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mothandpidgeon · 8 months

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Homecoming (Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales, no outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: Frankie asks his neighbor to keep an eye on things while he's in South America.

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man. Tell me I ain’t right.”

Words: 5.6k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: Frankie has to watch, he likes it, cuckolding, dom Joel, oral sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, hand job, mentions of Frankie's addiction, toxic relationship, Frankie kind of sucks (canon, I said what I said), Joel steal your girl Miller (I'm sure I forgot some, let me know!)

a/n: I'll be honest, I don't see how Frankie was coming home to anything other than divorce papers after leaving his lady with a new baby (suggesting other babies!?) and giving all of his money away. Let's torment him!

As always thanks to @ezrasbirdie for the beta. Consider this my toxic Catalyst verse.

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Frankie drums his fingers on his thigh. Flight leaves in an hour and he’s thinking about the front door.

He should be thinking about this gig. It’s risky as hell. If things go sideways, they’ll be completely fucked in the jungle with a narco on their ass. The money’s good but there are a hundred ways it could get hairy.

But you had a bad habit of leaving the front door unlocked. You’d done it just the day before when you picked the baby up from daycare.

“Christ, Frankie. My hands were full, ok?” you said when he mentioned it.

“Just don’t forget while I’m gone. You’ll be alone with the kids and I don’t want the house to be wide open,” he said.

“If you’re so worried about us, don’t go,” you said.

You’d given him a raft of shit about it. Leaving you with a baby and a three year old and no help.

“You promised me you were done doing stupid shit,” you said.

He’s promised you a lot of things.

You’re still so pissed that when he kissed Franny and the baby goodbye, you barely acknowledged he was leaving.

Which means if something does happen, you’ll never forgive him. He’s biting on the side of his thumb when he reaches for his phone.

…I’m going out of town for a bit but I’d feel a lot better if you’d just keep an eye on things…

He shoots the text off to his neighbor. Frankie doesn’t know him all that well—they’ve shared some beers at backyard barbecues— but he’s a good guy. His daughter babysits Franny all the time. Frankie feels a little better. At least you’ll be safe while he’s not there.

—

When Joel sees you a few days after he gets the text from Frankie, he knows you’re going through it.

You’re juggling a diaper bag, keys, and a water bottle while trying to lug the car seat up the front walk. The humidity isn’t doing anything kind to your hair and he’s pretty sure he saw you wearing the same yoga pants and oversized t-shirt the day before. Your daughter is whining about something he can’t quite make out from his driveway. She hovers around you doing dramatic, exasperated stomps.

He remembers Sarah at that age. It was hard enough to be a single parent to one, he can’t imagine how you’re doing it with two even if it’s just temporary.

Joel has to admit, he’d be looking over at you even if Frankie hadn’t asked. He likes you. You always ask about Sarah and even remember her birthday. When she stays late babysitting, you stand at the door and watch to make sure she gets in safe even though she’s just crossing the yard. And he’ll admit it, you’re attractive. He knows you’re spoken for but he can’t help the way his eyes linger when you’re bent over the back seat vacuuming up cheerios.

“Maybe when daddy gets back,” Joel hears you say. You’re out of breath but trying to keep a light air in your voice.

“But when is he coming home?” she complains.

The little girl tugs on your arm and the carefully balanced tower in your hand topples to the ground, the bottle making an especially loud clang that sets the baby off crying.

“Franny!” you snap.

“I didn’t mean to,” Franny says.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Joel watches your chest rise and fall, one deep breath to collect yourself. He imagines that you’re counting to ten in your head as he’s done a thousand times.

“I know, mija,” you say.

You run a hand over your messy hair and begin collecting your keys from the grass. Joel’s sure you’re on the edge of tears.

“You need a hand?” he calls over.

You’re startled when you look over at him. Maybe you’d been so focused on getting everybody into the house, you hadn’t even noticed he was in his yard. Your brows knit together and it looks like you’ve been clenching your jaw for hours. Finally, your shoulders lower slightly and Joel feels like he’s lifted the weight right off of you just by asking.

“Yeah, actually,” you say.

—

Motherhood is torture. Even on the good days. You’re covered in spit up and boogers and sticky lollipop sugar. Your eyes are ringed from sleep deprivation. Most meals are the sandwich crusts Franny refuses to eat.

But what really gets to you is the noise. Franny is a chatterbox, the baby is always at an 11, and the house is full of plastic toys that each play a series of increasingly infuriating songs. Even the white noise machine feels like taking a cheese grater to your ears.

It’s not so bad when you can share the load. But Frankie’s gone. He’s been gone more and more often. A stint in rehab. Pounding the pavement for a new job. Now off with Pope and the guys being weekend warriors. You’ve lost count of the number of second chances you’ve given him.

You’re just about to lose your shit when Joel calls over to you. He’s a godsend. He carries the carseat into the house for you and has Sarah come over to help keep Franny entertained. He insists you take a shower– something you haven’t had time to do in three days– and when you come back into the kitchen, you nearly burst into tears when you see he’s done the dishes.

The kids are in bed now and Sarah’s gone back next door to do homework. Joel sets grilled cheese sandwiches on the table for the two of you and you give him one of Frankie’s beers.

“A little crispy,” Joel says as way of apology for the bread that’s absolutely blackened. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”

“That’s ok. It’s just nice to have someone else do it for a change,” you say. “Thanks again. And Sarah too. She’s a good kid.”

“She is.” Joel smiles to himself.

“You raised her right,” you say and his blush is so handsome.

He’s older than Frankie but just as good looking. Strong arms, narrow waist. The light over the kitchen table picks up all the gray hairs around his temples. He’s definitely not hard to look at after a long day.

Eventually it comes up.

“So where’s your man off to?” Joel asks innocently enough.

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble. You don’t want to think about him, not now in this nice moment. You weren’t pretending to play house with Joel but you didn’t mind forgetting about Frankie for an hour or two. “Maybe he‘ll do us a favor and stay there.”

You don’t mean it. Years of putting up with his crap has made you bitter, downright mean.

“He asked me to check in on you while he was gone,” Joel says.

“He did?” you ask and he nods. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every time I decide I’m done with him, he does something sweet and I lose my nerve.”

Joel’s quiet. Probably doesn’t know how to respond to such a personal bombshell when he was just making small talk.

“Sorry. You don’t want to hear my business.”

“Did I say that?” Joel asks.

You sigh. His eyes are so kind and you’re so goddamn tired.

“He told me three days before that he was going. Doing some Rambo shit with his boys. He said it was going to pay well and I can’t argue with him there because we need the money because he lost his job. Drugs. I couldn’t even call my sister and ask for her help this week because I was so embarrassed. You know how many times she’s told me to dump his ass? And I should, you know. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”

By now, you can feel tears coming. You’re so angry with Frankie and you’re mad at yourself. You can’t imagine what Joel must think— that you’re an idiot, that you’re weak.

But he cups your chin in his big hand. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows and, the way he’s looking at you, you feel like someone’s seeing you for the first time in years. “That’s not true. You don’t deserve any of that.”

The air feels thick between you and you feel so fucking grateful for the words he’s just said.

You kiss him, practically falling into his lips. He’s been so damn good to you and it’s been so long since you’ve felt taken care of. And he kisses you back. He pulls you into him. His thumb strokes your cheek and he opens his mouth to you. You can taste the beer on his tongue and it’s familiar. You’ve tasted it a thousand times on Frankie.

You realize what you’re doing. You’re sick of Frankie’s shit but he’s still your partner, the father of your children. Maybe this is really the last straw and you’ll finally end it with him but you haven’t yet. You’ve always considered yourself the better person, the bigger one, who put the kids first and doesn’t keep secrets. You don’t get to act all morally superior if you’re cheating on Frankie.

You break away and slap a hand over your mouth.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry,” you say.

“No. That’s alright.” Joel’s blinking like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. “My fault. I came on too strong there. You’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“I want to but I shouldn’t,” you tell him. You’ve never felt so mixed up in your life. “I guess I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Joel stands. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here. You can go to bed early.”

You’re mortified. He’s practically running away because you’re acting like a maniac. This man was kind to you for a minute and you blew it.

“Sorry again. Thank you,” you add as an afterthought.

He lingers in the doorway.

“Why don’t I bring Sarah back tomorrow if you’re still needing help? Promise I can keep my hands to myself,” he says with a little chuckle. “Unless…maybe you just want Sarah?” He’s jiggling his hand nervously.

You feel the faintest relief. You want him to come back. Not just for kissing purposes. He made you feel less alone.

“That’s be great. Both of you,” you say.

He gives you a sweet smile before leaving you to bury your face in your hands.

—

Frankie knows what to expect when he gets back. When he finally got cell service, you’d sent it his call straight to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you. He’d all but disappeared. And now he was returning home with nothing to show for it.

It’s not like this is the first time. He’s slept on Will and Benny’s couch more than once, come home to an empty house with a note on the kitchen table that you took Franny to your friend’s place. Don’t call until you get your shit together.

He’s got a whole speech in his head that he’s been thinking about for days. He wishes that he could tell you how close he’d come to death and how much he wants to turn things around but even he knows how hollow those words sound. This time he’s going to make it up to you.

It’s dark when he gets in. The house is quiet. He’s nervous again, jingling his keys in his hand. You’re sitting at the kitchen table which means he’s in deep shit. He’s ready to launch into his monologue but Frankie’s thrown off when he sees his neighbor sitting beside you.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, eyes darting between you and your guest. His mind immediately goes to the darkest places, worse things than the failure of your relationship.

“No, Frankie,” you say.

“Did something happen to the baby?” Adrenaline floods him for what must be the millionth time since he last stood in this room.

You sigh. “The kids are fine. They’re next door. Sarah’s watching them.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long pause where Frankie tries to recollect everything he was going to tell you, all of the promises he’d really keep this time. All he can think about is the fact that Joel’s sitting there looking at him like he’s a piece of shit. Frankie pushes up the brim of his hat to rub his forehead.

“Do I have to say it?” you ask. You look as exhausted as he feels. “I can’t do this any more.”

“I know,” Frankie says.

The guilt has made his throat go dry. He’s fucked up so many things. He remembers the last time you were sitting there, the little bag of white powder you’d found in his jacket resting on the table.

“You said you were extending the trip. I haven’t heard from you in a week,” you go on.

“Can we talk about this alone, baby?” he asks.

“No I don’t think so,” you tell him.

It’s hard enough to face the fact that he’s five minutes from losing you with without someone gawking. He shifts awkwardly.

“Can you give us a minute, man?” Frankie tries.

“Stay,” you tell Joel.

You put your hand on his upper arm and Frankie feels sick. He can tell just by that touch that Joel’s not just your shoulder to cry on. It boils in his gut.

“You’re going to do this in front of a stranger?” Frankie asks. It comes out louder than he meant. He’s got no business being angry. Not when he drove you away. But it’s suddenly not so easy to own up to his own failures.

“Frankie,” you say, level and quiet.

Joel crosses his arms and it feels like a warning. If Frankie doesn’t get his emotions in check, he will. Frankie’s almost tempted to test him. It would feel good to get hit.

“What’s this? Did you fuck him?” he asks.

Frankie wants to hear you say yes, to feel the knife slide in and twist.

“I didn’t,” you snap back. “But I wish I had.” You look like you want to stuff them back into your mouth but you raise your chin defiantly.

The words rattle around in Frankie’s ears. It hurts just the way he thought it would, imagining you spread out over this man’s lap.

There’s another feeling, too. He can’t name it. There’s a place where jealousy turns into violence but somehow it’s taken a left turn to self loathing. You deserve to have someone to make you feel good and Frankie, well, he’s hitting rock bottom again.

Frankie’s glaring at him but his breath shallows. The gravel in Joel’s voice goes straight to his groin. It’s twisted and he ought to punch Joel right in the mouth. Instead he’s frozen in place wondering why the blood is rushing to his cock.

Joel stands lazily and takes two steps to cross the distance between them. His eyes travel up Frankie’s body, slow, dangerous, until he meets his gaze. He’s mere inches away, close enough that Frankie can smell the clean scent of his soap.

“Tell me I ain’t right,” Joel says.

—

You’re on your feet in a flash to pull Joel away before they can come to blows but then you spy the growing bulge in Frankie’s pants. Your eyes go wide. Suddenly you're flooded with arousal though you can’t explain why. It should piss you off but you can’t help but imagine the look on his face if he’d walked in on you riding Joel in his own bed. You want to see it.

Before a cooler head prevails, you’re pulling Joel by the hand down the hall to your bedroom.

“What the hell are you doing?” Frankie asks, following behind.

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” Joel says.

Frankie stands there gaping but he doesn’t do anything to stop you.

“You can stay there and watch or you can leave,” you tell him. That last word has a heavy finality to it. This isn’t like the other times when you took him back. He’s not coming home again.

Frankie says nothing, just shuts his mouth.

“You want to do this, sweetheart?” Joel asks. His tone is gentle.

You’re breathless. You’ve been fantasizing about fucking Joel since he swooped in and saved you. Behind Frankie’s back, maybe, not right in front of his face. But you want him to see, to know exactly what he lost each time he fucked up. You want to punish him.

“Yes,” you say and your eyes fall on Frankie.

His expression is a strange mixture of hunger and melancholy. Those sweet brown eyes are always what make you take him back no matter how much he’s hurt you.

“Pretend he’s not here,” Joel says, guiding your face back to him with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” you say. It feels so good to be cruel.

“Good girl.”

His praise makes your mouth twitch into a smile.

“Tell him to take his clothes off,” you say.

Joel’s brows tick up.

“You heard her. Show her how hard you got,” he says.

“You fucking kidding?” Frankie asks but his words are toothless.

“You can go right now,” you say.

Frankie’s jaw shifts, grinding his molars. As he hesitates, Joel grabs the brim of his hat and pulls it off of Frankie’s curls. He examines the old thing with disinterest, then tosses it to the floor.

“Strip,” he demands.

The command makes you clench.

Joel turns his attention back to you once Frankie’s reluctantly begun to work at the buttons of his shirt. He brushes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, the pad of his thumb on your lips.

“Been thinking about kissing you since the other day,” he tells you.

His lips brush against yours, his nose nuzzling your cheek. The prickle of his mustache makes you gasp.

“Went home and thought about doing more than kissing you,” he says.

Your cheeks heat. He gives you a good, proper kiss now, pulling you in with a hand on your waist. It’s deep and slow, practically romantic though you’re in a situation that feels quite the opposite. Either way, you’re left swooning a little, tangling your fingers into his full hair so your knees don't buckle.

Frankie’s completely bare and Joel glances in his direction. His eyebrows lift momentarily when he catches sight of Frankie’s erection then he scoffs quietly and goes back to kissing you. He gets his hands under your shirt and slides it over your head.

You can feel Frankie’s eyes dancing over the two of you. You crack yours open to look at him while you let Joel’s tongue into your mouth. It’s like he’s watching a car crash and he can’t look away— horrified, exhilarated, disgusted. It feels as sinful as Joel’s mouth traveling down your neck.

You want Frankie to know just how badly you want this so you snake your hand down to palm at Joel’s cock straining against his jeans. He’s big, more than a handful. Joel groans against your collar bone. Frankie winces.

Joel’s touch leaves goosebumps on your skin. He trails his fingers down your chest and teases around the fabric of your bra. You unhook it and toss it aside then wriggle out of your pants. He lets out a low hum at the sight of you exposed.

“I’d hate to be the man that let this gorgeous thing get away,” Joel says.

He cups your breast, then puts his mouth to it. His teeth graze against your nipple and you hear Frankie hiss before you do.

Joel sits down on the bed, the one you’ve shared with Frankie for years, and draws you down to his lips. As he kisses you, his forefingers notch in the waistband of your panties and drags them down painfully slowly. He’s drawing it out for his audience, inch by inch before dropping them to the floor. His eyes look over the newly revealed flesh hungrily. The heat of his gaze and Frankie’s longing stare has you slick and needy.

Joel turns you around and sits you between his legs. He pulls you into his chest and spreads your legs wide, putting you on display for Frankie. His fingers strum at you, feather light and your hips buck.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

“Sensitive,” he says.

His stubble bites into your shoulder as he continues to touch you, carefully, finding the spots that make you melt. You tip your head back into him, tuck your face into the crook of his neck as you begin to lose yourself to pleasure. He smells so good— earthy and fresh and masculine. You want his scent all over your sheets.

“Come here. On your knees,” Joel commands.

Frankie swears under his breath but he obeys, kneeling in front of you, his nostrils flaring as he watches you writhe under Joel’s touch.

“Open up,” Joel says and swats at Frankie’s cheek.

It doesn’t seem like he used much force but still you say, “Don’t hurt him.”

None of the scars you have from Frankie are physical.

“That’s okay,” Frankie mumbles.

You’re surprised by him once again. He wants it, the full force of this torture.

“Yeah. She’s too nice to you,” Joel tells him.

He sticks two thick fingers into Frankie’s mouth, so deep that he gags. Joel returns them to your pussy, sliding one inside. The stretch pulls a dreamy sigh from you as the heel of his hand creates unbelievable friction against your clit.

Frankie’s eyes are riveted to the spot where Joel’s finger disappears inside of you.

“Hey,” Joel barks.

You look past the edge of the bed to see Frankie’s hand over his dick, thumb brushing down its length. It’s glazed in strands of precum, desperate.

“Hold on, beautiful,” Joel says, kissing your neck and removing his hand. He shifts around you on the bed and stands up.

“Do you think ought to be doing that?” Joel asks.

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him towering over Frankie, fully clothed while the other man shrinks beneath him like a scolded puppy.

“Next time you want to touch yourself, think about how you wronged this woman.”

Frankie makes a choked sound and he looks up at you with an apology in his eyes. Your first impulse is to go to him, comfort him, but then you remember why you’re here— the litany of fuck ups you’ve had to suffer. The nights you were home with the baby while Frankie went to Benny’s fights. The money that went up his nose. The excuses you made for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll make it up to you. You know what she likes?” Joel asks him.

Frankie nods.

“Show me.”

Frankie moves slowly like he’s worried Joel’s trying to trick him. He puts his lips to you, tongue rounding your clit in the way that always drives you wild. Your head falls back with a long, slow release of breath. There’s no denying how good those luscious strokes feel. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s Frankie disappointing you and then giving you a mind blowing orgasm as penance.

As you rock your hips up towards his mouth, he starts to work faster like his life depends on it. Little grunts escape him and the sensation mounts, muscles tensing.

“Joel,” you whine as if he’s the one that’s making your legs begin to shake.

Frankie falters for just a second upon hearing the other man’s name. Though he lost that perfect rhythm, knowing you’ve hit him again makes up for it.

You go inwards, focusing all of your attention on the heat at your core, sure that you’ll break at any moment.

Suddenly, he’s gone and you gasp, your high stolen away. You look up to see Joel holding Frankie back by the scruff of his neck.

“You don’t get to make her cum,” Joel says.

If you were disappointed, Frankie looks absolutely devastated to be parted from you. His face is screwed up in torment, his glistening lower lip turned down in a frown.

Joel casts him aside and takes his place between your thighs.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his forearms around your open thighs.

His strokes are different but it feels just as dizzying. You close your eyes and lay back again, melting into his wet mouth. He hums against your lips and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. It’s been such a long time since you’ve felt something wholly different, the newness makes everything you experience heightened.

It’s not long before your ass is lifting off the sheets, panting and absolutely coming undone. Your tightening around nothing, your legs threatening to snap shut around Joel’s ears.

You’ve completely forgotten about Frankie in this moment of bliss. Especially when Joel says, “That’s my girl. Deserve to feel like that all the time.”

He kisses the crease of your thigh and up your belly, putting his lips to every inch of you.

“You look beautiful, darlin’. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

“Yeah.” Frankie’s throat sounds dry like he just crossed a desert.

A blissful smile softens your face.

You roll into Joel’s chest and tug on his belt loops, grinding his hips against you. The denim is deliciously rough against your swollen clit and you can feel a damp spot. He wants you.

“Get these off so you can fuck me,” you say.

Joel chuckles. “Needy girl.”

He gets up and you see Frankie at the foot of the bed, helpless. You know him well enough to understand that look in his eye that’s begging you not to go all the way. You’ve made your point. Mercy.

You arch an eyebrow. Does he really think he’s paid the price?

—

All of the muscles in Frankie’s legs burn. His knees ache. It’s his ego that’s taking a beating.

He doesn’t have to sit here and watch this. In fact, he probably could’ve stopped this before it even began. But he hasn’t moved an inch. There’s part of him that knows he deserves this torment, another part that enjoys it. So he stays there watching you from a wholly new perspective.

“What’s her favorite position?” Joel asks as he shucks off his pants.

You’re watching him strip down eagerly, licking your lips like some kind of hungry beast. You used to look at him like that.

“She likes it from behind,” Frankie admits.

Joel’s eyebrows raise and he looks at you for confirmation. You can’t help but giggle.

“Filthy little thing,” Joel says.

Frankie’s always thought that too. You drove him wild with the dirty things you asked for. You’d get him hard under the table at the bar, pull him into the bathroom at Will’s place for a quickie. Things haven’t been like that between you for a long time, though.

Frankie’s eyes rake over Joel’s naked form. His arms are muscular and tan, well built for a man in his 50s. Well endowed, too. He doesn’t want to look but how can he stop himself from comparing his own cock to the one that’s about to fuck you? He doesn’t want to think about the way his mouth waters either.

“Frankie, you got a condom?” Joel calls.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “You can cum in me.”

Frankie’s stomach turns but the desire twists in his belly. He can’t wait to be put out of his misery.

“Fuck,” Joel growls.

You get on all fours for Joel, ass up in the air, tits swaying just the way Frankie likes. You’re about eye level with him so he’s right there with you when Joel pushes inside of you. You moan, so pretty, and your face strains at the pressure. It’s such an obscene sight— only problem is that he’s not the one giving it to you. His cock still responds, twitching with need. He hates it and he loves it.

Joel’s swearing, gritting his teeth. His fingers dimple the flesh around your hips with a strong grip. Frankie knows exactly how exquisite it feels to be inside you, surrounded by warm velvet. He wants to be the one who’s hips, thighs are fucking against you, splitting you open and making you shake.

Instead he has to watch. Watch your back arch. Listen to that succulent squelch where your bodies meet. Savor the taste of you still on his tongue.

And because he wants to touch himself and he’s good at following a command, he thinks about all the times he’s forgotten your anniversary or gotten high before Thanksgiving dinner. It hurts and it feels so good.

When Joel finishes, he spares Frankie by not doing it inside of you. But Frankie has to see him paint your ass with it, marking you as you touch yourself and whine.

It stings. You’ve been looking at him like a cockroach and he’s so fucking turned on it’s painful. He’s still throbbing, surprised he hasn’t yet burst from hearing you cum. His cock is swollen, leaking and slick.

He’s obediently waiting, biting on his lip so hard that he can practically taste blood. Each moment of torment only intensifies the pleasure.

You’re glowing now, laid out on your side, chest still heaving. Joel’s caging you between his arms, kissing your jaw as you rake your fingers through his hair. He glances at Frankie like he just remembered that he’s there.

“How does he look?” Joel asks.

“Pathetic,” you say, still out of breath, and give a little laugh.

It makes him ache.

You stretch your arms over your head luxuriously

and sigh. “Let him cum.”

Frankie lets out a whimper. You’ve always been so generous with him. You’ve been patient and loved him when he’s made it so damn difficult. He’s never deserved you and he doesn’t deserve to get this release. But fuck he’s never needed it more.

“You do it,” you tell Joel with a mischievous smile.

He shakes his head with a laugh.

Frankie swallows thickly when Joel approaches him. He takes Frankie’s chin in his hand, the pad of his thumb grazing against his stubble. From his place on the floor, Frankie can smell you on him.

“Up,” Joel says.

He gets to his feet as quickly as he can but it takes some effort. His toes are tingling and even the air moving around his cock as he rises feels unbearable.

Joel’s near enough that Frankie can feel his breath on his neck. He lets out a moan and shuts his eyes. Joel’s hand closes around him, squeezes the base of his cock and Frankie bucks.

“You like that Frankie?” he hears you ask. “You like feeling his hands on you?”

He doesn’t know, can’t form words or even thoughts. Frankie’s never been touched by another man before, not like that. He’s so senseless he doesn’t even bother to figure out how he feels about doing this. If that’s what you want for him right now, he’s willing to do it.

Joel tugs at him, his hand rough except for what’s leaked down Frankie’s length. He’s so sensitive, so delirious.

“She asked you a question.” Joel’s lips are pressed against his ear, the sweat of his chest sticky on Frankie’s back. He sets a steady pace with his strokes.

Frankie tries to answer but he chokes, sees white behind his eyes. His climax is as violent as a slap in the face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby,” he babbles as he coats Joel’s fist.

When the fog lifts and Frankie blinks his vision back into focus, you’re staring at him and Joel with your lips parted. You look turned on and awe struck and exhilarated. Frankie wavers and Joel catches him by the shoulder.

“You gonna make it?” Joel asks him.

Frankie can only nod. He feels relieved. Not just from the release. He tries to catch his breath, sitting on the floor.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Joel offers.

“Mm,” you respond.

Frankie’s left alone. He hears the shower. There’s so much to make sense of and he’s still, quite frankly, delirious.

He’s shocked when you come out of the bathroom a moment later, your robe hangs in your naked body. He wishes he could touch you but he’s not sure if he still has that privilege.

You crouch down beside him, a damp washcloth in your hand, and you begin to clean him. It’s warm and soft on his chin and you’re gentle as you mop up his thigh. He’s overcome. Once again you’re so good to him and he’s unworthy.

Your face is a mix of emotions and he can tell you’re thinking. You’re careful not to meet his eye until you’re finished and when you do, all of the mischief and desire is gone.

You sigh.

“You can stay but you’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him.

A knot forms in his throat and he thinks he might just cry.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper without tears.

You nod and then hesitate. Another sigh. Finally you put your lips to his forehead, a light, quick kiss. It feels like something close to forgiveness.

---

thanks for reading!

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

#joel miller fic #joel miller #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #tlou #the last of us fic #triple frontier fic

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rip-quizilla · 3 months

Text

There Will Be No Tenderness (Band Politics)

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 8: Band Politics

A/N: This is a two-part story. Both parts can be read as one-shots, but together they create one complete narrative. Part 2 will be posted for Day 12: Ow! and while this post does not contain any mature content, part 2 will be a strictly 18+ smutty story.

WC: 985

Tags: Eddie Munson X Henderson!Reader, backup singer!Reader, female!Reader, enemies to lovers, bratty reader, arguing counts as foreplay, strong language

Summary: You've been stepping on Eddie's toes ever since you joined Corroded Coffin, and he's finally had enough.

Divider was created by @strangergraphics

Eddie wouldn’t call you an enemy.

He might call you an adversary. A rival. He’d most certainly call you a pain in his ass.

He told himself he had the power to kick you to the curb if he finally decided he’d had enough. All it would take was one ‘you’re out!’ from him, and you’d be gone. That’s what he had to tell himself.

Because he knew the rest of the band loved you too much to let him simply kick you out without consulting them first.

He hated it. Hated how quickly you’d gotten on their good sides.

His word used to be law around here- the most argumentative band member had always been Gareth. At the most, he’d grumble a bit when Eddie disagreed with him but he’d never contradict him.

Then you came along.

When Eddie had mentioned to Dustin that they were looking for someone to do some backup vocals on a track, he’d laughed when the twerp suggested his older sister since she “had a background in musical theater”. He’d still been laughing when you showed up to one of their practices asking them to give you a shot. The laughter had only stopped when you’d suggested they play Flash of the Blade, and you’d known every word. Hit every note. Given him fucking goosebumps.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d assimilated into the band’s culture without any discord. If you’d been just as agreeable as the rest- but you had a lot of opinions, and they always seemed to contradict Eddie’s.

“We were a little flat on the second verse,” he would say, to which you would reply, “I thought we were perfect!”

“You came in too early on the chorus.” he would tell you, and you would bite back, “I was on time, you were late.”

Then you’d had the gall to suggest staying in the band as a permanent member- in front of the entire band- without consulting him first.

The guys had all been so happy to agree- fuck yes! They’d exclaimed. About time! They’d cheered. Nobody asked Eddie if he thought it was a good idea. Which he didn’t.

You were too argumentative. Too quick to disagree with him even though this was his fucking band. You were insubordinate. Fucking mutinous.

The last straw was that gig in Bloomington.

The band had been asked to play a college party. Eddie hadn’t established any kind of uniform for the performance- he wasn’t a drill sergeant. He’d simply told the band to dress casual.

And then you had shown up in an outfit that was so slutty, it looked like it jumped out of a porno.

A black skirt made of pleated black pleather, just long enough to skim the bottom of your ass. A tiny black baby tee that was so ripped, he could see the black lacy bra you wore underneath. Black combat boots with platform heels. Lipstick red as fresh blood.

“Absolutely not.” Eddie had declared, turning his back on you within seconds of laying eyes on your ensemble.

“What do you mean?” you scoffed, incredulously. Already arguing, Eddie noted. Not surprised.

“I’m wearing exactly what you told us to wear!”

“I’d hardly call that casual.” he countered.

“This is my casual.”

“Yeah, for casual Fridays at the brothel you look like you came from!”

“Haven’t you heard the phrase sex sells? Eddie, rockstars put girls in bikinis onstage all the time, why is this any different?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course you didn’t get it. “If we resort to selling sex, it’s like we’re openly admitting that we think our music isn’t good! It’s saying that we don’t think our music is worth paying attention to, so hey! Let’s put some tits and ass up on the stage, that’ll get people’s attention!”

“Oh, and I’m the tits and ass?’

“You said it, sweetheart, not me.”

“Fuck you!” you spat.

“Yeah, right back atcha.”

He half expected you to walk away, but he should have known better by now.

“Why don’t you like me?” you asked, blunt and demanding as you took a step closer to him.

Eddie blanched. “I like you just fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“God, you always have to argue, huh?”

You scoffed. “I do when you’re wrong. Or lying to me, which you’re doing right now because you most definitely do not like me.”

“God, you’re infuriating.” Eddie raked his fingers through his hair, searching for somewhere more private to hash this out before you caused a scene in the middle of this party house. Spying a nearby bathroom, he grabbed your wrist and hauled you to it before closing the door and locking it behind him.

“Fine. You wanna hear it?” Eddie seethed. “No, I don’t like you. You’ve never agreed with me, not once. You always have something to say, and-”

“Are you saying I’m not entitled to an opin- mmph!”

Eddie silenced you with a hand to your mouth, launching your eyes from angry slits to saucers.

“No. For once in your goddamn life, you’re going to listen to me without arguing.”

You made no motion to move him off you. You simply watched him, eyes wide and waiting.

“Everyone likes you. They used to listen to me, but now they also listen to you. That would be fine with me if you would just fucking agree with me once in a while. Don’t just oppose me outright every time.”

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth. You were silent, eyes still wide as they followed his hand when it left your skin. Your breathing was heavy, cheeks heated and body language shifted- where there was usually brash confidence, Eddie now saw coy submission.

This would have seemed out of place, but the look in your eye told Eddie all he needed to know.

“You… liked that… didn’t you?”

Read the sequel, Love Me Mercilessly (Day 12: Ow!)

#eddie munson #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #henderson!reader

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binsito · 1 year

Text

service

pairing: kim seungmin x fem reader

synopsis: busy seungmin hires a cleaning lady to spiff up his home only to accidentally hire a topless maid ♡

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, oral sex (f & m receiving), usage of the word "mister" in a sexual setting, "good girl" is used once, slight body cumshot, slight power play ??

note - seungmin as a business man is very sexy to me.. i hope i articulated this story well bc imagining it in my brain was very 😵‍💫

seungmin was a very busy man.

his career often had him working long, stressful hours. his success came with the sacrifice of his social life and maybe a couple of metaphorical gray hairs due to the constant goals he needed to reach for his company.

he was proud of his work, no matter how tedious his job may be. sure, he barely had time to himself but his mother had always advised him to become a hardworking, professional man and of course he listened. at such a young age, he found himself quickly getting promoted and making enough to live comfortably, he couldn’t complain.

he normally came home late, toeing his shoes off at the front door and sighing as he made his way to his room. tugging at his tie to fall back into his bed. his house virtually looked unlived in. it was a lovely place, marble flooring with high ceilings but the only purpose it served him was to sleep and get ready for work the next day, an unbreakable cycle. he knew he needed to take better care of his home, at least dust it off here and there, but with what time? he could barely use the bathroom for five seconds before work emails would pour in. he figured it was about time he found someone to tend to the house for him, do his laundry, maybe have some meals prepared for him. he had the means to pay for such a service so why not? having a cleaning lady wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

he needed someone fast so he scrolled online for services while he unwinded in bed. the quicker someone could show up to fix his house up, the better.

he ended up finding an ad that piqued his interest, clicking on it to get more information. the rate they were charging was a bit high but he assumed it was probably because they included more in their cleaning packages. “fuck it.” he sighed out as he booked the soonest available date, at least his house wouldn’t keep suffering from his negligence. __ the next morning, he was getting ready for work as he got a confirmation text message. “morning, mister kim. i’ll be arriving at 10:30, we’ll keep in touch” you had messaged. he was pleased at how quickly his appointment got approved and he finished up so he could greet you when you arrived.

eventually his doorbell rang and he walked over to open it, smiling at you as he moved aside to let you in.

“hello, mister kim” you smiled as you introduced yourself. you held your hand out for him to shake. he returned the smile and shook your hand firmly, he seemed like a gentleman and his house was lovely.

he explained everything around the house in great detail and gave you a small tour. it was a beautiful house, very modern and sleek although you could tell he barely lived in it, it lacked the warmth of a typical well loved home. “feel free to make yourself comfortable.. i left a list on the kitchen counter of things i need you to do. thank you for coming so punctually, shoot me a text whenever.” and with that, he was gone. grabbing his briefcase as he hurried out the door to start his day. you looked over the list: sweep and mop, change his bedsheets, iron his suits and dust off his bookshelves. cute, you thought as you noticed he signed his name on the bottom right corner in elegant cursive along with the date.

you started going around the house, working diligently, humming as you carefully dusted off his bookshelves. he seemed interesting, lots of books about philosophy and music. it seemed he was well versed in piano, having lots of classical sheet music scattered about.

your mind began to wonder.. he was handsome, was he single? he had to be seeing someone right? engaged at the very least? but the more you looked around, the more you noticed the absence of a womanly presence in his home. just one toothbrush, one towel, no makeup lingering around, no forgotten panties or heels, nothing.

you weren’t one to jump to conclusions but normally one’s bedroom held a lot of information about someone.

is that why he requested your services? you wondered..

nothing wrong with hiring a topless maid to clean your house, it was always fun for both parties. he’d be satisfied with a cute little maid doing house chores and you’d be enjoying the attention and compensation. besides, he was pretty attractive and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home that evening to see what would ensue from him seeing you with your tits out for him.

but the problem was.. seungmin had no fucking idea he had requested services from a topless maid. he was tired, half asleep and just really needed his house to be cleaned. maybe he should’ve checked thoroughly, maybe he should’ve read between the lines when the site stated that they offered “special services”.

stupid, stupid mistake. so when he comes home and unlocks the door, the last thing he expected was to see you semi nude.

his jaw almost hit the damn floor, eyes widening while you acted so nonchalant. you glanced over at him with a soft smile, washing some dishes while your pretty tits were on display for him, buds hardening from the cold air in his house. “welcome back home, mister kim” you smiled coyly “h-hi um..” his brain was short circuiting, he didn’t even know what to say or do (he would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on to be greeted in such a way). “excuse me.. im going to set my things down in my office” he said, trying not to look down at your exposed chest as he tried to also hide his painful erection. he quickly walked off and checked the website again once he was alone in his office, laughing at how dumb his mistake was. if he had read carefully he would've noticed the implications of the website. “dammit seungmin.. you are quite the idiot..” he said to himself with a chuckle. however, it was a pleasant surprise even if it was unintentional on his part. he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a nice pair of tits. this was making him realize how badly he needed to take a vacation from work and go have some fun. maybe the lack of a relationship and intimacy was making him dizzy because he couldn’t help but think this was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

so he let out a sigh and straightened himself out before walking back out. you had since finished the dishes and were leisurely wiping down his countertop. “everything alright, mister kim?” you asked as you leaned over the counter, head leaning against one of your hands he nodded his head and sat at one of the bar stools “no.. everything’s fine. were you alright while i was gone?”

“mhm.. but i was excited for you to get back.. wanted you to compliment me on my job well done. did i do good mister kim? the house looks nice and tidy doesn’t it?” you giggled softly “oh yes.. looks a lot better thank you. you did a perfect job, good girl” “ah.. would you like me to take your shoes off for you? i mopped and i don’t want you to mess up my hard work..” you pouted. before he could answer, you had made yourself over to him, getting on your knees beneath him and pulling off his shoes. you could feel his gaze on you, he was a little tense and you found it absolutely amusing. you knew he was trying hard to act calm but you could see right through his demeanor. “oh mister kim.. you’re so hardworking.. i can tell.. poor thing. all work and no play..” you cooed. “want me to help with that? i know you want to touch.. just tell me mister kim..” you stated blatantly, no need to beat the bush when you could tell from the tightness of his pants that he was turned on. “a-are you sure?..” his voice was weak, he thought he sounded absolutely pathetic. “oh yes mister kim.. i’m at your service remember? i wanna play too you know? i think i deserve it for doing such a good job.. been waiting for you to get home to me allll day.. i worked extra hard for my reward..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes with a devilish smile. having sex with a client was never off the table for you, especially if you found them hot. if the situation arose and you were both down, you took the opportunity. you liked being taken care of after making their house look spotless. and lucky for seungmin, if he wanted to go further than just a little topless cleaning, you were more than willing to indulge him, he was just your type. seungmin couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex.. he had been so swamped with work that he had since forgotten about such a thing. he was normally so uptight and frustrated with work, the occasional jerking off on the weekend wasn’t even doing it for him anymore. he shyly leaned forward and cupped one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze before pinching the bud, his big hands were able to cup a decent handful and he was pleased at how warm they felt in his hand. “how can i help you mister kim?.. oh please tell me.. i’m dying to get to work..” his hands were basically trembling at the sound of your sultry voice. he could barely form a sentence, face flushed with his mouth slightly agape. this was absolutely preposterous but he was brimming with lust and want. he nervously started to undo his belt, pushing his bangs back a bit to get a better look at what he was doing.

there was nothing sexier than a man in a suit, freshly off work, a bit disheveled and tired from the work load but ready to to pull his cock out.

once his cock was visible to you, you bit your lip in anticipation. he was long, his cock leaking and an angry red, you were sure you could take care of his problem very well.

the length was making your mouth water, the idea of him being able to reach so deep inside of you making your thighs press together. “oh mister kim.. your cock looks delicious.. may i have some?”

mouth open and willing to take him, you were so ready to taste him, hear the noises he would make. normally the shy ones were the loudest ones in your experience and you were excited to see him let go.

“go ahead.. make yourself right at home..” he says, cock twitching as he watched you inch towards his head, sucking on the tip and smiling against it “so fucking yummy..” you whispered before taking more of him, closing your eyes when his cock hit the back of your throat.

you had to use a hand to stroke the bit that didn’t quite fit, gagging on his cock as you coated him in spit. drool trickling down his shaft and collecting on his balls as you reached down to give him a tight squeeze.

“s-shit.. i-i’ll cum if you do that..” he whined, eyes glued on everything you were doing to him.

and that only encouraged you to do it again, feeling his thighs clench as a grunt left his throat, pulling off just before he reached his high and giggling at him as he protested.

“don’t you wanna be inside instead?” you got up from your knees, bending yourself over the counter.

his eyes traced over the swell of your ass that was peeking from under the useless skirt. you were wearing a flimsy thong that would surely rip if he tugged on it just a little bit

“c’mon mister kim.. please.. i want your cock inside me..” canting your hips at him to entice him further but he was already planning on shoving his dick inside you.

he stood up behind you, lifting your skirt further to finally reveal your ass, thong irritatingly in the way so he picked it aside as he rubbed his cock against you. he thought he was dreaming, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him because there was no way in hell this was happening, not when it felt this good.

he gripped your hips tightly with one hand as his guided his cock to your hole, it was so tight, sucking his tip right in as he bit his lip in restraint. you opened your legs further for him as he pressed another inch in.

“fuckk mister kim.. can you feel how wet i am? my pussy is dripping..” and he definitely could feel it. he could also feel how you purposely clenched around him, how soft your walls were, how inviting and warm your hole was. he couldn’t wait to have you full stretched along his cock.

once he bottomed out, he gripped your hair, pulling you into an arch as he fucked into you, tits bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips

his bangs hanging over his eyes, sticking to his forehead as he muttered incoherent curses.

“s-shit! you’re taking my cock so well..” he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of you

he didn’t know how long he would last, his balls tightening with every thrust. he was soon to be a goner, it just felt so fucking unreal, all this pent up stress about to blow deeply inside your pussy. you moved against him, meeting his thrusts as you reached down to touch your clit, the ridges of his cock pushing against you so perfectly you thought your knees would give out.

“i-i’m gonna cum oh my god.. s-shit shit!”

one final pump and he was cumming, quickly pulling out to spill over your asscheeks. he was out of breath yet still rock hard.

you got on top of the counter on all fours invitingly, which seungmin gladly accepted the offer. spreading you open as he buried his face deep in your cunt, lapping hungrily as you moaned. wet noises filling his normally quiet home.

his tongue didn't leave a single crevice untouched, flattening and sucking harshly as your toes curled from the pleasure. he pressed his tongue in while his fingers came up to rub your clit. his nimble fingers coaxing an orgasm from you, one that made a mantra of "mister kim's" spill from your lips.

your essence all over his face as he licked his lips, sighing in ecstasy, giving you a light slap on the ass as he pulled your skirt back down

both of you in a haze yet still craving more. you knew this definitely wasn't going to be the last time seungmin would request services from you.

which was absolutely right.

seungmin quickly booked you again for the following week after you had left, same day and time. you were bubbling with anticipation for the next time you’d come over.

you fucking loved your job.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader smut #kim seungmin #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin stray kids #seungmin skz #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader smut #binsito : seungmin

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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year

Note

Girl I saw u open requests for spider verse and I ran here right away snsnsknsmsjdndh I'm bad at explaining shit but could you write something for miguel that's like wait i forgot what I was gonna say damn I had a good scenario in my head too well hell never mind just ignore this I think im still tweaking lmao

ₗₐ ᵥᵢᵤdₐ ₍ₜₕₑ Wᵢdₒw₎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ x ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ!(ᴡɪꜰᴇ) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʏʟᴠᴇʀꜱ- ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ

TW: Angst, Death, grieving, comfort towards the end

A/N: I had a fic idea for Miguel (My beloved), and now I shall write it. I listened to I bet on losing my dogs by Mitski while writing this. I didn't cry, I swear. I hope this was to your liking, I couldn't wait, I had the need to write something.

Masterlist

You had lost everything, your daughter and your husband. You knew that being Spider-Woman had a prize, but you didn't expect for it to be like this. First it was your aunt and now your family was gone. Sometimes you wished that you could of gone back in time in time to save your husband and daughter, but there was no way. The first weeks, you basically slept at the graveyard, on top of there tombstones, you didn't want to part away from them.

For many years you've mourned, you never let yourself fall in love again, your husband was the love of your life and the only man that you'd ever love. You felt as if you were betraying him in a way, you had promised to him that you'd never love anyone else but him and him only. You still had your wedding wing, you'd wear it on your hand and when out on patrol, you never took it off. You also still had his stuff in your room, pretending as if he was still there, you didn't have the heart to give his stuff away to people who needed it, you couldn't do it.

You also kept your daughter's room the same, you left it alone, the only time when you'd move anything was when you'd go to clean off the dust and change the bedsheets. Sometimes you'd go in her room to just look at the stuff she had, you felt as if she was with you the whole time. You'd lay on her bed while hugging her soccer jersey, her first jersey, sometimes you'd cry on the shirt, wishing that she was there, telling you and your husband about her game. Just like your husband's things, you didn't want to give them away. How could you? She was you first baby, your daughter, the one that you carried in your belly for nine months, the one who'd cry when she was hungry or wanted her parents attention, she was yours and Miguel's baby. Gabriella will always and forever be your child. Sometime you wore the little gold bracelet that she owned when she was still a baby, on a necklace, to have something of hers on while on patrol.

That was unexpected, you had ended up in a secret Spider Society with Miles. A boy you began to work with after bumping into one another while trying to stop a mugger, that was when you decided to team up together as a duo. You knew about his identity and he knew about yours. You both had come up with the excuse that you were a lady that was teaching him Spanish since his parents would wonder where he'd wonder off to. It worked his you knew Spanish, it was a different kind of Spanish, but his mother was happy that he was learning it.

You were getting to learn about all the Spider-Men and women, how they were all from different dimensions and what they did in headquarters. Then you got taken to a room, where who you assumed the leader of the whole thing was. As soon as you saw who it was, you nearly fainted. It was the one and only, Miguel O'Hara, your husband, well, not really your husband, but it was him.

"Y/n... is that who I think it is?" Miles whispered to you, then he saw the look off shock in your face, getting the idea that you knew who it was. Miles knew about your past, who your husband and daughter were. When the man turned, his serious face turned to one of shock, just like yours. Gwen was the one to noticed both you and Miguel staring at each other, then she had an idea. "I...um.. I'm going to show Miles around a bit" she excused, then took Miles by the arm, guiding him out and Hobie followed them.

Miguel approached you slowly, seen every inch of you, wanting to see if it was you, his wife, not his particular wife, but you were her. After a bit of staring, he spoke. "You're not my wife.." he said, sadly, then you responded. "You're not my husband.." you said, with tears forming in your eyes. Miguel wanted to hold you in his arm so bad, comfort you and tell you how much he missed you, but he didn't.

You sigh, wiping off your tears. "So... you're spider man.." you said, there was a bit of an awkward silence, then he spoke. "And you're spider woman.." he said, as he reached over and placing a pieced of your hair behind your ear. You couldn't help but ask. "Gabriella... how is she..?" you asked, Miguel almost flinched violently by the question. "She's... gone.." he said, sounding very defeated by his response. You swallowed the lump that had built up on your throat. "You too?" you asked, this time tears had spilled from your eyes.

This made Miguel look at you, he got the memo that Gabriella was also gone in your universe. It hurt, seen that in both his and yours universe your daughter was gone. He sighed, seen that you had began to cry, it was obvious that you had not got over his and Gabriella's death like he was. He come over yours and his daughter's death, it took him a while but eventually he understood that no matter what he did, he could never bring you or his daughter back, but he couldn't help but miss the both of you. It was understandable, you were a wife and a mother, who lost both her husband and first baby. And he was a husband and a father that went through the same thing as you. Then he just went for it.

Miguel then pulled you into a tight hug, you didn't hesitate to hug him back. You buried your face onto his chest, crying, letting out all your sadness. You hugged him tightly was your so called Husband rubbed your back comfortingly. Being in his arms, felt like an eternity, you had forgot the last time you were held by him like this. You began to remember the first time you met, it was raining outside one night, and you had forgot to get an umbrella, then you came across Miguel, who was walking somewhere, who knows, but he saw how drenched you were and had offered you his umbrella. You didn't want to take it since you didn't want him to get soaked, but he insisted until you took it. Then he left, that kind gesture meant a lot. Afterwards you had made it your mission to find him and return his umbrella, it was weeks but you finally manage to find him again, in another rainy day, then the rest was history.

Rainy days had become significant to you an Miguel, since you both met on a rainy day. Every time it would rain, you and your husband would go outside to enjoy the rain, not caring that you both would get sick the next day, it was worth it, if it meant being sick together. Then Gabriella came in, she too would also come with you and Miguel out in the rain. "It's okay Mi amor" he said sweetly, but also sadly. You cried more, it's been years since you've been called that by your husband, he wasn't technically your husband, but he was. No matter what universe you were from, you and Miguel would be husband and wife. And Gabriella your daughter, you'd like to think that maybe in a different universe, you were all alive and living a happy life together.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara angst #female reader #female y/n #wife reader #wife y/n #spider woman reader #spider woman y/n #aphrodite's writing #aphrodite's requests

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calliesmemes · 4 months

Text

PINTEREST QUOTES WITH POTENTIAL

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS pulled from various quotations I have seen on Pinterest while creating boards for my muses.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ Who’s a heretic now? ❜

❛ If I stay here, trouble will find me. ❜

❛ What’s it like to be so free? ❜

❛ I watched the whole world fall apart. ❜

❛ I am teaching myself how to be free. ❜

❛ The only solution is to stand and fight. ❜

❛ There’s something tragic about you. ❜

❛ You were never a saint. ❜

❛ To be a woman is to perform. ❜

❛ l speak in verses, prophecies, and curses. ❜

❛ Now I know what I was born for. ❜

❛ There’s a light in all of us, trying to get free. ❜

❛ There is nobody innocent here. ❜

❛ Look who’s digging their own grave. ❜

❛ Come a little closer, if you dare. ❜

❛ Family defines you, even if it demands sacrifice. ❜

❛ History does strange things to dead women. ❜

❛ I can’t believe the things I’ve done. ❜

❛ Hubris is a bitch. ❜

❛ It’s all in your head. ❜

❛ I keep my visions to myself. ❜

❛ We could be heroes. ❜

❛ Take my hand, and I’ll protect you. ❜

❛ Open your eyes. This is the revolution. ❜

❛ I am so much more than they told me I was. ❜

❛ Let me be your muse. ❜

❛ I’m not just a pretty girl. ❜

❛ Your fear of looking stupid is holding you back. ❜

❛ I wish I could be the perfect daughter. ❜

❛ I am not who I was before. ❜

❛ I won’t just be a puppet on a string. ❜

❛ If I can still breathe, I’m fine. ❜

❛ Straighten up, little soldier. ❜

❛ Am I a monster, or a victim myself? ❜

❛ This isn’t the way normal people live. ❜

❛ Your impression of me is wrong. ❜

❛ I wish I could let all this anger go. ❜

❛ I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. ❜

❛ If I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have met you. ❜

❛ Maybe there’s a hero in me after all. ❜

❛ I am happy anywhere that I can see the ocean. ❜

❛ They should be terrified of you. ❜

❛ I have seen the future. ❜

❛ Let go of the illusion that it could’ve been different. ❜

❛ My father is a good man. ❜

❛ I went to war with myself for you. ❜

❛ I care too much in a world that cares too little. ❜

❛ If it makes you happy, then it’s not a waste of time. ❜

❛ Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes. ❜

❛ You make everyone around you feel seen. ❜

❛ If you feel nothing, then why are you shaking? ❜

❛ Let’s run somewhere far away. ❜

❛ You carry your last name like a burden. ❜

❛ You are at war, even in your dreams. ❜

❛ We met for a reason. ❜

❛ I designed my own catastrophe. ❜

❛ You and I are the same thing. ❜

❛ Never let another soul tell you what to fear. ❜

❛ I have always loved the sea. ❜

❛ I didn’t say I liked it — I said that it fascinated me. ❜

❛ You will never be forgiven. ❜

❛ No one ever really dies. ❜

❛ Your son is gone. ❜

❛ Death must exist for life to have meaning. ❜

❛ Your mouth is full of white lies. ❜

❛ Loving me is a death sentence. ❜

❛ There is a thunderstorm inside of you. ❜

❛ Beauty is a weapon. ❜

❛ You haven’t even seen my bad side yet. ❜

❛ How do I stop the guilt? ❜

❛ I am a victim of introspection. ❜

❛ Love is what gives me strength to survive. ❜

❛ There is nobody innocent here. ❜

❛ You’ve seen too much too young. ❜

❛ I am not of mortal men. ❜

❛ Tell me what it’s like to conquer. ❜

❛ I like who I’m becoming. A lot. ❜

❛ I don’t believe in promises anymore. ❜

❛ Parents kill more dreams than anybody. ❜

❛ You are woven into my veins. ❜

❛ You are a diamond. They can’t break you. ❜

❛ I must not hope. I must not cry. ❜

❛ It’s no wonder that you can’t sleep — you’re haunted. ❜

❛ You are made of destructive magic. ❜

❛ You are so unique. ❜

❛ I myself am a haunted house. ❜

❛ You comfort others with the words you want to hear. ❜

❛ You’ll find love, kid. It exists. ❜

❛ You talk like a book. ❜

❛ You are one of God’s few mistakes. ❜

❛ I’m not capable of saving you. ❜

❛ Curiosity often leads to trouble. ❜

❛ I have crossed oceans of time to find you. ❜

❛ I can do this. Even if I can’t, I have to. ❜

❛ I can’t go back there! ❜

❛ Forests have secrets. It’s practically what they’re for. ❜

❛ Can you remember who you were? ❜

❛ Are you proud of who you have become? ❜

❛ I see in you an old soul with young eyes. ❜

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme #rpc help

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leviathxn · 6 months

Note

So mutual feelings (romantic)

Can you do like a Miguel x reader where its reader day off and she decides she wants to take a warm shower and listen to music so she puts on headphones and listen to pop or Spanish music or whatever(I was listening to follow the leader by Jlo that’s where this idea came from) and Miguel tries to call her because he needs help with some paperwork (not really he just won’t admit he misses her) so Miguel ends up going to her universe and to her apartment where he sees her in a towel dancing to music and singing along and finds it adorable

That’s the basic idea you can make it have a spicy end or just fluff , it can swing both ways , you can decide that

Okay this made me giggle 🤭

I can like imagine his face being from kind of cold/a little annoyed too this like little gummy smile 😩

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“What could this woman be doing”

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As a member of the Spider-verse you very rarely had time off. Sure, your universe was safe, but you were frequently called to help other Spiders and their anomalies. Work was your life, and of course their was downtime but fighting bad guys was exhausting, it took up a good chunk of the day, even week.

Your boyfriend, Miguel, even had slowed down your missions. Once he had started to like you, he pulled a mission once a week, which at first confused you but now that you’re dating, he’ll try and pull you from anything. You never really listened though, going on any mission possible. It’s your job, and the spider crew was fun to be around.

But finally, you decided to listen. Miguel had sent out missions with everybody on it, he never put you there, but he knew you would go. This time you pulled out a coffee mug, turned off your watch, made some fancy coffee (you’ve been dying to finally sit and enjoy this new coffee machine you got and it’s finally the time), and took a big stretch. This was your day, and you knew your city was safe ever since installing city watch bots (thank you Miggy 💕).

About two hours passed, people had gone on their missions, you finally finished savoring that beautiful coffee, and you paused your show. You hadn’t been able to watch it because of work and there was so many new episodes. You got up and gathered your supplies. A new body wash and scrub set, your shaving supplies, a scalp massager, and anything else you needed in the shower. This would be an everything shower, and it was gonna be perfect.

You set up your speaker and stepped into the shower, shuffling your everyday playlist. You took your time, the water falling at just the right pressure, the soap feeling perfectly smooth on your body, no missed hairs when shaving, and little to no fall out when washing your hair ((girl I’m practically shedding in the shower with how much hair falls out, I wish 🙏)).

On the other end, Miguel was concerned, annoyed, confusion, everything under the sun. You hadn’t gone on any mission, weren’t seen in headquarters, and you weren’t picking up any calls. You were one of his best spiders, his most cherished one, and very rarely did you listen to him and take off, so where could you be?

So he took it upon himself to find you. There was no reason to send a man hunt, not unless you were in danger of course. That thought stayed in the back of his but god was he frustrated. It’s apart of his daily routine to see you and you messed it up now doing who knows what.

As he set a portal to your home he sighed. Whatever was going on he’ll figure it out now. He stepped through into your living room. It was a cozy space. He noticed your candle lit in the living room. He knew you were home, you weren’t stupid enough to leave a candle unattended. As the portal closed and he could hear properly, music played from your bedroom hallway. His steps were quick, his worry subsided but now he was curious, what were you doing. As he peeked his head around the corner, there you were, bathrobe and hair wrapped in a towel, singing your favorite song while picking out what lotion to use. Not only did you look beautiful but you smelled amazing too. A small smile graced his face as he leaned on the door frame. You had those moments were you were unaware, stuck in your own world, enjoying your own things.

You realized he was there when his hands gently wrapped around your waist. He gently pulled you closer to him, head resting on your shoulder. He let out a big sigh after taking a breath of you. He was obsessed, totally and utterly in love. Your hand found its way into his hair, combing through it while appreciating his embrace.

“You didn’t want to work today?”

“Miguel…. Stay here with me.” He didn’t say anything. He made his way over to the bed as you threw one of his big shirts on, something that was always left in your home. You took your hair out of the towel, making your way to the bed before melting into Miguel’s arms. Yeah, today was a good rest day.

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Hello Everybody! I hope you all enjoyed this and thank you for the request! I can imagine his face and it’s so scrumptious! I hope you all have a blessed day 💕

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starsofjewels · 4 months

Text

The Yellow Wedding

(Gregor Clegane x Bride! Reader)

Yes, I know, and I pinky promise I'm ashamed that I'm a Greggie C simp. Yes, I know, he's like the only GOT character who is completely morally unforgiveable. Yes, I know, I have a problem, blame it on the lack of stability idfk.

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A/N: This pookie has been in my drafts since before I made this account, so it's kind of my baby. If you think Gregor Clegane is bad, just wait and see what else I have in store for y'all. Gods bless.

This is the beginning of a series I like to call- Who the f*ck is writing for that character? I did promise questionable- You get questionable.

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CONTENT: Canon compliant! Arranged/ forced marriage, language, non descriptive! Sex/ nudity, alcohol use/ drunkenness

(Is Greggie C his own content warning? Probably.)

Word count: 3.3k

It is not a match you would ever make for yourself. You would spend no time begging your father for such a marriage or pleading with your mother to make your father consent. No, this was your father’s decision alone. You do not know what Tywin Lannister has promised your father, but you assume something great; more men to fish the rivers or more materials to make the small Riverlands village your father controls less sparse. No matter what it is, he is convinced it is worth the price, and so you will marry Gregor Clegane, the Mountain.

Although you have spent your childhood in the Riverlands, you have heard of the monstrous man. Beastly tall, and stronger than any man alive. Even you, with your quiet, humble education are well-versed in his ferocity, of the sheer terror he inflicts upon even the strongest of men. Although you were no older than three or four at the time of Robert Baratheon’s rebellion, you know full well what the Mountain did to Rhaegar’s bride and their children; and the horses he can behead with a single swing of his great sword. And it makes you sick to believe that you will wed such a monster.

Crying to your father does nothing, nor does wailing endlessly to your mother, or the septa whose focus is now on your sisters. You are a low noble, your father tells you, it is better than you deserve and more than you will ever get again. Your mother cannot speak to you, she sobs when she tries, and you know there are things not even your mother can tell you.

Your sisters squeal with excitement at the idea of travelling from the Riverlands, and you realise that although you have gone as far as Highgarden, your sisters have barely seen Acorn Hall. You do not ride with them, no, Lord Tywin provides you and your father with a separate carriage, decorated beautifully and accompanied by grey horses. Your father promises he will let you keep one after you are married, and even as a grown maiden, the thought of another horse excites you.

You realise unreasonably quickly that this wedding is a Lannister wedding. Although you are not marrying into the house of lions, the entire event is tainted with their presence. You will be married in Lannisport, in a dress paid for by Tywin Lannister and designed by his tailors. The food and the wine from his contacts, and the guests Lannister supporters. Your father is impressed, he tells you what is gold, and what is silver, and how lucky you are to be such a finely kept bride.

“Lannisport is beautiful this time of year,” Your father takes your hand in his as you begin to ride, as though that helps you, “You will enjoy it, I think- The sea air may calm you…”

You nod, uninterested, as you begin to move further away from your home. He sighs,

“You may not be pleased with this arrangement, Daughter, but Lord Tywin has given you a better wedding than any girl could wish for. The Mountain may not be a kind husband or a good husband, but you will be safe.”

“If he doesn’t eat me first…”

Your father hears you, despite how lowly you mumble. He looks at you, displeased, and says nothing.

The ride to Lannisport takes several days. Each time you stop your sisters marvel over something new, so easily impressed that a fallen tree sparks hours of conversation. They spend all of their time “helping” the stableboys with the horses and chasing after innkeepers’ cats. Part of you wishes you were young enough to join them, to run along with them and hide from the cooks, sneaking sweets from the kitchen.

Instead, you are sat down with your mother and your septa. The latter very gently explains what will happen to you when you are joined with Clegane in the eyes of the Gods when you become man and wife and things are suddenly expected of you; and you realise it is nothing you didn’t already know from listening to your father’s guards, or from far too much time with only yourself for company. It will hurt, she tells you, it always hurts; he will not be gentle, he will not care for you afterwards, and you wonder how a celibate sister would know such things.

The rush of Lannisport is not like anywhere else you have been on your travels; it is busier, much busier. You know from your studies there are hundreds of thousands of inhabitants in this city, and you wonder if all of them have come out to meet with you. They haven’t, of course, aside from a few young children who stare at the gold and silver carriages, and the servants employed to assist your family. Anyone around you is far too busy with their own life to care at all about what you do.

Your sisters are taken off to see the sights the city beholds, the high walls, the ports, and the beaches, utterly distracted by lights and sand. You, as always, are not as lucky. The septa dresses you in a fine yellow dress, in such a shade you immediately recognise it as Clegane colours. She fixes your hair with thin, silver ribbons which suit your hair nearly perfectly, and leads you along the bright halls of your apartments.

You have no time to awe at the Lannisters’ exuberant wealth - You see the gold-lined portraits your father could never afford, the jewels left in glass bowls with no fear anyone may steal them. No, you are brought swiftly, and with no fuss, across the halls, until you reach what you assume to be a sitting room. She leaves you at the door, slamming it shut before you can register you have been thrown in.

The room is darker, the curtains are pulled, creating a dusky light which draws only unease from you. Wine is laid out for you, and a selection of fruit, and other trinkets you cannot make out in the dim light.

The creature at the other end of the room stirs, and you yelp. You expect it to be Gregor Clegane, and your hands reach for the doorknob, only to find it locked. The man stands, and he is far taller than you could imagine. Taller than any man in the Seven Kingdoms, or anywhere else, you think. He grumbles and moves closer to you with slow, deliberate movements, taunting you.

Once you see the scars poorly hidden by his thick, long hair, however, you realise it is, in fact, not your prospective husband. But his brother; the Hound, Sandor.

You have heard every rumour about the Hound. Savagery matched only by his brother, a rage fuelled by a young Gregor plunging his brother’s face into a fire, over nothing more than a wooden knight, no matter what their father told those around them. He fears nothing: not Gods, not kings or the lions they surround themselves with. And soon, he will be your brother-by-law

He laughs. Deep, and rumbling, and you know he is laughing at you. The Hound takes a cup of wine for himself, drinking it entirely with one sip. He eyes you up, and down.

“You are… my betrothed’s brother?”

You try to sound like a proper lady. The Hound laughs in your face.

“Your betrothed?” He mocks, setting the empty cup down and marching towards you. You see the burns on his face - Ugly, pink things, still not healed after endless years and more ointments than you could imagine. “This isn’t a fairytale, little lady. I’d be surprised if you survived the wedding night.”

“I-”

He does not let you speak,

“If his hands don’t kill you, girl, his cock will.”

Your eyes go wide as he utters the word - Something you’ve only heard out of drunken peasants, and not knights. He notices immediately.

“He’ll say far worse than cock, petal. I don’t know why Tywin Lannister is making you marry my brother, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He sighs, sitting himself back down,

“The only reason I’m here is to make sure you make it to the bed- It’d look bad on the family if he killed you before then - As if we could be worse.”

There is nothing you can say to make the situation better or, for that matter, any worse. Sandor looks at you properly, and he realises how young you are.

“How old are you, girl?”

“I’m… nine and ten, Ser.”

He softens, somewhat. His scars seem less frightening when his face is not a scowl.

“Young-” He says, quietly, “young, little thing. By the Gods, his last ones have all been older.” His voice drops, but you hear him. “He might spare you…”

He fills the brief silence that follows.

“You’ve never had a man, have you?”

“No, Ser.”

“Ser. I am no Ser, lamb.”

You stare up at him, almost confused. You were certain he was a knight- Any king would jump at their chance to knight a man like Sandor.

“I refused. Ever since Rhaegar Targaryen knighted your betrothed. If a brute like the Mountain can be made a knight, I refuse.”

“That… I suppose that… makes sense.”

He sighs, reaching out to you and taking your hand, gently.

“If you do what he says, you might be fine. Don’t anger him, petal. Don’t ever anger him. Not even the Gods will save you.”

With that, he leaves you alone in the dim sitting room, until the septa returns and helps you back to your chambers. She asks basic questions, which sound as though she’s written them in advance.

For the next three days, you are primped and prepared like a fine ham, rather than a beautiful bride. Women engulf you nearly every moment of the day, bathing you in hot water filled with roses, scrubbing you raw.

You are taught the wedding procession, how the septon will join you together under the Seven, and what will be expected of you in the early stages of your marriage.

Upon the morning of your wedding, you are awoken to find your wedding dress already waiting for you; white and delicate, an apparent symbolism of your purity. Despite never having bedded a man, you wonder how pure you truly are. Of course, you look like the freshest, whitest snow in comparison to Gregor.

Once you are dressed, and the ladies have swooned over how beautiful you look, you sit with the septa, awaiting the Mountain’s guests to complete their prayers, so you may be brought in.

There are private prayers for you, the septa blesses you and prays for a hopeful marriage. She sits with you and offers you wine.

“Do you truly think this marriage is a good match?”

She sighs, taking a place beside you.

“Gregor Clegane is indeed a dangerous man, but all men can be tempted by the kisses of their lover, and enough delicate touches.”

Your eyes widen and you look at her, shocked. She smiles at you.

“Do you really think I wouldn't know of the ways of men, sweet girl? They are all the same, these brutish, knight types.”

For a moment, the septa becomes almost like a best friend, she laughs with you in a way you have never seen before.

“If I am still alive when you have daughters,” she says, “I shall serve them. And I shall pray every night they are as wonderful as you, sweet one.” She looks at you, “write me. Tell me you are safe, yes?”

“Yes. I promise you.”

Your father calls for you shortly after, you see his eyes widen as you emerge from your bedroom in that fine, white dress. You are walked rather unceremoniously to the castle’s great hall. There are decorations everywhere, flowers of white and yellow, blue and red. A true, rather fantastical, combination of your house being joined with the Cleganes and the Lannisters overseeing your union.

Your septa waits for you by the doors and sets a crown of flowers upon your head; a bronze headdress, with flowers twisted into the metal. A small, inconsequential tradition of your house. An attempt to make you feel as though you haven't been entirely abandoned by them.

As you walk to the aisle, you recognise almost none of the guests. You see Sandor first, sitting right at the back of the hall. You can tell he is already drunk, and he refuses to look at you.

Although you are not married in a sept, you are still joined by a holy man- You assume the septon is someone of reasonable importance within Lannisport, whose loyalty to the house of lions overpowers his devotion to the faith. Or, perhaps more likely, this septon has refused to marry a monster such as your groom in a place of worship.

You see the Mountain from a distance and, somehow, this man is far, far taller than his brother. You would expect such a man to be wed in his chain mail, or the heavy black armour you have heard so much about. Instead, he wears a tunic in such a yellow you immediately recognise it as Clegane colours, even from a distance. Although this is your first meeting, you notice how out of place he looks without his armour.

The wedding procession is long and quite boring, and you understand why your sisters have each been given a new doll to entertain themselves with. They smile and wave and giggle as you eventually pass them, delighted to see you dress so wonderfully. Your mother shushes them, her eyes so red you can tell she has spent hours sobbing over this marriage.

The Mountain reaches out for you, and your hands grasp his own large paws, enclosed in black leather gloves. He makes no effort to speak to you, or smile at you, or do anything to comfort your terrified self, but you see him look you up and down and smile with desire. At least he is pleased with you.

His cloak is far heavier than you would expect it to be. Thick, black fur, which weighs you down to the point you are unsure how you can stand properly. It must be bear, you think, or something equally ferocious. He lets you take his arm to support yourself, as he pledges to protect you; and you wonder how long said protection will last.

One of those large, gloved hands takes your chin, lifting your face up to look at him. His hand is the size of your head, perhaps bigger. The Mountain is so large, he grasps you by the waist and pulls you up to reach his head. He carries you like you are nothing, cradling you with the same ease one would a cushion.

You are announced as man, and as wife, and he kisses you with the ferocity expected of such a man. It is not loving nor fond, but it is certainly passionate. He refuses to let you go, holding you tightly and walking with you, like a child.

The celebration is far greater than anything you could imagine. The Lannister dignity and refinement thrown violently aside for drink and dance. You are placed at the head of the feast table, beside your monstrous husband. You watch him eat, and drink enough to kill any lesser man. You cannot eat, despite the cakes and pastries, and all of the things you would gladly finish off on any other occasion.

You look at Gregor, and you sip your wine graciously, fearful of spilling something down yourself.

He catches your glance, and looks down at your barely touched plate. You anticipate anything but your husband lifting your spoon, and putting it to your mouth like a baby. Half out of fear, and half out of curiosity, you accept the spoonful of broth. It is too hot and not particularly flavoursome, not that you complain. Gregor smiles, looking you up and down once again, and he speaks. For the first time.

“You’re pretty.”

“Is that… good?”

He thinks for a moment,

“Aye, it’s good. You’ll make me good sons with those hips.”

You grow hot with embarrassment, unable to do anything but giggle slightly. He leans into you, out of your father’s earshot.

“Are you as delicious as you look, little thing?”

“I- Don’t know, my lord.”

He moves your hair to kiss the side of your neck. You can see this action garnering the attention of those around you,

“Mh, well- Just you wait, then, and we shall see.”

The rest of the evening is almost a blur, as you take more and more wine and honey mead. By nightfall you are flush with borderline drunkenness, and your equally-drunk husband could be a prince charming, for all you care.

He lifts you up to dance with you, too large for any form of regular dance. Your first dance as a couple is a spectacle to behold; and you cannot stop laughing the entire time. You cup his face in your hands, and you kiss him as though you do, truly love him, but you assume it is merely the alcohol in your system.

You mean to thank Lord Tywin, or whomever he has sent to oversee the wedding, or to visit your young sisters, brought out of the way of the wedding feast. There is not enough time, or sobriety, for you to do either. You are instead lifted from your chair and hauled off to Gregor’s chambers, for your new duties as his wife.

By the time he is finished with you, you can barely remember your own name. You do recall your septa’s warning of a man’s cruelty once his desires are fulfilled, and expect the worst.

Your husband rises from you, almost completely naked, and for a moment you think he will return to the festivities without his tunic. Gregor, however, returns to you with a cup of wine. You can barely drink it, giggling drunkenly as near half the wine dribbles down your bare chest.

Although you clean yourself, he holds you steady.

You spend the rest of the night in his bed, listening to the celebrations below eventually die down, as more guests retire. You sit up in thought, and he looks at you.

“No bedding ceremony?”

He snorts, pulling you closer.

“No. No other man gets to see-” His hands travel down your body, resting on your hips, “this.”

You groan, shivering despite the fire.

“Are you pleased, then?”

“Aye, aye. Pleased. I’ll be more pleased once you give me my sons.”

You whack his shoulder lightly. He does not even feel it, of course.

“Can we not enjoy our wedding night first?”

“Gods, you talk like a rich little cunt, woman.”

You splutter with laughter and he kisses your neck again, biting down on your shoulder just gently enough that it does not hurt.

“We can enjoy ourselves whilst you give me a son, love. That’s the fun of it.”

You sigh, resting a head on his bare shoulder.

“That was… quite fun…”

“Aye, it was.”

Eventually you shuffle down the bed, realising just how large it really was, to facilitate your husband’s massive form. It is warm, even if the sheets stick to your skin.

His arms wrap around you, and before you know it he is asleep, tucked into your shoulder. Gregor’s peacefulness seems odd, compared to the beastly Mountain you have heard stories of, and you wonder if he will, truly, treat you well.

You watch the fire for some time, until you too fall asleep.

The festivities continue for a day and one more night, until the feast is truly over and you set off for your husband’s keep.

You give the older of your sisters your crown of flowers and wave with the same enthusiasm they did on your wedding day as Gregor hands you his stallion’s bridle and wraps his arms around your hips. You leave Lannisport as the lady of the Mountain, and you wonder how he can be so pleasant to you, but so fearful on the battlefield.

Not that you particularly care, not when you seem to have tamed the Mountain who Rides.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #gregor clegane #gregor clegane x reader #game of thrones x y/n #got x y/n #got x you #house clegane

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violettaskies · 2 years

Text

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

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dirtypr0mises · 1 month

Note

HII!!

So, look, I've been trying to find some sub!Billie x reader smut, but I can't find any 😭😭.

Can you please do one where reader is a music producer and is working with Billie on a song?

Billie wants to add moans to the background of the song, but everything she tries to fake it, it doesn't sound realistic, so the reader makes it realistic... 😏

Ty!!!

-🍽🩷

yapyap; so u might have to bare with me because idk how music producing works besides layla from all american, so uhm yea, but this is the smartest thing in the history of smart things like!! i lowkey dk how im gonna end it either so omg just bare with me. this is really embarrassing but i was in the middle of writing this and then i looked back up and realized it was sub!billie. so i had to rewrite but it was rotting because i didn’t feel like it

PRODUCER GIRL — b. eilish

billie eilish x sub!reader

—

you sat back in the chair, on the other side of the glass billie had been recording a song. but then she had an idea you could only listen to, you thought it was a good idea.

“so, i wanted add moaning to the background of a few verses” she said a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck.

your eyes had widened at first, but you though about it for a second and realized it was actually a pretty good idea. you agreed and you two had gone through a couple presets, but she shook her head to all of them.

she looked confused and felt bad, but an idea had popped up in your head. you always thought she was attractive and she needs some realistic sounds.

you got up, walking up to her as she slowly looked up at you. you put your finger under her chin, making sure her chin stayed up. your kiss had met hers and her hands landed on your waist.

—

you were now on the couch, a make out session in play and her clothes slowly being taken off and scattered across the studio. you on her lap as she sat on the couch, but the moans weren’t gonna come from you, oh no, you had far better plans

you tugged at her underwear, looking at her as you parted lips to make sure it was okay. you got up as she took them off, and you smiled. you had gotten on your knees right infront of her.

her legs were up on the couch, and you looked at her once more before going down.

you didn’t even try to tease it, you just wanted her to feel good and for there to be a good preset for the song.

soon enough her moans died down, but that couldn’t happen. so you plunged two fingers into her which had put the moans back in motion.

“louder for me” you spoke, still eating her out. the vibrations had made them grow louder, and she had complied, her moans growing louder with each passing second.

“f-fuck y/n” billie moaned out, in which you smirked. when her moans got the loudest you knew she was just about on a high.

you curled your fingers, making her fingers dig into the couch. her hand in your hair messily. you finished through her high, kissing up her body and back up to her, kissing her and smiling. you said ‘thank you’ as yall parted. going and pausing the recording.

you had played it back, and she smiled widely,

“that sounds so perfect”

you smiled as you played the beginning. which was her saying your name in the middle of her moaning for a ‘producer tag’ type deal

she laughed, “wait that’s so great, kinda crazy but great”

if this is horrible lmk (pls don’t that’s actually so embarrassing for me if it is)

#billie #billie eilish #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #caelynn #eilish #fanfic #wlw #lesbian #girls

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

Note

how are things going with rabies! verse? jason still horny?

"I think it may be best if I leave," you tell Bruce sitting across from him.

"Why?"

"Well. It's clear that whatever is making Jason attracted to me isn't going to stop. And- maybe some time and distance will dull it a little."

Bruce nodded, frowning, "This is your home. I don't want you to feel like-"

"I don't plan on staying gone. I just think it might help."

He looked across the table and in his mind's eye, he could see the scruffy, half-feral little welp he'd brought home years ago. You'd been tossed out on the street and left to fend for yourself. Living on what you could steal and handfuls of change and dropped bills. So thin you were gaunt. And so angry because you were starving- unable to feed the new metabolism. He didn't know what to do with you. Not a meta but not just a human. The only thing he did know was that you were hungry. So he just kept bringing you meals until you would trust him.

And now you were leaving.

For good reason, but still. He didn't like it. There were packs out there. And lone wolves. Hell. It was a lone wolf who attacked you as a little girl. It was bad enough when they popped up IN Gotham.

"Where will you go?"

You shrug and give him a mischievous smile, "Might go hunting. Jaques is still out there somewhere."

"Y/N-"

"Or I guess I could just go hang out on a beach somewhere."

"That sounds like a much better plan."

"You're no fun, Bruce."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #rabies!verse

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yenqa · 2 years

Text

SHE PLAYS BASS!

synopsis : prince sunghoon had a boring life. never had he ever gone out with his friends or fallen in love like a normal teenager (not like he liked the idea of falling in love). instead, he was forced to prepare for when he would be crowned king. but when your band, le sserafim is invited to play at the royal palace. his perspective on love would change all because of you.

featuring : le sserafim, hyung line of enhypen and a mention of jungwon

warnings : swearing, angst, parents w broken relationships, crying, kissing, reader wears makeup for performance, sunghoon is REALLY bad at conversations, will update as writing!

wc : 8.4k (woww!)

pairing : prince!sunghoon x afab!reader

a/n : it’s out!! sorry for the wait everyone and its a little weird but i hope you enjoy! thank u sm to @redm4ri for reading over it and making sure everything is good 🫶 also if you find anything we both missed… suck it up and ignore it

taglist : @chaechae-23 @ssjxmh @favorjtecrime @ineedsomezzz @aki1e @chaewon-slays @blu3ming-hoon @sd211 @foxsunoo @yunjinluvrr @homelycat @222brainrot @shinrjj @harufluff @viyqe @yoonsaves @sweetjaemss @jiawji

perm taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni

01 NO CELESTIAL WAS ALWAYS YOUR FAVORITE SONG TO PERFORM.

you enjoyed playing the guitar riffs and singing until your lungs went out. you enjoyed the small portion of choreography you had and the energy it brought to the crowd. but as much as you enjoyed the melody itself, you enjoyed the lyrics even more.

to you, no celestial was about breaking the standards and just being yourself (ex. lyrics “angel-like perfection, bye” in first verse). but the song also meant that you can’t be perfect, and to not be afraid when someone realizes that. no celestial gave you a sense of freedom, like nothing else mattered but the sounds of your voices. and you would do anything to have that freedom.

well, it was the kind of freedom you already had until the attention’s eye was on you. now, you couldn’t even meet up with an old friend before someone turned it into a dating rumor. it was hard to ignore those rumors and continue on, but that was what you had to do to make it far.

and, you weren’t sure if it was worth it until now. staring in shock as you open the intricate blue envelope decorated with gold lining. on the back, is text stating “The Royal Palace”. Yunjin squeals in excitement as you carefully pull out the paper, reading the contents hidden inside.

Dear, Source Music

It has come to our attention that your band, Le Sserafim has been spiking in popularity in our kingdom. As the Prince’s birthday is coming soon, we would like to formally invite Le Sserafim to perform at the Royal Palace on December 8th to entertain our guests. Please arrive at 3:30 pm or before as you’ll be performing at 4:15. All food and drinks will be provided for you, outfits will also be provided and we’ll have to schedule an appointment to get some measurements. Please tell us what kind of concept to go for, and we’ll do our best to achieve that. We trust that the band will perform well as always. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Yang Jungwon

you look at your members in disbelief as they do the same before kazuha breaks the silence.

“we’re going to perform at the royal palace!” she excitedly squeals, as the room explodes into excited laughter, deciding what songs will be performed.

“well we have to perform fearless! it’s our hit song,” yunjin begs, trying to get nods of approval from the group's leader.

chaewon sighs, looking back at yunjin, “we’ll have to see how many songs we can perform and if they want us to perform any particular ones. we can ask our boss at our next meeting. he’ll probably have all the details we need,” she smiles warmly at her members, stretching out her arms and engulfing them in a warm hug.

“wait- when’s our next meeting?”

🎸

no celestial was not on the setlist. nor did your boss even think about performing it.

as the stubborn girl you are, you immediately asked why no celestial wasn’t on the list, and your boss laughs at you. stating that the palace didn’t choose the song and it wasn’t the right place for it. you thought that the song would be able to be performed anywhere (except, maybe a funeral but that’s not the point) but it apparently went against palace rules. it was stupid to you, isn’t that what the song’s telling you not to do? follow the rules?

you were surprised the great mermaid was picked, considering the amount of ‘foul language’ in the song. but since the prince was turning 21 (or 20 you couldn’t remember) you were sure a swear word wouldn’t hurt him.

it wasn’t until late at night when it hit you, you were performing for the prince in a month.

02 SUNGHOON WAS NOT EXCITED ABOUT HIS BIRTHDAY

all the decorations, outfits, and people were too much for him.

yes, he loved having the party, but having every single person he’s had any interaction with invited? just seemed over the top. he wished only his closest friends to come, but every year his parents would try so hard to marry him off to some random girl his age, which always ruined his mood (and his plan to have a small birthday party). sunghoon knew this year wouldn’t be different, so he didn’t look forward to it, simple as that.

when his parents revealed they were inviting a band to perform on his birthday. his lips had slightly upturned. would it be tomorrow by together? or seventeen? maybe even red velvet? his face immediately dropped when he heard the name. who the hell was le sserafim?

after he was dismissed sunghoon immediately looked up the band that was recently introduced to him, playing the first few songs that popped up.

out of the seven songs he listened to, he liked the song “sour grapes” the most. sunghoon didn’t look much into the lyrics of songs, as a song was just a melody he sang along to. but the rare times sunghoon did (which was when he was listening to sour grapes), he didn’t understand most of the lines. what did they mean by love is sour grapes? because to him, he didn’t think love resembled any kind of fruit.

well, what did love resemble to him? sunghoon didn’t know. after seeing his parents grow apart over the years, sunghoon wasn’t one to ask about the subject. and nor did he ever want to be.

the small number of lyrics he understood, made it even more obvious why love wasn’t that appealing to him. it would always end in heartbreak, which is why he vowed to himself to never fall in love. but deep down, he knew it was something he could never admit.

he was scared.

03 BREAKS WERE YOUR FAVORITE PART ABOUT PRACTICE

after practicing for three hours straight, chaewon decided for an hour's break. of course, no one disagreed which left you immediately leaving the building and deciding to walk around the kingdom.

the town was always a safe place for you to walk around since the palace is near your building and heavily guarded. after getting drinks for yourself and your members, you decided to head back to the practice building.

as you walked around you always stopped to watch some young kids playing outside, enjoying the laughter and happiness they brought to voice. you smile at their enjoyment, amused at the stupid games they make up.

you try to push your body away, as your head wants to keep watching. until you bump into someone, making you drop the drinks you had previously bought for your members.

“oh my god i’m so sorry! did it spill on you?” you frantically ask, crouching on the floor to pick up the wet cups on the ground.

you stand up to see a man around your age, his fluffy brown hair slightly covering his eyes and clothes too formal for a walk around the town. his face seems too familiar, almost like you’ve seen him before.

“it’s fine, sorry about your drinks, can i get you new ones?” he offers, a slight rasp evident in his voice.

“oh no, it’s okay! but do i know you? you look really familiar,” you ask curiously.

his state quickly turns to panic, before answering “n-no i don’t think so.” he curses himself for being so nervous.

“oops! sorry then, well my name’s y/n nice to meet you!” you offer him a hand, which he shakes.

“my name’s sunghoon nice to meet you too.” shit did i just say sunghoon? he realizes, horrified at his clumsiness.

“oh like prince sunghoon?” you mention, flashing him a bright smile.

“yeah haha…” he awkwardly replies, helping you throw away the dripping drinks in your hand. “are you sure? i’m sorry i feel really bad,” he rambles, looking at you with concern.

you swiftly pull out your phone to check the time, realizing you wouldn’t make it back in time if you went back to get drinks. you smile at him, showing him the time on your phone, “i have to be back soon! but maybe if we ever meet again you can pay me back,” you smile, and he smiles back before you run off, waving to him.

fimmies chat

you

lawl i just met the cutest guy !!

sakura

are u forgetting ure semi famous…

eunchae

did u rizz him up

yunjin

do u think y/n rizzed him up

be honest

you

no i didnt forget!! and i did rizz him up so good

yunjin dye.

anyways i didn’t get his number </3

kazuha

did u get his number

chaewon

youre so lucky he didnt recognize u

but come back soon breaks almost over

you

im omw

04 HIS BIRTHDAY CAME SOONER THAN YOU REALIZED

you were too nervous about playing for the palace, you played your bass thousands of times in front of a crowd, you think, doing whatever to calm yourself. you had known all the chords by heart (including no celestial which your band decided to sneak in), you had warmed up your voice, and you had memorized and practiced the dance for hours and hours. you were going to do fine.

when you guys stepped onto the stage all that was heard were claps and a couple of cheers, you quickly made eye contact with the queen giving her a small head nod. you step in a line to bow and introduce yourselves, before getting to your instrument.

the first song you were performing was “the great mermaid”, sakura tapped her drumsticks three times, signaling for you to start the song. your hands instinctively moved to the right chords, strumming accordingly. as each chord passed, more was to be played. your hands shakily played each one, trying to sing your parts as stable as you could.

you felt a sigh of relief when the song ended, you placed your guitar on your hips, resting your hands while listening to the audience's boring claps. no shouts or cheers, just repeating claps, prim and proper. as chaewon introduces your next song you scan the audience, locking eyes with the young man on the throne, wait-

was that sunghoon?

your eyes widen as you hurry to your position in the dance, waiting for the music to start.

was sunghoon the prince? why didn’t he have a disguise? or some kind of security? did i seriously meet the prince on accident and didn’t notice?

you quickly came back to life, focusing on the dance you were currently doing.

your hips had to be on point, your legs had to be fully extended and in place, your arms had to be in the exact place, and your facial expression had to be on point. you hoped your expression looked how you imagined it.

you glanced at your manager noticing his approving, almost proud smile. you almost smile in response, containing it in quickly moving into formation.

the next few songs were a blur until you got to no celestial.

you nervously spoke into your microphone, introducing the song.

“for our last song we are performing a song called “no celestial”! this song is similar to our first one “the great mermaid” so if you enjoyed that song, you might like this one.” you wink at the audience, as you notice the manager giving you a look of disbelief.

you ignore it. adjusting your bass, starting up the next song. once you got to the pre-chorus you could feel your manager's glare burning in your scalp, you glance at sakura, exchanging nervous glances as yunjin sings her heart out, without a care in the world. by the time the song ends, you’re exhausted, and your legs and arms feel overworked,

you say your goodbyes and bow to the crowd as you walk off into the dressing room, where your manager waits with a menacing stare.

“hi sir…” you hesitantly start, he raises his left eyebrow at you.

“who came up with the idea of playing no celestial? the queen was giving me dirty looks! you’re lucky i’m not getting thrown in jail tomorrow. did you come up with the idea of playing no celestial for the palace y/n?” he yells, fuming with anger.

you look down at your feet, as your members watch, unable to prevent anything.

“yes i did.” you quietly answer.

“what’d you say? god you need to speak louder y/n,” he bluntly scolds.

“i said, yes i did,” you speak menacingly, he looks taken aback, almost surprised.

“this is your last warning y/n, one more and you’re out of the band, okay? i’m sick and tired of you taking your position for granted.”

“yes sir.” you bitterly answer, your body twitching trying to hold in your tears.

“now go! i can’t look at you right now,” he sighs.

you take your chance to quickly walk out of the dressing room, avoiding any servants walking around (and your members if they followed you). you slowly push open a door and find yourself on a path, surrounded by flowers and bushes tailored by the most perfectionist workers. each step there seem to be more and more plants unknown to you. you stop to look at a certain flower, reading the name on the index.

“the alstroemeria caught your eye?”

you jump at the sound, turning around to see (prince) sunghoon, walking next to you with a grin. you quickly bow, wiping your tears “oh! i’m so sorry for being here, i don’t know if i’m allowed here, so i’ll go!” you ramble, his smirk growing at the sight of you.

“it’s okay, y/n right? you did really well today,” he looks you up and down, slightly biting his lip.

“thank you, sir! happy birthday to you too.”

“no need for formal names, sunghoon is fine.”

your eyebrows furrow at his words, tilting your head slightly, “are you sure? it’s really no bother.”

he smirks at your comment, “you seemed fine with it two weeks ago,”

your eyes widen as his grin switches to a sly smirk, “i just didn’t recognize you,” you argue. “you don’t recognize the prince?” he raises one eyebrow. you huff at his response, opting to change the subject instead.

“shall we walk?” you ask, referring to the path you were earlier following. he nods as he starts leading the way through the abnormally large garden, making sure you stay away from any ditches or rocks.

“so, how was our performance? what was your favorite song?” you ask. he doesn’t think for long before deciding.

“sour grapes.”

“no reason why?” you give him a grumpy look which he notices, so he continues. “i like the melody, and lyrics.” he bluntly states, looking back at you for approval. “did you like the last song? no celestial?” you ask, silently praying he did.

“it was good, but i prefer slower songs.”

you nod accordingly, noticing how the loud ballroom music fills your silence, quite different from the songs you had performed. you walk to an empty field, which sunghoon explains that it’s empty because his parents gave up on the garden, deciding to do something better with their time and money. you frown at his story, why give up halfway in?

your legs grow tired, so you ultimately declare a break, in the middle of the field. sunghoon agrees, teasing you for your tired state.

when you sit down comfortable silence overtakes you two. you both calmly listen to the classical music, still clearly heard from the castle. after a few minutes, sunghoon light’s up with an idea, quickly standing up and offering his hand to you.

you, confused, look up at him. “what? are you trying to shake my hand?”

he laughs, “no, but would you, lady y/n have a dance with me?”

you grow flustered by the idea. you’re about to take his hand, before realizing you aren’t sure how to ballroom dance. you shyly mutter, “i don’t know how to properly do it”. he chuckles softly, taking hold of your hand, and pulling you up.

“i’ll teach you.”

sunghoon wasn’t sure why he was feeling so tense when he’d started teaching you. he’d be crazy to think that he wasn’t flustered by the way your hand was on his shoulder and the other intertwined with his, or the fact that you broke out into a smile every time you’d accidentally step on his foot or miss the spin. you were just pretty, he told himself, praying his hands didn’t feel clammy.

his hands were soft, and smooth contrasting with your calloused, and rough hands. but he didn’t seem to mind by the way he was smiling.

soon, your bodies blend together, like the sun and moon, forming an eclipse. taking each step in sync with the other. you can’t find your eyes anywhere else but locked on his. he smiles at you, and you smile back. you two dance until your feet get sore again after several songs. too tired to sit, you lay back on the slightly wet grass, staining the back of your stage outfit. sunghoon grins, laying down next to you, admiring the stars with you.

“sunghoon, do you know any constellations?” you ask, trying to make a familiar shape out of any of them.

sunghoon extends his hand out, scooting closer so you can see. he points to a particularly bright star, then another, and another he repeats that until he puts his hand down.

“that’s the ursa major, you’ve heard of it correct?” he looks over to you.

you chuckle, “of course, i know what the ursa major is. it’s so pretty, isn’t it?”

sunghoon stares at you, your bright smile facing the sky, your happy eyes almost in disbelief you're seeing such a beautiful sight, your makeup for the performance now slightly smudged but still gorgeous on you.

sunghoon thinks you’re the most beautiful star.

his eyes don’t move away from you before responding “yeah it is.”

he diverts his eyes when he sees you looking back at him, “the ursa major is used for navigating, because it completes a full circle around the north star.”

you nod, taking in the bright stars, shining straight at you.

sunghoon notices your silence, deciding to start a new conversation.

“what’s your perspective on love?”

sunghoon quickly realizes his mistake when you choke on your saliva, clearly not expecting him to ask you that question as you sit up. his face turns pale, hurriedly patting your back. “sorry, was that too far?” he asks.

you chuckle at his reaction, your laugh filling up his silence. “no,i just wasn’t expecting it. but i’ll give you an answer.” sunghoon gives you a nod, silently telling you to keep going.

“i think my opinion changes, like when i wrote sour grapes, obviously i didn’t like it. but now i think it’s quite the opposite,” you answer, sunghoon carefully thinks about your words, nodding approvingly.

“what about you sunghoon? what do you think about love?”

he stays silent for a while before answering, “i don’t believe in true love, i think it’s made up,” he states bluntly.

you slightly tilt your head, “and why do you think that?”

“well because my parents they’re-”

you’re caught off guard when the sounds of panicked yelling come to voice. “prince sunghoon? prince sunghoon!” people frantically call, you can see the silhouettes of people running around, trying to spot their beloved prince. you look over to see a just as panicked sunghoon. he quickly stands up, pulling you up too. his expression turns almost disappointed before saying,

“i have to go. it was nice talking to you y/n, i hope we meet again.” he gives you a small smile. taking your hand, and placing a soft kiss on it. he looks into your eyes after, then runs to the voices. leaving you a flustered mess.

walking back to the dressing room happily excited to tell your members about the interaction you just had, you realize why you had even been out in the garden. because you were upset, but sunghoon distracted you from that.

you smile to yourself, sunghoon was quite the distractor.

05 MEETINGS WITH SUNGHOON BECAME ORDINARY

you often found him around the place you first met, waiting in the only pink chair at the cafe. every time the bell above the door rang, his head shot up looking for your familiar face. every time it was you, his eyes crinkled, which you guessed was a smile considering his face was hidden behind a mask. you would always wave to him, setting down your stuff before ordering a drink. this became a routine for you two, you would arrive at two ten and leave at two fifty, to get back to practice on time.

after practice you (and sometimes with eunchae) would always walk to a specific bench near the river, admiring the dark city with the quiet noises of running water. arriving at eight twenty-ish every time, you would place your purse down right in the middle of the bench, so no one would sit next to you.

that may seem selfish, but it was for your safety as an idol. the park was almost always empty, with the exception of people there for the same reason as you, to admire the scenery.

you were almost dumbfounded when you noticed someone sitting at your bench, the body covered by their hood twitching every so often.

your steps slowed down, unsure of what to do. until you heard small sniffles from the body, with broken cries and sounds of snot. you weren’t the most social person you’ve met, so you don’t know why your body led you down to sit next to them, asking them “are you okay?”

the person doesn’t spare a glance at you, staring directly at their shoes instead. you study their face, realizing the person was someone you knew.

“sunghoon? what’s wrong?” you blurt out, his head whips towards yours, his panicked expression clearly gone when he looks at you with soft eyes.

he quickly remembers his state, wiping his tears as quickly as he can. “nothing,” he mumbles, knowing you’ll recognize his blatant lie.

you hesitantly place your hand on his back, softly rubbing it. he lays into you, sobs coming out of his body like a river, coming downstream. your throat tightens hearing the cries that fill the park, disturbing the few that passed by every so often.

noticing his hiccups become less and less apparent. you hesitantly ask, “do you want to talk about it?”

he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. he chokes out, “it’s just the pressure i have on my shoulders, being the next king and all. i have no one to rely on or even ask for help. my parents are too busy fucking arguing to even give me the time of day, and it’s just so stupid they put all the kingdom’s problems on me because it’s training. when in reality it’s just them being ignorant and immature.”

you nod slightly, pulling him in a soft hug as if he’ll break if you hold any tighter. you wince at the feeling of his damp tears on your sleeve, reminding yourself that there was a more important matter.

you two hold each other in comfortable silence until sunghoon sits up and wipes his tears away. you look at him with worry to which he says, “i don’t really want to talk about it anymore if that’s ok,” he looks at you with uneasy eyes.

you give him a warm smile, “that’s fine sunghoon, do you want to talk about anything?”

“no, i don’t really have anything in mind,” he answers.

you nod trying to fill the void of silence somehow. spotting a moving figure near the waterline, you point to it, “hey there are some ducks!”

sunghoon follows your finger to find the animal you were pointing at. eyes crinkling at the sight. you watch his amused face, not realizing the smile growing on your face.

“didn’t know you were such an animal person,” you chuckle, as sunghoon rolls his eyes.

“it’s not like i see them much, ya-know being trapped in the castle and all that,” he remarks. you throw your hands up in defense, “sorry, forgot about your prince duties for a second.”

“yeah whatever,” sunghoon jokes, turning to gaze at the stars, just like at the castle.

you take this time to look at his face, looking hopefully into the sky. like he was hoping a shooting star would come. you let out a breathy smile, to which he hears turning to look at you, making eye contact.

realizing he caught your stare, you look away, your cold cheeks now growing in temperature.

sunghoon chuckles at your reaction, not realizing his reddening cheeks either. he pulls up his sleeve, glancing at his watch. you lean over, looking for the time stating 9:02.

you gasp loudly, making sunghoon whip his head up, looking at you with confusion. “what happened?” he asks.

“i have to be back by 9:15, curfew and all. i’ll see you soon, okay?” he nods, a smile present as he’s waving goodbye, watching as you take off running to get back on time.

sunghoon can’t seem to get rid of his smile after you leave, touching his upturned lips softly. he isn’t sure why his smile’s still lingering even after you left. he doesn’t smile for a while after jay or jake leaves him.

despite the chilling weather that most definitely left him shivering, he can’t get rid of the warm, fuzzy feeling inside of him. maybe he was sick, or maybe he was just prepared for the cold weather. but he knew there was a different reason. one that he wasn’t ready to admit.

06 YOU HAPPILY JOGGED BACK TO THE BUILDING

imagining your member's reactions when you tell them you had met up with sunghoon once again. you push open your dorm room at 9:12, barely making it back without getting a scolding from chaewon.

entering your shared room with eunchae, you take off your jacket, zipping it up to place it on a hanger.

“y/n! you went to the park without me!” eunchae whines from her bed, stretching out to cover it.

you laugh at her position, mentioning nonchalantly, “sorry eunchae! i saw sunghoon there though.

she dramatically gasps causing all the other members to rush in with looks of worry. “what happened?” chaewon asks, standing in the doorway.

“y/n met up with sunghoon at the park!” she exclaims. yunjin reacts first, running up to you dramatically, shaking you by your shoulders. the members exaggeratedly gasp at you, kazuha even pretends to faint.

you roll your eyes, pretending to busy yourself on your phone.

“y/n you have to tell us what happened!” chaewon hurriedly sits down on the edge of the bed, to which everyone else follows.

“nothing really happened,” you giggle, unable to stop the redness from spreading from your cheeks.

sakura pushes you softly, “oh boo, i know something happened, just tell us what!”

deciding to not mention the crying part, you mention everything else.

watching the member's reactions could honestly entertain you for days. whether it was a simple touch or action you two did together, they always had an exaggerated reaction towards it. when you mentioned how he had caught you staring at him, yunjin had dramatically fallen off the bed. hitting the carpet floor with her hand clutched repeatedly.

after you finished the story, they left as giggly as you came in. you quickly get ready to go to sleep, not wanting the exhaustion to get to you before you brush your teeth.

laying on your bed, you weren’t sure why they were so dramatic over some interactions you had with sunghoon. i mean, you were just a boy and a girl hanging out.

nothing weird about that.

okay sure, he did have really nice hair, pretty eyes, and a really gorgeous smile. and he was so sweet and funny but also comforting, and you like being around him and always wanted to be around him. but what does that have to do with-

oh.

no, it couldn’t be it, you weren’t that far in deep right?

was love what you were feeling? love for the man you had randomly met in the kingdom? love for the man you had barely met but had spent hours talking to?

yeah, maybe you did love him.

and maybe, you wanted to plant his soft lips onto yours the next time you saw him.

but he was too good for you.

like the brightest, most beautiful star in the sky, loving the dimmest, and unpleasant.

it would never work.

you sigh, pulling over the blanket over your cold body. peacefully closing your eyes.

07 CONFIDING IN SAKURA WAS ONE OF THE WORST IDEAS YOU HAD

you would think the oldest person had the best advice, but truly she was set on you doing one thing.

“confess to him!” sakura exclaims as soon as she hears the news. rolling your eyes at her idea, she lightly frowns.

“what? can’t you just tell him? i don’t get it.” she huffs, slightly lifting the hair on her face. you furrow your brows, “and risk him not liking me back?”

“okay so what if he does like you back?”

that simple question leaves you speechless, it’s not a crazy question, but as stupid as you sound, you didn’t think that would happen. nor was that a chance you would want to take.

“i don’t think he does, i mean we just met recently! he barely even knows me.” you’re shortly given a questioning look, followed by “don’t you meet like, every day?”

you sigh in defeat, “okay yeah we do, but that’s not the point! the point is that he doesn’t like me back.”

“look, he might not like you back, so why don’t you get it over with? the worst he can say is no.” her shoulders lift for a second, continuing back to focus on her phone.

“okay, no is definitely not the worst thing he could say. he could say like, “ew no you peasant! get away from me you dirty scab.” sakura dramatically sighs.

“are we talking about the same guy? the same guy who spent hours talking to you outside his own party?” you huff.

“yeah, but it’s still a possibility! you never know how royals are,” you argue. she quickly bites back, saying.

“exactly!” her eyes widened, “you don’t know how royals are, so you never know if he likes you back! which i’m sure he does.”

“okay so i confess to him, and he says no. what if our relationship changes and we can’t fix it because i made things so awkward? what would i do then?” you cry, she furrows her brows.

“you never know until you try.” she finishes, finally laying back down to go to sleep.

“fine.” you grumble, tiredly walking back to your room.

maybe you could confess to him.

you quickly throw yourself onto the bed. landing with an ‘oof’ sound on your stomach. brainstorming ideas or even just imagining scenarios. you hadn’t realized until two minutes of thinking was that everything you thought of was probably a normal occurrence for him.

picnics? you were sure he had done it many times. a restaurant? his chefs probably cook better and you’re both famous. movie date? even you didn’t want to do that idea.

giving your mind a rest, you rolled around on your bed. kicking the blanket off your sweaty feet, you grabbed your phone. opening safari.

i mean, it can’t hurt to look right? you quickly typed up the words, embarrassed at the dilemma you were in right then.

you scrolled through the websites, opening “15 best date ideas for you and your boyfriend.”

sure you weren’t at that stage, but it had to have at least one good idea.

scrolling through the options you stopped on one, thinking of what could happen then. painting together, that seems like it could be fun?

you quickly prepare yourself for the text you're about to send, staring at it for a while before actually sending it.

you

sunghoon are you busy this weekend?

sunghoon

not on saturday, but on sunday yeah.

why?

you

do you want to go painting with me 😁😁

sunghoon

sure, where?

you

yk the bench we met at like two days ago

we can meet there at 2pm ??

sunghoon

sure, see you then.

you

see youu

you slam your phone into your mattress, silently screaming to yourself imagining how the date would be. you prayed that sunghoon wasn’t some kind of artist who would laugh at the market's paint you had bought because it was such poor quality to him. sunghoon wouldn’t do that, he’s really sweet. you remember you check your calendar in the living room, writing down the date for saturday.

you scan the calendar, in three days you’ll confess.

08 YOU WEREN’T SURE YOU COULD PAINT WITH SUCH JITTERY HANDS

you had managed to get there at 1:58 seeing sunghoon there already. scanning his outfit, you found the gold details on his navy blue suit to fit him well, it was similar to the letter the palace had sent you but you didn’t want to point that out.

realizing how professional he looked, you quickly feel embarrassed at your outfit. some simple jeans with a crop top and a sweater, and a mask covering your face.

“hello y/n,” he smiles at you, helping you place your stuff down.

“hello sunghoon! here-” you hand a canvas to him, “this is for you, and you know how to paint, right?” you mentally slap yourself, of course, he knew how to paint y/n!

his eyes slightly squint in confusion as he chuckles, “of course, i know how to paint y/n, what do you wanna paint?”

you lock eyes with him, trying your best not to get flustered saying, “i don’t know yet, probably like the river in front of us. what about you?”

he looks around, suddenly smirking at the idea he must’ve had. “i’ll surprise you,”

“whatever,” you playfully roll your eyes, handing him his canvas and palette. his hands brush yours, lingering longer than they should.

you ignore it, carefully dipping the paintbrush into the water, then into a light grayish blue. you gracefully spread the paint around, trying to replicate the water to the best of your abilities. the blue slowly runs out, your paintbrush becomes dryer than your liking. so you delicately press the paintbrush into the water, swirling it around before dipping it back into the same blue color you were using.

while you’re doing that, you glance at sunghoon to see him sketching a person with a pencil. “who’s that?” you ask, he looks at you seeing you stare at his sketch.

his eyebrows furrow, “you can’t tell?”

you scan the canvas again, noticing the outfit looking very similar to yours. you squint slightly, “are you drawing me?”

he grins, “no.”

“what? that literally looks exactly like me!” you argue.

“it’s your mom.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes and turning back to your canvas, he laughs at your reaction. “i hate you so much,” you lie.

“right. you know i can get you thrown into prison right?”

“yeah you could, but you like me too much to do that.” you boldly state.

he gives you a side eye, nodding sarcastically. “whatever you want,” he says, you triumphantly continue painting, finishing the sky before starting on the river and the scenery.

you add more paint to your original color, brightening it before starting your river. making sure you get each detail.

while you’re working on your river sunghoon starts painting the background, realizing he forgot to do that.

you two continue with small talk, conversing about favorite music, events that are coming up, and even events happening recently.

you’re reminded of his birthday party, how he never finished his answer before he got pulled away by the crowd (or whoever was calling for him).

the conversation slowly dies down, sunghoon decides to start a new one before you could.

“how’s it like being an idol? like getting to do whatever you want and still be liked.”

you give him a bittersweet smile, “i don’t really get to do whatever i want, but i probably have more freedom than you do.”

sunghoon sighs, “yeah, sometimes i really hate being a prince, i wish i had more freedom like you.”

“well, i don’t have that much freedom, but i don’t really care. i just do whatever i want and hope i don’t get caught,” you chuckle, sunghoon smiles at you,

“you don’t get scared of the consequences you could get?”

“not really. if anything, i can just debut again.”

sunghoon clearly taken aback by your confidence covers it with a smirk, “are you always this confident?”

“not with you,” you blurt out, not realizing your mistake until you see his face visibly turning red. he quickly turns away, pretending to add finishing touches to the painting with nothing but water on the brush.

now you realize, its time. you quickly build up your confidence, not wanting to stay in this awkward silence any longer.

“look- i don’t know how to say this. but i like you, so much.” you can see sunghoon’s mouth slightly open, eyes widening as well. you continue, “and i know your idea of love isn’t that fond. so i hope we can still be friends after this. but please take my feelings into consideration.” you slightly smile at him.

he’s still in shock when he answers. “y/n, i don’t like you back-”

you blank for the rest of his sentence. realizing now that you should have left those words unsaid. so, so many words that should’ve been left unsaid.

he stops talking, waiting for your reaction. you aren’t sure if you feel like crying or screaming, but one thing you were sure you felt was that you wanted to get out of there.

you nod in disappointment, taking your canvas and paint with an awkward goodbye. you walk away, trying your best to ignore the slight blur in your vision.

09 “SHE WHAT?”

was the first thing jay said when he told them about the date. jake gave sunghoon a look of disbelief, and heeseung laughed at him.

“dude, we know damn well she did not say that.” heeseung smirks, stifling a laugh.

sunghoon eyebrows furrow, “what? she did say that! and i don’t know how to feel! she also isn’t answering my calls so that’s why i invited you over, not to have tea and biscuits.”

jake quietly puts his tea cup down, missing when sunghoon rolls his eyes at him.

“okay so what’s your opinion on her?” jay leans slightly forward, looking at sunghoon with an eyebrow raised.

“well-” sunghoon abruptly stops. how could he put this into words?

for one he always has a smile on around you, whether it’s a smirk or a genuine smile. either work.

two, he thinks you’re pretty, like the moon in an empty sky, or a person seeing a sunset for the first time. but that would surely get him teased, so he keeps quiet on that one.

three, he thinks you’re kind, too kind for your own good. just yesterday when you had bought all the supplies for painting when you both knew he could’ve rented out the whole park for you two, or when he offered to pay for the drinks you got for your members after the time he bumped into you, to which you declined fully knowing his economic status.

yeah, you’re kind.

sunghoon barely manages to get out, “she’s… kind?”

jake scoffs, “just kind? after all the date’s you’ve had with her, you don’t think she's funny or pretty or anything?”

yeah i think a lot of things. he thinks. deciding to also keep that to himself.

“i mean she’s pretty and funny.” sunghoon blankly states, not wanting to overshare.

“c’mon dude! i know you’re thinking some poetic shit but are too scared to say it to us. we won’t judge!” heeseung argues.

jay laughs at heeseung’s last comment, knowing full well it was a lie.

sunghoon rolls his eyes for nth time, realizing he’d have to say something anyways.

“well i think she’s pretty, but like so pretty you can’t describe it.” he thinks for a moment, trying to put it simply, “also her smile,” sunghoon lets out a breathy smile. making his friends all seem disappointed.

“it literally just sounds like you’re in love with her. your girl problems are too easy,” heeseung sighs, taking a bite of the biscuit waiting to be eaten.

“well, i’m not in love with her! i just enjoy her company.”

“i enjoy jake’s company but i don't dreamily sigh about his smile,” jay adds, to which jake winks at him.

jay gives him a disgusted look, turning to focus on sunghoon and his problem.

“okay well i don’t want to be in love with her!” he says, throwing his hands in defeat.

“why? what’s so wrong with liking a girl?” heeseung asks, his voice slightly muffled by the food he was eating.

sunghoon furrows his brows in disgust. “okay, first of all, don’t talk with food in your mouth, and second of all…” he pauses, does he really want to get that personal right now?

the answer is no.

“second of all, i don’t want to fall in love just to be disappointed in the end.”

jake sighs, “man, if you don’t want to fall in love that’s fine, but just think about the good things that could come out of it.”

sunghoon nods, taking in his words. what good things would come out of it? unrequited love? heartbreaks? being married to someone else because you’re a prince?

he didn’t think anything good would come out of it.

so sunghoon decided he didn’t love you romantically. and he never would.

010 YOU WERE STILL IGNORING HIS CALLS

every text left on delivered, every call left unanswered and sunghoon didn’t know what was wrong.

well, yes he did know what was wrong but he wasn’t sure how to fix it. his friends certainly hadn’t helped and he had no one else to ask.

so maybe he had to take matters into his own hands.

his plan was to host a ball then formally invite you to it. you couldn’t decline an invitation personally from the prince could you?

then he would just go with the flow, talk to you and apologize and become friends again. easy, right?

convincing his parents to invite you to the ball was simple. even if his mom was a little uneasy, she was delighted he wanted to personally invite someone to the ball they were hosting.

for once sunghoon left them with a smile on his face.

now all he had to do was wait. he knew it would never happen but everytime he got a notification, his face lit up. frantically checking the message for any sign of the word “y/n”. but he never found one.

all sunghoon did that week was wait for a text back. it hurted his brain honestly, all his worries were constantly flooding it. everytime he tried to focus on whatever his teacher was saying he couldn’t. not when his friendship was at stake.

he wasn’t sure why he was so worried about you, considering you were just friends. but the more he thought about it, the more confused he got.

but when the day finally came, he wasn’t as ready for it as he should’ve been.

yes he mentally prepared himself, and he made sure everything at the ball was perfect. but he forgot the most important part.

planning the apology.

sunghoon wouldn’t say he was the best at apologies. when people say that the words should come from the heart he laughs. it’s not like the heart has a mouth to speak with, he always thinks. but this time, he’s really relying on those words said by others.

but stupid phrases couldn’t help now.

so, sunghoon took a deep breath. and foot by foot, he entered the ballroom.

011 HIS FACE TURNS A WARM PINK WHEN HE SAW YOU

wearing a grayish-blue gown with sparkle lined layers towards the bottom. you had a huge smile on your face, talking to another woman.

he was so busy scanning your features he hadn’t noticed all his friends crowding around him. they all continuously teased him for the love struck look in his eyes. one that i don’t have. he thinks, ignoring the comments they had made.

he notices the look in your eyes, slowly growing less happy as you scan the beautiful lady in front of you. your smile slightly falls, but still evident in your face when she leaves. you look around, locking eyes with him. your smile falls this time, not hiding the slightly dreading facial expressions you had.

sunghoon calls you over, seeing the bright smile on your face return to meet his friends.

you happily greet each of them, each sharing a small fact about themself. you try to listen to each one, even though you’ll most likely forget it in an hour.

finally, you shake sunghoons hand. ignoring the awkward tension between you two.

jake quickly starts a conversation, saying, “y/n! you were the band that played at hoon’s birthday right? what instrument did you play?”

you nod, “yeah i play the bass! i also do some singing but i’m not the lead singer,” you chuckle. jake nods, taking a sip of whatever drink he had.

you look at sunghoon finding his eyes already latched onto yours. you look away quickly ignoring the interaction.

jay senses the tension, finding an excuse to lead his friends away from you two.

sunghoon mentally lets out a sigh of relief, realizing he had to start his apology soon.

“y/n look- can we talk about last week?”

you sigh, nodding.

“i was just thinking about it and i realized how rude i was that day, and that i’m sorry for that,” he braces himself for your reaction, a wash of relief goes over him when he sees your soft smile.

honestly, you don’t even remember what he said, but he must’ve been pretty mean.

“you don’t have to be sorry for rejecting me sunghoon, i get it. let’s just move on. okay hoon?” you tease, to which sunghoon rolls his eyes, barely keeping his smile in.

he doesn’t think anyone else can call him that anymore.

sunghoon makes eye contact with his mother, urging him to join the dance floor ever so near him.

you give a knowing look to him, dragging him to the ballroom floor.

the floor is filled with people, sunghoon leads you through the people, all moving in a unison formation. you finally find an empty spot, stopping there.

he laughs, “you remember how to dance right?”

“of course i do,” you answer, placing your right hand on his shoulder, softly holding his other hand.

he starts moving you two around, twirling you and lifting you up. you two laugh every time a small stunt comes up. but for a majority of the time, you’re just waltzing around, engaging in some small talk.

“you know i’ve always wanted to play an instrument?” sunghoon asks.

you shake your head, slightly frowning, “if you told me i could’ve started teaching you how to play bass guitar!”

he laughs at your response, taking in the atmosphere around him.

sunghoon can’t ignore the fact that your hands have gotten softer than before, or that you had some makeup on that enhanced your features, or that everytime you would mess up you would laugh it off.

sunghoon can’t help but have a smile on his face around you.

he can’t help but enjoy being with you. he can’t help but look forward to spending time together. he can’t help but find you infinitely gorgeous and perfect.

he can’t help but fall in love with you.

and this time, he accepts it.

soon the music comes to an end, but you're too busy enjoying eachothers company to acknowledge it.

he randomly says, “i’m sorry for what i’m about to do.”

sunghoon knows he’ll regret this, but he does it anyway.

he plants his lips onto yours, softly kissing you. you’re shocked at first. before you return the kiss, wrapping you arms around his neck. you pull out to take a breath, looking deeply into his dark brown eyes.

he smiles at you, and you smile back.

maybe this time sunghoon will give love a try. and maybe it’ll work out for him.

012 EXTRA

this was the fourth time sunghoon had tried to sneak you out of your schedule, everytime he tried something new but it never worked.

but this time he had a new plan.

you had just finished your stage at music bank, and still had hours to go until awards were announced.

sunghoon’s job was to distract the staff, and let you sneak out unnoticed.

he arrived at the back door, starting small talk with the staff in front of the doors.

“hey have you seen my new selfie?”

“do you like this theme for the next ball?”

“which suit should i wear?” he repeatedly asks, nudging his head as a symbol for you to go.

you, watching throw a small crack in the door, open it and take off running out from the side which was slightly out of their view. you run as fast as possible. foot after foot, step after step. ignoring the weird looks sent your way, you finally stop at a familiar tree.

a few minutes later he comes running to you, waving at you.

before you say anything he tackles you into a hug, almost knocking you over.

“someone missed me huh?” you tease, softly caressing his shoulder.

“yeah i really did,” he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“how’d you even distract them for that long? they always keep their eyes on the door.” you furrow your brows, worried they were chasing after you.

he smirks, keeping eye contact while putting your hair behind your ear. you quickly get flustered, dropping the subject.

sunghoon truly was quite the distractor.

thank u sm for reading! if you liked this plz check out my work “apple cider” :)) have a great day!!

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