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sailorrhansol · 6 months ago

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You. Always. | k.sy (m)

❀ Pairing: Soonyoung x f. Reader

❀ Summary: Soonyoung isn’t a jealous guy - he’s not. But sometimes it gets to him, the way other people look at you and fall a little in love with you. Don’t they know you have him?

❀ Word Count: 5055

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, pwp

❀ Type: Smut, a little fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Almost jealous Soonyoung, a little hint of insecurity but nothing crazy, recreational drinking, Mingyu and Wonwoo lowkey being a little annoying and drunk, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, pet names like baby and good boy, reader on top, spit and other bodily fluids, not explicit dom/sub dynamics but Soonyoung is very soft in this and reader is guiding him in parts, biting, both reader and Soonyoung are a little dazed and kinda spacy but it’s not explicitly subspace or described in the same way.

❀ A/N: This is straight up from a dream I had, no joke. Woke up and was like I just had the weirdest dream about Soonyoung but it was in the Bahamas and a cruise ship was involved at some point but this is almost scene for scene from my dream. I feel blessed.

❀ A/N 2: This was written entirely for @daechwitatamic and also thank you Jo for beta reading because I don’t know how to edit anything ever I’m baby

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“Try this one,” Mingyu insists, laughing. He shoves a drink in your hand, all smiles and glittering eyes. You take the cup from him, the music of the club pulsing around you. A soft buzz ripples through you, a little drunk from the long day out in the sun followed by drinks at sunset, dinner and the afterparty. “It’s soooo good.”

You trust Mingyu’s judgment - about drinks, anyway. Wonwoo cheers for you, clapping to the beat of the music as you bring the cup to your lips and knock it back. The soda mixed in the drink bubbles in the back of your throat but the taste of something strong burns and you cough, pulling the cup from your mouth with a grimace and squinted eyes.

Both of them begin laughing hysterically, throwing back their hands and clapping their hands. You laugh too, setting the cup down as you try and clear your throat from the liquid fire, tongue stuck out as you reach for a sweating glass of water.

Wonwoo orders more drinks as you suck down water, freeing your mouth of the bitter taste of whatever it is they gave you. You turn on the stool, looking around the beachside club for Soonyoung. You catch him on the far side leaning against a wall, waiting for the bathroom. Sensing your gaze, he cranes his neck to look toward you, eyes pinning you to the spot immediately.

Even from across the room, his gaze makes your stomach flip. You grin shyly, waving your hand a little. His lips twitch but his gaze shifts toward Mingyu and Wonwoo. His mouth tilts down a little before the bathroom door opens and he turns away entirely, vanishing down the hall.

A server appears with a round of clear shots, setting them down on the table. Mingyu leans forward, picking one up with the intention of handing it to you, but you wave him off. “I’ll wait for Soonyoung.”

Mingyu cranes his head. “Yeah, where the fuck did he go? I kind of forgot he was here.”

It isn’t Mingyu’s fault - he hasn’t known you for very long. Soonyoung has a habit of making friends anywhere the two of you go on vacation, though, and through the last week, you’ve managed to make Wonwoo and Mingyu regular friends while enjoying the summer off the coast of Greece. It had started with a volleyball game and now it has escalated to lunches, dinners and nightly escapades.

Ever the talker - much like your boyfriend - Mingyu turns to the table next to yours and strikes up a conversation with the group of people there. Within a few minutes, he’s pulling their table to yours and shouting their names at you. You shake unfamiliar hands and grin, just happy to feel the balmy air on your skin and feel the heat of summer.

Another round of drinks appears in clear, plastic cups, obeying the no glass on the beach rule. The beach club is lowkey and tucked away into the side of the mountain at the very end of the beach, requiring a trek through the sand to get there.

The area is open to the elements with wooden pavilions housing a few tables and benches. In the middle of the club is a long, illuminated shallow pool with tables for guests who are willing to take off their shoes and wade through the cool water to get there.

You look down at the red drink in your hand, raising a brow as you watch everyone else throw the drink back, chugging as quickly as they can. When they put their cups down and realize you haven’t had yours, they immediately start yelling at you, Mingyu grabbing your forearm to shake you back and forth as he pouts and yells at you to chug.

“I’m gonna get too drunk,” you whine, holding onto the cup and trying not to spill the liquid as Mingyu complains. He pouts and gives you puppy eyes, clasping his hands together as he begs. Wonwoo and your new friends immediately join him, all of them peering up at you.

“Please,” Wonwoo pleads from across the table, clasped hands tucked under his chin. “Please please please please.”

Before you can tip the cup back, it’s being pulled upward and out of your grip. You look up in surprise, mouth falling open as Soonyoung frees it from your grasp and tilts the cup to his lips. You watch as he drains it, head tilted back to expose the tan softness of his throat. Some of the red spills over the side, running down his chin and throat.

You watch the beads of liquid, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the way he looks in that moment. When you blink, Soonyoung’s head is no longer tilted as he leans forward to place the empty cup on the table. He doesn’t bother to wipe the red on his neck and you instinctively grab napkins as he throws himself in the booth across from you.

He notices you holding them out and he takes them wordlessly, his energy shifted suddenly as he wipes the sticky red from his skin. If your new friends notice, they don’t say anything, cheering for him and then ordering more drinks as they shout over the music.

When he left to use the restroom, your boyfriend had been in high spirits and a rowdy mood. Now, he’s subdued, eyes flickering between Wonwoo and Mingyu, a little darker than before. You frown, finishing the rest of your water as you drink in Soonyoung’s posture: slouched, mouth pouted, eyes narrowed.

Mingyu asks if you want another drink and you watch as Soonyoung’s mouth turns down. Ah. You decline and immediately Mingyu makes Soonyoung the same offer, but he shakes his head, suddenly interested in his phone. You think Mingyu notices this time that one of your party is clearly no longer in the drinking mood and disengages, turning easily to the others.

You nudge Soonyoung’s foot under the table. He looks up at you, a little dejected and shrugs his shoulders as if to say what? You nod your head toward the exit, raising your brows. He follows your meaning and pauses for a moment, as though he’s torn between ending the night far earlier than usual or trying to endure his mood.

Eventually, he nods, turning off his phone and shoving it in his pocket. You stand and announce that you’re feeling a little tired, but thank your friends for the drinks. They all immediately complain, begging you to stay for at least one more round.

“It’s always one more round with you all,” you shoot back. “We can catch up another day. I’m tired and honestly I really just want to lay in bed with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu huffs, waving you off. “Do whatever it is couples do on vacation.”

Without a word, you hold your hand out to Soonyoung to leave. He stares at it for a moment before his mouth twitches upward and he takes it, lacing his fingers with yours. You give him a gentle squeeze as you lead toward the exit of the club, waving to the manager who is used to your group’s presence by now.

Outside, the world is only lit by the moon. It sits high up in the sky, turning the world a dark blue as you and Soonyoung walk the beach. The quiet tension follows him outside of the club and down a few meters. You wait for him to say something, peeking at him from the corner of your eye.

In the years you’ve been dating, you’ve learned to read him pretty well. You know something about your interaction with Mingyu and Wonwoo bothers him, but you’re unsure of the specifics. Soonyoung isn’t a jealous boyfriend, but every once in a while there is something that bothers him. An old wound that peels open at the edge and stings him.

You tug on his hand. He’s surprised, stumbling a little as you yank him off balance and into you. His cologne is laced with his own natural scent, making your head spin as your chests press together and you bring a hand up to his face, stroking a strand of dark hair out of his eyes.

Soonyoung is beautiful. You’ve always thought so. Eyes that can go from intense to gentle, a round face that is somehow also sharp, a cute mouth prone to laughing. You’ve traced the lines of his face over and over again and still, every time you’re this close to him, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“You’re not jealous, right?”

He shakes his head imperceptibly. He looks down at you, bottom lip jutting out a bit. You fight a smile, trying to focus on making sure he’s okay instead of the way his face has melted from contemplative to pouting.

“You can tell me if I did something that made you uncomfortable, you know that right?”

He nods in tiny. His hands hang at his sides, like he’s hesitant to touch you. To do anything. You take his face in both of your hands, cocking your head to the side as you study him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s bothering you?”

“I’m not jealous,” he starts and stops. You wait for him to continue. You’ve always been better at putting your thoughts to words than he has, and you know he just needs the time to organize them. “And you never do things that make me jealous. I just…”

Ocean water surges behind you, the gentle push and pull of the swells the only sound as Soonyoung strings his thoughts together. You continue to cradle his face in your hands, thumb stroking back and forth on his cheek. You feel him lean into your touch, going a little weak under your attention.

“I just know how easy it is to love you,” he finally says. He chews his bottom lip a little and you catch it with your thumb, keeping him from breaking the skin. “You are beautiful and charming, and I can always tell when other people realize it too. It isn’t that… I think you’d like them back or anything. I just feel possessive and then silly for feeling that way.”

“It isn’t silly.”

“It isn’t?”

You shake your head and his voice gets small and soft. “I don’t want it to seem insecure or annoying, and I don’t know why I suddenly felt that way. I usually don't.”

“It’s not silly,” you assure him again. “It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. You’re a human being and you’re allowed to feel things, even if you don’t necessarily know why or how you feel them.”

“I’m sorry I made us leave early.”

“You didn’t make us do anything, and there is nothing to apologize for. I like going home and just spending time with you. I came here with you. We can make vacation friends all we want, but I have the most fun when you’re involved.”

His mouth twitches in a smile and he nods a little, affirmed by your words. “Can we go home?”

“Mhmm.”

You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his mouth. Immediately he wants more, chasing your lips but you skip away from him, tugging him along by his hand. He frowns, a little put out. You try not to giggle, feeling your stomach flip a little.

Soonyoung is so rare like this. He loves being soft, but this is something even gentler. Something delicate and wonderful and endearing. You can’t help but keep him trailing after you, feeling the way his eyes linger on you. Hungry. Wanting. Needing.

You keep him waiting.

Catching a taxi up the mountain to the house you’re staying at is easy. The driver rolls the window down, letting the salty air drift in as he goes up and up. You lean against Soonyoung’s shoulder, putting your entwined hands in your lap. He melts into you, head atop yours and eyes fluttering shut as the breeze lifts his hair.

You love him like this. He looks so young, so capable of love. It’s your favorite thing about him, his ability to love freely, deeply and often. There is so much affection and kindness in him, a well so deep that you have yet to hit the bottom.

Soonyoung is a little drowsy when the taxi pulls up to the village square. He rouses with a mumbled thank you and clambours out the car behind you, eager to follow your lead up the winding steps that lead through the village houses.

It’s mostly quiet, with the echoes of voices drifting up from open windows and patios, the din of voices from restaurants in the main square hanging on the wind. You manage not to get lost this time as you navigate the winding pathways to the correct house, the blue fence blending in with the dozen other blue fences.

The cicadas are quiet as you walk down the steps to the front of the home. You tap Soonyoung’s pockets and he blushes, forgetting he has the keys. He’s quick to produce them and pass them over, watching you expectantly as you unlock it and step into the darkness.

Cool air drifts in from the open windows. There’s no air conditioning in the rented house, but the ocean wind that comes in at night through open shutters is enough to cool you off.

Soonyoung is quiet. He follows your lead up the stairs to the second floor where the bedroom is, lingering in the doorway when you drop his hand and turn to face him as you walk backward into the room. He’s hypnotized as you unbutton the top of your shirt slowly, staring at him.

The way he looks at you ignites a fire inside of you. No one else could look at you like this, equal parts reverence and hunger. No one else could make your hands shake as you stare at him staring at you, his lips parted a little, tongue darting out to wet them as he swallows.

Your blouse falls open and you shuck it off, letting it hit the floor. Moonlight paints your side profile. Soonyoung doesn’t dare move from the door until you hold out a hand, palm upward. “Come here,” you whisper. He obeys immediately, nearly tripping over his feet to get to you.

His hands go around your waist, warm against your skin. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him in close, fingers threading in his hair and pulling a little. He lets out a soft sound as you tilt his face toward yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. His pupils are blown and you can feel his heart thundering against yours.

“You know I love you more than anything else, right?” For a second, he just stares at you, eyes fixated on your mouth. You pull his hair a little more and he sucks in a sharp breath before nodding a little. He seems too dazed to do more than the barest acknowledgement. “Do you want me to show you?”

You lean up to brush your nose against his. Soonyoung’s eyes fall shut and you feel a shiver go through him. His breath is unsteady when you brush your mouth against his in an almost kiss. “Do you want me to show you how much I love you, Soonyoung?”

He nods again, unable to find words. Your nails scratch at his scalp gently and he lets out a breathy moan, melting in your hands. “Okay,” you whisper, pressty a soft kiss to his mouth. He tries to chase your lips again but you step back and tug at him. “Come lay down.”

Soonyoung obeys. He’s always been a good boy, but having him like this isn’t common. You like to think that you’re both equal parts in charge in the bedroom, flowing with whatever the other needs. Having him like this, sitting down on the bed and looking up at you like you cradle his world in your hands though… it lights you up.

“Lay back for me,” you instruct gently. He does immediately, bouncing a little on the mattress. You climb onto the mattress, knees on either side of his waist as you crawl up toward him, settling your weight on his hips. Immediately his hands reach toward your hips and stop, hovering as he gets stuck between doing what he wants and waiting for you to tell him. “Go ahead,” you whisper, leaning toward him. “Take whatever you want. You can have whatever.”

Warm hands grip your waist. Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of his shirt and you make sure to brush them against his stomach as you move upward. You feel the muscles jump and he lets out another breathy sound. His hands just remain on your sides, not ready to explore more as he fixates on the way you pull his shirt off of his shoulders.

He’s a little clumsy when he leans up to help you shuck it off. You don’t care, surging forward to capture his mouth in a full kiss as he does. He forgets all about taking the shirt off, sleeves halfway down his arms as he leans forward to lick into your mouth, hungry and desperate for whatever you’ll give him.

You don’t hold back, letting him consume you. His mouth is warm and wet, tasting faintly of cherry from one of the drinks he had earlier. You love it, humming delightly as your hands brush from his shoulders to where his shirt is stuck near the elbows. You tug but the material is restricted, making you break away from the kiss with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, letting your hips go to take the shirt all the way off.

Immediately your hands seek the heat of his skin, brushing from his shoulders to his chest and down his stomach and back up, fingers loving every groove and plane. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, pushing him back gently so that he’s laying down again. He lets you trace him, though you can feel his hips twitch under you, turned on by your exploration. “So pretty, Soonyoung. Do you know that?”

Again, he gives the tiniest nod. You smile and lean forward, holding yourself up by planting a hand on either side of his head. You catch his mouth again and he lifts his head up, eager to taste you. A hum of appreciation escapes you as you kiss him slowly, pressing your hips down into his.

Soonyoung moans and it’s so delicate that it makes you dizzy. You feel fucked out from this version of him already, the room spinning as you rut gently into him. You grab his hands that rest on your ass and pull them up your sides to your bra, a command.

He understands immediately, pulling at the clasps to undo the back. You break the kiss again, mouth feeling bruised, to lean up and toss the garment. His hands find your chest immediately and you feel goosebumps burst on your skin at his touch, large hand squeezing.

You let him rub his thumb over your pert nipples, spiking the pleasure in your stomach. You let out a light sound and shiver in his hands, ducking back down to press your mouth to his lips, the corner of his mouth, his chin - anywhere you can kiss.

His skin is salty and sweet, your tongue darting out to soothe his flesh after a sharp bite. He’s putty beneath you, completely at your mercy as your mouth maps out the way you love him. Every kiss, bite and lick is another declaration: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Light moans drip from his lips as you pepper him with kisses. Dragging your teeth across his chest lightly, you watch as he shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. Grinning, you move your mouth over his nipple, tongue flicking out lightly. A sharp hiss escapes through his gritted teeth, his head digging backward into the bed as he arches under you.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

A hum escapes you as you close your mouth over his nipple, sucking gently. He’s so sensitive, whining and squeezing your sides. You trail your mouth across his chest, leaving a wet trail as you do before dragging your teeth across his other nipple.

“Pretty,” you mumble again, moving your mouth lower. You teeth at his skin as you go, feeling him twitch beneath you. His hands drop to the sheet, twisting them in a vice grip as he lets you scoot down his lap until you’re off the bed and on the carpet, undoing his pants as you go.

Getting him out of his pants is hard - Soonyoung is loose-limbed and clumsy, hands shaking as he helps you pull the fabric down followed by his briefs. You let out an appreciative moan when you take his cock in your hand, heavy, warm and leaking at the tip.

He can barely keep it together when you stroke him, hand firm, thumb brushing over the sticky tip. You watch every reaction, eyes focused on the flush in his cheeks, the way he chews on his bottom lip to try and keep from whimpering, the way his fingers twist in the blankets.

“So perfect,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his inner thighs as you continue to work him with your hand. His hips twitch upward and you let him, continuing to run your tongue along his thigh. “You’re the perfect boyfriend.”

“Hnnn,” is the mumbled answer.

Leaning up high on your knees, you tilt his cock toward your mouth, licking leisurely around the tip. He keens and you smirk, feeling your cunt clench as you take him in your mouth properly, spurred on by the way he falls apart instantly.

This is another thing you love. It doesn’t matter the dynamic, Soonyoung always crumbles at your touch - craves it, needs it, wants it more than anything. It’s hard not to feel like a god as you hear him pant your name, watch the way the breath catches in his throat as you take him deep into your throat, the flat of your tongue scraping the underside of his cock as you go.

You’re not clean with it. You let spit drip out the corner of your mouth, let yourself gag a little. Work what you can’t fit past your lips with the rest of your hand, getting carried away. His hand shoots to your head - he doesn’t push or pull, just leaves it there, like it can ground him.

Pulling off with a loud pop, you give his shaft a squeeze, kissing the inside of his thigh again. A mix of cum and spit shine in the moonlight when you pull your mouth away.

“I love seeing you like this,” you rasp. “Love watching you fall apart.”

“Please,” he gasps, managing to lift his head up and look down at you. His hair is damp with sweat and his eyes are fucked out, gaze unfocused. “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.”

“I’ve got you.” You give a single, long lick up his shaft for good measure, feeling him tremble before you stand up to take your pants off. He makes a pitiful sound, hand shooting toward you, hating being away from you. “One second, baby. Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Naked, you crawl up the bed again. His hands shoot to your thighs, kneading the flesh and rubbing his palms up and down, warming you up. You feel the wetness drip down your thighs, worked up from working him up. From the way he moans when you press your pussy to his cock, you know he can feel it.

“All good?” you ask gently, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You hold yourself over him with one hand and bring the other up to brush the hair off his forehead. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No, just. Sensitive.”

“Mhmm. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”He nods in tiny, opening his eyes to look up at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all of his stars. “Good boy,” you breathe and he moans, hips canting upward to rub his cock against your folds. “I love you.”

He nods again, eager and desperate. “Love you.”

Sitting up on your knees, you reach a hand under you, gripping him firmly. Soonyoung opens his eyes, making sure to watch your every move with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. You feel drunk from the way he looks at you, as hypnotized by him as he is of you.

You press the tip of his cock against your entrance, both of you groaning. Carefully, you sink down on him, your breath getting stuck in your throat. The stretch punches the breath from your lungs but it’s good, the ache replaced with something stronger, better. He fills up every part of you - you feel him deep in your stomach as you fully seat yourself on him, ass pressed to his pelvis as you fight for air.

“Fuck, Soonyoung,” you mutter, falling forward to plant a hand on his chest. You lean your weight forward, pushing him into the mattress and holding yourself up. You can feel his thundering heart under your palm, beat matching your own pounding pulse. “Feel so good.”

“Wanna be. Wanna be for you.”

“You are. You always are. I could never want anything else, you know that right?” A tiny, barely there nod. “You make me feel so good. Always do.”

“Please.”

You know what he’s asking. You give it to him, slowly lifting yourself until you’ve almost pulled off him entirely. You drop back down hard, knocking the breath from your lungs as you spear yourself on him. It is intoxicatingly good, pleasure rippling outward like a stone dropped in a lake. You chase the feel, repeating the motion until you’re nearly mindless and out of breath.

“Shit,” you swear, laughing a little as your head drops down. You can’t focus on anything but rolling your hips, fucking yourself onto him as his hands grab your ass, not controlling you but gripping fiercely. “God damn fuck.”

Soonyoung laughs, deep and gravely as the cockiness you’re used to bleeds back in for a moment. “Yeah?”

You clench your cunt as you sink down on him, making him let out a high-pitched noise at the move and you grin. “Yeah,” you shoot back. “Thought so.”

A knot twists in your stomach as you set a smooth pace, thighs burning. Pleasure ribbons through you, twisting and turning, his hands dimpling your flesh. He lets you keep your pace at first, taking everything you give him, his feet planted flat on the mattress as he tries to contain himself, curses escaping between clenched teeth.

Your legs tremble. Your nails dig into the hard muscle of his chest. He senses your movements get a little strained, the pleasure making it harder to focus on lifting yourself. You feel his grip on your ass change, Soonyoung putting power behind it to help lift you up and pull you back down. He thrusts up to meet you, the wet squelch of his harder thrusts intoxicating.

“Fuck yeah,” you gasp, giving up the pretense of riding him and letting him take over. ��Fuck me just like that.”

It’s all he needs before his grip turns iron and he’s fucking up into you with abandon. Your hand slips on his chest as the power of his thrusts knock you off balance. You let yourself crash together, chest against chest. Soonyoung wraps his arms around your back, holding you to him.

Your mouth finds his neck, burying your face in there as you try to steady your breathing. It feels like your heart might explode, his name falling from your lips as you press them against his neck. He mumbles something unintelligible, pace picking up.

“Shit,” you pant. “Shit shit shit shit - Soonyoung - shit.”

He huffs, something like laughter before his pace is brutal. He fucks you fast and deep, your mind blanking as you crest upward. All you can do is hold on to him, mouth panting against his throat, your muscles squeeze squeeze squeezing until you’re coming hard.

Everything goes blank. Your ears ring and you’re vaguely aware of his wild thrusts as he chases his orgasm. You melt in his grip, letting him use you, completely boneless.

Soonyoung growls your name as he comes, pace slowing as he fucks you deep until he stills. You feel the stickiness between you and the way he’s still shaking. You rise and fall with his heavy breathing, both of your heartbeats erratic and thoughts staticky.

You lay there like that for a while, a pile of exhausted limbs and few thoughts. His arms loosen their grip around you and he starts rubbing his hands up and down your back. It draws you back into the moment more and you open your eyes to look up at him.

Soonyoung’s eyes are closed and his breathing is deep. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but rather enjoying the moment, his face tilted toward the window where the moon floats over the mountains. He looks so pretty like this, face soft and serene.

“You’re staring at me,” he murmurs, his voice low and spent. “You could at least tell me I’m pretty.”

“I just did. Several times.”

His mouth tilts upward but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I like hearing it.”

“Fine. You’re the prettiest boy.”

“Hmm. Yeah?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

“Say it again.” Soonyoung opens his eyes and they meet yours. They’re clearer now, and crinkled at the sides when he gives you a smile that feels far too innocent for the fluids running down your thighs and the way your cunt still clenches around him. “I like when you say it.”

“I love you.”

He smirks. “Just me?”

You lean up and nip his neck. He giggles, leaning away from you. “You. Always.”

He sighs. “Me,” he agrees. “Always.”

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sailoryooons · 8 months ago

Text

Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner??

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns.

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun.

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.”

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?”

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising.

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season.

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids.

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.”

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur.

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment.

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes.

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time.

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body.

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again.

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention.

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring.

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours.

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction.

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know.

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in.

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players.

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.”

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team.

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts.

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin.

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book.

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit.

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue.

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material.

But more than anything, you want him to be.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge

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jenanigans1207 · 2 months ago

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I could talk for hours about how unbelievably genius Misha is for the way he played Cas in s4. It set the tone for Cas’s character and it also gave us a visual representation of his progression throughout the series.

Like he plays Cas in s4 in a way that is clearly not human, but clearly different from the other angels, too. And yeah, I know he was first and the other actors came in and just didn’t take his lead, but he committed to it for the long haul and it’s brilliant. Because immediately— immediately we get the sense that Cas is different, that he doesn’t belong. But he doesn’t belong with the angels any more than he belongs with the humans and well, that’s the whole foundation of his character and his arc, isn’t it?

But here he is in s4 with his sort of professional monotone, his messy hair, his squint, and his propriety above all else. And over the seasons we watch him melt little by little. He gets some inflection in his voice, he makes different expressions and micro expressions, his posture relaxes and shifts. He continues to get further from the angels every day, but he gets closer to humanity every day, too. And Misha shows that transition so beautifully and in such minute changes that you sometimes take a few episodes to realize it.

And if he hadn’t played Cas the way he did in s4, the change would not be so obvious or powerful. Not to mention that s4 Cas just is best Cas because he’s fucking weird as hell and it’s so interesting and endearing.

Misha Collins is a brilliant actor in general but s4 Cas and the way his acting literally paved the path for Cas’s entire character arc is just another level of outstanding.

#castiel #misha collins #spn #supernatural

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ashwhowrites · 6 months ago

Note

Would it be okay if you could write deaf!reader x Eddie where she’s new at school and meets Eddie. The rest can be up to you. Thank you xxx

I have never written a deaf character before so the representation might be off, but I gave it a shot! I know in movies and shows, sometimes they can talk and sometimes it is just sign language, but I went with writing notes to make it romantic. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

I wrote a scene with a guitar amp and it was so hard to keep this story sweet and fluff and not turn it into smut

No words

It didn't take long for the new girl to catch Eddie's eyes. She was cute and seemed to be in her own little world. Eddie admired that she never seemed to care what happened around her.

He wanted to talk to her, but he wasn't the best at making a first impression. He wasn't the best at saying what he meant out loud. He was a writer. He wrote countless songs because he knew how to write down his feelings, not say them.

She was in a few of his classes, and he sat behind her. He watched as she walked into class, admiring her style. He assumed she was shy since she never spoke. She sat silently in class and kept to herself.

Eddie ripped out a piece of paper from a notebook he never touched. He scrambled down a message, then folded it. He took a deep breath and reached forward to tap her on the shoulder.

She turned around confused. She looked as the boy handed her something. She grabbed the note as she examined him.

He was mad cute. He had dark curly long hair, warm brown eyes, and pink lips. He wore a red and black flannel with dark jeans and dirty sneakers. She wished she could just stare but she didn't want to be creepy. She turned around and unfolded the paper.

"I'm Eddie, what's your name?"

She smiled to herself as she wrote her name underneath his. With a smile. She turned around and handed it back to him.

Eddie was shocked she wrote back to him. Before he could stare at her any longer, she turned around. Finally being that close to her face he realized she was prettier than ever.

His stomach fluttered as he saw her name and a tiny smile. Pleased that she didn't ignore him or write a mean message back.

"Well Y/N welcome to Hawkins High School. It sucks ass. The town is a little better, if you want a tour or anything I'm available."

She smiled as she felt a tap on her shoulder again, the teacher focused on the board as she turned. Her face burned as her fingers touched his as she took the note.

Eddie watched as her body moved up and down as she shook her head. He smiled as it seemed like she was laughing to herself. She felt nervous about saying yes, but she also didn't want to say no.

"Only if you promise to show me a great burger place ;)"

She waited until the teacher wasn't paying attention as she turned around and gave him the note. She turned around fast and Eddie opened it. He smiled and patted himself on the back.

The bell rang and she began to pack up. Eddie took a deep breath and walked in front of her desk.

"Hey Y/N," she looked up as she felt his presence. She focused on his lips. "Want to go after school today?"

She smiled and nodded

"Sweet, I'll meet you at the front?" he asked, he felt his face burn as she leaned close and stared at his lips. Her eyes squinted as she fully focused.

She nodded and smiled again. Waving goodbye as she walked to her next class.

Eddie waited outside the front door. He was nervous but excited. Befriending the new kid wasn't something Eddie ever did, but there was something about her that he wanted to know.

He smiled as she came into view, she waved as she got closer.

They didn't talk as they headed to his van. A couple students whispered as the two passed. And some students began to yell "FREAK!"

He felt comforted by the fact she didn't seem to notice it. And if she did, she ignored it.

Eddie started the van and turned down his radio, he remembered how loud he had it blaring this morning. He smiled over at her and she smiled back.

It didn't take long to make it to the burger place. The ride was a tad awkward as she didn't really talk, it more was of Eddie talking to himself.

They got seated in a booth, Eddie sat across from her as he nervously flipped through the menu.

He felt a soft tap on his menu, and he looked up.

Y/N smiled as she handed him a piece of paper.

He took the paper and read it, his eyebrows scrunched.

"I should probably tell you that I am deaf, so I'll be staring at your lips to communicate with you. Also, can you order for me?"

Eddie smiled and nodded. He snatched her pen and quickly wrote his own message.

She happily read it as he wrote

"No problem, I've been told I talk too much so maybe you not hearing me talk is a win. I will order for you, what would you like?"

Her heart raced as he moved on from the topic like it didn't change anything.

"Bacon cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate shake. Thank you for this, I'm excited to get to know you better and would love to watch you talk for hours :)"

~~~

The first date went amazing in Eddie's eyes. He didn't mind writing down his words, he enjoyed watching her reactions as she read the words. They ate, and he made her laugh over and over.

He knew he wanted to ask her on another date, he wanted to ask her out every night of the week.

She waved as she walked into class, Eddie gave her a flirty nod that made her dash for her seat faster.

He grabbed a piece of paper and began writing but she slid a note right on top of his.

He looked up as she turned around.

He opened it as the teacher wasn't looking

"Date #2? I saw an ice cream place on our tour yesterday."

Eddie came prepared for this date, he had a notebook and all different kinds of pens.

She waited on a bench outside as he ordered their ice cream. He prayed he'd make it to her before dropping any on the ground.

She smiled as he sat down next to her and handed her the ice cream. The first few minutes were silent as they tried to eat the ice cream before it began to melt.

They asked many questions about each other yesterday, so Eddie tried to think of new things to talk about.

"You look beautiful"

She felt her cheeks warm as she read his handwriting, she wrote just below his message. He watched as she wrote,

"Thank you. You are pretty cute too"

"You have a little something on your cheek,"

She read the note and was confused. She looked up at Eddie and she felt a cold glob on her cheek.

She watched as Eddie's face morphed into a smile as he laughed behind his hand. She smiled and grabbed a chunk of her ice cream, she watched as Eddie's smile dropped.

"No no, I'm sorry!" he said as she read his lips. He got up to run but she was fast behind him. He didn't make it far before she jumped on his back, his arms catching her legs as she smeared her ice cream right on his nose.

He let her down as he laughed, then she joined in.

"Uncool," he teased once he faced her. She just smiled and shrugged.

He smiled as he leaned in, his hand on her cheek as he wiped off the ice cream with his thumb.

Her breathing got faster as he looked into her eyes, his soft touch on her cheek made her heart race.

"Can I kiss you?"

He felt his stomach turn with nerves as he waited for her to read his lips. He got even more nervous when she blinked but didn't say anything.

He wanted to kiss her? She had never kissed anyone before and she wanted to tell him how nervous she was but she couldn't walk away.

She grabbed his hand and softly used her finger to write letters. He concentrated as he watched her fingers spell something out.

"N.E.R.V.O.U.S"

"Ner-nervous? You are nervous?" he asked, she watched his lips and then nodded. He cupped her jaw with his free hand, watching as she took a deep breath.

"Me too," he whispered, she read his lips and then saw his lips moving closer to her.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It took a few seconds for her to shake off the nerves and kiss him back. She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest.

He tasted of chocolate chip ice cream. And his lips felt amazing against hers. The kiss got better as they grew both confident.

He pulled away with a beaming smile, the ice cream on his nose transferred to her face.

"Let's get cleaned up," he laughed, she nodded and followed behind. Butterflies in her stomach as she felt her lips.

~~~

After many more dates, they became an official couple. Eddie's friends made sure she was comfortable and talked slowly so she could read their lips. They didn't mind reading and writing to communicate. It was clear that there was a connection between her and Eddie.

Eddie adjusted and took a beginner class in sign language. He was proud to show what he learned after every class. Sometimes he taught her new words.

One thing Y/N hated was that she couldn't share music with Eddie. She learned that was a huge part of his life from the beginning, and it made her sad that she could never hear him sing or play.

That doesn't mean Eddie ever excluded her. He'd have her sit next to his guitar amp, hook it all up, and let her feel the music as it played through. He'll never forget how excited she was when she could feel the music against her hand.

And that's what she did at his shows. She sat front row and placed her hands on the speakers.

He did it all because he loved her...he just hasn't said it yet.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson x deaf!reader

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peachyscenes · 10 months ago

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perv!ateez thoughts

note: this isn’t an actual representation of ateez. all for fun, just some thoughts. gender neutral reader. MDNI!

reblogs appreciated!!

—————

perv!hongjoong doesn’t mean to perv on you. ‘it’s natural!’ he thinks to himself when he envisions how you’d look underneath him. he just likes you so much, he can’t help but squint a bit whenever you’re wearing a white shirt. or when a bit of your underwear is showing. just seeing a tiny bit of the band sends his blood to his cock and he has to excuse himself to the bathroom to jerk-off to the vision of you stripping for him.

this isn’t the first time he sees you in your pool. this also isn’t the first time perv!seonghwa uses this opportunity to try to get a peak at your almost naked body. your bathing suit hugs you so well too. he thinks he's in heaven when you unravel the towel from your body. he groans as he sees you climb out of your pool, all in your wet glory. he almost cums in his pants when you decide to lounge on one of your pool chairs. and you're still wet. the light of the sun only doing you justice as it makes your skin glow. if he runs upstairs for his telescope, he's certain he can be able to see more of your assets.

he has your minutes counted and perv!yunho knows that at any second you're going to walk through your bedroom door with a towel wrapped around. you tend to take quick showers, which is why yunho has to hurry when he knows your soccer practices are over. he fist pumps the air when he sees that he beat you. his bedroom window faced yours and if he opened his curtains enough, he could see you. and then you enter your bedroom. he grows hard seeing your naked body once you unravel your towel. he notices your body lotion and makes note to buy the same one so he knows what you smell like.

perv!yeosang feels ashamed. not for having a crush on you, his roommate, but for listening in when you masturbate. it's to the point where he has your schedule for your "personal sessions" memorized. he can't help himself though! he just wants you so, so, so bad. tonight is another one of your sessions and like a moth to a lamp, he's outside your door. your moans are so sweet. you're very vocal and that's something that he's always appreciated about you, especially since he's more reserved. perv!yeosang stand outside your door, turned on, and wonders if you'd be a vocal if he were there. he wondered if you wouldn't mind taking the lead.

i have to stop he thinks to himself. you're going to notice soon and he's pretty sure that you're going to know immediately. i mean, the poor boy can't even lie properly. perv!san feels like he's on a top secret mission whenever you decide to hop in the shower. he's your best friend, but is this what best friends do? stealing each other's underwear? in his defense, you just smell so good. he especially likes your underwear that you've worn for more than 2 days. quickly, he stashes them into his pocket before sitting on your sofa like he didn't just steal your underwear to smell and jerk off to later from your dirty clothes bin.

perv!mingi seems like he's a sweet guy. and he is! he'll stand behind you going up the stairs or the escalators when you're at the mall. he'll offer hospitality jacket if you feel too cold in your outfit. he'll even compliment your shirt. but if you catch him at the right time, he's staring at your ass. or slightly touching the skin of your exposed midriff. or staring at your chest, especially if you have on a tight fitted shirt. deep down, mingi wants you to catch him, that way he can drop his little nice guy act and show you what he really wants to do to you.

feeding you is his favorite thing. perv!wooyoung just loves getting food with you. it doesn't matter if it's take out or at home, he's going to stuff you. he also wonders if the way you let him feed you, you'd let him stuff your mouth with his own cock. if the way you'd hum at new flavors is how you would hum at the taste of him on your tongue. wooyoung wants you to taste him and everything about him. he wants to give you the best of the best meals, and of course that includes him as well.

perv!jongho feels like such a teenage boy when he sees you during his gym time. today you're working on your legs and he feels himself drooling at your toned thighs. he almost moaned seeing the bit of sweat on your forehead and neck and he wondered if you would look the same if he was between your legs. he thanked whoever you believed in for your choice of clothing today too. shorts that really accentuated your ass and a compression shirt that made him almost bite his own tongue off.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader smut #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut

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changbunnies · 1 year ago

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Connected (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight!Bang Chan x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: angst, fluff, royal au, historical au, knight x princess au, arranged marriage (for reader), forbidden love, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining (they are so oblivious)

♡ Word Count: 15.9k (oops lmao)

♡ Summary: Y/N, as princess of the kingdom, is destined to marry for politics and financial gain, but all she wants is to marry for love. Chan, her childhood friend turned royal knight, has to either come to terms with her inevitable marriage, or finally confess the feelings he's been harboring for years.

♡ Warnings: very brief minho x reader, extremely jealous chan, also lowkey possessive chan, (he's not in any toxic way at all but still), reader is implied to be plus size, old timey traditions and expectations of women to suit the setting, i think thats about it ??

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (princess (mostly as a title), darling, my love) loss of virginity (both reader and chan are virgins), nipple play, fingering (f rec), unprotected piv, creampie, overall very soft sex with some shyness and teasing sprinkled in, breeding kink if you squint

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03 here and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams ! and thank you so much for all the love my works have gotten so far, i appreciate it sm !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

A sigh passes your lips as you stare out at the sprawling nature before you from up on your balcony. The sight of trees swaying in the wind, flowers blooming towards the sun, and animals skittering about on the earth below always helped to ease your troubled mind.

You always found yourself here when the worries of life and your duty proved too much for you. As the kingdom’s heir to the throne, you weren't often afforded the luxury of leaving your castle, or dirtying your soles by prancing in the nearby forest.

Instead, you often had to settle for the next best thing– simply observing it. Normally that was enough for you, but on days like today, where you were constantly bombarded with responsibility and expectations, you wished you could flee into the forest and never look back. It would be difficult to flee your life, but surely it would be better than this. You were tired of feeling so stifled all the time.

"All that sighing isn't going to help, Princess," a familiar voice speaks from the doorway of your bedroom. "I know that," you frown, turning to look at your childhood friend turned royal knight with crossed arms and a glare on your face.

You know Chan doesn’t mean to add to your frustration, and normally you wouldn’t snap at him over a comment made in jest, but you're really in no mood for it right now. You’ll apologize later when you’re less quick to anger; right now, you are currently too stuck in your feelings to respond kindly.

It'd been a week since you were informed of your inevitable marriage, and you still hadn’t come to terms with it to any degree. Your father, the current King, informed you that the eligible men who desired your hand would be arriving later in the month, and how you were expected to be on your best "womanly" behavior when meeting your suitors for the first time. You knew it would happen someday but you still loathed the idea of it.. It made you feel like an object, like a pawn to be used rather than a person with her own thoughts and feelings.

"My apologies Princess, but you've been really down these past few days. I thought you might enjoy some company," Chan explains with his perfectly rehearsed politeness that you haven't quite gotten used to hearing yet. "Stop calling me Princess when it's just the two of us, it's unnecessary," you complain while Chan looks at you with a playful smile.

"Very well, Princess," he teases in response, laughing when you scowl at him for it. Chan has been your knight for a little over a year now, and while you did enjoy having him around more often, the tone shift from friend to knight was jarring. There were times where you missed your old dynamic, when he'd speak to you with no pleasantries or titles (though it did often incur the wrath of your attendants for being 'disrespectful' to the princess.)

You never found him disrespectful however; you actually quite liked that he always spoke to you candidly and without pretenses. Even as a kid you'd noticed the way commoners treated you differently from everyone else, and you liked that Chan didn't. Though he was just a child like yourself at the time, and most likely did not realize the impact it had on you, you enjoyed being able to feel like a normal person.

He was often on the castle grounds due to his parents, his mother a maidservant and his father a horseman. And while he was never supposed to have met you due to the difference in station, you two often found yourselves in each other's path.

You learned to ride horses together under his father's tutelage, he would accompany his mother around the castle as she cleaned various rooms, and he’d always wave to you with a goofy smile while you were studying (even if it ended in a scolding from the adults around him.)

You had quickly become fond of him, your only friend in an otherwise lonely world. You can remember fondly the days where he would distract you from your lessons by making silly gestures behind your tutors' backs, and how he’d gift you trinkets from outside the castle’s walls, such as cheap dolls and freshly picked flowers.

They were “plain” by royal standards, but you still loved them dearly, as they were things you had never had in your life until he brought them to you. He would even bring delicious pastries and fresh bread made by his mother, which had become your favorite things to eat simply because it was so different from everything else you were allowed to have.

Chan steps onto the balcony, taking his place next to you. He leans against the banister, staring out at the scenery that held your attention moments ago. "I don't want you to get married yet either," he admits after a brief moment of silence. You look at him, taking in the sullen expression on his face. You are initially surprised he looks so sad, allowing you to catch a glimpse at his usually hidden vulnerability.

You know very well that he, like anyone, is capable of feeling a depth of complex emotions, but he rarely shows you that side of himself. You spend so much of your days stressed or tired or daydreaming about being anything other than what you are, so he chooses not to burden you with any feelings he has. You've told him many times that he could, even encouraged him to share with you, but he always said he'd rather focus on making you feel better because that would make him feel better too.

“You don’t..?” you ask, though you wonder what you are even expecting to hear in response. He’s your best friend and he cares about your feelings, so obviously he doesn’t want to see you go through something you hate. It obviously it saddens him to see a friend hurting– but despite yourself, you still hope for his feelings to go beyond that.

You want to hear him say he cares about your inevitable marriage not as a concerned best friend, but as a man. A man who loves you, a man who wants you, a man who would fight for your hand in marriage against all odds. It's foolish, you know this, but you can’t stop yourself but hoping for it.

Your heart ignores the logic your brain provides, disregarding that he'll never be allowed to marry you even if he did have romantic feelings for you and was willing to fight against tradition for you. It doesn't matter that he has devoted his life to protecting you, that he's extremely well read or gifted in combat, or that he grew up within the same castle walls that you have. He will always be "beneath you", his merits never good enough, all because he was born to commoners.

You always hated that. Why do the circumstances of someone's birth have to matter so much? Why does fate have to be decided based on what family you are born into?

And you can still remember vividly the day you realized you cared for him as more than just the best friend you grew up with. When he stood before you, handsome in his weathered training armor and practice sword in hand, smiling proudly as he devoted his life to your care, your heart fluttered.

Chan worked hard to be your knight, practiced with his sword to the point of exhaustion, spent countless hours reading about affairs between nations and studying combat techniques, all to be the one who protects you. He dedicated his life to you, to being by your side through everything, even if it meant putting his personal affairs on hold.

There were times where you still didn’t understand why he sacrificed so much of his freedom for you. The life you lived was so stuffy and restricting, and he could do anything. He could do whatever he wanted with life, live anywhere in the world, choose from a myriad of careers, yet he chose to be stuck in the castle with you for the rest of his youth.

The day you turned 14, you confessed to him that you were dreading the day you both became adults because you knew your lives would take you different places. Even if he followed in his father’s footsteps and became the castle's horseman, you'd likely rarely, if ever, see him. It was something you thought about a lot, as you were often reminded by your elders of your responsibilities to the kingdom, but that day it was hitting you particularly hard.

That day sticks firmly in Chan's head as well; he can still remember the way tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the reality of getting older and the responsibilities that were soon to follow already bearing heavily on you.

That was the day he decided he’d work hard to always be near you, as he never wanted to see you cry over his separation from you. If there was no reason for him to stay, he would make one. If it meant freedom and choice was taken from him, he was willing to let those things go. If it was for you, it would be worth it.

When you asked him why he decided to become a knight despite the sacrifice and responsibility it entailed, why he was willing to give up so much to stay in the castle with you, he simply smiled at you. “It’s where I am meant to be,” he replied, dimples lighting up his face in an expression so sweet it made your stomach flip.

You fell in love with him that day. Or maybe you always loved him, and that was the day you fully realized it. That intangible feeling that always lingered whenever you looked at him, that you couldn’t hold and understand but knew was there. It was love, all that time. You knew it then, and you still know it now. Chan is the only person you will ever love.

He spends the rest of the afternoon comforting you, as he always does when you are feeling unhappy and indignant. Giving you kind words or gentle, comforting silence when you need it, transitioning into his goofy side who makes jokes and does his best to make you laugh as soon as you show that you are feeling better.

And it does help, but in a way it also makes it worse. Because unbeknownst to him, he’s just reaffirming your love for him. For every gesture that endears you to him, it also makes your heart sink even further. And worse of all, you can’t even be upset about it– because he doesn’t know your feelings, he doesn’t know how his kindness feels akin to a knife in your gut.

And it’s likely he’ll never know. Because when can you tell him? How can you tell him? It’s not meant to be, and it never will be. For as long as you are royalty, he’ll never be allowed to love you, and you’ll never be allowed to love him. The sooner you accept it the better off you’ll be, but you don’t know if you ever can.

How do you make yourself stop loving someone so perfect? How do you put aside your feelings, how do you pretend that they never existed in the first place? You’re lost, you’re stuck, and you know nothing will change it.

You suppose the best you can do is enjoy the little time you have remaining. Live in the moment with him instead of worrying so much about the future, because once it’s here you won’t be able to get this time back.

That’s why you smile for him, earnestly. You laugh with him the way you always do, you reminisce about your childhoods, you talk about all your favorite things instead of wallowing in what you hate. You don’t allow yourself to frown or cry until he’s gone for the night, the setting of the sun beckoning him out of your room and to his own.

You cry as you wash off the day's grime in the bath, you cry as you towel off in front of the mirror, and you cry as you lie in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you think about all the joy you will never have.

Because you will lose Chan before you ever even had him. Never being allowed to hold his hand, to kiss him, to lie with him.. Because he is your knight, and a princess isn’t supposed to fall in love with one.

It’d been over a month since your suitors first started arriving at the castle to meet you, settling into their guest rooms and (frustratingly) occupying your days. You were as respectful as you were expected to be, but you really didn’t put in any effort to get to know them more deeply. You just weren’t interested in any romantics with them.

If the situation were different, and these were men you were meeting with the prospect of friendship or strengthening ties between allied kingdoms platonically, you would be much more susceptible to the pleasantries. As it stands now, you can’t put yourself out there for them the way you are expected to.

Most of them seem nice enough, and for the ones with gentler personalities you do feel bad for your standoff-ish attitude, but showing your disinterest firmly is the best way to not give anyone false hopes. You know you won’t fall in love with any of them, and wouldn’t it be worse to lead them on by having no backbone?

Sure, you could be a bit nicer, but why would you be? They are all here with the intention to marry you, they all have a goal in mind– to win you over by any means necessary. Even if they had the purest of intentions, it wouldn’t sway you to change your mind so easily.

At the end of the day, no matter who is here for a chance at genuine love and who is here for political gain, you are being treated like an object, and it’s something you detest with your entire being. And even leaving aside your feelings for Chan (which undeniably also plays a part in your disdain for your situation), you still wouldn’t enjoy this process.

Maybe it was your own fault for idolizing fairytales and spending your free time daydreaming about what your perfect life would look like, but what can you say? You’re a hopeless romantic, even to a fault, it seems. Is it truly so bad for you to want genuine love with someone? A love that happens organically, unforced by any outside factors pushing for it?

And now here you are, letting your maids prepare your attire and dress for tonight’s ball, where you will be expected to mingle with and accept the advances of your suitors, even if it is performative in nature. You try your best not to scowl in disapproval when your maids talk excitedly about your “romances”, who they think is most handsome out of your suitors, and who they hope you will choose.

You wish you could scream out, “I choose none! I don’t want to marry any of them!” You’d gladly let these girls take their pick of the men who came for you. It seems that the fan favorite, as it were, is Sir Minho, the handsome son to Duke Lee in the western lands. Apart from being attractive, he’s well-mannered, compassionate with animals, and skilled in battles of wit.

If you were being truthful, he was an easy pick. He was easily the most desirable of every suitor, not just from a personal standpoint, but also from a political standpoint. Keeping relations with the west positive would lower chances of revolt or separation into their own independent nation.

Yes, if you were smart and not at all stubborn, you would most certainly pick Minho. But stubborn you undeniably were; opinions firm and unbending, resistant to compromise or sacrifice.

And honestly, shouldn’t that be expected? Why wouldn’t the princess, who is capable of having everything material she ever wanted, not be selfish when it comes to love? You like to think yourself a reasonable person, one who makes sound decisions and goes through life with a firm sense of rationality. However, when it comes to Chan, all rational thought and decision making seems to leave you, replaced solely by emotion.

Your heart overtakes you, arguing fiercely with your rational and intelligent brain, as if making the logical, sensible choice would be foolish despite the reality being the opposite. You let out a sigh, that your maids thankfully mistake as one of exhaustion. While you arguably had the easiest job in the room, just sitting around and letting others doll you up, it was still tiring in its own right.

Layers upon layers of petticoats, chemises, and skirts, tight garters to hold up your stockings, squeezing into a corset and then adding even more layers on top of that.. If the end result wasn’t so gorgeous, you’d absolutely hate this process. And god forbid you needed to use the bathroom at any point– that endeavor in itself was hellish.

After the grueling task of fitting you into your finest royal blue ensemble, your hair and makeup came next. You begged for it to be on the simpler side, as you would be occupied for hours tonight and really didn't want to worry about keeping it pristine the entire time, and they thankfully obliged the request. There’s a few moments of downtime when they are finished, which gives you time to breathe and prepare yourself mentally for the night’s festivities.

There is a knock on the door, which the maids closest to the door don’t hesitate to open. It’s Chan, of course, as it’s his job to come collect you whenever it’s necessary for you to leave your room. That’s another reason this night you’re upset about tonight– you wish you could walk together to the ballroom as a couple, instead of as a knight and princess.

“It is time to go, Princess. The guests have begun arriving in the ballroom,” he says, keeping his gaze professional under the watchful eyes of the maids in the room.

But God, is that hard for him. You're so unbelievably beautiful it makes his heart feel like it's twisting in his chest. He’s lucky that no one in the room seemed to notice the way it stole his breath away, or the way his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they should have before he directed you to follow him out of the door.

You thank your maids for their help before you depart, and they all say some variation of “have fun!” as you leave the room. “Fun” is doubtful in this scenario, but you’ll certainly try to not be miserable. Try being the keyword– you make no such promises of how things will actually play out.

You put on the best smile you can manage when you enter the room, letting various guests greet you, briefly indulging them in small talk before Chan helps you move your way past them. You take a seat next to your parents, with Chan standing just a few feet away– a respectable distance as to not intrude on the royal family, but close enough to reach you quickly if something went wrong.

As is to be expected, sticking close to your parents and away from the dancing doesn’t spare you from any attention. Those who are permitted to speak with the royal family appear to you in a near constant stream, with monotonous questions about how you’ve been and how you feel about your inevitable marriage in tow.

God, the night has just begun and you’re already tired. Is it too early to retreat back to the safety of your room? You take a quick glance around the ballroom, taking note of all the guests you have an obligation to talk to and who you could feasibly get away with staying away from.

Unfortunately, it seems like your evening will be full of talking to people you don't want to deal with. You said you'd try to have a good time, but that didn't mean you had to right this second, did it? You're definitely staying at the table for as long as possible, even if it causes your guests to think of you disfavorably (and if you're lucky, it will.)

It's probably about two hours into the gathering when your parents seem to grow tired of you doing nothing but sitting with them at the head table. You can tell even before it happens that your mother and father have something to say about your silent protest.

"Why aren't you out there, dear?" your mother asks, taking a gentler approach despite the obvious frown of displeasure on her face. Truthfully, she understands your sadness and feels for your plight, but she can’t allow you to wallow in it.

You are very clearly sulking, proper manners ignored as you sit with crossed arms and a pout. “Don’t like to dance,” you lie, but everyone near you knows that isn’t true.

You normally loved dancing. You would attend your dance lessons enthusiastically, and later you would sneak Chan into the ballroom to teach him everything you learned. Although he loved music and followed rhythms easily on his own, his initial steps with you were always awkward. His excuse was that he was nervous to be dancing with the princess, but you would remind him that since being the princess never made him hesitate with you before, it shouldn’t matter now.

In all honesty, a majority of his nerves came from being afraid of making a mistake in front of you. Chan could normally dance very well, often being complimented and told he was a natural at it, but doing it with you made him especially nervous. What if you felt how sweaty his palms were becoming just from having you closer than usual? What if you could hear how loudly his heart was pounding? What if the nerves made him do the steps wrong?

He really liked you, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in your presence. Chan is often goofy, yes, but it was always willfully. He liked making you laugh and smile, but he didn’t want that side of him to be out in that moment. He found himself wanting you to see a different side of him, he wanted to impress you with how easily he picked up what you taught him, he wanted you to compliment him with your sweet voice.

To his own relief, Chan eventually managed to conquer his nerves, and he was able to pick up the steps and lead the dance without making an embarrassment of himself. Soon enough, the two of you would regularly spend hours in the ballroom together, dancing until late into the evening. With no band to play music for you, the both of you would take turns humming melodies, though you always preferred when Chan was the one doing it as his voice was so melodic and beautiful to you.

With your memories of each shared, secret dance so clear in your mind, how can you dance with any of these men and not think of Chan? How do you look at any of them and not compare their differences? How can you be with them without thinking about how you’d rather be with Chan instead? Even if they were lovely, even if they were without flaw, they weren’t who you wanted to be with.

You glance at Chan, who has to remain stone faced in these moments. Your parents are aware that you became friends with him well before he was inaugurated into knighthood, but they don’t realize to what extent.

They don’t know about the countless hours spent together, how you’d disregard rules to be near him, or how you’d sneak him into spaces he normally wouldn’t be allowed in. He can’t make them aware of how close the two of you truly are by reacting, and you know this well, but you still can't help but seek him out in every moment.

Noticing you looking at him, Chan shoots you a small look of sympathy before your parents can notice, doing his best to ease you despite the restrictions. He knows you don’t want to do this, and that you hate being scolded and reminded of how “important” it is to have a “good” husband.

“Good” meaning having power, or wealth, or a prestigious lineage in this case. You don’t want to care about formalities, traditions, or responsibilities. You don’t want to prioritize superficial qualities or be in a loveless marriage purely for alliance.

Is it really so terrible for you to just be in love with someone for who they are instead of what they have? You don’t care about what they have to offer or what legacies their families hold. You want to be with the person whose smile lights up your world. You want to be with the person who sacrificed so much just to stay within your realm. You want Chan.

“Your suitors would love to dance with you,” your father says, “You should at least try to get along with them, don’t be stubborn. You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.” Chan watches your expression change, the mix of anger and sadness bubbling within you becoming increasingly more apparent. He wishes he could rush to your side and help, but he can't. So instead he stands in place, fists clenched in a vain effort to ground himself as he remains frozen to his spot.

“Of course father,” you say as you stand, biting your tongue so as to not make a scene in the middle of an extravagant ball. Despite your tumultuous feelings, you're not foolish enough to disrespect the king with an audience. “I need a moment, if you’ll allow it,” you say and your father nods, finding it a reasonable enough compromise.

You bow politely before you go despite how badly you wish you could storm out and give a bitter display of resentment. Chan moves to follow you, (which he would do even if it wasn't his job,) but your mother calls for him to wait a moment. “I’m aware my daughter is unhappy about this, but try to talk some sense into her for me, will you? I doubt she’ll listen to us, upset as she is. She may find it easier to listen to someone unattached to the situation.”

‘Unattached.’ If only she knew Chan was terribly, terribly attached to the situation– attached to you. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answers politely, bowing before he steps away to follow your path out of the ballroom. It doesn’t take him long to find you despite his delay leaving; he knows you well enough to know where you prefer to be when upset.

You are outside, sitting on the steps leading to the garden, arms hugging your legs with your head against your knees. You feel trapped, and looking out at nature always helps (even if in this case said nature was still confined within the castle’s walls.) You lift your head when you hear Chan’s footsteps behind you, wiping stray tears from your eyes as he approaches. “Y/N..” he speaks softly, heart tugging at him painfully; he always hated seeing you cry.

He sits next to you, deciding comforting you was more important than worrying about who would see the two of you being close. If he gets in trouble, so be it; you need your friend right now, not your knight. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you carefully to his side. “I hate this,” you mumble with a trembling voice, burying your face in his shoulder.

Chan swallows, trying to find the words to say. He hates it too– unbearably so. Every time he pictures you being in love with someone else it makes him physically ill. He doesn’t want to think about how devastated he’ll be hearing you say ‘I love you’ to another man, how excruciating it will be for him to watch from the sidelines while you build a future with someone he can never be.

He knows his heart will crumble when he sees you make your eternal vows to someone else, so beautiful and demure and forever out of his reach. He made his promise to be your knight for the remainder of his days knowing this is what it would entail, but fuck, it still hurts.

Chan has always considered himself a strong and resilient person, and he felt like he could handle this inevitability, but maybe he was naive to think so; nothing could have prepared him for how painful the reality actually was. His mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone unattainable– his mistake was thinking he could survive the heartbreak.

In all his life, he’ll never regret falling in love with you or becoming the knight you need, but he’s still human. A selfish human, who wants more than he can be granted, who wants to marry his beloved princess more than any treasure or title in the world.

Chan does his best to keep his breathing steady, not wanting to alert you that he was affected by this way more than a friend or knight should be. He thinks about what your father said to you shortly before you left the ballroom. ‘You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.’

As much as he hated to admit it, your father had a point. And he could see why your mother wanted him to make you understand, but did he really have it in him to follow her request? Could he encourage you to try to fall in love with someone else knowing how it’d tear him apart?

It’s the last thing he ever wants to do, but devoting his life to you meant he had to put aside selfish desires. He couldn’t let his love for you cloud his judgment, he couldn’t sabotage your chance at happiness to make himself feel better. How can he be a proper knight if he puts his selfish hopes above what is best for you in the long run?

“Listen.. I know you might not want to hear this but.. Your parents have a point. You should get to know them better,” Chan speaks cautiously, trying to prepare for whatever reaction you might have. It kills him to say it, not just because he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, but also because he knows you won’t want to hear this from him. He watches you freeze, staring at him in something akin to saddened disbelief.

You feel as if your cracked heart has now completely shattered. If there was any doubt before, now you know. Chan doesn’t love you the way you love him. He wouldn’t be okay with this if he loved you, he wouldn’t want to see you marry someone if he wanted you the way you want him. Your feelings have always been one sided. You swallow, trying not to cry any more than you already have or show how hurt that made you feel.

“So you agree with them then..” your voice is quiet and defeated. What do you even say..? Should you admit that one of the reasons this is so hard for you is because you’re in love with him? Would that even change anything? You always knew being in love with him was a fool’s endeavor, and now that truth was solidified.

“It’s not that. You know I don't want you to, it’s just– I know you’re miserable right now. And the reality is that you’ll have to marry one of them. If you get to know them and grow to love one of them, it’d be better for you. The way things are now, you’ll never be happy, and that's all I want for you.. Just to be happy,” he says, trying his best to show you how earnest he is.

He’s so fucking in love with you, of course he doesn’t want to see you marry someone else, it’s the last thing he ever wants. He doesn’t want to watch you fall in love with one of them, he doesn’t want to sit on the sidelines while you give your love to someone else, but he can’t keep denying the reality before him. Despite how selfish he is, he can’t put himself and what he wants above you.

And putting those selfish desires aside, he just wants you to have a good, happy life, even if that happiness comes from someone else. No matter how badly he wishes he could be the one you spend your forever with, it’s not the life that is meant for him. He has to come to terms with that, now more than ever. He has to, because it'll break him apart if he doesn't.

You look at him now, and as much as it hurts, you can see the sincerity. Even though it’s not what you wanted to hear, you know how much he cares about you. Even now, he’s looking out for you and trying his best.

Maybe he doesn't love you the way you love him, but it is a form of love nonetheless. His actions have never shown you anything different, and even if it’s not the sort of romantic love you want it to be, you should be happy with what you already have with him.

You separate yourself from his gentle hold, standing quickly as you do your best to wipe your tears without ruining your makeup any further. “You’re right. I’ll try,” you say, forcing yourself to find the resolve you desperately need to get this night over with. He smiles at you, albeit strained as he suffers with his own tumultuous emotions, and rises to his feet as well.

Chan gives you one last gesture of comfort, a gentle squeeze to your hand, before he leads you back to the ballroom where everyone waits for you to return. “Are you ready?” He asks when you are both stopped in front of the doors.

You sigh, taking just a small moment before you nod and allow yourself to enter the bustling room. You’re not ready, but it will never get any easier, so you suppose you’ll just have to accept that and get on with it regardless.

You leave Chan standing with your parents, where he can still have you in his line of sight while not intruding upon anything you need to do. You suppose if you’re really going to commit to this, you should go with the obvious choice– Lee Minho. It doesn’t take you long to spot him either; all you had to do was follow the gaze of infatuated maids to see him standing in a bubble with other high society guests your father invited to the event.

“Sir Minho, are you occupied?” you ask as you step forward to him, the crowd that had gathered around him easily dissipating to allow the princess closer to her suitor. “Of course not, Princess. Would you like to dance?” he smiles politely as he holds out his arm for you, and you accept it, letting him lead you toward the center of the ballroom.

Another thing you suppose you should do if you’re really going to commit to this is apologize. You doubt anything will genuinely come of it on your part, but it’d be best to not have a marriage start off with bitterness in your heart if it does miraculously develop into something more.

Honestly you’d rather scream and kick than offer an apology you don’t entirely mean but.. What other option is there at this point? "Listen, I'm sorry for how cold I've been towards you. It's not due to any fault of your own, it's just.."You pause briefly, trying to think of how best to continue that line of dialogue, but Minho speaks up before you can.

“It’s just that you are being forced into a marriage you don’t want?" Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you desperately try to find a way to dismiss his accurate assessment. Were you that transparent? 'Of course you were, idiot,' you curse yourself. Maybe you should've practiced subtlety.

"I get it. You aren’t the only one unhappy about this,” he continues, further surprising you. He chuckles at your shocked expression, amusement in his voice. “What, is that hard to believe?”

"I.. I guess I just assumed everyone is here because they want to be. It didn’t occur to me that you would be in a similar situation to myself,” you answer truthfully. Maybe you would have realized sooner if you hadn't been so stuck in your ways, so quick to ignore and dismiss every suitor that came close to you.

“I don’t blame you for thinking that. I’m sure most of the men are here because they want to be. I consider myself an outlier,” Minho speaks nonchalantly, but now that you are really looking at him, you can tell he is just as unhappy to be forced into this as you are. You also get the impression that he’s good at keeping a cool exterior, likely due to years of experience at suppressing his actual desires, the same as you.

“Is there someone else? Someone you love, back at home?” you ask, and Minho smiles sadly as he nods. “There is. They mean the world to me. I asked them to wait for me, I told them I wouldn’t leave them but.. I don’t know what will happen, if I'm being honest.” He tries to mask how upset he is to admit that, but you can see it.

Maybe you’d be as oblivious to it as everyone else seemed to be if you weren’t dealing with similar emotions. You feel a strange sort of kinship with him now, realizing how parallel your situations seem to be. “I’ll make sure you can be reunited. I may not have much power as it stands now, but I can do that at least.”

Minho smiles at your reply, but shakes his head, as if your act of kindness would be futile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it would only be temporary. I’m sure even if I don’t marry you, my father will just send me off to another castle to find a spouse. It’s all he cares about.”

You frown, about to speak reassurances or some other comforting statement, but he stops you before you can. “What about you, Princess? Is there someone you love?” Minho asks, easily shifting the focus off of himself.

You hesitate a moment, debating on whether it would be wise for you to talk about. But, Minho already shared with you even if it could be a risk for him to admit, so.. You decide to be honest. “There is. He.. is the best person I've ever known.”

“I thought so. Not to sound overconfident, but most women fall at their feet for a chance to speak with me,” Minho smirks and you laugh, the first genuine laugh you’ve had all evening. “Well, you are handsome. I may love someone else, but I’m not blind.” Your reply makes Minho laugh as well, the conversation turning into something you can actually enjoy.

“It’s good to know the Princess isn’t rejecting me for my looks. I can sleep assured about my handsome features tonight,” he jokes, and if you weren’t in public you’d most certainly slap him on the arm. You didn't expect his personality to be what it is, but you suppose that's one of the charms that draws people to him.

“The person you love– do they know how you feel?” He asks after a beat, and you frown, trying not to let too much emotion out as you speak. “I’ve never told him, nor my parents. I’ve wanted to, but.. I’m scared he won’t return my feelings, and.. He was born a commoner. People won’t approve of that.” Unconsciously, your gaze shifts away from Minho and turns towards Chan.

Minho notices, of course, and follows your gaze, seeing the way Chan is overtly staring at the pair of you dancing. Oh, he is in love with you, if the way he’s staring daggers into Minho is any indication. He almost wants to laugh at how oblivious you seem to be about it, but he also sympathizes.

He was there once– afraid to confess, afraid of what the reaction would be. And even now he’s still afraid of how his father will react if he ever confesses to his hidden relationship, so he’d be a hypocrite to tell you to not worry about it.

But at the very least, he can be on your side. He can be a friend, an encouraging presence, a person who understands what you are going through. “I think you should tell him how you feel. Even if things don’t turn out how you hope, at least you tried. I think that’s better than having never tried at all, and living with regrets.”

Honestly, he hopes you do confess your feelings, because he feels like he might burst into flames any second if your knight keeps staring at him with fire in his eyes. He’s so obvious, Minho isn’t sure how everyone else seems oblivious to it. But maybe he only recognizes that look in his eyes because he was there himself not too long ago, when others made advances on the person he loves most.

There’s a brief moment of silence as you contemplate Minho’s words. What is better? Accepting your fate as it is now and never telling a soul how you feel about Chan, or confessing your feelings and experiencing what it’s like to openly love Chan, only to have it ripped away from you when your family doesn’t approve? You really don’t know..

“Hey, if it doesn’t work out, maybe we do get married and act as each other’s cover,” he says jokingly, hoping it can make you feel comforted to some degree once he notices you being trapped in thought about what to do next. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you say with a small laugh, “Though if there is anyone I’d choose to be in a fake marriage with, it’d have to be you.”

Honestly, despite the unorthodox way it came to pass, it felt good to talk about your feelings for Chan. You didn’t have anyone to talk to about them, always keeping them completely to yourself. And you felt like you had a real friendship with Minho blossoming, one that could be maintained for years to come. “I enjoy your company. Platonically, of course,” you say with a smile.

“As do I, Princess,” he smiles back, “Want to cheer to a good friendship?” “Let’s!” You say enthusiastically, letting your dance come to a close and allowing him to lead you to toast refreshments.

If there was ever a time in Chan’s life he wishes he could disregard everything he’d ever been taught about rules and decency, it was now. He’s never felt so bitter in his entire life, the first time he’s ever felt spiteful at the unfairness of his situation.

“Thank you for talking to her, she looks to be enjoying herself much more now,” the queen says with delight as she leans towards Chan, ensuring that he hears her thanks. All it does is effectively rub salt into his open wound.

“..Yes, she does,” Chan says, having to put effort into sounding anything other than gutted. The jealousy sizzling in his veins, envious desire stuck like bile in his throat.

He knows you well enough to know what a genuine smile looks like on you. He recognizes your body language, can see all the minute and subtle changes. It makes him physically ill, watching you be so happy with a man he knows you are likely to marry. Chan knew he was selfish, but he never realized how jealous he was capable of being.

It was a luxury he didn’t realize he had– never having to see you in the arms of someone else. Sure, it was bound to happen, and he assumed he would be devastated when it inevitably occurred, but this? This all encompassing jealousy, this unadulterated greed– he doesn’t know how to process it, he doesn’t know how to calm himself down or mask it.

A realization zaps him suddenly, shocking his system as the feeling settles over him. He can’t let you go, he can’t put his feelings aside the way he thought he could. He’s not as strong as he thought he was, not as mature or as reasonable as he always thought himself to be. He can’t watch you be with someone else and be okay. If this is how he reacts to a situation so small, how will he feel when you actually marry?

He’s fucked. Truly, unequivocally fucked.

His body and mind scream at him to act, to do something, do anything, but what is there for him to try? What can he do that isn’t hopeless? No, even if it is hopeless, even if it doesn't change a single thing, he has to regardless. That’s what every nerve in his body screams at him– if there was ever a time for him to conjure his bravery and win you over, it was now.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the night's festivities finally draw to close, eager to finally relax after hours of dancing and talking. Minho made the night more bearable at least; it was much easier to get through the evening when you had a friend to cling to and keep a good deal of your other suitors at bay. As soon as you finished bidding your goodbyes to the guests that were in attendance, you rushed over to Chan so he could finally lead you back to the privacy of your room.

“Princess.. I’m sure you’re tired, but can you wait for me here for a bit..?” Chan asks, hoping the nerves he feels aren't being conveyed in his voice or facial expression. You tilt your head, slightly confused but agreeing anyways. You really have no reason not to after all, especially if it’s a request from Chan of all people. He smiles and thanks you, running off quickly while promising he wouldn’t take too long.

You stand in the center of the ballroom alone, wondering what on earth Chan is having you wait here for. He could also get in trouble for leaving you alone here without anyone to watch over you, but whatever he has planned must be worth the risk he’s taking.. Is he trying to make sure no one is going to come back so that the two of you can dance together?

The thought makes you excited if you're being honest– you always love dancing with Chan, but you hadn't had many opportunities to after he began training to be a knight. And you’d happily do so if he wanted to, even if your feet were screaming at you from exhaustion.

You also have to admit, you enjoy the idea that after watching you dance all day, Chan wanted to have one with you too, even if it had to be once the event was over and within privacy. You wait as patiently as you possibly can, watching the doors to the ballroom, eagerly waiting for them to open.

And when they do, and your eyes fall on Chan entering dressed in what is possibly the most beautiful suit you've ever seen, your heart feels like it's going to burst. "You stayed," he smiles as he steps closer, his dimples on full display. His unruly hair that normally falls over his face has been tamed enough to show his features more clearly, the full extent of his handsome face on display just for you.

“C-Chan, you– I, wow, you look–” You try to speak but you stumble over your words, his beauty leaving you even more speechless when viewed up close. It really is the most beautiful suit you've ever laid eyes on. Or maybe you only think so because he is the one wearing it? Either way, he looks so incredibly handsome that you feel almost dazed, your brain quickly malfunctioning as you stare at him.

Truthfully, he had to save his salary for months to afford a suit this nice. You lived in a world of extravagant gowns and beautiful jewelry, and he knew that if he ever got the chance to dance with you again, he wanted to look like he belonged with you– even if it was just this one time. You don't care about aesthetics, he knows that, but it's still something he wanted to do. Looking at him the way you are now, he knows it was all worth it.

He always wanted to belong in your world, to look like someone that a princess could be with. Soon enough, you’ll have to decide which of your suitors to marry, and on that day he will lose you. If this is the last opportunity he has to share a dance with you, then he wants to make the most of it. Even if it's just for this short moment, he'd like you to see him as something more than a friend or knight.

He wants to live in a bubble where it’s just you and him, where he can show you the side of himself he always wanted you to see. A bubble where only the two of you exist, where everything but each other is background noise. His every moment, all he sees is you, and he wants to be the only one you see in turn. No one in your eyes but him, his every word hanging in your ears and gesture embedding in your heart.

He will allow himself this final selfish act before he lets you go, before he has to bury his feelings and lock them away for good. He will dance with you not as your best friend, your knight, or your student who is still learning the steps, but as a man in love with his princess.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Chan asks, smiling up at you as he bows, holding out his hand to you. You feel like your brain is short circuiting, all dance etiquette and rules leaving your mind as you stare at him. Your face has turned bright pink and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, but you manage to nod and let your hand reach for his. How will you even survive this dance when he’s smiling at you like that while looking so devastatingly handsome?

Despite the glaring fact that all your knowledge is lost on you as he holds you closer, he leads you through your daze well. Humming melodies with his beautiful voice while he guides you through the steps– you feel like you’re in a dream. He’s looking at you so intently, smiling so charmingly between melodies, you feel like you’re melting. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion you’ve never seen on him before.

No, that’s not true. You have seen it. Fleetingly, in quick moments where it would flash on his features, a moment so small you’d miss it if you blinked. Moments like now, where it was just the two of you, free to be yourselves, to talk and laugh and dance with no restriction. Every time you noticed that look in his eyes, his expression would change in an instant, or he’d turn his face away and not let your eyes linger on it.

Affection? Care? Love? Is that the feeling that shows on his face when he looks at you? Is love the emotion that always makes him smile bashfully before he looks away from you? The one you sometimes catch, but is gone before you can really commit it to your memory? This is the first time you’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing it on his face for more than a few seconds, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

All you can do is stare as he leads you through the dance, the entirety of his being capturing your undivided attention. A shyness bubbles underneath the surface, neither of you used to staring at one another so overtly, but you couldn’t possibly turn your gazes away. You decide that if you did somehow fall asleep at some point and this is a dream, that you’ll enjoy it for all its worth.

You don’t know how he feels about you, really. At best you can guess, you can hope, but there’s no way for you to truly know. But what you do know is how you feel about him, and that’s enough, you think. It’s enough to make this moment the most special you’ve ever shared. It’s enough to lift up the shattered fragments of your heart and reconstruct them into something beautiful and new.

Does he love you as much as you love him? Regardless of the answer, you’ll never forget how you feel right now. A love beyond words, a happiness that transcends everything else.

Chan, who was feeling confident until now, begins to feel a stutter in his heart. He wanted to impress you, to show you the most ideal side of himself, to make you see him, really see him, in the way he desired to be seen. But now that you are looking at him with such ardor in your eyes, with his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck, he feels like his heart could burst.

Was he once again naive to think he could put his feelings to rest after this? Foolish to believe that this moment would be enough for him to part from you satisfied with what little he had?

Yes, he definitely was. Because the way you look at him now, he knows he can never go back to how things were before. He will want to see it again and again, paired with your sweet smile and cute mannerisms. Again, he realizes he's selfish. He doesn’t want you to look at anyone else this way, to give anyone else your affection, to smile at them the way you do at him. For better or worse, you’ll be there, in every thing he does and in every thought he has.

Most selfish of all, he wants to kiss you so badly, to claim you as his. He wants to pull you even closer, to feel your warmth against him, to tell you that you are all he ever has, and ever will see. It’s always been you that lights up his world, always been you that gives fire to his ambitions, always you that makes his heart race and palms clam up. Since he was a child, for as long as he can remember until now, you were his everything. You became his world, everything he does revolving around you, forever drawn to you.

Before he can stop himself, his lips are on yours, connecting with you in the way he’s always dreamed of. There’s no time for him to rationalize his choice or scold himself for giving in to his selfishness. Chan has always been weak when it comes to you, after all. Unconsciously, his hands hold you a bit tighter, though he himself is unsure whether that’s because he’s afraid to let you go or because it just feels right to have you in his grasp while he kisses you.

You blink in surprise, time feeling like it has slowed to a complete stop. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you, your brain desperately trying to catch up with reality and make sense of its own racing thoughts. When Chan pulls back, you can see a panic forming in his eyes, apologies lingering on his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have, I–”

You pull him back to you before he can continue to ramble, continuing the kiss he started. He can’t regret this, can’t second guess letting the moment take him over; you won’t let him. You want to be lost with him, enveloped in his embrace and consumed by his touch, damn the consequences. You don’t care who catches you, you don’t care about what punishment either of you could receive; this is all you’ve ever wanted for so, so long.

And maybe you should care, maybe you should stop him, stop yourself, but you refuse. If pushing him away is right, then you’d rather be wrong. His world may revolve around you, but yours revolves around him just as much. You can’t live without him, can’t bear to be apart from him. You want to stay with him, even if it causes everything else around you to crumble.

You’re both breathless by the time you separate, his eyes searching over your face desperately for any sign of hesitation, because once he really has you, he’s never letting you go. “Princess, Y/N, I–” He pauses, words lodged in his throat, but his eyes convey everything. You see it, the clearest that you ever have.

“Do you love me?” You ask, watching intently as his face heats up all the way to his ears. “Please tell me. I love you, and I need to hear you say you love me too,” you all but plead, watching him swallow as he tries to conjure the words he wants to say.

He kissed you, so he can’t really deny it, but admitting it could make life even more difficult for you. Chan knows you well enough to know you’ll fight against your parents wishes, that you’d abandon your life here if it called for it, but can he let you do that?

This is the last chance he has to listen to reason and walk away, his last chance to bury his emotions down deep, his last chance to use even just a modicum of self control.. But no, that's not what he wants to do.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. That’s all he’s ever been with you, and maybe all he ever will be. Because as much as he logically knows he should let you go, he just can’t. Because the thought of anyone other than him kissing you fills him with dread. Because even if it makes your reality harder, it’s still all he wants.

All along, his answer has been there. He can’t turn away from you, and you won’t let him. Both of you are stubborn in your wants, both of you pulling to each other like magnets, unable to be drawn apart. That’s what makes you perfect for him, he supposes.

You're both a pair of reckless fools, willing to throw everything away for the other person. How can his answer be any different, especially when you’re looking up at him like this? Desperate to hear his answer, desperate to be loved by him and him alone.

“I love you. I always have, from the very beginning,” Chan confesses, “I know it’s wrong, I know I’m not supposed to love you, and I’ve tried to hold it back but.. I can’t stand watching from the sidelines anymore, I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. I love you, and I want to be the one who spends his life with you.”

‘I’m not supposed to love you.’ You hate that he had that thought, but you understand why. No matter how close you became, even when he never treated you any differently from anyone else, he wasn’t oblivious to your difference in station. Neither of you ever let your circumstances affect your friendship, but that didn’t mean the difference between you wasn’t still there.

He recognized long ago that someone of his birth wasn’t meant to be with a princess, and he tried his best not to let his feelings for you show. You understood now too, why he became your knight despite all that it meant. Because he loved you, and that was the only way he could guarantee he would always be beside you. If he couldn't be your husband, that was the next best thing.

"If there is anyone in this world who deserves to marry me, it's you. It's always been you, I've never wanted anyone else," you say with full sincerity. There’s no one else you would ever pick, no one else you’d ever give your life to. No matter how much time passes, how your life changes and how far apart you may end up, the love you have for your best friend, your knight, will always remain.

He kisses you again, with all his love and affection poured into it. Years worth of repressed feelings bubbling to the surface like a wellspring. His self restraint dissolves, kissing you over and over again as if his life depends on the repetition of the action. He holds you tightly, squeezing you closely to him, in a gesture that is as full of desire as it is love.

You’re both breathless when he finally allows you to separate, lips swollen and red from the continued use. You lost track of time, having no idea how much or how little the minutes have passed. All you know is Chan’s all encompassing presence, and finally knowing the feeling of his lips against yours.

You don’t want the night to end here, you realize. You don’t want to return to your room and carry on tomorrow as if this never happened. You don’t want to pretend that you’re not impossibly in love with him, you don’t want to pretend you don’t know how his body feels pressed against yours, or how it feels to have his lips on you.

“Take me to your room, Channie,” you plead, and he swallows, your request making his heart race impossibly fast. The majority of knights live in barracks, but as a royal knight in charge of the princess’ protection, his room lies close to yours, separated only by a few halls.

But despite the relatively close proximity, you’ve never actually been to Chan’s room before due to the risk. Even with your friendship being apparent, going directly to his quarters and staying for a prolonged time ran the risk of spreading untoward rumors.

For royalty, their reputation is of the utmost importance, and while you didn’t care what people said behind your back, it was still something you had to be careful of for the sake of Chan himself. Even if you could easily recover from rumors, Chan wouldn’t be afforded that same luxury– it would undoubtedly follow him everywhere.

And this led to him often being in your room, using the pretense of his knighthood to enter your space and have private conversations and talk like friends, the way you did before he became your knight. But that was always during the daytime, and with other knights still standing out in the hall.

If those same knights saw him enter your room with you during the night, and not come back out until morning, it would certainly raise suspicions. Really, no matter what the two of you do tonight, there is risk, the probability of consequences you can’t come back from higher than it’s ever been.

“Are you sure..?” He asks, clearly worried about what could happen as a result. He wants to be with you, of course he does, but if it’s found out you stayed with him in his room for an entire night, the consequences wouldn’t be pretty. He needs to know you understand that, needs to know you want to be with him regardless of what could happen afterwards. You nod, resolve clear as you hold his hand tighter.

You were aware of the risks, but your love for him outweighed the concern. If anyone wanted to question you about being away from your room during the night, you had the confidence you needed now to fight for what you want. Now that you know he returns your feelings, you won’t let anyone get in the way of keeping you together, you’ll fight for it with all you have. And besides that, you're a princess. You were raised with the belief that the world was in the palm of your hands, so shouldn't you be allowed to have the things you want?

“I’ve thought about this a million times, Chan, I’m sure,” you tell him. Nothing will deter you from being with him– not anymore. “A million times, huh?” He teases with a smile as he pulls you along with him to exit the ballroom, his playful side coming back out as he leads you out to the hall and in the direction of his room. “Shut up,” you smile shyly as you slap his arm, a blush creeping across your face.

You have to suppress the giggle that threatens to leave you as you wind the halls together, a nostalgic sort of feeling welling in you despite this being the first time you are sneaking to his room like this. You snuck him into so many spaces, always sharing fond moments with him in secrecy, and really this is just an extension of that.

The roles may be reversed in this instance, but the way you hold each other's hand and smile at each other is the same. The way you speak in hushed voices, the way you contain your gleeful giggles and the way you look at each other with pure joy, it's all the same.

When you reach his room, he ushers you in the door first, following behind swiftly and locking the door behind himself. “Just a moment,” he speaks softly as he moves carefully past you, lighting the candles he has on his nightstand. You use the dim light to survey your surroundings (as much as is possible, anyways,) taking note of all the things that make his space different from yours.

Chan watches you with subtle amusement; his room really isn’t anything special, but you’re looking around it as if it’s the most interesting thing you could ever see. (And to be fair, it is a stark contrast from the luxurious space you’re used to living in.) His space, while decently sized, still pales in comparison to the size of your room. His furniture is much less exuberant in style, and bed significantly smaller than your own. But you like it better that way, you think– it feels homey.

There’s a moment of silence that follows, not necessarily awkward, but rather hesitant as you turn your attention back to Chan. He’s sitting on his bed, looking incredibly handsome even in the dim candle light. Or did that add to it? You aren’t really sure. All you really know is that the way the subtle illumination and shadows frame his face makes your stomach twist. He really is way too handsome for his own good.

Cautiously, you sit next to him, taking his appearance in more closely (despite the way it makes your heart feel like it’s going to implode.) He looks at you as well, taking you in just as attentively. Now that he can freely gaze at you without restriction, he wants to commit you to his memory. He wants to know your every blemish, every freckle and every line.

You’re so impossibly beautiful– you could appear to him covered in grime and wearing tattered rags and he’d still think you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Has he ever told you that? No, he doesn’t think he has. Every time he was awed by you, he’d look away before you could notice his blatant stare, never commenting outwardly on how incredible he thought you were.

“Can I kiss you again?” Chan asks tentatively, eyes full of eager trepidation. It may be beyond his capabilities to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he can show you. You nod, a small "yes" leaving your lips. His hands seek you out first, resting themselves on your waist before he kisses you again.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss, one that leaves you full of butterflies. All the romance novels you read couldn't have prepared you for how it actually feels to be in the moment, for how it feels to have his hands holding you firmly as he kisses you.

You want to move without restriction, you want to feel him closer, want to feel his touch on your bare skin. You separate, Chan watching you curiously as your face heats up in preparation for what you intend to ask. “Help me take off my dress?”

“W-What?” Chan stutters, bright red blush traveling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Did he hear you correctly? He’s certainly mistaken, right? “I-I mean, unless you think I should keep it on for the rest of the night..?”

“N-No, right, of course not,” he says, swallowing as he watches you rise from the bed. He follows, hands trembling as watches you turn your back to him, waiting for him to help you untie your corset. He reaches out slowly, untying it as carefully as he can despite his shaking hands.

The layers of your dress follow rather quickly after that, eager to get all the extra weight off your body and allow yourself to feel Chan's touch directly. It's not until you're at the final layer that you feel shyness creep back on you, Chan's hand stilling on your shoulders as his own nerves pick up as well.

When he pulls it down, you'll be strictly in your underwear, the most exposed you've ever been to a man in your entire life. But as much as it makes you shy, it excites you almost equally as much. You turn around now, so that your back is no longer facing him. You cross your arms, placing your hands on top of his, looking up at his face as you guide his hands down your arms, pulling your dress down along with it.

He swallows, eyes following the path your hands lead him on, his face easily the hottest it's ever been in his entire life. You lower your arms once you are no longer able to guide his hands, letting the last piece of fabric fall to the floor around your feet.

Fuck, he really should be looking at you respectfully, but it feels impossible. You are standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear, and you encouraged it, guided him to remove your clothing with your own hands. God, you're going to ruin him.

"Can I?" You ask as you rest your hands on his chest, the buttons of his suit easily within your reach, ready to undo them the moment he gives his approval. He does so easily, even helping you with the buttons and letting it fall to the floor the same way you did with your dress.

You watch as he pulls the undershirt over his head, tossing it to the floor with everything else. Your eyes scan his torso, face heating up as you take in his toned physique. You assumed he was strong given his status, but you've never actually seen the proof of it until now. You'd be embarrassed for blatantly staring if not for the fact that he'd done the same to you just moments ago. It's only fair to stare at him as much as he stares at you– tit for tat, if you will.

Chan's hands reach for his pants now, but he stops before he proceeds with removing them, looking at you as if to ask if it's okay with you before he does. Well, if the eager glint in your eye is anything to go by, you certainly want him to. He pulls them down easily after gaining your approval, kicking them off the rest of the way, (perhaps a bit unceremoniously, given the unprecedented circumstances,) not worrying at all about where they land.

You look at each other, an electric tension filling the space between you. The juxtaposition between the bashfulness and the desire leaving you temporarily stuck in place, a silent battle being waged between ‘should I act, or shouldn’t I?’

It’s typical for the man to make the first move in situations like this, isn’t it? But since when have you adhered to the stereotypical things that were expected of you? You hesitated before now out of fear– fear of what could happen to Chan and fear of your feelings being unrequited, but the minute he laid his feelings out for you, you decided there was no more time for fear, no time for hesitation.

When you want something, you get it, and what you want right now more than anything is Chan, simple as that. You lay back on his bed now as if you own it, looking so relaxed, so assured, as you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for him to return to your side. Fuck, do you even know what you're doing to him?

He slots himself between your legs, his body weight pressing down on you when he lowers himself to kiss you again. Your torso falls back against the bed when you lift your arms to hold his face in your hands, not letting the kiss break and dragging him back with you. His hands travel up and down your sides, always stopping just under the line of the fabric containing your breasts.

He pulls away from your lips, looking at you closely as he lets his thumbs under the fabric ever so slightly. He’s silently asking for permission again, you realize, searching your eyes for any semblance of hesitation or regret. There’s none to be found, of course– all you feel is desire, is love. You want this as badly as he does, undeniably so.

He pulls it up slowly, carefully, and you lift your back off the bed, allowing him to take it off you completely. You watch him swallow as he stares down at you, taking in the unfamiliar sight of your exposed chest. He’ll never admit how many times he envisioned this moment in his mind, but the reality is much better than anything his mind could have conjured up.

When Chan finally tears his eyes away to look at your face again, you offer him a smile, one that makes his heart stutter. It’s soft, yet completely radiant, and patient. There’s no need for you to rush him along, nor do you judge him for taking his time to look you over. When it’s something special, something you’ve both wanted for so long, with more intensity than you can express, why would you rush? It should be savored, with even the smallest of details committed to memory.

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you for what feels like the millionth time. His hands cup your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms for the first time, squeezing (gently, of course,) every so often. When the calloused pads of his thumbs rub over your nipples for the first time, and you let out the most sinfully sweet noise he’s ever heard, he’s done for.

He wants– no, needs, to hear it again. Again, and again, and again, all for him, only ever for him. The small, soft gasps, the shuddering breaths, the shiver that runs along the entirety of your body when he touches you– it’s addictive, so terribly addictive. “Channie–” you whine into his mouth, and he has to suppress the groan that threatens to leave his throat in response.

“Again,” he says as he begins to trail kisses beneath your ear and down the expanse of your neck, “Say my name again.” You oblige his request easily, each small whine turning into a soft moan of his name.

Your voice, so dovelike, its sweetness all encompassing, commandeering all his senses. His hands travel lower, rubbing over the plush territory of your thighs, his fingers always coming dangerously close to your center before being taken away.

He chuckles when you huff, a small pout on your lips that he finds adorable. He doesn’t mean to tease, but he has to admit he likes the reaction it grants him. “What’s wrong, darling? I didn’t think you were so impatient,” Chan says with an amused tilt in his voice, because at the end of the day, beneath all the shyness and desire that was at the forefront, he is still the playful person he’s always been.

“Don’t be mean, Channie,” you all but grumble, your pout growing larger. It’s not like you’re trying to rush anything, it’s just.. He knows what he's doing, and he’s doing it on purpose! Making you all needy for his touch, being so close to where you want him but not actually granting it to you.

He smiles, that dazzling one that makes your stomach twist, confirming that he does indeed know he’s tormenting you on purpose. “Apologies, my love. You’re just so cute when you pout.” You would definitely punch him if the statement didn’t make butterflies erupt in your gut. “Chan, please,” you shamelessly whine, and oh, how that instantly turns the tables back in your favor.

He’ll do anything for you, whatever you ask, everything he can offer, it’s yours. You realize that, don’t you? That even if he teases, even if he pretends he’s fine and not completely and utterly enamored by you, he can never actually resist you. “Tell me what you want, Princess. Anything you want, it’s yours. Anything.”

“I-I–” you start, but quickly stumble over your words. The way he’s looking at you, waiting with bated breath for your answer, eyes eager and so willing to give you his all– it sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, willing your racing heart to calm so you can speak properly. “I want.. To feel you. Inside me.”

Chan’s breath catches in his throat, cock twitching unceremoniously in response. He wants to, it’d be pointless to pretend he doesn’t, but.. “Are– are you sure?” he asks, the question laced with genuine care despite how eager he is for you to say yes. He wants to care for you, wants to make love to you, to claim you as his in the sweetest of ways, but he doesn’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.

Even if your confessions were a long time coming, even though there was years worth of yearning and desire, it’s still a lot to entrust yourself to someone like that. To trust them wholeheartedly, to grant them such pleasure and believe that they’ll take care of you in return.

And he needs to know that you understand the risks and the changes it will bring, and you aren’t saying it out of some spur of the moment obligation to please him. Because he’ll be happy, no matter how long he has to wait.

“Channie,” you place your hands on his face, forcing his eyes to stay locked on your own, “I love you so much. I want to do this with you.” You can feel his face heat up under your fingers, but he smiles– one that is shy, but at the same time full of unfiltered joy. Chan leans down to kiss you once more, showing you all the love and care that he can’t express with his words.

His hands resume their original path, tracing up and down your thighs for a few moments before he finally hooks his fingers into your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, not with the intent to tease you this time, but because he knows when he finally sees what is waiting for him underneath the fabric his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

You adjust your legs position to make the removal easier, watching Chan with nervous excitement. It is scary, you admit, being so exposed and vulnerable in front of someone else, but there is no one else in the world you trust more. No one but Chan makes you feel this safe and secure, and he’s shown you over and over how much love he carries for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he admits for the first time aloud. Would it be cliche to compare you to a goddess? Maybe, but that’s the only thing that comes even remotely close to conveying how alluring he thinks you are. More radiant than even Aphrodite herself, with even the wonders of the world paling in comparison to you. “Gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

You watch him bring his hands to his own underwear, slipping them off with relative ease before settling himself comfortably between your legs. “I need to get you ready, okay darling? And then I promise, I’ll give you everything you want,” Chan speaks softly and you nod, entrusting yourself to him completely.

He’s never done this before, so he follows his instinct, doing whatever feels right in the moment. His fingers rub carefully between your folds, spreading around the wetness that accumulated there. Your breathing halts when the pads of his fingers press against your hole, body tingling with overwhelming desire. Slowly, carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside.

The sensation is unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant– in fact, the back and forth motion of his finger as it slides in and out quickly begins to draw soft whimpers from your lips. Soon enough, he’s adding a second finger, watching how they disappear in you with an almost mystified gaze. He can’t believe how snug you feel around his fingers, how wet and warm and fuck, he can’t even begin to imagine how good it’s going to feel around his cock.

“Ah-!” you gasp loudly when, after some exploration, his fingers find a bundle of nerves that makes every nerve in your body erupt in pleasure. Your head falls back against his pillows, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the slew of loud noises that threaten to leave you everytime he rubs over it again.

His fingers pump in and out at a steady pace now, not too fast as to overwhelm you, but enough to have stars constantly erupting in your vision. Your hands tightly grip the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and knot tightening in your gut unbelievably fast. Chan’s name leaves your mouth over and over between breaths and whines, like a looped mantra, the salacious melody you create music to his ears.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud whimpers and moans that rip through you as you come undone on Chan’s fingers. Would it be sacrilegious to call your noises heavenly when the reason for them is so sinful? He wishes more than anything he could hear them unfiltered, to allow them to flow freely from your lips without a care in the world about the volume and who could hear them.

He slowly stills his fingers as you come down from your high, taking in the sight of you and memorizing every detail. The rise and fall of your chest as you catch your breath, the rosy tint of your cheeks, the beads of sweat that linger on your brow, all coming together to create an ethereal image.

Chan plants soft kisses on your face as he gently slides his fingers out of you, complimenting you on how pretty you sound and beautiful you look. "Channie–" you start, and he smiles, knowing exactly what you intend to whine about. "Don't worry, my love. I'll keep my promise."

He takes his fingers, still wet with your release, and rubs them up and down his length, mixing his pre-cum with it along the way. As you watch you realize that his cock is much bigger than his fingers, and you wonder how it'll fit when just two fingers alone already felt like so much.

“Are you ready?” Chan checks in with you when he’s lined up with your entrance, ready to stop at a moment's notice if you decide this is too much too soon. He can see the subtle worry beneath the anticipation, notices the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he presses against you. It's true, you are nervous, but not enough so to make you change your mind. So you nod, and he moves one of his hands to yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I'll go slow,” Chan assures you, placing a soft kiss on your temple before he begins. There’s a sharp intake of breath from you when he slowly begins to push inside, the sting being much more intense than you had anticipated. It goes beyond the discomfort you expected, eyes squeezing shut and your grip on his hand tightening.

The minute Chan feels you squeeze his hand tighter, he pauses just as promised. You open your eyes after a moment, looking up at Chan to try and push the sting to the back of your mind. He's breathing heavily, brows knit together in a combination of pleasure and concern, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

It takes all his self control to not get lost in the sensation around him, needing to make sure he takes care of you properly. He can't hurt you, can't lose himself before making sure you'll feel good too, needs to put you above all else.

"Do you need me to stop?" he asks, and you quickly shake your head no, expressing again how much you want to be connected with him in every way possible. Leaning down now, he kisses you until the discomfort subsides, whispering sweet words to you when he resumes the push, praising you over and over again until he's completely within you.

You're still squeezing his hand, not due to any pain or discomfort this time, but to ground yourself through the overwhelming sensation of Chan being deep inside you. He continues kissing you softly, going above and beyond to ensure that you're relaxed and comfortable. "Love you so much Channie," you tell him, and he smiles sweetly, heart so full of adoration and infatuation for you.

“Love you more,” he kisses you, ”so much,” another kiss, “never letting you go.” You giggle softly between his kisses, his words making your heart flutter. After graciously accepting a bit more of his doting, you soon notice that no trace of the initial sting or discomfort remains. In fact, being so full of him feels good, your body unconsciously seeking friction.

“Channie, I’m ready now, want you to move, please,” you beg with such a soft and cute voice, he knows there is no way he can resist. Well, not that he would ever deny you what you want in the first place. With one last kiss, and reassuring squeeze to your hand, he finally allows himself to move.

Slowly, as gently as he can, he pulls out, pressing back inside in one fluid motion when only the tip remains, repeating the action through shaky breaths and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Even with the languid pace, it's enough to drive him insane. Every detail of you, from the way you look, the way you sound, the way you feel wrapped around him, so snug and warm and inviting– it’s intoxicating.

Chan’s arms reach beneath you, hooking under your back and hands holding your shoulders, keeping your body closely pressed against his own. His face is buried in your neck, low groans beneath your ear, for you and you alone to hear. You make your own effort to keep him close as well; one hand tangling in his curly hair and the other tightly gripping his bicep.

He’s going slow, not just for your sake, but for his own. Because if he doesn’t he’s going to blow, because he wants to live in this moment for as long as he possibly can, because being close to you like this is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re his, finally his, and he wants it to last, wants to indulge in the feeling and the emotion of being your chosen lover.

It takes him a few tries to find the spot that makes you see stars with just his cock, but he knows he’s found it when you (unwittingly) let out a loud moan, nails digging into his skin and eyes rolling back. He picks up his pace now, chasing the sound of your pleasure-filled voice, wanting to hear you call his name over and over again.

He kisses you again when your combined noises begin to grow in pitch, muffling one another in a desperate attempt to keep the sounds of pleasure confined to the 4 walls of Chan’s room. You want to be quiet, you know you should be, but you truly can’t help it. But if he’s being honest, he likes that you can’t keep your voice down, likes that he’s making you feel so good that you can’t suppress it.

Chan is getting close now, and he pulls himself away from your lips, wanting to look at you once more before his approaching orgasm overtakes him. Even now, when you're breathless, cheeks red and hair sticking to your forehead due to the sweat, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

"Wanna cum in you," he manages to say between his low moans, “will you let me, please? Need to fill you up, need to make you mine forever, just like I'm yours."

Once again, your stomach flips, the words having an immense effect on you. "Y-Yes, yes, cum in me, I'm yours, only yours," you answer easily, wanting nothing more than to feel (and watch) him come apart because of you. His pace stutters following your permission, thrusts growing quick and sloppy as he chases his high, groans turning into drawn out whines.

The faster pace sends you reeling, toes curling has the knot in your stomach tightens and snaps in quick succession. You pull Chan back down to you, kissing him deeply as you cum around his cock, both to muffle yourself and as a gesture of the all consuming love you feel for him. He lets out soft, desperate whimpers as he releases inside you, ropes of cum painting your walls white.

You both stay like that for a few moments– breathlessly wrapped in one another's embrace, sharing soft kisses as you come down from your highs, soft admissions of love leaving your lips. You wince when Chan’s softening length pulls out of you, feeling extremely sensitive following the loss of your virginity.

Chan blows out the candles before he lays down next to you, leaving the moonlight coming through his window as the only illumination. He intended to pull you close to him, but he didn't have to– you snuggle up to him the moment you can, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his torso, legs tangling with his.

His racing heartbeat begins to slow, an extreme relaxation sweeping over his body. He closes his eyes, your soft breathing serving as his own personal lullaby. Carefully, he reaches his free arm out for his blanket, pulling it over to cover your nude bodies.

He’s nearly asleep when he hears you softly call his name, voice quiet but still loud and clear in his ears. “What is it, darling?” he asks as he opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at you. There’s a moment of silence that follows as you consider how best to voice what you want to say, but Chan is patient, looking at you with a soft gaze.

“Do you.. Think we can really get married?” You finally ask, and Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest when you do. He can hear the tremble in your voice so clearly, feels the way you hold him tighter as you wait for him to answer.

If he’s being truthful, he doesn’t know. It’s what he wants, what he hopes for more than words can express, but just doesn’t know. And it breaks his heart to see you like this– clearly vulnerable and unsure. You’ve always sought out Chan for comfort, but it’s different this time. Different because you now know the depths of love you both share, the desire to always be together and the fear that you’ll be driven apart.

You’ll fight for your love, of course you will, because there is no happiness to be had if Chan isn’t by your side. But you don’t want to have to fight for it, you don’t want either of you to suffer, you don’t want Chan to be driven away from you by people who don’t understand and don’t value him for who he is. You want your love to be accepted, to openly profess your love, to marry the only person you’ve ever had eyes for.

Tears are welling in your eyes, and he can see them even in the dim moonlight. “Y/N..” he uses his free arm to reach for your face, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall with his thumb. “I’m going to marry you. No matter what I have to do, I will,” Chan tells you, voice gentle but resolute. He meant it when he said he’s never letting you go, meant it when he said he’ll always be yours and always be beside you.

He doesn’t know what the future holds– if things will come easy for you both, or if you’ll have to fight tooth and nail just to be with each other. But he knows that no matter what the answer is, he will be with you. Whether in your toughest moments or happiest, he’ll be there. Holding your hand, giving you his love, sticking with you until the end of his days.

Whether it’s tomorrow, months, or even years from now, he’ll be your husband. You’ll be the one he shares his life with, the one he starts a family with, the one he sees every morning and every night. He’ll hold you close, starting your days with ‘I love you’s’ and ending them with the same, giving you all he has to give.

“No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together, okay? I love you so much,” Chan says and you nod, a soft smile on your face as you wipe your eyes and lay your head back down against him. “Love you, Channie.” He kisses your head softly, urging you to relax, to fall asleep, and not worry about what could be, but indulge in what is.

Indulge in the love you share, the feeling of closeness as you lie together in his bed, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and his gentle reassurances. He’ll still be here when you wake up, will keep you in his arms, holding you close and making sure you know how much he adores you, how much he loves you. Because no matter what the future brings, you still have this moment. You still have each other.

#skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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pmpmyread · 4 months ago

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Kneads Assessment

Content Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, fluff, praise/voice kink if you squint real hard.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader (established relationship) Summary: On the heels of a long and stressful week at work, Nanami proposed you assist him in baking some bread, as a means to decompress. And decompress you did. Word count: 2.4k

The sound of lashing rain rattled against the kitchen’s glass window, a manifestation of the relentless downpour that had been going on all afternoon. In the absence of the umbrella you’d lamentably forgotten at your office desk, you’d had the displeasure of witnessing the inclement conditions firsthand, having just made the trudge home from work and getting unceremoniously drenched from head to toe; an episode befitting the chaotic work week you’d just lived through.

Thankfully, a palpable shift in energy had welcomed you as soon as you’d crossed the threshold into the comfort that was your home, one that contrasted the harsh elements of the outside world in its warmth, its dryness, and, more importantly, the presence of Nanami Kento.

In a rare occasion that saw you two swapped in your usual circumstances, Nanami had exceptionally been able to peel himself from his work early ahead of the weekend, whereas you’d been stuck having to stay behind working on yet another late evening, a frequent occurrence since you took on this latest project.

You had called him to inform him of your lateness, and at the realization of the early evening you’d be missing out on, you’d set off on a small rant, during which you’d lamented the unfairness of life and entertained the idea of quitting on the spot; Nanami had chuckled at your hyperbolic reaction, responding by talking you off the ledge by proposing that you joined him in your first evening of homemade bread baking together in an effort to decompress.

And so, what felt like a lifetime later, after finally reaching your shared home, taking a much-needed warm shower, and changing into comfortable loungewear, you’d donned your apron and joined Nanami in your kitchen, which he had expertly transformed into an efficient working area, worthy of a professional bakery.

Kento's hands came into your view, snapping you out of your reverie, as he reached into a bowl at the center of the counter, dipping his hands into it to flour them. Your eyes followed his fingers as they traveled back to the dough he was handling, noting the dexterity and complete ease with which he worked it.

You reluctantly peeled your eyes away to refocus on your own dough. You had anticipated a struggle, seeing as this was your first time trying your hand at preparing bread from scratch. And yet, somehow, you had still managed to fall short of the amazingly low expectations you had set for yourself — even after what must have been at least ten minutes of continuous kneading, your dough, if you could call it that, still wouldn’t hold its shape. You took another furtive glance at Nanami’s; though you had both started the kneading process at around the same time, his looked significantly better than yours.

You pulled at a piece of the mix, which only eventually tore off after much struggle; you didn’t need to be a professional baker to realize that bread dough should not be this stiff and dry. You re-shaped your dough into a ball in an attempt to reset your process for what must have been the umpteenth time that evening.

Suddenly, you no longer saw a ball of dough, but a representation of every little grievance that had managed to get under your skin throughout the hectic week. Along with the last vestiges of the week’s frustrations that began to make a resurgence from the corner of your mind you’d discarded them to earlier, also came the sentiments of restlessness and impatience simmering just under your surface. Your movements grew more forceful in response, tension tightening every muscle down your spine, as you pushed harder into the stubborn dough.

Tears of frustration began prickling at the corner of your eyes, threatening to ruin the atmosphere Nanami had put so much effort into creating for you two that evening. You closed your eyes in an attempt to both conceal your agitation and to recenter yourself.

“I swear, I can’t seem to do anything right lately,” you finally muttered after a while. Your eyes reopened again but remained fixed on the dough you held, as though you were addressing it directly. “Is there an opposite to the Midas touch? Because it really feels like that’s what I have at the moment.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nanami replied.

“Kento, please, I’m pretty sure I’ve ruined your dough,” you said, poking at it repeatedly for emphasis.

You could now feel Nanami’s eyes on you. If he took notice of your disquiet, he didn't indicate as much and you didn’t dare face him to find out.

“An under-kneaded dough isn't something we can’t fix,” he finally stated.

“Under-kneaded? I’ve done nothing but knead for the past ten minutes…”

He set down his impeccable ball of dough in a container, covering it with its lid, before making his way to your side of the counter.

“Our objective in the kneading process is to develop the gluten structure, this requires a texture that can facilitate…”

You finally looked up to face your husband and found him examining your dough as he spoke as if explaining a diagnosis. His eyebrows were knitted in contemplation and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he embarked on the valiant quest of rescuing your dough from your destructive hands.

“…retaining gases for leavening…”

His soft hair, slightly tousled from the natural wear of the day, his charming face, which had a few speckles of flour sprinkled on it, and the matching apron that he wore, which was just barely large enough to cover the width of his expansive chest, were all aspects that could be deemed uncharacteristic of Nanami Kento to the unknowing eye; to you, they indicated that he was in his element.

And you loved watching him in his element.

“…darling, are you still with me?” You’d gotten lost in your admiration, Nanami’s slight head tilt, his question, and subsequent pause the only indicators that he was awaiting your feedback.

“Yeah, low hydration,” you parroted the last words you’d made out as you emerged from your contemplation, “so we should probably add water, yeah?” you ventured, feeling slightly guilty for having inadvertently tuned him out, all the while hoping that your contribution made sense for the context.

“Precisely, the doughs stayed out uncovered for a bit longer than usual, and yours got a bit thirsty, so it’s no fault of yours. Let’s increase the hydration content.”

He reached for your dough, setting it in front of him, before grabbing the squeeze bottle he’d been using to dispense water and emptying a few drops into it.

“Let me get it started for you.”

In one swift movement, he gently slapped the dough against the counter, generating a satisfying thud. He then folded it over itself and repeated the movement over again. He went on like this for about a minute, and you watched as the dough built up elasticity in real time, taking a sensible shape in Nanami’s skillful hands. By the time he finished working his magic, the dough was visibly no longer thirsty.

The same could not be said about you.

You were still mesmerized by the time he placed the dough back down in front of you with one final smack, before giving it a few rubs and pulling his hands away.

Your mind went blank for a few seconds, and you made the mistake of meeting his gaze, finding an unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s called the slap and fold method, it is best suited for high hydration mixtures. Now that we’ve made the correction, you can resume your kneading.”

“Thanks,” you finally managed to quietly articulate, desperately turning your attention back to your dough. To your delight, and thanks to Nanami’s adjustments, it was already significantly more malleable and easier to work with. By now, you expected him to return to his station. Instead, he remained where he stood, intently observing you.

You felt your face heat up at this realization, as you applied what you knew couldn’t possibly be within the vicinity of a correct technique, grabbing at the dough haphazardly without rhyme or reason, your distracted state compounding your clear lack of expertise in the matter.

Focus, pull yourself together.

A low chuckle emanated from Nanami as he reappeared in your peripheral vision. It was only once he spoke, in a tone that was both too low and too deep, that you realized just how closely he was.

“May I?”

“Yes.” You immediately replied, without even knowing what he was asking.

You shifted your weight from one leg to another, preparing to take a sidestep out of his way to let him take over.

You didn’t get far.

Nanami positioned himself behind you, placing his hands down on the table on either side of yours, confining you between his arms in the process.

You squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement.

“You’re doing well, let’s just make a few adjustments, alright?” Nanami’s sudden proximity had his words feel like they went straight into your left ear, his breath leaving a trail so warm that you swore it could have melted your eardrum.

It did not take long for his signature scent, lingering notes of his aftershave mixed with a clean soap aroma to overtake you. You were frozen in place and did not dare move, in case you made even further contact. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the dizzying feeling.

What the fuck is happening?

He spoke again, ever so softly, “Position yourself like this, so that you don’t tire so easy.”

He pressed his knee against your inner leg, gently nudging you into a slightly wider stance, pulling you at the waist to bring you snug against him, as you readjusted your balance. Your breath hitched at the sensation.

“Good, just like that.”

His voice came from your right side, this time, as he leaned over you to reach for the flour bowl that sat in the middle of your working area. Even through the layers formed by his shirt, his apron, and your own top, you felt the defined muscles of his chest mold against your back, the friction eliciting an uncontrolled sound out of you that landed somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

It was all too much.

The frustration that had plagued you minutes ago had all but evaporated, making room for a new titillating sensation, calibrating you to the charged air.

Nanami lifted the dough, lightly sprinkling some flour onto the surface area before setting it back down. He then took a small amount of flour between his fingers, rubbing the palms of his hands first together, then gently with yours, flouring them in the process. He took both your hands in his and guided them to your ball of dough.

“Use the heel of your palm to roll the dough away” he directed as he simultaneously demonstrated the movement. “Try to be light with your fingers as you fold it back on itself and avoid using too much force. This will help maximize your impact.”

You could easily listen to the sorcerer narrate the dictionary and still get lost in his voice. But something particular about the combination of his touch, the delivery of his commentary, and the kneading action you were engaged in; something about the way you felt the dough finally take a sensible shape beneath your guided hands which had long disappeared beneath his, had ignited a warm, all too familiar feeling rising within you.

The sound of the rain battering against the window was no match for your rousing pulse, which served as the metronome for the rhythm you were building up to, as you chased the momentum and worked your way towards achieving a state of flow.

“That’s it, darling, you’re a natural.”

This time, the sound that you tried and failed to disguise as a nervous laugh came out without warning, even breathier than the previous one.

You tensed at the realization of just how far gone you were and how you were barely holding it together, causing you to hitch in your movement. You were a mess, gently sliding out of control, sensing the edge of the cliff, a seemingly diametrical opposition to Nanami’s cool and controlled demeanor.

He must have felt you tense up because as if on cue, he spoke again, gently as ever.

“Try to relax your shoulders,” he instructed.

It was a direction you followed perhaps a bit too well, as you leaned back into Kento with a long exhale, surrendering yourself to the moment, now more than willing to relinquish the trace amount of control you had remaining in your possession.

Until you caught it.

Leaning back into Nanami’s chest and tilting your head up had finally granted you a direct sight line to his face and to the subtle cues you’d grown to recognize over time, like the trademark vein that would form at the corner of his right temple whenever he was slowly teetering on the brink of his tightly held control.

He was just as riled up as you were.

Your halted movement alerted him to your realization. You studied his face closely, witnessing him take what he’d no doubt thought would be a surreptitious peek down at you through one eye as he met your gaze, a mischievous expression slowly creeping up his face.

“This dough feels ready now, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him in response.

He continued, “Good job, I knew you could do it,” his voice betrayed the slightest hint of his barely noticeable faltering.

But you did catch it.

With that, you found your opening; galvanized by your new read on the situation, under his moldering stare, you mustered up the bit of resolve you required to take advantage of his loosened grip, rotating halfway to face him and snaking your arms around his waist, in a swift move that didn’t quite flip the tables but definitely gave you a fighting chance.

“You are so done,” you declared.

“Do you mean the dough is done, sweetheart?” he contended.

“Done teaching you? Yes, I would agree. I think we’ve cleared this lesson,” he said, tongue firmly ensconced in cheek, as he tried to back away in a mock effort to escape.

“As in you’re done teasing me,” you warned as you followed him, inching closer to maintain your proximity.

“Am I not allowed to carry love for a job well done? Surely I did help you decompress somewhat though, right?” he inquired, his tone laced with suggestiveness as he subtly took another step back.

“I don’t know about that,” you caught him by the waist strap of his apron before he could put more distance between you, playfully pulling him back against you. “Why don’t you come back here and finish what you’ve started, baker boy.”

Thanks for reading 🩵

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fxtalitygod · 8 days ago

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EPILOGUE. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy mentions, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), implied incest mentions

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Today marks the day I finish this series. Guys, I cannot believe it took me two years to finish this damned series. Do not get me wrong, I loved writing it, but boy, it was a major pain in my ass. As corny as it sounds, thank you all for sticking with me throughout this series. When I originally posted the first chapter, I did not expect ANY attention whatsoever; it was just a self-indulgent thing I wanted to write because I wanted a better representation of (Y/n) where, yeah, she may not be the strongest. However, she still knows how to make do with what she has and make that her strength. I also wanted to give a more realistic relationship with the pairing. As much as I love Sukuna's character, I did not believe him to be a character capable of "true love" but a character that values others but not in the way you might think. I'm talking literal value, currency value, and benefit value. I wanted a more realistic take on the story because I did not know how many more historical "Kuna," "Suku," or "Kunie" stories I could take. No hate for those who write it or those who enjoy it; it just isn't my personal cup of tea. I like true crime and dark stories (I have this serial killer project that I'm stoked about because I know I will get my group an A+), so I tend to enjoy those darker sides, which I believe is why I like Sukuna's character so much, he just feeds into that side of me. There are some of the fantasies I enjoy where Sukuna is non-canon, such as AUs and all that, but when it comes to JJK's storyline or his historical AUs, I tend to fall short of enjoyment of that type of fantasy.

Anywho, thank you all for sticking around and enjoy the epilogue. I hope it was worth the wait. I may or may not have written three times because my perfectionism kicked in every time I proofread it, and I found something I did not like and scraped half the chapter. I bet I'll find a little thing here and there when I post this. Still, it won't be anything noticeable, something along the lines of my tags and probably my TW, though Im usually very on point with those kinds of things. Still, it always seems that AFTER I make the post, I really start to notice things even after proofreading it 50x.

P.S. I plan to do a behind-the-scenes post on all my original ideas. I have worked on this little project for two years, so you bet I had alternatives. Feel free to send me asks or messages asking me about things you are curious about, and I will gladly answer.

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

The market was bustling at this time of day. Workers were heading home from a hard day of work, rushing through the roads as they grabbed ingredients and materials for their households to prepare their meals and homes; everything was so normal...and if she were being honest, it felt strange. The confined life of the temple had practically become a comfort, so when presented with a slice of normalcy, it was foreign and, if she were being honest, alarming as well.

Having so much freedom was intimidating and overwhelming– the fear of having something good and it being taken away was a looming thought that brought many anxieties.

Years have passed since that fated day, Sukuna Ryomen's downfall. Since the fire and the slaughter that had immersed, Sukuna's actions had remained silent. There were whispers of sightings and rumors that the curse user had met his demise, but she knew better. Sukuna Ryomen was unkillable, and if anybody had truly caught a glance of him, they would be dead before they could live and tell the tale.

"Mama."

The world seemed to stop as the word processed through her head. Blood ran cold, and breaths of air seemed to come in at a faster rate. The woman turned to the little girl holding her hand, causing her heart to shatter.

"Darling, I told you not to refer to me as your mother, remember?"

The question remained as a statement rather than an inquiry as if refamiliarizing the child with a rule she had been reacquainted with on multiple occasions.

"I-I know that, but why can I not? You care for me like a mother, so why can I not call you my mother?'

"We have discussed this before, child," the woman sighed, "I believe it unfair to be taking the title of your actual mother."

"Well, if my real mother had not given me away, it would not be like this..."

Pausing mid-step, the caretaker held her breath, controlling the emotions and memories that flashed through her mind. The girl's sentence rang through her head, eliciting a feeling she was not commonly met with... aggravation. With no hesitance, the woman's minimal steps turned into longer strides, her grip even firmer on the young girl's hand. Getting to their place of lodging was more vital than anything, as she wanted to avoid discussing such sensitive matters in a public setting. Prying ears were close enough in such a crowded setting.

Upon reaching the home, the stand-in mother pulled the child inside before shutting the door. She swiftly bent down to the young one's level and took the child's shoulders into her hands. The little girl was shocked by the woman's reaction, staying silent and still as if afraid of what was to come next.

"Child, I will not hear you speak such false claims of your mother. You do not know the sacrifices she made to get you here."

The girl's expression of fear shifted from dread to shame. Her face was red from embarrassment after she was caught for her prior statement. However, as children do, she made it her goal to justify herself.

"What is the point of her sacrifice if she left me. Did she not want to be around me?"

"She did not leave you; if she were still in this world, trust me, she would be right here with you!"

The caregiver's words came out with little thought; all she knew was that she would not tolerate the little girl's false assumptions. However, now that the words spilled out of her mouth, she began to regret them. Seeing the tears well up in the girl's eyes made her wish she had phrased it differently.

"What do you mean?"

The caretaker cursed under her breath before inhaling through her nose, exhaling softly before speaking.

"You deserve the truth, my dear, and the truth is that your mother sacrificed her life to ensure you had a good one. She loved you so much that she valued your life more than hers. You might not understand this now, but that is a mother's love." The woman's breath stuttered, "She loved you more than you could ever know. I will not claim the title as your mother for that reason."

The girl was overwhelmed with emotion, only knowing how to express it through tears. The woman could not bear it and brought the girl close to her chest, embracing her to give any form of comfort that might help– it broke her heart to hear the child's quiet sobs.

After calming down, the kid spoke, though with some light chokes.

"W-what s-should I call you then?"

The warden took a sigh as she thought over her charges question. In all honesty, she had no idea what to say. What answer could she even give her? She could not allow her real name to float between the child's tongue as it would expose her identity. What name could she let the child speak?

"Hmm," the woman loosened her embrace, looking the little girl in the eye with a soft smile, "What do you think you should call me?"

The girl tilted her head, wanting more elaboration.

The lady chuckled softly, "What do you think my name should be, child?"

The caregiver had expected the girl to take some time to come up with an answer; however, the kid took no hesitation when she blurted out...

"Makato-san!"

Silenced engulfed the home as her caregiver failed to respond.

"Makato-san, I'm going to the market. Do you need anything?"

Another prolonged stillness as the young lady waited for a response.

The girl scrunched her brows in concern, extending her neck to look further into the room as if the individual she was looking for would appear. With the growing silence, the young adult searched the home for her guardian.

"Makato-san?"

She searched and examined the silent home with slight panic before finally stumbling upon the older woman, staring blankly at the floor she was kneeling on– unresponsive as she continued to stare.

With caution, Y/n's daughter reached her hand out to her caregiver's, placing it on the woman's shoulder. The response she got was one she had not expected.

The Makato turned suddenly, grabbing onto the young woman's wrist with an ungodly strength that even the girl was unaware of. This caused the girl to wince in pain as she tried to pull her arm away. Her arm was turning a light purple from the lack of circulation, proving the grip's vice.

Despite her fear, the charge could only feel concerned as her caregiver made eye contact, tears welling up in her eyes. It stayed like that for a couple more seconds before she snapped back into reality, gasping as she was presented with the image of her actions, quickly letting go of the young lady's arm.

"I'm so sorry, my Dear. I did not mean to...I was just..." The woman paused, swallowing her following words; however, her stutter did not disappear: "D-D-Did you need something, m-my, Dear?"

"I was preparing to leave and was going to ask if you needed anything from that market," the girl paused, choosing her next words carefully. Makato-san, you've been acting strange as of late. Is everything alright?"

The young woman was old enough to recognize the hesitance in her caretaker's features and the short lack of response.

"Whatever do you mean, Darling?"

"Please do not take me a fool," the youthful female voiced before sighing and looking at Makato in pity, "I'm worried for you, Makato-san. Ever since the refugees from the other village came, you have been behaving irregularly."

The refugees.

To say that their arrival was a shock was an understatement. At first, Makato thought nothing of it until the newcomers began to tell their stories. Their village was burned in a monstrous fire by a "crazed" sorcerer, and their home was now unsustainable to live in as it was left entirely in shambles. Despite this information, Makato thought little of it as there had been few stories of criminal sorcerers destroying homes, most being "inspired" by Sukuna's actions after his sudden hiatus. It was not until an elderly woman, who she happened to hear at random, described the appearance of the sorcerer.

"He was monstrous, the vile thing; he had four arms and two faces if you do not count that horrid mouth on his stomach. I watched both of them grin as it chewed on the remains of my eldest son." the elder choked and sobbed as the memory came back to taunt her.

Makato's heart dropped to her stomach. Rushing home in search of her charge, she found the girl working on her studies. Seeing the child she worked so hard to raise brought relief, but it was not long before the memories and visions began to haunt her. Sometimes, she would see you standing there, looking down at her, motionless and silent, with a pained, pitful look.

She hated it.

When you looked at her that way, she felt weak and vulnerable—as if she were failing. She was not as cool and calculating as you were, nor as confident or intimidating. Had you been here, you would have more than likely been able to disappear from society and find a nice, quiet life for yourself and your daughter. But you were not here; that was the problem– you were just a figment of her imagination.

Even then, she wanted you to stop looking at her that way.

Sometimes, she was left in her privacy and saw your vision appear to accompany her. It would drive her mad as she tried to convince you, even herself, that she was doing enough. She would speak into the silence of the room and get no response.

"What else could you want with me? I am doing everything I can!"

Silence.

"I am happy. She is happy. We are happy. Is that not enough for you?"

Silence.

"He thinks she is dead– he thinks I am dead! There is no possible way that..."

Silence.

"Please, stop looking at me that way. I am capable of doing this...please have faith in me."

"Makato-san?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Makato tracked what the girl had said earlier, not wanting to worry about her charge further.

"I apologize for my irregular behavior, my Dear. I can assure you that I am alright. I have had a lot of stress these days regarding the refugees. I want to do my part to assist them, but I have been running myself ragged and am just...tired."

The girl hesitated, not wanting to accept her caretaker's excuse, but she knew pushing the subject would not do her any good, so she nodded in understanding. The worst part is that Makato knew your daughter was aware of her white lie, but she would not admit it for some slim hope that the girl honestly did not know. Sometimes, she wished your daughter had not inherited your intelligence and perception.

"Do you need anything from the market, Makato-san? I plan on leaving soon to aid the refugees."

"No, I believe we have enough supplied for quite a while. All that I ask of you is to be safe, Darling."

Your daughter agreed, letting a soft smile slip onto her face before hugging Makato. The woman accepted the embrace before experiencing a wave of realization. Intelligence and perception were not the only things she inherited from you; she happened to be a real beauty as well.

"My Dear, if you plan on seeing that boy of yours, speak your peace now and know that I only want you to be safe and happy."

The girl struggled to find words before lowering her head in embarrassment, her face bright red with fluster.

"You are of age now, and I want you to know the responsibilities that rest on your shoulders."

"Makato-san, I never meant to keep it a secret. I just...I was afraid of your disapproval."

The more experienced woman could understand where she was coming from. Long ago, she was in the girl's position. However, she was never allowed to pursue her love due to the circumstances of her arrangement, but that does not mean she did not try. Despite her efforts to keep her relationship together, it was all for not in the end. She was given away as a sacrificial lamb to a monster.

Your daughter had a chance of love, and the caregiver would not squander it for her. She wanted your daughter to have a chance at a relationship she never had. Maybe it was questionable on her part due to the circumstances of her mission, but she did not entirely care. She just wanted your daughter to have a normal life.

She knew that was what you had wanted for your child.

"I do not disapprove, Darling. I just want you to be happy and to be careful."

"I promise that I will Makato-san."

There was a pause of awkward silence before the young woman embraced Makato once more.

"Thank you, I'll be back soon."

Makato smiled as she watched her ward leave the home. She had no problem admitting she was happy for the girl, but something deep within her told her it was a bad idea. It was hard for her to come to terms with, but she had an itching feeling that did not settle with her.

The world was perfect at the moment. Your daughter had put smiles on faces from her charity and was now being rewarded with a proposal for her marriage. She hugged her lover, showing her love and adoration in any way appropriate for their stage in relationship. If you were here, you would be beaming with joy, giving consent to the marriage with no hesitation because this is all you could ever want for your girl, and it would have been all you wanted for your twins.

You never had a chance of love and a happy life; seeing your children be able to pursue their lives to the fullest, especially in romantics, would have been considered a blessing to you.

"This is the happiest day of my life, honestly, but have you received my guardian's blessing?"

The young man chuckled, caressing her cheek reassuringly, "I plan on coming over for dinner tonight to ask for your hand properly if you will have me."

The girl could only agree eagerly through her expressions, unable to speak in fear of shouting instead of politely inviting him. Hugging him one last time before parting to rush home and prepare their meal; however, a chill went up her spine the moment she left; everything felt cold, and she could not explain why. Maybe it was the lack of his embrace, but she had never felt that way. There was only one good reason she could name.

Her nerves were getting the best of her...

"What if Makato-san declines."

The young woman's moods changed throughout the day as she prepared for the most significant evening of her life. One moment, she had the goofiest, filled with overwhelming joy, but there were other times when she would find herself chewing her nails from anxiety, and right now, she was having one of those times.

"Dear, stop that. This behavior is far from healthy. What has you behaving this way?"

"Nothing, everything is fine. I suppose I'm just hoping dinner will turn out acceptable tonight."

"Dear, please do not insult my intelligence with these excuses. What is going on that you are not telling me?"

"Well, I—" there was a pause. How was the ward supposed to say anything without giving anything away?

"You what? Spit it out, child, you are worrying me."

"I cannot say. I am sorry. But do not worry, please; something good is about to happen. Please trust me on this."

Makato chewed the inside of her cheek. She did trust her ward, but she had this gut feeling, this sickening feeling that she could not name. Maybe it was just her nerves getting the best of her, so she pushed it aside. She trusted your daughter, the only trustworthy person that Makato knew.

"Alright... is there anything you need help with?

The younger one smiled sweetly, taking her caretaker's hands in her own.

"No, I have it handled. You have been so stressed the past few days that you should just relax. Tonight, all your worries will be washed away." With that, she parted to continue her work for the big news. She was all but too excited.

She was also naive.

She was a sweet little girl, but she was naive. To think all of Makato's worries and problems would go away by simply relaxing, through sweet and simple gestures, was an innocent way to think. It was how Makato raised that girl because she wanted that sweet little girl to have that luxury. There were times she wondered if she had made the right choice, but then she would remember what pain looked like and what too much experience could do to a person.

No, she made the right decision. This is what you would have wanted.

Right?

Yes.

Makato went, and she sat as the young woman finished her final preparations for the meal. The girl looked more stressed than ever, rushing at the final threshold, but it seemed that preparations were finished and she was filling time. She found little things to do that held no significance. She was in her head, making Makato question if everything was truly fine.

Then, the footsteps could be heard. He was here, and everything was going to change. Life was going to change, and it was between her and that door. The biggest day of her life was only a dinner conversation away. So she opened the door and was presented with an image she thought she would never see or experience.

"We must leave. The village is under attack, and we do not have much time."

The smell of smoke was strong, and embers could be seen from a not-to0-far distance. The world came crashing down, and she could not say a thing. She could only stand there with an oblivious smile.

"What?"

Fear, confusion, anger, any negative emotion she could feel, she was feeling. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to get a blessing and marry the man of her dreams. Why now? Why this? This could not be real, there was no way.

If the world had crashed down for your daughter, the heavens collided into the earth, dissipating everything in its path in Makato's eyes. The older woman stood, no thoughts running in her head as she strided to the boy, grabbing him by his garments

"You tell me now, and you tell me true, boy! What did you see?!"

Her sudden actions left him too stunned to speak, but after some shaking and calling for his attention, he found himself capable of a response.

"Makato-san, what is happening?" It was like everything hit her at once, but she was still trying to understand why it was happening today– why it was happening now at the most crucial moment of her life.

"I do not know what it was, but it was a man of stature. He was disfigured; he had two faces and four arms. He came without warning, started flames, and began a massacre. His face was cold, as if he felt absolutely nothing."

There was no doubt in her mind that it was him, no doubt her former husband as reigning terror; however, based on the emotionless state of his ambush, bloodshed was beginning to lose its flavor. It was comical, but as much as it had some humor, this was no joke. This was all too real.

Makato grabbed your daughter's shoulder, pulling her out of her shock. Tears were in her eyes, looking at her caretaker pitifully.

"Makato-san, what is happening?"

She was naive, and being naive was safe, but being naive was also unrealistic. Makato gave the girl a sheltered life, eliminating the possibility of danger to the girl. That was no way to live.

"Your father, that is what is happening."

"What?"

And the shock returned. Makato made an effort to avoid mentioning Sukuna in conversation, only mentioning you in light memory. As far as your daughter was concerned, her father did not exist...until now.

"That so-called man is your father, Ryomen Sukuna. That is the man who drove your mother to eventually kill herself," A pause, licking her lip as she readied herself to elaborate, "Your mother sacrificed herself to protect you from him. He drained the life from her and left her no choice but to die, but she gave it purpose. She died to give you a life, a life away from him."

"I-" Your daughter was at a loss for words. Everything was hitting her too fast.

"I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. I wanted you to have an everyday life, but I should have noticed sooner or later that the truth would reveal itself and that he would present himself one day."

There was nothing to say, only to exchange expressions of fear and dismay.

"W-Well, what do we do now?"

"We run."

Taking the two charges, Makato grabbed whatever necessities they needed to start a new life. She had been planning this since the day she ran from the temple. She would admit that now, with a third party, it would be more complicated than she had intended, but they would make do.

They exited the home frantic. The smell of smoke became more potent, and the embers were closer than before. The flames became more evident as they spread. Any entrance to the main road would have been a route to death, but Makato had never planned to use that path. There was a back trail through the woods, one she had discovered when your little girl was merely five years of age.

They ran towards the thicket, avoiding as many obstacles as possible. Things were looking smooth, with hardly any disruptions. It was almost serene, but that was the issue. To have such tranquility was a nauseating notion for mayhem being at their backs.

It was too quiet to be safe.

And that is when she knew to push the girl and her lover aside, veiling their presence with her technique before everything went black.

Ringing...

And more ringing...

The lights were brighter, and the smoke and ash came straight from the source. She woke up coughing and gasping for air. For a moment, she thought she had been dreaming, immersed in a life that was not hers. Maybe she was waking up, back to her village, back to her parents, back to the life before she got caught in that awful nightmare.

"I am surprised that it was you, of all the women she let live." Sukuna started, looking down at what he believed to be the scum of the earth.

No, it was all too real. His voice registered through her head instantly despite not hearing it in years– at least in person. She had repeated memories, but sometimes she wondered if she had deformed his voice from years of not hearing him speak down on her. Turns out she remembered it accurately. It still managed to send chills down her spine and make her wish to be six feet under the ground.

"I was probably too forgettable for her to ever really care about whether I lived or died." Makato spat.

"That is reasonable enough, but that would not serve her memory well and rather insult her intelligence. I will say that, if anything, my Little Flower was too clever to let such technicality slip from her. She probably pitied you and your fruitless womb, so she gifted you with a child for you to care for in her absence. And knowing your broken state, she probably knew you would be eager at the opportunity."

Makato scowled, turning her gaze to the ground. How dare he speak of you in such a way. He said that as if you were on his level, as devious and conniving as he was, and claimed your actions were selfish when they were the opposite. You did this for her daughter, not for yourself. If you had it your way, you would be there.

"How old is she now?"

She refused to answer, turning her gaze back to the dirt. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of belittling her more than he already had. It was humiliating, but she still had some dignity and a promise she wished to uphold.

"What does it matter? She is dead. (Y/n) told you herself that she was gone."

A sharp pain was felt at the back of her head as he pulled her hair to force the woman to look up at him.

"Do not picture me a fool! For a woman whose last words claimed her daughter was gone, she left me the most humorous smile. I know that age of the girl, but I would rather hear from you, bitch, how long you have been holding her captive."

No response.

"Answer me!" Sukuna snarled, pulling at her scalp once more.

"Nineteen years of age," Makato smiled. Why? Do you wish to act as a father now? Well, you are too LATE! While you were out throwing tantrums, I raised her child, which you would not know how to do without being given exact handwritten instructions."

"On the contrary, you let her potential slip, and now she is nothing but another womb to breed. Unfortunate, due to the heritage of her mother and myself. However, a womb is still useful regardless."

Out of anything Sukuna had done, out of anything he had said to threaten her, that was the most horrifying.

"You are a disgusting bastard."

"Do not speak as if you can fill her shoes as if you have her confidence. You would not be in this position if you were half the woman she was."

"You are right; if I were half the woman she was, I could have easily manipulated you and have you play the role of the arrogant man with an ego so big, he does not notice the knife pointing at his back," A pause as she licked her lips, swallowing to try and quench her dry throat, "Everything that woman did was out of fear, much like everyone else; however, she knew how to tick your interest and she used that to her advantage. Honestly, I am ashamed. I only noticed it when she told me about her plan."

A twitch in his eye, he was irritated. It was known through body language and the knowledge of his nature that he wanted to tear Makato apart, limb from limb, until her body was unrecognizable.

"What? Afraid to face the truth of her decision. She could have run away with ease; she could have killed you, but both of those options would have been considered a mercy for you. She took away the one thing that you valued: herself. That must eat at you a lot."

With a swift motion, he scooped the former wife from her neck, squeezing her throat as he raised her to face him eye-to-eye.

"You are a worthless bitch who cannot even reproduce, summing you up to nothing. What is your worth?"

Nothing but the struggling breaths of the woman attempting to pry herself from this monster's grip.

"Exactly, you are worth nothing."

Darkness, wherever they were, was dark. The girl and her lover were still in the woods, alive as well as they could manage. She could only remember running into this place before being shoved into the dark area. She felt the ground around her and reached her arms out into the pitch black as she tried to navigate this strange place. It scared her.

"Makato-san? Where are you?"

No response, only silence.

It was dark and frightening, and she did not know what to do. What could she do? She could cry, so she did; she cried as she tried to find her way back. This had to be some kind of night terror. She would wake up, and she would be at that doorway, welcoming her lover into their home, eating their meal, and then sharing the news. Her lover would get her caretaker's blessing, get married, and live happily ever after, right?

Dreadfully wrong.

Instead, a hand reached out and pulled her out of the darkness. The world was still unlit, but moonlight and the flames dancing in the distance could be seen nearby; however, she was not a part of the conflict.

She was about to scream, cry for help, anything to get attention drawn to her location, but was stopped by a large palm to the mouth.

"Shhh, my love. It is only me. It will be alright."

For the first time that night, she felt genuine relief. Turning her head to see her man, she looked down at her disheveled features. She weakly smiled, moving herself to embrace him. It all lasted for a few seconds until she realized the missing member of their little group.

"Where is Makato-san?" she whispered.

The man looked down, not daring to respond. She attempted to make eye contact, but he would only look away.

"Where is she?" she insistently asked, but louder.

" I do not know; a couple curse users emerged from the woods. Makato shoved us into the ditch, and when I came out, she was gone."

"Well...Well, we must go look for her."

A grasp to the wrist effectively stopped the girl.

"No, I cannot risk losing you, and I know Makato-san would agree. She would not want you going out to risk your life to save her."

How could he say that? How dare he say that! What right did he have in this decision?

"Then you do not know her." she scowled, trying to withdraw from his hold, but his hand did not budge.

"Then why would she tell you everything had she not already predicted the possibility that she might die."

"Because... because...she needed me to know because if we were going to run away, I would need to put in my own weight by knowing our threat...yes, that was it! Now let me go!" She tried to reason, but not to him—herself.

Denial.

"It was a confession! As if she were lying on her deathbed, she confessed everything to you. She wants you to move on, knowing there are dangers like your father. She wants you to kno-"

"Well, she may not be dead yet, so we have to try!"

With whatever strength she had deep down, she broke free from his grasp, sprinting towards the village and the flame. She could hear him following her, but in her mind, she wanted to believe he was doing it because he could see her reason. He would help; she was sure of it.

She was almost there, and she swore she could see the silhouette of her caretaker, but then she found herself on the ground. It was only for a second before being lifted into the air, a hand covering her mouth as she got further from her destination.

Kicking, muffled screams, and the distant cackling of flames could be heard. She bit her partner’s hand in an attempt that he would let her go from the sudden pain, but he was resistant. He merely grunted and winced while continuing his journey back. But then there was a halt.

There she was, Makato, thrown onto the ground. She could see her in the distance. The woman looked weak but very much alive, and she was right there. The daughter kicked, shoved, jabbed, and bit even more, trying to get loose. However, her lover would not budge because although he could see Makato, he could also see the shadow hovering over the woman, the shadow your daughter was refusing to look at.

Then the shadow disappeared, and the dreadful monster emerged, Sukuna Ryomen, hovering over Makato with disdain. Watching as she tried to crawl away but failed miserably. She was fighting, doing her best, but her fate was inevitable.

Death was the only option, and death is what she got.

Ryomen Sukuna caved into his impulses, ripping her limb from limb until she was unrecognizable. The daughter watched, horrified, as the woman who raised her was mutilated to nothing but a pulp. What sort of sick joke was this? She remained silent as she tried to think of who would pull such a childish trick, watching as the image got smaller until nothing was left. Eventually, it was just a tiny yellow dot in the distance and nothing more; all she could do was look at it.

"Promise me you will live."

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe o-

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream echoed through the dark room, and you tried to comprehend where you were. The walls were closing in, and the air was too thick to breathe. It felt like like suffocation.

What was this?

Why now?

Where is this?

Why is this?

How is-

"Y/n!"

You snapped back into reality, frantically looking at your surroundings to notice you were in your bedroom.

"Y/n, what happened? Are you okay?"

The silence was tense as you sat there, trying to remember your nightmare. You thought long and hard, but in the end, you had nothing.

"I...I don't know."

You heard a sigh, a hand rubbing your back, and another reaching for your cheek, wiping the stray tears you were unaware of.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight, again?"

Some of you wanted to say no, but the opposing side longed for it. You stared at the clock on the wall before you, reading the time. It was a little past midnight, and you had hardly gotten any rest. You had a big day tomorrow, and rest was crucial to get through your day. God knows the things you would do if you did not properly sleep.

Turning to your twin brother, you weakly nodded, "Okay."

He did not hesitate to tuck you under his arm as if in an attempt to protect you from any harm to come your way, to shield you from the nightmares. However, despite his presence, it was like a part of the dream appeared that you remembered but didn't at the same time.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Please just answer me...for my sanity."

Your brother sighed, resting his cheek on your head as he rubbed your shoulder to comfort you.

"Y/n, I have no doubt you will make a great mother. Come on, let's go back to sleep. I'll stay here, and everything will be better in the morning."

"Promise me it will be better in the morning."

"What?"

"You don't have to hold up to it. I just...I just want to hear you say it."

"I promise it will be better in the morning."

"Okay..."

New series?? Sequel???Maybe, but first, a little break ☆~ (˃̵ڡ‘˶ )

Taglist (Thank you all so much for being a part of this series):

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident

@fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx @chariotwaves

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trashworldblog · 3 months ago

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Welp folks, looks like we're in for a hell of a season of puppet history!

*Let's crack in*

the set is gorgeous this season. i always have loved the puppet history set and how it evolves season after season. the mismatched chairs are beautiful. i love the lion and beaver and little dinos. and eagle eyed viewers may notice the brick wall came from the old pod watcher set, and watcher tv folks might have noticed the scuba lamp fella is the light they made on weird wonderful world (thanks to @toomanywatchers for pointing that one out to me!) also the new theater!! its gorgeous!! the stars light up!!! its so pretty!! incredible craftsmanship!

now why is ryan holding a ... hose (?) ready to fight someone? maybe to melt a wicked witch of the west? kill a genie? kick some hologram ass again — water is good in a fight against electronics [unless the substitute is a pokemon] — either way its a little too soon to tell but i love to throw shit at the wall and see if it will stick like molasses so maybe he's fighting dorthy ruth's shady second husband.

PS aka Puppet Safety: what seems to be a shady organization that is responsible for or is dealing with the puppets in pergatory. im assuming they arent going to be great based on the poster that i will struggle to read later, but either way, their role next season is to deal with the mess of all those dead NOT DEAD puppets in hell Wondrium Arena PERGATORY. Theyre like OSHA. but puppets.

okay now i cant read all of that but what i can make out shivers my timbers. its obvious that shit is gonna go a little crazy if theres a department. but after carefully unravelling whats in this, you guys might go nuts.

after taking it into photoshop to try to enhance it, i got this. still pretty incomprehensible, especially on the right side. but im autistic and also a bitch so i wont take no for an answer. so i zoomed in and squinted and started reading anyways. and this is what i got.

The department of puppet safety (the department) hereby unequivocally disragards any and all responsibility, liability, or .....

to the words statements, or [representations?] made on the poster....

the phrase 'everything will be [fine?]' (... referred to as 'The Substitute') The Substitute is .....

and a not to be.... or a [tactical? factual?]

it is typically noted and dictated that contrary to the ..... of the [Substitute?]

the [Poster?] ('The [Reader? Riddler? Reactor?]') is herby informed that they are....

included but not limited to an immediate and painful vaporation....

shredded by a thousand lazers that simultaneously rips your.....

the aforementioned vaporation process is depicted to appear in the [readers?]....

'pergatory' However, The department makes no....

pergatory and any assumptions by the [Reader?] regarding....

evidence. In short, pergatory may or may exist and the Department cannot be held responsible for any...

uncertainty.

By choosing to meet or otherwise engage with the Substitute the [Reader?] acknowledges and accepts....

consequences that may arise, including but not limited to their imminent vaporation, the insuing agony...

or similar unknown [means? realms?]. The [Reader] further acknowledges that they are inherently....

adverse outcomes stemming from.... The [Reader] ... responsibility and not that of The Department.

The Department futher .... any duty of care ... duty or any other obligation to protect safeguard..... of the

[Reader]. The [Reader] is advised to

have any doubts or concerns regarding the potential ramifications.

In the event that any portion of the disclaimer a ......

..... [??? which shall remain in Lil bitch and effect. ????]

By continuing to meet, ..., or otherwise engage with the Substitute the [Reader].....

and ...... and acknowledges that they have been sufficiently...

Summary: The Department of Puppet Safety takes no responsibility for the consequences of ..... the [Substitute?]

[vaporization?] and..... [afterlife?]

the brackets are for the text mush i couldnt quite make out but could make out with context clues or letters.

Disclaimer: This is a poster from The Department. The Department is trying to cover up that pergatory even exists, so accusations and information from this poster should be taken with a grain of salt.

the substitute is gonna be a player next season! yay!!

I spent a long time trying to decipher what the "Reader" actually says but the image was too compressed to make anything out besides possibly a captial R, and the first time i read it I read it as reader, so we'll go with that for now. Now, who is this mysterious reader? why is he in contact with the Substitute? I believe this reader is the mystery puppet we saw in this tease from shane a few weeks ago.

we see the reader be buddy buddy with the professor. maybe they're friends from long ago, maybe they're family, maybe they've just met. either way, he plays the key role in helping or hurting the puppets that are trapped in pergatory.

Now, is he working with the Substitute? did he just meet with them? it seems that simply contacting the substitute could lead to vaporation, and if the reader wants to help free the trapped puppets from pergatory, the substitute would be the only other puppet (besides literal god and satan) that would have any information. So the Reader could be a good guy just looking to help out and looking for information.

or he is working with the Substitute by getting buddy buddy with the professor. He learns about dorthy ruth and how she is on a mission to get her stanly melvin back from pergatory. so he, as an evil scientist that may have created the substitute, slips her a horse brain pill so that she forgets everything, even her own name, as the song above suggests.

I do find it interesting how all of my information about the reader is coming from The Department, who is basically just using the reader as a scapegoat. if the department is supposed to keep puppets safe, why are they covering this up? why are they using vaporization death penalties? what is really going on here? why is my silly puppet show slowly turning into a massive lore dump with an overbearing government that is pumping out propaganda and using scapegoats? why am i having so much fun with it and so excited to start a puppet revolution? free your felt hands from your chains!

The more I dig, all im left with is more questions. I can not wait to see what is in store for us. This has been the most fun I've ever had digging for lore. I can't wait for this season !!!! It's going to be so insane and fun.

#puppet history #puppet history lore #watcher #shane madej #the professor #watcher entertainment #ryan bergara #the substitute #watcher tv

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yustea · 10 months ago

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Paring: bf Jisung x afab reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After a long week of stress, work and quick fucks, Y/N and Han are desperate to let off some steam. However, when Y/N comes up with the idea of incorporating Viagra in their sex life, will they be able to handle it when that desperation escalates to drug-induced, animalistic fucking?

Genre: +18 content so MDNI, bf Jisung, slight crack, wild primal smut!, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: switch!sub-lean!Han, switch!Y/N, unsafe!use!of!viagra!, Y/N is a MENACE, protected sex (reader has an IUD)!, intoxicated!sex!, dazed!sex!, primal!thoughts(?)!, rough!manhandling!, biting!, marking!, hair!tugging!, pussy!eating!, mutual!masturbation!, rough!fingering!, messy!, cum!eating!, riding!, doggy!style!, creampie! (wrap it before you tap it), pet!names! (babe, baby!boy!, darling, my love, baby, pretty baby), mentions of shower!sex!, possession!, crying!

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

WARNING: This use and representation of Viagra is INACCURATE and UNSAFE to take. Please DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME and always THOROUGHLY RESEARCH and CONSULT WITH HEALTH PROFESSIONALS before consuming ANY TYPE OF DRUG.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Han quizzed as he squinted at the fineprint upon the box, thoroughly underlining each section of text with a delicate finger. He glanced between the spoons, the scattered viagra pills decorating the countertop of the kitchen and you, who was dividing equal portions to two glasses. You swatted a hand, pooh-poohing his validated concern. “Babe, if I’m being honest, I could give less of a fuck right now,” you waltzed to the sink carrying the glasses and filling them up to equal levels. “It’s been ages since we’ve spiced up our sex life cause of work and other events,” you placed them on the counter, dropping two pills per cup and stirring them vigorously with a spoon. “And frankly,” you squatted down to watch them rapidly dissolve in the liquid, Han following suit. “I need a hard and rough fuck.”

A spluttered cough was sounded to your left, a smirk etching your lips as you glanced at the eruption of rouge gracing his flushed face. “Cat caught your tongue darling?” you battered your lashes, presenting him with your best seductive siren eyes. “Sh-shut up,” he choked out, playfully slapping your shoulder. You chuckled, returning your sight to the now foggy solution slowly swirling around in the glasses. “Yaayyyy, it’s done!!” you jumped up in glee, rapidly clapping your hands in excitement. Hurriedly, you passed a glass to Han, beaming at him with eagerness as he gingerly took the glass from your hand. He swallowed.

“What if something goes wrong?” Han gazed into your eyes, a frown forming as worry and unsurety splayed across his features. You cupped his cheek with a hand, gently caressing his smooth skin. “If it’s that much of an issue, we don’t have to do it,” you assured him. He leaned into your touch, a brief moment passing before he quickly shook his head. “Fuck it, we only live once,” he stated before winding your arm around his to create a love shot. A devilish grin unfurled from your lips as a mischievous glint illuminated your eyes. “That’s the spirit baby boy,” you winked at him. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” A quiet chortle erupted from your mouth.

“Bottoms up my love,” you clinked glasses and with that you both downed the drinks, grimacing at the bitter after-taste. “That tasted like shit,” Han gagged, cutely wrinkling his nose as he set aside his glass. “Agreed,” your body shuddered in response to the disgusting flavour. A quiet silence enveloped the atmosphere, both of you lost in thought. “Well,” he voiced after a moment. “I guess we’ll see how long this’ll take.”

He drummed his fingers against the counter as you hummed in agreement, anticipation lacing your veins. “I think I’m going to have a shower,” you contemplated, leaning in to place a delicate peck to his cheek. You brushed against his ear. “Don’t miss me too much my love,” you murmured, gently nibbling the cartilage, teasingly pulling away before he could touch you. A frustrated smirk adorned his lips, his grip tightening against the kitchen bench. “You little tease,” he sighed as he shook his head, gaze trailing after you as you sauntered off to the bathroom, flashing him a final wink before locking the door behind you.

Not even ten minutes later cool water sprayed against your heated and tingly skin as thick globs of arousal dripped down your thighs. A primal fog of desperation clouded your logic and senses as you rapidly rubbed your clit. A loud mewl ripped from your throat in need. “J-jisung-,” you panted, now humping your hand in swift, erratic, pulsating motions. As if summoned, an urgent knock echoed the bathroom walls and a meek “B-babe?” was whimpered behind the locked door. You scrambled out of the shower, not bothering to dry off nor change. With jittery hands you unlocked the door and your world paused as your eyes feasted on the sight before you.

There, in the doorway, stood Han. You took in his bare form; gleaming sweat glistened against his rubicund complexion, strips of hair clung to his damp forehead, primaeval lust embellished his virile features as he shamelessly eyed your naked body. His chest expanded and contracted with each heave, his ligaments twitching in agitated desire. Your gaze slowly trailed his sculpted frame, admiring his lean physique and halting at the prize that stood tall and proud between his limbs. The bulbous tip was tinted in an angry crimsoned hue as dribbles of precum leaked from the slit, defining veins protruding from his long shaft. Your breath hitched as you encompassed in the view of his erected dick, your thighs clenching as lewd thoughts swam in your drug-induced mind. An audible gulp echoed as a treacle of arousal slid down your legs. You flickered your eyes back to his.

As if possessed, your mouths collided, inflicting a chaotic battle of tongues and teeth as your hands roamed each other's skin. With a bang, Han slammed the door shut, rattling the condiments on the counter and pinning you against the cool door as he continued to devour you. Choirs of breathy whines escaped your throats as desperation and impatience surged through your bodies. You harshly holstered your legs around his hips, forcing his thigh to wedge between your palpitating cunt. A jolted moan erupted from your lips at the contact, eyes rolling back as you broke the violent transit of kissing. Han dived for your exposed neck, littering bruising bites as his canines lightly pierced your skin. Your mouth gaped in a silent shriek as he continued his nimble ministrations, leaving a stream of red and warm-purple blotches in his wake as he pursued down, down, until he was level with your sopping pussy.

He inhaled deeply, basking in your alluring scent as a guttural groan resonated throughout his thorax. A carnal, possessive desire infatuated his being as he moistened his lips. “Mine,” he growled before licking rabid strips against your mound. A choked whine cascaded your vocals as he demolished your throbbing heat. You rutted your hips in sync with his beastly motions as your animalistic temperament consumed your entire consciousness. “Ji-Jisu-ng,” you gasped. He glanced up, his brown doe eyes glinting with need as his hand wandered between his legs, hissing in pleasure as he held his seeping cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began to jack off, setting an undulated rapid pace. He thumbed his tip, earning a desperate mewl as more semen leaked from the angry slit. The vibrations of his vocals rippled against your clit, sprinkling your mind with a euphoric sensation. Your hips became hasty as you chanted his name like a mantra.

“Cl-cl-clos-e,” you breathly whined as your fingers intertwined in his sweaty locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, jolting a loud whimper from his mouth and spurring Han to fasten his motions. “M-me t-too,” he sighed, flinging his head back as he felt the surge of his impending release. He roughly pummelled two fingers into your wet heat, haphazardly scissoring you open, leaving you gaping and breathless. He began toying with your clit, mirroring his antics with the head of his shaft. You both elicited a loud moan at the stimulation, wildly humping your hips as you and Han chased your orgasms. “Go-nna c-cum!” you cried as you fell over the edge of tranquil bliss. Your juices squirted on Han’s hand and pleasure-ridden face, his own cum splattering against your quaking legs and the wooden door, painting it a creamy hue.

In an esurient daze, Han hungrily lapped at your sweet fluid, groaning as the taste flooded his searing tongue. You continued to rut against his mouth, gradually riding out your high. Deep, heavy, pants plagued the bathroom as both you and Han caught your breaths, the scents of your arousals pluming the air as need slowly began to itch at your veins once more. You felt a soft tap below your kneecap and peered down to see the quivering body of Han. Sat perched on his knees, eyes shimmering with a silent plea as his cock was still erected and vibrantly red as a meek whimper chorused his throat. “P-please,” he begged as water glistened his tear ducts. “N-need t-to f-uck you.” He snaked his arms around your waist before gently dragging you down, plonking you onto his cum coated lap, whining at the contact against his tingly skin.

Your limbs shook as you exhaustingly hoisted yourself above his pulsating shaft, drooling at the sight of his tip continuing to seep his semen. You wet your lips. “R-ready?” you horsley cooed. An eager nod was all you needed before you plunged his member deep into your slick chore. You both abruptly gasped, a lewd whine following suit at the sensation. You began to bounce, repeatedly pounding on his cock as the primal fog enveloped you with desire once more. Han’s jaw fell slack as his mouth gaped in silent, intoxicated bliss. Rugged pants reverberated across the confined space, your breaths mixing and intertwining with one another as you quickened your pace. You grazed your hand against his cheek, tilting his head as you pressed your lips against his, exchanging saliva in a sloppy, feverish kiss.

Han angled his face, devouring your mouth as he planted his heels against the smooth surface of the tiles and thrusted. Riveting bursts of pleasure raced throughout your bodies with each smack of your hips as he repeatedly struck your g-spot. Sparks flew in your vision, almost becoming palpable. His nails dug into your skin, embellishing them with crescent-shaped marks. Laboured whines and moans encircled the atmosphere as you teetered on the edge of utopia. “S-so c-clo-se!” Han panted, his pace now rabid in desperation to orgasm. “M-e t-too!” you cried as your wet heat clenched his twitching dick like a vise.

In a sudden lurch, Han flipped you onto your stomach, accidentally thumping the cabinetry in suit as a series of loud clatters tinkered against the counter, sink and ground. Without a care, Han continued to piston his hips into your sopping pussy, now in doggy-style. He gently raked his nails down your exposed nape to the curve of your ass, a lewd groan surging from his throat. “M-my p-pretty ba-by,” he whined as he ran his hand to the back of head and gave a firm tug on your damp hair. You gave a vehement mewl at the sensation, carving your palms with moon-like streaks. “C-cu-m-ming!” you squealed, clouded speckles blinding your vision as you came. Your juices plashed against his pulsating shaft as he gave a final cry before drowning your drenched cunt in his thick ropes of cum.

Filthy whimpers enveloped the room as Han continued to half-heartedly rut into your core. Your filled heat spasmed as overstimulation began to settle in your limbs as you gradually came down from your high, your sight becoming crystal. Once your breathing regulated a little, Han’s arms gave in and he collapsed on top of you, enveloping you in his embrace. He delicately brushed aside stray strands of your hair before placing a loving peck upon your forehead and slumping beside you. “Wow,” he wheezed after a moment’s pause, your chests heaving in exhaustion as you regained your bearings. With quaking limbs you sat up, gazing upon the tarnished bathroom as scatters of health-care and beauty products adorned the floor, some oozing liquid from its fractured encasement.

“We’ve fucked the bathroom,” you gruffly chuckled, wincing slightly as your throat felt like sandpaper. Han propped himself up and his eyes widened as a sheepish grin graced his flushed features. “My bad,” he grimaced before expelling in a coughing fit and laying back down on the cold tile as he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. You glanced at him, a small smile gracing your lips before your eyes flitted to the cum-stained door, some of Han’s essence still dripping onto the tiled floor. “We should really clean that before it permanently discolours it,” you gestured to the ghastly evidence. Han merely hummed before you attempted to stand up, only to have your knees buckle and flop to the ground in exhaustion. A muffled laugh chorused from your side.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “This is your fault.” A small pout formed on your face as you softly slapped his arm in feign annoyance. Han only giggled more before he sat eye-level with you. “Sorry my love,” he grinned before pecking your pouty lips. He stood up with a groan, carefully dodging the fallen objects before returning with a damp towel and thoroughly wiped the edge of the door, chucking it in the bin afterward. “What about me?” you teasingly huffed, gesturing to your leaking pussy as a mixture of both your fluids trickled onto the floor. He playfully rolled his eyes, already retrieving another damp cloth before bending down and delicately wiping away the remnants of your cums. Your breath hitched at the cool touch, sucking on your lip to suppress any audible whimpers.

“You know,” you started after a pause as Han’s eyes flickered up to yours. “With how hard you fucked me, you probably broke my IUD in two.” A startled choking noise sounded from him as his skin ran a deeper crimson. You cackled at his response before cupping his rouged face in your hands, halting his motions as you caressed his warm cheeks. “My shy baby,” you cooed, planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. Your mouths moulded in sync as Han dropped the cloth and mirrored the kiss, sighing in contentment as he held you closer. You carefully broke the kiss, pulling back to admire his handsome features as he reclined into your palms. “I love you,” you whispered. A warm smile spread across his face as he leant in to peck your forehead. “I love you too,” he hummed, staring at you adoringly.

Suddenly, he stiffened. His face flushed a deeper crimson. You felt something prod your core. Han quickly glanced down. Then back at you. Your eyes widened. A bashful smirk adorned his face.

“Round two?”

A/N: Heyyyyy guys I'm backkkk!!! I've been working on this fic for a while now so I hope you all enjoyed it :)) ALSO WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWS!! I'm so happy!! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking around when I haven't been posting much, it really means a lot to me :)). Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

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gabgabwrites · 3 days ago

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HOT AS HELL | Eddie Munson [pt. 4]

summary ⇝ Eddie can finally clear things up and make amends, but Jason Carver always has to be in the way, luckily for Eddie, you’re there just on time.

warnings ⇝ language, violence, kissing, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, Switch!Eddie (if you squint), oral (F), palming, mirror sex, praising, whiny Eddie 🫢, mdni.

read previous part here!

Some shimmery, orange liquor sloshed around in your cup as you swayed and spun on the dance floor. The music was blaring, people were packed in like sardines on the dance floor, and everyone was drinking as much as they could get their hands on.

You had your eyes closed as you swayed along to the music. Everything felt good, the music, the alcohol, the adrenaline that came from parties like this, all of it was getting to you.

The plastic devil horns atop your head were crooked and your dress swished with your movements.You were in absolute bliss as you were dancing, the alcohol having hit your system a while ago and now having an effect on you.

Your mind was starting to get cloudy, and all you wanted to do was dance and drink some more.

And all Eddie could do was stare. This was you in your element, and far from his. You were magnetic, it wasn't surprising to Eddie that this is the girl who got all the guys, but that you wanted him was.

Eddie was sat against the wall, watching you from across the room. His stomach had done flips when he saw you walk into the party in that dress. You looked like sin, like a perfect representation of what it would feel like to go to hell.

Your dancing had picked up, the alcohol having definitely gotten to you now. You were giggling and laughing with your friends, your body swaying and moving to the beat of the music.

You could feel eyes on you, but even in your inebriated state you could tell who those eyes belonged too.

Eddie.

He was watching you.

He could see your smile falter as you looked at him, at how your arms almost dropped before you took another gulp of your drink and started dancing the night away. Eddie's heart thumped in his chest.

He was desperate to get up, get across the room and talk to you. Explain himself or apologise or just anything to get you to acknowledge him again, but he seemed frozen in place.

That's when Jason stumbled over, like an elephant in heels, drunk. "Yo, where's the good stuff?" Jason's voice bellowed out.

Eddie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Jason's stumbling form. "Good stuff?" He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. "What 'good stuff' do you want here, Carver?"

Jason frowned, before scoffing. "The only reason you're here is because, first, I let you, and second, I got told you'd bring weed."

Eddie leaned back against the wall more, an unimpressed look on his face. "I mean, I do," he said, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But you really think I'd give any to you, of all people?"

Jason smirked, though it was anything but friendly. "Alright, I won't fight you in my house, but watch your back."

Eddie's eye twitched at the threat. Jason just made himself more unlikeable by the second, it was practically in his blood.

But he wasn't going to let Jason rile him up, not here. "Are you threatening me, Carver?" He said calmly, his arms uncrossing

"I don't know, am I?" Jason's friends let out barks of laughter.

Eddie clenched his jaw, feeling his blood start to boil. Jason was deliberately egging him on now. He took a breath in, trying to calm himself down. "You're a prick, you know that?"

Jason was done, his mouth twisted downwards before his fingers gripped Eddie by the shoulders and aggressively shoved Eddie against the wall. "Fuck you say?" The wind nearly got knocked out of Eddie from where Jason had shoved him.

The music and people around them continued to buzz and move around, oblivious to what was going on and what was about to unfold.

Eddie bared his teeth at Jason, his hands balling up into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch Jason, he should punch Jason.

Jason's goons began to each have their turn, and if they weren't, the cheered the others on.

It started off just being shove after shove, each one getting more and more aggressive. Eddie's head was soon ringing from the amount of times it had been slammed against the wall.

Each one of Jason's friends had a turn at shoving him until eventually Jason was the only one left

He leaned in close to Eddie, a wicked look on his face. "Any last words, freak?"

Eddie struggled against the hold of the people behind him, the blood in his veins pumping, ready to fight and scream and do anything to get out of what was happening. He was about to swear and scream at Jason as loudly as he could when suddenly your voice cut through the noise.

"Jason, what the hell are you doing?"

Everyone froze, including Eddie, his gaze moving from Jason to you as you stood a few feet away from them.

He had never been more grateful to hear your voice.

You were standing just off to the side, your arms crossed over your chest and a look of anger on your face.

Jason, however, seemed taken by surprise by your sudden presence. He dropped his grip on Eddie, before straightening himself out. "This doesn't concern you." He told you.

But you weren't listening to him, you were only looking at Eddie.

He looked back at you, holding eye contact for a moment and silently pleading for you to keep helping. He let out a sharp exhale, his breathing still heavy and his body tense. You took a step closer, putting yourself in the middle of everything.

"It clearly does if you're shoving Eddie into a wall." Your voice was controlled, but still sharp and loud as you said this.

Jason's eyebrow twitched up in confusion, before he unfitted Eddie's jacket and turned solely to you. "So you concerned for the freak?"

Eddie let out a scoff beside you, rolling his eyes at the comment from Jason.

You ignored him, still looking at Jason with a fire in your eyes. "Why were you beating him up, Jason?"

Jason's mouth gaped open for a moment, shocked from you asking him such a question. "You're taking his side over mine?" He asked, disbelief clear in his voice as he looked at you.

You were getting fed up now. Jason wasn't answering the question, he was just avoiding it. Typical. "Answer me." You said firmly.

Jason was practically reeling now, taken aback by your persistence. "He deserved it, alright?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're a fucking piece of work," you scoffed before pushing past him, and grabbing Eddie by his wrist. "Come on."

Eddie stumbled along, his body still sore from being shoved against the wall and punched but he was grateful to get away from Jason and the rest of his goons.

He still couldn't believe you'd come and stood up for him, helped him even.

You dragged him to a bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind him. "What the hell was that? Your face is all busted."

Eddie leaned against the bathroom sink, breathing still heavy. He let out a forced laugh, a small smirk appearing on his face. "What, that? Just a regular day for me, sweetheart."

You gave him a look while you eyed the blood on his teeth. "This is the second time l've had to help your ass."

His smirk widened. "I'm starting to think all I need to get you to talk to me is to get my ass kicked." He said jokingly, his heart still racing from what had happened.

You sighed, before grabbing a dry wash cloth. You turned to the sink and dampened it.

A part of Eddie still couldn't believe you were here with him, after avoiding him all week and practically ignoring his existence.

You turned to him, silently, before pressing the cloth on his upper lip, letting the washcloth absorb some of his blood.

Eddie let out a slight whimper as the cloth connected with his lip. It stung slightly, his lip must have been split from all the punching.

He was still so tempted to reach out and touch you instead of this wash cloth, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Eddie stood there silently as you cleaned up the blood on his face. His heart was racing, his mind reeling and his body practically begging to touch you, to take you in his arms.

But he didn't. He stood there and stayed silent, watching you work.

Once enough of his blood was gently wiped away, you turned the cloth over and wet it again, before pressing it on the mark above his eyebrow.

He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his eyes following your every movement. He was desperate to keep his cool, he desperately tried to stay calm.

You were so close to him, he could feel you breathe and smell your perfume again, it was driving him wild.

"Okay," you sighed. "I think you're fine now."

Eddie felt his heart drop when you said that. He didn't want you to stop, he wanted you to continue running that washcloth over his skin, touching him, holding his face.

He just wanted to be the subject of your touches again, especially now.

The washcloth was lowered, you were done cleaning him up.

He was silently begging for you to keep touching him, please god keep touching him, but all he was met with was your gaze, and neither of you said anything at all. You were only looking at each other, the bathroom being quiet except for the muffled music from the party outside.

You took him in, how his eyes were a lighter, honey brown if in the light, how his hair is now a bit more unruly, begging for you to run your hand through it. He was beautiful in ways that you couldn't admit.

Eddie's heart thumped in his chest as he returned your gaze. He was staring so intensely at you, his eyes wandering down your face and body, taking in your appearance.

You were practically stunning to him, hell, to anyone with eyes.

The way the dress fit your body and hugged you in all the right places, the way your hair was styled, your makeup that accentuated your features, and even the pointy, red horns sat on top your head, it all drove him mad.

"Eddie...?" Your voice was almost a whisper as you spoke, feeling the fronts of your shoes meet his.

He swallowed, the sound of you saying his name sending a shiver down his spine.

He could feel your body so close to his, the tips of your shoes meeting his own, it was so close to being too much for him but he was too lost in you to care. He could barely think, let alone answer.

But he let out a weak, "Yeah?"

You took in a long breath. "Please kiss me."

Those words sounded like music to his ears.

His eyes widened for just a moment, processing what you had said, before he quickly composed himself.

Without hesitation, he surged forward and captured your lips in a kiss, and a copper, metallic taste entered your mouth. His hands went straight to your waist, pushing you against the bathroom counter.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you let your arms fall around his neck, and allowing yourself to get lost in him.

You needed this as much as he did.

His lips were frantic as he kissed you, like he was starved of your touch.

Eddie had missed this so much, being able to hold you like this, even if he got to experience it only once. His lips began to move desperately against your own, his grip on your waist getting tighter and tighter.

A low moan escaped his lips as your fingers tugged and played with his hair, the feeling driving him wild. You let out a sigh into the kiss when you felt his thick rings dig into your waist, not hating the feeling.

He desperately tried to get even closer to you, closing any space between you, his tongue poking against your tongue desperately.

You felt him bend at the knees slightly, taking this as a sign to jump, allowing for him to drop you onto the counter. Eddie's heart skipped a beat when your legs wrapped around him like this, pulling his body flush against yours.

He leaned in even closer, his lips travelling over your face and down your neck, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive spots.

You gasped, craning your head to give him more access to your neck. A moan tangled up in your throat when Eddie found that one sweet spot.

He continued to kiss and nibble on that one specific spot, his hands going to rub up and down your thighs.

The music blared and the ground gently shook with the bass notes.

His hips were beginning to slowly move with the rhythm, his body completely pushed up against yours.

One of his hands crept up higher, beginning to fiddle with the hem of your dress. His hand was still fiddling with the hem of your dress, his mouth still on your neck, kissing and nibbling, but he paused.

In a low voice, he muttered, "Can I...?"

"Please." You begged, whined. The tone of your voice sent a thrill through him, hearing you like that.

His fingers began to edge your dress higher, slowly revealing more and more of your bare thighs to his touch. The edge of your dress was now pushed up, his hand resting on the bare area of your thigh.

He was completely entranced, the feeling of your bare skin against his touch sent waves of heat through his body.

The room was getting warmer as he continued to kiss and suck on your neck.

His hand was still slowly trailing up your bare thigh, his fingers leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever, but you knew time wasn't on your side, so you hastily grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand between your legs, letting him feel your soaked underwear.

His breathing quickened, his body feeling like there was a livewire running through him. He pressed his palm flat against your mound, trying to keep from losing control right there.

"Oh god..." He groaned, his head dropping so the side of his face was now up against your neck. You could feel his fingers twitch against you, eager, so very eager to touch you further.

You nudged your hips against his palm and whined, "Touch me, Eds."

A rush of heat shot through his body at the sound of your voice, begging him, wanting him.

He couldn't resist, not anymore.

His hand began to move, his nimble fingers gently rubbing against you, up and down, circling in all the right places.

Eddie’s lips continued to kiss along your neck, his breathing getting heavier as he did so.

His calloused fingers pressed against your underwear, but it wasn't enough, at least, not for him. Eddie's fingertips moved to the side before he pulled your panties to the side, his ringed brushed against your folds as he did.

Eddie had to move his head back, breaking the kiss with a gasp, he had to see you.

You gasped as soon as you felt his fingers against your folds, no longer blocked by your panties.

Eddie's face was a picture as he looked down, his fingers gently rubbing and circling against you.

He could feel himself growing harder with each second passing. "Fuck..." He groaned, unable

He was struggling to form sentences now, every thought in his brain was consumed with how you felt against him, how you sounded, it was almost too much to handle.

"You're so pretty." He said hoarsely, his hips bucking lightly, into the air, out of instinct.

A grin split on your kiss-bruised, lipstick smudged lips as you looked at him through your hooded eyes. "You think so?"

Seeing you look at him like that, seeing how ruined you looked already did something to him.

"I'm positive, sweetheart," he managed to choke out, still rubbing and circling against you with his fingers. His head dropped back down against your neck, he was practically incapable of holding himself back anymore from you. "Need to taste you." He said against your skin, his breath hot against you.

"We don't have much time." You sulked, hips jerking when his finger went over that one extra sensitive nerve.

He chuckled breathlessly against your neck, his fingers continuing their constant pattern against you, trying to get as many little gasps and moans as he could.

"I'll just have to be quick then, sweetheart." He told you, his voice low and gruff against you.

You nodded, watching him step back, his dark eyes watched your arousal in awe, unable to believe one of his wishes were coming true. He wet his lips, before he fell onto his knees.

Your eyes followed him, his body now between your legs. He stared at you like you were a meal set down in front of him, already salivating at the thought of what he was going to do.

And when his eyes looked up at you, for approval, you swore you were looking down at an angel. It was ironic, how you—dressed as the devil, stared down at the angel.

You bent forward so that your hand moved to cradle his jaw. "You sure you'll be okay with your lip all busted?"

Eddie leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he relished in the feeling of your skin against his. His head was already swimming in a haze of lust, too far gone to even care at this point.

"The only thing I'm worried about right now is tasting you." He said confidently, his eyes opening to meet yours again.

His fingers fanned out over your thighs before he dipped his head forward. At first, you flinched as his hairs ticked your inner thighs before a gasp fell from your lips when his tongue planed out over your folds.

A low rumble sounded in his throat when he finally, finally, tasted you after almost a week of waiting.

His tongue swiped over you, slow and firm, wanting to savor every second of this. He closed his eyes to focus on you, on how you tasted, on how you felt against his tongue

He began to speed up with his tongue, determined to get more sounds from you, more of those gasps and moans that he loved so much.

Eddie squeezed your thighs as he worked, his lips and tongue moving in perfect unison

He could feel the way your body trembled against his touch, how you twitched and squeezed as he continued to taste and tease you. It was all pushing him further, the sound of you alone was driving him wild.

Your fingers were in his hair, weaving into his coils of brown, pushing him deeper into you while he threw your legs over his shoulders. A moan vibrated against your skin at the feeling of you pulling his hair, the pressure spurring him on further.

He pushed further between your legs, burying his face against you as he continued to taste and lick you. His own thighs were clenching hard at the sound of your gasps and moans, the little whimpers that escaped your mouth, it was almost too much.

"Oh, Eddie. Right there." You mewled when his tongue swirled inside you. You gazed down at him, seeing his nose peer out before disappearing, feeling it bump your swollen clit.

Eddie kept his tongue right where it was, determined to keep you making those sweet sounds, not even daring to move to where you needed him most. He wanted to keep you on the edge, making you crave more and more.

His tongue was working quickly, lapping and licking up every bit of you that he could reach. He pulled you as close as he could, wanting to feel your thighs wrapped tight around his head as he continued to taste you. He couldn't get enough of you, desperate to get even more of you

He pulled back just for a moment to gasp for breath, looking up at you with wild eyes.

Eddie's voice was hoarse when he spoke, "You look so pretty when l've got my tongue in you, sweetheart."

Your stomach ruptured, and you gave him a shy smile. "You look pretty when your tongue’s in me." You moved one hand away from his head and clasped it around his fingers on your right thigh.

He chuckled softly, his face and lips glistening from being between your legs. He interlocked his fingers with yours as he looked up at you with darkened eyes, wanting you so desperately. "That the only place you think my tongue looks good?"

You flushed. "You know that's not what I meant," you groaned. "Your tongue looks great...anywhere, and you look pretty all the time."

He grinned at your reaction, the redness in your cheeks sending another wave of heat through him.

He slowly, very slowly, rose back up to his feet. Even then, he still had you held against the counter, his body held flush against yours. "All the time?" He repeated, his voice low. "You really think I'm always pretty?"

"Yes." You leant forward to capture his lips, tasting your arousal on them and happily licking it off.

You didn't miss the way Eddie 'oh-so-casually' slipped one of his chunky rings off-the giant skull one with fangs, the one he kept on his ring finger— and slid it onto your ring finger before he grasped your waist, pulling you into his and groaning when he felt you bare against the tent in his jeans, warm and weeping through the fabric.

His lips parted almost immediately as soon as your tongue met his, allowing you to taste yourself against his tongue.

Eddie let out another deep moan as he felt you rubbing against him, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave marks.

His head was spinning at the feeling of you grinding against him, his body slowly moving in time with you. It was almost too much and yet he wanted even more.

He was all too eager, his hands quickly moved off you and found his thick, studded belt, before hastily undoing the buckle.

He was a frenzy of movement in those brief few moments, tugging and yanking at his belt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle.

His jeans felt too tight, too painful against him, the only thing on his mind was the need to feel more of you.

In an instant, his pants were off, leaving him in his patterned underwear, that was black with small designs of devil inspired prints.

And when you looked down, you had to swallow, it was always the more reserved ones that carried an impressive length, and you could see that now. He was standing over you, his legs bracketing yours, left in his boxers that were now sporting a sizeable bulge.

He was watching you intently, seeing the way your eyes roamed over his body and down to his boxers, seeing the hunger in your eyes.

His eyes were darkened, his skin beginning to glisten with a thin sheen of sheen, the air around him becoming thick with tension.

Your hand latched and squeezed him through the fabric.

"Fuck." The word came out in a hiss, his head tilting back as a shudder wracked his body at your touch. He let out a shaky breath, having to steady himself because of how weak you were making him from the simple touch.

His body was aching for you, his mind completely focused on wanting to feel more of you.

"Talk to me, Eds. I like the sound of your voice." You told him softly, feeling him twitch in your palm.

His breathing was eradicated as he tried to think, barely able to form a coherent thought with the way your palm was against him, gripping him.

He managed to let out a huff, his eyes opening slightly to look down at you again. "It's hard to...to talk when you're..."

He didn't even try to finish the sentence, one of his hands coming down to firmly grip your hip, his fingers digging in.

"When I'm what? You don't wanna talk to me?" You feigned a pout while you squeezed him harder, grinning like the cheshire cat when you felt a blotch of wetness grow in your palm.

A strangled choking sound escaped him as he felt you squeeze him even more, his hips bucking ever so slightly. His breathing was getting heavier, his grip on your hip became stronger as he tried to keep from losing control.

He wanted to say something, anything to you, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out, only a soft, whiny moan that sounded desperate even to his own ears.

"Hmm, so you don't want to talk, I guess I'll have to stop."

The whine that escaped his mouth as you said that was almost pitiful to hear, it was the sound a dog makes when their bone gets taken away.

In an instant, his hand was on your wrist, stopping you from moving as he looked down at you.

"No, please, don't..." He pleaded, his voice hoarse. His face was a mixture of frustration and pure yearning.

He was desperate for you, and you knew it.

His body was pressed against yours as he held your hand, the heat from his skin almost burning you. He was all but pleading with you, his eyes almost desperate.

He was close to losing control, his mind becoming completely consumed by you and your touch. All he could think about was how his body was aching for you, to feel you, to be closer to you.

"Then let me hear you."

A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of your voice, he let out a shaky breath before nodding.

"Okay," he whimpered, his own voice was still slightly hoarse. "Just...please, don't stop." He whined, giving you a pleading look, his dark eyes begging you.

You shrugged, wriggling your fingers against his boner. With your other hand, you pried his hand off yours before moving yours up and pushing his hair out of his face. "My sweet Eds," you cooed. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling."

The gentle touch of your hand against his hair had his eyes fluttering, a shiver running through his body at your touch.

He let out a slow shaky breath, trying to focus his thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence and answer your question.

"I...I can't think about anything other than you," he admitted, his voice wavering. "You're all I want to think about...all I can think about."

Your eyes softened as you continued to palm him, feeling yourself clench around nothing at the poor sight in front of you. "Yeah?"

His eyes closed as he felt your hand against him again, a stifled moan slipping from his lips before he spoke again, trying to keep his breathing steady.

He nodded, opening his eyes again to look into yours. "I've wanted you for so... for so long...so goddamn long."

His pupils were blown, and his eyes were glazed over. "And now you have me." You told him.

Eddie nodded again, his hands moving to grip your hips again, pulling your body as close to his as possible. His breathing became quicker, his eyelids fluttering at your words, feeling himself becoming a complete mess under your touch.

His voice was low and strained when he spoke, "I need you...I need you so badly."

"What do you need, baby? What do you need me to do?"

He groaned again, his mind becoming even more consumed by you as he heard that pet name fall from your lips.He couldn't think straight, his words coming out in a rushed, low tone. "I need to feel more, I need to be closer to you. Please?”

"And how do you suppose we fix that problem?" Your head tipped to the side, devil horns tipping to, while Eddie was almost falling into you, your hand relentlessly grinding against him.

A strangled sound escaped him at your question, his hips bucking slightly involuntarily. His eyes were hazy, completely consumed by you and the feeling of your palm against him.

He let out a shaky breath, and through gritted teeth, he managed to speak. "I need—I need to be inside you."

You nodded, agreeing with his statement. You moved your hand up before hooking it onto the waistband of his underwear and pulling it down, exposing him, hard, throbbing, and begging for you.

He was beautiful, he had an impressive girth and a length that had your salivating. A flush pink tip that lead to vines of veins and a surprisingly trimmed bush.

Your breath hitched as you looked down at him, seeing how hard he was for you, how he was already leaking from just your touch alone. The sight of him like this was almost too much, the knowledge that it was you that had him in this wrecked state caused an ache of desire to run through you.

Eddie felt too hot under your gaze and quickly removed his shirt, exposing the few tattoos he had to you.

He was almost feverish as he looked down at you again, desperate to be closer to you. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in every little detail and memorizing every little thing.

His body was hot and flushed, his breathing fast and heavy. He needed you, wanted you more than anything right now.

His eyes then flickered to behind you, at the mirror then at the sink. "Won't you be uncomfortable on this?" He asked you.

You followed his gaze over your shoulder, seeing the mirror behind you. Then you looked back at him, seeing the idea on his face. You hummed in agreement, the surface under you wasn't the most comfortable.

Your thighs were already a little numb from being sat against it for so long.

"Come here, sweetheart. I'll hold you." He took a step back and opened his arms.

You gave him a small smile before sliding off the counter, a shiver running down your spine when your legs protested at the movement. Carelessly, you threw yourself at him, feeling his cock press against your tummy while you kissed him once more.

Eddie caught you easily in his arms, keeping you close to him as he returned the kiss. His lips moved against yours, needy and desperate. His body ached for you, craving your touch and your presence.

His fingers found the zipper of your dress, before tugging it out, releasing you from its confines. Eddie shouldn't have been surprised you chose not to sport a bra, yet he was.

His eyes fell down to your bare breasts when your dress slipped from your body, a shudder running through his entire body at the sight.

He was completely enraptured by your body, drinking in every inch of you. A low, guttural moan rumbled in his chest as his eyes roamed across your torso. His hands came up to your body, his fingertips brushing along your skin, exploring your bare flesh slowly, caressing you softly. He touched you as if you were something to be worshipped and admired, as if you were priceless.

He let out another shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "God, you're beautiful."

His hands were moving, slowly going to your sides, roaming over your hips. He was relishing in the feel of finally being this close to you, skin against skin.

His lips moved from your mouth down to your neck, trailing wet kisses against your skin, biting and sucking, wanting to mark you, to claim you as his.

Eddie’s hands were restless, unable to stay in one place as they continued to roam across your body slowly, as if mapping you out.

He was leaving a trail of lovebites down your neck, wanting to claim you in any way he could. His body was aching, aching for you.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned your body around.

His body pressed flush against your back as he turned you around, his lips still against your skin, reluctant to leave your body but knowing what he wanted to do next.

He continued to kiss and nip at your skin, marking you wherever he could as he slowly guided you forward towards the mirror.

Even though Eddie crumbled under your touch, he still has some control. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades and pushed you forwards, having you arch into him.

Every movement he made was slow and deliberate, controlling your body as he wanted. Eddie moved his body against yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible, his hands gripping firmly on your hips.

"Please? Please fuck me, Eds?" Your voice choked out, you were barely one to beg, but Eddie had that effect on you. His hands tightened on your hips at the sound of your voice, a growl of satisfaction escaping him. His body shuddered at how you called out to him, begging him for what you wanted.

"I will, baby. I'll give you everything." He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, as he nuzzled into your neck, his mouth against your ear.

Your eyes met his through the mirror while he kissed your shoulder.

The sight of the two of you in the mirror fueled his desire even more, seeing all of you pressed up against him, exposed to him.

Eddie continued to kiss your shoulder, working his way up to your ear, his hands holding you firmly in place. He knew he had you at his complete mercy, and it only made him want you more.

You gasped when you felt his leaky tip nudge at your dripping folds, unconsciously spreading your legs further apart.

Your reaction caused him to let out a low growl, his hands gripping you even tighter as if to hold himself back.

Eddie was trying to control himself, trying to take it slow, but the feel of your body against his was almost too much.

He nipped at your ear before he spoke, his voice rough and low, "You're so wet, just for me," his breathing was heavy, his chest expanding and contracting against your back as he tried to keep control. Feeling you move against him, trying to get a better position, just made him want to lose himself, to take you right then and there. "You want this?" Eddie asked you, his voice a deep rumble against your ear.

You nodded, eyes on him in the mirror.

"Use your words, baby. I need to hear it from you," Eddie murmured against your ear, his body pressing even closer against yours, trapping you against the cold surface of the mirror and his hot body. "You wanted me to speak but baby can't do it herself."

You let out a breath. "Please, Eddie? I want you so bad. I need to feel you in me."

His resolve broke a split second after your words. He couldn't deny you when you were like this, begging him, needing him, wanting him.

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he muttered, "I've got you…I've got you, sweets."

Your lips drew together when you felt his tip press at your puckering entrance, brow quivering when he began to push in.

Eddie was going slow, his hands gripping you tightly, his breathing coming out in quick, hot puffs against your skin as he inched further and further in.

Feeling you around him was almost too much; he could barely form a thought. It was all you, all he could think about was how damn good you felt, how perfect you were. He was completely consumed by you.

Eddie let out another low moan, his body shaking from the effort it took to hold back. He wanted to give you a moment to adjust to him, to take in the feeling.

His hands were trembling against your skin, his breathing heavy as he nuzzled against your neck, "You're so goddamn perfect," he rasped, "You're taking me so well, sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pushed in further, the feeling of him filling you so completely, so perfectly.

Your hands found the mirror and dug into the cold surface, trying to find something to anchor yourself to as you were overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

You could hardly think, hardly breathe.

All you could focus on was the way he felt, and the sounds of his heavy, stilted breath in your ear, "So beautiful."

His ring on your left hand felt heavy, yet it had never felt so right. Your thighs clenched together when he pulled out before shoving himself back in, a moan tumbling from your lips. All you could do was moan, your body trembling as he moved inside you.

Eddie filled you completely, every movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't get enough of him, you wanted more, you needed more.

You pushed back against him, craving more contact, more friction. Your legs were shaking, your mind a haze as you gasped, "Ed—Eddie."

"I know, sweet girl." Eddie whispered while he kissed dark marks into your skin.

His lips moved from your ear to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your skin. He was marking you, claiming you as his, leaving behind a reminder of who you belonged to.

Eddie's body was pressed firmly against yours, keeping you trapped against the mirror, taking you exactly how he wanted. He wanted to see every reaction, to feel every single move your body made.

He stood up, so he couldn't properly fuck you (though to him it was more). His eyes landed on yours in the mirror, before his hips snapped back into yours, sending you pummelling into the glass.

His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled back, leaving you feeling suddenly empty for a brief moment before he thrusted back into you, hard. Eddie wanted you to feel him in every way possible, he needed you to know how much he wanted, how much he craved you.

The sight in the mirror was enough alone to drive him wild, seeing your bodies intertwined together like this

He continued to move against you, his eyes watching your face from over your shoulder, gauging each change in expression, every gasp and moan that left your lips. He looked at the sight of the two of you in the mirror- he was completely entranced.

"You look so beautiful like this, baby," he mused, his voice low and rough, "So perfect for me."

His hands slid up from your hips to your sides, his touch hot and possessive against you. Eddie continued to move inside you, his body pressed against you so close that you couldn't move much, even if you tried. You gasped in response, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You were completely lost in him, in the feeling of him inside you, around you.

You wanted him closer, you needed more of him.

You leaned up on your toes, your fingers wrapping around the counter's edge before you moved back against him, grinding and taking him deeper.

Eddie let out a guttural moan as you moved back against him, taking him in deeper than before. His body trembled with the effort to control himself. He was losing himself in you, his need for you overpowering his restraint.

His hands held onto you tightly, keeping you as close as possible, "You're gonna drive me crazy, sweetheart."

You managed to give him a small grin through the mirror as you rocked back into him, feeling a warmth grow in your lower belly.

Eddie tightened his grip on you, his breath hot against your skin as he spoke, "You're so damn beautiful, so goddamn perfect."

He could feel you clenching around him, the building of pleasure between you both. His mind was a haze of lust and need, his body moving against yours as he tried to hold

Eddie could feel himself getting close, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. "Baby—," he gasped, his voice low and rough, "I'm getting close, I don't—I don't know if I can hold back."

His hands were tight on your hips, his body moving against yours with a frenzied pace, his breath hot against your skin. He needed release,

Eddie was so close, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. "Baby, please?" He gasped, his voice strained and needy, “Please? I can't hold back any longer."

He was completely lost in you, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through his body. All he could think about was how good you felt, how to let go.

His touch sent a shiver through your body, and a low moan escaped his lips.

Eddie was right on the edge, and your words just pushed him further.

"Please, I-I need to, I need to—." He was struggling to form coherent thoughts, his mind overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him.

Your ability to stand began to weaken, having a cock pummel in and out of you while having your clit passionately flicked was doing a number on you. "You-You can cum, Eddie baby. Need to f-feel you."

Your words were like a switch, pushing him over the edge. A sharp groan escaped his lips as he let go, his body shuddering against you. He buried his face into your neck, biting down on the sensitive skin as he came hard, his body shaking from the intensity of his release.

Eddie tried to form words, tried to speak, but all he could manage was a breathless moan of your name, "Baby...baby, oh my, fuck!" You felt him spill deep inside you, the feeling had you mewling out.

It was enough to knock you over the edge.

He felt you clench around him, and it sent another shiver through his body. He held you close to him, supporting your weight as you quivered against him.

Eddie let out a content sigh as he nuzzled into your neck, "You're so goddamn perfect, baby. So damn perfect for me. Please cum, cum for me?" He wanted to feel you come undone, to feel you lose yourself in the pleasure he was giving you. Eddie continued to press kisses against your neck, his arms holding you tight, "I want to feel you, sweetheart. I need to.”

Eddie was overwhelmed by you, in awe of how you could affect him so deeply, so completely. He loved how you surrendered yourself to him, how you let him take control. It was like an addiction, and he wanted more

Your eyes rolled back, and you arched away from his chest before you orgasmed, like a dam wall collapsing, your toes curled and your throat was raw, the alice band on your head was almost falling off.

Eddie held you through it, his arms tight around you, his body pressed against yours. He could feel the waves of pleasure coursing through you, ripple through him as well.

He let out a shaky sigh, completely undone by you. He held you close, whispering praises in your ear, "So beautiful, so good. You're so good for me, sweetheart. You did really fucking well."

Your body went limp in his hold, as you leant into his touch.

Eddie held you against him, he fixed your alice band before his hands were running soothingly over your skin, tracing gentle patterns against your body. He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, "I've got you, baby. I've got you."

He held you close, his chest rising and falling slowly against your back as he tried to catch his breath, still in awe of the intense pleasure you'd both just experienced.

Eddie held you there for a while, at it suddenly came all rushing back. You felt the bass from the music downstairs resonate against your feet, and the yelling and cheers of people.

The sounds from downstairs began to pull you out of the content, blissful state you were in, reminding you of the world beyond the bathroom, beyond this intimate moment you shared with Eddie.

The harsh reality of the party was a stark contrast to the tenderness of your time together.

With a long, heavy sigh. You pulled your dress up, and flattened it while Eddie pulled his pants up.

Eddie watched you, a sense of melancholy in his gaze as you both re-adjusted your clothing, trying to make yourselves presentable again. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it back to some level of 'normal'.

Quite content, you turned around to face Eddie before throwing your arms around his neck and embracing him. "That was..." You dreamily sighed.

He chuckled softly, returning your embrace tightly, his arms wrapping around your waist. He buried his face in your neck, nuzzling against your skin,

"That was... something else. You drive me crazy, you know that?"

You grinned up at him, feeling his nose nudge yours when a loud knock and voice intruder your moment.

"Are you two done fucking? I need to piss!"

Eddie groaned, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. "Of course," he muttered, sounding annoyed, yet still holding onto you tightly. "Of course someone's got to ruin the moment."

You grumbled something in return before taking a step back and to the door, before throwing it open.

Your eyes, your eyes now red with anger, landed on Caity Stewart, in some terribly cheap costume that was supposed to be some animal. "Run the fuck away before I gag you with yogurt, again." You huffed.

Caity's eyes widened like a deer in headlights, and a flicker of fear crossed her features when she realized who was standing in front of her.

She took a shaky step back, her voice tremulous as she protested, "I just need to use the bathroom!"

"Go piss in a fucking bush." You snarled.

Caity's face turned beet red. Humiliation and anger flared in her eyes, but you could see the fear still there, like a tiny ember ready to flare at any moment.

"You-You can't just—!" She protested, but stumbled over her words, clearly intimidated by the harshness in your tone.

"Three..."

Caity trembled under your glare, her earlier confidence gone. She looked like a cornered animal, trapped and scared. You could see her mind racing, trying to figure an escape route, but finding none.

She took another step away from you, holding up her hands in surrender. "I—'ll just... go." She stuttered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Two!"

Caity's eyes widened further as your countdown ticked down. She took another step back, her back hitting the wall of the hallway now, nowhere else to run.

She swallowed hard, her voice quivering as she pleaded, "Please, just let me—!"

"O—." You were about to yell when you felt a force tug you on your wrist, sending you backwards and into Eddie's chest.

"Nope! We've had enough fights tonight. Uh, Caity, I do however suggest you run along, I can't hold her back forever, sorry!"

Caity didn't need to be told twice. She took the out Eddie offered and ran, her footsteps disappearing down the stairs. Eddie's arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest as he chuckled, "You would think she'd learn by now not to piss you off."

You sighed, spinning in his grip. "Ah well, those who fail to learn from history...and so on."

He chuckled softly, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed down at you. "You really did scare the piss out of her, you know that?"

You gave him a look. "Don't tell me the bitch pissed herself."

He chuckled, the mental image clearly amusing to him. "No, no, she didn't piss herself. But—," he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, "I did see a spot on the front of her costume."

You snorted, thwacking his chest. "You're evil."

He feigned pain, dramatically clutching his chest where you'd thwacked him.

"Me? Evil?" He retorted, grinning. "That's rich coming from the girl who just scared someone shitless."

"Okay, touché."

He laughed, his arms wrapping around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. "You're fierce, baby, you know that? It's kind of hot, watching you scare the piss outta Caity."

You raised an eyebrow. "So that's why you weren't afraid of me? 'Cause you found me hot?"

He chuckled, his fingers gently fiddling with the horns on your head. "Oh no, babe. I was scared shitless of you.” He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

He looked down at you, his gaze playful.

"But yeah, you're hot as hell when you're pissed off. Can you blame me? Uh, seriously speaking," he said, his voice dropping lower, "I'm still wary of your wrath. But I can't help but find it," he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "Arousing."

You clicked your tongue. "I'm still sore, partner. Rain check?"

Eddie chuckled as he pulled back, a lopsided grin on his lips. "Can't blame a man for trying," he said, placing a light kiss on your forehead. He took a step back, still holding onto your hand, and glanced down the hallway. "Come on, we better get back downstairs before we get any more unwanted interruptions."

He lead you downstairs, fingers loosely holding onto yours and somehow going unseen by everyone there.

Though he couldn't help but feel anxious at school the next week, not that he was embarrassed of you, but he knew what some people would think.

Eddie had a feeling some of his friends at school would think him crazy. Hell, they might not even believe that he had you - that you were his. They might mock him, taunt him, or even accuse him of making it all up.

But deep down, he knew none of that mattered. He had you, and to him, that was all that counted. He squeezed your hand gently, the small gesture his silent reassurance.

So, he took a deep breath in, and this time tightly gripped your hand as you walked through the thick doors at school. Eddie gave everyone bashful smiles while no one dared to look at you the wrong way.

You felt the eyes of your peers on you, some with curiosity, others with envy, others with disdain. It was the same faces you'd seen day after day in school, but today they seemed more... judgemental.

But at your side was Eddie, and his presence alone was enough to keep them in line. His grip on your hand was tight, a silent declaration to the world that you were his.

Jason stopped you, of course he did. "So you actually did it? You fucked the freak. How'd it feel to finally lose your virginity, freak?"

Eddie had anticipated some backlash from his peers, but the audacity of Jason's comment still caught him off guard.

He bristled, trying to keep his composure even as anger flared in his eyes. "Watch your mouth, Carver." He warned, his voice a low growl.

You hummed, agreeing with Eddie.

"You're just upset because he didn't lay there limp, it's okay though, maybe one day you'll make the big leagues and make a woman cum." You shot Jason a snarky grin before pushing past him, dragging Eddie along

Jason's face turned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and anger. He stuttered for a moment, surprised by your boldness, before regaining his composure.

Eddie couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter as he followed you, clearly amused by your quip. "Damn, babe," he chuckled, "You definitely know how to knock someone down a peg."

You leaned into his embrace. "No one gets to talk shit about you, you hear?"

Eddie's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He smiled at your declaration, his heart swelling with affection for you.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" He said, placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

Lunch was awkward that day, you and Eddie stood side by side, holding your trays, not knowing where to sit, who to sit with.

Eddie cast a cautious glance around the lunchroom, sizing up the different cliques and groups. He wasn't sure where to sit, where the two of you would fit in.

He fidgeted with the rings on his fingers, the familiar nervous habit kicking in as he weighed the options. He could feel the stares from the other students, studying the both of you like a zoo exhibit.

You looked at your friends, Darcy and Margret both eyeing you, wanting you with them, while Eddie looked upon his group, Dustin, Gareth, Mike and Jeff all looking at him, wanting him to sit with them.

The looks from your friends were imploring, while the gazes from his buddies were pleading. The air was thick with tension, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what choice the two of you would make.

Eddie swallowed hard, his hand clenching around his tray as he looked from his friends back to you. He didn't know what to do, didn't know who to choose.

You clicked your tongue, before grabbing Eddie by a belt loop and pulling him with you, to your table.

He stumbled after you, his tray nearly tipping over in surprise as you dragged him to your table. Eyes followed the both of you, watching the spectacle play out.

The table you sat at was occupied by your friends, each of them watching as you sat down, pulling Eddie to sit beside you. Tension lingered in the air, thick and palpable.

Margret shifted uncomfortably, not with Eddie, but with the lingering secret she had sitting on the other side of the room, while Darcy was indifferent.

Jason and his friends gawked while Chrissy silently cheered you on.

Eddie could feel the weight of everyone's gazes, but he tried to ignore it, focusing his attention on you. He fidgeted with the rings on his hands, feeling more out of place by the minute.

He glanced across the cafeteria, catching sight of Jason and his group glaring at him. He could tell they weren't happy, probably mocking and jeering at the sight of him sitting with you.

Your eyes shot to Jason. "Get lost."

Jason scowled, clearly not expecting your sharp retort. The cocky expression on his face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, shooting back a cocky smirk. "Just surprised is all. Surprised you'd actually want the company of a freak like Munson."

"Get lost, Carver. You can go sit with the chess club or something, I don't care, just fuck off." You spat.

Jason scoffed, looking offended at the jab aimed at him and his friends. "We're more useful to this school than he'll ever be," he shot back, gesturing to Eddie. "You've got to be an idiot to think he's worth your time, he's a washed-up, drug dealer loser."

You didn't need to think twice, grabbing a handful of your spaghetti (props to the lunch lady) and hurled it at Jason. "Fuck off."

The spaghetti hit Jason square in the face, a messy splat of sauce and pasta clinging to his skin and shirt. He recoiled, a mix of shock and anger on his face as the cafeteria erupted in gasp and murmurs.

Jason's friends sat with eyes wide, jaws nearly on the floor as they watched the scene unfold. They looked stunned, unsure how to react.

Your eyes flicked to them. "You boys want a taste?" You asked, picking up your pudding cup next. The boys looked back at you, their expressions a mix of shock and uncertainty. None of them seemed eager to be hit with pudding, but they were too stunned to say anything.

Jason, however, was furious, wiping away the spaghetti mess on his face. "You are unbelievable." He seethed, his face red with anger and sauce.

"What was that? You want a meatball shoved down your jugular?" You almost growled.

Jason's eyes widened in alarm, his bravado faltering for a moment. Clearly, he hadn't anticipated that level of hostility from you.

He stood up, his hands raised in surrender. "You're insane," he retorted, moving away slowly. "Completely nuts."

"Oh, and you want carrot sticks up your ass?!"

The cafeteria let out a collective gasp, some of them giggling as they watched the heated exchange. Eddie stifled a laugh of his own, clearly enjoying the show.

Jason's face turned a shade of red that seemed almost unnatural. "You—!" He sputtered, trying and failing to come up with a retort.

"I think you should move along, Carver." Eddie said through a grin which he tried to hide behind his hair.

Jason was seething, his face still tomato red. For a moment, it looked like he might try to argue back, but the sight of both you and Eddie, along with the entire cafeteria watching them, made him back down.

He huffed, his eyes shooting daggers in your direction as he turned and stalked away, his friends trailing behind him.

You sighed, grabbing a serviette and wiping your hand. "Eddie, baby. Sit down, I'm coming back." You told him.

He nodded, still grinning broadly, clearly both surprised and entertained by your confrontation with Jason.

He sat down, still trying to hide his grin behind his bangs, watching as you began to walk off.

You weren't dumb, and you of course knew everything. It pained you that your best friend didn't tell you, but you were happy for her.

You walked over to Eddie's now old table, and went around to Gareth. "Clyde? James? You."

The boy looked up at you in surprise, unsure of what to expect after the scene you'd just caused. Gareth's eyes widened, and wouldn't tell you that you got his name wrong, again!

"Uh, yeah? What's up?" Gareth asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"Come. There's a seat open next to Margie," you gave him no time to reply before you turned to the rest of the boys. "I may not like all of you, still, and some of you may not like me," you eyed Dustin who hadn't said anything. "But, since I am dating your dearest friend, and I'm not a complete bitch, there are open seats at my table if you'd like to join, I know Eddie would be highly appreciative."

The boys exchanged glances, surprised by your invitation. They were still reeling from your confrontation with Jason, and now here you were, offering them a seat at your table.

Gareth spoke first, standing up with a small smirk. "Think Munson would hate our guts if we didn't join you." He said, picking up his tray.

The rest of the boys followed suit, some a bit hesitant, others curious about your unexpected gesture.

You gave him a small smile before you turned back around and walked back to your table, happily plopping down next to Eddie.

Eddie watched as the boys approached the table, a hint of surprise still flickering in his eyes. He looked at you, a little dumbfounded.

"Did you just... invite them to sit with us?" He asked, his voice tinged with shock and amusement.

You took his hand. "Yep, I don't want you to hate your life sitting here, baby." His expression softened, a small smile playing on his lips.

Eddie squeezed your hand appreciatively. "You're something else, you know that?"

The boys settled around the table, their eyes darting between you and Eddie, stilli trying to wrap their heads around the whole situation.

As the boys settled in, conversations started to flow more naturally. Eddie kept his arm around you, his thumb tracing circles on your shoulder.

The cafeteria, which moments before had been on the brink of chaos, now felt a bit more relaxed.

The lunch period passed quickly, the conversations at the table flowing smoothly. The tension that had hung in the air when you had invited the boys to sit had almost completely faded, replaced by a sense of familiarity and acceptance.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you looked over at Eddie. He leaned in, a lopsided grin on his lips, and whispered in your ear, "Who knew lunch could be so damn entertaining when you're around, princess?"

You turned to him. "I thought I was like, the devil or something?"

Eddie chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, you're most definitely the devil," he agreed, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. "But the kind of devil a man doesn't mind going to hell for."

And everything in that moment felt right, and Eddie knew, he just knew, that this was gonna be his year.

a.n: just wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged this super mini series (which was supposed to be one post) !! love you lots <3

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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