#beyond birthday x male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

surielstea · 5 months

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Don’t you like me?

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has been secretly in love with Eris since she was little, so what happens when she’s to be married off to another in a weeks time and he’s yet to make a move?

A/N: HEAVY smut. Like this is fr the filthiest thing I’ve ever published so hope all you freaks enjoy…

5.9k words

I walked into the dining hall dressed in a stunning gown made from a forest green material that was beyond soft. The bodice was snug and hugged me in all the right places, while the skirt cascaded down in a waterfall of silk, a high slit cutting through the side to show a flash of my leg. I looked like pure perfection.

"Eris," I call to the male who was standing by the window, peering down at the fields, watching over the land like some kind of higher power.

"Hm?" He utters but doesn't cast a glance my way, forming a gaping cavity in my chest.

"Do you like my dress?" I ask, he still doesn't look at me. His arms are crossed over his chest and I can see the tips of his fingers blazing like he's forcing himself to refrain from moving. "The shopkeeper said it looked pretty on me," I smile. "He said it was so perfect that he just had to give me a discount," I add and his ears perk up, head whipping to me. "He?" The protective male asks and a small smile forms on my lips. "At least he had the decency to look at me when I speak to him." I shrug and he bristles, eyes flicking up and down, taking in my dress, my bare leg peering through the slit, the golden earrings he got me for my birthday hanging from my lobes, hair pulled back and out of my face how I knew he liked.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He takes a step closer and I clasp my hands behind my back, staring up at him innocently. "I'm not sure what you mean, General." I flutter my lashes and a muscle along his jaw feathers.

"Bunny," He grits out and I only continue to stare up at him with curious eyes, the kind I knew made him stumble over his words. "My lord?" I ask with a wondering tone. He swallows thickly and then stones his features. "Are you ready for the ball?" He asks and I hold back from rolling my eyes and instead nod. "Are you?" I ask and he only replies with a sigh, his arm hooking through mine. "Let's get this over with." He muttered, then winnowed us into a crowded ballroom.

I've been trying to get Eris' attention since we were young, but he's always cast me off as a younger sister type, I refused to accept that, so I pushed his buttons. I was the daughter of Beron's most trusted advisor, this ball was put together in order to find me a suitor, every one of these men is here for my hand, I was hoping Eris did something before we got here, hoping he'd say something, anything. But he didn't. So we stood in the center of the ballroom and stared ahead of us at Beron who sat on his throne, my father at his side.

The both of them gave me foxlike grins and I gulped down the anxiety lodged in my throat, hand tightening around Eris' as we approached the dais.

"My lord," I curtsy to the high lord while Eris bows. "Rise girl, today is your day." He hums in a grating voice I've grown to hate. I flick my eyes back up to the eldest Vanserra and do as he says, Eris as well. "I cannot thank you enough for putting on this event for me, I'm beyond grateful," I say to him in a light tone, a polite grin on my face. My father hasn't so much as spared me a glance so I don't look at him either.

"Yes well, you've been of age for some time now haven't you?" He shifts in his throne as if his legs could spread any wider. "I have, my lord." I bow my head. "I have no doubt you'll be able to find an eligible suitor tonight, you look absolutely ravishing." He grins and that expression has never made me more nauseous. Eris' hand tightens on mine and I realize he's still holding it. "I've handpicked all of the males attending tonight, do me a favor, and don't let that work go to waste." He instructs and I nod, his eyes then fall between Eris and I, where our hands are linked. Eris reacts before I can even notice, his hand slipping from mine. My breath hitched for a moment and I turned to look up at him with slightly creased brows. His expression remains stoic as he continues to stare ahead, not daring to meet my gaze.

"Go on," Beron waves us away. I curtsy once more before spinning on my heel, expecting Eris to follow after me but he stayed behind, joining his father's other side on the dais. It was hard to watch so I didn’t look any longer and direction my line of sight to the sea of men waiting for my attention.

I ball my hands into fists before shaking them out as I stare at all the males with beckoning eyes, wanting to be picked for the first dance.

Traditionally I'd dance with the high lord, but the older male didn't seem to have an interest in upholding said tradition, so it was my pick. How generous.

My eyes snag on a head of strawberry-blonde hair in the back. Langdon, a fair-skinned male with piercing green eyes and a gangly figure, I've known him since I was a girl— had a crush on him since his family came into nobility. He was kind, or rather, as kind as they got in the Autumn Court. He wasn't looking my way, this was my ball and he still wasn't looking my way. Why is it that I always wanted men who hold no interest in me?

I look behind me to spot Eris already staring, his fingers anxiously twisting the golden ring around his pinky finger. One of his tells, that one specifically informed me that he was nervous. Over what? I had no idea, but some buried part of me wanted to place my hands over his and tell him there was nothing to worry about.

I shove the feeling down and turn back to the crowd of males who seemed to now stand a whole yard closer.

I was only thankful Beron didn't choose for me, or worse, my father.

Fortunately, Langdon was looking at me now. Our gazes catch and I give the slightest dip of my head. The males who understood they hadn't been picked dispersed, leaving Langdon and I parallel to each other.

The music begins and I remain where I stand, waiting for the male to approach me instead. Once he gets to my side he offers his hand and I take it with little hesitation, the chorus of the song starts and our waltz begins.

I've been trained my entire life for this, my father has made sure I was educated on every custom and tradition of how Autumn Court females must behave, should I step a toe out of line he'd be there to reprimand me, whether that meant physically or mentally.

I knew every dance like the back of my hand, memorized how each dress was hemmed, could do each house chore with my eyes closed, and recite exactly where my place was to anyone who asked— it's been beaten into me so many times it'd be a parody to forget. I belong beside my husband, raising his children. That was it. That's all I've been told I'm any good for.

"I won't ask for your hand," Langdon hums mid-step and I look up to him with curious eyes. I'd be lying if a pang of hurt didn't run through my chest. "And why not?" I ask, my dress swirling around me as he twirls me around. "I won't tie you down, I refuse." He shakes his head and my heart aches. "So you'll let someone else then?" I suggest and he swallows, clearly not thinking of the others. "It's not like that," He sighs. "You wouldn't be happy with me." He explains with guilt simmering in his eyes. "So you'll subject me to being unhappy with another just because of your own selfishness?" I presume and his brows raise a fraction. "No," He shakes his head. "I'll subject you to make your own decision because you're in love with another," He claims and my breathing halts for a moment.

I go quiet, silently taking myself through the steps I've been doing since I was a child. "I'm not sure what you mean." I finally manage to get out. "Oh c’mon, it's obvious to every male here except him." The blonde scoffs and I refrain from rolling my eyes, he is preaching to the choir.

"Even if you're right," The music stops and so do we. I stare up at him with an unwavering amount of elegance. "I can't have him," I whisper and he squares his features. "I won't tie you down." He repeats, believing he's doing me a favor by pulling himself from the equation. "I understand." I nod, even if I don't want to, then I curtsy one last time towards the male and take another's hand.

I went through at least ten more tedious males after that and nearly twenty tiresome waltzes before I was allowed a break. I loved to dance, sure, but not like this. Not in a ballroom full of predators. I miss when it was just Eris and me when he'd meet me here at midnight and we'd sway, following no choreography but rather flowing to the music, improvising to whatever song played. I could still feel the way his warm arms wrapped around me, how he cradled me to his chest while we talked softly about anything and everything. That was the Eris I knew, that was the Eris I loved. Not this mask made for the public, the one his father forced him to be.

I was startled from my daze by a hand coming to my forearm. I jump slightly and turn to the figure at my side. "Apologies for disturbing you, my lady," A brunette male I wish I could recall the name of stood before me. He was the sixth male I danced with, we waltzed three times if I remember correctly.

"No worries," I shake my head with a polite smile. "I've spoken to your father," He swallows nervously and I glance to the dais where Beron and my father were but Eris no longer was.

"He's consented to my asking for your hand," The male explains and my head snaps back to him, brows slightly raised. The brunette wasn't unattractive by any means, in fact, he was quite handsome, but he's not who I want him to be— guilt forms in my stomach at the thought. Langdon had been right.

A hand comes down onto my shoulder before I can think of a reply, but I don't startle this time. Because I could recognize that scent of warm cinnamon and campfire embers from anywhere, along with the feel of his large, calloused hand, the touch was beyond familiarity.

"Sorry to interrupt," A baritone voice purrs and my eyes light up. "But I need to borrow her for a moment," His hand slides down my arm protectively and I have to hold back from scoffing, he had the nerve to ignore me all night but as soon as another male shows interest, he comes over to claim me.

"Of course my lord," The brunette bows his head respectfully. "Go on then," He shoos and I whirl around to face the heir as the other male skitters away. "Are you serious?" I cross my arms over my chest, staring up at the redhead who had a smirk plastered onto his features. "That's the first proposal I've gotten all night!" I say with a hush and his smirk only widens. "Oh I know, you have no idea how hard it is to fend them off." He grumbled like it was a weight on his shoulders. My eyes widen as I stare at him in shock. "Are you kidding— What's the point of this event if you're scaring off every interested suitor?" I crease my brows, hands dropping to my hips.

Eris' head whips to the dais where both of our fathers are intently watching us. "C'mon," The heir grabs me by my wrist. "We need somewhere private." He decides, pulling me through the length of the ballroom, my protests are halfhearted, not minding the idea of getting away from this place. He pulled us into a sectioned-off alcove that was secluded enough for him to winnow us elsewhere.

My feet landed on dark wooden tiles, stood in the master bedroom of Eris' apartment on the outskirts of Autumn that not even Beron knew about.

"Why are you fending them off?" I question, narrowing my eyes at him skeptically. He shrugs with a stoic expression, looking towards the unlit fireplace at our right. "The people my father picked," He starts. "None of them can be good." He explains and I grit my teeth. "He picked Langdon." I excuse and Eris nearly growls at the name. "Langdon is a prick and he doesn't deserve you," Eris states like it's a fact. "He's nice to me," I mutter softly. "The bare minimum isn't something you should settle for." His brows straighten and something evil churns in the pit of my stomach. "Well, it's not like I have many options." I square my features, glaring up at him and maintaining my ground.

He hasn’t done anything up until now and as soon as I show any fraction of interest in someone else he comes to swoop me away? It was unfair. He doesn't reply, his fists clench at his sides but they quickly loosen when he sees the line of tears in my waterline threatening to spill. "You think I want to marry any of these males? It's not my choice, it's never been my choice." My hands come up to his chest, gripping the cleanly pressed shirt. "You've always had a choice," His hands come to my wrists. I nearly laugh. "Are you serious? Who are you to tell me about choices? You have no idea what it's like to be a fucking doll Eris, I'm a broodmare who's only used for my body and when that's not good enough anymore, I'm nothing." My words come out in a rasp, my fingers clenching his shirt and wrinkling it.

"Don't stand there and tell me I have a choice when you've done nothing to stop me from getting sold off to the highest bidder." My tears are now falling but I don't care, I have too little energy to wipe them away— so he does, his warm hands I wish I didn't find comfort in come to my cheeks and his thumbs brush away the salty tears with the most delicacy I've ever seen him display. "If you won't do anything now I strongly doubt you'll do anything when I'm someone else's," I murmur and his eyes fall into something of terror.

"I'm sorry." He confesses and my heart sputters, I've only ever heard Eris Vanserra apologize for two things in his lifetime, and this was one of them. "You’re right. I should've done more." He confesses. "I tried," He mutters. "I offered to sleep with you— they'd mark you as impure and banish you from the forest house, you could've run away." He explains. "But that's not enough, I should've done more." His hands remain on my cheeks. "Don't you get it?" My hands splay flat on his abdomen. "I don't want more, I just wanted you," I confess and his breathing halts. I think I've truly done myself in, but there was no use holding it any longer. I'll be married off by the end of the week and probably won't see Eris again until our separate children are having playdates. None of this mattered.

"What?" He croaks out and I swallow. "I wanted you," I repeated and I swore his eyes flashed with relief. His hands remain on my face, fingertips slightly warming as he dissects his thoughts. "I thought I made it obvious," I say. "But you never did anyth—" My words are cut off as his lips crash into mine with a foreign passion.

His hands pull me closer and my breathing stops as I realize what's happening. He's kissing me. I move to kiss him back, hands snaking up from his chest and to his shoulders where I wrap around the back of his neck and pull him closer, his chest pressing into mine as he backs me up towards the wall until I'm flat against it.

He doesn't back away for a moment like he needs the heat of my lips or he'll freeze without it. His brows crease as he kisses me with intent, not wanting this moment to end in case it gets torn away from him.

"Eris," I pant out as I back away. "I thought you hated me," I admit and his eyes soften. "Hate you?" His hands hold tighter to my jaw. "No bunny, never." His head shakes and he pulls me in again, placing a soft yet lasting kiss on my lips. "Wait," I back away and he immediately halts. "What are you saying?" I try to piece everything together but it's no use.

"I want you." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. "Want me?" I rasp out in pure disbelief. "Need you." He corrects and my heart lurches into my throat, his lips reconnect with mine, and this time his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, hands coming to the bottoms of my thighs as he hoists me up and presses my back to the wall, legs coming back to wrap tightly around his hips as his tongue explores every undiscovered crook and crevice like he needed to memorize me before I disappeared.

"Eris we can't," I whisper into his lips and he shakes his head. "I won't let them have you." He defends and my heart crumbles into two. "This is going to ruin me," I admit, tears still streaming from my eyes. "We'll figure it out." He promises and a lump forms in my throat. He backs away to look at my teary expression, brows creasing as he stares at my disgruntled gaze. "I'll be banished from this court," I murmur. As much as I hated the people here, this is my home. I didn't want to just up and leave. "Noble blood or not I'll be marked a whore, it's out of wedlock." I sighed and a soft smile graced his features as he began to pepper kisses along the side of my face, kissing my salty tears away. "I suppose we'll have to get married then." He hums and I place my hand on his jaw pushing him back. "I'll have Beron off his throne soon, the night court's Spymaster and I have already devised a plan. It'll work." He reassures, running his hand through my hair.

"I'll marry you right now, we can go out and find a priestess and I'll have you as my High Lady." He promised and my brows crease as he describes something too good to be true. "Or we can do all that in the morning," He whispers. "Because it's awfully hard to not need you while you're in this dress." He hums and I smile, my tears gone, all kissed away. "I won't let them have you." He repeats, stressing his words, and I believe him, so I nod.

His lips surge back onto mine and I push away the thoughts of the repercussions and let myself enjoy every moment of this.

His hands grip the underside of my thighs and he pushes me harder against the wall, pressing his chest to mine and kissing me with the purpose I craved. I tighten my hold around the back of his neck and wrap my legs around him, my dress in the way— I need him closer, so much closer.

"Eris, please," I whine and he nods, understanding what I want. He pushes off the wall and carries me to his bed, laying me down on my back, I arch up and his hands pull at the strings of my corset. So many layers, too many between us. I work at the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing his toned, muscular chest.

The way he kissed me was hungry like he's been constraining himself for far too long. He gets my corset undone and I finally feel like I can breathe. Clothes are thrown into every corner of the room as he rips my skirts off and I move to the ties of his pants. Once we're clad in nothing but skin he mounts over me, his heavy, hard cock pressing against my abdomen. It was hot and quick and had everything I needed.

His hand cups over my heat, calloused fingers diving into my folds, adding friction I didn't know I needed. "Eris," I whine and he grunts at the way my name rolls off his tongue, the desperation in my voice making his cock leak pre-cum. "Fuck, you sound so perfect moaning my name." He sighs out, two of his long fingers finding my entrance, and before I can reply they plunge deep inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes due to the foreign stretch. His fingers were long, and thick, and felt so fucking good.

I yelped as his calloused thumb came down onto my clit, tracing tight circles around it. I hissed at the pain, how he stretched me out, preparing me for his cock. “I’m sorry bunny, I’ll make love to you next time I promise,” He whispers into the shell of my ear and I whimper, the intense feeling consuming me as he curls his fingers, flicking them against my sensitive walls. “Next time?” I ask my words barely a rasp. “That’s right,” He kisses my cheek, getting rid of a tear there. “But right now I need to fuck you, I’ve wanted this for so fuckin’ long I can’t hold back,” He grunts, his voice laced with pure lust. “You understand don’t you bunny?” He says, kissing down my jaw to my neck where he nipped at the sensitive skin, all I can do is nod, praying he doesn’t stop.

His fingers brush over a sensitive, spongy spot and I gasp, my back involuntarily arching at the feeling. “Right there, Eris, my god—” My breath hitched as he toyed with the area. My legs jolted and I was so close, I had never orgasmed off someone’s hand alone before yet here the heir was, finger fucking me right into my high.

“That’s it, baby, need you nice and wet for me,” He hums, sucking marks onto my neck. I whine and my cunt pulsated with an impending release. My nails dig into his large bicep, brows creasing as I teeter on that euphoric high. I clench tighter around his fingers and he does something wicked with his thumb against my clit, pushing me over into my orgasm. Waves of pleasure slam into me as I finally release and reach that climax, and when I do, it’s Eris’ name on my lips.

“That’s it, you did so well,” He praises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I finally came down from my high and his fingers slowed, pulling them from my entrance, lathered in my slick. “Think you’re ready for me?” He asks, lathering his cock with my arousal left on his hand. Words fail me. I couldn’t even look at it without feeling overwhelmed, I was sure he’d split me in half.

“We can go slow,” He promised but gods I didn’t want slow, I wanted to make him feel good.

I shook my head and he arched his brow. “No?” He tilts his head. “I don’t w’na go slow, Eris,” I murmur and he leans closer, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Oh yeah? Tell me what you want then bunny,” He prompts, nudging me with his nose to go on— but his cock was pressed against my heat and it was hot, so fucking hot I felt like I was on fire. “Want— wanna make you feel good,” I mumble and a foxlike grin spreads across his face. His forearm comes down beside my head, propping himself above me, his face mere inches from mine. “Do you now?” The male asks. “And how are you g’na make me feel good?” He questions and I swallow thickly. “Uhm,” I utter, suddenly very shy under his gaze. “Don’t be nervous, I’m not gonna judge I promise,” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Well— it’s just, usually on wedding nights in the autumn court the male feels compulsive to, breed, the female,” I swallow thickly and I swear his amber eyes flash golden for a moment.

“Is that what you want bunny? Want me to breed you?” He says and I flush hot. “Never mind, forget it,” I bring my hands up to my face, covering my red cheeks. “Oh baby it’s too late,” He grabs my wrists in one of his hands, lifting them above my head and pinning them there commandingly. I whimper in reply. “Your safe word is firelight okay?” He says as he kisses down my neck and all I can do is nod. “Good, now turn around for me,” He lets go of my wrists and I do as he says, flipping over onto my stomach, hiking my knees up, and arching my back as much as I could, giving him perfect entrance. He grinned at my obedience, patience waning as he admired how good I was being for him.

The unlit hearth from earlier was now roaring with flames, even though I told Eris to do whatever he wanted with me he was still holding back, redirecting his power elsewhere.

“C’mon Eris, don’t be mean,” I whine as he leans over me, pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder blade. “Poor bunny, so needy,” He whispers beside my ear and I grip the sheets in my fists at the demeaning tone of his voice. “Please,” I murmur. “Please what? Say it, baby,” His hands come to my hips, his thumbs kneading the plushness of my ass. “Breed me,” I utter, barely even a whisper but it was enough to make whatever was restraining his break, and he snapped.

His heavy cock slaps against my folds, dragging himself through them, lathering himself in my arousal for easier entrance though I’m certain I was wet enough already.

He aligns his fat tip with my core and without any further warning, he drives into me, pushing the head of his impressive cock deep inside of me. I nearly screamed at the sensation, biting at my lower lip hard enough to cause blood. “Eris,” I mewl, my nails clawing at the sheets. One of his hands reaches over me and intertwines with the back of my palm, his other hand finding purchase at my breast, gripping it harshly, his calloused, large hands kneading it pleasantly.

“Fuck, you’re so gods’ damned tight,” He curses, his forehead resting against the back of my shoulder as he continues to push himself inside of me, and fuck was he so big, I could feel my walls hugging him, could feel every ridge and vein along him as he molded into me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at how good it hurt, he had me filled to the brim and there was still more of him.

I throw my head back in exasperation, a moan escaping from the base of my throat. “All of you, want more,” I confess and I feel him smile against the skin of my shoulder blade, before he angles his hips back, pulling out to his fat tip, laying one last kiss to my back then slamming in, hitting home. He groaned at the feeling, tears streamed down my face, falling onto the pillow beneath me as I grip his hand tighter, he reciprocates it but his thrusts don’t slow, no, he’s pounding into me and I loved every second of it.

“Eris— Ah,” My breath hitched. “I can’t, s’too much,” I hiss but he doesn’t stop, his hips drive deeper and I pulse around him. His base slammed into mine, tight balls smacking into my folds as he hammered me from behind. I gasp as his slit brushes over my cervix. Oxygen leaves me and I fist the sheets, screaming his name once I find my voice. “You feel that bunny? Feel me stretching you on my cock?” He hums beside my ear and I struggle to even think about anything but his cock.

He can’t help but continue to knock the area over and over again, it made him feral, and the way I squirmed beneath him had his cock twitching.

Gods he was so close to my womb, so close he could practically release directly into it. “I’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ full, baby,” He grits out, his hold on my breast tightening. “Please,” I beg, needing him to release me inside. “I’m so close I can’t, I can’t take it—” I cry, tears free flowing as his thrusts grow faster, harder. “That’s too bad my sweet girl,” He purred. “Cause you’re g’na take me until you’re full of my cum, isn’t that right bunny?” He nips at the lobe of my ear and I nod with a pitiful whimper, feeling myself drip onto his cock, he was fucking me stupid.

The sound of his fat cock injecting into me over and over again mixed with the way his tight balls slapped against my folds left my pussy drooling on him. “You just love to milk my cock hm?” He said. “You take me so well, can’t wait to get you so full,” He grunts out and I grow hot, the knot in my stomach tightening.

“Eris I have to, I need to,” I pant out, sweat lining my forehead at how good he was slamming into me, pressing against my cervix every time and rubbing against that sweet, spongy spot. “Not yet,” He orders, and I whine in protest, brows furrowing as I fight off my orgasm and focus on pleasing him, squeezing around his cock, slowly beginning to lift away from him, then push myself back down onto him.

“Oh gods, yes, fuck yourself on my cock,” He groaned in pure ecstasy. I go faster, feeling his cock twitch as he watches the way my ass shakes, his cock disappearing inside my slit as I bounce on him. “Such a good bunny, just want me to come inside you so bad huh?” He taunts and I nod helplessly, mewls lifting from my lips as he grips my breast, my other bouncing due to my gyrations. “Ah, wait, baby,” His voice gets caught in his throat and I smile wildly at the sound. “You sure? About me cumming inside?” He grits out through closed teeth and I nod.

“Fuck yes, Eris. Give me your kids please,” I whimper and it makes him fucking feral. He somehow goes faster, reaching a primal state with an urge to breed, to make me mine in every way he can. “Your belly’s g’na get so round,” He mutters into the shell of my ear and I pant in reply, unable to form coherent words. “Fuck, can’t wait for your tits to start leaking,” He curses and a moan tears through the base of my throat. “I can’t— I’m gonna—” I can’t even finish my sentence before I’m convulsing around him and I reach my climax. He’s quick to follow, he kisses my cervix once more then shoots his release straight into my womb, panting heavily with a groan to match my whine, he paints my walls white and his seed was so fucking hot, like he just set me aflame from the inside out.

“Fuck,” He grunts out, forehead resting on my shoulder. It was a miracle I was still holding myself up, my arms were on the verge of buckling and if he wasn’t cradling my waist I probably would’ve crumbled the moment I found release.

Slowly, he slips out of me, his seed dripping down my thighs as he does so. A whimper slips past my quivering lips as his cock brushes through my folds one last time, then he slowly guides me down onto the bed, heavy breathing filling the room as the fire in the hearth dwindles.

“You did so fucking good for me baby,” He praises, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips that I return with all the energy I can muster, which wasn’t a whole lot. He smiles at this, brushing a strand of hair away from my tear-stained cheeks. “Awe, m’sorry I went so rough bunny, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” He reassured and I shook my head. “No, s’okay, felt good,” I sigh contentedly. “Yeah?” He tilts his head and I nod with a gentle smile. “My gods you’re perfect for me,” He bends down and presses his lips to mine, more passionate this time, conveying all his love in that action. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He murmurs against my lips and I nod, not worrying about what awaits in that ballroom, too preoccupied with enjoying the moment with my soon-to-be husband.

After the sheets were changed and I was dressed in a silky nightgown I was finally able to lay my head on a pillow. It was a mystery how I didn’t fall asleep standing up. Eris slid beneath the covers beside me, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to him with a small grin.

“Tonight turned out a lot better than I thought,” He joked and I giggled, looking up at him with tired eyes. I look down at his chest, tracing random shapes on his bicep as my smile slowly morphs into a frown. “Hey, what’s wrong baby?” His big hand comes to my jaw, rubbing along my cheek and tilting my head up to him. “Nothing,” I shake my head, burrowing into his warmth. “Talk to me,” He urges, waiting for my response. “Why didn’t you ever show interest before tonight?” I ask softly, glancing up at his eyes that were staring down at me with so much adoration it was almost overwhelming.

“This just feels so surreal, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. It feels wrong to have it,” I explain further and his gaze softens. “You deserve my love and so much more my sweet,” He presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head. “And I couldn’t show any interest 'cause I didn’t want my father taking you away from me,” He confesses and I swallow thickly, my hand intertwining with his. “He won’t take me,” I promise, even if I didn’t know for certain. “No, he won’t, I know that now,” He reassures, pecking my cheek lovingly and I blush.

“My pretty fiancée,” He grins boyishly and I mirror it, finally being with the male I’ve been in love with for decades, I had him in my arms and I wasn’t going to let him go no matter what force tried to take him from me. I’m his as he is mine, and that’s all I could ask for.

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barnacles34 · 18 days

Text

Only You (Ryujin x Male Reader)

Tags: 12k, Obedient Ryujin, Smut, Smut with Plot, Mutual Pining, Reunion, Existential Crisis, Confident Protagonist, Emotional Complexity, Exploration of Idol Work Culture, Mild Alcoholism

This is kind of a prequel to Beautiful Relationship, I even wrote this one before Beautiful Relationship (thus the quality, I believe, is worse), but all my smuts (foreshadowing) are stand-alone. I tried editing this to the best of my ability, hopefully it is as well received as Beautiful Relationship.

---

The labyrinthine corridors of Samsen Company echo with the whispers of a typical blood feud, a battle for majority stock that has raged pointlessly. And yet, I stand atop this corporate Olympus, an adopted child of supposedly 'middling' potential, now orchestrating a behemoth bureaucracy from the confines of a messy, decrepit office room in my sprawling estate. The irony isn't lost on me that only the office room nearest the entrance truly feels like home.

My 26th birthday dawned, a day that should have been a personal milestone, instead became a crucible of insufferable drama. My 'brothers,' those parasitic entities I can barely stomach, the sycophantic beggars I despise, and the so-called friends whose very presence grates on my nerves – all converged like vultures to a carcass. As I extricate myself from my forcibly invaded sanctuary, I allow my gaze to drift over the manicured landscape, pointedly ignoring the fumbling private investigators who've abandoned all pretense of subtlety in their ravenous pursuit of compromising intelligence.

I exist in a state of emotional limbo – neither depressed nor elated. I've reached the zenith of my capabilities, my natural introversion honed into a weapon of corporate warfare. The room I've claimed as my citadel, locked against all intrusion, is the crucible where I forged my majority ownership of Samsen. It's my den, my haven, the only place where the cacophony of the outside world fades to a bearable whisper.

I don't venture out for something as mundane as a cigarette or to ruminate on 'innovative' ideas (a laughable concept – my success stems not from innovation but from an uncanny ability to accumulate and wield power). No, as I step beyond my threshold, my mind is a tabula rasa, momentarily free from the incessant calculations that usually occupy it. Yet, as the cool air hits my face, I find myself inadvertently delving into the labyrinth of my past, present, and the myriad potential futures stretching before me. Some intangible force, a siren call I can neither name nor resist, beckons me towards the unknown, towards a life I've never dared to imagine.

---

The memory of my adoption by Mishima, the venerable chairman of Samsen, surfaces unbidden. I was 14, newly orphaned, my parents having departed this mortal coil in quick succession. Mishima's explanation for taking me in was deceptively simple – right time (he was pushing 70), right place (his hometown), and a third reason uttered so softly it's become a lifelong enigma, a puzzle I still turn over in my mind during sleepless nights.

Our relationship defied easy categorization. He was never a father figure, more a mentor, a guiding star in the treacherous waters of corporate politics. When I aced the aptitude tests and CSAT, I put on a show of wanting to enlist in the military before settling into a cozy Samsen sinecure. But it was all smoke and mirrors, a carefully crafted lie concealing my true ambition – to ascend to the executive echelons of Samsen.

Mishima, ever the puppet master, saw through my machinations instantly. With a smile that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages, he said, "Before you become an executive, you should get better at lying in people's faces." That night, I was christened as an Executive-to-be, my position awaiting me post-military service.

But even my Machiavellian mind couldn't have predicted the earthquake that was Mishima's inheritance letter. To be named heir-apparent alongside my two 'brothers' sent shockwaves through the Eastern hemisphere. An adopted child, thrust into the limelight, my past carefully obfuscated by my new family to mask the true extent of my capabilities.

---

As the memories fade, I find myself pondering the possibility that I'm not just tired of work, but of the very fabric of my existence. I crave a distraction so profound it would eclipse even the most insufferable company. With a decision born of impulse rather than reason, I orchestrate a day of frivolity.

The following morning finds me chauffeured to a waterpark I've rented for my exclusive use. The experience proves disappointingly hollow, each splash and slide a stark reminder of the void within. Undeterred, I embark on a frenetic tour of Seoul, each new locale failing to scratch the existential itch that seems to grow with every passing moment.

---

It's in this state of restless dissatisfaction that a name bubbles up from the recesses of my memory – Ryujin. The mere thought of her sends an unfamiliar tremor through my usually imperturbable demeanor. We were inseparable once, the suburbs of Seoul our playground, our bond seemingly unbreakable. But that was before the adoption, before life carved its divergent paths for us.

Twelve years have passed, each of us climbing our respective mountains of success. Yet, as I stand before the stadium, a maelstrom of emotions I thought long buried threatens to overwhelm me. I'm almost late, almost nervous, almost... happy? The unfamiliarity of the sensation is both thrilling and terrifying.

My arrival causes the expected commotion, ripples of shock spreading through the crowd like wildfire. But for once, I find I don't care about the attention. My focus narrows to a singular purpose – watching ITZY perform. After an eternity of jostling bodies and exclamations of surprise, I'm finally ensconced in my front-row seat, an island of luxury hastily constructed amidst the chaos.

As I settle into the chair, the full weight of my nervousness becomes palpable. Every sensation is heightened – the plush fabric beneath my fingers, the unyielding rigidity of the table before me, the oppressive weight of the air in this crowded arena. My usual mask of indifference slips, revealing a vulnerability I thought I'd long since excised.

---

The performance unfolds like a fever dream, a symphony of movement and sound that both captivates and unsettles me. I watch the ITZY members with a mixture of admiration and envy – their fierce dedication to their craft, the seamless fusion of dance, visuals, and music. It's a spectacle that should fill me with satisfaction, yet I'm left with a lingering sense of disappointment. The void within remains stubbornly unfilled.

As the final notes fade and the crowd's roar subsides, I find myself rooted to my seat, mind whirling. The luxurious leather suddenly feels like a straitjacket, the weight of my position as an executive a millstone around my neck. I'm struck by the absurd thought that this gnawing emptiness might be nothing more than a placebo effect, a phantom pain born from the crucible of my nightmarish birthday and the constant strain of tolerating those I despise.

My reverie is interrupted by the approach of a man who exudes an air of exaggerated politeness. He relays an invitation to the ITZY dressing rooms with such ceremony you'd think he was delivering a royal decree. Something inside me snaps – the carefully constructed facade of the 'genius' executive crumbles, revealing the raw, emotionally stunted individual beneath. I ignore the man, my feet carrying me towards the dressing rooms of their own volition. My mind, usually a finely tuned instrument of analysis, now overclocks, dissecting every possible outcome of this impulsive action.

The journey through the backstage labyrinth is a sensory assault. The suffocating atmosphere of the stadium gives way to a cloying sweetness that grows more potent with each step. I follow this olfactory breadcrumb trail, my heart thundering in my chest with an intensity that would alarm me if I weren't so single-mindedly focused on my goal.

At last, I stand before the door. My knuckles barely graze the surface before it swings open, revealing a stunningly beautiful woman with vibrant orange hair. Her eyes widen in recognition, a mix of excitement and trepidation evident in her voice as she exclaims, "Welcome Koji-nim!"

I mumble pleasantries, feeling suddenly out of my depth as I step into the room. The ITZY members, now dressed in casual attire, bow nervously, their practiced professionalism cracking under the weight of my unexpected presence. But all of this fades to background noise as my eyes lock onto Ryujin.

She bows with a grace that belies her nervousness, her doe-like eyes carefully avoiding my intense gaze. Her black hair, still damp from the performance, frames her face in a way that speaks of careful styling even in its apparent dishevelment. Her skin, a creamy canvas that seems to glow with the lingering energy of her performance, peeks through the airy, wrinkled fabric of her clothes. The subtle interplay of concealment and revelation is mesmerizing.

I'm vaguely aware that I'm staring, my pupils dilated to the point where the other members exchange confused glances, uncertain of the sudden tension in the room. But Ryujin knows. She feels the weight of my gaze, understands the unspoken currents of our shared history.

"Ryujin," I breathe, the name a prayer and a curse on my lips.

She finally meets my eyes, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in their depths. "Koji... it's been a long time."

The air crackles with unspoken words, shared memories, and the weight of twelve years of silence. The other members watch our interaction with a mixture of confusion and fascination, sensing the undercurrents but unable to decipher their meaning.

As the initial shock wears off, we fall into a semblance of normalcy. Pleasantries are exchanged, names are shared, and I find myself being drawn into the warm camaraderie of the group. They reveal their upcoming monthly break, a respite after their grueling world tour. My limited knowledge of the K-pop world extends only to the scandals of overwork, so I find myself oddly relieved at the thought of their well-deserved rest.

The conversation meanders, touching on various topics, until it culminates in an unexpected invitation to join their world tour celebration. I accept without hesitation, surprising even myself with my eagerness.

As we make our way to the celebration venue, carefully avoiding main roads to evade the ever-present threat of paparazzi and private investigators, I find myself ruminating on the absurdity of my situation. I, Koji, possibly the busiest person in the world, yet somehow finding time for everything. The irony isn't lost on me.

The fear of private investigators that once plagued me now seems almost laughable. I've become so entrenched in South Korea's infrastructure that any move against me would be tantamount to domestic terrorism – or so the political board assures me. The thought elicits a sardonic chuckle, the absurdity of my life hitting me anew.

We arrive at our destination, a traditional building that exudes an air of quiet opulence. The owner herself greets us, leading us to a private room that seems worlds away from the bustling city outside. As we enter, the emphasis on traditional aesthetics is immediately apparent, demanding a level of respect and decorum that even I, in my usual state of detached amusement, feel compelled to honor.

We shed our shoes and take our places around the low table, sitting cross-legged on plush cushions. I note with a mixture of irritation and intrigue that while Yeji has positioned herself next to me, Ryujin sits diagonally across. The arrangement irks me more than it should, and I find myself stealing glances at Ryujin when I think she isn't looking.

The arrival of food and drink signals the start of the celebration in earnest. Soju and whiskey flow freely, the ingredients of forgetfulness laid out before us like a tempting feast. The ITZY members' eyes light up at the sight, their excitement palpable.

"Are you usually this excited to drink?" I ask, unable to keep a hint of amusement from my voice.

Yuna, the youngest, pipes up with an enthusiasm that's both endearing and slightly alarming. "Well, nothing helps the soul breathe more after months of being abroad and weeks working more hours than Elon Musk does in the office than a couple of bottles!"

The other members playfully scold her for her candor, but I find myself warming to their dynamic. Despite the obvious nervousness that still lingers beneath the surface, there's a genuineness to their interactions that I find oddly comforting.

As the night progresses and the alcohol flows, the conversation becomes more animated. We discuss our respective careers, our histories, and a myriad of other topics. I notice with a mix of professional admiration and personal concern that the ITZY members seem remarkably resistant to the effects of the alcohol, despite having consumed significantly more than I have.

It's in this atmosphere of lowered inhibitions that Ryujin finally breaks her relative silence. I've been aware of the concerned glances the other members have been throwing her way, as if her quiet demeanor is out of character.

"Did you know Koji Oppa and I were–" she begins, only to be cut off by a whispered warning from Yeji about the use of honorifics. I turn to Yeji, intending to ask for clarification, only to be struck by the intense blush coloring her cheeks. The other members, quick to pick up on the situation, begin teasing Yeji mercilessly.

Ryujin clears her throat and continues, "Did you know Koji-nim and I were childhood best friends?"

The revelation is met with surprise from the others, who look between us with newfound interest. There's a moment of hesitation, the weight of our shared history hanging in the air, before Ryujin and I begin to piece together the story of our upbringing.

As we talk, I feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The barrier that had existed between us – built of years of silence and divergent paths – begins to crumble. The others, sensing this change, relax into the conversation, their earlier nervousness giving way to genuine curiosity and warmth.

Yuna, emboldened by alcohol and the more relaxed mood, turns to me with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey sunbaenim, why are you so handsome, even though you're a chairman?"

The question catches me off guard, my usual sharp retorts failing me in the face of such unexpected forwardness. I scoff and take another bite of food, buying time as I try to formulate a response.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Ryujin glaring at Yuna, her eyebrows tied with irritation. The younger girl immediately wilts under the look, adopting a sulking posture that speaks volumes about the group's dynamics. It's fascinating to me how a single glance can convey so much between them.

As the night wears on, the effects of the alcohol become more pronounced. Soon, everyone except me is in various states of inebriation, heads lolling and arms thrown around each other as they burst into spontaneous song.

In this haze of alcohol and nostalgia, Ryujin turns to me, all pretense of formality abandoned. "Hey! Why haven't you contacted me? I used to send an endless amount of messages waiting for your response after I was done being a trainee, waiting for your response, and don't say that you changed your phone number because it's clearly the same and it even lights up your phone just now when I texted you!"

Her words, slurred but pointed, catch me off guard. For perhaps the first time in my adult life, I find myself at a loss for words. The carefully constructed walls I've built around myself suddenly feel paper-thin in the face of her raw honesty.

"I... I wanted to reinvent myself," I finally manage, the words feeling hollow even as I speak them. "To bury the past."

The effect of my words is immediate and heartbreaking. Tears well up in Ryujin's eyes, and in that moment, I'm struck by the realization of how much I must have meant to her. The thought that I, in my single-minded pursuit of success, might have caused her pain is unexpectedly distressing.

But the moment passes quickly, swept away by the infectious energy of the group. Soon, they're on their feet, performing elaborate choreographies despite their inebriated state. I watch in amazement, marveling at their skill and dedication even in such a compromised state.

As the night draws to a close, I'm faced with an unexpected dilemma. The ITZY team has departed, leaving the members without a way home. In a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity, I decide to take them to my alternate penthouse nearby.

The journey is a comedy of errors, with me attempting to wrangle five drunk K-pop stars into my chauffeur-driven car. As we ascend in the elevator, my arms full with the most inebriated members, Yeji and Yuna, a cascade of more sensible plans floods my mind. The irony of my situation isn't lost on me. But it's too late for regrets now.

I manage to navigate each member to a separate bedroom, where they immediately succumb to exhaustion. As I close the last door, I turn to find Ryujin waiting on the couch, her eyes heavy-lidded but alert.

"Why does this home feel like it hasn't had anyone living in it at all?" she asks, her gaze sweeping across the immaculate, impersonal space.

I pause, considering my words carefully. "Because I bought these homes thinking that the bigger size would make me happy, but I just end up staying in one room all day."

Her response is immediate and cutting. "Huh... you really must be out of your mind."

I scoff, both amused and slightly stung by her blunt assessment. As I help her to the master bedroom – a decision I'll later attribute to the alcohol's influence – I'm acutely aware of the warmth of her body against mine, the subtle scent of her perfume mingling with the lingering aroma of soju.

As she settles onto the bed, her voice takes on a softer, almost vulnerable tone. "Please hug me."

The request catches me off guard. "Why?"

"Pay me back for all the years you've neglected me."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. "Didn't you stop texting me?"

"Because you ignored me for two years!" The pain in her voice is palpable. "What was I supposed to do? Text you for two more years? Would that ingrain in you the idea that I valued our friendship!?"

As she weeps silently into the luxury tapestry, her oversized button-up shirt and pantyhose creating a strangely alluring silhouette against the expensive bedcover, I'm struck by the complexity of our shared history. The years of silence, the unspoken longing, the paths that diverged only to converge again in this moment – it all comes crashing down on me.

Despite my usual aversion to physical contact, I find myself drawn to her. I climb onto the bed and wrap my arms around her from behind, inhaling her scent one last time before succumbing to exhaustion.

---

I awake alone, the lingering warmth on the sheets the only evidence of Ryujin's presence. The distant sound of clattering draws me from the room, my feet carrying me to the balcony overlooking the living room. The sight that greets me is unexpected – Ryujin in the kitchen, the air filled with the aroma of a home-cooked breakfast.

As I descend the stairs, the other members quickly apologize for their irresponsibility the night before. Their earnest attempts to make amends – cleaning the rooms, preparing breakfast, even stocking the fridge – are both touching and amusing. I find myself imagining, with a hint of sardonic humor, how these globally successful idols would fare as my personal staff.

After they leave, I savor the breakfast Ryujin prepared, each bite a reminder of a simpler time. As the day progresses, I find myself utilizing more of the penthouse than I have in years. The library, once a showpiece, becomes a sanctuary as I lose myself in classic literature. It's a luxury I'd forgotten I needed, especially after working 365 days last year and nearly every day this year. The irony of my negotiated "optional" work life isn't lost on me – even if I hadn't shown up for a decade, my position as chairman would remain secure due to my overwhelming support in the company.

At 7 PM, the doorbell's chime breaks the peaceful silence. Expecting the cleaning staff, I'm surprised to find Ryujin at the door, a hefty bag in her arms and dressed in what appears to be pajamas.

"What are you doing here, Ryujin?" I ask, unable to keep a note of curiosity from my voice.

Her response is typically direct. "We finally reunited for the first time in 12 years and we're just gonna act like that's a small thing?"

She pushes past me, her determination evident. "Let me in! Let's watch a movie and catch up some more, and don't say we already caught up... despite being drunk, I knew most of what you were saying was corpo-talk, you freaking alien."

"Ah... you crazy lady," I mutter, but there's no real annoyance in my tone.

As she makes herself at home, pulling out an array of fermented vegetables from her bag, I can't help but ask, "First of all, why?"

"Because your fridge looks sadder than a divorced and broke 50-year-old," she retorts. Then, more softly, "And because I can tell that you need a female to care for you."

The statement catches me off guard, and I find myself strangely touched by her concern. To cover my momentary vulnerability, I tease her, "What happened to yesterday's Ryujin, who was as timid as a flower and couldn't even look me in the eyes even when blasted?"

My words seem to have an unexpected effect, causing her to retreat into herself slightly. But she continues her self-appointed task, quietly arranging the vegetables and asking permission to use the fridge. As I watch her, a memory surfaces – her family's vegan kimchi, a specialty due to seafood allergies. The fact that I remember such a detail after all these years is surprising.

"Hey, I got some expensive ass whiskey," I offer, an olive branch of sorts. "Let's eat those fermented vegetables and watch a movie."

She looks at me, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "How did you know I liked whiskey?"

"Observations," I reply, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of my mouth.

Her cheeks color slightly, and she turns away, busying herself with the food. "You know, you act like you've changed and abandoned the past, yet you seem even more strikingly original. You've still got your crazy brain itching to check under every rock, your handsome face, your dark stare..." She trails off, her blush deepening. "I'll cook some side dishes, you pick out the movie."

As she cooks, we fall into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, catching up on the years we've missed. The ease with which we interact is both familiar and new, a testament to the strength of our childhood bond and the people we've become.

Later, as we settle on the couch to watch "Chungking Express," Ryujin begins to lean into me, her body warm against my side. Without thinking, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she nestles into the crook of my neck.

The sensation is intoxicating. I find myself more aware of her presence than the movie, the scent of her hair – clean and floral – filling my senses. As the film progresses, I realize that neither of us is paying much attention to the screen.

When the credits roll, Ryujin's cheeks are flushed, and she avoids my gaze. "Why do you always look at people like you're going to kill them?" she blurts out.

"I know you like it," I reply, my voice low and teasing.

Her reaction – a mix of embarrassment and pleasure – is endearing. As she gets up to clear the dishes, I compliment her cooking. Her soft "Thank you" is barely audible, but the pleasure in her voice is unmistakable.

"Well, is there anything else you want to do?" I ask as she returns.

"Can we sleep in your bed for just a bit?" Her request is tentative, almost shy.

"Why?"

"Just a bit tired from the whiskey."

I can tell she's not being entirely truthful, but I find I don't mind. "Sure," I agree, surprising myself with how easily I acquiesce.

As we settle into bed, I hold her close, careful to maintain a respectful distance between our lower bodies. The warmth of her presence, the soft rhythm of her breathing, lulls me into a state of contentment I haven't experienced in years.

"Koji," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Have you had girls here on this bed before?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. I consider deflecting, but something about the moment – the darkness, the intimacy, the years of unspoken feelings between us – compels me towards honesty.

"Yes," I admit, "but not out of my own volition. A bunch of executives wanted better odds of staying with the company by forcing me to lay with their daughters before I was chairman..." I pause, the memories leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "Those nights were some of the worst."

I feel Ryujin stiffen slightly in my arms, then relax. Her hand finds mine in the darkness, intertwining our fingers. No words are spoken, but in that gesture, I feel a wealth of understanding, forgiveness, and something deeper that neither of us is ready to name.

As we drift off to sleep, I'm struck by the realization that for the first time in years, I feel truly at peace. The void that I've been trying to fill with work, with success, with material possessions – it seems less daunting with Ryujin by my side. And as consciousness fades, I allow myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something new, something real, something that even I, with all my power and influence, couldn't have engineered.

"Whore," she said abruptly, her voice laced with a mixture of hurt and playfulness.

The word hung in the air for a moment, its weight palpable. I felt a surge of conflicting emotions - amusement, indignation, and a strange sense of relief at her ability to joke about such a sensitive topic.

"Huh!? You little brat," I growled, my voice a low rumble. I took advantage of my growing stubble, mercilessly rubbing my chin against the soft skin at the back of her neck. The prickly sensation elicited an immediate response.

"Why does that actually hurt!?" Ryujin squealed, her body squirming as she tried to escape my assault. Her laughter, barely contained, filled the room with a warmth I hadn't realized was missing.

Eventually, our playful struggle subsided, giving way to a companionable silence. We lay there, the quiet punctuated only by our soft breaths, gradually drifting into a deep slumber. It was, I realized as consciousness faded, the second-best sleep I'd ever experienced.

When I next opened my eyes, disorientation set in. The familiar contours of my bedroom slowly came into focus as I processed the situation. Ryujin was still asleep, her arm draped possessively over mine, maintaining our embrace even in sleep. A glance at the clock jolted me fully awake - we had slept for over 19 hours. The realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. Were we hibernating?

My sudden movement disturbed Ryujin, a light sleeper apparently. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to surprise as she registered my agitated state.

I hastily explained our unexpected time skip, watching as understanding dawned on her face. Without a word, she sprang up and made a beeline for the restroom. Her urgency puzzled me.

"What's up?" I called after her, my voice still rough with sleep.

"I don't know why we slept for so long," she replied, her voice muffled through the bathroom door, "but I wanted today for us to hang out at this chic bar that's also a library."

The concept piqued my interest, but practicality reared its head. "We'll just get swarmed."

"It's only for celebrities, or is only known by celebrities," she countered, emerging from the bathroom looking refreshed.

"Well... very well then," I conceded, unable to resist the allure of a library, even one doubling as a bar.

As we went about our morning routine, standing side by side at the twin sinks, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The familiarity of the moment, reminiscent of our childhood when we were inseparable, stirred something within me - a mix of comfort and unease.

Seeking to dispel the suddenly overwhelming emotions, I asked, "Do you have any errands today?" The question came out more brusque than I'd intended, a thinly veiled attempt at creating distance.

Ryujin's response was immediate, her face clouding over with a scowl. "Can't we just be together for a bit? It was the hardest thing being away from you for 12 years, the only reason I was able to tolerate it was because of how overworked I was, and after 12 years you want to leave me again?"

Her words, raw with honesty, struck a chord. Before I could formulate a response, she crossed the hallway in quick strides, enveloping me in a tight embrace. The desperation in her grip spoke volumes.

As I stood there, my arms slowly coming up to return her embrace, I realized she was right. Despite my ingrained tendency to maintain emotional distance, I found myself wanting to be with her too. The admission, even if only to myself, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

We arrived at the bar via what Ryujin jokingly referred to as the "celebrity tunnel network," her expertise in navigating this hidden world both impressive and slightly disconcerting. As we entered, I was struck by the bar's understated charm. It was almost run-down, yet appealingly so - homely in a way that spoke of comfort rather than luxury. I could see why it would appeal to celebrities missing their hometowns, a retreat from the glitz and glamour of their public lives.

"Well, how is it?" Ryujin asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice as she awaited my verdict.

"Pretty damn nice," I admitted, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of my mouth.

Her face lit up at my approval. "Let's go and have some fun!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

What followed was almost dreamlike in its intensity. We played games, drank, ate, sulked, and cheered. Through it all, our focus remained solely on each other, the celebrities around us fading into inconsequential background noise.

"Your neurotic brain didn't expect this much fun, did it? It might faint and die!" Ryujin teased, her laughter echoing as she darted between the massive bookshelves.

"Aish, you little brat!" I called after her, giving chase through the labyrinth of literature.

We ended up nestled between the library shelves, surrounded by the comforting smell of old books and polished wood. The atmosphere was thick with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of pages and our quiet breathing. As we searched for classics, Ryujin naturally assumed her position, her head resting in the crook of my neck. The familiarity of the gesture, the warmth of her body against mine, sent a jolt of electricity through me.

Overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion, I gently motioned for us to separate slightly. As I created a small distance between us, my eyes were drawn to her, really seeing her perhaps for the first time since our reunion.

Her jet-black hair, styled to perfection, complemented her subtle yet striking makeup. The black silk dress she wore, flowing to the floor, was a stark contrast to her usual casual attire, highlighting the dichotomy of her public and private personas. Her low heels accentuated her pedicured feet, a small detail that spoke volumes about the care she put into her appearance.

As I gazed at her, I was struck by the realization that nobody else would understand the depth of her character - the caring soul hidden beneath the exterior of a femme fatale. This knowledge, this intimate understanding of who she truly was, felt like a precious secret shared between us.

The longer I looked, the more entranced I became, not just by her physical beauty, but by the beauty of her soul that shone through her eyes. Those eyes, now wide with an emotion I couldn't quite name, met mine. In that moment, we needed no words. Our connection, forged in childhood and tempered by years of separation, spoke volumes in the silence.

As we stood there, surrounded by the whispers of countless stories contained in the books around us, I felt a shift in our relationship. The boundaries we had carefully maintained, the walls we had built over years of separation, began to crumble. In their place, something new and fragile was taking root - a connection deeper and more profound than anything I had experienced before.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. For someone who had spent years cultivating an image of cold, calculated success, the depth of emotion I felt for Ryujin was unprecedented. It threatened to upend the carefully constructed world I had built for myself.

Yet, as I stood there, lost in the depths of her gaze, I found I didn't care. For once, the ever-present voice in my head - the one constantly strategizing, analyzing, planning - was silent. In its place was a quiet certainty that this, whatever it was blossoming between us, was worth any risk.

As if reading my thoughts, Ryujin's lips curved into a soft smile. Her hand found mine, our fingers intertwining with a familiarity that belied our years apart. In that moment, surrounded by the accumulated wisdom of generations contained in the books around us, we began to write a new chapter in our own story.

The deafeningly silent row became our tunnel towards each other. And, my lips crashed into hers. I pinned her to the solid shelf, which I made sure to push with increasing strength to test its integrity before, she took everything with gratitude, her lips moved slower, savoring each moment, my lips moved faster, trying to devour her, increasingly pressing into her silky mouth.

My entire body pressed against her, and even her little heels didn’t help much in reaching me, she was standing on her tiptoes. Her body pressed against mine, the silken feeling arousing both of us every second, I grasped for more and more, tightening my grip on her, the softness of her thighs obvious through the silk dress, and even more so when I passed my hands under her dress, desperately clamping on her thighs.

Little breaths of air were the only moments we could stay away from each other at that moment, her meek moans against my mouth were utter bliss, the gentle exhales adding heat betwixt our faces, my hips slowly grinded into her, the heat of my erection pressed against her body, the feeling almost like there wasn’t any cloth between us, leaving her mewling on my lips, each moment of my hips bringing out a deeper moan out of her mouth. We kissed each other with occasional eye contact, the kiss wasn’t enough, I needed to stare into her beautiful eyes, engorging on her, conquering her state of mind.

Our passion grew only larger, I grabbed hold of everything, her exposed milky thighs surrendering to the shape of my grasp. My hands slid on the side of her body, I grasped tightly, akin to a bear hug under her shoulders, yet her body still submitted, syncing the body rolls in pleasure. Grinding deeper into her, letting my tongue trail against her mouth deeper. And, There was a sudden jolt, and a much loader moan left her mouth, her whole body shook and I held her tighter, her lips left mine with trails of saliva to slowly moan into my mouth, she was driving me fucking crazy.

As she caught her breath, our makeout session resumed, this time I held her up as she straddled me, leading to our groins rubbing even more intensively. The only thing separating our genitals were 3 layers of clothing that were already soaked in her essence. The pain of keeping an erection in my pants soon became apparent, yet it was probably the smallest thing in the world compared to kissing Ryujin. The static of the books slightly picked strands of her hair off, the increasing static of our ministrations gathering the attention of even inanimate objects, for our passion was so great. Her neck divulged, surrendered to the cupping of my hands, her head relayed and followed the motions of our cuddling.

The pleasure strained her face so beautifully, the knotting of her eyebrows, the irritated wrinkles of pleasure.

“Oh my go-god…” she exhaled beautifully into my face as she stared intently, “I never expected my first time to be in a public library.”

“This isn’t your first time, this is your introduction, dear, I’ll find a space where I’ll send you to heaven.” I replied.

Her face knotted with a joking disapproval, with a slight hint of anticipation of what could be.

A beautiful cornucopia existed in our ecosystem, a beautiful quietness mixed with the groans of pleasure. The deeper I went, the more she accommodated, and yet I felt a slight hinge, a hint that she was overstimulated.

I paused, quietly prodding at what could the irritation be.

She had nearly lost her voice, raspy and soft, she said,“I’m so sorry, I’m so sensitive that any more action would probably make me pass out”

Such a gentle and kindred soul, you smirked, giving a peck on her lips one last time before you lowered her on her bare feet because the small heels had slipped off as she straddled you. Even without heels, her legs were jelly, and she fell down like a doe.

She glanced back and laughed.

She used her arms to hold on to me as we exited the building and into the car.

She broke the warm but not awkward silence to say, “Koji, could you drop me off at [X]? I promised to do something today and I’m about 3 hours late…”

I looked at her dumbfounded, “what about your bag?”

“Keep it there… You don’t just want to end it off here right?”

There was silent confirmation in both parties.

“Well… what about your dress? It’s soaked”, it was basically her entire lower half part of the dress that was damp.

Her cheeks grew bright red, “pervert… let’s grab some clothes fast at a store.”

The day merrily went by as we both said our heart-felt goodbyes.

—---

A day later, several epiphanies were realized within the octane of haphazard thinking I was ‘famous’ for:

First, that I really didn’t need to work much at the company at all, I had set myself up such that any more action would be diminishing on both the company and me.

Second, I was bored as hell, entering some scholarly professorship under my own authority helped stave it off somewhat.

Third, my loins grew hot whenever I thought of Ryujin.

-----

Ryujin had been busy with friendly and familial commitments that she made prior to going on an escapade with Koji, if she could, she would’ve canceled all of them in a heartbeat. Holidays for Ryujin or any idol is usually heavier than many jobs, like a veteran in Vietnam, beaten up, broken but still itching for a little more. Though Ryujin was doing better than most idols, she was a finalist for the national math olympiad, an accomplished essayist in her school, these other facets of her life threatened the utter subservience many agencies demanded, to be like IBM white shirts whose entire life molded into IBM was the fate of many idols.

After 2 straight days of commitments later, she finally embraced the cold warmth of her bed at midnight. And her entire mind was only of Koji. Her brain was etched with the intense moment they shared in that library, their desires being unleashed on each other in such an unsuitable place, maybe if it was more suitable, perhaps they would’ve gone farther?

This thought shook Ryujin, goosebumps over her body and her loins grew heated. Her moans were soft against the fabric of her pillow, and she quietly whispered his name with eyes closed and euphoria bloomed in her mind. Her face knotted with pleasure, with imagination ablaze in her cranium. Her embarrassed thoughts of being brought to climax within just a minute or two were overridden by her desire for him. A warm wetness grew in her until she stopped breathing, her mouth agape, slowly pouring out a warm moan.

She silently uttered, in a low tenor: “I miss him…” splayed out on the bed, in the afterglow of her orgasm.

She probably cannot go without Koji for another day.

After her climax, she debated on whether to message Koji first, thinking that she could be a burden on the budding multi-billionaire. Well, not really, she didn’t care as long as she got to text Koji. Koji was at home, engaging in his self-study in deep work, yet jumped like a gun when a unique ringtone buzzed, opposed to his corpo chat ring that he could care less about.

She finally finished her arrangements and this time Koji wanted to come over.

Koji texted, “I would’ve come over if not for the fact that you’re surveilled 24/7”

“Haha, come on, our group is 5 years old, I would jumped off the building if I had to share a studio with someone ever again”, she was beaming with sunshine at the phone, kicking her legs in the air as she felt the conversation turned to her favor, being that he would come over.

“Send me your address ASAP”

“Why do you send texts like a corpo robot hahaha”

“You’ll rue this day”

“I’ll be looking forward to it ;)”

They enjoyed each other’s dry humor, one that developed and grew over the years, making their jokes and interactions even more cohesive to one another. Finally after some banter, they both said their good nights, exhaustedly, Ryujin lightly phased into sleep as Koji stared into the ceiling for hours before sleeping.

Ryujin prepared for the noon meeting by cooking a bunch of meals, especially foods that didn’t use much oil to cook, remembering his intolerance of frying oil. Ryujin predicted that Koji would be absurdly early, so her prep began as early as 8 am; picking out the undergarments, faintly blushing at the idea of both of them going past the line; and cleaning the home until it was spotless.

Koji was usually conservative with what type of car he drove in public. Yet, this time he sped across Seoul with the Bugatti to not only come early, but to buy gifts for the first time he’s visiting her home, it’s been only 2 days and he missed her whisker smile. Koji entered a luxury pawn shop that had a collection of random goods. He bought a vinyl player, radiohead vinyl disks, and a golden necklace dating back to the 1500s restored near perfectly. He would’ve bought more if he could, but the sudden decision to bring the bugatti out severely hampered his carrying capacity. And so, he carried the goods through the street, and despite shopping around for about 20 minutes, the street was full of people. He gripped his thigh and sped down the road with the loud revs of a matador, it was bound to be a social media spectacle within the hour, he couldn’t care less.

At 10:45 he arrived at Ryujin’s specified address, and he was quite taken aback by how early he came. Though, now that he arrived, it would be a waste to wait until 12.

So, a knock came on the door. Ryujin was startled, if this was Koji then old habits truly died hard, notoriously giving her family a hard time with how he perceived time. Her flip flops smacked against her heel as she approached the door and slowly opened it, embarrassed about how she was dressed currently.

Koji quickly peered in and took her appearance in, his mouth slowly went agape.

A pink oversized t-shirt, very short shorts, flip flops, and an elegantly promiscuous anklet.

A premature silence arose, she was gorgeous, a close description of her was impossible, a more esoteric description is more suitable: it was as if god molded Ryujin as her passion project, the objective beauty overwhelming, subjective beauty incomprehensible. “Are you gonna keep staring me down and up?”, she giggled with a red tint in her cheeks.

“Oh right, well I brought some gifts since I was visiting your home for the first time”.

“Oh come on! You’re making me look bad, I should’ve brought gifts.”

“To be fair, I am basically the richest man in the world.”

She scowled at him with a slight smile and took a look at the gifts.

She really seemed so happy, fiddling with the items she got, observing them as they sprawled in her thin arms.

“Well, come on in, even though you’re about an hour and 15 minutes EARLY.” She said with a raised eyebrow, as if it was some habit of mine.

“Events lead to another, well come on, introduce me to your home.”

After an introduction and a delicious lunch, “how the hell is this food so good?” her whisker-smile appeared yet again. Koji wasn’t lying, the food was delicious more so than michelin restaurants and their opulent blandness. Perhaps, the taste is enhanced with the warm stare of Ryujin, the bare-faced beauty, in her home-attire, as if this was their ordinary life.

Ryujin asked, “Actually, I never asked you this, but how did you acquire all that wealth?” She was lightly pecking at the food with her metal chopsticks, the slight pinging sounds enthused her question with a more casual tone. It was one of Koji’s favorite questions because it encapsulated the essence of his preparation.

After about 20 minutes of Koji rambling about his strategies and mathematical approach as an executive, Ryujin said, “damn, you’re a geek”, despite listening wide-eyed with utmost attention.

“You were a geek too, if you didn’t dance you would be the geek of the century! You were reading Kafka at the age of 11, come on!” Koji blurted out, with intense resolve, knowing how much of a geek Ryujin was.

“Well I don’t know, I don’t remember anything from that book. Honestly, I might’ve just pretended to read it because you liked those types of books.” She slightly shuffled in her seat, with her head down as if she wanted to hide from embarrassment at her sudden confession.

Koji laughed harder, somehow, Ryujin just eased his burdens, well his incomprehensible burdens that turned him into a corporate robot.

No amount of conversation satiated their fascination for each other, perhaps the many years they spent apart had deepened their resolve to stick together.

Ryujin replied, wanting to switch to a different topic, “It seems like you really love your job huh… I thought being an idol was about dancing and singing, and then I was exposed to all the media training, political affiliations, customs, surveillance, and it’s kind of fizzling out, well, until I met you…” her ramble always amuses Koji to no end.

“Well I would say my job was pretty average, there was never any strong emotions I felt, I felt completely normal leveraging a trade of 50 million dollars that would’ve threatened the entire liquidity of the company, and sometimes I don’t even understand how I became the chairman, it all seems like a coincidence to me.”

Ryujin, amused with his naivety of his success, replied, “Well you know as Seneca said..”

Koji suddenly remembered the quote that Ryujin was about to say, and cut in together, “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.”

Koji interjected again, “I don’t know. Shit. I don’t even know if I was conscious at the age of 14.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Ryujin softly said, almost a slight vibration of her low tone.

They maintained eye contact, it was endlessly romantic, they fit in so well, a two-piece puzzle in which the two pieces endlessly complex fit on every level of complexity.

There was a trickle of silence, not awkward, no no… they shared each other’s melancholy, sauntering on each other’s presence, needing not a single word to continue enjoying each other's presence.

Ryujin interrupted the most beautiful silence with her beautiful voice as Koji’s eyes dug into her, “what are you looking at? Loser…”, it was an automatic response, and he didn’t register it, knowing that his stare softens her up quickly.

“I hope you know that I would conquer the stars for you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?!” A bright flush invaded her bare face, the redness of her embarrassment was adorably apparent when she had no make-up. Still, she tried to maintain the facade of the forcefully-applied girl-boss attitude.

Yet, all those mechanisms built from relentless training and practice wilted under Koji, she was a doe in front of a spotlight, all survival instincts forgotten. Yet, it was addicting for Ryujin, the most unfamiliar territory of her life.

“You know I’m really hard to understand right?” she blurted.

It had been 12 years, after all.

But, Koji replied, “Really?”

And Koji swiftly grabbed the nape of her neck and immediately pulled her in for a kiss. She was shocked, her eyes were wide with shock and yet, her eyes slowly closed, her wispy eyelashes fluttered under the glow of the euphoric makeout and her first breathy moan escaped through her. And suddenly everything felt insignificant, the air heavy and dense with the erotic sounds of kissing.

Koji picked Ryujin up with just one arm and clearing the way with his other arm, she squealed at the surprise, “How can you pick me up so easily?” she said breathlessly after kissing, staring into Koji’s eyes, “Well you’re like 40kg, come on.” As he grasped her ass for the first time earning a squeal from her.

He dropped her onto the large couch, he held the small of her back supporting their makeout session, the peaks of her nipples were teasing him through her t-shirt, her lower body was luridly seeking his stimulation. “It seems both of us read each other exactly”, as he released the kiss to dig into the side of her neck, despite the rapid escalation, they fit so naturally, read each other so naturally and knew that they only lusted for each other. “I’ve wanted this from the second I saw you,” she confessed breathlessly against the onslaught of pleasure, “I’ve wanted to experience this lurid love-making only with you.” She always managed to say the right words, the ruthless perpendicularity of Ryujin compared to the other girls turned Koji on only more.

While Koji was buried into her body, Ryujin naturally broke down, she caressed him, hugged him, and slowly rocked against him, her natural response was his natural stimulant. He rocked against her body with a firm grasp on her creamy white ass only getting more affection from Ryujin. “Ah, you are so good, so good, I’m so turned on” she breathlessly said, trying to catch her breath and mouthing her enjoyment. “Worship me”, Koji blurted out, softly moving the pliant hair out of her face, and without specifying any further, the positions naturally changed.

Ryujin rapidly kneeled on the carpet, and spread her hands around his thighs with unbroken eye contact, she was seduced, she was over the moon, and so was Koji. She kissed and tongued at almost every square inch of his legs, going down to his shins, with her kneeled down, it drove both of them crazy, she truly worshiped Koji. Koji slightly pulled Ryujin off by grasping her hair, and she stared into him intensely with lust and bit her lips with obscene arousal, and then he released her. Ryujin Licked the inside of his thighs, going all the way to his boxers, and slowly grasping the elastic boxers to slowly pull them down.

Ryujin had almost climaxed just like before with only kissing and foreplay. And when she saw his cock, her arousal skyrocketed. It had happened, it was inconceivable for the friendship to go back to what it was, and now it would be truly and utterly impossible. The last layer of our inseparable friendship unveiled a truly new layer, a new layer that could change them forever.

With the uncertain conclusion in her mind, she took him in her mouth. Koji gasped hot air while looking at the ceiling, and went to maintain eye contact while she slowly sucked on his length. She sucked so seductively, her eyes still boring into you with lust. It was her first time doing this yet her learning rate accelerated, getting notions from the slight knotting of Koji’s face.

“Is this right Oppa?” Ryujin said, with a smile on her face, her lips a little swollen from all the pressure and sucking.

“It’s very right, baby, just try to reduce scraping your teeth against my dick.” Koji rubbed Ryujin’s nape softly, massaging the smoothness of her skin.

She took the guide gladly, layering her mouth over her teeth, vacuuming her mouth, maximizing pleasure. She took him out of her mouth whenever she felt like she was breathless and slapped it against her tongue. She stared at his cock, it was glistening with her spit and several strands were still there, and she said slurredly, “I just came from sucking your dick, you know that’s how long I’ve wanted this right?” Koji quickly grabbed hold her hair, tighter this time, slightly pulling, a small squeal at the pull escaped Ryujin, “take off your fucking t-shirt” with the raspiness of arousal, Koji’s grip on Ryujin gave her endless pleasure, and the near-growl of Koji caused a vibration of pleasure within Ryujin. She stared intently at Koji as she pulled off her t-shirt, that still had the sloppiness of her amateur attempt, it didn’t matter, experience didn’t matter in love-making.

The breasts of aphrodite, the pinnacle of beauty, supple white boobs with pink nipples, he was going crazy. She quickly got back to work on his dick, and her pink nipples grazed his shin as she made a mess on his crotch. It was obvious that she was fingering herself throughout this, clearly enjoying this debauchery.

Koji began shoving her on his dick, and she slowly gargled, trying crisis control by dragging out her gargle to make it seem like it was a random noise. Koji chuckled and shoved her even deeper, Ryujin slowly adapted and didn’t need as much time to breathe, the wall of maximality slowly easing deeper and deeper into her mouth, doing it as she upended Koji’s entire life during fellatio.

She loved it, in her cozy but well-off apartment, with the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She held hands with Koji as she sucked him off. There was a beautiful life that they had envisioned, unburdened by any sort of dubious adoption, unburdened by the expectations of the previous generation. Doing what they enjoyed only, which currently was the love they expressed for each other. Slowly, Koji eased Ryujin’s moving head, pulling her off to signal the end of the session, she released his cock with a low pop. Ryujin’s nervous obedience was apparent, she nuzzled into the hand of warmth to distract her of what was bound to happen, nuzzling deeper into the hand of Koji’s that held her jaw.

Koji stared warmly and immediately picked her up, she yelped; he asked, “uhhh…. Which one’s your bedroom?” This ridiculous moment just reminded both of them of how ridiculous this situation was, but they weren’t gonna do anything to stop it. He threw Ryujin on the bed, and she relished the situation. Before he got onto the bed with her though, Ryujin slowly planted one foot on her chest. “Why am I bareback about to be violated on my bed and the culprit is suited up like he’s about to go to work in 10 minutes?” Koji tore his button up in an instant, buttons flew everywhere.

He slithered on to her, pinning her to the bed, each hand trapped under the weight of Koji, missionary style. Now that he was closer, she began her onslaught of affection, despite being literally chained under his striating arms. And there they were, Ryujin, a goddess, slowly being dominated by the love of her life. “I’m so wet, please just fuck me… I don’t have a condom but it’s my safe day (she lied)”, and he knew she lied but he didn’t care, not even Koji could resist the dopaminergic onslaught this situation caused.

The brush of their abdomens raised both their hairs, Koji’s hard abs, Ryujin’s slick abdomen both sculpted to streamlined perfection. Koji pushed off the bed, kneeling and palmed his dick, slowly lining up to her entrance. Her folds were wet to the touch and so tender, a few soft taps ensued on her pussy, each causing Ryujin to spasm in surprise

“Is it going to hurt?” She asked questioningly, with not a single intention to stop the action, just wanting affirmation from Koji.

He cupped her face, and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth, he avoided the question effectively, granting her the affirmation she needed. They were burning up in arousal.

And he slowly pushed in as Ryujin held onto him to steady him, but really it would do nothing, his athlete frame would overpower anything Ryujin tried to do. And as he slowly pushed in, a hard resistance was met, a loud cry definitely signaled something wrong, ah, he forgot she was a virgin. “Just keep going!” She said as she faced to the side to hide her face and bite into the blanket in case any more pain flustered her.

Koji whispered warm apologies into her ear, massaging a side of her shoulder as he slowly pushed in, even slower, even more sensually.

“It hurts…” Ryujin whined against the blanket.

“Want me to take it out?”

“No… keep going…” she said in an even quieter tone, still managing to be bratty even in her compromised position.

—--

“Holy fucking shit” I blurt as I slowly enter her pussy, a unbelievable softness, a vacuum of pulling, a stone wall of resistance, all contradictions yet the closest description to the glory of her her best kept secret.I use one hand to pull Ryujin’s face to meet mine as I slowly entered and murmured sweet nothings in her face. She was melting, and I could feel it on my crotch. I slowly entered even slower than before and it still almost seemed too much for little Ryujin.

The scrunch of the nose slowly morphed into a deep moan as I finally settled inside her, and then hugged her, letting the bristles of our goosebumps meet. She was kissing the side of my face as I was meticulously boring into her, moving faster this time.

Everything was sticky, misty, uncomfortable, the blanket was a little too hot, a little too invasive, the uneven bedding; none of that mattered when Ryujin was moaning softly right in your ear and trying to kiss you. Fuck the future, fuck the past, fuck anything that isn’t with you and Ryujin right now, what matters right now is that I make sure that she enjoys what she has desired for so long.

I get up from hugging her in missionary to kneeling upright, the heat of her chest missing from my chest slowly disheartening both of us. Yet, I thrust in her harder, my dick in her pussy, slick with her love, her everything, and she was rewarded as such, though she wasn’t the only one enjoying it, this was fucking mutual euphoria.

Her head was cushioned into a comically large pillow and her head was being buried in there from my thrusts, she moaned so happily, so beautifully, she was a walking goddess. The Striations of my muscles bulged in random places, full of oxygenated blood, I was slightly red all over. She seemed truly worried, for all she could muster anyway, getting pounded into the bed and opening her eyes any millisecond she could get from me pounding into her.

I am obsessive in nature, neurotic, and for all the care I tried to muster, I seemed to blow it all away. Seemingly increasing the speed, the knotting of her face clearly showing the orders I forgot to pass in order to get to this speed. Yet she held my forearms, the arms that held her waist down, that made her pussy gum on my cock continuously, getting her essence all over the bed; yet somehow I had been controlled, the softness of her palms slowed my addiction to her pussy, the addiction to her soul, her love, was greater.

The intensity of her pleasure grew further, I loved it. She was speechless, unable to process her pleasure, unable to laugh or scowl, with only moans leaving her mouth. I pressed my 4 fingers just over the pubis bone, and the thumb over her clit, pushing the 4 fingers deep and thumbing at her clit. And the first pump into her showed just how effective this was, she suddenly opened her eyes and immediately came on my dick.

“Oh! Fuck! Oh my gooo….” Her head instinctually pulled upwards, in foreign lands of her orgasm being in utter gridlock under my rule. She could do nothing, yet she could do everything, the slight palming of her hands, the sweet moans, the low tone could get me to do anything, any-fucking-thing.

I kept pumping until she started shaking and I slowly stopped, grinning at her novice submission.

“Holy shit, oh my god, what the hell was that?”, she was panting with love juices all over her body, glistening in the orange sunset. Pressing her forearms over her forehead to ruminate just on what happened.

I replied, “we have been at it till sunset”, I locked eyes with her, “but we’ve got years to catch up on”, and I flipped her over in a sunken doggystyle position, earning a squeal, a mixed reaction, she knew we had years to catch up on, and this was only a day’s worth, what could be next worried her slightly. She resolved her mind on it though.

She grabbed onto my forearm with affection and consent for me to ravage her behind until she couldn’t think anymore, to think this girl acts like a punk on national tv only amuses me more. And then the sight brought me back to the bed, her legs tucked between my legs, my dick hovering over her creamy white ass, it was obvious she was waiting for any kind of friction, she had her head down facing into the cover in some adorable way waiting for me to pummel her.

But this time, I wanted to savor it. I wrapped my hand in one of her elastic asscheeks and squeezed until a handprint formed, then slapped it.

She screamed into the cover, though she may be obedient, she makes it known when she doesn’t like something and this is not one of them.

I slowly descend on her, and she jumps a bit feeling the encroaching presence, too turned on to act nonchalant. I wrap my hands around her waist, and somehow my fingers almost touch each other, I bit my knuckle trying not to devour her right this second, try not to destroy this piece of god’s work. I slowly entered inside her this time, and again, utter bliss, she finally took her face off the cover and moaned seductively at me, I dropped down to kiss her while I fucked her inside out.

“You are god’s work, little princess” I whispered into her ear, with a soft grasp on her goosebump-ridden neck, her eyes looked up in arousal, her mouth opened wider, accommodating the lower moans.

Her ass stuck out accommodating my exchange with our genitals, I held one hand around her clit and g-spot area to try to stimulate both, slight grazes were applied, but not much thinking was going on, as I held Ryujin’s chin and kissed her while witnessing her 3rd orgasm, she moaned with extra saliva in her mouth, I saw her mouth crane open in pleasure, strands of our love spreading over the pillow. She was absolutely feral.

I was even rougher with my treatment the next turn around, I entered harder, held her chin harder, stimulated the clit harder. This made her orgasm a 4th time, this time she really needed a break, breaking the kiss to lay down, then the pinnacle of our sex crazed session was revealed to us, we fell onto the floor, we had been fucking so passionately that our session slowly moved off the bed. I fell first and landed on my back, and she landed on me, again revealing just how frail she was required to be. It felt like a beautiful pillow landing on me. We giggled until she asked to blow me instead, “I might actually die if you make me cum one more time and you haven’t even cum yet” pouting as if she was offended, though I was dangerously close, and she was the only girl that even brought me there, anyway what’s better than a goddess giving you a blowjob?

I climbed on the bed, and she climbed much slower, likely due to the “exhaustion”. She set herself up in the “The Pose” with her feet kicking the air as she took me in her mouth. This time, like a super-charged neural network was already giving a earth shattering blowjob, her beautiful feet dangled in the air while I held on to her hair. Her hair slowly collapsed on her face to reveal bangs, her hair spray degraded from our actions.

She was eye-fucking me with her innocent eyes the entire time as she gave me a blowjob, we both stared into eachother, silent conversations blooming in a ridiculous position. And I finally reached the peak, I grasped her head and I held her down until I unloaded all of it, globs of semen flowed down her mouth. The gaps of her mouth needed for breathing flowed out with thick baby batter, she vacuumed her mouth too late. She stared at me in amazement, I raised my brow, an empty response, one that could be interpreted any way. She took the response and understood it her own way. Her mouth slowly left my cock, clean with spit. She swallowed with a grin, rubbing my thighs, then dived down. She kneeled and swallowed it all, then went back down to clean the rest of the semen on my crotch, she licked and mewled until she sat up again softly patting me on the thigh.

“Goddess”, was all I could muster.

She smiled brightly and we showered each other in silent praise. She eventually moved down the bed, but kissed her down, my thigh, my shin, and got up to only collapse as she walked off.

“Oh shit, my legs are literally jelly”, but she adjusted herself, and asked, “Well… well. Do you wanna take a shower together?”, naked, glistening and slightly avoiding my gaze in her embarrassment.

“Do you even have to ask?” I jumped up and took her in a bridal carry. She again kept kissing whatever part she was closest to, my chest, my shoulders, “definitely a gentleman” and rested her head against me.

The shower was warm and it was a tight fit for other people, not for us though, we grazed skin-to-skin assisting each other to clean one another. It was exceptionally hard but it was the hardness that could be ignored, because this moment was almost undeniably better, she rubbed me with her hands and smiled with such affection, not even the graze of my dick fazed her in cleaning up together.

I would’ve brought down the world for her. We exited the shower and toweled ourselves, she said, “can we never be apart again for more than 12 hours?”, then she hugged me from behind, “can we always eat together?”, kissing my back, “can we sleep together every night?”, I replied, “I don’t know if I can fulfill all of those everyday, but I know this, you are mine,” pulling her into a gentle kiss that was the seal of our confessions. We got dressed, “You look great with the button-up that you ruined” she laughed, “I might leave this here as a memorial for our first time and leave shirtless”, I replied jokingly.

We both entered the living room and she immediately went to the kitchen to cook something up, “What about the leftovers, can’t we just eat that?”. She replied warmly with, “I want you to taste everything I planned over the 2 days, leftovers can be thought of later, my king”. Obviously teasing me but that definitely brought the rush out of me, the brief intermission of a wonderful quietness, one that was so cozy went on. I fulfilled my duties as chairman in the amount of time she spent cooking, in the beautiful silence.

She sat next to me, as close as possible, fabrics rubbing against each other. And we ate while watching Twin Peaks, until she was too scared to do so, then watched High and Low by Akira Kurosawa. After the meal, I went to the restroom, and I came out the room to see Ryujin sleeping the deepest I’ve seen yet.

I picked her up to the bedroom and let her lay there, her soft breathing was adorable. I was tired too, I took the cover that was almost entirely wet and found another blanket, and I slept next to her, not bothering to take off my clothes

I woke up with the familiar discomfort of sleeping with clothes on, imprinted lines and heat. The morning haze pierced through the flying dust, with eyes still accustomed to shuteye. I didn’t move, despite the discomfort, it was unbelievably comfortable paradoxically. It was because she was next to me, she was perfect for a sleeping ad, perfectly on her back, with a slight grip on the cover and mouth agape with slow and steady breaths. I moved slightly to get a better look at her.

Her eyes fluttered open. There was a pause and she scanned the room; moved her hand to feel my arm, and we locked eyes affectionately. “I can’t believe this is real”, then she jumped to hug me. She was so warm, we stayed like that for a few minutes until I felt a dampness on my chest. Was she really crying? Why? I looked down and she buried her face into my chest, I was too busy enjoying the scent of her and I wanted to investigate what happened. I pulled her off of me, and her eyes were indeed wet, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m so happy and I don’t know what to say, I’m not sad, it just feels like I’m getting divine intervention or something,” she laughed as she wiped her wet eyes.

I palmed the nape of her neck, and kissed her forehead then her lips. “You have to be so foul as to think I might leave again, you have utterly seduced me, my little doe,” I planted kisses on her and it was almost about to transition into a very welcome round of sex on her bed. Until a sudden bell rang on her door, she jumped trying to process what to do. “I’ll just stay on the bed”, she affirmed, and hastily went to the door, conveniently with her clothes on.

I heard the click of the door and a familiar voice ask, “Ryujin, what happened? I kept calling you and messaging you and you didn’t reply!”, “I was worried sick!” It was definitely Yeji. “But you literally live next to me!” Ryujin replied, irritated.

“I know it’s our break and all, but I was kind of bored and I wanted to hang out. I kept calling you and I heard some weird noises next door but I ignored it, and then today you still didn’t pick up your phone…”

“Alright, calm down Yeji unnie, come on in.” Her voice is strangely calm and resolute.

I heard the door click and Yeji sitting down, they chatted about the group and other things. Yeji laughed and was definitely babying Ryujin. Their bond was great, their conversation was very smooth (whatever the hell that means). I don’t even know why I’m at the edge of the bed chiming in on what exactly they were saying.

“Why have you been so absent though?” Yeji may have been a little foolish, but even she knows Ryujin was acting strange.

“Uhhh.. I don’t know, maybe I just changed all of a sudden”

“Is it about the Samsen Chairman Koji?”

Ryujin was resolute throughout the entire conversation but she stuttered all of a sudden…

Then she stuttered some more, and gave up on replying.

“Wow… I thought you were “immune to love” as you said before… cringy girl, and you even smell weird. Like the smell is some kind of masculine smell, I know you use unisex perfume and sometimes that can approach a masculine aspect but I don't think so..” She definitely knew something was up.

“Have you met up with him after that crazy hangover?” Yeji added on.

“Maybe”

“What!?” Yeji gasped.

“So what!?”

“You know JYP is not gonna like that.”

“Who cares… who cares… I’ll do what I want to do…”

“Is he here right now!?” Shit, she should be a private investigator…

“Mind your own business!” She yelped with excruciating embarrassment…

“Wow, you are really head over heels for him, Ms. Immune to Love, Ms. Resolute Girl Boss!!” She laughed hysterically, hearing what she said about love and how she interacts with people is definitely amusing.

“Well I should really mind my words if he really is here,” Yeji said as Ryujin probably planted her head in embarrassment.

It’s probably my time to head out and greet her, I grasped the door handle and appeared. It was ridiculous, I had a completely destroyed white button-up that I held the “integrity” of with a pinch of my fingers.

Yeji gasped, “Oh my GOD!!! I’m so sorry sunbaenim… if you heard all of that I was just trying to tease her… I didn’t mean anything” she really seemed to be sincere about it, her mouth was agape with a slight happiness that she guessed something right for once, guess she really was teasing her about it.

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say, what does a man who comes out of the bedroom with fucked up clothes, does he pose like batman with his fasts balled against his waist or something… fuck, should’ve thought about it a little more.

Ryujin looked back at me smiling with defeat in her eyes, begging with her eyes to resolve this crazy situation.

“Hello Yeji of ITZ…” I paused, Yeji looked disturbed, Ryujin giggled into her arms, Fuck Fuck Fuck already fucked it up.

“Hello Yeji, I am Ryujin’s boyfriend.” --------------

End Note: Hello, hopefully you enjoyed the fanfiction. I'm mainly gonna be doing Ryujin over and over again, she is just genuinely a goddess. For people who have ever even thought of writing fanfiction, do it immediately, it's a journal that you feel inclined to write because it's actually something of interest, as I rarely find myself interesting, not trying to be self-deprecating but writing in a journal is just impossible lol.

#ryujin smut #smut #itzy #male oc #male reader #hot #pining #emotions

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sku11s1asher · 24 days

Note

idk if you do poly relationships but can you do a wrio and neuvi cuddle/movie night?

neuvillette & wriothesley x nb/male reader

notes: gulp… pretend i didn’t neglect yall for months! i had a rough patch mentally, but im now starting to get into writing again so yay!! ill post an apology for you guys, make up sex or whatever you guys want idk im on my knees begging for forgiveness 😓 ily (say it back)

cw: ooc wrio + neuv (or are they just in love?)

Neuvillette and Wriothesley, two of the hardest workers in Fontaine, at least in your opinion. Every time they came home, they were beyond tired, barely undressing themselves before joining you in bed at 1 in the morning, just to wake up in a couple of hours. The cycle was as tiring for you as it was for them, you rarely got to see your lovers, and when you did all you saw was them on the verge of passing out.

It wasn’t like they didn’t try to make it up to you though. When they got an off day, which was rare, they would always show you how much they loved you in different ways: sex, cooking, cuddling, dates, etc. Today was surprisingly one of those off days, you expected to wake up by yourself with just the leftover warmth from them next to you but instead, you woke up with a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You let out a yawn as you opened your eyes, you could see a mop of black hair lying on your chest.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you tried to sit up, only to get pulled back down. “Don't move.” a deep voice mumbled. “Wrio?” you asked in a sleepy voice, one of your hands going to rest in his hair. You looked toward the window, you noticed Neuvillete staring outside, drinking a cup of tea. You felt more confused than ever, why were both of them home? It's not like you were complaining about it, you were glad, just confused. It wasn't your birthday, nor either of theirs, and it most definitely wasn't your anniversary.

“What are you guys doing at home?” you asked Neuvillete while your hand subconsciously started petting Wriothesley's hair. “Have you already forgotten? I marked it in the calendar.” Neuvillette responded in an amused tone, slightly turning to look at you. He loved the way you looked when you first woke up, eyes all droopy, hair messy, that cute confused look on your face, how your voice dropped a bit, just everything about you. “I would never forget anything you said.” you lied while flopping back on the bed, and going back to sleep.

—

When you finally woke up, it was noon, there was still someone right next to you. A groan came from you as you pushed them away, you could tell it was Wriothesley by the way his deep voice said some complaint. “It’s 12 in the afternoon, I’m getting up.” You told him as you tried to get up, only to feel a hand grab your arm. “Five more minutes, please?” He begged, gently pulling you back. But before you could respond or he could open his mouth to try to persuade you anymore, the door to the bedroom opened, prompting the both of you to look towards it.

“Both of you need to get up,” Neuvillette spoke, “shower then come to the living room. The movies are ready, I'll start the popcorn when you both decide to join me.” Once he walked out, Wriothesley sat up in bed, prompting you to fall off him. You looked up at him as he rubbed his eyes, he looked so cute, almost like an actual puppy. You decided to get off the bed, stretching as you stood up, letting out a small groan. You walked to the dressers, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and clean boxers before heading to the bathroom. Halfway through your shower, the door opened and the sink turned on, you didn't have to look to know it was Wriothesley.

When you finally got out of the bathroom, you could hear popcorn popping which made you quickly go to the living room. It looked like Wriothesley made Neuvillette his new cuddle victim, the black-haired male had his head on Neuvillette's lap while his hands were lightly touching the other male's leg. “Hello, dear,” Neuvillette greeted you, turning his head towards you with a soft smile, “I’ll go get the popcorn then we can start the movies. Take a seat.” You made your way over to the couch, letting out a soft chuckle when you saw Neuvillette gently take Wriothesley off his leg. Wriothesley scooted over on the couch, pulling you into the spot next to him.

—

A bowl of popcorn was on the table in front of you, Wriothesley was lying across both your and Neuvillettes laps, while your head was leaning on Neuvillette’s shoulder. The movie that was playing was a random comedy that you weren't really focusing on. Instead, you were focusing on how Wriothesley was playing with your hand: lacing and unlacing it, squeezing it, making shapes on it, laying it on his stomach, all types of things. You slightly moved your head, getting a small glance at Neuvillette, seeing how he was engrossed in the movie. He looked so handsome from this angle, like a true angel. His hair was up in a ponytail, he had a relaxed look on his face which came with a slight smile, no makeup on, just looking amazing.

Neuvillette looked at you, gently moving your head to kiss you, “You stare a lot.” he teased before letting you go back to your previous position and turning his attention back to the movie. He always knew when to catch you off guard, he loved seeing the slight blush on your face and how your body got slightly warmer. A small chuckle came from Wriothesley, “This movie is pretty hilarious.” he stated, which made Neuvillette hum in agreement. “You laugh at the corniest shit, Wrio.” you teased, pinching his stomach. “Yeah, I always laugh at your corny jokes.” he countered which made you pout. “Rude,” you mumbled before finally turning your attention back to the movie.

You were on the fifth movie, the popcorn long gone but neither of you felt like moving to get more. You felt yourself start to get tired, slightly moving yourself to get comfortable before letting out a soft sigh. You felt content, your boyfriends had you practically trapped in between them, their scents surrounding you, and both of their bodies were warm, it was true heaven. You felt your eyes slowly start to close, you didn't feel like focusing on the movie anymore, or anything for that matter. Wriothesley was quiet, not making any comments or a chuckle anymore, which meant he was most likely knocked out. Right before you fell asleep, you felt Neuvillette’s head slightly drop on yours and heard his breathing even out. Looks like all of you are going to sleep on the couch tonight.

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breedbun · 4 months

Text

in honour of my return i will finally do my only request..

WANDERER x male reader

warnings; slight feminisation (you wear a dress, guys hit on u and call u girly stuff), transmasc reader, spanking, vaginal, degradation, rough sex, dubcon(?), aggressive and really angry sex, release control, mention of wanderer being a puppet, slight breeding kink mention??

more; hiii hab fun with funny puppet guy!!! anyway basically imm finally making a return.. sry guys too busy writing my genshin ocs (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) not much to say, but my birthday just passed on the 30th of may so like yraaah!!

(edit; i forgot this was requested as transmasc reader and i just. like i just went blank ok i wrote this at 6-7am in the fucking morning after sleeping at 3:40. it's ok tho i edited it!! fun fact it's 9am rn HAHAHAHA,, edit count; 3x)

yay hab fun !! ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ vv

You've had a couple drinks, a few swigs and chugs of cheap wine, here and there. Obviously, you were just itching to start something you couldn't finish, like.. flirting with the bartender, but he was much too gruff and rugged for your liking. Or spending the night in some rich merchant's bed, and hurriedly rush to stuff all the jewels and pretty diamonds you could find in his room into your bag. Simply put, you were bored. At least without him here..

Sure, it's been a couple days since you actually spoke with him. Maybe you did sleep with a few guys, but so what? That little thing between you and him both.. was non-committal, it was just one fun night. Clearly, he didn't seem too happy with that. I mean, who would be?

Letting go of such a handsome, youthful guy with a mouth that couldn't stop running would be a sin. But, what was more of a sin, was just how hard Scaramouche had to restrain himself from agreeing to head to the tavern with you. Just how much his head would ache, yet that ball of surging heat throbbed whenever he just thought of you. It was undeniable, he was crazy in love.. or lust. What was the difference? Neither you nor him even knew.

The more laughs, flirty glances, and pretty smiles you flash to every other guy in the bar, the more attention you'd get from just sitting down with nothing more than a small cocktail in hand. The tavern wasn't exactly packed, but it wasn't exactly empty either. Just enough guys to get Scaramouche's blood absolutely boiling, if he ever saw you in that dress.. in a considerably tight space full of hungry, ravished men. It was almost a miracle your drink wasn't spiked yet. "Ha! Thank ya', darling. You're just the sweetest, y'know?" In a sultry, sickeningly sweet voice, you've successfully seduced every single man in that room. The bartenders were even willing to shake up a brand new, expensive glass of wine for you! But being the oh—so sweet man you are, you politely decline and play it off. Besides, who knows what they'll put in his drink?

Not even bartenders are free from being guilty of drugging drinks, you've been warned an ungodly amount of times anyway. Ah, but before you could even say another word, looks like an anticipated, unexpected man decided to show up. One you know too well, beyond that big ol' hat and the pretty, shiny anemo vision hanging from his clothes. It took you a few moments of hesitation to not steal it that night, and boy is he lucky that you'd rather spare him than go through the trouble of disrespecting the gods.

He didn't waste a second, to force his way through the small crowd and shove himself in between you and some other bastard. Scaramouche hadn't bothered to even look at you once, which honestly and unexpectedly really disappointed you. You wouldn't worry about your appearances to some.. unknown guy, at least not normally.

As any attractive guy should've, you'd scoff and feign a pout in offense of his sudden intrusion. "What's the big deal, Hat Guy? You changed your mind?" Your elbow nudge clearly touched more than his skin, because it looked like you had just touched a nerve. That expression on his face, ha! It was golden, if not extremely unexpected. This usually nonchalant, inexpressive dude who wouldn't even cast a second glance if he wasn't half drunk with you.. he was livid. Absolutely livid, and you were livin' for it.

You don't remember your next words, because of just how violently he grabbed you by your collar and how evident it was from the taste of his tongue, that he'd been drinking a sinful amount of wine before getting a move on to find you. Why? He didn't know.. It's not like he could ever get drunk.

Obviously, he just had to drag you back into his bed. So what if that night was just for fun? Because this night clearly isn't.

The moon had barely risen up, and Scaramouche didn't even bother to turn on the lights in his temporary living situation. A small, but comfortable home, now steamed up and filled with the slutty, loud moans you'd let out from just a little edging. His fingers shifted in and out between your tight rim, at the speed of which you could barely catch your breath to. His other hand's glove was peeled off with the help of his teeth, sliding his hand out as he loosened the fabric.

With your ass up, legs spread apart, dress on the floor, he just had to see your pussy twitch with his porcelain fingers tightly wrapped between them. No, that chest of yours was just as majestic, oh.. those scars. Made him absolutely insane.. and now, moving at a merciless rate, every plea and sob you choked out for him to slow down just fell on deaf ears.

"H—haah..! F-faast, too—t-too faaa—ast!" On the contrary, he decides to speed up momentarily. Just as your eyes squinted and your voice let out an unholy moan, he pulls his fingers out and ensures his fingers land over and right on top of your clit. He was just rubbing it, cooing at you like you were a stupid, brainless thing. "Too fast? Aw, little slut can't handle a bit of touch? God, you're fucking pathetic." He laughs, denies you your release, and mocks you with little to none regret and remorse. You would hate him, if you weren't so fucking kinky. (I'm looking at you, yes you.)

His hands pull away from your leaking pussy, pulling you up as fingers dig into your scalp. He pushes your forehead against his, smile condescending, narcissistic and full of.. ego. You loved it. Those plush thighs pulled against his hips, calves around his body.. his hands simply slid down to pump his own hard cock. He couldn't resist, I mean.. a sight like you, and he doesn't get to fuck his fist a little? That'd be almost miserable..

The only thing better from jacking off to your messy, sticky face was to fuck you. Your sweet little asscheeks spread apart, he would pull your hips in a little closer, lightly rubbing his tip and girth against the entrance. You were just about to throw a snarky, but shakily bratty remark you've been mustering up for a while, but all that hard work went down the drain as he sunk you on his cock.

Easily, it slid in embarrassingly quick, from just from your slick acting as lubricant—thankfully enough.. and besides the rough, mind-breaking sensation inside that jolted up his spine, you could feel Scara churn your insides with dirty squelching sounds constantly and consistently hitting your g-spot.. almost violently. Your head threw forward, and you pushed your face right into the crook of his neck.. biting, sucking, doing anything while your thighs kept lifting and slapping right back down on his hips.. He's fucking you senseless, and all you can think about is how relieved you are.. that he's still addicted to all your holes like a drug.

You moaned like a whore, a bit too loud for his liking. Your pretty, perfect, fleshy ass that he decides to pound, is met with a loud smack. Not once, not twice, but four times, both sides. You tighten up every time, of course he'd gladly do it a fifth and a sixth. You've got one tight cunt, and so many ways to make it harder to pull out. Maybe you do it on purpose.. maybe it's just instinct. But it's obvious.. 'addicted ' would be an extreme understatement. Every yelp, every moan and groan, even the smallest and softest whimpers.. oh, he lived for it. He lived for it every second he could lay his hands on you.

Again, he could barely slide his fingers into your hole. He smoothly starts to finger you, again.. and again, but he just always pulls away just before your sweet release. In fact, he's not gonna let you cum until you make him fill your stomach with his babies. Scara doesn't understand why, or how he, a puppet, is able to even fuck you. But.. he's not complaining, and neither are you. And with every churn, every squeeze and drop, it turned you into a mind-fucked fleshlight. You wouldn't even form words, let alone sentences. He wasn't the only one addicted in this "non-committal" relationship.

You could barely believe that it's only been at most an hour. You're going to be fucked for the whole night, and you know. You should've just came to his house earlier, maybe you could've cummed by now..

yaay hope u like my brainrotten scara fanfic woohoo next up is KAEYA because he is literally the love of my fucking life.. YA

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

@breedbun ™ ` ` written by a silly bunny boy! ` `

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin #male reader #bottom male reader #transmasc reader #top surgery #request #genshin scara #scara #wanderer genshin #sillyposting #breedbun

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pocketjoong · 9 months

Text

❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

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London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss.

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

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Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will?

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would.

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them.

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly.

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

435 notes · View notes

themissinghand · 11 months

Note

Nice to meet you🤗..If the request is still open, Can I ask for Dokja's request for lucky female readers?🥹..Where do reader have high good luck?.The reader and Kim Dokja have known each other for a long time because the reader first started a conversation with Dokja (I'm sure it's fun when Dokja introduces reader to his group😂.) It's okay if not. Just don't be stressed by the requests. I hope the requests don't bother you.. Thank you.. And may your whole day till night be good.. Bye-bye.. Don't forget to take care of yourself.🤗💕

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Lucky Star

Summary: In which Dokja finds his lucky star.

Or, maybe he’s not that unlucky after all.

Pairing: Kim Dokja x Lucky! F! Reader

Note: Thanks for your patience! Make sure you all take care of yourselves too~

Noona: typically used by younger male to call an older female or sibling.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

If there is an angel in this world, then it must be you.

You were a bright light in his life, providing salvation to him in forms of patience, encouragement, and friendship.

You were his manager at the game company he worked at. Someone who was vibrant and cheerful, who possessed an uncanny ability to turn the mundane into moments of joy.

"Dokja! Let’s go for a drink!" You would say, your infectious enthusiasm pulling him into a world where deadlines and stress would melt away.

But you also knew when to not take in bullshit.

“Hey (Y/N), why are you overreacting? Huh? Just because I didn’t do my work the one time-“

“One time? It’s been a week since you did anything. And you put it on the newbie to finish it?”

“So what? You’re a terrible manager anyway, that’s why women shouldn’t work here-“

A snap silenced him.

“Hey mother fucker, calculate your severance pay. Talk to me like that in the disputes office and see who dies first.”

Kim Dokja heard it accidentally, but from then on, his respect for you has soared above the clouds.

"Dokja, you've got this! I'll teach you the ropes.”

Dokja marveled at your ability to lead the team with outspoken confidence, patiently teaching him the ropes and offering unwavering support when the challenges of the workplace seemed overwhelming.

“Happy birthday to our newbie, Kim Dokja!”

“Merry Christmas everyone! I got some gifts!”

“Ya, let’s go out for a drink everyone! I got the holy bank card from the boss!”

The team loves you for being a beacon of light, someone who could be fun and leader-like at the same time.

Dokja couldn't help but think that you must be cherished by the heavens, as you were blessed with an extraordinary dose of luck.

Like how you would “accidentally” meet important connections and befriend them, leading to successful results in projects.

Or how you would win those in gacha games with the character that you wanted.

“Noona, if you were in a game, your luck stat would be maxed out.”

“I guess so, but isn’t that good?”

Very soon after, little did he know that your luck would soon become a lifeline when the world plunged into chaos.

When the apocalypse struck, Dokja stumbled upon the familiar face in an unlikely place – the convenience store, hastily gathering supplies with a calm demeanor that belied the impending doom. It was then that he realized the depth of her luck, a quality that extended beyond corporate success.

Like how does someone find a healing elixir in a pile of junk food in the convenience store!?

Or how does she find a ultra rare bow in a police station?

What is this unfair world!?

Dokja appreciates your help and your luck, but at the same time, he can’t help but lament on his own life.

Perhaps the luckiest thing that happened to him was dating you.

With such a thought, Kim Dokja’s lips curled up and hugged you from behind.

“What wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does my good boy want some love?”

Although he was blushing aggressively and in public, he couldn’t help but nod.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is squealing and wishing for grandchildren]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ play a main character of a romance comedy show]

[The Constellations have sponsored you 1000 coins]

“Get a room.”

Dokja expected the worst when Yoo Joonghyuk entered the scene, but to his surprise, your life was spared.

“She’s useful.” Says the emo sunfish as he glares at Dokja for absolutely no reason.

(Okay, there might be that one time where he returned a punch, and absolutely wrecked that protagonist…no regrets)

Dokja wants to smack him a few times in the face.

The revelation that her constellation was the Secretive Plotter added another layer of mystery to her extraordinary luck. The constellation seemed to guard her against many dangers, marking her as someone to be protected, though for some unknown reason.

Can’t say Kim Dokja has any complaints about that at all.

You must be protected at all costs.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks her lucky encounters and moments are interesting]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ donates 1864 coins]

Whatever it is, Kim Dokja has no complaints…scrap that, he has too many complaints since he has too many rivals!

“(Y/N), you are my lucky star right?”

“Yep! Don’t worry!” She pats him on the head and he ignores the knowing looks from others on the team.

“Hug.”

“Someone’s needy today.” Kim Dokja gave others the middle finger behind your back as he rested his head on your shoulders.

From that point on, Dokja affectionately dubbed her his "lucky star" or, as they playfully jokes, his "lucky charm."

Whether it was winning luck-based games or navigating perilous situations unscathed, your fortunate aura became a source of both amusement and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

“So, what’s it like raising a puppy as a Sugar Mommy?” Han Sooyoung asks you, who chuckles lightly.

“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja twitched a brow, but calmed down a bit when you held his hand.

“He’s not a puppy, but he’s cute and bites people he doesn’t like. And he protects me well!”

“(Y/N)!” Kim Dokja blushes in embarrassment but couldn’t say anything in his stuttering mess.

Han Sooyoung raised a brow before she mimicked a barfing action.

“Damn girl, you have it hard, I respect you.” She patted your shoulder before leaving.

“Dokja, just like I’m your lucky star and charm, you are my lucky puppy. Okay?”

Looking at your puppy face, Dokja couldn’t say no.

“Fine…just don’t call me that in public…”

Kim Dokja felt a kiss in his nose, and he reciprocated the action by lacing your hands together.

“Aw, who’s a good boy?”

“Stop it…”

Your laughter is music to his ears, and while sometimes your teases make him want to hide somewhere in a hole and die from embarrassment, he loves you all the same.

“Get a room!”

“Shut up you sunfish!”

Maybe cursing at the protagonist isn’t the greatest idea.

(When has that ever stopped him?)

“I will kill you Kim Dokja!”

641 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

Eddie x fem! Reader [masterlist]

Prev | vol viii

Summary: November 1st, Steve’s birthday celebration, a new friend is brought into the mix, Eddie’s past is revealed.

Trigger Warning: no minors pls, language, drinking, reader wears Eddie’s jacket, fluff, angst.

W/C: 11.5k

@jo-harrington + @ghost-proofbaby for beta reading this a tiny bit for me

The sun is waning through your curtains, blinding your eyes with a light so bright it’s like you’re staring into a flashlight. The ominous whirring of your fan oscillates, sending a chilling breeze across your room

Silently thanking yourself for taking ibuprofen before falling asleep last night, the pounding in your head is minimal, but the scratchy dryness of your throat is a steady reminder of the impromptu karaoke singing and the toe to toe chain smoking contest you bullied Eddie into. Your former drunker self turned cockier with every drink.

“I bet you… this house! This fucking house! That I can smoke more cigarettes than you can at once,” you slurred in a buzzed stupor as you swayed your body with the faint music of REO Speedwagon, your finger pressed into his chest where the fabric v’d open.

Red eyed and already higher than Willie fucking Nelson, Eddie grins wider than the Cheshire Cat, dipping low to your ear to whisper, “game on, sweetheart, but we’re smokin reds not your menthol shit.”

News flash. You couldn’t out smoke Eddie. And your burning croaky throat was proof of that.

Feet on the floor, your cold toes inching towards purchase against the carpet for your slippers. Opening your eyes, you assess the room. The Eddie costume you proudly wore all night, was strewn across your floor, complete with the wig. A rumbly laugh reverberates through your lungs along with a horrendous hacking cough. The memory of Jeff wearing it and imitating Eddie jogs across your mind. The way Eddie pouted and glared through his lashes made you smile sweetly at the memory.

A quick glance at your body in the mirror shows that you’re still wearing the soft black DIO shirt from lastnight, but thankfully you changed into pajama pants.

Another rough barking cough against your already achy throat surrenders it’s vices and begs for water. Opening the door you are met with a freezing chill. Eyes blinking in the bright sun from the windows in the living room, you take note of the heaps of bodies snoring and drooling amongst the floor.

Mike and El are cuddled up like two little kittens against the back corner in the living room, her blonde wig used as a pillow, Mike’s Mad Hatter jacket and his arm draped over her. Finding yourself gawking at the sweetness of seeing them curled into each other, you wonder if you would ever have a great love like they did. Your stomach leaps when the one crossing your mind is Eddie.

It was wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling this way about your brother’s friend, your roommate for fucks sake! He was everything you hated about the male population. Loud, annoying, an absolute pervert. Messy beyond belief, couldn’t boil a goddamn egg. But, he was also gentle, kind, and caring. Your yearning heart ached for his touch like the day he held you close to his chest during your darkest hour.

Not to mention he was cute. Okay, that’s a lie. Eddie was hot, in that rugged ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ kind of way. Different from most guys in Hawkins, who were obsessed with their appearance, their family name. Eddie didn’t care, he was just himself. Always had been, always would be. And something about that cocky demeanor, burying the kindest heart you’ve ever come across, made your heart stutter in your chest.

Would he hold you like Mike was holding El if you were his? Would he cover you in kisses and do cliche things with you like matching couples costumes on Halloween? Something deep inside told you he would.

“Cute aren’t they?”

You jump out of your skin at the low, velvet voice, not realizing he was awake, your hungover mind foregoing the aroma and slow drip of black coffee being made. Too wrapped up in thinking about him to notice that he had approached you on your left, his messy curls swing against your cheek as he had bent down to your ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a chuckle.

You turn and look at him, he’s so close to you your noses almost touch. The tickling shock of nervousness from last night returns and travels up your spine, curling into your hair, igniting every hair follicle, a burning welcomed pleasure against your scalp. A quirked smile on his lips as you take a step back.

Blinking slow, you take him in. His smile could melt the polar ice caps, that goddamn panty dropper grin, you curse yourself silently for feeling the heat on your neck. He’s wearing black sweats, cut above the knee and rolled at the hem from many washes. A horrendously sawed off cut t-shirt adorns his broad shoulders. The same raw hems rolling inward, exposing a silver hoop in his nipple. The sun catching the steel ring and casting a blinding glare against it. He tips the coffee mug he’s holding back to his lips, emptying the contents in one gulp. The smell of potent orange juice fills your nose as you stare at his lips. His tongue poked out to lap up the last spilled drops.

“No, you’re fine—I didn’t realize you were up,” you explain, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Peering around him at the small wooden clock on the wall, it’s only 8:30, “didn’t know you were aware that there was an 8:30 AM on Sundays.”

“Are you always this witty in the morning?”

“It’s a gift,” you say with a smirk, “consider it a blessing, you’re late by the way.”

“Late for what?” The lazy way he smiles at you should be a crime.

A coy smile on your lips, “Sunday Service.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and grabs his side, wincing slightly, “agh, don’t make me laugh,” he groans, “I think I fucked up my back or something from falling down those steps last night.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”

Gareth turned his head from the spout engulfing deep breaths from the chilled night air. Argyle and Jonathan let his feet back down to the deck. Standing next to Nancy and Ash, you whoop and holler along with everyone else, cheering on the new Keg Stand Champion. Gareth, stands on wobbly legs, taking a deep breath, he shouts, “And that's how it’s d—“

Before he can finish his victory speech, he projectile vomits all over Big D. Covering him shoulders to waist in foamy chunks of party food and the cheap keg beer. Laughter erupts from Eddie, he throws his wild hair back in amusement. Clutching his stomach and choking on the smoke from the joint he had just inhaled. Karma, proving again that she’s a cunt, Eddie leans back just far enough to fall backwards down the five steps to the ground.

“Jesus down, Jesus down!” Eddie exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

Concerned, you delicately reach for his wrist and move his hand away from his ribs. A small splatter of deep purpling color against his alabaster skin suggests that they are more than likely bruised from the fall. The dainty touch of your fingers on his body sends goosebumps against his flesh, and it wasn’t because your hands were cold. He swallows hard, adoration in his brown eyes as he takes in your smell, how messy your hair was, the hum on your lips as you observe him, pressing the pads of your fingers into his skin.

Who would have thought that simple minuscule touches from you could cause a frenzy in his blood. He thought the hair washing would bring him to his knees, but this? He didn’t realize he stopped breathing until you spoke.

The hitch in his throat is dismissed by you, “sorry, my fingers are probably freezing,”

He murmurs, something along the lines of “it’s fine,” but you barely hear it.

His skin is surprisingly smooth. Women spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in their lifetime to have perfect skin, and here Eddie Munson was, baby soft skin on a metal head’s body. You take the time to admire the exposed tattoo on his ribs next to the bruises. Tracing your finger over the triangled black ink outlined in red, angry against his skin. You’ve seen the symbol before but never understood what it was. An eight laying sideways, in the overlapping section is a cross with two lines instead of one.

Seconds fade to minutes of your fingers tracing his skin. Neither you or Eddie have said a word. Unhurried migrations on your fingers skate across the alabaster, feeling for any broken bones, but only feeling the velour cream of his skin beneath your hands.

Clearing your throat, you look into his blown out eyes, “I —um,” the air is thick between you both, making it hard to breath, or it could be the fact that the caramel pools of his eyes are pouring into yours, “ looks like it’s just bruised,” you say, slowly moving your fingers away from his skin. Your nails scratching his skin casually. And a quick intake of breath hisses between his teeth.

Eddie’s voice comes out shakier than he would have liked, he licks his lips, “o-oh good.”

He casts his eyes downwards, his fingers tug gently at the sleeve of the DIO shirt you’re still wearing from last night. His eyes find yours again, the browned oasis beckoning you, “are you still mad at me for winning the costume contest?” he asks in almost a whisper, lips barely moving, his focus full on the way your soft skin under your shirt feels against his calloused fingers.

The jump in your lower belly ignited the flame within you, sending burning hot coals to your core at his ghosting fingers on your arm. You blink rapidly and scoff. Rolling your eyes to extinguish the flames, you force yourself away from him, brushing past him, your shoulder grazing his chest sends more fire through your veins, a last attempt on keeping the heat blazing. “I was never mad,” you explain. Opening the cabinet with shaky hands and grabbing a white mug with tiny yellow flowers on the rim, you take a deep breath to steady your voice, turning it into a makeshift yawn, “who do you think decides who wins the contest anyway?”

Pouring the hot black coffee into the mug the aroma fills the room. Creamer sloshes against the liquid mixing merrily into a toffee colored dream.

Eddie leans against the counter, taking a piece of candy from the plastic jack-o-lantern dish and twisting the ends between his fingers, the orange hardened sugar melting slow on his tongue.

“You voted for me?” he asks earnestly, his head bowed in bashfulness, “you’re going to make me blush, sweetheart,” he coos, swirling the candy around his mouth, clacking against his teeth as he tries to hide a smile.

Sipping the piping hot coffee gingerly between your lips, you shrug, “not every day I get to see you acting so holy, thought we should capitalize on the opportunity, plus, it really was one hell of a costume.”

The bubblegum blush on Eddie’s cheeks make him look like a teenager, twisting his hair as if he just received his first kiss.

“I don’t know, I kinda liked yours,” he said matter of factly.

“That’s cause you’re full of yourself,” you say with a teasing tone, sticking out your tongue, and coughing roughly again.

Eddie’s eyebrows pull inward, a mocked scoff on his lips, “I refuse to take insults from someone who sounds like my Uncle Wayne— told you you couldn’t hang with the big dogs— but no, Tooty doesn’t listen.”

You dismiss him with a suggestive middle finger and a smirk as you sip the coffee again, “I can do anything I want, you’re not my babysitter.”

Neither of you knew that Robin and Steve were both awake, listening intently to your light banter, your giggling voices as you teased each other. The way yours pitched in a high squeal when Eddie’s hands tickled your sides and you tried to fight him off with the paper towel row.

The two friends sit side by side on the couch, smiling widely at one another, wondering when you would let eachother in.

It was noon before Gareth woke up, a combination of dried puke and drool on his face. The other four party go-ers had already left and did the sad walk of shame out to their vehicles. Both Robin and Steve give you weird looks and wide glances all morning, you even noticed Steve wiggling his eyebrows.

Yawning and reeking of alcohol. The loud snores from Gareth’s slack mouth could awaken the residents lying 6 feet under in East Hawkins. He’s laying with his head in a popcorn bowl, a poorly drawn sharpie penis crudely coloring his cheek, thanks to Eddie. The cold puke slowly oozing from the bowl onto himself has your stomach lurching.

Eddie finally woke him by shaking his shoulders violently, yelling into his face, “dude! You’re gonna rattle the fucking house off the foundation with that deafening snore, Christ almighty!”

Gareth stirred alive, swinging his arms frantically. “Fuck, man, scare the hell out of me why don’t ya!”

“Oh relax, trust me— it was either this or the Tooty method,” Eddie says with a grin motioning to you standing behind his shoulder holding a cup of cold water, a devilish smirk on your face, “seriously though, get up you smell like two-week-old rotten asshole.”

After Gareth and Eddie argue over why he has a dick drawn on his face, and Eddie swearing it wasn’t him, Gareth bumps his fist into Eddie’s and waves goodbye as he stands at the front door, and addresses you, “helluva party Tooty, hopefully I didn’t make too much of a mess and you’ll invite me again next year,” his easy smile is something you’ve never seen directed at you. Of all Eddie’s bandmates, Gareth was the hardest to read.

“Duh, you’re the reigning keg stand champion, you gotta make a return,” you smile back.

Gareth laughs, his floppy thick hair matted from the habit he wore all night, “think my keg stand days are over.” He looks from you to Eddie, watching the way Eddie smiles at you adoringly, and he starts to finally get it. Understand why his friend acts the way he does around you. You’re easy to talk to, friendly, kind, once you let your guard down. He looks to Eddie again as you turn and walk back to the kitchen, giving him a knowing glance shifting his eyes to you, and nodding his head once in approval, “see ya around dickhead,” he jokes to his oldest friend, his role model, his brother.

“Why the fuck do I have to wear this?” Eddie groans, pulling at the stiff collar on his shirt, buttoned too tight around his neck, not used to material that wasn’t leather or soft cotton, the metalhead was crabby and uncomfortable in the borrowed maroon button down shirt and black skinny tie from Harrington, “I look like a bible salesmen!”

Steve’s birthday was tonight and he requested to have dinner at his favorite restaurant in Indianapolis. He had gotten a big promotion at work the week after Halloween and was in need of a little celebration before the task of being executive director started.

Slotting silver iridescent dangly earrings you had borrowed from Nancy into your ears and adjusting the matching choker against your throat, you take the last curler out from your hair and fluff it with your fingers to give it shape. You holler from closed confinements of your room, “it’s for Steve’s birthday, not your birthday— quit being a big baby!”

Stepping your tights into the borrowed black velvet pointed heels, and smoothed down the black velour mini dress with the spaghetti straps you had bought last week from an ad in the paper about selling prom dresses for cheap. The material was snug against your curves fitting like a glove. Your makeup was darker than you would have normally done on any other given day but since this was such a fancy event for one of your closest friends— you smoked out a brown eyeshadow across your lids and added a heavy coat of mascara to your lashes with a thin line of eyeliner. Your favorite lipstick swiped delicately across your lips.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you are pleased at your reflection. A patch of doubt trickles up your chest making you question if you should change. Is it too much? Is it over the top? But all that comes to a halt when loud banging is heard on your door. Stopping your spiraling shame cold in its tracks.

“Tooty?” Eddie raps on the door, “Steve just pulled up. You ready or are we leaving your ass at h—”

For the first time in Eddie’s life he is speechless. Not counting the time that his jaw was wired shut for 6 months when he took his skateboard off the roof of Gareth’s house in middle school.

Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry and itchy like eighty grade sandpaper. His eyebrows are lifted, tucked beneath his bangs. It’s as if everything was going in slow motion, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was stunned by the drop dead gorgeous woman in front of him.

Your beauty wasn’t something that just happened in a movie with you pouncing down the stairs to some cheesy song with your friends clapping at the top and high-fiving over their “miracle makeover”. Eddie just simply wasn’t accustomed to seeing you dressed up like this.

It’s taking everything in him to not spring forward like a rabid dog and close the gap between you. Slot his lips against yours. A desperate, needy kiss so full of urgency that your head would spin. He’d keep you in the spinning wonderland until both of you were seconds from passing out. Dizzy from the floating clouds and blissful euphoria soaring around in his arms. He wants to grab your waist, wants to fist his fingers around the nape of your neck, wants to see the way your mouth would open with a gasp as he kissed your collar bone, so sweetly, so delicately— his name a whisper on your breath. He’d kiss your lips until they were chapped, sore, and tender to match his. Then he’d kiss them better, his lips the antidote, curing your craved pain.

He’d give anything— his van, his guitar, the band whatever it took— just to get a taste. In this dream land he’s everything you wanted, everything you needed. You loved him, adored him. Accepted his flaws, his past, his scars. He’d hold you tight while you slept, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, stealing sleepy kisses on your hair, enamored by the perfume of your hair, intoxicated, drugged by the lust of your skin. He’d learn how to cook, make you delicious meals, clean the house, do the laundry, be the perfect man. All for you.

He wanted to feel your body forming and molding around him. Yearned to know the valleys of your body, each curve, each beauty mark, each scar visible or not. If it weren’t for his heart hammering into his ears he would have thought he had gone deaf for sure.

You’re talking but he can’t hear you.

He’s still in the dream land, dancing on Saturn’s rings, cooling his feet in Jupiter’s springs, holding your hand and taking you higher with him. Your smile taking flight in his chest and ascending you along the majestic sights of the Milky Way. Completely gone from this world. A world where you were his, and he was yours.

The more he fantasizes it— the more the impossibility of this dream increases. His bravado falls, crashing through the sparkly dream with fluffy clouds, falling further down. Away from you. Away from the dream he wanted, craved to be reality.

He fell through the clouds, clinging to your fingers, would you reach out for him? Help him? Save him?

Would you ever want to be his? He was Eyeball’s friend, Prince of the Trailer Park, probably annoyed you more than Eyeball himself did. You were beautiful and put together, and him? He was lint in the dryer, causing house fires when forgotten about. Voted most likely to end up in prison for the graduating class of ‘85 and ‘86. A failure, a crack in the sidewalk you’d avoid to break your mother’s back as a kid.

Avoid the trailer park trash. Avoid Eddie Munson.

So he pushed the thoughts away, the ooey galaxy of cotton candy trees and rainbow lollipops— fading back to black as he fell faster harder, back to reality. The dead, decaying ashen life of shitville Hawkins, Indiana. Where reality came in the form of working long days to barely survive. A name branded to his soul, weathered and tarnished like forgotten silverware in a rich dementia riddled woman’s home.

Nothing. Munson trash. The town freak. Social outcast. Scum in the drain. Bastard child.

“Earth to Eddie!”

A snap of your fingers and the impatient wrinkles between your brow bring his soul back to his body.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, wiping his clammy palms on the thighs of the cleanest pair of black jeans he owned, “We—uh,” blush creeps to his cheeks, adamant to push it down, to the cobwebbed box in his brain that never opened, he grabs your hand and starts to yank you towards the door, a gruff annoyance in his voice, “let’s go.”

You’re crestfallen.

Oblivious to his inner intergalactic battles of hoping that he was good enough for you but deep down knowing he never would be.

Not anywhere near the suaveness of Casanova he pretends to possess on most days, motor-mouth Munson was all out of gas. Spending his last tank, last drop of fuel taking you to the moon and spinning you amongst the stars.

Steve is wearing a black suit, standing against a new SUV, shiny ink black like the velvet of your dress, and the pretty girl’s hair standing next to him, she’s wearing a purple velour sweetheart neckline dress, with rhinestone straps, her shoulders are bare until the dress continues to cover her arms, into a full sleeve. Robin is hanging out of the back passenger side window, a tie hung loosely around her neck and a white button down tailored shirt adorning her body. Waving a bottle of Boonesfarm around.

“Come on! Let’s party like it’s 1984! Before Steve had this new bitchin’ car and still half of his virgini—“

“Robin!” Steve scolds, threading his fingers through his hair, the girl on his arm shooting Robin a pleasurable laugh, her hand on Steve’s chest.

Eddie is still dragging you along, hurrying you along. In a rush but not saying a word. “Eddie, Jesus Christ, stop, I have to get my purse,” you yank your wrist from his grip and take a step backward. Silent and fuming, your arms crossed over your chest. Looking up at him with water brimmed eyes, corners of your mouth turned downward in a confused frown.

It’s the same expression he had seen during the first few days he had moved in, when he hurt you.

Shaking his head with a huff he descends the concrete steps and stands next to Robin, clutching the Boonesfarm bottle and taking a long hefty swig, wallowing in his own self pity and self doubt of never being good enough for you.

Of course this is how it would be with you. Why would you ever want him when there are people like Steve Harrington in the world. Offering you anything and everything you could ever need. And what could he offer you? Nothing. A tainted name and a ring pop replacing a diamond.

He wasn’t good enough for Chrissy, wasn’t good enough for Trish. How would you be any different? Swallowing his pride with each swig of the sugary Boonesfarm, he tries his hardest to push the idea of you wanting to be with him, wanting anything other than someone to take up space and pay rent on time, out of his mind.

“Tooty,” Steve says, waving you over once you shut the door to the house and locked it, “Eddie, this is Leighanne, my girlfriend.”

A smile breaks on your face, pure unadulterated joy for your friend. The way his face lit up saying girlfriend, the way they’re clutched together, a perfect match, him looking adoringly into her face, staring in wonder and awe as she beams a radiating light back up to him— it’s sugar sweet.

A low ache in your chest fires again, whatever had burned for Eddie was now boiling on high heat but the pot was empty.

You thought that maybe he… hadn’t he? The bitter truth stinging your tongue, not admitting it to yourself. Not allowing yourself to think any further on the subject, you extend your smile to Leighanne. Pleasantries in your voice as you push down your own worrying heart and open it up to hear all about how Leighanne and Steve met.

“Damn, new fancy job and a car to match— never seen one of these in real life before Harrington.”

Steve dives into the story of him trading in his car for the G Wagon, a year old and less than 10,000 miles. Eddie asked questions and walked around the vehicle with Steve as he kicked the tires and inspected the paint job.

The ride to Indianapolis was full of Leighanne’s bright laugh, teasing Steve and joking with Robin. Her fingers never unlaced from his. She was funny, charismatic in a way that complimented Steve. You’re stuffed in the middle in the backseat. Robin on your left and Eddie on your right, preoccupied with staring out the window.

He’s brooding, steeping like a tea bag in the heat of the sun. Only he’s cold, off putting and sulking. Not engaging once in conversation other than. Answering yes or no to Steve’s questions, giving little up.

And you were doing the same, trying hard to focus on what Robin and Leighanne were giggling about but finding Eddie’s bad mood taking you over. His pitch black aura sucking you in and consuming you. Dampening the celebratory night for your friend that hasn’t even begun because he’s irritated by God knows what. It’s the longest ride to Indianapolis you’ve experienced yet.

The restaurant is burnt brick with an old prohibition era feel to it. Low jazz music is playing by a live band in the back corner. Reservations for Harrington bring the five of you to a secluded area low lit with hues of blacks and coppers and mahogany wood filling the space, setting the ambience for a private affair. The round table is set with a cream colored silk cloth that alone probably cost more than the value of your house.

Steve pulls out a chair for Leighanne. A pinky rouge on her cheeks as she sits down delicately. Robin climbs next to her, body angled towards her, her feet on the seat of her chair.

Taking the seat next to Robin, Eddie takes the seat next to you, angling it ever so slightly away from you, his right elbow on the table, head facing away from you.

What the fuck?

Two waiters arrive holding a large round platter filled with various selections of wines, whiskey, and beers in stout glasses. Each one filled to the brim of the finest liquor ranging in black browned ale to lighter amber on one side, the others full of their house made brew, an inch head of foam in each glass, and wine ranging from white to a deep burgundy red.

Before the waiter can even walk away Eddie has two glasses of the dark colored whiskey in front of him, shooting them down like he’s at a high school party and has a curfew. “Shit man, these are for sipping, ya gotta ease into it a little,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie grabs another glass from the circle of the platter, sipping it slow between his lips, letting the fervor of the liquor burn his mouth, welcoming the burn.

Eddie hasn’t said a word to you all night. In fact— he’s ignoring you. Usually the first to start joking around, he’s completely sullen, sinking into his bad mood letting the veil of self loathing cover himself like a blanket, choking his insides. He’d converse with everyone but you. “Can you pass the pepper,” you’d asked after laughing obnoxiously with Leighanne about how Steve couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

Silence.

“Eddie?” You ask again, “can you please pass me the pepper?”

Another ignored moment of silence from the brooding metalhead.

“Eddie! Hello!?”

Nothing.

A swift kick from Steve to the shins finally roused him alive, blinking his eyes slowly away from his glass, thumb moving over the condensation. “Dude—Tooty needs the pepper.”

Eddie looks at the pepper shaker with hooded, bored eyes, far from the conversation around the table. Trapped in the black box of dread in his mind. He scoots it closer to you but not enough by far. Scooting your chair back with a screech, you stand and lean across him, fully in his space. Encroaching on his doomed self with your perfume wafting into his nose. Your hairspray stinging his eyes when your hair brushes over your shoulder in front of him. It’s intoxicating. The way your necklace catches the light, as you lean over him hits his chest like a lightning bolt. b

A quick turn of your face and he catches your glare, heated and angry, but his eyes are soft, solemn, sad.

“Thanks, Eddie— really appreciate you helping me out there. Next time I’ll just lay across the table when I need something, or I could simply go fuck myself if that’s easier for you? Don’t want to interrupt whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.” you spit, venom on your lips dripping from your teeth as you aggressively shake the pepper on the salad.

Eddie stands abruptly, “going for a smoke,” he says to nobody in particular, Steve stands and follows him out, with the helping nudge of Leighanne’s elbow in his ribs.

The two guys strut outside, breathing in the night air, a flick of lighters and the burning, crinkling sound of the end of two cigarettes fills the almost barren sidewalk. A minute or so passes before Steve speaks first, “nice night out, considering it’s the middle of November.”

Eddie only nods, inhaling the smoke and trying to relax.

“You alright?”

Again, Eddie only answers with body movements, shrugging his shoulders, blowing smoke through his nose.

Steve inhaled his cigarette slow, “Tooty looks nice tonight.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip and rubs his eyes with this thumb. Smoke curling around him in a makeshift halo. “Yeah,” he finally speaks, nodding his head, a huffed chuckle on his lips, “she does, doesn’t she?”

“What’s going on, man?” Steve questions, “last I knew you were head over heels for her— now you’re ignoring her and acting like a jackass in there.” He says pointing to the door, “you’re gonna fuck this up before you’ve even let it start!”

Eddie shoves himself off the wall, the cobwebs on the box in his mind where he stored his pain, were wiped away, fingerprints on the lid, “oh give it up, Harrington.” Rubbing his hands down his face with a groan, “I’m— fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. Falling for someone like her.”

“What do you mean someone like her?” Steve asks frustrated, “fuck man you really are dumb aren’t you?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his chest puffed out in confusion, “this isn’t like some magic eight ball shaking it to see if your crush likes you Steve! That’s not how shit works!”

“You’re a dumbass! Even I can see that she’s hurt by the way you’re acting!” Steve shouts, stomping out his cigarette.

“Dude I’m not talking about this right now, back off,” Eddie pleads, flicking his cigarette into the street and attempting to walk around Steve.

“Why are you being an asshole and trying to shove her away?” Steve goads.

“I’m not.” Lid is off the box, contents exposed.

“Don’t be a douche fucking tell me!”

“Because she’s too fucking good for me!” Eddie finally screams into the night, throwing his hands up in the air.

The box is dumped out. Contents spilled out in his mind, hurt behind his eyes, for anyone to see.

He hangs his head, shoulders slumped forward, he slides down the wall and sits on the cool concrete, breathing heavily, “She’s— fuck, she’s never gonna want to be with someone like me, man.”

All of his self doubt from earlier tonight, all the pain he’s ever felt from being a neglected child, an outcast in school amongst his peers, being cheated on, lied to— it all came crashing down around him. All the alcohol he consumed wasn’t helping matters either.

He was a failure, in more ways than he could count. Twenty-six and just freshly moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-six and still playing in a band at the bar on the weekends. Twenty-six and still alone. Horribly, utterly, bitterly alone. Drowning himself in groupie pussy every night before he moved in with you. He hated himself.

“Has she said that? Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks? You think it was easy for her to stay in Hawkins after her parents up and left? After Kevin was thrown in prison? After that piece of shit Chad Cunningham hurt her? If there’s anything we know about Tooty it’s that she’s a fighter, she could have left at any time, packed her shit and never looked in the rear view mirror. But you and I know that she’s too damn stubborn to let Hawkins get the best of her.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at Steve sitting beside him.

“She needs you, man, you’re good for her.”

Mansion dreams on a trailer park budget. He could never afford the things you deserved. He loathed the thought of anyone else being able to give you the things he couldn’t, the pit of his stomach rolling.

“I don’t know, Steve,” Eddie says, timidly throwing his curly head against the brick behind him, “I saw her today all dressed up looking so absolutely gorgeous, and it hit me, I could never give her the life she deserves.”

“Come on, man,” Steve chides, knocking his shoulder to Eddie’s, “you really think I would have told you about her needing a roommate and insisting that you go and look at the house, if I didn’t think you’d be good for each other?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders again, the self doubt creeping back, putting the box back together.

“After Nancy moved out, I knew she was scared— she’d never say anything about it, but we worried about it. She needed someone around who she could trust. Robin and I couldn’t get out of our lease, but then you told me you were looking for a place, and honestly there isn’t anyone better for her than you.”

Eddie thinks on this for a few seconds. Steve was right, he did fuck this up. “Christ, she’s probably madder than hell at me right now,” he says with a groan.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, standing and holding out a hand for Eddie, “you’ve got some making up to do.”

“Am I drunk, or is he acting weird as hell tonight, like more weird than usual?” Robin slurs, almost falling out of her seat as she whisper-yells across the table at you the minute Steve follows Eddie out the door.

“Oh, honey,” Leighanne whispers, holding Robin by her arm and guiding her back into the chair, “you’re very drunk, but also I’ve never met him, but he seems sad.”

Stewing in a pot of shame and regret, you try to tune Robin and Leighanne out. A shiver of hatred stirs in your chest, pulling at your heart strings and gnawing on the fleshy stretch cords until they’re rotting, black and withered.

How silly of you to be so nervous about wearing this dress, when Eddie only took one look at you and immediately turned sour. How stupid of you to think that he had somehow turned into a decent human being, a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on when you were desperate and needing consoling. How fucking dumb of you to be so mad in this moment that he was ignoring you, acting like a complete jerk and ruining this nice evening by being a pouty child.

Fuck him, and fuck this.

Reaching for the now warm wine you toss it back, chugging until your throat ached. It’s easier to swallow than the embarrassing way you thought that Eddie was growing to like you. Your mistake.

Won’t happen again.

By the time the guys come back, you were slightly buzzed, feeling giggling with the bubbling of the flutes of champagne that had been brought out after the dinner was cleared from the table.

Steve slaps Eddie on the back and shakes his shoulders a bit, sitting down quickly beside Leighanne and whispering into her ear, she turns scarlet red as he nudges his nose down to kiss her neck. You turn your face away, ashamed again, for wanting a love like that so bad, yet sold short.

“You okay?” Robin asks Eddie. You can feel eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, but you won’t give him the time of day. To hell with him.

He answers her back, making up some lame excuse about not feeling good as to why he was acting like an asshole all night.

“Hmm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows and huffing. Tossing your napkin from your lap onto the table, grabbing another flute of champagne and downing it instantly, crossing your legs and leaning further away from him. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Tooty?” His voice is soft, dipped in butter and spread across a warm croissant. Almost timid the way he’s barely speaking above a whisper, you pretend not to hear him.

A nudge in your side goes unanswered as you turn your face towards an almost passed out Robin. Another poke to the ribs, a ticklish spot for anyone. A tap on your hand, fervent and annoying, your name repeated in high and low tones, as you actively avoid him. He finally stops, and when he does you take a shaky breath, right as your chair is flung backwards on the back legs, and you’re suddenly upside down, peering into Eddie’s face. That cocky Munson grin plastered onto it, the one you haven’t seen all night, sends shock waves to your core, and a burn to your chest.

Goddamn him.

“Put me down,” you emphasize with bitterness behind each word.

Eddie smiles widely, “not until you talk to me, sweetheart,”

“Oh look at that everyone, the pouting child act is over, guess we are blessed after all,” you spit back, crossing your arms and trying to wriggle the chair free.

His smile is pulled back slightly, voice dipped low as he leans forward slightly, “can we talk? Privately?”

You glare back at him, venomous cold eyes peering into his, hoping he understood how annoyed and hurt you were with the bullshit he’d been pulling for hours, “Congratulations on finding your voice Ariel, but if you don’t put my chair down I’ll—“

“What? You’ll do what?” Eddie bickers back with a grin, leaning closer you can smell his musky cologne, and the burnt scent of his cigarette on his breath. He enjoys watching you squirm and get pissed off at him. Something about the way you scold him sends him over the moon.

But, he could never anticipate what you would do next.

His hands on the back of your chair, you turn your head in a swift motion and find his thumb and bite down on it until he squeals and yelps in pain.

“…bite you,”

Instinct taking over Eddie pulls his hands from the back of your chair. And you start tumbling backwards. Falling falling, reaching backwards, you grab onto the first thing you can get your frantic hands on.

It all happens too fast, one minute you’re falling backwards, the next your fingers are gripped tight on the buckle of Eddie’s belt. Your breath hitched in your chest, as you grappled to stay upwards. In a swift motion Eddie grabs under your arms and the chair falls to the ground.

Eddie pulls you up, your body skimming his as he turns you around to face him. “Damn, I’m right here. No need to get so handsy,” he murmurs in a low husky laugh.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, sudden shock of fear fading from your body as you look into his face. Even though he’s laughing, his pupils are blown and dark, eyebrows twisted inward, and raised, pulled into concern.

“Fuck Munson,” you say, straightening your dress, trying not to melt from the heat of Eddie’s hands on your waist, “trying to kill me?” The room was spinning, you hadn’t hit your head, but maybe the rush of falling backwards mixed with the alcohol you had drank was a combination for a migraine. Definitely not the way he was lazily drinking you in, his lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile.

“Kill you?” He scoffs, hands still heavy on your waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs, sending your nerves into a fizzing frenzy of want. “I’m not the one biting others, kitten.”

Of all the nicknames Eddie has called you— princess, sweetheart, baby— kitten was a new one. And you’re ashamed at the pulse in your core and the heat in your cheeks as his eyes twinkle like brown Christmas lights back at you, the flick of his tongue against his lips almost sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Hey—“ Steve interrupts, stepping into your peripheral vision, “—don’t mean to break this up—but we have a problem.”

“Alright guys, good news or bad news?”

Steve steps through the lobby door to the sidewalk, where you, Leighanne, Robin and Eddie were all waiting for him. The chill of the night air is biting through your tights and stinging your cheeks. Even in the cozy musky warmth of Eddie’s leather jacket that he insisted on you wearing, after listening to your chattering teeth for ten minutes, “here,” he announced, stopping abruptly and shucking the jacket off his arms, and wrapping it around your shoulders, “I swear you’re gonna chip your teeth with the way you’re chattering them, it’s annoying,” he said in a faux grumble, his voice mean but his face lighting up when you hurriedly slot your arms through his jacket. Inhaling his smoke musk and cool leather combination as it dizzied your mind.

Ever since the restaurant kicked you all out on account of being too drunk, you’d been walking to a hotel. The restaurant manager had refused to let Steve get his car from the valet because they thought he was too intoxicated to drive. And also denied him from using the phone to hail a cab. There was no other choice.

So that's what led you all here. Walking fifteen blocks— in heels, dresses and fancy shirts, to the nearest hotel. Well technically thirty blocks because the waiter gave Steve the wrong directions. Everyone was freezing, tired and crabby. The drunken happy stage left about twenty blocks back.

“Bad news, Harrington hit me,” Eddie gripes.

Steve brushes his fingers through his hair, “Okay, uhh—bad news… there’s only one room available, with two beds.”

“But, there’s one… two…three..four.. six of us!” Robin counts, hiccuping loudly and letting a giggle escape her slack mouth. Maybe the restaurant wasn’t wrong in kicking you all out after all.

“No— there’s five of us, but there is a chair!” Steve chimes, “that’s the good news!”

You knew what that meant, obviously you would be sharing a bed with Robin or Eddie, and given the fact that Robin was probably a good ten minutes away before she started throwing up like she was notorious for— you were about to share a bed with Eddie.

The room was small but decent. Maroon, itchy bedspreads with pilling fabric sat atop the beds, white linen sheets and overly stuffed pillows with matching cases shoved into the perfectly made beds. A tiny tv sat atop a chestnut dresser complete with channel listings and a remote velcroed to it. Leighanne crosses the room and immediately finds the furnace, cranking it up as high as it will go and shutting the drapes, she sits on the bed furthest from it, and begins taking her earrings out of her ears. Sighing with relief as the heavy dangly bejeweled gems clink onto the bedside table. Steve sits beside her, leaning forward and grabbing her ankle, delicately sliding the strappy heels from her sore feet, rubbing them between his hands and murmuring apologies to her, kissing her shoulder.

Eddie is kicking the toe of his boot into the carpet, hands pushed into his pockets and looking downward. The awkward question of who-will-sleep-where is weighing heavy on your mind, just when you’re about to ask him what he thinks, Robin pushes between you both and makes a mad dash to the bathroom. Like clockwork.

“I’m never letting her drink again!” Steve says with a huff, “every time, she does this every single time!”

You snort out an exhausted giggle, this night went to hell in a handbasket the minute you left Hawkins. The only thing left to do was laugh about it.

Leaning your body against the wall, you carefully step out of your heels, the dingy carpet a glorious welcome to your aching feet. Stretching your toes out and wiggling them against the carpet brings a sigh to your lips.

Body tired from the constant shivering and cramped calves, you couldn’t wait to get the dress off and feel the warmth of the blanket around you, cocooning yourself like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Fuck.

You didn’t have any clothes with you, just the dress you were wearing, tights and a black thong. If it was Eddie you’d be sharing a bed with, what the hell were you supposed to wear? The thought hadn’t even trickled into your mind until this very second as you noticed Eddie unlace his boots.

Panic riddles your body, fuck would you lay naked next to him? Should you keep the dress on?

“Hey,” Eddie whispers into your ear, reigning you back in with his velvet voice, “there’s a vending machine by the elevator, wanna come with me?”

His lips contort into a smirk, and his hair wisps against your cheek, tickling your skin as you turn into him. Still wearing his jacket the neckline covers your mouth and nose as you nod your head yes.

The low pile fibers of the emerald and turquoise hallway carpet feels plush and luxurious against your nylon toes. A welcomed dream to your throbbing feet. You focus on the intricate leaves pattern as you walk the hallway with Eddie, his socked feet thudding along softly in tandem with yours.

The silence is deafening, and you can practically hear your heart beat out of your chest when his knuckles ever so gently, ever so delicately, graze yours as he swings his hand when he walks.

“Think it’s this way,” Eddie says pointing a thick ringed finger down a hallway at a T intersection. “I’m so hungry I’m going to eat the carpet if I don’t find something to eat.”

“Should have ate while we were at the restaurant,” you poke at him, “but you were too busy being an asshole.”

Eddie chokes out a throaty laugh, “I saved your life, Tooty— how am I still an asshole?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call me-falling-because-you-tipped-my-chair-backwards saving my life, but whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” you barely choke out the last part before you burst into a too-tired giggle, hiding your mouth with the collar of his jacket.

His own nickname on your lips burns his insides, mocking or not he wanted to hear it again and again.

“You fight dirty, I had no idea you were into biting.” Eddie teases, his eyes bright and playful matching his smirk, the vending machine comes into view and his eyes light up even more, “oh fuck yeah, come to daddy!”

The black vending machine is lit with a flickering light over head. Eddie thumbs through his wallet and grabs out ten one dollar bills.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eddie crooned, “pick your vice.”

Deciding on a package of orange squared crackers with cheese, Eddie buys a bag of chocolate cookies, chips, and two bags of candy.

Carrying five cans of pop from the pop machine and Eddie’s plethora of snacks, both of your arms are full.

“So back to you assaulting me—I’m going to take your dental record down to Hopper— I’m turning you in.”

Laughing harder than anyone should have at midnight, your laugh echoes off he walls and bounces around the hallway. Making Eddie’s heart soar with glee. “Turning me in huh?”

Eddie knocks his shoulder into yours, throwing you off balance slightly, “yeah, I’m turning you in, you could have rabies! And I could start foaming at the mouth in my sleep, you’re dangerous and when I get home I’m taking you to the vet!”

The flirty banter is undeniable between you, his giggles match yours as you pad slowly down the hallway. Cheeks burning, coy smiles filling the empty hallway.

Stopping in the hallway with one hip thrown out and a perfectly placed look of innocence on your face you ask in the sweetest voice you could muster, “I’m dangerous? Me?” Making sure you bat your lashes and pout your bottom lip.

Here it was, his opportunity to show you what you really meant to him. No longer laughing, his face turns very serious. Shuffling the snacks around in his arms so he has a hand free, he reaches up to your face, tracing the outline of your jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb delicately against your cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers, that velvet smooth voice on his tongue, eyes dipped in gold and yearning into your own, “I wouldn’t turn this cute face in even if you murdered that son-of-a-bitch, Mr. Derry.”

Heart rate increases, you’re sure there's a pulse where Eddie’s hand is placed on your cheek. The calloused pads of his thumbs stroking your cheek has you weak in the knees. Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Cute?” You exclaim, feigning shock, heat trickling up your neck and planting itself into your cheeks, the warmth spreading below Eddie’s hand.

His eyes are trained on yours, flicking from your lips and back up again, and you know whatever he says next 100%, without a doubt shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Tooty,” Eddie breathes, his voice melting around you, forming to every cell in your body and holding you tight. “You’re beautiful, and not just tonight…every single day.”

No one.

Not your parents.

Definitely, not Chad.

Nobody.

Has ever uttered those words to you. The final wall around your heart falls, crumbling at the base with Eddie holding a sledge hammer to it, begging to be let in.

This menace, prick, pervert, absolutely disgusting man. Has made you fall for him and without words has made it clear that he’s falling for you too.

Butterflies tickle your stomach the rest of the walk back to the room.

Steve and Leighanne are already asleep by the time you make it back, she’s wrapped tight against his bare chest, a hand threaded at the nape of his neck and through the tufts of his chest hair. His lips lay lazily against her forehead.

Robin took the comforter from the other bed and made a makeshift bed in the tub, Eddie places a can of 7-UP next to her, rustling her hair and making sure she’ll be okay for the night.

Flipping through the channels and leaning your back against the headboard, you find an episode of the Golden Girls, opening your snack crackers and nibbling into them,a can of Pepsi nestled between your knees. Eddie runs and jumps onto the bed beside you and starts ripping open his snacks, starting with the chips, and cracking open a can of Mountain Dew. Chugging the lime colored liquid until it drops down his chin.

He lets out a louder than life belch and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Looking over at you to see if you’re impressed.

You raise up ten fingers and clap, applauding his behavior.

“I’d like to thank my fans, and the Pepsi company, for encouraging the best of burps, with the help of carbonation.” He bows and waves like he’s at the academy awards and you giggle along with him.

You both stay like that for a while, on top of the blankets, watching the Golden Girls and eating snacks, content with filling your stomachs with crappy food and over carbonated beverages.

The looming idea of sleeping in the same bed with Eddie is no longer something you can avoid, when a loud yawn escapes your body and has you snuggling deeper into his leather jacket.

“I—I can sleep in the chair, or on the floor.” He says quickly.

The idea of him sleeping on the floor or with a strained neck in the office chair is unacceptable to you. “No, you can sleep in the bed with me, we can—“ thinking fast for an easy solution, “we can just use different blankets.”

“Oh good,” Eddie whispers, taking off his already loosened tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, “because I would bet a million dollars that you’re a blanket thief.”

Laughing and unzipping his leather jacket, you smirk, hanging it on the back of the chair, “how do you have the vocabulary of a ten year old and a foul sailor all at the same time?”

Eddie unzips his pants and untangles his legs from the dark denim, sitting on the bed with a groan in just his boxer briefs, “I’m like a poor Peter Pan, who grew up on the wrong side of tracks, I’ll never grow up.”

Foregoing any previous thoughts of keeping the dress on, you decide to take it off, exhausted from the night, the cold seeping into your bones and chilling them made you almost delirious with needing sleep, “Can you—will you close your eyes?” You ask in a hushed voice, “at least until I lay down?”

Eddie yanks hard on the sheet and wraps it around his head in a giant makeshift blindfold. “Will this work?”

This angle gives you free range to see his body. It’s not as if you haven’t seen him like this before, but this time it felt different. Every inch of his creamed colored skin, every inky smoked out line of tattoos, the veins protruding from his muscled arms, the ruddy roughness of his knuckles, ghosting with the silver rings on his fingers and in his nipples. The fading sun colored bruises on his ribs. You could write sonnets on the way his breath expands his chest and falls back flush with the rest of his body.

It’s hard to peel your eyes away, but you manage, grabbing your dress by the bottom hem lifting it off of your body. Sliding the tights down your legs until you are completely naked besides the silk black thong. Covering yourself with the off white cotton threaded blanket on the bed, you wrap it around you and sit delicately on the other side of the bed, facing the window, and the furnace.

“I’m done,” you announce, laying your head onto the goose feather pillow and facing Eddie, curling your legs to your chest. Taking slow breaths through your nose to even out your nerves and settle yourself down, the excitement of laying next to Eddie in a bed with both of you only wearing underwear has your body throbbing.

“Finally!” He exaggerates, “were you wearing a dress from the 1800s with all those fancy layers?”

“I was having some trouble with the zipper,” you lie.

“Funny—“ Eddie preens, “I didn’t see a zipper on your dress.”

The idea of him watching you, eyes stuck on your silhouette all night, through dinner, walking to the hotel, makes you feel less bad about staring at him before you crawled into bed. You clench your thighs together.

“How would you know there wasn’t a zipper? Unless of course— you were gawking.”

Two can play this game, and what Eddie didn’t realize is that you’d gotten pretty good at bantering with him.

“Why would you say your dress had a zipper when it didn’t? Maybe you were the one gawking, I mean I get it sweetheart, I’m funny and sexy. Double whammy.”

“Good night, Eddie.” You say with a final laugh. “And I swear to God, if this bed starts jerking in any way—I’ll shave your head and bleach your eyebrows.”

He lets out a laugh loud enough that it makes Steve roll over, scolding you both, about the time and needing to get some sleep. Always in mom mode.

“Sorry dad,” Eddie whispers, giggling like a little kid as he tucks himself in, and turns off the tv and the light between the two beds.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, allowing sleep to take over your body. Sleep finds you quickly, a deep dreamless sleep, you aren’t sure if you’re awake or not when you feel a pair of lips on the crown of your hair line, a hand moving your hair away from your face, and a voice whispering to you, “good night, pretty girl.”

The next morning, Steve drops you and Eddie off at your house. The ride home seemed to drag on forever, everyone was hungover and trying to stay awake. Robin having her head out of the window for most of the drive. Still gagging from the night before.

Getting into Hawkins, Eddie turns towards you, a menacing smirk on his lips and a devil gleam in his eyes, “rock, paper scissors for dibs on first shower?”

“You’re on Munson,”

“I just don’t understand how paper beats rock!” Eddie complains as he takes a piss talking to you as you take a shower. The humidtiy from the bathroom moistens his curls, frizzing them into oblivion, “in what fucking universe does a paper lying over a goddamn rock win?”

Placing the razor against the white pillowy peaks of the shaving cream you slide it up your leg, careful to not cut your knee. “Don’t be a sore loser because you chose rock three times in a row.

“It’s the most common way to win!” He whines, slamming the toilet seat down and plopping himself on top of it. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve been freezing for 24 hours, I never warmed up lastnight.”

Rinsing the last bit of conditioner from your hair you turn the water off, throwing a hand out from the shower curtain to reach for your robe, wrapping it around you tightly, and opening the shower, you notice that Eddie looks paler than usual.

“Are you getting sick?” You place the back of your hand on his forehead, it’s clammy and abnormally warm. The twinkle he almost always has in his eyes is gone, he looks rundown. “In the nicest way possible, you look like hell.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie complains.

“Here,” you offer, starting the water for him, “take a hot shower and I’ll go make us some food.”

When Eddie gets out of the shower the kitchen smells of sweet thick batter, sprinkled with a hint of cinnamon. The waffle iron you had bought with Nancy before Halloween worked like a dream, it was in better condition than you had thought.

Two plates are sitting on the counter, as Eddie walks into the kitchen, wearing a hoodie and sweats, he comes behind you, moving your hips gently to the side as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re making.

“Waffles?!” He squeals into your ear, “I didn’t know we even had a waffle press thing,” he says, messing up your still damp hair with a tousle, “wait is that the thing that’s kept in the bathroom under the sink?”

Racking your brain you try to envision what he’s thinking of, “no Eddie that would be Nancy’s hot rollers, for her hair..”

“Well that’s not edible,” he says walking to the fridge and pulling out his jug of milk.

Hollering over your shoulder and opening the waffle iron to carefully remove the perfect round breakfast delicacy from the iron with a fork, you announce, “that’s why they’re in the bathroom, under the sink. I bought the waffle iron when Nancy and I went shopping a few weeks ago, how are you feeling?”

Taking a big gulp of milk Eddie mutters, “better, much better, I’m just really tired.”

Plating the waffles and getting the syrup from the cabinet you set the plates down at the table, bringing over two glasses and two sets of silverware, “can you grab the orange juice, and the butter?”

Bringing the requested items to the table, Eddie sets them down, next to the napkin holder. Grabbing a knife hastily and spreading the pale yellow butter around the crispy pockets of the waffle, melting into delicious puddles of savory goodness, awaiting the courtship to be reunited with the sticky sweet syrup to combine into heavenly wedded bliss.

Cutting his waffle and diving in, the kitchen is surrounded by sound of Eddie’s satisfied moans, “fuck,” he cries with a mouthful of food, shoveling more in, “this is so fucking good, you’re a saint— no no! Wait, an angel.”

The waffles were good, the perfect amount of crispy and soft. Eddie finished both of his waffles in record time.

“So where did you get this thing?” he asked curiously, pointing to the waffle iron on the counter.

“With Nancy—oh! I completely forgot!” you say excitedly, “I got a record too, it’s by the rest of them near your record player, I didn’t want to use it and break it.”

Eddie pads over to the record player and thumbs through the stack on the shelf.

He had already been staring at the record for over a minute before you spoke again, saying his name asking if he wanted another waffle.

“Damn,” he interrupts you sniffing loudly, “I haven’t heard this since…”

He carefully pulls the sleeve from the record and slots it in place, putting the needle in place. The soft twang of Bobbie Gentry’s guitar plays as she plucks the strings, a few beats in and her sultry, smoky voice begins singing, retelling the story of the day she found out the fate of Billie Joe.

Eddie sits cross legged on the floor next to the record player, staring in awe. His socked feet tucked under his thighs. Elbows digging into his legs.

His mind drifts to a small house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the paint peeling and chipping away, a dog named Ruby running alongside him as he pedals his bike up the dirt lane.

She was standing in the kitchen, her soft brown curls waving behind her as she ashed a cigarette and cut his ham sandwich into squares, taking the crust off. She hummed along to the waning wonky tunes of the radio as Bobbie Gentry sang about Billie Joe. Her smile fading in his memory.

He never allowed himself to think of her. Despite what Uncle Wayne and the therapist at the stuffy office with the seafoam green painted walls, the cheerful posters with kids and their perfect families staring at him as he glared at the floor, toe of his converse trying to dig a hole through the tile. It only brought him sadness. It was something he couldn’t talk about, not to anyone. The panic attacks in the night when he dreamt of the day she was taken from him, right in front of his big doe eyes, would send Wayne into a frenzy. Helping Eddie breath, making the small child ground himself with his surroundings. So he moved on, throwing himself into music, and his friends. Anything to keep his mind from thinking of that day. But here in your living room, twenty years later, it was all he could think of.

Her perfume, hints of jasmine and lilac a tinge of cigarette smoke underneath. The way her glasses were perched on her head as she read through the paper. Her light brown eyes, like caramel apples you’d see at the fair. Her long fingers always thumping along to whatever song she heard. The gift of a piano player. The way she would dance with him in the living room, barefoot and giggly as she swung him around and around. Those were the good memories, the ones before she was ripped away from him.

The song finishes and Eddie leans up onto his knees, placing the needle to replay it again, this time the warm tears are flowing freely, running down his cheeks. He no longer cared if you saw him cry like a baby.

You’re standing at the edge of the kitchen watching him. You figured his mom was dead by the way he never mentioned her. Chrissy once asked him about his parents after he mentioned his Uncle Wayne, and he blew it off, like he blew off lots of things, “shit, think she joined the circus, married the world’s strongest man.” You wonder if the fib was easier for him to tell himself. Rather have her still around, happy and breathing than what she actually was. You’ve only seen him like this one other time and that was after you saw Chad at the grocery store.

Steve had told you how concerned he was when he came in to talk with you. How scared he was, how bad he felt that he wasn’t around to protect you when you needed it. And just like he did for you, you’d do for him.

Walking gently towards him you stand behind him, not sure if lightly touching his shoulder would cross a boundary but wanting to reassure him, you do it anyway. The pads of your fingers daintily skim his shoulders, running soft figure eight patterns. His face is hidden by his curtain of hair but you can hear him sniffling softly. A soft squeeze of his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your bare calf, holding onto dear life as you pull him into you. His death grip on your leg almost has you falling over. You find yourself threading your fingers through his wet hair. Rubbing along his scalp, his shoulders jump and shake with a deep sigh as the song finishes again. Eddie peels himself from you and turns the record player off. Standing and looking at the ground. Toeing the carpet with his sock.

“I have…,” he says, clearing his throat, trying like hell to gain composure, “I haven’t heard that song in years… it was her favorite.”

Reaching for his hand your fingers find their way into the spaces between his. Squeezing and rubbing his pointer figure with the pad of your thumb. “Eddie,” you whisper to him, your small soft voice reaching out to him beckoning him.

His eyes turn to you, tear filled and red, his body shaking with a light sob. Instincts kick in and you don’t realize what’s happening before it does, you drag him down the hallway, into your room. The same room where he comforted you in the warmth of his arms, you sit down on your bed, your back to the headboard and bring him down with you, his head in your lap. his arms wrapped tight around your bare thighs. Brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers, his body is racked with sobs, the tops of your thighs wet with his tears. You rub his back, comforting him and whispering to him that you’re sorry, that it’s okay, that you’re here for him.

The dishes would have to wait.

When you wake, you’re snuggled down into the confinements of your bed. Blankets covering both you and Eddie, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle like a child with a balloon at the fair, afraid to let go. His body is curved with yours, his light snores tickling your hair. Not waking him, you gently fall back asleep, the thought that he was right, skids across your mind.

Eddie was the first guy to sleep in your bed— and your heart leaped when you selfishly hoped he never wanted to leave it.

A/N: SEE YOU IN VOL: VIII HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED

[this message is for read more —, you big nasty, smelling bitch. Why you took me off the mf schedule with your trifflin’ dirty ass. Big bitch Oompa Loompa body ass bitch, I’m comin up there and I’m gonna beat the fuck …… (it’s a reference from TikTok) BUT TRY ME READMORE TRY ME]

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction

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waywardsummoner46 · 7 months

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | One | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 4,343

「✦」 A/N - Long time no see, huh...

「✦」 TAGLIST - Let me know if you'd like to be added :)

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Oh, Ji-Ah! You really didn’t have to, you know.”

Holding your phone up to your ear, your eyes twinkled as they beheld the gifts your friend had gotten you.

“Of course I didn’t have to, but it’s your birthday and I… I wanted to.”

She quietened towards the end of her sentence, and your heart clenched at the sincerity of the gifts and her words.

“Ji-Ah…”

Whilst you were at work that day, she must’ve used her spare key to your apartment and placed all of these presents on your living room table. The book you had been raving over for the past few months was sitting in a brand new giant teddy bear’s lap, all decorated and styled with a bow. A now-opened card sat neatly to their side, a picture of you both from a few years ago on its cover and the sweetest message inside.

As much as you appreciated everything and made sure to verbalise that gratitude to her, you both knew that the book was what held your attention the most. You had spent literal months searching for it, ‘The Hidden War Within.’

When you’d first mentioned it to Ji-Ah, she’d laughed and asked if it was some sort of mindfulness, positive psychology type book. You’d dismissed her playfully, stating that she wasn’t necessarily incorrect but ignored the actual content of the book. ‘The Hidden War Within’ is a novel by a collection of authors over the course of centuries; it’s written from the first person perspective and tells the tale of a lady, every time, who aims to nurture the goodness in people and minimise the evil that could fester. The antagonist, a male whose origins vary, actively dismisses her aims, instead wishing to incite sin and discourse within the people of the land. The descriptions of the constant battle between the pure aims of the protagonist and the insidious intentions of the antagonist captivated you in an inexplicable way; the applications this has to the human race as a whole really piqued your interest.

Philosophical topics was something you dabbled in on occasion but the discussion between good and evil being a force out of the individual control of a person and, instead, determined by forces beyond comprehension did cause some discussion between you and Ji-Ah. Mainly, are people born evil or is it an environmental thing?

The fact that it had been written from numerous authors over the span of centuries was another aspect that only deepened your intrigue. How had authors, all from different parts of the globe and periods of time, collectively written something akin to a timeline of a novel? Realistically, the only thing the stories within the novel had in common was that they discussed the same topic in eerily similar detail just with different historical influences, but that only reinforced the entire philosophical debate of are people born evil.

Undeniably, ‘The Hidden War Within’ had wormed its way as a repetitive topic within your friendship and that enabled your obsession with the novel to grow until you were borderline desperate to possess it for yourself.

So, as you held it in your hands, tears of unfiltered happiness streamed down your face silently. “Thank-” “You are very, very welcome,” she cut you off. Then, there was a pause on her line. “To repay me, if you’re feeling oh-so indebted to me, you have to come out with us for a drink tonight.”

You knew that the tender moment wouldn’t last long, not with Ji-Ah’s aversion to lengthy emotional situations.

Still, you sighed.

“Ji-Ah, you know I don’t drink.” You’d had a few in the past, curious to try it out but it never became anything more than just that - a new experience. Alcohol was off-putting to you, it just never tickled your fancy and after seeing what it can lead to… well, fair to say you’d rather stay away from the stuff.

Ji-Ah, bless her, was very accommodating to this particularity of yours and always ensured that you were as comfortable as possible at any social event. Hence why her next words weren’t a surprise, “You don’t have to drink-drink, but I am going to have lots of drink-drinks… if that’s okay with you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head lightly even though you knew she couldn’t see you. “I trust you, Ji-Ah. I know you’re responsible with it. It’s Jee-Won that I’m dreading, you know how she gets.”

Everyone knew how Jee-Won got after a few drinks, especially at a bar where there were plenty of young, ‘attractive’ men to scope out. Her fascination with picking out another guy at every social event was sad because she could quite easily find someone to truly love her and be loved by her. Alas, you might have to resign yourself to her drunken activities and pray that whoever she invited back to the table tonight would be decent and not equally as unhinged as she could be.

On the other end of the phone call, you could basically hear her thinking of how to convince you to go and as painful as it was to admit to yourself, her persistence was slowly grating at your resilience.

The teddy bear sitting on your living room table was practically begging you with its plastic, unseeing eyes. Ji-Ah had bought you all of those gifts and… it was only one night, wasn’t it? And it was your birthday? Surely, it couldn’t be that bad…

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped your lips and Ji-Ah practically squealed over the phone.

“See you at eight! You will not regret this, (Y/N).”

Somehow, you already did.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It was her fault really that you were in this situation, really. She couldn’t possibly have expected anything different, right?

Maybe she did, maybe she expected you to resist, to battle it off as much as you could but her optimism would be her downfall.

The urge was just too mighty, the temptation too unbearable to deny and you, too unfortunately stubborn for your own good.

Looking down at your tote bag, swimming with an array of different chocolates and a multitude of her favourite sweets, you grinned. She’d definitely kill you for buying these for her but words of thanks just weren’t satisfactory enough. Her gifts had quite literally made you cry; you needed to show her, rather than tell her, just how much you cherished her actions.

Deep down, you knew that she knew that. It was also just fun to see the outrage on her face when you presented her with chocolates or some flowers whenever she’d gone out of her way to spoil you.

Deep down, you also knew that she knew that you knew she secretly likes her efforts being appreciated so much and it always makes for a phenomenal movie night whenever you shower her with a myriad of sweet and sugary specials (not that she’d ever admit to that).

There was something missing from your horde of tradeable valuables and that was, in fact, a palette of different coloured flowers. With a subtle mischief to your stride, you made your way to your most trusted, dear florist ‘Life Rose On’.

The name never fails to make you chuckle.

On Jung-Hee owned the beautiful establishment and had been a friend of sorts since you moved to the area five years ago. When moving into your then-new apartment, you decided that the first step to making the space your own was to liven up each room with different colours and types of flowers.

Your idea worked like a charm and really helped to keep you motivated when unpacking. Jung-Hee very kindly took the time out of her day to help you hand select each individual flower (and entertained your ceaseless indecision); from that day, you always made sure to drop by whenever you were in town to say hello and to drop off some soju. The old lady was very open about her love for the stuff, even if you had no interest in it.

If it was for Jung-Hee, there’s not a lot you wouldn’t do. You loved the elderly lady like your own grandmother and would also lend a helping hand should she need it.

She was similar to you in the way that she always repaid you through gifts for your considerate actions - typically a free bouquet of your favourite flowers.

After a nice stroll through town, you reached the florist.

Unsurprisingly, the window display was stuffed to the brim with a myriad of floral beauties that looked like Mother Nature’s mosaic. Jung-Hee seriously knew how to capture an onlooker's attention and, judging from how many people you could see in the shop beyond the glazed window, she’d succeeded immensely.

You crossed the street, navigating the crowd of people on the pavements.

You got so caught up in the masses of people that you failed to notice the raised step at the entrance of ‘Life Rose On’ and, ultimately, began falling to your doom.

Letting out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, you braced yourself for the impact with the floor that… never came.

Peeling your eyes open in mild confusion, you barely suppressed your gasp of shock at the kind eyes of the stranger that had caught you. You both stayed in whatever position he’d caught you in - you were too out of it to process that properly - and took the opportunity to analyse each others’ face.

He had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen, a gorgeous galaxy of chocolatey velvet wrapped up in his irises. His lips, parted ever so slightly and downturned, were rosey red and were porcelain in their appearance, flawless and beautiful. Delicate waves of dark hair lined his forehead and it took all of your energy not to reach up and smooth a stray strand out.

It felt like hours had passed with you looking into his eyes and examining his face. You couldn’t get enough, there was something so captivating about him, something that made you want to know more-

Someone cleared their throat. Both you and the stranger were shocked out of your respective reveries and a light blush dusted your cheeks. The stranger seemed completely composed, in contrast. The person who’d cleared their throat was a customer trying to leave through the doorway but found it difficult with two humanoid obstacles in the way. You were happy to see that the lady wasn’t a regular, so she probably wouldn’t bump into her on another occasion.

Huffing at your distracted apology, the lady moved past you and the stranger and out of the florist. Now that you and the man were both standing by yourself and pointedly not tripping over some violent, unseen step, you struggled to maintain a neutral expression when you saw how tall he was compared to you.

He was easily six foot tall, and using the door as a substitute measuring tape you guessed that he might be slightly taller than that as well. You cursed yourself internally. Of all the people that had to see and catch you, why did it need to be this man?

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” You questioned with an apology written all over your face.

And, oh, if you thought his face was perfect, then his voice was enough to cause you to ascend. “I’m perfectly fine, are you alright?” how were you supposed to keep composed when his voice sounded like that.

Smiling self-deprecatingly, you responded, “I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And you didn’t, not really. Not when he assured you so confidently that there was absolutely nothing to trouble yourself with. “Tell me your name.”

Instinctually, you went to tell him but something held you back. Possibly the way he’d said it - a demand rather than a question. Possibly something else. Although, It struck you as odd that that was how he’d go about that topic but figuring it was largely irrelevant and most likely you were reading too much into things you gave him your name.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, your name sliding off his tongue so heavenly. “My, how interesting. I used to know someone with the same name.”

Your eyebrows raised in polite surprise. “Oh, really?”

He smiled down at you but there was a pinch of something unpleasant weaved into his expression, “Yes. A very compelling woman, was she.” His sudden emotion made you mildly uncomfortable, feeling as though you’d unintentionally uprooted some harsh forgotten memories.

Before you could say anything, though, the man bowed to you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, (Y/N). My name is Yunho.”

Yunho.

You finally had a name to match his angelic face. It suited him perfectly.

Smiling, a genuine, light-hearted one this time, you mirrored his bow before you both straightened and simply stood there, on the doorway to the shop, and gazed at each other silently. There was something about this man that made you search his eyes, the very deepest, darkest parts of his pupils to find his soul. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside of you said that Yunho was very unique.

Very unique indeed.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

Yunho and you had spoken for another twenty minutes before he’d had to leave.

The entire time, you were hanging off of his every word and couldn’t quite escape the magnetism of his irises. There was something so captivating with the way he spoke; the words he chose, the tone in which they were woven but also how calming his deep voice was. And, oh, his eyes.

You couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Glancing at your phone, the time read 13:26. That left you about six and a half hours before you had to be there, five hours before you had to get ready, four hours before you got some food and only two hours and a half before you went home.

Flowers were the last thing on your list, so once you’d picked out a personalised bouquet for Ji-Ah you’d be able to browse whatever other shops tickled your fancy and then go home, to get ready for your “night out”.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted your decision to go. Realistically, you’d most likely have a phenomenal time if you allowed yourself to indulge in the experience. But sitting on your living room table was the one thing you’d wanted for months; it was finally in your grasp and you couldn’t even read it until tomorrow (because you weren’t stupid, you won’t be leaving the club until two in the morning).

Helplessly, you sighed. There was no way to escape your fate. It was inevitable. At least the flowers were pretty.

‘Life Rose On’ was, for lack of a better word, a labyrinth. The only reason you could get around as quick as you could was because you’d navigated its maze-like twists and turns for five years and, even then, when Jung-Hee decided that the shop was getting “too predictable”, she’d reorganise the entire shop so that any hope of save journey was futile. The woman loved to keep people on their toes, her distaste for monotony something you admired contrary to the perilous jungle that was her shop.

The shop was bigger than it appeared; the bleak outside of the shop didn’t do its magnificent interior any justice. As soon as you entered the florists, an archway made entirely of Japanese Wisteria, Mandevilla and Clematis enveloped you with their sweet smells. Each climbing plant twisting so delicately around the foundations of the archway and certain pieces dangling down in a still, flowery downfall; the occasional petal falling to the ground made walking into the shop feel like you were stepping into another realm with only nature’s best caressing you lightly on their way down to join those who fell before them.

After the winding walkway, there was the option to take a left or a right turn. Both laid out to be the start of a rainbow - the beginning of each row included dark red roses, amaryllis to name a few and continued down the line with plants including sunflowers, bluebells and lavender.

On Jung-Hee loved a spectacle. She was only just getting started.

The overall layout of the shop was circular. So, after making your choice of left or right, you would be brought to a turn that took you further towards the centre of the shop. Instead of beginning from red and going down the rainbow, Jung-Hee intricately places each and every flower on these stands to mirror the symbol of whatever season of the year it was. For example, for Valentine’s day, she had gathered the flowers and created a phenomenal display of plants made to look like a landscape of a couple sitting on a mountain, overlooking the horizon.

What made ‘Life Rose On’ so unique is that Jung-Hee’s life quite literally revolved around the shop and had dedicated her life to making the shop thrive. It was her family heirloom in a way. The building itself had been in her family for generations but she’s been the first to utilise it to its full potential and allow her family home to bloom to its fullest extent.

It was that same ideology that inspired her to make it a florist. Ever the poet, she said that every plant or flower sold was pollen and her customers were the bees, helplessly drawn to its beauty and coming to crave its offerings as sustenance.

“You will always be my favourite bee, my dear,” she always said.

“And you’ll always be my favourite flower,” you’d respond with an unrestrained smile on your face.

After the landscape aisles of the shop, you’d finally reach the centre where the cash register was. Dotted around it, however, were individual stands and displays of flowers that may not have been considered as suitable for the display chosen that month or were simply too big to be practical anywhere more confined.

And sitting at the cash register, looking effortlessly in her element would be Jung-Hee.

Except… she wasn’t there. A young man was sitting there instead, one you’d never heard of before, let alone seen. Jung-Hee had no children nor did she have any nephews of close relations to anyone of his description.

You hadn’t seen his face yet, having turned right after the archway you’d reached the centre from behind the cash register so his back was turned to serve the small line of customers there, but you found it slightly odd that Jung-Hee wasn’t at the register she seemed to be glued to six days a week (it used to be seven but you managed to convince her to take Sunday off to look after herself, rather than others for once).

Biting your lip slightly, you looked down at the collection of blue hyacinths and forget-me-nots you’d collected for Ji-Ah and contemplated coming back at a later date. There was nothing necessarily wrong with having a stranger in Jung-Hee’s place but you had brought along some small things you wanted to give her today and, evidently, you wouldn’t be able to do that. Ji-Ah would still have her flowers and chocolates and whatnot, but at a later date.

Thinking about it, it made more sense to kill two birds with one stone at a later date. You wouldn’t be able to give Ji-Ah the flowers until after they’d died anyway due to your schedules being unaligned after tonight and the florist you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Then again…

“Daisies would work wonderfully with those.”

You jolted and looked up to meet the eyes of one of the prettiest, most angelic people you’ve ever seen in your life. Internally, you were mildly shocked at how such a smooth, deep voice could match such an innocent face and yet, somehow the low baritone of his voice was as pleasurable to listen to as his eyes were to gaze into.

The irony of his rosy red lips wasn’t lost on you.

The man had a birthmark on his cheek, strands of parted black hair framed it like the most cherished picture. Because this man was a work of art, and he deserved to be framed for eternity.

Two men. Two heart-wrenchingly handsome men had crossed paths with you in less than twenty minutes. The first one you’d made a fool of yourself to. You’d be damned if you ruined this chance to redeem yourself, even if only to make yourself feel better,

Meeting his eyes, you took a subtle breath to steel your nerves. “Do you think so? I was debating between purple tulips or just buying them as they are, but I see where you’re coming from.”

Alright, a slight ramble perhaps but at least you didn’t stumble over your words (or your feet like with Yunho).

The way his eyes twinkled with sudden interest gave you a bit of confidence. “An interesting choice, but don’t you think the contrast of the daisy’s white petals against the darker purples and blues would only add to the beauty of them all?”

Contemplatively, you looked down at your hands and imagined the picture he’d painted in your hand. It did make sense, actually. As he said, the contrast between dark and light made a very balanced, very alluring image inside your head. “Ah, you know what? You’re right, that would look lovely.”

He leant back (you didn’t register when he’d closed a slight distance between you), and looked proud of himself. Dare you say it, the pleased expression he wore was adorable.

“I’m glad I could help. My name is Yeosang.”

Yeosang.

Just like when you learnt Yunho’s name, something felt so instinctively right about that. Not only did the name suit him perfectly but as though something thrumming underneath your skin calmed after learning his name.

“(Y/N), it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help, Yeosang-ssi,” you bow deeply so that he avoids seeing the blush dusted across your cheeks. You don’t know what it was, but there was something going on with you today. First Yunho, now Yeosang. Two complete strangers that had affected you more in two minutes than a lot of people had in two years.

“You’re very welcome, (Y/N).”

Yeosang helped you to find however many daisies you wanted (six) and walked you to the register, all while making small talk. It was only when you saw him stand behind the counter rather than in the queue did you make the connection between the mysterious new worker and this kind stranger.

Lips parting softly, you placed the flowers into his outstretched hand for him to place them into the bouquet wrapping. “How long have you worked here?”

His hands worked the ribbon around the patterned wrapping so expertly that you wondered how much practice he’d had at this. “I’ve been here for about two years this month.”

Two years? Impossible, you would’ve run into him at some point with how frequently you visit the shop. And even if by the very small chance that hadn’t occurred, Jung-Hee would’ve told you of such a development.

“How come Jung-Hee never mentioned you?”

At your question, his hands slowed momentarily but picked up from his slight hesitation as though nothing had happened. “You know Jung-Hee?”

“I’ve known her for nearly five years now. She’s always been wonderful company and an even better friend.”

He hummed thoughtfully, “I find it odd she never mentioned me, I must admit.” Finishing wrapping the flowers up, he made eye contact with you again and the sudden tenseness and mild hostility you found in them caught you off guard. “She and I have a very complicated relationship but one that I cherish, nonetheless.”

You waited for a few seconds for him to elaborate but once he remained silent for the same amount of time, it became clear he wasn’t going to answer further.

A part of you still wanted to know where Jung-Hee was today, and you were about to ask when he reached down to something on the shielded side of the counter, hidden from your view.

Bringing his hand up, you saw that he’d picked a singular purple rose. He twirled it in his hand for a bit, admiring its rare beauty, before making eye contact with you once again. Slowly, as though giving you the opportunity to step back should you wish, he raised the rose to your head and tucked it gently behind your ear.

His hand lingered by your cheek for a second longer than it should’ve, especially considering the short amount of time you’d known him… but, you’d be lying if you said that closeness, even the faintest amount of it, wasn’t the best thing you’d experienced in a long, long time.

Appearing reluctant, he pulled back. “Goodbye, (Y/N). I hope I’ll see you again soon.” His voice was a whisper but carried the weight of a winter wind.

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. If the slight twitching of his lips was anything to go by, he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

You met his eyes, the look he was giving you so tender it made saying this goodbye almost unbearable. “Goodbye, Yeosang.”

After leaving the innermost circle of the shop, you felt like a weight was settling off of your lungs. You didn’t even recognise how difficult it had become to breathe there, nor had you recognize how unexplainably painful it was to depart from Yeosang only after knowing him for fifteen minutes.

A rush of something euphoric had spread through you after he’d given you the flower, and coupled with the barest touch to your cheek your emotions had been sent tumbling. You stepped out of the shop and, for the first time in a long time, felt like there was something more to your life again. As though you’d found your purpose.

Oh, how little you knew.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

#ateez x reader #ot8 x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #yandere ateez #yandere ateez x reader #dark ateez

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pervprincealwayswins · 1 year

Text

Hello!!

I am right now taking requests for a few (various)char x char/reader oneshots (It can be smut too), reactions, headcanons and scenarios!

If you want to request anything here's what you need to know!! 🥰

Requirements:

Read this list beforehand

Specify whether its MalexMale, Male4GN or Male4Fem (And if you want an openly trans reader or the chars to be, feel free to specify that also!)

The request follows the list below

Smut REQUESTS FROM 16+ people only

Fandoms:

Death Note

Diabolik Lovers

Once Upon A Time

Black Butler

Harry Potter

(Love) interests you can pick from:

L Lawliet

Mello

Matt

Beyond Birthday

Light Yagami

Ryuk (pre glowdown or after glowdown iykyk)

All Sakamaki brothers (except Kino)

Carla Tsukinami

Azusa Mukami

Peter Pan from OUAT

Captain hook from OUAT

Hercules from OUAT

Grell Sutcliff

Sebastian Michealis

Universes:

Draco Malfoy

Omegaverse

Fatasyverse

Pirateverse

Normal

Time:

Modern

Medieval

Victorian

Types:

Fluff

Smut

Romance

(any combination of these 3)

Scenario's

Questions to characters

Headcanons

My hard limits:

No DDLG/B (or any variation)

No ed/r-word scenario's

No parental abuse scenario's

No incest ships (non relative AUs are accepted)

No weird age gaps

Anything im uncomfortable with (I'll let you know)

Sexist, racist or bigotry encourging plots

You can either put it in my ask box, DM me your request, or comment it under this post. If i have any questions or have made your request i will notify you! :)

Thats it, if you have any questions feel free to ask away!

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invisible-lint · 4 months

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Before and After: Birthdays

Lucien x Archeron!Reader

Summary: part of the series of drabbles from before and after you went into the cauldron. These can be read in any order because they aren't chronological. This one is fluff!!

Warnings: mentions of/allusions to sex, but no actual smut

Word Count: 798 (short and sweet)

The male between your legs pauses, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, glancing up at your face. "Are you really not going to tell me when your birthday is?" You lean up on your elbows, raising an eyebrow as you look down at him.

"Does it really matter? The day has never really been that special." Lucien frowns, sitting up and pulling you into his arms. You can practically hear him thinking as he presses soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. He holds you with care, as if you're made out of glass. And you suppose compared to him, you are, your human body leaving you far more vulnerable than you'd like. He seems to have found the words he was looking for, his voice drawing you out of your own thoughts.

"It matters to me. Not because the day should be special, but because you are."

You shake your head. "No I'm not."

He grabs your chin gently, turning your head so you look him in the eyes. "Yes, you are. You stood up to a High Lord and insisted on coming over the wall with your sister. You went under the mountain with her. If I hadn't stopped you, you would have tried to stab Amarantha and died with her. You absolutely are special. And beyond that." He pauses a moment, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're special to me. And that's truly what I care about." You smile at that.

"You're special to me too."

"Does that mean you'll tell me when your birthday is?"

"Nope!"

He groans, falling back onto the bed, pulling you with him, holding you to his chest.

"Fine. But that means you're getting double the presents next year."

You laugh. "You're assuming you'll have figured it out by then."

He grins, pressing kisses to your neck. "Of course I will. Or perhaps I'll just pick a day and shower you with gifts. And then of course there's the birthday sex..." You laugh again, and the sound is like music to his ears. He would do anything to hear it again and again, as often as he could, for as much time as he may be blessed to spend with you.

You stir, the sun peeking in through the windows waking you. Lucien grins, pressing kisses to your face, waking you further. You swat at him gently, grumbling. “Five more minutes.”

He laughs, but concedes, pulling you into his arms and letting you have your rest. You deserve it, after all you’ve been through this past year.

When you’re finally ready to be awake, you kiss his shoulder before sitting to look at him. He looks back at you with a smile, so much love in his eyes you could melt. He kisses you, threading his fingers into your hair. He pulls back, that same love struck expression still on his face.

“So, today is your birthday.”

“So it is,” you sigh.

“I believe I promised you double presents.”

“So you did. And birthday sex.” He laughs, untangling himself from you and retrieving a stack of presents from their hiding place, depositing them on the foot of the bed.

“I hope all of that means you didn’t also get me a Solstice present.”

“Of course I did.”

“How? I mean… Why? No… When?” You furrow your brow in frustration, giving up on finding the right question as he laughs.

“How? Well, Velaris has a wide variety of lovely shops. When? You’ve been so busy training your healing powers with Madja, it was quite easy to find the time, actually. And as far as why, you deserve it. You deserve every single one of these presents and then some.” He crosses over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing kisses to your cheeks.

“Just wait until our mating ceremony. I’ll shower you with gifts then too.” He kisses your neck. “And then we’ll have our anniversary… I’ll always find a reason.” You smile, leaning into his embrace.

“I suppose I better start opening these if we’re going to make it to the Solstice celebration on time.” He reaches for the first package, keeping you in his arms. You open a wide variety of gifts. New journals and pens, a tea you had seen and mentioned liking, jewelry, anything he had seen and thought of you. You press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back and cupping his cheek. Lucien leans into the touch, smiling.

“Thank you. For making me feel as special as you tell me I am.”

“Of course, Love. Anything for you.”

You smile, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Now, about that birthday sex…” He laughs, lowering you to the pillows.

“Like I said… Anything for you, Love.”

A/N: Ah, finally posting something that's not angst! Requests are open, so feel free to send one in, or just ask a question :)

divider is by @tsunami-of-tears

#acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #fanfiction #imagine

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godsfavdarling · 4 months

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It’s all you

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x male!reader words: 2k summary: You and Spencer just came back from your birthday dinner, and your boyfriend loves to quote poetry to you! warnings: smut, fluff, grinding, no use of y/n (idk what else) a/n: This was a request! I love the idea! This was my first time writing male!reader! I hope it’s kind of good? The poem Spencer recites is “The Hug” by Thom Gunn. I had fun writing this! I hope y'all like it! If anyone cares I promise I will eventually come back to my spencelle fic (maybe once the semester is over at my uni)!!! <3

The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet as you and Spencer lounged on the couch, the soft hum of the city beyond the window a distant murmur. The gentle light of the room cast warm shadows, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

Spencer sat with his legs tucked neatly under him, a relaxed smile on his face as he looked down at you, your legs draped across his lap. It was just after midnight, and you had both just come back from dinner with friends.

"Tonight was really something," you said, your voice a low murmur. "I think it's been a while since we all let loose like that… Since you let loose like that."

Spencer chuckled, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your calf. "It’s your birthday," he began, his voice soft and contemplative. "I’m happy you're happy."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I’m happy. Very happy."

"Good," Spencer said, then leaned his head back, eyes on the ceiling as he spoke softly.

“It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined

Half of the night with our old friend

Who'd showed us in the end

To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.

Already I lay snug,

And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden poetry in his words. "Huh?"

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with a tender sincerity. "It's a poem. Made me think of this moment right now."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, both from Spencer's words and the way his hand absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh. There was something about Spencer that captivated you.

Most people wouldn't expect him to quote romantic poems; they saw only the genius profiler, the encyclopedia of facts. But you knew the truth. Beneath his brilliant mind and analytical exterior, Spencer Reid was a romantic through and through.

He was perfect in his own unique way. His tousled hair, always slightly disheveled, and the way his eyes sparkled with excitement whenever he talked about something he loved, made your heart race.

Spencer had a certain charm, an endearing blend of intellect and innocence. He was often clueless about the effect he had on you, and others, for that matter. His gestures of affection were genuine, uncalculated, stemming from pure love and admiration.

He had never harbored ill intentions; his love was pure and unwavering. He was the type to remember the smallest details about you (whether he wanted to or not he would always remember but still it was sweet).

As you lay there, your legs draped over his lap, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky. Spencer's hand continued its gentle patterns on your thigh, his touch a soothing reminder of his presence. He looked at you, eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"You know," you began, your voice soft, "most people wouldn't consider you a romantic."

Spencer's brows furrowed slightly, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Really? I never thought about it…”

You smiled, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "That's because you don't see yourself the way I do. You have this incredible way of making everything feel... special. Your love, it's like poetry in motion."

A faint blush crept up Spencer's cheeks, and he ducked his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I just... I want you to know how much you mean to me. Sometimes words are all I have."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "And your words mean the world to me, Spencer. You mean the world to me."

Spencer's eyes softened, his hand still tracing gentle patterns on your thigh. "You mean the worlds to me," he whispered.

You both laughed softly, the warmth of the moment making everything feel even more special.

"Do you remember the rest of that poem?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shifted your position, straddling Spencer's lap.

Spencer's smile widened, his hands instinctively moving to your hips. "You know I do," he said, chuckling softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he looked at you, a blend of love and amusement. "Then, tell me. Start over." you urged, leaning in closer until your faces were just inches apart.

Spencer's eyes sparkled with the familiar light of his vast memory, but now there was something more—an awareness of the intimacy of the moment.

"It was your birthday," he began again, his voice low and velvety.

“We had drunk and dined

Half of the night with our old friend

Who’d showed us in the end

To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.

Already I lay snug,

And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, both from his words and the way his hands gently squeezed your hips. There was something incredibly hot about the way Spencer quoted poetry, the way the words flowed effortlessly from his lips. He had never thought about it that way, but it drove you wild.

“I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,

Suddenly, from behind,

In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:

Your instep to my heel,

My shoulder-blades against your chest.”

"That's so hot," you murmured, unable to resist pressing your lips to his. The kiss started soft and tender, but quickly deepened as the heat between you grew. Spencer suddenly broke it and continued.

“It was not sex, but I could feel

The whole strength of your body set,

Or braced, to mine,

And locking me to you

As if we were still twenty-two”

You couldn't help but be drawn to the soft, now raspier timbre of Spencer's voice. It was like music to your ears, a melody that stirred something deep within you. With each whispered word, each gentle breath, you felt yourself falling further under his spell.

As Spencer's hand continued its soothing motion on your thigh, you leaned in closer, your lips trailing feather-light kisses along his neck. You could feel the heat rising between you, a slow burn of desire that intensified with each passing moment.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you continued your ministrations. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you. You moved your hips in time with your kisses, a silent rhythm of passion and longing.

“When our grand passion had not yet

Become familial.

My quick sleep had deleted all

Of intervening time and place.

I only knew

The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.”

Spencer's breath hitched as your lips found that sweet spot just below his ear, and you reveled in the small gasp that escaped his lips. Lost in the moment, you let yourself be consumed by the heady sensation of being so close to him.

You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching the rhythm of your own. He broke the kiss just long enough to look into your eyes, his breath coming in soft pants.

"I never realized poetry could have this effect," he admitted, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You smiled, your hands cupping his face. "It's not just poetry, Spencer. It's you. The way you speak, the way you touch me... It's all you."

Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and he pulled you into another kiss, more passionate than before. His hands explored your body with a newfound confidence, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you.

With trembling hands, you began to unbutton Spencer's shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly with each small button. His breath caught in his throat as you peeled away the fabric, revealing the expanse of his chest beneath.

Spencer's touch was gentle yet firm as he helped you remove his shirt, his fingers grazing your skin with an electric intensity that sent shivers down your spine. With each article of clothing shed, the desire between you burned hotter, a relentless flame threatening to consume you both.

When it came time to remove your pants, you reluctantly pulled away from Spencer's embrace, causing him to emit a soft sigh at the loss of contact. You couldn't help but smile at his reaction, the affectionate gesture only fueling your desire further.

Quickly, you shed your own clothes, feeling a rush of exhilaration as you stood before Spencer completely exposed, completely vulnerable.

But there was no fear in that vulnerability, only a deep sense of trust and intimacy that bound you together. With a shared understanding of each other's desires, you quickly helped Spencer shed his pants, eager to feel his skin against yours once more.

As the last barrier between you fell away, you were left completely exposed, your bodies laid bare before each other. But in that moment, there was no room for self-consciousness or doubt, only the raw, unbridled passion that pulsed between you.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you lowered yourself back onto Spencer's lap, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you closer.

The heat of his skin against yours sent sparks flying. And as your bodies came together in a tangle of limbs and desire, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming need to be as close to each other as humanly possible.

You started to move your hips, the urgent rhythm of your movements causing your now hard cock to graze against Spencer's. He hissed in response, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through both of you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you pressed closer to him.

“Yes, please keep going,” Spencer murmured, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

With a nod, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you as you resumed your grinding. His arms enveloped you in a strong embrace, his touch sending waves of heat radiating through your body.

The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their desire, the air heavy with the intoxicating scent of your passion. The feel of Spencer's velvet skin against yours sent shivers down your spine, the sensation leaving you breathless and wanting more.

You were so close, the heat of your bodies pressing your cocks against your bellies, the friction sending sparks of pleasure. With each movement, you could hear the wet sounds of your bodies sliding against each other, the slickness of precum adding to the intensity of the moment.

Beads of sweat formed on your skin, glistening in the dim light of the room as you both worked towards release.

Undeterred, you continued to grind against him, the need for release driving you forward. Spencer's gasps and moans filled the room, mingling with your own as you moved together in a frantic rhythm. Your hands roamed over each other's bodies, grasping and pulling, desperate for more of each other.

With each passing moment, the air filled with the scent of sex and sweat, the heady aroma only adding to the overwhelming desire. His hair became matted and messy, sticking to his skin as he lost himself in the heat of the moment.

And then, in a moment of pure ecstasy, you both tasted sweet release, your bodies tensing as you came together in a symphony of bliss. Waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies still pressed together in a tender embrace.

As you caught your breath, the room seemed to spin around you, the world reduced to nothing but the two of you lost in the aftermath.

There was nothing else in the world but the two of you, locked in a dance of desire and devotion. And as you pressed your lips to his, the world fell away, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of him.

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flaneur001 · 8 months

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Headcanon…let’s go~

YANDERE male celebrity x GN Manager Reader

[TW- mentions of stalking]

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Acts like a brat around everyone but you. His makeup crew and stylists have a hard time getting him to behave. But when you are around he switches the act and is pretty docile.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Needs you with him all the time, on set when he is shooting, when he is touring, when he is modeling. He doesn’t care for your schedule or work hours, he wants you like an emotional support pet human. Going as far as refusing to shoot if you don’t accompany him.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Calls you in the middle of the night crying because he thinks he is being stalked. Himself puts threatening letters around his house and asks you to stay over because he is afraid the stalker might break in.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Clings closer to you when swarms of his fans approach him, saying that he is scared. He just needs an excuse to thread his fingers with yours.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Lavishes you with expensive clothes and accessories that is sent to him by luxury brands, he loves loves loves dressing you up. He sometimes secretly sends you the unwashed items that he wore during shoots. The idea of you wearing something of his thrills him beyond words.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Gifted you a penthouse in his apartment building on your birthday, because he wants you to assist him whenever he wants. He is a top artist, now you wouldn’t want to make such an important person wait do you? .You don’t need to know about the multiple well hidden cameras around the expanse of your penthouse. Afterall how would he take care of your safety? Or watch you sleep

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Keeps tabs on your dating life, and crashes EVERY SINGLE DATE YOU’RE on. So you had to go to others for attention? Wasn’t his love enough for you? Fine if you craved the attention so much, you wouldn’t mind handling multiple press releases the next day. He smiles with a mean satisfaction when his fans hover and scream around you and your date. This will teach you a lesson to never leave his side.

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Is very popular and always surrounded by admirers. But his eyes are always trained on you gauging your reactions whenever he is asked out. Are you jealous? Do you feel the same way as him? Is he on your mind like you are on his? Because you occupy his every single thought. The thought of you leaving his side even for a moment, makes his insides clench Maybe he should just tie you up

YANDERE CELEBRITY! Always wears light clothes, so he has an excuse to ask for your coat/sweater. You are annoyed because he never returns them. And if you ask him to return it, he simply buys you new clothes. Afterall he needs your clothes to hang beside his in his gigantic walk-in closet, he loves the idea that someday you will share every aspect of his life. And until he gets to hug you to sleep, he is content with cuddling with your clothes for the time being. Your scent placates him.

BONUS- YANDERE CELEBRITY! When he was playing a cop for a movie, he “accidentally” handcuffed himself with you for an entire day. Obviously he hid every key beforehand he is not a novice. So what if the shoot had to cancel? He had a ball staring at your pretty face all day. Especially when you fed him (he had purposely handcuffed his dominant hand)

#ashewrites📝#flâneur✨#my words💜#yandere male #headcanon #yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere male x reader

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winterchimez · 23 days

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Teach Me How To Love (pt.2) | Kim Sunwoo

SUMMARY: right after you had elicited help from your best friend, who also turns out to the the fuckboy on campus, suddenly you weren't too sure if all the efforts you had put in to please the heartthrob were actually worth it anymore. that was when you realised there was much more to Sunwoo than you thought he was.

PAIRING: fuckboy!Sunwoo x g.n!reader (feat. crush!Hyunjae)

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive, slight horror

WARNINGS: nc-17, kissing, making out, implied sex (no smut though yall dw), reader wears a dress, petnames (sweetheart, princess, honey), Hyunjae isn't what reader thought he was oops (slightly possessive), reader is in denial of their own feelings, crying, cursing, flustered Sunwoo (and he's the gem of comedy in the fic), Sunwoo is the biggest flirt ever 😃

WORD COUNT: 4,438

A/N: happiest birthday to my one and only soulmate @from-izzy 🤞 thank you for literally being through all the chaos and madness in my daily life, from being on call with one another for an average of 6-7 hours each time we do it, from validating my thoughts 99% of the time (bcs sometimes you don't), and literally being the missing piece to my other half. fate brought us tgt and you'll forever be stuck with me for life so be prepared for that 😚💜 and big shoutout to @mosviqu @sanaxo-o for beta reading this fic for me!! (also hi... @kimsohn)

this is pt2 to the original fic here so please do read it first as this will contain major spoilers!! (yes the long awaited sequel is finally here im sorry for making yall wait for more than a year 🧍‍♀️)

Sunwoo’s POV

It was already noon, and the sun began shining directly onto the male’s face, causing him to get all frustrated as he sat up from his bed.

Sunwoo was still in denial about what happened last night. You came over to elicit his help on how to flirt and make out and basically asked for advice on how to please your date for today—the campus heartthrob Lee Hyunjae.

He knew from the back of his mind that it was definitely a bad idea from the start. He shouldn’t have agreed to do exactly what you both did last night—the way both of your bodies felt so warm and close to one another, the way your hands wrapped around him as he carried you to his bed, and the way your lips felt against his.

He couldn’t stop thinking about them—like a broken record player replaying the entire scenario. After he had convinced you that you were good enough to please Hyunjae and left, he slumped onto the couch, refusing to believe what he had just done.

All this time, he knew that you both were just friends—childhood best friends, to be exact. Neither of you had shown much more affection beyond that, and it was all cool between you two.

That was until last night.

His heartbeat was going 80 miles per hour, and he was literally going insane. To get back to his senses, he decided to call one of the girls he often slept with and invited her over so that he could forget about what had just happened and take things off his mind for a while.

He was confident that all would be fine—he just returned to his usual routine of making out with different girls, and there’s that. Whatever happened between you two was just a dream, an awkward moment between you two, and it would not affect the relationship you both have built over the years.

It turns out he was wrong, and during the entire night of making out with the girl, the only image that popped up in his mind was you. He imagined as if he was kissing you again, making you feel good as he explored your body, touching you in areas that made you feel so good—earning a series of soft moans coming out from your mouth.

But he knew it was all just a hallucination, as he now turned to his side to find the girl he invited over last night sleeping very soundly as she lay towards her side, facing away from him.

Sunwoo moved his head backwards so that it slightly bumped against the headboard of his bed. He lifted his phone to check the time and see if he had gotten any notifications for the day.

More specifically, if there were any notifications from you, that is.

When he saw that there was none, and it was already going to be 12:30 in the afternoon, he quickly went through his list of contacts and dialled someone familiar with your schedules for the day as he ran his fingers through his hair frustratingly.

“Yuna, give me the details of Y/N’s schedule for the day from A to Z.” He commanded.

Y/N’s POV

You were already drinking your third bottle of water as you waited for your date to arrive.

To be fair, you agreed to meet at the square at 12:30 p.m., but your anxiety caused you to arrive 30 minutes earlier than planned.

You elicited help from Yuna to dress you up and make you all pretty for today's date. You decided to put on the yellow flare dress that your cousin got you for the summer holidays while Yuna helped curl your hair and do your makeup for you. It has been a while since you put on a dress for yourself, but you thought it was legitimately the best outfit you own that could keep up with the campus heartthrob himself.

You had a hard time falling asleep the night before. You kept thinking about how you would please Hyunjae—wear clothes that he would like, keep up with his favourite films and food, and, of course, how you would kiss him if that ever happened.

Wait. Kiss?

Right. You elicited your best friend’s help the night before at his apartment.

You weren’t too sure what had gotten in your mind last night, but you thought that having a so-called 101 lessons on how to please a guy by passionately making out with Sunwoo would do the trick.

Your cheeks instantly heat up at the thought of it—you loved the way he touched you and how he was actually so gentle with it, contrary to his fuckboy behaviour that you have known from the surface.

His words were as sweet as nectar—luring you in as if he knew exactly what to say to please you. It took you a little while to adjust to that since you mostly just bicker with the male. However, you weren’t too upset with that sudden change of attitude, and you liked this side of him.

But that wasn’t the part that intrigued you the most—it was that kiss. His goddamn plump lips just seemingly knew how to move in sync with yours, savouring all of the flavoured lip balm that you had just applied earlier that day since you struggled with dry, cracked lips.

All of a sudden, you realised that you didn’t need it anymore, for your lips were moist by the time you got home—you didn’t even need to apply another layer before going to sleep.

You were brought back to reality when your phone started going off at your nightstand, and you picked it up to read the caller’s ID out loud.

That’s when you panicked and quickly shook your head. Your date has arrived, and he was waiting in the lobby to pick you up.

That’s right. I’m going on a date with Hyunjae. Sunwoo has nothing to do with this.

As you quickly scrambled through your belongings to check if you had gotten everything, you dashed out of the door and slammed it shut before running down to meet your date, who was already looking as flawless as ever as he sat on the couch in the lobby.

The moment both of your eyes met, you could’ve sworn that you were about to combust internally as he put on the sweetest smile that could instantly make up someone’s day.

“Morning, princess. You look absolutely stunning,” he commented as he scanned you up and down, admiring the look you had given him for the day. “I can’t believe that this is all for me.”

God, the rumours that his words could potentially send you off to space within seconds were true. “N-No! I just did the bare minimum…I was worried you weren’t going to like it…” you mumbled.

He chuckled as he leaned forward to tuck some of your hair behind your ears. “Are you crazy? You’re the most beautiful ethereal sweetheart I’ve ever set my eyes upon.”

Oh my god. Stop this Hyunjae, stop it right now.

Clearing your throat, desperately wanting to move on from this conversation, you pointed towards the exit and gestured that it was time for you both to move on with your date.

“L-Let’s go! The food bazaar isn’t going to wait for us forever!”

“You’re right,” he smiled before taking your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Oh my god! You’re a godsend when it comes to food!” You mumbled as you chewed on your favourite strawberry tanghulu in one hand and switched your taste buds to take a bite of the cheesiest corndog Hyunjae had bought for you from the bazaar.

“I’m not called the food guru for no reason, honey. I know my food very well,” he winks as he takes in a bite of this humungous Taiwanese-styled fried chicken that he just got off fresh from one of the stalls nearby.

Hyunjae couldn’t help admiring how you looked as he kept glancing towards your direction—your glistening pink cheeks partly from the blush but also how happy you were from this little date.

If he had to be honest, he himself was nervous trying to send that text of asking you out the day before. Sure, he was aware of how you had had your eyes on him for a while, but so did the rest of the class.

However, he knew that there was something different about you, and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was—but he knew that he just had to ask you out, and it didn’t matter if it would turn out to be great or a disaster.

Something about you has caught his eye since you first walked into class. You were different from the other girls who seemed to like him because of his good looks. You had always stood firm, telling everyone how you knew that Hyunjae was the sweetest human being you have ever laid your eyes upon—both from the outside and on the inside.

He appreciated and loved walking through the corridors on campus where he would find you talking to your friends about him—it was the smile you had on your face whenever he was mentioned.

So he did his fair share of research on you, too (not with malicious intent but to get to know you better), and found out that you had a really close childhood friend, Kim Sunwoo.

Sure enough, he would often see you hanging out with him loads back in junior year—you both were pretty much inseparable at all times, sticking close to one another throughout the entire day.

But the entire campus knew how he eventually ventured out to become the fuckboy on campus, and he would often hang out with different girls and sleep with them, causing you to spend less time with him.

If Hyunjae had to be completely honest, he wasn’t too happy about that. But who was he to judge about your relationships with one another?

That is only he knew what happened between you two the night before in Sunwoo’s apartment.

The thought of Sunwoo potentially hurting you in one way or another has been bugging him for an entire year now, and he just needed to know the answers. So he tried his best to come up with different topics to talk to you about—from the pets you both owned to your favourite TV shows until he felt it was safe and comfortable to talk about your childhood friend.

“Say, Y/N. I hope you don’t mind, and I don’t mean to pry…but what is your relationship with Kim Sunwoo?”

You were taken aback by the sudden question about Sunwoo, and your already pink cheeks from the makeup and heat were getting much brighter and more apparent, causing you to clear your throat quickly before answering your date.

“H-He’s just a childhood friend; we go all the way back. Why do you ask?”

“I can’t help but think he is somewhat hurting you somehow. I really hope he isn’t, though,” his voice deepened, making it evident that he wasn’t joking around.

“Sunwoo? Hurting me? What makes you say that?” You asked while bitting off the last strawberry from the kebab stick you held.

“Y/N, how do I put this…” he was now fidgeting his fingers on his free hand while looking at the ground. “I don’t know. You both don’t seem as close as you were back then. If I were in your shoes, I would be devastated in this situation.”

That immediately stopped you in your tracks. You just stared at your date briefly, your feet glued to the ground.

You remembered what the girls talked about the campus heartthrob himself: he reads people like an open book.

Nothing could’ve explained the sweat dripping from your head; your fingers clutching the kebab sticks for dear life as if you were being interrogated for doing something wrong.

Why did you feel that way? You couldn’t even answer that yourself.

“H-He’s- I mean- We’re fine! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You laughed, trying your best to hide the stammer and fear in your voice, but you knew that your date wasn’t buying it in one serious bit.

Knowing that the situation wasn’t getting any better, Hyunjae decided to take you away from the crowd by gripping your hand, and eventually, you both ended up on a bench at a nearby park, just sitting down to talk about everything.

“Y/N. I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” he bluntly replied.

“T-Tell you what?”

“About Sunwoo.”

Frankly, you have no idea why on earth Hyunjae was obsessed about knowing what exactly happened between you two. You were currently on a date with the campus heartthrob, and Sunwoo is just a childhood friend, so you both somehow drifted apart for some time. You didn’t see what the connection here was all about.

“Hyunjae…we’re just friends. That’s all.”

“Y/N.” His grip on your hands tightened. “As much as I want to be happy that I’m out with you on a date right now, I can’t seem to help but notice how you aren’t exactly here with me, if that makes sense. Something is bothering you, and I am upset to know that.”

“W-Well- Why are you upset, Hyunjae?”

“Because you’re hiding something from me.”

At this point, you were starting to feel a little creeped out and uncomfortable, and you had no idea why he was growing much more possessive each minute. You noticed how he was trying to get you to talk about your childhood friend, but you didn’t want to at this point.

Especially with what happened between you two last night.

With all the pressure and tension in the air, you couldn’t help but hold back the tears in your eyes as they poured down your cheeks. You couldn’t care less if you looked like an absolute mess in front of your date right now, and you knew that you could no longer ignore the excruciating pain you have been holding back since last night.

“I-I don’t know, Hyunjae. I don’t know what to feel,” you sobbed, lowering your head down to the point that your tears were now dripping onto your dress.

Hyunjae was slightly taken aback by the scene that unfolded in front of him, and he quickly pulled you in for an embrace, rubbing your back to help soothe you as best as he could before you started speaking up again.

“I’m so confused with everything…I made many preparations for you because I genuinely like you so much, Hyunjae…I have had the biggest crush on you for the longest time…but everything that happened last night…I can’t be so sure anymore…” you sobbed.

“What happened last night, Y/N? Talk to me about it,” Hyunjae reassured you with his calming voice, not knowing if it would make the situation better or worse, but he had to know.

Even if the truth would eventually crush him.

“I-I elicited help from Sunwoo…because I wanted to please you so bad as your date…but everything that unfolded last night…I-I don’t know where I stand now…”

That was enough for Hyunjae to combine the dots to paint the whole picture in his head. He knew that from the start, as he saw both of you together, there was something about your relationship that felt so different from any other pairings seen on campus.

He never once believed in fate, nor about the red thread that connects one person to another to form the seemingly perfect relationship ever. But he knew deep down within his gut that you had a thing for Sunwoo, even if you hadn’t noticed it.

It was enough to prove that even he couldn’t win over Sunwoo from you, and that little crush he had with you was slowly dying down—his heart slowly tearing apart. However, he was too nice to take you away from the one to which your heart truly belonged.

As your cries grew heavier and louder, Hyunjae could only do his best to hug you tighter, wishing he could savour this moment for as long as possible before he eventually had to let go.

He knew he would miss hearing you talking about him whenever he came close on campus, and he surely would miss admiring you from afar whenever you weren’t paying attention to him.

Knowing that you wouldn’t hear him as you were caught up in your emotions, he slowly took out your phone to send a text to a number before he turned it off and placed it back into your bag before he mumbled a few words to himself.

“Thank you for making me happy over the past year, Y/N. You truly are one of a kind.”

You had no idea how long you had been out as you slowly opened your eyes and adjusted your vision. The sun had set, and the skies were slowly turning pitch black, indicating that the day had passed by quickly.

Immediately, you felt that you were lying on something soft underneath your head, and you slowly lifted your head before you eventually sat up straight and backed away slightly from the man himself.

“You look like you have seen a ghost, Y/N.”

He couldn’t be. Why was he here? How did he know your location?

It can’t be true, and you won’t believe your eyes. So, you slowly leaned forward to pinch his cheeks, earning a yelp to show that it was a reality, not a dream.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for!” He screamed as he covered his cheek with the arm that he was spread on the back of the bench.

“W-Why are you here, Sunwoo?” You questioned, clearly still confused with the whole situation that you were in.

“What do you mean why? You texted me to come pick you up,” he answered.

Huh? You texted him? That can’t be true.

Immediately, you took your phone from your bag to click into your messages with him. Sure enough, you had sent a text to the male himself, and it was the way he had only seen the message, and it was enough to make his way towards you quickly.

Before you could even ask where exactly he knew where to find you, you clearly remembered how you both had shared your locations, and you instantly covered your face with both hands before you slumped forward.

“Oh my god…” you heaved.

There was this short silence between you two before Sunwoo eventually cleared his throat to tell you he was still here with you in case you had completely forgotten about his existence.

“That dress looks nice on you, I’ll admit that.”

“W-Well! It’s not for you, so don’t be so full of yourself- Wait, where’s Hyunjae?” You asked as you finally remembered why you had been sleeping on a bench.

As you stood up to turn your head around to scan the area, Sunwoo couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh before gripping one of your hands, causing you to turn back towards your friend.

“Listen. We need to talk.”

Oh, hell no. This is the conversation that you have been trying your best to avoid for the past 24 hours.

“W-What is there to talk about?”

“Everything.” He gently pulled your hand down so that you were sitting right beside him on the bench again, his grip tightening around you as if he didn’t want to let you go anytime soon.

“Look, I- God, this is much harder than I imagined in my head,” Sunwoo groaned as he ran his free hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly to show his frustration. “After what happened last night…that isn’t something that friends would do, and I think you know that yourself.”

Please stop talking about last night. “O-Okay…and where are we going with this?” You asked.

“Y/N. Normal friends don’t kiss and make out the way we did last night, you know that, don’t you?”

Please, just stop. “O-Okay…and?”

“So…where do we stand now? Y/N?”

God. “I- Umm- Well- What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know…literally just anything. I need to know, Y/N. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep for the entire night because of that.”

You really wished that you could answer that question right here and then, but you weren’t too sure about your feelings. In the beginning, you were certain that Sunwoo wasn’t interested in having an actual relationship since he was out there making out with different girls weekly or even once every couple of days.

That was enough to show that he just wanted to have some fun and be as single as he could—not committed to an actual relationship—so that he could explore his needs.

Isn’t it?

“But you- umm- you’re out here sleeping with other girls-”

“I don’t just sleep around with people, Y/N. It’s because I want to learn how to please you.”

Wait, what?

You weren’t too sure if you had heard those words correctly, and you kept blinking your eyes at the male himself, making him shut his eyes as he leaned back onto the bench.

“Fuck, this is so frustrating, uh-” Sunwoo placed one of his hands to cover his eyes for a little while to regain his composure. “Y/N, wasn’t it obvious enough that the reason I have been avoiding you is because I started liking you? More than just friends at one point, I wasn’t sure if you were cool with it, and I definitely didn’t want to ruin our friendship since we were kids. Why did you think I tried my best to stop you from doing whatever we did in my apartment last night?”

No way. There was absolutely no way.

“S-Since when did you feel this way, Sunwoo?” You needed to know. You needed to see if it aligns with the timeline of when you first knew something was different about the relationship between you two.

“Since high school, senior year to be exact.”

It can’t be.

“Y-You fell first?”

“Huh?”

At this point, you both were just staring at one another in confusion. When Sunwoo finally understood what you meant, your cheeks immediately heated up once again, causing you to turn your back on him.

He fell first. There was absolutely no way he could’ve done that-

Before you had enough time to think about everything, Sunwoo instantly grabbed your shoulder and turned you back to him; his face was now mere inches away, and you could feel his breath upon you.

“Am I thinking this right? Are we on the same page, Y/N?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“Please…just tell me…it’s hurting me so bad from the inside; I need to know, even if it’s a simple nod from you,” he begged.

You were still in denial—or rather, you didn’t want to accept that Sunwoo had feelings for you for a couple of years. It couldn’t be; you were just his childhood friend and nothing else. You weren’t as attractive as the other girls he’s been with; you didn’t smile the way the girls he would often see hanging out in the school cafeteria; you weren’t as outgoing as the girls that he chose every week-

Just as you tried your best to devise a plausible excuse, Sunwoo decided to take matters into his own hands as he pulled your shoulders forward to press his lips against yours.

The way he knew he was best at.

God, it was the same sensation that you felt the night before. Those soft, plump lips made you crave for more, and how his hands felt so warm and gentle against your skin.

At that point, you knew that you didn’t have to say anything as you slowly relaxed your shoulders and eased into the kiss, parting your lips slightly for him to gain more entrance into the kiss. You returned it like he did, passionately making out in the park as if nobody was there to judge.

It had been a minute or two when you both finally broke apart to steady your breathing, Sunwoo’s fingers still resting on your cheeks and caressing them as he looked into your eyes lovingly.

“Yeah, this was way better than getting an answer from your mouth,” he smirked, earning a slap from you on his shoulders.

“You nasty, dirty-minded raccoon!”

“Can you blame me, though? I’m not known as the fuckboy on campus for nothing. Well actually, not anymore, I suppose.” For the first time, he gave you a genuine smile that you hadn't received in a while (not since you both drifted apart a year ago) as he pulled you in to place a little peck on your forehead.

“W-What do you mean, Sunwoo?”

“What I’m saying is I have already gotten my one and only right here, and I don’t have to go around sleeping with other girls anymore,” he winks.

“Gross. I never even agreed to all of this.”

“Well, you don’t have to.” He pulls in for another kiss. “I’m going to make sure that you’re not going to run away from me anymore, and we’ll figure out this whole situationship, or relationship, if that’s what you want to call it, together.”

You sighed. “B-But what if it doesn’t work out? You know it’s not easy going from childhood friends to the…you know…“L” word.”

You had no idea why you felt so shy with that last bit, and Sunwoo could immediately tell by the way you were squirming around restlessly.

“What “L” word, honey? Maybe you should teach me about it,” he grinned.

“Go look it up yourself, dumbhead.”

“Shame. And I was getting used to this new way of talking with you.”

“Disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

With one swift movement, he scooped you up before placing you on his lap, causing you to yelp a bit before he placed both of your arms on both sides of his shoulders. He rested his hands on your hips to keep you in place, smiling at you as if he had just seen the most beautiful and precious human being he had ever laid his eyes upon throughout the past several years.

This was the moment that he had desperately been waiting for.

“I love you so much, Y/N. More than you could ever imagine.”

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