y/N is grounded, for quite an extensive period actually, so she’s not allowed visitors. Go home.” He began to close the door, but Chrissy’s manicured hand abruptly stopped the closure.

“Wait!” She immediately reeled back, seeing the disrespecting look take over his face. “Sorry, sir, I-I’m not here to hang out, it’s just, uh, I brought all the school work Y/N’s missed. You know, from her suspension?” She spoke sheepishly. “A-and well, we don’t want her falling behind, sir.” A nervous chuckle accompanied her faux parent voice. “In fact, Mrs. Durberry and I actually discussed tutoring, so, you know, Y/N is back on track by the time of her return.”

It was in regards to your grades, your father’s favorite. Chrissy Cunningham was a genius.

“Really?” He questioned quizzically.

“Yeah!” Chrissy bounced on the balls of her feet with a firm pat to her backpack. “I’ve got all her work right here. She’s free to turn it in when she gets back, and you know, she’s firmly secured that valedictorian spot, so there’s no need to worry.” She smiled, and of course, of course, that’s all he cared about in the wake of your suspension.

So easily had Chrissy been let into your home. She wondered what she would say to you, as she followed behind your father to your room. It was strange. Your home had always been a cold one, but your laughter and the endless sleepless sleepovers had the ability to bring warmth to such a colorless environment. But all that suffocated her was hostility. Long gone were the memories of an innocent friendship between the two girls. Another factor to consider was the mere fact that your father was guiding Chrissy. She’d been over to your house for years, the layout didn’t suddenly change over a couple days, and a nervous thump began upsetting Chrissy’s heart. And she found out why.

“Had to lock her up.” He uttered with no shame, as he pulled out a glowing key from his pocket. Haphazardly bolted on your door was a new lock, evidently cheaply and hastily done, as the lock resembled the numerous ones used for the lockers at Hawkins High, and the chipped paint and exposed wood could only insinuate the fury in which this job was done in. Your door lock, one onced used when you and Chrissy discussed the boys you thought were cutest at school in your pink pajamas, was now accompanied by a prison lock keeping you captive in your bedroom. “Should've seen the trash she was bringing in.” He muttered mostly to himself. Chrissy didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. Too disturbed for her own wellbeing. “Do me a favor, kid,” he unlocked the door, “knock some sense into that disgrace.”

He walked away without a care.

The door creaked open, and Chrissy had taken a deep breath. Stepping inside, with a soft click of the door behind her, her eyes landed on the still figure on your bed. Turned away and engaging at the neverending nothingness of everything, you cocooned yourself in your blanket, like a hurt child. Because you merely were one. Chrissy looked away, inching tiny steps closer. Disheveled would be an understatement to the usual cleanliness of your room. Knick-knacks and personal items were thrown about, cracked, and broken, and damaged beyond the actions of someone who was depressed. No, this was the destruction of deep rooted anger.

No expecting the company, you simply screwed your eyes closed with the awaiting words of hatred you thought would be coming from your father at any second. But it didn’t. Only the familiar softness of Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend. “Y/N…?”

You immediately jumped at the sound, meeting your reddening, wet eyes with Chrissy’s round, worried blue ones. “Chrissy…”

The occupying distrust you had for her was incomparable to the pain of what had occurred today. Yes, she hurt you. Yes, you lost your one true friend. But you needed her. And your arms opened like the broken child reaching out for help, and she immediately embraced you on your bed. Your bed, where you spent countless times giving each other at-home mani and pedis, even though your allowances provided enough for professional services, but this was more fun. Your bed, where Chrissy once vented about the first fight she ever had with Jason Carver, because he disregarded her at a party to do a keg stand—yes, it was trivial, but they were sixteen at the time. And your bed, where you both shared the vulnerability of losing a mother, either physically or emotionally, through sobbing tears and tight hugs, but none of that mattered because you were best friends and had each other. Forever.

“Are you okay?” Her vision appeared blurry under the disorientating state of water welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.” Chrissy stroked your hair. You couldn’t muster a word to respond with, merely silently crying into the junction of her neck, where she smelled of spring flowers. You’d picked out that perfume for her. Her seventeenth birthday. “I should’ve stuck up for you, I-I should’ve told everyone to stop, I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

Her apology suddenly revealed why you lost trust in her in the first place. Urgently pulling back from the hug far quicker than Chrissy would have liked, you brought your knees to your chest, letting your face find solace on the tiny space rather than her embrace.

“What are you doing here, Chris?” You mumbled so quiet, she was barely able to register it from the chirping birds outside.

“I came to apologize to you.” At least she wasn’t drunk. “I- Y/N everything I did to you was awful.” Her plucked brows furrowed with shame and remorse. You carefully picked up your head, as she gently held knee. “When everyone started saying stuff about you, I was so confused, and before I could even question it, Jason had me promise to not be around you, and I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to excuse what I did, I just should have known better, and I needed to apologize to you.”

Your eyes had closed in relief. You were beyond the trenches of exhaustion, everything was so sore from the exertion of crying, that the simple apology brought the grand relief you’d been yearning for. “I-I think I need space away from Jason.” That had your eyes snapping open. Jason and Chrissy, in love since the tenth grade, becoming the embodiment of young love in Hawkins. Their parents had practically set up a future in which both attended the same university as young adults, and married each other with the expectation of kids by the age of twenty-five.

“I don’t like who he is as a person.” She confessed with a wobbly lip. “ I know he loves me, but I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You took her back into a loving hug, where she fell limp in your arms, as her tears stained your clothes. Though muffled you spoke with a small whine, “You sound like Eddie.” Which had her giggling through tears.

She had slowly pulled away, smiling at the small curve of your lips that was brightening your face. She wiped your tears, and caressed the hairs out of your face. “Yeah, he’s kinda my new friend now.” She shrugged. “Even offered me a discount to his… business.”

You laughed with a roll to your eyes. “Quite the entrepreneur he is.” She snickered in agreement. “But yeah, I could tell when he came to my house yesterday.”

“Oh, god.” Chrissy plopped back on your bed. “How did you even figure out it was me, you’re so smart?”

You giggled, joining her, as you stared up at the ceiling. “Seeing someone like Eddie Munson show up with pretty pink writing on him doesn’t seem like something that occurs innately in nature. Figured you had something to do with it.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.” She turned to look at you. “I shouldn’t have given him that information without asking you. He just really wanted to apologize to you, too, and it seemed like the right thing to do. What even happened?” She sat up to get serious.

You couldn’t fathom retelling the occurrence of what happened, so you merely opted for the safest choice, and nodded your head in silence. “He did apologize, just wish he would have done it differently.” You sighed. “And, uh, my dad-” Your throat had automatically constricted at the simple mention of him, eyes tightening with the hopes of suppressing the whirlwind of tears that were about to flood your face. “Chrissy, he wouldn’t stop yelling.” You began bawling, as she pulled you up to wrap her arms around your shrinking body. “H-he kept screaming a-and shouting, then he just- he just started throwing things-” Chrissy could only rock you body, gently and softly, letting your tears hit her shoulder with all might. “I was so scared.”

The dreaded question. “Did- did he hit you?” Chrissy spoke into your hair, terrified of how you might answer. But luckily, the tiniest bit of luck, you had shook your head no, and she let out a deep breath. But the harsh slap of reality was that your father had still severely crossed a line that put you in an unsafe environment. And you were petrified.

“He’s not letting me leave my room.” You whispered through sniffles.

“Did he take your phone, Edd-” Chrissy contemplated for a second, before she spoke extremely softly. “Eddie said you didn’t pick up when he tried to call you after what happened.”

“He tried to call me?”

“Just to make sure you were okay.” She emphasized. “He said he’s trying to respect your wishes of wanting space, but after what happened, he just needed to know you were safe… that’s why- that’s why I’m here.” Your brows furrowed and you immediately sat up. “I’d been wanting to apologize to you, and Eddie had been dying to make sure you were okay, so he asked me to come check on you, and so I could finally say sorry to you. He- Y/N, he really cares about you. We both do.”

This was the bit of progress you were wanting to see. To know that the Eddie Munson you met Friday afternoon, the one who coward away at the mere idea of feelings and compassion, the one who uttered the vile words that stabbed right through you, the one who shouted in defense because he was hurt, that that wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. It wasn’t who he truly was. But a recovery from trauma was not a linear progression, and last night you were able to understand the fluctuations of Eddie Munson, the reason why he berated and hurt, the reason why he comforted and protected, the reason why he wailed and sobbed.

“Chrissy, when’s the next time you’re gonna see him?” You cleared your face from staining tears.

“I’ll see him at school tomorrow, but he asked me to call him to make sure you were safe first.”

You nodded. “I, uh- can you actually ask him something for me?”

That one clunking noise Eddie had once been so happy to hear? Yeah, he’s returned back to detesting it, as he felt it drew so much attention to the all too quiet streets of Pinecrest Acres. He made the conscience—and sober—decision to park behind the gray De Tomaso Pantera—fighting the urge to just pop the hood and look at the beauty inside—that resided two houses down from yours. It gave him enough coverage away from any view of your father. Eddie was terrified. Much to his dismay, Chrissy had been fairly vague over the phone when she rang him at 5:59 p.m exactly. Luckily by then, a buddy of Wayne’s had taken him out to an early dinner before their shift at the plant, so his uncle missed out on the Olympic-worthy run Eddie had made to the phone the second it began ringing. And Chrissy had spoken. A lot. But so little at the same time. He was happy to hear you guys made up. Truly he was. But Chrissy had carried on for a five minute tangent about how gladly you accepted her back into your life again. Eddie Munson was honestly jealous. Though she had mentioned how you specified wanting time away from her, too, maybe meeting up to speak that coming Monday at school when your suspension would be over. Eddie had wondered if you would speak to him then, too. But he didn’t have to wonder much longer. After he so kindly told the cheerleader to get to the point, the real point he wanted to hear, she had assured him that you were okay. Physically, at least. Eddie had dropped to his kitchen chair with a breath of relief that no one had touched you. But then Chrissy kept speaking. She wants to see you. Tonight. That had Eddie trajecting back up from his seat. But his questions had disappointingly gone unanswered. No details. No explanation. No reasoning. Just show up, Eddie. At midnight. At her window. And not drunk. Chrissy had never gotten the full story as to what went down between you and Eddie, so that part desperately confused and intrigued the girl, but she didn’t push any further. Eddie, though, had cringed in disgust at himself because he knew.

An owl had hooted in the distance as he followed the tracks his beloved, dying van had made on your green lawn. Once again, Eddie had found himself in the same position as last night, cracking his neck and rolling his limbs for the climb of a lifetime. If it was somehow possible, he felt he was quivering more than when he was three beers down and no dinner. Yes, he was sober, but his heart could stop beating at the neverending questions his mind was bombarding against himself. Were you mad because he sent Chrissy over? Surely you couldn’t be, she would have said so. But you could also be really fucking pissed. The same type of anger that caught him off guard when his father swung on his little face when Eddie thought they were having a good time.

But he couldn’t rely on heavy thoughts as such. He just needed to get to you. Passed the trellis, over the trimming, onto the roof. Quiet as Eddie Munson could be. He couldn’t really be quiet, but he tried for you. Crouching his way to your window, he sucked in a deep breath before he ever so gently tapped on your window. He was eyeing his reflection, wondering who the hell he had become. The one definitive figure he didn’t want to become: his father. A relentless pessimist, hatred against the world, bruteness to show off, and the inability to take accountability for the hurt they cause, because they were hurt first, right?

But then your curtains opened, and there you were. You.

You, who’d included his friends when no one wanted them. You, who made him smile despite his hesitations of getting hurt. You, who took the fall for everything. You, who gave Eddie Munson a chance.

You lifted your window open. “Hi.”

Eddie could cry right then and there. His shaky trembling hands slowly offered themselves to you, and you peered down, gently laying yours in his, where your warmth dissipated his coldness. He sighed with a loving grasp. “Y-you’re okay? He didn’t- did he touch you?”

Eddie had heard it from Chrissy, but hearing your small “no” was more comforting than a third-party person.

“Why, um, why did you need to see me?” He softly cleared his throat.

“I want to talk, b-but not here.” Eddie nodded ardently at your request. “Just somewhere far.”

Somewhere far, he could give that to you.

Helping you out of your window, you followed Eddie’s led to the edge of your roof, where you traced the dying height from your second story room to the hard, hard, ground. “Don’t be scared.” He soothingly smiled. “Remember, I made the climb drunk.”

You shook your head in disappointment, but he saw that small, beautiful smile peak through your lips. “Just, um, please don’t let me fall.” Your stomach sunk at the eerie possibility.

But Eddie was there, and he let you know with a secure squeeze to your joint hands. “Never.”

You watched him descend. Off of the roof. Over the trimming. Down the trellis. He made it look so easy, as if he actively partook in the illegal activity of breaking and entering. Eddie would never admit it, not now at least, but for good reason he had done it once. Once. Mr. Godly had a cat that fifteen-year-old Eddie once saw the old man kick. Safe to say, Cronkers now resides in the makeshift cat house of cardboard, wood, and a childhood blanket behind the Munson’s residence. Her favorite is Wayne’s Monday meatloaf.

He encouraged you down delicately. Instructing you to take small movements, find your steps, and he’ll be right there. He’d always be there. When your Converse hit the holes of the trellis, his hands faintly found your waist, where you trusted him to carry you down the last couple abrasive steps onto your crushed garden. Feet safely on the ground, you gazed up at his staggering height and met his concerned eyes. You merely nodded before he could get the words out, are you okay?

“Your car?” You interrupted his staring. But in his defense, your face was illuminated mesmerizingly in the moonlight of the dark sky.

“Right, right.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He muttered in embarrassment, as he quickly walked away before you could see his flushing cheeks. As if you hadn’t already witnessed him ugly cry drunk in your bedroom.

You walked the quiet trip to his van, where he graciously opened the door for you. You didn’t know at the time, but the couple yards it took to get to his car, he’d been battling himself whether or not that’d be the right move to try. He’d never opened the door for anyone. But your small “thank you” that flashed his way had him praising to the gods he didn’t even believe in that he was a genius.

His car smelled strongly like cigarettes and weed. It honestly hurt your head, but you hadn’t expected anything less from Eddie. It made you giggle to yourself. The usual was everywhere; littered receipts and wrappers crumbled into the door compartments, numerous scented trees hanging from the rear view mirror, which you could only assume had been Eddie’s attempt to mask the nicotine and marajuana, and of course, an array of tapes thrown upon the floor at your feet, you could vividly imagine Eddie getting tired of a tape and carelessly getting rid of it. But then there was something else.

Eddie appeared in the front seat. “You ready?” He heaved.

“Yeah, but, um, why do you have these?”

“Ice cream?” He questioned more than answered. Yes, ice cream sitting in the tight space of his cupholders, two cartons with a spoon for each. “Um, well, I figured it’d be nice to, uh, have. I always, uh, liked having it, I guess. Always made me feel slightly better as a kid. It’s vanilla and chocolate. You can take whichever.” You eyed him incredulously, he eyed you worriedly. “Do you not like either of those flavors? I know I went basic, but I thought they were safe choices. I can get you whatever. Strawberry, cookies n’ cream, mint?” He grimaced, as though it was a deal breaker but he’d look right past it.

You giggled at him. “No, Eddie, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.” You shyly smiled.

“Okay, good.” He smiled, with a whistle of relievement. “So, it’ll make you feel better?”

Lovers Lake had been the destination of choice for Eddie. It was quiet and calming. The car ride had been, too. Eddie had suggested some music, but was adamant about his disdain for the radio, though you weren’t necessarily in the mood to have the voices of Megadeth screaming at you this late at night. Eddie had begrudgingly agreed. So it was quiet. He was itching to ask you why you wanted to talk, though that only seemed appropriate whenever you would arrive. You had reached over and played with the mini bobble head figure of Garfield that was nestled against his van’s windshield. You said it was cute. He blushed. Then proceeded to nervously ramble about how Uncle Wayne had one of Odie in his work truck. You didn’t know Uncle Wayne, but he spoke about him like you knew every detail about Wayne already. The lake had been abandoned and lonely upon arrival. The lights to Rick Lipton’s lake house had been shut off for nearly a year now after his arrest. Eddie had only agreed and smiled when you mentioned how an old, lovely couple probably lived there and sat out by the lake to watch the sunset. Sure, something like that. He’d let you have your fantasy. The way the idea lit up your face and eased your tension, he wasn’t about to ruin that.

“We can, um, head to the back.” He offered, to which you agreed.

In truth, the bundle of blankets and pillows in the back of his van didn’t paint him out to be the greatest of all people, but he quickly assured that he frequently takes nap in the comfort of his van when he doesn’t have the energy for Mrs. O’Donnell’s voice. Specifically adding a yapping gesture with his hand to emphasize. So there you were. Sitting in the back, doors open to let in the midnight breeze, as you looked out to the glistening waters. You’d settled on vanilla after you noticed the tighter grip Eddie’s hand had clutched around the chocolate flavor, and surely, a blooming smile erupted on his face when he got to secure his preferred flavor of dessert.

“So, um-”

“I just wanted to speak to you.” You confided. “You know, when we’re not yelling, crying, or drunk,” you giggled at his wincing face, “as we have been doing for the past couple of days.”

“M’a fucking mess, I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Eddie-”

“No, you’re not.” He firmly attested. “You were absolutely perfect before I came into your life and fucked everything up.”

You teased, “You're saying I’m not perfect now?” Your mouth dropped in a dramatic gasp that had him smiling.

“No! No! I’m not saying that at all, you are perfect now, you’ll be perfect for the rest of your life and you won’t even have to try.” He sheepishly grinned, filling his mouth with a big spoonful to bite back the smile.

“Hate to break it to you, Eddie, but I’ve been far from perfect even before I met you. I wish you would see that. It’s doing more harm than good.” You spoke sincerely. “I don’t like you placing me into a bubble, Eddie, especially when you’ve hated the people who’ve done it to you. But I never have.”

His head dropped with a nod. “You’re right.” He accounted. “I’ve had the bullshit done to me for years, I thought it’d finally make me feel good to do it to someone like you. And it was fucking gross of me, because you’re right, you’ve never done anything to me. Actually, that night you took our photo, that was quite literally the nicest anyone has ever treated me- us. And, fuck me, did I like the shit out of you.”

You laughed at his shy revelation. “You have such a romantic way with your words, Eddie Munson.” You joked.

“Sorry.” He covered his mouth so kidlike. “But, uh, yeah I obviously liked you, and well, something in me was just fighting me to stay away. Or get away, more than anything. Because, um, it’d… it’d really fucking hurt if you didn’t like me back.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, speaking with pure shame as to who he was as a person. “And, well, mission fucking accomplished, I, sorta, kinda went above and beyond with that logic.”

“You think?” You smiled.

“It was so stupid of me.” He regrettably sighed. “Because-because I thought- you were just so nice to me. Ready to be my friend and everything, that I knew, I fucking knew my feelings would get too much for me and the realizations that I couldn’t be with you fucking scared me.” His voice had significantly softened to ease the burning ache in his throat. “A-and I’m such a shit excuse of a person that I fucking hurt you when you didn’t deserve it.”

“You are not that, Eddie, don’t say that-”

“But I am, Y/N, I’m so fucking terrible. I-I’m, fuck- I really fucking hate my dad.” Your brows creased at the sudden change of topics. “He was an awful person, he- he would-” The crying began. “Fuck,” he wiped his tears completely embarrassed, “He would just do terrible things to me and my mom, and I fucking said- I fucking said I wouldn’t be like him, be like her- she just fucking took that shit, Y/N, she said it was for the best.” You held his hand, his ice cream long forgotten and pushed to the side. “I just don’t want to be like him- them. M’tryin’ so fucking hard that it fucking backfired. M’such a terrible person, and I’m so sorry.”

You wished this conversation wasn’t full of tears, but you realized how inevitable that idea was. You and Eddie Munson were hurting and releasing. Crying was necessary.

“You are not a terrible person, Eddie.” He had to hear, loud and clear. You rested your head on his shoulder, where his head dropped upon yours. “Terrible people don’t sit and wonder if they’re terrible. And the fact that you care about how you are as a person shows it.” You caressed the back of his hand. “You are a worthwhile person, Eddie. I can so clearly see it.”

“I’m really fucking sorry for everything I’ve done to you, Y/N.” He wiped the incoming snot from his nose with his denim sleeve. “I-I need you to know that everything I did was out of fucking stupidity.” He huffed. “What I called you, those names, that was fucking disgusting, and I don’t believe that about you at all. I never have.”

“I’m sorry for what I said about you, too-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry for telling the truth.” He deeply laughed through his sniffles, voice deeper from the being nasally stuffed.

You smiled back guilty. “No, I am! What I said was really mean, too.”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “What was it, ‘a sulking asshole too pathetic to deal with their problems?’ You hit it right on the nail, princess.”

“Well,” you giggled, “even if you won't let me apologize, I need you to know that I still feel bad. Slightly.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned. “But I do need to apologize, and I need you to know that I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. For what I said. For what I did. For making you feel horrible and scared. And for just putting you through all that. You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I know.” You whispered. “And if it’s any consolation to you, Eddie, I also hate my dad.”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie clutched his heart. “He really put a fucking number on me, fuck me.” He groaned, turning to face you. “Please, please, please tell me if he does something. I won’t be able to fucking live my life not knowing.”

Your lips tucked tightly within themselves, and with a soft nod you assured him you would.

You spoke. You both spoke for a while. The hours had passed unknowingly until both tubs of ice cream were empty by 3:33 a.m. Tears and laughter had flooded the back of the van, and you felt like you’d been his friends with him since childhood. He couldn’t fathom the way he treated you, when speaking to you floated him into another dimension of peace and acceptance. Something he hadn’t felt in the entirety of his life. But when you caught a glimpse of the repeating digits on his watch, your heart panicked and you urged him to take you home, which he suddenly complied. This time, though, Megadeth was gladly played, and to say you were shocked would be quite an understatement. Eddie had belted a laugh at your abrupt introduction to metal, finding your this-is-weird-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-think-I’m-judging-you face as the cutest thing ever. And sooner than he liked, he pulled up behind the De Tomaso Pantera. Your attempt to say goodbye fell short, though, when he shot down your idea to walk home alone.

“Really, Eddie, go home, it’s late.” You huffed, when you reached your house.

“I will, I will,” He snickered with defensive hands. “Just, uh, th-thank you so much for, um- well, being so understanding even after all that I did. I just- you really are the best, Y/N.” He ranked his hands over his face in hopes of concealing the ever growing smile on his face.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You giggled at his flustered state. “You’re quite incredible yourself.”

“Do, um, where does this… leave us?”

“I still want space, Eddie.” You spoke honestly, to which he concurred. “Until we’re okay.”

“Until we’re okay.” He sighed.

Eddie had managed to take advantage of the four hours of sleep left until school began. There was no sleeping past his alarm clock, no rush to get dressed, no giving up when lateness was inevitable. He’d shown up, showered and full with a bowl of cereal that went a long way, as he approached Ms. Kelly’s office. It was nerve wracking. He’d never considered this to be a good idea, in fact, following his father’s word, therapy was a pussy excuse for the delusional to waste money on. But those were the words that held him captive from the potential he so well deserved to reach. Turning from her filing cabinet, Ms. Kelly had caught sight of his timid figure standing at the door.

“Eddie.” She hadn’t been unfamiliar with his being, she’d actually been the one to break it to him the last two times that he was in for another year at prison Hawkins High. “How can I help you?”

He sauntered his way into her office, taking a seat with a gruff. It was evident his persona to seem calm, cool, and collected was falling through the cracks, as his finger spun the numerous rings on his fingers. “I, uh, I was wondering if it’d be cool to, um, just talk?”

“Absolutely.” Ms. Kelly dreamed of the day Eddie Munson would enter her office with good intentions. “Anything in particular?”

He shook his head. “No.” He sighed. “Just got a lot pent up inside, I guess.”

“Well, the floor is yours, Eddie.” She smiled. “Talk as much as you need.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Unfortunately, my tag list for this series has gotten too long, so I will not be adhering to any further requests to be included. I'm so terribly sorry, but the amount of tags has beyond reached its limit, and I think it's best to stop. I hope it's understandable. Nonetheless, thank you all for your kind support, I hope you guys continue to enjoy the series, and if you ever have any ideas as to what you'd like to see, I'd love to know!

@sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #the yearbook: club pictures

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kamimarroco · 1 month ago

Note

more Bottom Ren fics pLEASE 😭😭 you’re the only one I trust for the task 🙏

HIII SWEETIE!! Sorry for the delay, I really struggled a lot with how I was going to do this, but I got this piece of work here

Officially my longest work, I did it all in the same day, there are probably mistakes, but I hope from the bottom of my heart that it is worth something ;)

Words: exactly 2200

CW: Handcuffing, anal, pegging, bottom Ren, noncon, unhealthy relationship, very toxic dynamics, MC is kind of an asshole, but they are too soft-hearted to be cruel for so long

“H-Hey, calm down...", Ren moved his naked body away from the middle of the bed to a point further away from you, his wrists struggling against the handcuffs, surely injuring himself in the process from the steel material. “W-Wait a second, do you have any idea what you're about to do?”

The panic rising in his voice made the smile on your face and excitement grow equally, or maybe even more, yourself placing your knees on the soft fabric of the bed, slowly approaching the beastkin.

“What's wrong, Renren? I thought this... was something you were already used to”, you made a point of pointing to the strap-on perfectly placed on your hips, a large phallus pointed directly at the man in front of you.

A beautiful sight to have, indeed. One that would certainly cause two people to cheer up depending on the context of the situation.

But for Ren, this is more than terrible, it's a nightmare.

And that's why the situation brings you such euphoria that you can't put it into words.

“Awe, don't be such a baby!”, you spoke in a playful tone, making the scene even more suspenseful as you slowly crawled towards him, giving him the false sense of hope that maybe he could escape you in time. Unfortunately for the beastkin, the handcuffs did indeed limit his power to do anything, and even if he managed the feat of getting out of bed, you had already locked the door in case anything happened.

He had nowhere to escape. He is a fox who fell into a perfectly orchestrated trap.

When you got close enough to put Ren within arm's reach, he futilely started kicking his legs, trying to push you away and hit you with one of his feet. “NO! Nonono, go away!”, he demanded, his voice becoming high-pitched as dread consumed him.

You didn't have the patience to deal with that kind of attitude at the moment, firmly grabbing both of Ren's feet and pushing his legs against his chest, automatically making him stop moving.

“Look, Ren", you said his name with a tone of voice that showed how thin your patience was running. “I'm trying to make things easy, I really am, but I can't do it if you keep trying to resist me”

You took a moment to look carefully at beatskin's face, his eyes big and bright, like he was about to burst into tears right here, a very different view compared to the one you had of him.

Days before, when you were the one wearing the stupid shock collar and when Ren was the one in charge and had control over you, you would be the one crying, begging him not to do something really bad to you, struggling and conforming to his desires just so he could go a little easier on you.

It's funny how things can change drastically in the blink of an eye, huh?

Ren looked at you with frightened eyes, scanning you, perhaps trying to find some sign of weakness that he could use against you and make you drop that completely crazy idea, but he didn't find anything.

“P-Please, how about we do something else? I-I'll do anything you want, anything!”

Oh, poor little Ren.

You clicked your tongue in disapproval, shaking your head slightly from left to right in denial, eyes closed and a too-happy smile plastered across your face. You even chuckled a little! Something Ren had never seen before and which would have been a wonderful moment if he hadn't found himself in the situation he was in.

What's so bad about this? Compared to what he's already done to you, he should thank you from the bottom of his heart.

“Oh, Ren…”, you brought his small body closer to yours, the dildo being pressed against his belly and cock, which for some very interesting reason was hard. “You say something, but your body clearly says something else. Tell me, are you secretly into this kind of thing?”

“N-No! No, I'm… not”, fucking liar, you can tell he's lying through his teeth.

“Oh? Well, it doesn't matter. It's not like you'd care about my opinion if the roles were reversed”, you moved your body away a little to point the tip of the phallus at his hole, releasing one of the hands that was holding one of his legs so you could guide yourself inside him. “You'll stop complaining in a second”

The object wasn't lubricated, and you hadn't even bothered to lubricate Ren to receive you. It's all dry and pure and raw, just like he always did with you.

You didn't give him space to say a word before brutally shoving the object inside his hole, receiving a high-pitched scream that sounded like an animal in pain and pushing his body lightly onto the bed.

“S-STOP, STOP IT! IT HURTS!”, he shouted a few more times with that same high-pitched tone of voice, which was genuinely starting to piss you off due to the agony it caused to your ears.

“Oh, shut up! It's not even that hard, stop being difficult!”, you ignored his screams of pain and pulled the dildo out, the movement not being as smooth due to the fact that you hadn't used lube. “You can take it. Stop acting like a… girl”

You had no other words to describe him nor did you bother to think, returning to the work of sticking the phallus once more inside his hole.

Ren was panicking, his breathing was shallow and fast and desperate, his body trying to escape the invasion of having an object forced inside him so roughly and suddenly, his hands unable to do anything about it, with some lines of blood already forming on the skin of his wrists from the steel.

All the beastkin could do was twitch his legs, and his legs he twitched every time the pain spread through his body, each nerve sending the sensation to another nerve until all he could feel was just that.

Your cheeks burned with lust and the power of being able to do something like this with Ren, your smile widening even further as you laughed maniacally at him, your chest burning with something akin to pride.

Proud to be doing this to him, proud to be able to respond in the same way he did to you.

Ren continued screaming, his body still trying to resist the abuse, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, which didn't dare open to look you face to face. He was scared, being violated, trapped by you, a fox in the palm of your hand.

“It hurts, doesn't it? It hurts when it's with you”, you punctuated with a rough, deep thrust, moving your hands to hold him at the hips to keep him in place. “It's kind of nice... to see you getting the same treatment you did to me, and probably to other people”

You didn't want to hear it, but a little voice in the back of your head told you that you were going too far with all of this. Sure, he's a little bastard, he forced you to kill a man, shocked you multiple times, raped you in the basement, and inflicted your skin over and over again-

Actually, when you think about it, he more than deserves this. This is more than justified for you and others, and you really don't want to kill the mood by suddenly changing your mind because of moral values.

You kept moving again and again for a while, getting the same animal reaction in pain as the other times, but slowly dying down little by little. Maybe because he had already used up all his energy, or maybe because he realized there was no point in continuing to fight.

The movement of Ren's legs also died, leaving only the rivers of tears that formed in his eyes, which finally opened to look at you and-

Fuck, you think he's beautiful like this, but you also feel a pang in your heart when you see him so worn out.

“I-I’m sorry…”, he speaks weakly as you continue to move, genuinely taking you by surprise.

You suddenly stop, your gaze remaining fixed on his, your mouth half open in surprise. “What?”

You seriously weren't thinking about stopping just because you saw him cry and apologize, right?

“What did you say?", you asked again, paying attention to his facial expressions, trying to discover any malicious intention behind the words.

“I-I said... I'm sorry", and he repeated it again, ears flat against his head, a wet trail formed on either side of his face by tears.

You're not gonna lie... You feel bad seeing this. You're not a monster, you're not someone who does these kinds of things just for pure sadistic pleasure. You are not like him.

Still, you can't just change your mind because he apologized! Anyone would do that in this situation, you can't be that soft-hearted-

“Ssshit, I'm sorry. I-I think I exaggerated a little"

well, shit.

Just as you were about to remove the dildo from inside Ren, you are unexpectedly stopped by him.

“N-No, I mean… You can go on, really, just... go easy on me”

You make a confused expression at his request, not knowing if you want to stop because of what you witnessed or continue because he is strangely cooperating now.

Ren senses your uncertainty and change of heart and decides to put his word in. “I-It's okay, it's just... the way you do it. It's too rough”

Too rough, he says.

“So, what should I do?”, you feel like a child asking an adult how to do the right thing. It's funny, considering you're a few years older than him.

For some odd reason, telling you how you should do it makes his cheeks burn with embarrassment, a completely different moment compared to what was happening minutes before.

“I would tell you to use lube, but I think you threw that idea out the window a long time ago”, you feel bad thinking that he most likely felt his insides tearing apart every time you moved. “Try to go... slowly, to make the movements smooth"

Slowly. Yeah, you can do that.

You breathe and concentrate on not going as rough as you did the previous times, making sure to hold onto his small body so he doesn't escape you. The difference is clear. You are gentle... and he doesn't let out a scream of pain when the phallus is inserted all the way inside him. Ren doesn't fight or cry or try to run away from the act this time.

He genuinely seems to embrace the feeling now, even though the pain may still be there.

“Is this better?", you ask right after doing so, not daring to move without first knowing the beastkin's word.

You can't help but feel stupid for now worrying about his opinion when you should be teaching him a lesson.

“Yeah, it's better”, he speaks softly, a little hoarse from all the shouting he did at the top of his lungs earlier. His tail touches your leg, the fur tickling your skin but not irritating you in the slightest. You welcome it. “Can you… kiss me now?”

“Kiss you?”, you are surprised by his request, but try to play it cool as you remember that you asked the beastkin about how you should do things the right way in the first place. “I mean, sure... If that's what you want”

You feel hesitant at first, a little nervous about kissing him. Why are you nervous? You've never felt this way before. Maybe the reason is because this moment feels more intimate, delicate, and you really don't want to spoil the mood.

You touch Ren's face, gently running your fingers over the soft skin, unconsciously wiping away the trail of tears that were still present, kind of feeling bad about how much he had cried. Feeling bad that you were the reason behind it.

He's so soft, so small, as if he could break at any moment, especially in your hands.

You bring your lips closer to his, first testing your skin against his, giving light nibbles to spice things up, always careful not to be too rough after what he's been through. You feel your heart flutter inside your chest as you feel him respond, but of course he does, in a way as sweet and calm as yours.

You feel encouraged to move your hands over Ren's body, touching each scar with care and affection, outlining the wounds with adoration. He trembles at the contact, his muscles initially tensing, then giving way to relaxing under your caresses. You gently ask for entry with your tongue and are answered by him opening his mouth, entering it with confidence and ardor.

He tastes good... Fuck, he tastes good.

You don't need any further instructions and just start moving in and out at a steady, calm pace, feeling the movement more fluid as he opens up to you in more ways than one.

This is good. It's easy. You can do it easily.

#btd #btd2 #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #ren hana #ren btd #btd ren #btd2 ren #fanfic writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #ask

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happilyhertale · 2 years ago

Text

Finding the courage – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 7

Summary: You spent a sheltered childhood in Brighton. Until the time when your father died. Your mother is overwhelmed with the role of caring mother, which eventually leads you to leave home and seek happiness elsewhere. But you have not in the least anticipated what or who awaits you in your new adopted home.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: In some parts Smut as well as Violence. There will be an extra warning for the respective parts.

Author’s note: Hey you (:

This short Tom Bennett story is based on the request that was sent to me.

The story takes place before the first season of World on fire. I hope you will enjoy the story! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (: If you want to read more from me

18+ NSFW

Word count: 2.9k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slowly, you walk to the stairs and grin at him as you go upstairs. Upstairs you disappear into the bathroom.

Tom is not sure whether he should follow you, he doesn't want to push you. He stops in the kitchen first before slowly walking over to the living room.

You lean against the closed door for a moment. Your eyes are closed and you are nervous. You sigh and go over to the mirror. You see that your cheeks are flushed, although nothing has happened. You shake your head with a smile and remove your make-up. As you put on your nightgown, you think of Tom. You have just left Tom downstairs. Should you ask him to come upstairs? It's been a long time since you've been really intimate with a man. But with Tom, it seems so easy... You have a great desire to feel him.

Before you know it, you are standing at the top of the stairs and calling down, "Tom?"

At first there is no answer until you hear someone sit up on the sofa downstairs in the living room.

"What's wrong?" you hear him call out.

"Are… are you coming up...?" you closed your eyes. Silence again. You think he has either fallen asleep because of his alcohol level or doesn't want to come up. Just as you are about to go into the room, you hear someone passing through the kitchen downstairs. You see Tom coming up the stairs in just his boxer shorts and vest.

"Is everything... alright?", he stutters briefly as his gaze wanders over your body. He stands in front of you and notices that your body is only covered by your thin nightgown.

"Mhmm... Lois isn't sleeping here tonight, after all... and... I don't like being alone?"

He grins, "That's really the only reason..?". Slowly he takes a step towards you, his hands grasping your hips.

You just nod and blush even more.

"Oh my blushing love... I think you're lying"

Slowly he leans towards your face and kisses you. As he pulls you closer with his hands, you gasp briefly.

You stand close to his body and feel his already growing arousal pressing against your belly. Carefully he pushes you towards the room and closes the door behind him. He presses you closer to him as he kisses you wildly. Your hands are wrapped around his neck as your breathing becomes heavier. Slowly Tom pushes you towards his bed.

You slowly let yourself sink onto the bed. Tom leans over you, his legs are between yours. Your nightgown has slipped over your thighs and you feel his fingers slowly but purposefully tracing the path of your nightgown, sliding along the inside of your thighs. He kisses you and swallows your gasp as his fingers suddenly reach your wet core.

Without hesitation, he pushes your panties aside and lets his fingers slide through your wet folds. He groans at the sensation of his fingers being instantly drenched by your arousal. You instinctively move your hips towards him as he slides two fingers inside you with ease.

You moan out, but this time he lets you moan, he wants to hear how loud you can be. Gentle at the beginning, he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again with brutal pace. You moan again, this time louder.

"Yea... show me how loud you can be", you hear him breathe into your ear. These words make your arousal rise even more. Only your moans and the wet sounds of your pussy can be heard in the room.

You grip the blanket you are lying on tightly as you feel the warmth spreading through your lower belly.

"Now I finally want to feel how your tight pussy feels around my cock," Tom's dark voice sounds. And that makes your arousal rise immeasurably. "T-Tom! I need you!", you manage to stammer.

He grins and kisses you wildly. When you feel your climax within reach, Tom takes his hands away from your hot core, you whimper in protest. But he doesn't hesitate and presses his hips against yours and you immediately feel his cock pressing against your folds. Only your thin underwear separates you from each other. You both groan as you feel each other so close. Your hands are on his biceps and grip tightly. He keeps rubbing his hot length against your soaked panties, it makes you whimper.

"Mmhmm, my love... always so needy," he breathes against your lips. Your hands go to his neck to deepen the kiss. He grins against your lips and continues to press his hips rhythmically against yours. Wanting to feel more of him, you let your hands wander over his firm back until you reach the waistband of his boxers. Your hand slides inside his boxer shorts and you reach for his buttock to press him further against you. He hisses at the sensation. Slowly you try to pull down his boxers. He helps you, and suddenly hovers over you without his boxers. Your gaze falls on his full size and you are speechless. His size is overwhelming and you have never felt a greater urge to feel someone inside you. You bite your lower lip unintentionally, he grins at the sight. He leans over you again, gently kissing your jaw until he whispers in your ear, "Yea my blushing love... this one is just for you..."

Your breath catches in your throat as you look into his eyes again. You kiss each other greedily. With practised hand movements Tom takes off your panties, your nightgown is next. When Tom sees you completely naked in front of him, he pauses for a moment and his lustful gaze fades for a brief moment. He just looks at you with complete admiration. He kneels between your legs and lets his hands wander gently over your thighs, over your soft belly, until he reaches your breasts and gently embraces them. He breathes heavily. You just watch him. "You are gorgeous," you hear him whisper. As you let your fingers glide gently over his arms, he is snapped out of his trance. He sees you smile and has to smile too. He quickly takes off his vest and hovers over you again. He kisses you and lets his cock slide through your moisture again and again.

"Fuck... You feel so good. So wet for me..."

You can only stammer "yea... yea..." over and over again. Until Tom can't stand it any longer. He sinks his length into you. Involuntarily your walls immediately clench around his cock. You both groan. The feeling that Tom fills you completely is overwhelming. He gives you a short time to adjust to his size. Slowly he pushes further and further into you. Your eyes are closed, you want to relish every moment. With each thrust you spread your legs wider and push your hips further towards him. You need to feel him deeper. His thrusts become faster and harder. You are both breathing heavily, kissing wildly.

"Tom... I... I need to feel you deeper," it suddenly slips out of you. He looks at you briefly, but doesn't hesitate for long. He pulls his cock out of your pussy and spins you around. You lie on your stomach and he kneels behind you as he pulls your bottom towards him by your hips. You lean on your elbow. Slowly he lets his cock slide through your folds, you moan.

"Mmmhm... my love wants to feel me deeper...? How could I deny her that?"

And with one deep thrust he is inside you, you moan loudly and hear a dark groan from him behind you. He holds you by the hips and guides his hot length into you.

"Fuuuck... you feel much better than I ever dreamed... you are so tight... so wet..." you hear him gasp. He thrusts into you harder and harder, the sound of naked skin slapping against each other fills the room.

"You are so deep," you whimper. Tom groans loudly.

As he looks down and sees him sliding in and out deeply. The base of his cock glistening with your arousal, he feels a dangerous twitch in his balls. He grunts loudly. With each thrust, you hear his little bed squeak loudly beneath you and hit the wall with a dull thud.

You rise up on your forearms and feel Tom thrust deep inside you. You see his expression as you look over your shoulder. His hands hold you firmly by your hips. His face is full of lust. His curvy lips, which you can't get enough of, are slightly parted, allowing deep moans of pleasure to escape.

His balls slap continuously against your clit and you feel the fire spreading inside you. Tom notices how your walls tighten around him, how your thighs begin to tremble. "You like it when I take you like this?? Come on, come on my cock!" you hear him almost shout behind you. Your sounds of ecstasy increase in volume and he groans with you.

When you realise that his fingers are suddenly on your clitoris and rubbing firm circles on it, your moan becomes almost desperately loud. And that's it, you come hard. Tom doesn't stop pumping into you. Only when your moans become quieter do his thrusts become softer.

He looks down at your sweaty bodies. His hands are on your buttocks again, he pulls them apart a little and watches carefully as he slowly slides in and out of you. Again and again he moans softly. You enjoy the slow movements, how it feels… The way he lets his length slide slowly into your oversensitive core. His heavy breathing... His soft moans...

Your breathing slowly returns to normal as he eventually stops inserting his cock into you. You look over your shoulder and see him kneeling behind you, still breathing heavily and grinning at you. You sit up and also kneel, leaning slightly forward on your arms. You turn around and crawl to him. You gently sit down on his lap, you kiss him. You feel his hot breath and his arms around you. Slowly you let him slide into you again. Your hands sink deep into his hair as you move your hips rhythmically on his cock. Tom puts his hands on your buttocks and presses you closer to him so he can thrust into you better and match your rhythm. He stifles a moan at your upper arm and bites into it lightly.

"Naaah... I want to hear how loud you can get," you whisper in his ear. He has to grin and pushes into you especially hard with his next thrust. You groan briefly and have to giggle. Your movements become faster, you bounce your hips on him. You want to feel him deeper. You ignore the ache in your thighs as you increase the speed again and let him slide into you faster.

He pants against you, "You like fucking yourself on my cock, don't ya?" You only manage to let out a "mmmhm!" and moan loudly. You notice how he breathes harder and his hands now grip your hips tightly. Now he sets the pace. He lets your hips bounce continuously on his cock. You moan and cling to his shoulders. Tom can only watch as his cock disappears inside you. Until he notices how his lower abdomen contracts. It pulls all the way into his balls, he moans loudly. A "fuck" leaves his lips. You kiss him, you need to feel his lips. You both gasp into each other as you feel yourselves getting closer to your climax.

The fire spreads inside you, your thighs tremble again. The base of his cock, rubbing over your clit again and again, makes your walls clench. Your walls flutter uncontrollably around all his length. This gives Tom the rest. You hear him moaning loudly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Desperately, he thrusts deep inside you a few more times. His warm seed soaks your walls and the tension inside you snaps again. You wrap your arms around his neck and moan loudly. Tom holds you tightly against him as you lay your head back in pleasure and moan.

Slowly you ride out your climax on him. He breathes heavily, his head falls into the crook of your neck. He caresses your back gently.

"That was... wow," you hear him murmur against your skin. You just chuckle softly, between your heavy breathing. Gently you kiss his head.

He slowly lets himself fall backwards and pulls you with him. He holds you in his arms and caresses you gently. When he briefly starts to chuckle. You look up at him and only see him reaching for something on the floor. He has his vest in his hand and hands it to you, "I got you all soaked"

You blush slightly and take his vest.

"That makes you blush? After everything we just did?"

You hit him lightly, he chuckles and kisses you. You clean yourself up for a moment and lie back in his arms.

You lie in a pleasant silence. Only your soft breathing can be heard. Light kissing sounds fill the room now and then. As your kiss deepens again, you put your leg over his hip. Slowly you want to roll onto him when you hear the door open downstairs.

Douglas is coming home. You look at each other a little startled. But you are also a little glad that he is only coming home now. You giggle softly.

You hear Douglas go up the stairs and disappear into his room. You suddenly realise how exhausted you are. Slowly Tom's fingers glide over your soft skin. He holds you in his arms and his quiet breath accompanies you to sleep.

He does not loosen his arms around you the entire night. His arms hold you close and your legs are knotted. When you wake up the next morning, you feel his gentle breath on your neck. Slowly, the memories of what happened last night come back and you have to smile at the thought. You lean forward a little and try to support yourself on your elbow, but Tom wraps his arms around you tighter, "Stop that," you hear him say sleepily. He pulls you close again and gently kisses your neck. You chuckle softly. Gently you stroke his arm that is wrapped around you. He hums softly in your ear.

"Happy first morning together," you hear him whisper. You grin. And when you notice how he rhythmically presses his crotch against you, your grin grows.

"Mmhm that's not the only happy thing here, is it?"

You feel his grin on your skin and how he gently brushes his lips over your skin.

"Can you blame me? When you are lying naked next to me...?"

His hand moves from your stomach towards your warm core. Your breath quickens as he begins to gently kiss your neck. When his hand reaches your already wet folds, you gasp, "Tom! Your father is in the next room!"

"Mhmhm... better be quiet then..." he murmurs against your skin.

Slowly he lets his fingers slide through your folds. From behind you feel his hot length rubbing between your thighs to slide into you. You can't help it and start to push yourself towards him. His cock at the entrance to your warm core and his fingers on your clit. You do your best not to moan loudly, but a low moan escapes you. Tom also begins to breathe heavily. As he slides into you, you moan quietly again and hear him chuckle softly. Tom grips your hips and lets you slide onto his cock. He leans his forehead against your neck and increases the pace of his thrusts. He murmurs a soft "Fuuck". You press your ass further against him to feel him deeper. He lets out a low, deep groan. He grips your thigh and lifts it slightly to slide deeper into you. Long and deep thrusts follow. Your breath quickens. The angle he reaches now makes the fire in your lower belly spread again.

"T-Tom... I-I'm close...", you stammer. Tom gently kisses your neck, "Yea.. love, let go.", his still sleepy, raspy voice sounds.

Tom thrusts deep inside you a few more times and you can't help yourself. Your walls spasm uncontrollably around his pulsating length. You press your face further into the pillow to muffle your moans. You notice Tom gripping your hips tightly again, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and his breath coming in bursts. Until he climaxes himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his moans and lets you slide onto his cock a few more times. As he slows his movements, you feel his heavy breathing on the back of your neck. Gently he kisses your soft skin.

"Good morning," you whisper.

He chuckles softly.

"What I wouldn't give to spend every morning like this with you," he says softly.

Your heart stumbles and you have to grin. Gently, you let your fingers caress his arm, "I don't think that would be so pleasant for Lois"

You hear him chuckle softly again.

You turn in his arm and press your face against his chest, "If only we could stay up here all day," you murmur against his warm, firm chest.

"Mmmhm... Love... Can't get enough of me already... But if you want Lois to discover us at some point, sure"

You want to get out of his arms, but he wraps his arms around you further, "We'll find a way to exchange our daily cuddles," he whispers to you. You smile against his chest and leave light kisses on his skin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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buckymorelikefuckme · 2 years ago

Text

freakness on the loose

dark steve rogers x dark fem reader

words: 2.1k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), spitting, implied/referenced violence. if i missed anything pls let me know!

a/n: this is my first dark fic but i feel like it's more dark-lite djdjdnd anyway i hope you all like it! any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

The booming bass of the club thrummed through you, practically making the blood in your veins vibrate. You sway your hips sensually from your perch on the balcony of the luxury VIP room, watching the people below, waving your fingers flirtatiously at anyone who meets your gaze.

And plenty of people are looking. You’re wearing a skin-tight dress with thin straps, sheer and covered in Swarovski crystals, the only thing underneath it being your tiny black thong, leaving your tits on full display. The chunky, platform heels on your feet made your legs look extra long and toned. You look hot and you know it. It's exactly the type of outfit you wore when you wanted to cause trouble.

As much as you loved teasing people, letting them drink in the image of your body and ache for more, it never took long for you to get bored.

With a dull sigh, you turn around, leaning back against the railing of the balcony and shifting your attention to the men in the room. Steve sits languidly on the velvet sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His expression mirrors your boredom. The man sitting opposite him doesn't seem to care as he drones on and on, stroking his own ego as he talks himself up.

You already knew why Steve wanted to meet with him. A low-ranking dealer who's become a little too self important, thinks he's hot shit and that he runs more than he's been given. Steve hates when his generosity is taken advantage of.

You slowly make your way over to the two men, stopping next to Steve and taking the whiskey from his hand, downing it one go.

The man stops speaking abruptly, cutting off his gloating about getting a personal meeting with the boss. You nearly laugh. It's hilarious that these guys never stop to think how it could be a bad thing to be called in to speak with Steve.

“Goddamn,” the man whose name you didn't bother learning mutters, eyeing your body hungrily. “A woman like you who can handle her alcohol? That's sexy.”

If it wasn't for the music coming from the speakers, the room would be far too quiet in the moment that follows. You turn sharp eyes on the man, who merely smirks.

Hm… This will be fun.

“Yeah? You think I'm sexy?” Your voice is a purr. You step into his space and bury your fingers through his hair, light and unassuming, until you fist the strands harshly and yank his head back. His gasp is thrilling. “You wanna fuck me?”

His eyes are wide, shocked, and he must see the way your own eyes are blazing, because the taunting leer has fallen off his stupid face.

“C’mon, I’m just kidding,” he tries, swallowing roughly as his gaze flits from you to Steve.

You pout. “So you don't think I’m sexy? You’re sending me mixed signals here, baby. Do you want me or not?”

He looks at Steve, apprehension making his shoulders hunch. Steve stares back, face unreadable, which seems to only add to his discomfort.

“Stevie,” you begin, plopping down in the man’s lap, biting back a manic grin at the way he freezes beneath you, hands hovering as far away from your body as possible. “He's hurting my feelings.”

“No, hey, wait—”

“Answer her question.”

The deep, commanding tone of Steve’s voice makes you press your thighs together, eyelids becoming heavier with desire. You adore the way Steve is looking at you right now, at the man whose lap you're perched on. Like he'd rip him to shreds in a blink and fuck you next to his desecrated remains. It's delicious.

“Look, it was just a joke—” the man tries again, but it's nowhere near the right thing to say.

“Ah, so she's a joke to you, then?” Steve wonders, tilting his head.

The man sputters. “N-No! Of course not, I just—” He stops, choosing his words carefully, though he's pretty much dug his grave already. “You're very attractive. The boss is a lucky man.”

Your lips pull up into a grin, tracing the shell of his ear with your thumb. “Do you wanna be a lucky man?”

Sensing he's headed for shark infested waters, the man backtracks. “I think it's time for me to go, actually.”

“Mm, no, that's not happening,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. You boop his nose. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Steve rises from the sofa, tall and imposing. You bite your lip in anticipation.

“Why don't you and your friend come sit here, sweetheart?” Steve suggests, nodding to the sofa behind him.

“Really, sir, I—”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

The man glances warily at you and Steve. You stand, tugging him to follow and shoving him to sit in Steve’s vacated spot, returning to his lap. He keeps his hands to himself still, but you know that's gonna change soon.

Steve leans over, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, licking into your mouth as he cups your jaw. He pulls away and drops to his knees. You shift impatiently on the man’s lap, seeing his hands clench into fists on the cushion out of your peripheral. Steve nudges you back, making you rest your weight along the man’s torso.

“Open up for me, darlin’,” he instructs.

You spread your legs, draping them on either side of the man’s knees.

“Wait, what are you doing?” his strained voice asks.

“Shut up,” Steve replies.

The man’s mouth shuts with an audible click.

Steve pulls your thong to the side and runs the fingers of his free hand along your slick center. You moan softly. He leans in, putting his mouth on your pussy and sinking two fingers inside you.

“Fuck, Stevie, that's good,” you breathe, reaching up to release your tits from the top of your dress so you can pinch your nipples.

Steve continues to fingerfuck you and suck on your clit, bringing you close to your peak within minutes, knowing your body like it's his own. You usually like to cum multiple times, but you're not sure how long he’ll last before he’ll want to take care of the man under you.

He pulls his fingers out, spitting on your cunt before sliding three fingers back inside you, curling them expertly as your whines get louder and louder. Your hips roll, chasing your high. The movement makes the man grow hard beneath you and you laugh. Steve’s noticed, too, of course, and he doubles his efforts, eyes locked on yours as the heat coiling in your belly finally snaps. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you and Steve drags it out until you're twitching. He rises to his full height, sucking his fingers clean as you come down from your high.

“Keep her legs open,” Steve orders as he unbuttons his slacks, lowering the zipper and pulling out his hard cock.

Shakily, and without having to be told a second time, the man cradles your spread thighs. His grip is loose, though, and Steve sneers.

“You wanted to fuck her but that's how you're gonna touch her? That's fucking insulting. Do it right.” The man’s hold tightens and Steve grins, voice low and condescending as he says, “There you go. Now lie back.”

“W-What?” he stutters.

“You heard me. On your back, now.”

The man adjusts your positions, shifting until he can lie sideways on the sofa. Steve’s stare is getting wilder and wilder by the second. He joins the two of you, and knowing what's coming, you wiggle excitedly.

When he finally slides into your dripping cunt, it's with you lying on top of the man while he still holds your legs spread open. Only, now Steve has the man’s legs spread as well, fitting himself between them so that when he fucks into you the man below you feels it too. Steve’s thrusts jostle both your bodies, and giddy giggles bubble out of you mixed with pleasured cries of Steve’s name.

You turn your head, moaning and whining directly into the man’s ear, wanton and needy. You can see the way his face burns in shame and it only adds to the desire building in your core.

“Aren’t you fucking lucky?” you gasp as your pussy welcomes the stretch of Steve’s cock. “You get to witness how good Stevie fucks me.”

He remains silent, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough that you wonder if they'll leave marks. For his sake, you hope not. He's not coming out of tonight unscathed as it is. You'd hate for him to make it worse.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’ll probably watch Steve and his goons teach him a lesson later and it'll be another highlight of your night, second only to this current moment.

“You know, I should chop your fucking hands off at the wrists for touching my girl,” Steve muses, grunting as you clench around him.

“You–You told me to!” the man replies, panicked.

Steve laughs meanly and the sound goes straight to your cunt. “If I told you to walk into oncoming traffic, would you do that, too?” His thrusts get harder, sharper, making you mewl, your hands reaching to pluck at your nipples again. “Little bitches like you never learn,” Steve hisses. “You think you're some big hotshot, just because I give you a job to do. It's fucking pathetic.” He leans down, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the bodies under him as he picks up the pace. “And then when I bring my girl around you stupid pricks, you forget your manners and disrespect her, without fail. You think you can fuck her better than I can? Huh? Answer me!”

“No, sir!”

You're mindless now, mouthing wetly at Steve’s neck, biting and sucking kisses into the skin there, just wanting to feel whatever you can of him. You writhe, whining, begging for more, for release, for everything.

“Who's fucking you so good, sweetheart? Who's wrecking your pretty pussy?” Steve prods.

“Stevie is,” you whimper. “Please, Stevie, make me cum, wanna cum, please.”

Steve lifts himself up, spitting on your clit, smirking at the way it makes you moan, then starts rubbing fast circles into the swollen flesh. You're loud enough now that you're sure the club goers downstairs can hear you. The thought fans the flames in your core.

All too soon, you feel your high cresting. You babble nonsense, hands never staying in one spot, tugging your own hair, your nipples, digging your nails into Steve’s back through his crisp, white button down shirt. When your orgasm hits, you grin like a mad woman.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” you chant, laughing, moaning.

You clench around Steve’s cock, over and over, the pleasure never ending. Steve groans above you, fucking into you roughly as he chases his own high.

“In me, Stevie, please, cum in me,” you beg, “mark me from the inside.”

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, thrusting one, two, three more times before stilling, moaning as he spills inside your cunt.

You hum, entirely pleased, pulling Steve down into a dirty kiss. It takes a few minutes for the rigid body beneath you to register in your cum-drunk brain. You pull away, grinning at Steve as he sits up, sliding out of you. He gathers the mixture of your slick and his cum, bringing it to your lips. With a coy look, you suck on his fingers, swallowing the taste of the two of you with a moan.

“Now,” Steve starts, putting his cock back in his slacks, “my girl’s gonna get up and fix her clothes, and then you and I are gonna head out back to have another chat.”

Resigned to his fate, the man simply nods.

Steve helps you stand and put your thong back in place, pressing kisses to the tops of your tits before you pull your dress back up. You can't resist kissing him one more time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, loving the feel of his large hands on the small of your back. He smacks your ass and breaks the kiss.

“Can't I watch, Stevie?” you ask, jutting your bottom lip out.

“You might get your pretty dress dirty, darlin’.”

You pout. “Please?”

“Okay, okay, I suppose it's fair,” Steve sighs.

You clap your hands happily, giggling. You turn to the man sitting on the sofa who looks two seconds away from bursting into tears and send him a sunny smile.

“It's my turn to watch!”

Steve huffs a laugh, signaling to his men who've been lurking in the shadows to come collect the sorry piece of shit beside you. He doesn't put up too much of a fight, which is a little disappointing, but you're sure he’ll be begging for mercy soon enough.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #dark steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve x you

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gaylittlefantasies2 · 2 months ago

Text

Tom Always Gets What He Wants

With a heavy sigh, Tom's large, muscular form stumbles into the darkened guest room, the scent of stale cologne and whiskey clinging to him like a second skin. The door clicks shut behind him as he fumbles his way towards the bed, his eyes barely adjusted to the darkness. He's thinking about nothing but jerk off and the sweet oblivion of sleep and the promise of the morning's hangover, which is the only thing that could dull the burning desire that's been tormenting him all night.

Tom's hand finds the bedpost and he pulls himself closer, the soft mattress giving way slightly as he lifts one leg to climb in. His erection bobs with the motion, a silent sentinel of his intentions. As he shifts his weight onto the mattress, his hand lands on something warm and unyielding. His eyes widen in surprise and confusion, and he freezes mid-motion, his heart hammering in his chest. The room is so quiet he can hear his own erratic breathing. His brain, fogged by alcohol, takes a moment to process what he's feeling. It's definitely not his own body, and it's definitely not his wife's. Panic flutters in his stomach like a trapped bird as his hand recoils and he whispers a stifled curse.

"Jack?" he murmurs into the darkness, his voice thick with alcohol and disbelief. "What the hell?" The room remains still, and Tom's eyes begin to make out the silhouette of a smaller frame in the bed. It dawns on him that Lily must have had a slumber party. "Jesus," he breathes, his erection slowly subsiding. "It's just Jack," he tells himself, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside. The room spins slightly as he sits on the edge of the bed, his thoughts racing. He's not about to kick the kid out; he's too tired and too drunk to deal with it. With a resigned sigh, he decides to just sleep it off.

The whiskey-soaked haze of Tom's mind starts to clear a little as he looks at Jack, lying there so peacefully. He feels a peculiar mix of embarrassment and protectiveness wash over him. He's seen Jack grow up from a toddler playing in the yard to the bright-eyed boy he is today. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around Jack's waist, pulling him closer. It's a paternal instinct, he tells himself, a simple goodnight hug for his daughter's best friend. But as Jack's body presses against his bare chest, something shifts in the air.

Tom's eyes widen as his still-rigid erection grazes against Jack's thigh. He tries to ignore it, telling himself it's just the alcohol, but his body responds with a jolt of heat that travels from his groin to his cheeks. His heart races and he swallows hard, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He's an alpha, a man's man, and Jack is just a kid. But Jack's skin is so soft, and the way he's wearing Lily's pink, lacy hotpants… It's not right. It's not right at all. Yet, Tom can't deny the sudden, confusing attraction that's sparked within him. He tries to pull away, his hand trembling slightly, but his body seems to have a mind of its own. He can feel the warmth of Jack's skin through the thin material, and his cock responds, pulsing with need.

The whiskey whispers sweet nothings into Tom's ear, urging him to take what he wants, to show this 'delicate' boy what a real man is. His hand tightens around Jack's waist, and despite his mind screaming for him to stop, his hips begin to move in a slow, rhythmic grind against Jack's thigh. It feels so wrong, but so incredibly good. He tries to convince himself it's just a drunken mistake, that it doesn't mean anything. After all, he's the alpha, the one in control here. The friction sends waves of pleasure through his body, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. The room spins around him as he succumbs to the dark allure of his intoxicated desires, his rationality slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The size difference between them becomes increasingly apparent as Tom's large hand wraps entirely around Jack's slender waist, his fingers almost touching. The stark contrast of their sizes sends a thrill through him, and he can't help but feel a twisted sense of power. His ego inflates like a balloon, the thought of his towering physique dominating this innocent, youthful body making his pulse quicken. He squeezes slightly, feeling the delicate bones and soft flesh beneath his grasp. Then, something unexpected happens. The warmth of Jack's body seems to respond, his hips shifting slightly, pressing back against Tom's erection. The room seems to hold its breath as the tension thickens, the air charged with a current that neither of them can ignore. Tom's eyes widen, and he freezes, unsure of what to do next. He's torn between his primal instincts and the horror of what he's doing, but the heat from Jack's body, the soft whine that escapes the boy's lips, it all fuels the fire raging in his loins.

Tom's left side of his upper lip lifts in a silent snarl of lust and disgust as he realizes the object of his desire is a male, not a female. His brain is a whirlwind of confusion and dark excitement, the taboo nature of the situation only adding to his arousal. The size difference between them is stark, with Jack's slim frame almost lost in the shadow of Tom's bulk, but Tom can't help the images that flood his mind. He imagines his thick, powerful cock being squeezed by something tight, so tight it would make him see stars. The thought of breaking through that tightness, claiming something so soft and yielding, sends a tremor through his body. His hand on Jack's waist tightens almost involuntarily, his grip becoming more possessive as his mind descends into a haze of alcohol-induced fantasy. He can feel his dick pulsing, demanding release, demanding to conquer the forbidden territory beneath him. Yet, the fear of what he's doing gnaws at the back of his mind like a trapped animal, a fear that's almost as potent as the desire.

In his drunken state, Tom's thoughts swirl with a mix of confusion and a strange, perverse excitement. He's aware of Jack's slumberous movements, the unconscious arching of his back, and the way his breathing has grown heavier. It's almost as if Jack's body is responding to the pressure of Tom's, the warmth of their proximity. Tom's hand on Jack's waist feels like it's burning, as if Jack's skin is a live wire feeding energy into him. He silently wills the boy to stir, to make some sound of protest or encouragement, anything that will justify his actions in his foggy, inebriated mind. His eyes are glued to the shadowy outline of Jack's form, his erection a silent plea for more contact. The room seems to have shrunk around them, the air thick with the scent of lust and the quiet whispers of their mingled breaths. Each second that passes without a sound feels like an eternity, the anticipation a sweet torture that makes Tom's chest tighten with both dread and anticipation. His fingers twitch, yearning to explore the soft, untouched flesh that lies so tantalizingly close. He's lost in a maelstrom of his own desires, his heteronormative mask slipping away to reveal the raw, primal instincts beneath.

The room is so silent it feels as though it's holding its breath, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and the unspoken tension that crackles between them. Tom's eyes are riveted to the shadowy outline of Jack's form, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he fights the urge to lean in and claim the mouth that's so close to his. His hand on Jack's waist tightens almost imperceptibly, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just above the elastic band of the lacy hotpants. And then, Jack moves again, his hips shifting in a way that's unmistakable, pressing back against Tom's erection with a gentle, but deliberate force. It's as though Jack's body has a mind of its own, responding to the call of the alpha male above him. The sound of the fabric sliding against Jack's skin fills the room as Tom, fueled by a heady mix of lust and fear, decides to push the boundaries even further. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of the hotpants and with a slow, deliberate motion, he lowers them just enough to expose the boy's smooth, unblemished bubble butt. The sight of it sends a jolt through Tom's body, making his cock throb painfully. It's a taboo treasure, a forbidden fruit that he can't resist anymore. His mind is a war zone, the alpha in him roaring in triumph while his conscience cowers in the corner, but the alpha wins out. He needs this, he tells himself, needs to assert his dominance, needs to feel something other than the stale emptiness of his marriage. His hand lingers for a moment, tracing the curve of Jack's hip, the heat of the boy's skin searing into his palm. Then, with a grimace of determination, he presses his erection closer, his body demanding more.

Jack's breathing is deep and even, his eyes still closed as he shifts in his sleep, his body a canvas of unconscious responses. Tom's hand moves away from Jack's waist, his breath catching in his throat as he brings it down to his own erection. The room seems to tilt as he spits into his palm, the sound echoing in the darkness. The saliva mixes with the precum already leaking from his tip, creating a slick film that he uses to coat the head of his cock. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, his inhibitions crumbling like a sandcastle under a relentless wave. His eyes never leaving the boy's form, he lines himself up, his cock poised at the entrance to a place he never thought he'd dare to venture. He whispers Jack's name, his voice hoarse and needy, hoping for a sign, any sign, that this is what the boy wants too. But Jack's only response is a gentle snuffle, his body moving in a way that seems to beckon Tom closer. And so, with a trembling hand and a heart racing like a caged animal, Tom begins to push forward, his cock parting the soft, untouched folds of Jack's innocence.

The tip of Tom's cock meets resistance, Jack's body tight and unyielding. With a grunt of frustration, Tom pauses, his mind racing with the reality of what he's about to do. He's never felt so alive, so powerful, so… terrified. He's about to take something that doesn't belong to him, something that could ruin them both. But the whiskey whispers that it's already too late to turn back, that he's the alpha and this is his right. With a trembling hand, Tom reaches up to Jack's chest, his thumb grazing the boy's nipple. It's a tentative touch at first, but as he feels it harden under his fingertip, something within him snaps. His thumb circles the sensitive bud, his other hand still firmly holding Jack's waist. The sensation seems to ripple through Jack's body, his back arching slightly, his breathing growing more ragged. The sight of Jack's reaction sends a jolt of pleasure through Tom, his cock pulsing with excitement. He pinches the nipple gently, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he presses his cock against Jack's asshole again, applying more pressure.

The resistance at Jack's entrance gives way to the slightest degree, a soft gasp escaping the boy's lips. Tom feels a rush of victory, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum at a tribal ceremony. His hand on Jack's hip tightens as he takes the opportunity to push just a bit more, the head of his erection breaching the tight ring of muscle. The sensation is foreign yet exhilarating, like stepping into a new realm of existence. Jack's body tenses, a whimper escaping him, but Tom interprets it as a whimper of pleasure, not pain. He tells himself that Jack wants this, that he's just inexperienced, that it's his job to show him how it's done. With a grim determination, he leans in, his breath hot against Jack's ear as he whispers, "Shh, it's okay," his voice a mix of reassurance and his own desperate need. He feels Jack's body begin to relax, the tension in the room palpable as Jack's asshole starts to give in, allowing Tom's cock to slide in inch by torturous inch. The warmth and tightness are unlike anything Tom's ever felt before, and he can't help but let out a low groan, his teeth clenched as he fights to keep from going too fast, too hard. The whiskey has dulled his senses, but the raw intimacy of the act pierces through the haze, leaving him feeling more alive and more lost than ever before.

Jack's eyes fly open, a look of confusion and fear contorting his features in the moonlit room. "Mr. T-Tom?" he stammers, his voice cracking with the beginnings of a sob. The reality of the situation crashes down on Tom like a ton of bricks, but his body is already committed, his cock half-sheathed in Jack's tight heat. His hand moves from Jack's hip to cover the boy's mouth, muffling any sounds that might alert the house to his trespass. "Shh," he whispers, his voice strained, "It's okay, buddy. Just relax." But Jack's body tenses further, his eyes wide with panic as he starts to struggle, his small hands pushing against Tom's hipss behind him. The sound of his daughter's name on his lips is a jolting reminder of the friendship he's about to betray. Yet, Tom's arousal is like a beast that's tasted blood, and it won't be denied. He shifts his weight, bearing down on Jack, using his strength to keep the boy still. "You're okay," he murmurs, trying to soothe as he starts to rock his hips, his cock sliding deeper, despite Jack's muffled protests. The room seems to spin around him, a tornado of guilt and lust swirling together, leaving Tom struggling to find the line between his own desires and the innocence he's about to shatter. The smell of Jack's fear is almost overpowering, but Tom's mind is too foggy, too focused on the feeling of the boy's tightness around his cock, to fully comprehend the gravity of his actions. With every thrust, he tells himself it's for the best, that he's showing Jack what it means to be a man. But the horror in Jack's eyes is a mirror to his own soul, and Tom can't help but wonder if he's already gone too far.

The struggle beneath Tom only serves to excite him more, his cock swelling with every whimper Jack tries to muffle against his palm. "So fucking tight," he murmurs, the words slipping out like a prayer to the gods of his perverted desires. His eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together as he forces himself deeper, feeling the warm embrace of Jack's body tighten around him like a vice. The sensation is unlike anything he's ever felt before, a mix of power and pleasure that makes his knees tremble. He's the alpha, the conqueror, the one who takes what he wants. And Jack, sweet, innocent Jack, is the ultimate prize. Finally, with one last, desperate push, Tom feels his balls slap against Jack's ass, a wet sound echoing in the silence. He's in, all the way in, and the feeling is so intense, so overwhelming that he can't help the low, guttural moan that rumbles from his chest. "So good," he whispers, his voice a hoarse rasp that's barely audible over the sound of their ragged breaths. The room seems to pulse around them, the darkness a living, breathing entity that's swallowed them whole. Tom opens his eyes, his vision swimming with lust, and looks down at Jack's trembling form, feeling a twisted sense of pride at the power he holds over the boy. His hips begin to move in earnest now, his cock sliding in and out of Jack's tight asshole with a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. The whiskey has taken him to a place where right and wrong are meaningless concepts, and all that's left is the primal need to claim what's his.

"You're so tight, Jack," Tom groans, his words slurred by the whiskey and his own intoxication. His hand clamps tighter over Jack's mouth, stifling the boy's muffled protests as he thrusts deeper, his hips slapping against Jack's ass with a wet smack. "It's like you were made for this," he says, his voice a mix of wonder and lust. "For me." His eyes are glazed, his pupils dilated with a hunger that's insatiable. He's lost in the feeling, the tightness that grips his cock like a fist, the way Jack's body seems to mold around him, as if it's been waiting for this all along. He's the teacher, the one showing Jack what it means to be a man, and the thought sends a shiver down his spine, making him push harder, faster. "You're going to love this," he murmurs, his voice a lie that's almost convincing.

The room is a blur of shadow and moonlight as Tom's hips move with the ferocity of a caged animal released. His breath is hot and heavy against Jack's neck, his words a string of lewd praises for the tightness that grips his cock. "Your little ass is so good," he grunts, feeling a surge of power with every thrust. But then, something unexpected happens. Jack's body seems to respond, arching back to meet his, the movement so subtle it could be mistaken for a reflex, but it's there. The pressure around his cock shifts, tightens, and loosens in a rhythm that matches his own. Tom's eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. Is Jack… enjoying this? His hand over Jack's mouth muffles any sound, but the way the boy's body moves against him is a silent symphony of confusion and desire. The idea that Jack might not be entirely resistant sends a fresh wave of excitement through him. "That's it," he whispers, his voice a hiss of triumph, "Take it, take it all." His strokes become more erratic, driven by the beast within that's been unleashed by the thrill of the taboo. The bed creaks beneath them, the only sound in the quiet house, a testament to their illicit act.

Tom's eyes are wild with desire as he watches Jack's body respond to his violent intrusion. His hand, still firmly covering Jack's mouth, feels the tremors of the boy's muffled cries, a mix of fear and something else - something that makes his cock throb even harder. He leans down, his hot breath tickling Jack's ear. "Look how good you take it," he whispers, his voice thick with lust, "You're mine now, my little toy. My tight, sweet little slut." His thrusts become more deliberate, more punishing, as he speaks, his cock claiming the untouched territory with every movement. The words fall from his lips like drops of venom, searing into Jack's consciousness and leaving a trail of dark excitement. He feels the boy's body start to shake, the tremors running through him like an earthquake, but Tom is too lost in his own pleasure to care if it's from pain or something else. "You're going to love being my bitch," he murmurs, his hips moving in a steady, relentless rhythm that speaks of his need to dominate. The room is filled with the scent of musk and sweat, the air thick with the tension of the unspoken, the unthinkable. The hand that's not over Jack's mouth roams over the boy's chest, his thumb playing with the now-erect nipple as if it's a toy, a button to push for pleasure. His movements grow more erratic as his orgasm builds, his breathing ragged and desperate. And through the haze of whiskey and desire, Tom sees the unmistakable glint of arousal in Jack's wide eyes, a spark that sends him hurtling over the edge.

Tom's breath hitches, his body coiled tight as an arrow about to be released. "You're going to be my dirty little secret," he whispers, his voice a dark promise, "my sweet little slut." His strokes become more frantic, his cock swelling within Jack's tight heat. The sensation is so intense, so all-consuming, that it feels like his entire being is focused on the point where their bodies meet. He leans in closer, his teeth grazing Jack's ear. "You're going to keep taking it for me, aren't you?" he asks, his voice a low growl that's more demand than question. He feels Jack's body tense, the muscles in his ass tightening around Tom's cock in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. "Mm, that's right," he murmurs. "You like this, don't you?" His words are a mix of reassurance and challenge, a toxic blend that fills the room. The pressure builds, the tension unbearable, as Tom fucks the boy beneath him with an urgency that's borderline feral. "You're going to be my best friend, Jack," he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax, "as long as you keep taking it like a good boy." His hand over Jack's mouth is slick with sweat now, his grip unyielding as the boy's muffled moans grow louder. "Just don't tell anyone, and we'll keep this little secret," he says, his eyes locked on Jack's, searching for some sign of acceptance, of submission. And as Tom feels his orgasm approaching like a freight train, he whispers one last, desperate plea…

Tom's hand, slick with sweat and precum, muffles Jack's cries as he continues his relentless assault. His whispers are a siren's song of filth and dominance, painting a picture of a twisted world where Jack is his to command. "You're going to be my little fuck toy," he says, his voice thick with desire, "and nobody will ever know." The words hang in the air, a declaration of his newfound power, a promise of dark delights to come. And in that moment, Jack nods, his eyes wide with fear and something else, something that sends a thrill down Tom's spine. The nod is almost imperceptible, but it's enough for Tom to feel the last of his restraint snap like a brittle twig. With a roar that's barely contained by his hand, Tom starts to cum, his hot seed filling Jack's tight, virgin ass. His hips jerk erratically, his body shuddering with the force of his release. His eyes squeeze shut as he empties himself into the boy, feeling a sense of ownership that's more potent than any whiskey. The room seems to spin, the walls closing in around them as Tom's orgasm crashes over him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for air, his heart racing in his chest. When he opens his eyes again, Jack's nod is all he sees, the only thing that matters in the shadowy confines of the room. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress against Jack's ear, "That's my good boy." And as he pulls out, his cock slipping from Jack's now-stretched hole with a wet pop, he can't help but feel a twisted sense of pride. He's claimed the boy, made him his, and the thought fills him with a dark satisfaction that's both terrifying and exhilarating.

As his breathing slows and the aftershocks of his orgasm fade, Tom's hand remains firm over Jack's mouth, his eyes searching the boy's for any sign of rebellion. "It's okay, Jack," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm over the harshness of his earlier words. "You're going to keep this between us, right?" His thumb gently strokes the side of Jack's cheek, a gesture that's both tender and threatening. "We're friends, aren't we?" His eyes are intense, boring into Jack's, willing him to understand, to accept. "Best friends," he says, his voice a mix of reassurance and command. "Best friends who share secrets." He leans in, his breath hot against the boy's ear. "This is our secret now," he whispers, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "And if you're a good boy and keep it, I'll make sure you enjoy it." He feels Jack's body go still, the tension draining away as the reality of the situation sinks in. The nod is barely there, but Tom sees it, feels it. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress. He watches the play of emotions across Jack's face, the fear and confusion, the flicker of something else that makes his cock twitch. And with a sense of triumph that's tinged with dread, Tom knows he has the boy right where he wants him.

Slowly, so as not to startle the boy, Tom releases Jack's mouth, his hand lingering for a moment against the softness of his cheek. The sudden absence of the hand is like a dam breaking, and Jack's muffled moans spill out into the quiet room, a mix of pain and something else, something Tom can't quite put his finger on. "Shh," he whispers, placing a gentle finger against Jack's swollen lips. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmurs, his voice a hypnotic purr. He watches as Jack's eyes flutter closed, his body shaking with the aftermath of his first sexual encounter. The sight is almost too much for Tom, and he has to force himself to pull back, to break the intimate connection that's been formed. The room feels too small, too tight around him, and he knows he can't stay here, not with Jack's warmth tempting him. "You were so good," he whispers, his voice thick with unshed emotion. "But I can't stay. We can't let anyone know, okay?" He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jack's forehead, the gesture feeling both wrong and right at the same time. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, his voice a promise that hangs in the air like a noose. "We'll figure this out." With one last lingering look, Tom gets out of the bed, his cock free with a wet cold feeling that makes him shiver. He can't help but feel a twinge of regret, but it's quickly swallowed by the hunger that's already building again, the need to possess, to dominate. He'll be back, he knows it. But for now, he has to leave.

As Jack turns over, the moonlight streams in through the window, casting an ethereal glow over the bed and revealing Tom's naked form to the terrified boy. His cock, still erect and gleaming with the remnants of their encounter, points accusingly at Jack. The sight of it sends a cold chill down Jack's spine, and he can't help the small whimper that escapes him. Tom's body is a sculpture of muscle and sinew, a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection. His chest is heaving, each breath a silent confession of his arousal, his desire for more. But there's something else in his eyes, something that Jack has never seen before - a hunger that's both terrifying and fascinating. He watches as Tom pulls on his boxers, the material straining against his big bulge. "You're going to keep this a secret, right?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "You know what happens to little boys who tell secrets."

With a wink that's more predatory than playful, Tom leans down, his hand lingering on Jack's bare hip. "You've got such a sweet little ass," he murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers through the boy's body. "I can't wait to feel it wrapped around my cock again." His thumb traces a slow, deliberate circle, the touch feather-light, and Jack's body jerks in response. "But for now," he says, straightening up, "it's time for me to go back to my own bed. Don't want to get caught, do we?" His laugh is cold, sending a shiver down Jack's spine. "But I'll be back," he promises, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "We'll have so much fun together, you'll see." With that, he strides out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoes in Jack's soul. The room feels colder, emptier without him, but the heat of Tom's touch lingers on his skin like a brand, a mark of ownership.

The hallway feels like a mile as Tom strides back to his own room, his heart racing with a mix of fear and exhilaration. His hand shakes slightly as he opens the door, the scent of Jack's arousal still clinging to him. The darkness of his own room is a stark contrast to the tension in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He slips into bed beside his sleeping wife, his mind racing with images of Jack's tight, trembling body. He's convinced himself that this isn't 'gay' sex, that it's something else entirely. It's dominance, power, a reassertion of his manhood. He's not attracted to men, he tells himself, it's just the thrill of the forbidden, the rush of taking what he wants. And Jack… Jack is just a boy, a toy to play with, not a partner to love. As he closes his eyes, he can't help but feel a smug satisfaction at his conquest, a feeling that fills him with a warm glow. Tom knows he'll be back for more, that he'll need this secret thrill to keep the fires of his ego stoked. But for now, he'll bask in the aftermath, his thoughts swirling with the heady mix of lust and self-deception that has come to define his nights.

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idabbleincrazy · 6 months ago

Text

Not Whole Without (2/2)

Fandom: Smallville/Dark Knight Trilogy

Rating: E

Pairing: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor/Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 6590

Warnings: pwp, shameless smut, mini-orgy, oral fingering, double oral penetration, double blowjobs, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, deep throating, come swallowing, come eating, come sharing, rimming, anal fingering, anal, spit-roasting, slutty Clark, subby Bruce, top Clark, top Lex, bottom Bruce, bottom Lex, cum-drunk Bruce,

Summary: Trust Lex to know just what they all need.

A/N: wow, I can't believe my first Clex+Bruce fic so very smutty. 😅 Also, I failed to mention it last time, but I picture this Bruce as Christian Bale's Batman from The Dark Knight trilogy. I probably will most times that I write for him.

Squares Filled: "Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?", Oral fingering or Object Insertion, Sex with a couple/sex with friends/sex with strangers/sex with an ex, Strip tease or DP in one hole, "I've gotten rusty in my abstinence.", Accidental Confession or First Kiss ( @julybreakbingo ) Unsure Kiss, Forming a Triad, Spit-roasting, Non-binary/Polyamorus/Pansexual ( @fandom-free-bingo Pride Edition)

Clark let Lex lead him into their bedroom, the sound of Bruce's heartbeat slowly following behind.

"Lex, are you sure about this?"

Stopping the both of them beside the bed, Lex turned around to face Clark full-on. There was no mistaking how turned on the older man was, his eyes dark and stormy, slacks tented painfully. But, there was still tenderness radiating from his gaze, a gentle understanding at the way Clark was reeling from this turn of events.

"Clark, if you, at any time, don't want this, all you have to do is say so." Lex's gaze flicked over his shoulder, and Clark could hear Bruce's heartbeat looming a few feet behind him, the door closing with an almost silent snick. "He'll leave the moment you ask him to. Or the moment I do."

Clark wanted Bruce to take that last step between them, to reach out and touch him; his arm, the back of his neck. But he knew he wouldn't. Bruce always put too much stock in boundary lines. So, Clark turned instead, Lex's hand still in his, his ballast in this uncharted water. Bruce stood there, barely a foot away, his face hardly different from when he gazed out over his city from beneath his cowl. Except for his eyes.

Those ocean-blue irises and blown pupils spoke of the emotion the man fought to hide; hunger, a need so deep, Clark didn't know how the human didn't buckle under its power. He wanted him, them?, too. More than just the aching desire that bulged between his legs. He wanted to be with them.

"Bruce?"

"I'm sorry, Clark." Bruce's voice, while not quite the rumbling timbre of Batman, was still husky as he finally spoke. "I never should have let myself become so attached to you. It was a bad idea from the start, offering myself as your mentor. But I had to know; needed to see what it was about you that had Lex so enraptured, needed to know why you succeeded where so many have failed. And once I did, how could I not fall?"

Clark felt himself blush; belatedly. Letting Bruce watch Lex go down on him, nothing. Hearing Bruce speak so tenderly, like a freaking beacon. This was the Bruce he rarely got to see, the Bruce that had his heart wrenching in distress as it fought to reconcile his love for Lex with his growing affection for his partner in crime-fighting. Clark stepped closer to Bruce, lifting his free hand to his cheek. Softer than he expected, with a hint of stubble scratching lightly against his palm. He watched Bruce's eyes, looking for any sign of rejection, finding none.

Lex heaved a sigh, his patience worn thin.

"Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?" He let go of Clark's hand and stepped around him, slipping his tie from around his collar as he maneuvered himself between them, his chest pressing against both of their sides. "Clark, really, you're making this so much more of a production than it needs to be. After six months of learning everything there is to know about Clark Kent, Bruce has inevitably found himself very nearly as much in love with you as I am. And, inadvertently, fell in love with me all over again. You, a man of impeccable taste in men, if not attire, couldn't help but find yourself growing enamored with the enigmatic, brilliant, devilishly handsome man who showed you the ropes of do-gooding and gave you all the helpful advice you could ever seek, even as you tore yourself up about having such feelings for anyone other than me. Even though those feelings never lessened in the company of these new ones. And me, well, you know me, Clark. I don't let just anyone in, and when I do, they're in my heart forever. He wants us, Clark. Both of us. Just let yourself have this. We can work out the details along the way, like we always do."

Clark, his hand still cupping Bruce's cheek, looked over at Lex, gauging his sincerity. It helped that Lex admitted to having feelings for Bruce, too. And there didn't seem to be any trace of a lie in his eyes, eyes that were more open and unguarded than they ever were when he was just trying to get his way. This was more than Lex being horny and looking for a threesome.

Turning back to Bruce, Clark leaned in slowly, encouraged as he saw Bruce's eyes flick down to his encroaching mouth. Hesitantly, he closed the small gap between them, pressing their lips together. And everything just clicked, the rightness of it all. The press of Lex's body along his side, his hand resting against the small of his back, Bruce's mouth beneath his, warm and unexpectedly pliant, his hand coming up to cup the back of his head. As Bruce's lips parted for his inquisitive tongue, Clark thought maybe, just maybe, this could actually work. And that was the last thought on the subject he was going to allow himself for the night as the taste of Bruce, of whiskey and cool night air, burst on his tastebuds.

All too soon, Lex tugged at his jaw, and wasn't it a testament to how lost in the kiss he was that Lex hadn't hurt himself with the action, pulled him to his own mouth, lips crushing to his in a bruising, fleeting kiss. A swipe of his tongue over Clark's lips and a growl of hunger, and then he released Clark's chin, turning to Bruce and pulling him into a devouring kiss. Panting, Clark watched the two billionaires, his cock giving a painful throb of reminder.

Bruce came to life under Lex's mouth, teeth nipping at Lex's lip. Apparently, the brunette had been coiled tight, allowing Clark to lead, take those first tentative steps; now he'd snapped, his free arm wrapping around Lex's waist and crushing the bald man to him, his other hand still carding through Clark's hair, possibly tugging harshly at the strands ineffectively, as his tongue delved into Lex's gasping mouth. God, they were beautiful together. Clark could come just watching them, and if he and Lex had looked anything like that, Bruce had more self-control than he realized.

He watches them struggle for control of the kiss, neither one gaining the upper hand for more than a few seconds. Bruce's hand is no longer in his hair, instead joining the other in his mad scrabble to relieve Lex of his suit. Lex's jacket is stripped off his shoulders, tossed carelessly to the floor. Buttons ping as Bruce rips his lilac shirt open, revealing a pale, hairless chest.

"You're paying for that", Lex growls through the panting breaths he's taking, pushing Bruce back towards the wall beside the bed. "Christ, Bruce…bastard!"

"Name calling will get you nowhere, Luthor." Bruce is smiling at Lex smugly, his voice pitched to Batman.

Lex snarls at him and redirects his attention back to Clark, pulling him into a kiss no less devouring, albeit less violent, than the one he'd just shared with Bruce.

"Get naked, Clark, while I ready Bruce for his welcome into our bed."

Clark nodded dumbly, loosening his tie at human speed as Lex stalked back to where Bruce stood, shedding his ruined shirt along the way.

Lex stepped up to Bruce and began working the buttons of his crisp white button down, taking the care Bruce hadn't bothered with.

"You left me." Lex's voice was dangerous, and Clark caught Bruce's face soften at the sound of it, his eyes reflecting regret. "You told me you loved me, and then you left me."

Bruce let Lex finish removing his shirt, then caught his wrists tightly, tugging the slimmer man flush against him.

"I had to, Lex. God, I never wanted to leave you, but I needed to get away from Gotham, from the life that was set before me by my parents. I'm sorry I left you to Lionel's tender mercies, but you were too young. I couldn't legally take you with me. And now, I'm glad I left you behind."

"What?"

Bruce brushed a soft kiss across Lex's mouth and turned him around to face Clark, who had stripped out of his shirt and was working on his pants, the button popped, boxers visible where the placket gaped open as his hands stilled momentarily.

"Look what you found while I was away. Clark protected you in a way I never could." Bruce grazed his lips against the sensitive skin behind Lex's ear as he spoke, and Clark watched the shudder run through Lex's slim, pale body. Bruce's eyes caught Clark's, and he let one hand drift down Lex's bare chest to slip beneath his trousers, eliciting a gasp when his fingers wrapped around the solid flesh. "If you had come with me, you never would have fallen in love with him; and neither would I. We would've been missing him, without even being able to understand why we felt that way."

Clark continues undressing as the two older men watch, pushing pants and boxers down his legs and stepping out of the puddle of fabric at his feet. His cock is hard and leaking and curved up to his stomach, and he lets a hand drift down to stroke himself, needing to keep his mind free of the thoughts he promised himself he wouldn't allow to intrude on this night of passion.

"Fuck, Lex", Bruce groans in Lex's ear, the hand down his pants rubbing teasingly along the hard shaft it's holding. "He's so beautiful. Just like you. Watching the two of you out there, that was the hottest thing I've seen in years. I could almost feel you, when your mouth was around him; I remember how perfect your mouth always was."

"Not as good as his, Bruce, trust me. It's like he was made for it. Almost impossible to make him gag, and he can hold his breath for so fucking long."

"Well, we'll just have to put that to the test, won't we?" Clark watched Bruce's arm flex, his hidden hand eliciting a drawn-out groan from Lex. "Now, weren't we supposed to be holding off on all the emotional parts for later?"

"Yeah, well, you know me, Bruce. I rarely take my own advice. But don't worry, we're back on track now." And with that, Lex forced himself to pull away from Bruce's grasp, walking the few steps to where Clark stood. "Wanna see if you can take us both, Clark? See if that sweet mouth can stretch wide enough to fit two cocks?"

Clark groaned at the thought of that, and nodded, squeezing his hand around the base of his cock to hold back the sudden urge to come. Lex grinned and pulled him into a quick and dirty kiss. Releasing Clark, he swiftly undid his slacks, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side.

Bruce stepped up beside Lex, fully naked now, and Clark spared a second to lament missing the slow reveal of the thick, hard cock that jutted out from his groin. Lex lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to Clark's lips, pushing forward as he opened his mouth for them.

"Bruce, want a preview?" Lex raised an eyebrow and gestured between Bruce's hand and Clark's mouth. Bruce took the hint and slid his own fore and middle finger into Clark's mouth beside Lex's. "Suck them, Clark. Show Bruce how it's going to feel when you're wrapped around our dicks."

Clark obeyed readily, taking the four digits in as deep as he could, suckling them without a care for the noise he made. He felt Lex stretch his fingers out towards his cheek, the nails brushing against the back of his throat, almost tickling. Bruce groaned as Clark hollowed his cheeks, suctioning around the digits pressing against his tongue, thrusting his gently deeper, testing Clark.

"Jesus, Lex, you weren't kidding."

"Uh huh. Add another. Let him get used to the stretch a bit."

Bruce pulled his fingers back, adding his ring finger on the next slide in. Clark gagged a little at the added girth, but quickly managed to adjust, sucking just as eagerly at the new addition. He lapped his tongue over whatever flesh he could reach, his mind filling with images of both mens cocks taking the place of the spit-slick digits. His cock throbbed and he let out a pleading whine.

Lex took pity and removed his fingers, nudging Bruce to do the same when the brunette continued to finger the shiny mouth.

"Kneel for us, baby."

Clark dropped to his knees and didn't bother waiting for Lex's next instruction, immediately flicking his tongue out over the leaking head of Lex's cock. Lex moaned at the light touch and angled himself against Clark's side to be able to slide his cock into the wet heat of his mouth and leave room for Bruce to do the same. Bruce mirrored his stance on the other side, a loud, guttural sound falling from his mouth as he eased his cock in beside Lex's.

Clark let his eyes fall closed as two hands gripped at his hair, moving into their guidance so they wouldn't hurt themselves trying. The feeling of two thick cocks pushing deep into his slackened mouth, of two fat cockheads pressing against the back of his throat, had his arousal surging, and he thrust his own neglected cock into the empty air, struggling not to touch himself. If he did, he would come, and he wasn't exactly sure he wouldn't inflict some serious damage on both men if he lost control of his muscles.

"God, Clark. You're amazing." Bruce was panting above him; Clark could hear his heart hammering in his chest as he thrust deeper into the tightness of his throat. He thrilled at knowing he was able to generate such a reaction from the normally reserved man. "Such a beautiful cocksucker. Fuck, Lex, how do you ever get anything done, knowing you can have this any time you want?"

"It's a hardship, I know. Next time, I'll let you have the full experience." Lex guided Clark's mouth all the way down their girthy shafts, his free hand coming to soothe Clark's throat as he struggled to relax his gag reflex. "How's your stamina these days, Bruce? If you're one and done, pull out now, 'cause I want you hard when we fuck you."

Clark felt Bruce shudder, a spurt of pre-come sliding down his throat.

"I can go as many times as you need me, Lex. Trust me, after six months of restraint, there's plenty in my reserves."

Clark forced his eyes open as he felt both cocks thicken further, and pulled back along their throbbing lengths, wanting to see and taste them as they came. He had timed it perfectly, just as he had the tips of both cocks pressed against his tongue, Bruce stiffened beside him, a drawn-out growl falling from his lips as his orgasm hit him. Lex thrust his cock into the cum coating Clark's tongue, leaning towards Bruce to mouth at his neck and cry out his own release. Clark felt his own aching cock spurt at the taste of their combined spend, and forced himself to keep his jaw slack as he came.

As their climaxes ended and Clark regained his control, he cleaned away every trace of cum from their still-hard cocks, suckling the head of each in turn as he released them. Licking his lips as he looked up at them from beneath his lashes and unruly bangs, he was surprised to find himself pulled up to his feet by Bruce and drawn into a hungry kiss.

Bruce groaned at the taste of himself and Lex on Clark's tongue as he suckled the wet muscle. He had to admit, the mix was a heady one, and further proof that the three of them made the perfect combination. His hand slid from where it was gripping Clark's bicep, down his chest into the rivulets of Clark's own release. Trailing his fingers through the sticky drops, he gathered up a good glob of it and raised it to their joined mouths. The addition of Clark's cum to the traces of his and Lex's, had Bruce amending his previous sentiment; this was the perfect combination.

Reaching out his free hand, he sought out Lex, pulling him into the kiss, both him and Clark turning their heads to awkwardly lap at his mouth, bringing more of Clark's spend up for Lex to lick away from both their lips.

Unable to wait any more, Bruce broke the three-way kiss and pushed Clark backwards onto the bed, thankful for Lex's need to over-indulge with certain things. Climbing up after him, Bruce settled between Clark's spread legs, leaning over him to lap up the sticky remnants of his cum from his abdomen. Clark was still hard, even after two orgasms, the thick length shiny with trails of spend, and Bruce trailed his mouth down to the ruddy appendage. He felt the bed dip, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lex bending over Clark to whisper something in his ear before capturing his mouth, muffling the moan Bruce caused as he slid his tongue teasingly over the plummy head of his cock.

Cleaning away the last traces of cum, Bruce sat up, watching the pair kiss, Lex's hands braced against the mattress either side of Clark's head as one of Clark's giant hands cupped the back of Lex's neck, the other dipping down between Lex's legs to play and tease. With his cock eager to get to his promised fucking, Bruce interrupted them.

"As much as I enjoy watching the two of you, Lex, I remember you saying something about the two of you fucking me?"

Both heads whipped towards him, their eyes exuding hunger he was sure was reflected by his own gaze. Lex pulled away and shuffled around on the overly large bed as Clark stood back up. Lex tugged Bruce to the center of the mattress, urging him onto his hands and knees.

"I'm going to take your mouth, Bruce, and Clark's going to take your ass." Bruce couldn't hold back the shudder of arousal at that, the thought of being speared between the two of them testing his control. "Tell me, though, for prep, would you prefer familiar, or new?"

Much as he had always loved the way Lex opened him up the few times he had bottomed for him, Bruce couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel Clark's fingers stretching him.

"New." He looked up at Lex, and knew he hadn't offended him with his decision. There would be time for all permutations of their coupling, and none of them would ever intentionally make one of the others feel left out.

Lex smirked and looked over Bruce's shoulder.

"Clark…"

The bed dipped behind Bruce and he felt Clark's weight settle between his legs, his hands gripping his thighs and spreading them wider. Bruce hummed softly as he felt Clark's hands slide up his thighs to cup the globes of his ass, spreading the cheeks apart. He hadn't felt this vulnerable in so long, even longer since he felt so completely safe at the same time.

"How long has it been, Bruce?" Lex's smile had softened slightly as he watched Bruce's reactions.

"Years. Not…I haven't bottomed since you."

"We'll have to get you nice and stretched, then, won't we?" Bruce groaned as Lex's words were accompanied by the first brush of Clark's finger over his puckered hole. "You'll enjoy this, Bruce; I know I always do."

When the finger moved away, Bruce expected the tell-tale sound of a bottle opening; it never came. Instead, Clark shifted between his legs, and he let out a loud yelp as Clark's tongue swiped over the furled ring of muscle. Lex chuckled and bent down to kiss him, his tongue delving into Bruce's mouth to smother his moan as he let his eyes flutter shut. He had never thought Clark would rim him without some serious begging and convincing. For him to do so unbidden, on their first night together, showed him that Clark really was more like himself and Lex than he had realized.

Bruce was breathless when Lex broke the kiss, Clark's tongue swirling over his hole sloppily and noisily. His cock throbbed between his legs, his earlier climax barely making a difference with the way the two men were driving him wild. He knew Clark could hear how fast his heart was thumping, hell, he could probably smell how hot for it he was.

Lex watched as Clark rimmed Bruce, his cock aching in remembrance of his own experiences of that sinful tongue slowly working him open.

"Christ, Clark. I never realized how hot you look like this. You are never eating my ass from behind again if you look anything like this." Clark moaned from between Bruce's spread cheeks, the action drawing a similar response from the older man beneath him. "On my back, from now on, so I can watch you getting me all wet and stretched for you. Fuck, I'm going to suck your cock, Clark."

Bruce forced his eyes open as he felt Lex moving around, twisting his head over his shoulder to watch the lithe man lay down on his back under Clark. A rumbling vibration against his asshole alerted him to the moment Lex had taken Clark's cock into his mouth, and he pushed back against Clark's slick mouth, needing more.

"Clark, please. Fuck, feel so good; need you in me."

Clark obliged, his tongue stiffening to prod into Bruce's loosening hole. Between the dark taste of Bruce on his tongue and the feel of Lex's warm mouth around his cock, he knew he would come again before he finished preparing the brunette that writhed beneath him.

Lex took as much of Clark's cock down his throat as he could manage, his tongue laving along the girthy shaft. Stretching out a hand, he wrapped his fingers around Bruce's hard length, stroking it in time to Clark's thrusts into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Lex! You are evil, after all. Fuck, tighter, Lex." Bruce thrust his hips, pushing into the tight grip of Lex's hand, and back onto Clark exploring tongue. He cried out in pleasure as he felt Clark easing a finger into him beside his tongue, the thick digit tugging at his rim. "Shit! Yeah, Clark, like that. More. Want you, Clark."

Clark felt his third orgasm surging fast despite his previous releases as he slid another finger into Bruce, stretching them out to flick his tongue deeper into the warm passage. Lex was swallowing around him, his muffled grunts vibrating along his shaft, and he could hear the slick sounds of skin on skin as Lex jerked himself and Bruce off. Scraping his teeth over the edge of Bruce's rim, he felt him stiffen suddenly, his hole spasming around him as the older brunette came with a shout. Pulling away with one last noisy lick of his tongue, Clark focused on fucking the mouth that still worked his cock.

"Jesus, fuck, Clark! Lex! Want you."

Bruce rode out his climax on Clark's fingers, a particularly large spurt of cum bursting forth as he thrust back on the thick digits, feeling the tips prodding against his prostate. Clark continued stretching him as he sought his own release down Lex's throat, the bed shaking from their efforts.

Lex let go of Bruce's sticky cock, his cum-slick hand immediately pulled up to Clark's mouth, his other hand speeding along his aching shaft as he felt Clark's tongue laving away Bruce's spend. Between the sounds of Bruce fucking himself on Clark's fingers, the feel of Clark's thickening cock stretching his throat, and Clark's wet tongue licking between his fingers, Lex let his climax wash over him, his screaming of pleasure muffled by Clark's thrusting length.

A light spatter of cum landed on Clark's lower back as Lex came, and Clark stilled above the two mortal men, cock and fingers buried deeply in mouth and ass as his own orgasm was triggered by the tightening of Lex's throat around him.

"Oh, God! Lex…Bruce…so fucking good. So perfect. Love your mouth, Lex." Clark babbled as he came down Lex's swallowing throat, this orgasm more intense than the last. "And, God, Bruce, your ass…so fucking sweet, so tight. Lex and I are going to be fighting over who gets to work you open every time we fuck."

Lex let his released hand slide over Clark's chest as he rode out his release, fingers pinching taut nipples, relishing the slide of thick cum down his throat. Finally, as his and Clark's climaxes subsided, Clark easing his cock from Lex's abused throat. Lex squirmed out from beneath him, licking up his own cum from Clark's backside as he kneeled up on the bed.

"Goddamn, I love your cock, Clark." Lex scooped up the bottle of lube he had set aside, handing it to Clark as he clambered up the bed to kneel in front of Bruce. Leaning down, he kissed Bruce soundly, sharing the lingering taste of their Kryptonian partner. "And, trust me, Bruce, so will you. Still up for another round?"

"I'm insulted you think you even have to ask, Lex. Believe me, if his cock feels anywhere as good as his fingers, I'm not waiting."

Bruce moaned in remorse as he felt Clark's fingers slip out of him, but the sound of a bottle snicking open behind him sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. With Clark unable to contract human diseases, and Lex's mutated healing, Bruce knew condoms would never be an issue, and he didn't think he'd want Clark fucking him any other way than bareback. He felt Clark reach beneath him, slick fingers stroking his cock back to full hardness in a matter of seconds. Lex, himself, was only half-hard, and Bruce couldn't wait to feel that long, slim cock growing thicker along his tongue.

"Gonna fuck you so hard." Clark's voice was it's Superman rumble, confident and commanding, as he leaned over and pressed heated kisses along Bruce's back. Bruce could feel the thick shaft of his cock rubbing between his cheeks, and his cock twitched hard. "Six months, Bruce, six months of imagining this, thinking I could never have it. Ask Lex how explosive it was when we finally came together."

"God, I thought we were going to bring the mansion crumbling down around us." Lex leered down at Bruce. "I felt him for days, he fucked me so good."

"Jesus. Clark, stop teasing. In me, now." Bruce let his voice growl, urgency driving him to the animal side of himself he reigned in so tightly. "Take me, both of you."

Clark groaned and slicked his cock quickly, notching the head at Bruce's relaxed pucker, watching Lex. As Lex pressed his own cock past Bruce's lips, Clark thrust slowly forward, the two of them skewering their new lover simultaneously. The head of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle, and Clark fought not to thrust completely into the tight heat of Bruce's ass. Bruce groaned around Lex's cock, pushing back against Clark's piercing cock despite the burn of the stretch.

Lex pulled his cock out briefly as Bruce strove to take all of Clark's long, thick cock, wondering if his face looked so blissed out every time Clark fucked him. When he saw that Bruce's ass was flush against Clark's groin, Clark's hands soothing along Bruce's sides as the older man adjusted to the girth, Lex thrust his cock back into Bruce's mouth, sliding the length slowly down until Bruce's nose was buried in the sparse auburn curls around his base. God, he'd missed this mouth; no less perfect than Clark's and uniquely sublime in a completely different way than his Kryptonian lover's.

Pulling out halfway, Clark thrust back in, angling his cock to rub over Bruce's prostate, his enhanced vision tuning in to guide the way.

"Fuck, Bruce. Your ass is so fucking amazing. So tight and hot." Clark's hands slid down Bruce's back to grip tightly at his hips, shifting him between himself and Lex to start a rocking rhythm. "Gonna tie both of you down one night, just take turns fucking each of you 'till you can't even sit down at a board meeting without thinking of my cock filling you up. Christ, how did either of you ever get anything done? Lex, can you manage another after you come in his mouth? I wanna fuck you, too."

Lex groaned loudly and thrust deeper into Bruce's lax throat, somewhat surprised by just how horny Clark was tonight.

"Jesus Christ, I can sure as hell try, Clark. God, even if I don't come, I'm not saying no to having your dick split me open." Lex heard Bruce grunt around his cock and looked down, thrilled at the way their conversation was clearly driving him crazy. He cupped Bruce's cheek, drawing his gaze up to his smirking face. "Maybe I'll even slide my cock into Bruce's dripping hole while you do. Let you fuck me into him, your cum easing the way."

Bruce shuddered, a full body convulsion, and came. He felt his face heat slightly in shame at his total loss of control, but he couldn't stop the sudden orgasm that rocketed through him, huge spurts of cum soaking the already damp comforter.

Clark growled as Bruce clamped down around him, the already tight passage now squeezing him enough that it would have been painful for a human. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fought not to immediately follow Bruce into orgasm as the brunette writhed and shook in his grip.

"Guess you liked that idea, eh, Brucie? Made you pop like a pricked balloon. And still so good about the teeth, even in the throes of pleasure."

Lex slipped his fingers through Bruce's hair, tugging him along the shaft of his throbbing cock, eager to come. The thought of him and Clark filling Bruce's mouth and ass with their spend had him hard as a rock. These two men were proving to be better aphrodisiacs than anything he'd ever happened across. Feeling the head of his cock slip down into Bruce's throat, Lex let his head fall back on his shoulders and thrust his hips in aborted movements, fucking the tight passage with abandon as his climax coursed through him.

Bruce gulped the sticky fluid eagerly, still reeling from his own release, the constant pressure of Clark's cick against his prostate keeping his own erection from flagging. He licked up along the shaft as Lex withdrew, heady from the taste and the rapid-succession orgasms. He felt almost high, euphoric like that really good batch of X Lex had cooked up for fun that one summer. After six months of forgoing even masturbating - a deluded attempt to abate all thoughts of Clark beyond the professional - and years since he'd been on the receiving end of any kind of sex outside of a quick, perfunctory blowjob, his hormones were going a little berserk.

"God, Bruce, didn't know you were such a slut for cock, coming at just the thought of Lex fucking you while you're still full of my cum. You're just full of surprises, aren't you, baby?"

Clark rode Bruce's ass harder, chasing his own release now, desperate for it, some Kryptonian instinct driving him to claim this new addition to their bed, just as he had needed to claim Lex their first time. He felt his cock twitch hard, thickening further inside the clutching hole, and roared out his need as he came. Ropes of cum jettisoned from his pulsing cock, filling Bruce so quickly that he could feel it seep out around his cock after the first few spurts. He wondered if Bruce would let them plug him after Lex fucked him? The thought of keeping Bruce stretched and ready for them, slick with their seed and his belly bulging from the excessive fluid, triggered another load of cum, and he thanked his alien physiology that he couldn't have an aneurysm from overexertion.

As his climax finally receded, Clark eased his cock slowly from Bruce's reddened, leaking hole, reluctant to leave the tight ass that had given him so much pleasure, but eager to sink himself into Lex. He knew there was always great pleasure to be had there, as well. By the way Bruce's weight sagged in his grip, he knew he was the only thing keeping the nearly spent human from collapsing to the mattress in a limp sprawl.

"Jesus, Clark. I knew you'd be good at that, but that was beyond anything I could have imagined."

Lex chuckled at Bruce's slurred voice, knowing his once-ex was officially cum-drunk. He quickly maneuvered Bruce up the bed so that he lay on his side, facing him, his head cushioned on one of the plush pillows. He laid out beside him, leaning in to kiss him languidly as he felt Clark spoon up beside him. One more round, and they would no doubt fall asleep just like this, covered in each other's sweat, saliva, and semen. Lex would grumble when he woke up sticky, but he knew Clark would kiss away any complaints and swiftly remind him why it was a good idea at the time.

"God, you're still so beautiful when you come, Bruce. Though I hadn't realized you'd become a hair-trigger."

"I've gotten rusty in my abstinence. I can't believe I came so quick, without even being touched. Your sailor mouth I'm used to," Bruce flashed Lex a pointed look, before casting his gaze over Lex's shoulder, "but hearing you talk like that, Clark, I couldn't hold back."

"I liked it. I like knowing that you're so hot for me, for Lex, that you can't help yourself. Lex knows." Clark bit lightly at Lex's neck, eliciting a deep groan.

"Oh, yeah. Our boy gets extra hot knowing he can turn me into a puddle of goo with just a well-placed suggestion, or a teasing touch. That shy, reserved farm-boy-turned-reporter doesn't exist when it comes to sex. Now, you gonna fuck me, Clark, or am I going to have to fuck Bruce with my own strength?"

Clark barked a laugh and reached for the lube he'd set between them. He poured the slightest amount of lube onto Lex's cock, knowing Bruce was plenty stretched and wet. Slicking up his fingers, he slid his hand down between Lex's firm cheeks, finding his tight hole practiced ease. Lex let out a whine of pleasure as Clark rubbed a finger around his rim, slipping the digit in slowly as the furl loosened.

As Clark worked him open, Lex gripped Bruce's outer thigh, tugging him closer so that Lex was slotted between his legs. He draped the leg over his and Clark's hips, leaving the older man spread open. Thrusting back onto Clark's questing fingers, his cock slid down between Bruce's legs, behind his nearly depleted sac, to nestle into the opening of his twitching hole. Lex could feel Clark's cum dripping from the used hole, and he moaned at the slick warmth that trickled down his shaft. He was tempted to thrust himself into the brunette to the hilt, but knew he wouldn't have to wait long for Clark's invading cock to push him into Bruce.

As if he'd suddenly gained telepathy, Clark removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock. Lex let his head fall back against Clark's shoulder with a loud groan as he was filled completely in a single thrust. It hurt, but in the best way, his cock twitching where it was held in place against Bruce's stretched rim. Another groan was ripped from his throat as Clark pushed him into Bruce, the wet, tight heat surrounding his cock like a vise in this position.

Bruce keened, the sudden thrust of Lex's cock into him making him clutch at Lex's shoulder, his leg clenching against the swell of Clark's ass. Lex flung an arm back to grip at Clark, his other hand tangling in Bruce's hair to pull him into a desperate kiss. He really didn't know if he could manage to come again, but his cock was giving a valiant effort, throbbing back to life inside the tight passage, his prostate pummeled with each quick thrust of Clark's hips. Sounds of flesh slapping sweatily against flesh, of Clark's grunts and Bruce's muffled moans, spurred him on.

"This is…fucking…incredible," Clark panted in Lex's ear, teeth scraping against his neck. "Next time, I want you in my ass like this, Lex, fucking me into Bruce. Jesus, not gonna last. Too good."

Lex agreed, the feeling of Bruce wrapped around his cock, driving into his clenching passage while surrounded in Clark's cum, the steady thrust of Clark's huge cock into his own twitching hole, was just too much to keep control over the amazing fourth orgasm he felt rushing up his spine. With the way Bruce clutched at them both as Lex kissed him sloppily, told him they were all in sync on the subject.

Burying his face in the crook of Lex's shoulder, his hand reaching out to clutch the other two to him, Clark jackrabbited his hips in a succession of bruising thrusts as he gave in to his need for release. As he poured whatever was left of his seemingly endless supply of cum into Lex, he felt Bruce and Lex stiffen in his embrace, both men moaning out the orgasms he'd wrung from their overstimulated bodies.

Bruce went limp in Lex's and Clark's grasps, unused to the onslaught of sensations coursing through him after so long. He whited out for a few seconds, his cock still spurting trickles of cum onto his and Lex's chests when he came back to consciousness. He could feel Lex's cock still pulsing inside him, and he was amazed at how much the mutated, but still essentially human, man could come in such a short time span. He definitely had his work cut out for him with these two.

Lex felt like he was floating, his whole body felt weightless, like if Clark and Bruce unwound themselves from him, he would drift up into the atmosphere. He'd had some spectacular sex with both these men, separately. Together, it was beyond his ken. His cock surged in Bruce's spasming hole, his cum mingling with Clark's, coating the passage and his shaft in the sticky substance. His ass throbbed deliciously as Clark's orgasm petered out and the Kryptonian eased carefully out of his twitching hole.

As he'd suspected, Lex felt Clark use his speed to pull the covers from underneath his and Bruce's lax and sated bodies, slipping back in behind him before draping the sheets back over them. Lazy kisses were shared between the three of them, lips pressing to whatever skin could be reached. As Lex let his eyes droop closed, he heard Bruce's soft snores issuing from in front of him, and felt the gentle sweep of Clark's fingers over heated skin at his back. Enveloped so snuggly between past, present, and future, Lex let himself drift off to sleep, a sated smile on his face. He loved it when a plan succeeded without a hitch.

~~~~~~~~

@leatafandom

#Smallville #smallville fanfic #clex #clex fanfic #lemon #jbbingo2024 #ffb pride edition

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yzzart · 2 years ago

Text

— My fire.

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: by the looks of it, your uncle's room has become your favorite place and where you spend most of your time.

warnings: incest, minors DNI, SMUT (18+!!!!), sexual content, sexual description, breeding kink, explicit language.

word count: 4.316!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

Probably, rumors about the real reason for your absence from the regions and some castle meetings would spread throughout the King's ladding. — But at that very moment, you didn't care about that.

Those whispers, which weren't lies, might reach your parents' ears, but who were they to judge or slander yours actions? After all, they practiced the same thing.

An old saying, which in addition to being used a lot in your family, could define your actions against those of your parents. — Like parents, like daughter.

The only thing you were truly caring about was the man who was doting your body sweetly. — And who you were on his lap.

A huge, somewhat familiar hand gripped the fleshy part of your exposed thigh tightly. That grip freed you from your lonely, ragged thoughts, and would probably turn that part red and maybe purple. — And that act made your mouth escape a thin, needy moan.

A smile with a huge hint of mischief crept across Aemond's thin, slightly swollen lips. He wanted you to go back to focusing on just him and the pleasurable touches he was giving you, and by the looks of it; the one-eyed man had succeeded.

If Aemond Targaryen wants something, he gets it.

Aemond didn't expect you to say anything and just moved his other hand to his jaw, taking it carefully, and directing your face against his. — You, at no time, dared to prevent that action and no reason to stop doing that incompetence against your lover.

"What is my sweet niece thinking, hm?" — Aemond's nimble hand moved a little towards your cheek, gently caressing that part of your face. That act of affection and compassion almost made your eyes close to enjoy the sensation. — He knew you liked to be taken care of and especially from him.

It was so naive the way you accepted and needed his touch. You wanted Aemond's hand were on you, exploring your body or just giving a simple touch at every moment of your life and you weren't ashamed to admit it.

The answer was so clear and obvious. Your warm gaze, passing the sensation of passion against the one-eyed one, showed and showed what the simple, short answer was. — You. — The only thing on your mind was your beloved and feared uncle.

Aemond leaned into your face, gripping your waist so you remained balanced on his lap, and thrusts his rough mouth close to your chin. Distributing small kisses and quick bites around the region, drawing deep sighs from you, Aemond makes a point of slowly walking a small path to your mouth. — He wanted to play with you a little, even though he knew that moment was not right for his little games.

"Aren't you really going to answer me, my princess?" — The miserable teasing Aemond was practicing on you was considered torture for you. He directed his lips, continuing with the small kisses, to your mouth but soon, he owed your. — And he continued with the countless kisses on your face. — "I can't believe you're disobeying your dear uncle."

A mocking smile appeared on Aemond's lips. You felt it against your cheek. When you felt that smile well, you felt your body shudder; as if suffering some kind of internal shock. — Just a hellish smile made the wetness, which was between your legs, grow even more.

Your legs, somehow, tried to squeeze together to ease the pleasurable feeling that was building, — Your legs longed for the older man. The painful pleasure and desire only increased — and of course Aemond sensed it.

"You trying to get pleasure is a god-blessed fucking sight." — Aemond gasped as he removed his hand, which was at your waist, and positioned it on the only piece of clothing you had left.

The white colored panties, like a soft like snow, was completely soaked. A husky growl escaped Aemond's mouth on purpose as his nimble fingers brushed the lace aside and finally felt the hot, wet feel of your pussy. — It was so good, and it was everything to him.

Everything for him. — That fact drove Aemond crazy and excited him more and more.

Aemond knew that that piece of cloth could get in the way of his future plans, so quickly the thin, expensive cloth is ripped by the prince's nimble and strong hands. Aemond didn't need to make any effort, it was like a soft, helpless sheet of paper. — You didn't fail to let out a surprised cry after the young man's action.

Aemond's fingers slid past your tiny entrance, tickling agonizingly and planting more pleasure in your body, but, continuing with his little torture, Aemond didn't plunge his rough fingers into you. — It was driving your mind crazy, making you so desperate.

Your lips were being hurt by yourself, biting them hard and trying to hold back the screams that were threatening to escape your mouth. — But, your traitorous mouth made you make small thin moans for Aemond.

"Aemond..." — You pleaded with a broken voice. Gathering strength, you moved your hand to the back of Aemond's neck. Slightly running your nails, trying to get the white haired man's attention. For the second time, you felt a small smile form on Aemond's lips.

"Hm?" — He murmured against your chin. — "You need to use the words, my love." — You felt the middle finger of the oldest pass through your entrance and only the tip crossed that sensitive region. Your body gave a little jump in his lap, that was an intense shock, and it made low moans and whimpers escape your mouth.

Your hand gripped the white strands of Aemond's neck more tightly. Your back was arched from the elder's illicit act, a miserable act that left you drunk with pleasure. — The heat and softness of his lips, the small kisses that were distributed all over your face, along with his rough fingers on your sensitive region, increased the desire you had for Aemond more and more.

"The only thing i think about is you." — You finally built up the strength to utter the words. Your voice was hoarse and breathy from the countless moans that had escaped you. Aemond immediately stopped short kisses on your cheek and soon, the movements of his fingers on your pussy were interrupted, causing a kind of emptiness and a small revolt in you.

You carefully and slowly slipped your arms around Aemond's neck, wanting to face and admire him with such pleasure and adoration. — And he understood your little sign. Quickly, Aemond comes back with one hand on your waist and holds your much tighter this time, balancing your, and returns with his straight, rigid posture to you.

His one eye showed pure hunger against you, he was hungry for your body. The exposed sapphire gleamed against the dim light of the fireplace lit next to you, it glowed just for you. — That glow dazzled your attention.

Aemond was like a work of art thoughtfully made by the gods. Your lover was beheld by your eyes with his majestic and magnificent beauty. — If you could, your eyes would admire the one-eyed prince until your last breath of life.

"Only you." — That was said as a whisper. It was enough for Aemond's ears, that's what he wanted to hear even though he already knew what the answer would be.

Aemond pulls your chin towards his face and quickly presses your lips to his. A fiery kiss, which was typical and familiar, ignited both of you in an intense way. — Aemond's tongue explored, with a rough touch, your mouth, he wanted to taste and satiate you. — The two of you tongues together seemed to be in an intense, sexual dance and at times, fighting over a small space.

You whimper during the kiss as you feel Aemond's fingers return their attention to your sensitive pussy but the torturous caress still lingers in that region of your body. — To Aemond, those sounds were so sacred, one of the best things he'd ever heard in his life.

Unfortunately for you, the kiss is interrupted by the shortness of breath between the two of you and your completely swollen lips let out whimpers as you feel the cold sensation of the parting of your lips against Aemond's. — The eldest drags his teeth through your mouth, and bites, without doing much force, his lower lip and pulls it.

Aemond actually wanted to bite those unrecognizable, reddish-toned lips.

"Issa byka jorrāelagon." (My little love.) — After having his lips parted from yours, Aemond leaves a trail of kisses and bites around your neck. The slow kisses left your body completely goose bumps. — They were kisses so dangerous and exciting, that made you melt even more in the lap of the oldest.

The sight of you squirming in Aemond's lap was a scene from heaven to him.

One of Aemond's hands, which had been on your waist specifically, moved up to one of your exposed breasts, massaging in a slow, teasing way. — He wanted to drive you crazy once and for all. — A thin cry was exclaimed from your lips as you felt his fingers pinch your nipple. Aemond squeezed, hard now, your reddened, tender area.

You didn't have the strength or conditions to stop that action, and you didn't want him to stop either. With each pinch your back arched and your moans grew louder.

Aemond's cock, covered by pure leather black pants, was being pressed against your thigh, and feeling the extreme hardness along with all of the older's desire being held there; you let out a needy whimper in Aemond's ears. — You wanted Aemond's teasing to end once and for all to finally be fulfilled by your lover.

"Aemond, please." — You begged. Trying to signal what you really wanted and without uttering another word, you moved your hip against Aemond's large hand lingering in your pussy. The movements were slow but managed to give a short time of pleasure.

"What do you want, my love?" — The deep, slightly breathy voice reached your ears, that damn voice that made you melt immediately. Aemond had immense power under you, he made your body go crazy and beg for his attention and touch with few things. — "Tell me what you so desire."

Saying those words, Aemond turns to face you and cautiously awaits your words. That stare that would totally take your breath away and set you on fire like a dragon's flames had you so mesmerized. — You were intoxicated by Aemond. Your prince, your uncle, your lover.

It was so visible, in your eyes, your intense passion and desire for Aemond. It was a burning love, like a dragon's flames; you two were two dragons that belonged together. — Your immense desire to feel him, in every way the gods had created, only increased.

You wanted to give all your love, your desires and your soul to the prince. Your prince.

"Nyke jaelagon ao." (I want you.) — Your low, honest words managed to satiate Aemond. It was at that exact moment that you realized that he was going to break you, in an illicit and obscene feeling. — This is what you wanted and begged for.

In one swift movement, you brought Aemond's lips together with yours. — Aemond wasn't startled by that act, on the contrary, but he couldn't contain a small groan as your lips crashed against his. — The dance between the two of you tongues started again but this time in a more intense and desperate way. In a few short seconds, aemond's teeth clashed with his but that didn't matter; you two just wanted to satisfy each other's hunger.

Aemond didn't want to wait any longer, it looked like he was going to explode with all the desire building up inside his body. — So, removing the hand, which was giving attention to your pussy, and removing the hand that was on your nipple; Aemond clumsily tries to remove his leather pants.

It was such an easy thing but so difficult at the same time, it wasn't quite an act of incompetence, just Aemond's focus was totally on your sweet, soft lips. — The taste in your mouth was so impeccable, the one-eyed man wanted to live with that taste until the last second of his life. — Your mouth was designed, perfectly, by the good gods.

Trying to help, you spread your legs a little so that the older one could free himself, at least a little, from the leather garment. — The hardness of Aemond's cock slammed against your thigh, making you moan into the kiss.

Your mouth separates from Aemond's for lack of air, the one-eyed man's exposed chest rose and fell trying to regulate his breathing. The feeling of emptiness in your mouth, from the absence of Aemond's tongue, coursed through you. — You ran your teeth across your bottom lip, completely swollen and pigmented a bright red, biting down on it and letting out a little taunt at Aemond.

Your eyes, undisguised, moved down your uncle's sculpted body. All the training marks, which demonstrated how strong and skilled he was, one of the greatest warriors in the King's Landing region.

You weren't ashamed to admit that you had memorized every part and location of every mark on the Targaryen prince's body. You loved to admire and praise them to Aemond. It was rather charming the way you praised the older man's appearance while he despised himself; you were by his side to adore every existing part of his body — His white skin and so fragrant, you loved Aemond's natural scent.

You were obsessed with that man.

"Avy jorrāelan." (I love you.) — Your sweet, low words echoed in Aemond's ears. It wasn't just a sexual moment between the two of you, no, it was more than that. — Such an honest, true and passionate moment and these three things define your relationship with Aemond.

During all these years, even with the great separation with your trip and staying in Dragonstone with your family, these three feelings continued to run through the connection between you and Aemond. — And after your return to King's Landing, the feelings only strengthened.

Aemond's hand went to your young face, resting on your cheek and caressing the region. You put his hand on the eldest's hand, a way of thanking him and returning the gesture of affection. The one-eyed thumb moved up to your lips, passing calmly under them. — That act was similar to a part of the valerian wedding ceremony, you had already read about it and your mother already told you about it. — You didn't risk stopping that action, you just watched and contemplated.

Aemond's one eye admired you. — He was contemplating everything about you, every curve, line, mark and part of your body.

"Avy jorrāelan." (I love you.) — He declared to you, looking deep into your eyes. — "And i will make you my wife. It doesn't matter if my half sister tries to stop it." — It was impossible not to feel a touch of disgust when Aemond chose to mention your mother, he preferred to refer to her as such rather than call her by her own name.

Aemond didn't want you to divert his attention, with your mother being mentioned at such a sacred moment for both of you. — The older man's hands started to grab your waist, hard but not to the point of hurting you, indicating you to readjust yourself in his lap.

Immediately, you understand the signal your lover was giving you. Wrapping your arms around Aemond's neck for support, you lift your legs to fit fully against the elder's hip, causing your exposed pussy to end up touching Aemond's cock. — Your body shivered as you felt the hardness of his cock again but this time against an extremely sensitive area.

Trembling but with pure pleasure and desire, you relax your waist and the tip of Aemond's cock touches your sensitive little entrance. — You couldn't contain a loud moan. Your back arched a little with the pleasurable sensation that would fill you completely, you were begging for it.

Without much delay and craving the immense pleasure, your waist lowered completely, crashing against Aemond's hip, and unison moans came from your mouth and from the prince. — Aemond witnessed the disappearance of his cock into your pussy, that sight was adored by the elder's eye.

The moment you fitted your hips with Aemond's, the older man's platinum hair brushed rough against your sensitive, needy clit; you whimpered at the pleasurable sensation. — Of course it tickled a little but your desire was greater than anything else.

"Aemond..." — You moved your hips a little to feel more of your lover's contact and Aemond's only eye managed to observe a small bulge that had formed in your belly. It was so visible and so satisfying, and that scene drove the one-eyed head crazy.

Seeing you being filled by his cock was such a divine and magnificent thing.

"Seeing you so filled with me is my fucking heaven." — Aemond's voice, completely overcome with pleasure, echoes through his chambers and into your ears. The big, warm hands of the older one went towards your thigh, squeezing them and trying to move them forward.

He wanted you to move.

With little strength, you moved your hips slowly against his, letting out countless low moans and sighs. You were being pleased and fulfilled in such a magnificent way, to the point where you were totally drunk with pleasure and your mind was only focused on the one-eyed Targaryen.

Aemond was so focused on you, your image of delight, sensitive and pure pleasure against the elder played over and over in his mind. — Your mouth open, your eyes closed brutally trying to contain the huge spike of pleasure, and your nipples bouncing; Aemond just thanked the gods.

How could a prince so ruthless and embittered, being haunted by his past due to his missing eye and causing a huge and devastating rift within his family, could he have gotten an angel like you? — A dragon so feared by all, including some of his own family, was intertwined with a majestic dragon.

Greedy as ever, Aemond wanted more. — Again your lover's hands touch you but firmly and abruptly, surprising even you. Wrapping both arms around your waist for leverage and support, Aemond begins to truly fuck you. — The movements besides being sudden, the prince didn't want to use any violent action against you.

Your pleasure first, that was already planted in Aemond's head.

Your mouth fell open, immediately, and your eyes fluttered open and soon, they met the one eye, the purple hue, and the sapphire you loved to admire. — That eye was gripped by desire, the urge to take and devour your body.

"Aemond!" — You screamed. Your arms tighten even more on Aemond's shoulders, trying to find a sturdy support to distribute your immense sensation. The possibility that a servant or even one of your family had heard your scream did not cross your mind but Aemond wished, most of all, that someone had. — That way everyone would know who you belonged to.

Your nails dug into the elder's white skin. — As if you were marking the territory. Leaving a sharp, cat-like acting mark on your man. — It was a small, mediocre pain for Aemond but it spurred him on to increase thrusts against your sensitive pussy.

Aemond's long, thick cock against your entrance so tight and hot made the one-eyed man feel, in fact, the paradise he'd heard whispered about throughout King's Landing. — If this was heaven, he wanted to be buried there forever.

Not to mention your sly moans, they were like music to the ears of the eldest. A song of angels just for him.

"My love." — Aemond removed one of his hands from your waist, and realized that he had left a mark of his huge hand in that region and soon a rude and malicious smile appeared on his thin lips.

Your hair, which despite the intriguing, messy and pleasant situation, was still beautiful and majestic and then, quickly, you were startled by Aemond's hand pulling a handful of your hair towards his face. — That action did not cause you pain at all. Aemond would never cause you any kind of discomfort or pain and even more so at that moment.

Aemond's face, perfectly designed by the gods, was almost crashing into your own. Your desperate and hot breathing struggled against the panting breath of the older man. — A line of sweat was beginning to form on Aemond's forehead and you watched it run across your lover's majestic face.

Your love. Your man. — Your uncle.

"My beautiful love." — Your eyes took in the way those three words slowly came out of Aemond's mouth. You wanted so much to kiss those thin lips again and feel the divine taste that your prince's mouth provided only for you. — "My fire."

Aemond, as if reading your illicit, pleading thoughts, brushed his lips across yours. — Making a brief, chilling contact, an action that tickled your. — And desperately yearning for the touch, you gave a little push to bring the two of you lips together at once. — If you could, you would spend the rest of your life kissing and tasting your lover's lips.

Seeing how much you needed him, wanting so badly to touch and feel him was so fun and exciting for Aemond. You looked more needy and sly than usual, your body needed him and his body needed yours.

Continuing with the thrusts, Aemond increases the intensity of his movements, reaching a point where his hips bump against yours. You felt his waist bone contracting against you. — The sharp, intense sensation of Aemond's cock sliding in and out of you left your entire body clouded with pleasure and unable to think of anything sensible or capable.

Nothing was going through your mind, absolutely nothing.

Your moans, which before were sly and low, became screams of pure pleasure and excitement. You were raving about the fulfillment your beloved uncle was giving you, and the way he was treating you so sweetly and lovingly was totally pleasing to your body. Never without your life have you felt as good as you did at that moment.

Honestly, you always felt good around Aemond and when the two of you were away from each other or not seeing each other's image, you felt sick and desperate.

At a certain point, you felt that you were close to your release and, of course, the one-eyed prince felt it too. — Your hot inner walls made a point of squeezing his cook even more. — The thought of knowing that you would soon, in a matter of seconds, be filled with his seed and the possibility of bearing him heirs overwhelmed Aemond.

He didn't care if his half sister would force you to drink the typical abortive tea or if his uncle could rip his head off and feed it to his dragon. Aemond would do anything to keep you in his arms.

Seeing you as the mother of his children was the biggest dream that ever crossed Aemond's agitated and troubled mind. That dream was salvation for the prince, only the image of you with a child with silver hair and purple eyes managed to keep the elder sane.

"You would look so magnificent with a child in your belly, my love." — Aemond whispered with sweetness on his lips. — "Our child."

Those last words had you squeezing him tighter, earning a low groan escaping Aemond. From the looks of it the idea of making you carry a child was starting to take over your mind.

The oldest Targaryen placed one of his hands on your belly, managing to feel the bulge his cock was forming there with each movement, he smiled with malice and without disguising the way how he liked to feel and see that scene. — In long moons, you'll be belly full and carrying a Targaryen life.

"Oh, gods." — You moaned, utterly sly and about to melt, into the prince's ear. In fact, your body felt like it was going to melt from the heat that was building up and building up; it felt like all your control over your body was simply gone. Damn Aemond for putting you through that pleasurable, delicious thrill. — "I'm so close, Aemond..."

"So come, my love." — He gasped and drew in a long, hard breath to continue talking. Aemond's hips were at an absurd speed and intensity. With each thrust, each thrust, his mouth, which was swollen and bruised from your teeth, let out a thin scream. — "Cum with me, my princess." — "My future mother of my children."

The last words of your beloved prince were like an order to your body that was immediately obeyed with pleasure and satisfaction.

Your body was so tired and heavy, there wasn't even a spark of strength in you. Your brains were completely fucked with that damn one eye. Aemond said he would break you and he never goes back on his word. — But you were so satisfied and fulfilled to be full of him, complete with his seed. Your lips didn't disguise the small delighted smile that was starting to form there.

Aemond, who was trying to catch his breath with his chest rising and falling slightly, couldn't stop watching your image, wholly overwhelming. He could see a few strands of hair stuck to your forehead and a few strands of your hair messed up, and he could be to blame for that, but you were still so beautiful.

No matter the moment, you were always beautiful and the most beautiful woman in all seven damned kingdoms for Aemond.

"I can't wait to see your belly grow and soon, see our little dragon in your arms, issa perzys." (My fire.)

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond #aemond imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #game of thrones #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut

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thefvllsun · 2 years ago

Text

haechan

here:

❥ ldh: the panty perv

actual name: beware the panty perv

summary: there’s a mystery at hand! it seems like your panties have been vanishing into thin air whenever you need them most?

angry that your favorite pairs of panties are going missing, you decide to put on your detective hat in hopes of finding the mysterious lingerie bandit.

but between all of the guys that you sleep with— you can’t seem to pinpoint who the culprit could be.

it couldn’t possibly be your absolute geek of a tutor for calculus, right?

nah.

❥ { elevator by nct 127 }

actual name: elevator - l.dh

❥ "he'll bite"

actual name: i'll bite

synopsis: you've had your eye on haechan for a while. who knew a costume frat party would be the time you got to have him.

❥ we love a little friendship

actual name: friends kiss friends;; ldh

summary: In charge of both baking the cake and keeping the birthday boy occupied until the rest of the party arrives, your hands are rather full. Good thing there’s a pair of helping hands itching to be put to good use.

❥ robot luver

actual name: robot lover | lee donghyuck (haechan)

summary: You designed the perfect man – and built him, as a sex robot. But what do you do when Haechan tires of the customers, and falls for you?

❥ alpha’s desire

actual name: an alpha's desire

summary: gathering more information on the soon-to-be owner of seoul’s leading tech companies, should be an easy job, especially for someone like you but when you get your heat at the most unexpected time, things don’t exactly go in your favour. well, almost.

❥ enemies to lovers

actual name: allover lee haechan

summary: haechan drove you mad, so much that when you kissed him everything made sense

❥ ‘make a wish’

actual name: make a wish | l.dh

synopsis: They always say to make a wish and keep it a secret when it comes time for you to blow out the candles on the cake, but as you walk through the door of Donghyuck's bedroom, you realize that he's become the one thing you just can't seem to stop wishing for.

❥ game boy

actual name: game boy

synopsis: he’s so consumed by his own game that you decide to play one of your own.

❥ fantasy trip w/ lhc

actual name: if i lose my mind

synopsis: You’ve never cared much for your dreams. they were always confusing nonsense you forgot in the morning. this until you started to have the same dream again and again and again: a lobby, pleasant elevator music in the background, many golden doors, a handsome young man welcoming you and asking where you wanted to go that night. his name was haechan and apparently you weren’t supposed to know that, let alone fall in love with him.

❥ “wingardium leviosa”

actual name: i will not vanish

❥ french kiss

actual name: oh mr. lee, will you teach me how to french kiss?

synopsis: when you break up with your boyfriend after finding out you don’t know how to french kiss, your best friend offers a rather tempting offer.

❥ “i’m a youtuber.”

actual name: this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently.

synopsis: running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new.

what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.

❥ from home

actual name: home is a feeling | lee donghyuck

summary: Fresh off a break-up, not willing to stomach spending Christmas single with your family, you book a last minute trip overseas to escape the impending loneliness, not realizing that perhaps running away from your feelings will only serve to intensify them. You arrive at your home-away-from-home only to find you’re not the only one staying there. Through some unfortunate (or not so unfortunate) mistake, the AirBnB you booked has also been booked by a handsome young man looking for a similar escape from his own life. Now you have to choose whether or not to stay and spend your Christmas with a stranger or scramble to find a lonely hotel room last minute over the holidays.

❥ “slow dancing in the dark”

actual name: slow dancing in a burning room - l.dh

description: the past ripples in the present, the currents of history crashing on the shores of the new day. in the halls of a place you’ve never been, you and haechan are caught up in a riptide—your paths always destined to meet, forever entwined and doomed to the same fate. is history really bound to repeat itself no matter how hard you try to change it?

❥ abducting persephone and part ii.

actual name: the abduction of persephone. ldh

synopsis: your sister is about to marry the man of her life, the wedding is in three days and you don’t have a date. Nothing weird, but I forgot to mention that you had told your parents that you were bringing your boyfriend. A boyfriend that you don’t have anymore, because he had suddenly decided you were “too much” for him and didn’t want to make you waste anymore time - one month before the wedding.

You should have been the happiest person on Earth, your sister was about to get married and, since you didn’t want to bring any attention upon your lonely entrance, you had opted for something crazy. Crazy, like hiring Lee Donghyuck to be your fake-boyfriend.

❥ happiness with ldh and part ii.

actual name: all at once, the happiness i knew

❥ free falling and again

actual name: free falling

summary: your friend haechan has been acting kinda weird lately.. does it have anything to do with you? maybe it does, considering he keeps looking at you like you're gonna kill him any second. well, that and he randomly liked a three month old picture of you.

actual name: free falling pt. 2

summary: you and haechan finally meet in person, but the circumstances aren't very ideal. how long can he keep himself together?

❥ becoming part of the mafia w/ ldh

actual name: dangerous alliance

preview: “you wouldn’t shoot me.” he laughs knowingly. upfront arrogant bastard. “how do you know? just because I’m a woman?” she remarks like a wild animal ready to chew him off.

“exactly, you’re a woma-” the voice becomes inaudible when a large bullet was felt piercing the shoulder, gush amount of bleeding. the triggered pulled by a woman, someone he underestimated. he fell quicker than he was shot on his knees, winging in absolute pain. she sighs out dramatically. “don’t think you know everything because if a woman has a motive and the courage to do something, she will do it.”

❥ the summer’s seasons

actual name: seasons in the sun

the minor hiccup?

both of you are sore losers, huge cheaters, have little to no morals, and will do anything to obliterate your competition to emerge victorious. let the games begin.

❥ milf hunter

actual name: milf hunter

summary: what happens when the local milf online lives in your neighbourhood?

❥ handy man

actual name: ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: our kitchen | lhc

summary: moving in with your boyfriend is a great idea—just don't forget to ask him if he knows how to build furniture (or how to build anything, really).

❥ slide thru - l.hc | ridin’ club

actual name: slide thru - l.hc | ridin’ club

synopsis: Lee Donghyuck, goes by Lee Haechan, is your literal ride or die.

From high school to college, you two are best friends for the long run. While your relationship has always been platonic, there is something about the wind in his brown locks and the thrills drawing donuts in an empty parking lot that causes butterflies to jump down below. Have you always been attracted to him or did he finally grow up to be your type?

❥ proof

actual name: prove it

summary: after years of putting up with Haechan teasing you for being a good girl, you get to prove him wrong at one of his concerts.

❥ zoom shenanigans

actual name: zoom shenanigans - l.dh

summary: you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

❥ NaCl and H₂O

actual name: salt and ice (m)

summary: lee donghyuck was your best friend, but you hated him. well, at least you think you do.

you hate everything that he is, and everything he had become. despite this, you find your friendship actually quite simple with him, never crossing the line of being too complicated. as time starts to grow, and as donghyuck starts to realize he wants to become closer to you, things start to change. and soon enough, you’re stuck on the ‘complicated’ line with him. your dynamic soon becomes like salt and ice.

❥ your scent

actual name: scent : alpha! haechan

synopsis: alpha Haechan finds you, a stray omega having issues with your heat suppressants, and he decides that even if he is one of the younger members in an all alpha pack, and even if he doesn’t want kids,

it’s a fabulous idea to all but take in a cute, fertile, omega who is deep in heat.

❥ uwu

actual name: baby face : frat haechan

synopsis: You and Haechan have been enemies ever since highschool, when debates between you in class would get heated. Now, you’re in a sorority and he’s in your brother frat, NCT House. Trivia nights are supposed to be fun at the campus bar but you and Haechan always take it personally, and your friends see the the sexual tension, even if you and Haechan don’t.

Johnny and Jaehyun concoct plans to force you and Haechan interact, frat boys lie, and even if Haechan gets you on your back,

you’re never going to stop calling him the nickname he hates so much: “baby face”.

❥ calling your name and again

actual name: haechan: the cocky | vol 1

synopsis: on this sunny afternoon, you’re home alone while everyone else is in class... or so you thought. as haechan’s name spills from your lustful mouth, he mindlessly comes in thinking that you’re calling for him. instead, he walks in to see you fingers deep and in need of some assistance, again.

actual name: haechan: the cocky | vol 2

synopsis: after receiving haechan’s text messages, you hurry up to his room and the sexual tension is thicker than you can ever imagine.

❥ 🍍

actual name: pineapple — l.hc l.dh

preview: when paired up with the worst partner in the entirety of the university, this research paper is going to need a lot of work—too bad the topic of interest is sex education. with two geniuses like yourselves, you have two different project ideas, but both of them require you to get a whole lot closer to donghyuck than you’ve ever wanted to be.

❥ cardio

actual name: cardio

summary: haechan doesn’t really frequent the gym often, but he decides to go with johnny just this once. but because you were there, it’s safe to say that he’ll probably be back again.

❥ do good, look good, feel good

actual name: do good, look good, feel good - l.dh

❥ love bites

actual name: love bites

summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat

--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

❥ polar opposites

actual name: miscalculated assumptions | l.dh

preview: lee donghyuck is your polar opposite - he’s mouthy and careless and a troublemaker at heart, while you’re the dictionary definition of a goody-two-shoes. therefore, when you’re assigned to tutor him, you’re sure that you’re doomed... unless you’ve made some miscalculated assumptions.

❥ gamer boy

actual name: motivation

❥ stubborn

actual name: CHANGE YOUR MIND YET?

summary: you’re going to kill him. you swear, you’re going to kill him. how did liu yangyang accidentally tell lee donghyuck—your greatest enemy—that you think he’s hot and that you’ve been in a dry spell recently? now you have to avoid the inevitable confrontation, and worst of all, deal with the most stubborn person alive (who ironically thinks that you’re the most stubborn person alive.)

❥ sure thing

actual name: sure thing (l.dh)

❥ pussy fiend and part ii.

actual name: pussy fiend (l.dh)

summary: uhhh he likes you and is a fiend for pussy idk bestie

actual name (2): pussy fiend, part 2 (l.dh)

summary (2): part two baybee!! uhhh he still likes you and is still a fiend for pussy bestie have fun :)

❥ honeymoon

actual name: ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: a kiss on the cheek | lhc

summary: you’ve only been dating haechan for a month now, and you haven’t even considered the chance of your first kiss happening yet. until one of your boyfriend’s friends mentions how much he likes kisses.

❥ hot singles in your area

actual name: hot singles in your area

❥ and they were roommates

actual name: and they were roommates

summary: lee donghyuck’s competitive spirit to find the best girlfriend results with him setting his sights on yoo jimin, the hottest girl on campus. however, trying to get close to her ends up with him being pushed in her roommate’s direction. donghyuck has never considered dating someone as quiet as you, but, for whatever reason, he’s infatuated.

❥ learning experience

actual name: lesson of the day

synopsis: In his twenties and finally getting himself in a committed relationship means the lack of experience. And for being the best step sister you are, you help him get better by teaching him. A twisted way to have him wrapped around your finger.

❥ TRAPPED!

actual name: TRAPPED!

synopsis: you’d grown up with lee donghyuck, him being your older brother mark’s best friend. but this didn’t that mean you automatically liked him, in fact, you felt quite the opposite. as did he. he was everything you hated about a person, he was loud, obnoxious, selfish and quite frankly, really fucking rude. you were absolutely sick of him.

that was until your eighteenth birthday.

❥ blocked

actual name: unblock your heart

❥ sucks to be him

actual name: sucks to be him

summary: You were trying to have a fun night with your friends when a handsome stranger introduced himself as your mate. The problem? You have a boyfriend.

❥ christmas in august

actual name: All I Want ‣ ldh

summary: In which the mix of Christmas music in August and Donghyuck's surge of confidence almost does good for the both of you

❥ camp v.s. camp

actual name: seasons in the sun

summary: camp beaver falls and camp saltwater have had an intense rivalry for more than a few decades, so when a fight breaks out between the two establishments, the respective head counsellors, you and lee donghyuck, decide to hold a championship to once and for all decide who’s the best. the minor hiccup? both of you are sore losers, huge cheaters, have little to no morals, and will do anything to obliterate your competition to emerge victorious.

let the games begin.

❥ fooled around and fell in love

actual name: fooled around and fell in love

summary: donghyuck has really, really, really fucked up this time. when you asked him if he wanted to hook up and take the edge off of preparing for the upcoming recital, he jumped at the offer. but he’s slowly falling in love with you, you’re in his dance department so if it ends ugly, you’re unavoidable—and he may or may not be getting possessive when he sees other men flirting with you.

❥ rule number one

actual name: Again & Again || L.DH

summary: Haechan is needy. So needy that he can’t wait until you get home to play with himself, breaking the number one rule in your book. What was supposed to be a night of innocent quality time ends in Haechan getting milked dry, begging for you to make him come over & over again.

❥ he who shall not be named

actual name: fast times.

synopsis: throughout the snapshots of your life, lee donghyuck is always there. (or, you realize that you’re in love with the bane of your existence.)

❥ meddle about

actual name: meddle about

summary: Mark doesn’t think you or Haechan would have a problem with killing each other, not even bat an eye at it in fact.

❥ we'll make it fit and again...

actual name: make it fit

summary: your best friend, haechan tries to convince you that he in fact does have a big dick but you won’t believe him, so he decides to show you instead.

actual name: make it fit again

summary: it’s been two months since that incident and haechan can’t stop thinking about it. neither can you, if you’re honest and you find yourself in a similar situation once again but this time, your friends don’t just listen.

❥ love notes

actual name: ⇢ dear mr. cupid

synopsis: it’s no lie that haechan only started his college matchmaking business due to his nosy personality. it’s also no lie that he was a little jealous of everyone he had helped out as he had no love life of his own. well, that was until his childhood friend moved back and mysterious love notes started appearing in his matchmaking inbox… addressed to HIM?!

❥ we don’t hate each other

actual name: a red velvet cupcake, a halloween party, and a punishment

summary: A red velvet cupcake creates a promise between you and Haechan, and a Halloween party(and it’s consequences) brings you two closer than ever. Between scrubbing up dirty plates at the school kitchen and your study sessions at the library, you start to get fond of each other.

❥ stuck to the hip

actual name: Hot & Cold

synopsis: Donghyuck and Y/N, Y/N and Donghyuck. Whatever the order was, everyone knew it wasn’t the same without the other; everyone knew that you two would end up together, one way or another. Only, no one ever told Donghyuck that it would take this long. It took an unnecessary long time for him to get where he wanted you to be, but it was worth all the years if it meant he’d get you in the end.

After all, he wouldn’t spend all of his time and effort to plan on confessing with an old pink Nintendo DS Lite and a Pokémon Pearl cartridge.

#recommendations #lee haechan #haechan #lee donghyuck #nct 127 #nct dream

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chocosvt · 4 years ago

Text

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you.

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes, as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[ 9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,” you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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