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seokiecoffee · 1 year

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Homecoming

Min Yoongi, your loyal subordinate and lover turned out to be a double agent for your rival mob family, leaving you angry, lonely and devastated. The traitor however mysteriously requests a meeting with you two months after his disappearance. What could he want now, knowing he'd be risking his life stepping foot in your territory?

Pairing: Yoongi x Gender Neutral Reader Genre: Smut 🔞 Mafia AU Tags: Mild angst and pining, Love Confessions, Light Dom/Sub, Dom!Min Yoongi, Spit as lube, Choking, Light Asphyxiation -- all consensual! Total word Count: 8,9k words

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Read under the cut ⬎

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People shuffled around the spacious, luxurious lounge of your syndicate's Headquarters, nervous and frantic as they prepared for Min Yoongi's arrival. The lights were dim and the decor was exquisite. Deep red velvet couches with intricate wood trimmings, gold candlesticks and chandeliers, crystal wine glasses and decanters on delicate glass tables.

"Just got word from the lobby," Namjoon spoke, smooth and unbothered close to your ear and away from the hysterics of your staff. His warm breath fanned over your sensitive skin, tickling it. "He just arrived. Should be up here soon."

Always so calm and collected on the surface, careful and prepared for anything, but you could tell from the steely expression in his eyes that he was worried.

"Thank you, Joonie," you replied with a tense smile, eyes laser focused on the door. You couldn't help but feel the same. You needed to keep appearances, but the anxious fluttering in your gut was far from the aloof and sardonic attitude you kept on display.

Beside you, you heard the smooth glide and snap of metal. Magazines clanked against each other in Hoseok's hands as he discharged a used cartridge, letting it fall to the floor haphazardly before slotting a fresh one in. You didn't need to glance over to know the look of absolute loathing on his face. He prepared himself for the worst, for a battle he never thought he'd have to fight in, a battle you hoped would never come.

"You sure you don't want a vest, Boss?” Oh, he was furious. His words were spoken idly but the quiet rage bubbling just beneath the surface was chilling.

You shook your head.

"That's not his style, you know that."

Yoongi was very reactive, almost manic in the effortless way he took down his enemies. But he wasn't crass. He held the principles of the martial arts he mastered close to his heart, a craft he developed outside of the underworld, much unlike the rest of you. That was why Yoongi was so mesmerising in the way he slaughtered your opposition with the fine blade of his katana, moving like wind between the bodies in his way, so precise and so dangerously beautiful.

He'd wipe the blood dripping off his sword on the sleeve of his suit as if it were the sleeve of a kimono before sheathing the sword once more, and he'd kneel before you. The crimson, lifeless bodies behind him like a present for you. All that danger in one person, packaged and offered on a silver platter.

All those promises of fealty, of devotion and sacrifice. All those nights where you let yourself unwind loose under his palms despite your status and his danger. And all those sorrowful mornings where you'd pretend to have a duty and closed yourself up once more.

You thought you knew him where it mattered. You thought you had him in some capacity. But was it really all a farce?

Your stomach churned unpleasantly.

"I don't wanna risk it," Hoseok insisted, draping a bulletproof vest over the couch's armrest in a silent offer.

But what was the point? Yoongi never used guns.

... Right?

You finally looked up at Hoseok and the words got stuck in your throat.

His eyes were the darkest you'd ever seen coming from him. Eyebrows set low, eyes sharp and intense as though the whole world rested upon his shoulders.

"Maybe everything we thought we knew about him was wrong, including how he fights. It's not that far fetched after the shit he pulled," he said, his rage and regret seeping through his words. "He's not who we thought he was."

His mind had gone down the same path as yours, it seemed.

An unsettling feeling creeped up your spine and tingled your extremities uncomfortably. You didn't want it to be true.

Hoseok occupied himself with his guns once more, checking again that everything was set and ready, then twice over before moving onto his second assault rifle and repeating the same for good measure. The knot between his eyebrows, as did his sneer, couldn't hide the obvious devastating sadness he felt. You knew him too well, knew the soft spot he had for Yoongi, as did Namjoon. You felt less alone knowing they too were suffering from his betrayal.

You wanted to tell Hoseok you could see how he felt, wanted to watch the surprise blossom on his face as a blush would spread across his full cheeks. You looked at Namjoon to your right, and wished to do the same and watch his sorrow slowly reveal itself completely to you. But you couldn't. You three needed to stay focused.

The sound of knocking suddenly made itself known, and your blood ran cold.

One of your subordinates looked at you, frightened and apprehensive as she stood beside the large, white double doors, hands hovering awkwardly in her reluctance to let the dangerous traitor in.

You nodded curtly at her, and she obeyed with fear brimming his eyes.

She slowly approached the doors, placed her hands on the handles, took a deep breath, and opened.

On the other side stood Min Yoongi, overgrown dark hair tied away from his face in a bun as the rest of his locks curled around his pale neck. He wore black cargo pants and boots with a comfortable looking deep wine coloured suede jacket. He sported the confidence of a man who didn't fear death, as he often did, but there was something in his eyes that shimmered with excitement, and that terrified you.

He immediately walked in unprompted, carrying an odd, dark rucksack slung over his shoulder as he surveyed the area curiously. He looked between Hoseok and Namjoon individually, nodding in a greeting they did not reciprocate, and then finally, he looked at you.

Clinking metal echoed throughout the lounge as Hoseok raised his weapon and pointed it squarely at Yoongi.

"Don't walk any further," Hoseok warned.

Yoongi smirked at Hoseok playfully, though a threat of aggression teased the corners of his narrowing eyes.

"What's with the rucksack?" Namjoon interjected.

Yoongi looked back at Namjoon with a challenging gaze before moving on and facing you.

To you, he looked differently and visibly so, toning the cheeky attitude down to a low simmer despite his confidence filling up the room.

"I'll show you if your lackeys leave the room," he said simply.

"What kinda joke is this?"

"You have no right to make demands."

Hoseok and Namjoon both contested at the same time, and the rest of your subordinates quickly began exchanging concerned whispers to one another.

You considered it for a moment. Sure, you could send everyone out, save for Hoseok and Namjoon. Worst that could happen would be that a gun was hidden in that bag, but Hoseok would get to him fast enough. You could also send everyone out and face him alone. It wasn't safe, but you entertained the idea that perhaps he, too, thought you had unfinished business. The betrayal hurt you deeply, but it was too dangerous to yearn for one last taste of the deadly man Min Yoongi was.

The lounge was filled with increasingly loud murmuring as the worried entourage shared what you could only imagine were conspiring words against that man who could end their lives so effortlessly, were it his will.

You lifted a hand up – it shut them up in one fell swoop.

"Everybody leave me with the traitor," you announced, a laid back smile gracing your lips to match his confident grin. You didn't break eye contact with him, you couldn't, and he tilted his head to the side, observing you in turn. Your heart fluttered at his gestures, the edge in his expressions, so fucking dangerous and equally delicious, and you couldn’t help but desire that same danger to come suffocatingly closer until it consumed you. His lips curled as his tongue peeked out to lick them absentmindedly. Those analytical eyes pierced you in a way that reminded you of the nights you spent alone, though the tension you felt at that moment was a far cry from the comfort you’d once felt with him.

You heard Namjoon shift on your right, snapping you out of your thoughts. You brought your hand up again, eyes never leaving Yoongi’s, and waved it vaguely for them to stop.

"Not you two."

They shared a moment of stunned silence as the last of your people left.

And with the doors finally closed and the room clear, you breathed in relief.

"You don't expect me to hand myself over to the enemy, do you? I know I ask you to have some faith in me, but even I can't outrun bullets." You muttered to your right hand men, chin held up proudly as you carefully watched Yoongi’s fists clench around the rucksack. He could be nervous despite his demeanour, you considered. But Yoongi only showed the opposite, raising his eyebrows as he chuckled and grinning widely with amusement.

"Since when do I use guns?”

"I'll answer your question with one of my own, traitor." You sat forward, forearms coming to rest on your knees. "Do we even know you, Min Yoongi?” You scoffed. "Is that even your name?”

Something soured in his expression, something in the way his mouth tensed for a moment, or the way his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

"Well," he recomposed himself, shifting the rucksack off his shoulder so it hung low on his side. "I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with what I bring you today, regardless of the hatred or distrust you hold toward me."

I don't hate you, you wanted to say. But you're making it really hard to stop myself from going down that road.

You glared up at him through your lashes, not containing your distaste for the man. But being in that situation hurt, having to play that role hurt. You didn’t want to show face, didn’t want to bear the responsibilities that rest upon you and simply wanted to mourn a betrayal. But still, you frowned.

He watched you for a moment, no doubt assessing his odds and possible outcomes. His gaze shifted quickly between Hoseok and Namjoon one last time before setting his eyes on you with finality.

And then he gave you a look that made your lungs seize up as your breath caught in your throat.

Min Yoongi’s eyes shifted and held a level of determination and power you’d never seen before. There was anger, searing focus, and… Sadness? Vulnerability? And yet he looked powerful, like he was in complete control of the room, and that you’d soon understand why that was.

Time slowed down as Yoongi thrust the rucksack in your direction. A muted, but hard thud hit the ground before something started rolling out of the bag from the momentum. You were still focused on him, locked in his eyes as they grew sharper by the second. But curiosity got the best of you. You slowly looked down as the object rolled toward your feet and felt yourself go blank as shock washed over and paralysed you.

There was no way.

There was absolutely no fucking way.

You stared down at the bloody, decapitated head of a middle aged man. One who very few knew, one whom you'd had the displeasure of meeting on the rare occasion. That man had personally sent you a memo informing you that your "favourite lapdog", as he's called him, had played you for a fool. That he'd been deceiving you the entire time.

That man whose head rolled before your feet belonged to your crime family's rival leader, the man whom you'd dedicated the better part of your life to dethrone.

And now there he was. Effectively dethroned by the man who had supposedly betrayed you.

The man you... The man you feared to love, but did so regardless.

And that man stood before you with a look of absolute delight as he took in your stunned response. He looked so smug, and yet so relieved as your wide eyes shifted between his own and the head on the ground. His tongue traced the inside of his cheek and poked between his teeth, eyes smiling and so satisfied with a job well done.

"Hoseok, Namjoon," you spoke up, voice calm despite the heavy beating of your heart. "I'd like to have a word alone with Yoongi, if that's quite alright."

You didn't look away from him as they obeyed, gathering their things and walking toward the door. Once it clicked behind their backs you licked your lips nervously, hands trembling ever so slightly, and you focused once more on mending your cracked façade.

"You worked for him when you joined us?” You questioned as you slowly leaned back on the couch and crossed your arms and legs. Your voice was steely, despite a wisp of vulnerability bleeding through.

And Yoongi wasn't an idiot. He could hear it well enough.

"Yes," he replied with that fucking smug smile, like nothing could bring him down. "I hated his guts though."

"Elaborate."

"You know why."

You squinted at him.

So he didn't actually lie about himself and his past while he worked under you?

"What else did you lie about?"

"Very little. Little lies around the truth of how I got here to avoid mentioning my allegiance to that bastard."

You scoffed.

"And I’m supposed to believe everything else you told me was the truth." You pressed sarcastically, growing distressed at the shred of hope that opened up once more.

"If you want to." He replied candidly. Then, softly, "I hope you do."

You stilled, heart hammering against your chest.

"What made you betray him, when you had me- had all of us here in the palm of your hand?"

And God, if the way his gaze intensified wasn't answer enough. But still, he took one step further, then two, then three.

"Everything you guys do here, the way you run things… People like him don't care about street rats like us. All they care about is farming money trees off the backs of the people struggling the most in our neighbourhoods."

He pointed at you with a giddy, yet sharp smile that spoke of pride and belonging.

"But you- You're like me. Seok is like me. Joon is like me. You know what it's like to struggle with nothing to your name and you never forget your roots. I joined those fuckers so I could survive, but with you… With you it felt like I could actually live."

"Yoongi," you breathed, winded.

"Every mission you had me do, every target you chose for me to execute, every meeting we ever had. All your goals and the way you go about things... You never put people like us recklessly on the line."

The heavy hammering in your chest had turned into a fluttering heartbeat, the knots in your stomach, butterflies.

You couldn't help but allow your visage to relax, the sadness you couldn't allow an enemy to see finally on full display. A soft, dazed smile graced your lips and Yoongi matched you, confidence turning into fondness.

"You don't have to want me back, but I hope you understand how I chose to do what I did. I couldn't risk anyone suspecting my loyalty on their side."

You nodded curtly, unsure of what to even say. It was a monumental thing, overwhelming and so surprising you found yourself not knowing what to do. You looked at Yoongi, who stood a few steps away from you and you fully accepted just how much you wanted him.

The way he gazed at you so intensely through those intense, cat-like eyes of his, and his cocky, shit-eating grin despite the raw honesty he shared kept your heart going impossibly fast, made your breath get caught in your chest and the yearning for him at an all time high.

You didn’t want him, you needed him.

And he wasn't a traitor, a liar.

No, he was yours.

You stood up slowly and walked closer, step by step. It was as simple as that. You grabbed him by the jacket, fingertips tickled by the soft suede, and you pulled him down to you.

He eagerly devoured your mouth and God, you could almost feel his smile through the kiss. His hands snaked around you and brought you impossibly close as he tasted every bit of you eagerly. Lips and tongue caressed where teeth grazed and bit hungrily. And he tasted so fucking good, like he'd never left.

You could already feel your arousal creeping in, electricity palpable in the air as a low simmer grew between your legs. He was just as affected as you though, his growing erection poking against your lower stomach and lighting a fire within you. You pressed your lower body closer and sighed at the feeling of his need pressing against you. I did that, you thought proudly. He wants me that badly.

He hummed as he kissed over your jaw, then raked his teeth over your pulse, and you trembled, latching onto him with an arm around his neck and the other around his shoulder. He soothed the skin with his tongue before leaving a wet kiss and biting it once over. You whimpered shamefully at the tingling feeling, at the way it made you throb further with need, and he chuckled.

"My pretty boss,” he traced your hairline with his fingers, tucking a stray hair behind your ear and kissing the shell gently. “So sensitive as always." One of his hands reached lower and gripped your waist hard. "Did you miss me?"

You nodded into his shoulder, bashful and uncharacteristically vulnerable. He seemed to have noticed, and laughed in response as he nosed down your neck again.

"Two months is a long time," he mused, kissing down to your collarbones and tasting your skin further. "Must have been so lonely..."

You groaned in response, hoping it would convey the truth without you actually saying it, too embarrassed to admit it.

"Did one of your lackeys take up my job while I was away?” A hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers hot against your neck and making you lose your senses. "Or did you take care of yourself and thought of me?”

Fuck.

You nodded.

He chuckled, a smug little smile as he licked his lips.

"How naughty, thinking about this horrible traitor fucking you raw." His fingers wrapped around your neck, as the other rested on your lower back, and he squeezed just a bit around your windpipe, almost playfully. "Bet it only made it better, the idea that I could kill you mid-act."

You closed your eyes and tilted your head down in shame, but ultimately, you nodded.

Yoongi laughed again, airy and carefree, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he thumbed your cheek.

"It's okay," he whispered gently, before tilting your head back and kissing you once again. “I can fuck you like you imagined me to, if that’s what you want,” he suggested, making you whimper. “I can have my hand around your throat and threaten you like that. Or would you rather one of my knives?”

“Stop,” you sobbed as your hands desperately grabbed tighter around his jacket. He laughed cruelly, though his eyes smiled fondly.

He kissed you once more and slowly backed you into the sofa. He lay you down and draped himself on top of you, hand running up and down your side and groping along your thighs greedily. Your hips bucked into him unconsciously, but he used the momentum to rut down into your own arousal. You moaned into his mouth at the friction, feeling both the relief of some pressure and the frustrating build-up of pleasure. Your arms brought him closer to you, hugging him, caressing his face and carding your hands through the waves around his neck. Your need ran deep after so many agonising weeks apart, but he was glad to give you your fill.

A part of you was afraid he'd disappear, that you'd dreamt the whole thing and would wake up high and dry in pale silk bed sheets. Your fingers dug into his clothes, into his scalp and made him grunt as he licked into your mouth possessively and let his hands take what he wanted from you. You never wanted him to slip from between your fingers ever again, but if he kept touching you that way, you knew you had nothing to worry about.

And above you, he bit down on your lip, sucked it hard and made you groan. It stung so good, made you buck your hips up to his again, and he ground down onto you without shame. He was so hard, almost completely at that point. His pants were tight but it rubbed against your groin so deliciously and you lifted your thigh to wrap around his waist for better access. You sighed from the relief, and Yoongi’s hand reached up your propped up thigh to finally squeeze your ass through your slacks.

You were aching for him and needed him so badly.

"Please," you whispered between kisses, thighs quivering, wrapped around his narrow, but solid middle. “More, I need to feel more of you.”

Yoongi pulled away, breathless, and looked into your eyes so intensely you felt like you could faint.

It was that look he gave you when he entered the room, a look that screamed he was ready for battle, that you were his prey, that he'd eat you up and own you forever. He would only give you that look every now and then, something fleeting and private in your bedroom or office, but on that day it felt as if he'd done several times since walking into the room, making your heart go rampant at every second. And it didn't seem like he'd stop anytime soon.

"I'm never letting you go," he growled. "Never again." You exhaled shakily, arousal making it hard to formulate any thought beyond take me. Yoongi seemed to have understood though, because he smirked proudly, with excitement bursting at the seams.

"Yoon," you whispered, feeling completely breathless.

His hands began roaming your body possessively, down your chest and around your waist. He reached down to bite and suck on your neck once or twice before leaning back and observing your fucked-out expression with that hungry grin of his. Those hands grabbed your ass repeatedly, then lowered to your thighs, feeling your soft flesh greedily until they came close to your groin. He stopped right before touching where you wanted him most, right where it throbbed.

He simply looked at you for a few moments, savouring it as if it were a well earned prize.

It was embarrassing. You were completely riled up, face heated and so, so aroused it was laughable. And all he did was watch you contently.

"I should have you executed for stringing me along without touching me," you spat with as much fervour as you could, but it sounded small and desperate instead.

So he laughed. Of course he fucking laughed.

He leaned halfway down, a few stray locks of hair curling around his face. The gentleness of his smile took you by surprise.

"I must be the only man in this country who doesn't fear a threat coming from these lips," he breathed before kissing you gently. But not before sliding his hand up and rubbing firm circles over your slacks.

"Ah!" You gasped, cutting the sweet kiss short.

"Is this good?" The bastard asked rhetorically.

"Fuck you," you grit out before groaning at the way he pressed down harder. "Fuck!"

"You're so cold and tough out there, but the moment I touch you, you fall apart," he mused as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your bruised neck and over your collarbones, taking his time winding you up. "You often say you don't care what they think about the sounds you make when I fuck you, but I think you do." He bit down just beneath your jaw, making you hiss before his tongue traced over the mark apologetically. "I think you want them to see you getting fucked. I think you feel powerful letting everyone know you have the world in the palm of your hands and choose to have your lackeys fuck you while you lay here and enjoy it."

You trembled under his palms, whimpered and sighed as he worked you expertly over your slacks. His practised touch combined with his deep, rumbling taunts were driving you up the wall with tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

It was true, in a sense. You enjoyed power, the rush, the perks, and its responsibilities. But Yoongi had it wrong. As hot as it would be to have people see how good Yoongi was to you, you wanted to keep it close to your heart, between the two of you. Because to you, he wasn't your subordinate, someone to please you as you desired and go back to work once he fucked your frustrations out. He was so much more than that.

He unbuttoned your black shirt and slid it off your shoulders. Then he traced your skin with his large palms and kissed down your abdomen, and you thought finally. He kissed your lower belly and unbuttoned your trousers, took off your boots and hovered over your sex with a heated gaze. He looked up at you through his lashes, hungry and dark, before mouthing over your arousal through your underwear. You shook under his mouth, the feeling so warm and lovely and surprisingly gentle. Your hands went into his hair, and it became more and more dishevelled as your passion progressed.

He pressed and dragged his tongue over you and you squirmed, whining in frustration as he kept riling you up with no release. He, too, moaned as he pressed an open mouthed kiss right at the top, sending vibrations into your sensitive skin and making you moan as well.

“Yoongi,” you pleaded, “please just fuck me.”

“Just like that?” He scoffed, working his way back up your body. “We’ve barely started.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want it either.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he grinned, kissing up your chest, shoulders and neck.

“Then get on with it, Yoon,” you whined.

He shook his head, feigning annoyance, and pressed one last kiss to your lips before taking off his jacket and shirt. His chest, much like the rest of him, was both pretty and mouth watering. Gentle curves and strong muscles mingled together into a soft, yet powerful body. You’d spent many nights that past year tracing patterns on the subtle lines of his abdomen and chest, skin so smooth down to his pelvis. Now, hovering over you and undoing his belt, you licked your lips at the anticipation of seeing said skin completely bare once again.

He smirked, observing the way your tongue traced your lips with a satisfied grin of his own. He looked down at you, his wide hands grasping his belt and undoing it. There was something so erotic about the action and you couldn't help but watch in a trance. He knew what he was doing, knew how it riled you up. He slowed down his movements to a leisurely pace, sliding the belt off his jeans and dropping it on the floor. As he unbuttoned and unzipped, you flitted your gaze back up at him, finding him already looking at you. His smile widening just a fraction.

Yoongi held onto your hips and slowly peeled your underwear off. It felt like a relief, body finally free to breathe. But he didn’t stop, his thumb reaching down to drag over your sensitive, wet skin. You shivered and a broken whine escaped your lips.

“So pretty,” he mused, finally lowering his jeans down his hips. “Missed having you.”

He lowered his underwear next and took his cock out. He stroked himself to full hardness as he watched you and your legs curled around his waist to bring him closer.

“Do something about it, then.”

Yoongi scoffed. He brought his other hand to his mouth and gathered a healthy amount of spit onto his fingers. Then, he lewdly brought them between your legs and stroked your entrance. You jumped at the contact, but melted soon into the touch. The pads of his fingers drew circles, teasing as they almost dipped inside. You squirmed and groaned and clenched around nothing, those nice fingers so close and yet so far.

“Can you still take two at once?” He asked teasingly, fingers digging further just a fraction. It was infuriating.

You nodded.

“Come on, just do it, please,” you moaned.

“Hmm,” he considered, giving you a once over. “Well, you asked for it.”

Suddenly, he thrust two of his fingers all the way in. You gasped in surprise, then moaned long and loud at the overwhelming feeling. It was good, so good. The stretch was unexpected and came too suddenly, but the light burning sensation was satisfying, like an itch had been scratched. His fingers, thick and slick, moved experimentally to gauge your comfort.

“You really took good care of yourself while I was away.”

He slowly inserted a third, your breath hitching at the way he pushed your body closer to its limits. His fingers were thicker than yours. The three of them were already thicker than his cock and far wider than three fingers of your own. Still, he pressed on, stretching your hole and watching attentively between it and your expressions. His movements were a lot slower, more patient, clearly careful for it to be more pleasurable than straining. Below, you could see his dick beading with precum at the tip, hanging heavy between his legs and abandoned in favour of kneading your inner thigh. The gesture felt lovely in contrast with the intensity of being filled to the brim and stretched beyond your usual limits. You kept holding in your breath, then breathing out in strained whines.

“So good,” he praised, his baritone voice almost purring the words. “I think you’re more than ready for me, don’t you think?”

You moaned as his fingers went deeper in you one last time. Then, he smiled mischievously as he bottomed out and pressed against your hole. This knuckles and hand dug into your skin, sensitive and swollen from arousal, and it made you shiver.

He looked down on you like you were his plaything, so proud of owning and taking you apart, and yet the glee and warmth in his eyes spoke volumes of how he missed you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

“Y-Yoon,” you whined desperately. “Please…”

Yoongi bit his lip and nodded, watching the way his fingers retracted from your body attentively and appreciating the way they shone from slick. Finally, he took himself in hand once more, stroked his cock and sighed.

“God,” he groaned, hand still stroking your soft thigh up and down. “Let me use your mouth. To prepare.”

You licked your lips. Then wordlessly opened it, tongue poking out.

“Fuck.” He climbed over you until his crotch was levelled with your face. He guided his cock to your lips, rubbed the tip over your tongue, and slowly thrust in.

Yoongi’s dick glided slowly down your throat and you did your best to accommodate him. You relaxed and tried to widen your throat so you wouldn’t gag and felt the weight of him on your tongue, sliding easily farther down. Above you, Yoongi’s breath was growing laboured. He put his weight on the arm rest behind you, as well as the back of the couch, and rolled his hips carefully out, then in again, deeper.

You let your mouth be used, not focused on stimulating or sucking him so that all the spit lathered around him could be used to slick his way into you easily. And it did not take long for that to happen. Soon, his dick was sliding in and out, wet sounds making their way to your ears as saliva slushed back and forth in rhythm with his movements. You moaned around him, reaching down to yourself for some relief. The feeling of your fingers gently stroking your sensitive, swollen flesh, together with the feeling of Yoongi’s cock rubbing against your tongue and lips… It was heavenly.

Finally, he pulled out, dick dripping and flushed red from the stimulation.

“Fucking perfect,” he grunted as he crawled back to where he once was between your legs. “Your mouth always feels so fucking good, so fucking perfect.” He rambled, leaning down and finally kissing you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, meeting his tongue with yours. Meanwhile, he lined up his cock with your entrance and rubbed circles with the tip against it.

“Ready?” He looked dishevelled. His bun was a mess, stray locks fell around his face, one or two falling over his forehead and fanning over his eyes. Said eyes were dark with lust, lidded low and hungry, ready to eat you whole and consume you and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you responded, feeling smaller, but wanted and desired. “God, please Yoongi, I missed you so much.”

He smirked a cheeky smile, looking so very proud of himself once again. With one last nod, he plunged in.

It slid in easily after all that prep, filling you up little by little. His dick felt even bigger once inside, gliding against every inch of your sensitive flesh and drawing choked moans from your lips.

“That feel good?” He asked, fingers dragging down your stomach and onto your heated flesh, stroking you in time with his movements to make it all feel better. His gaze was hazy, but concentrated on rolling his hips gently as both of you got used to the sensation.

You nodded helplessly, hands uselessly attempting to grasp the couch beneath you. You needed to hold onto something and came out empty, whining as he filled up your tight heat and grew more and more comfortable with every thrust. With his spare hand he bent your thigh over your stomach, using that angle to reach deeper within you. You sighed, mind going fuzzy at the edges from pleasure.

“Tell me,” he grunted. “Tell me what you did while I was away. How you felt.”

His pace was unrushed but no longer the slow, tentative movements of someone worried of hurting you. His hips moved smoothly, simply enjoying the way your bodies connected so close.

You struggled to speak without your voice breaking, moans seeping through every few words, but he wordlessly commanded your response, cat eyes locked with your own.

“I thought about you every day,” you confessed. “I thought of you c-coming back unannounced and fucking me. Sometimes you- you hated me, and wanted to hurt me. Sometimes you were sad and- Aah, wanted to- to love me…”

His pace hastened, clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on your thigh.

“What else, baby,” he asked, voice gravelly and strained.

You threw your head back, eyes flitting closed. He felt so good inside of you after months apart, so good holding you, fucking you.

“I thought about you hating me the most,” you sobbed. “I-It was easier to accept that you wanted me dead. It hurt too much to p-pretend you cared about me and then feel alone and cold afterwards.”

He let go of your leg and leaned down, arm beside your head supporting his weight as he kissed you.

“I care,” he muttered, eyes glimmering sadly as his voice revealed how vulnerable he felt.

“Aah- me too.” He locked his lips with yours again. “I never wanted you to hate me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed you again, pet your hair and gazed into your eyes gently. By then his pace had practically stopped, movements gentle, the focus solely on you. “What else happened while I was gone.”

Your heart beat nervously. You worried your lip and looked away.

“I cried,” you confessed. His hips stuttered, an expression of concern etched in his face.

“Y-you…”

You closed your eyes. It was too embarrassing.

You were a crime lord for crying out loud, your presence scared even the most dangerous of criminals. But that man, the man who left you gutted and betrayed, who returned with utmost devotion, who fucked you so good and held you as long as you needed, that man made you cry.

He nosed down your neck, quiet. His lips pressed open mouthed kisses, tongue peeking through to taste your skin. He bit it gently, sucked and licked the salt on it. You trembled beneath him.

“It’s okay,” you consoled, growing impatient as you rolled your hips. “What matters is that you’re here now.” He came up to look into your eyes and you held his head at the base of his neck, running through his long, silky hair. You mustered what little strength you had left and huffed. “Now get on with it. Fuck your boss like you fucking mean it, Min Yoongi.”

At that he grinned like a maniac, something sadistic peaking through his gaze.

“That right?”

“If you don’t do it I’ll find someone else to do so,” you threatened. He scoffed.

“Well, what my lovely boss wants is what my lovely boss gets.” He sat back, keeping one hand on your shoulder for support. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

He immediately began fucking you hard and fast. You gasped in shock at the assault, his pace ruthless. Your insides burned so good while his body slammed against yours repeatedly. His hand on your shoulder kept you in place, preventing you from riding up the couch and making the impact of each and every thrust even harder than before.

In a daze you looked at him, all of him, and realised how with the exception of his shirt he was still clothed. His jeans pooled at his knees, under your legs, and the sight was unexpectedly arousing.

You were completely naked, unravelled like putty in his hands. If anyone were to walk in, there was no way of preserving your dignity, much less with your legs spread lewdly around your traitorous subordinate’s waist.

He smiled confidently, like he knew the effect he had on you. You looked away from him, his gaze so overpowering when he had you at your mercy. But he grabbed you by the jaw and turned your head to face him once more, and saw him lick his lips in anticipation.

You were already dangerously close to your orgasm, pressure building behind your arousal and threatening to burst. If he was close as well he didn’t show it, as energy and determination seeped through his every movement.

“Don’t look away from me.” You felt his fingers slide down your jaw slowly until they sat loosely around your neck. You whimpered at the feeling, feeling completely and utterly owned by him. “There, that’s it.”

You kept your head in place, not daring to move an inch as he kept fucking you, body shivering in response to the stimulation. His hands were wide enough to cover your neck, long enough to have a secure grip around it. But he didn’t squeeze, and you watched his mischievous expression, waiting for him to do it.

“You want it?” He asked. “Want me to choke you?”

You nodded, feeling pathetic and weak. But that was the best part, giving yourself away to someone, giving away power and the stress that came with it. And Yoongi loved doing that for you.

“You know the drill, tap three times if you need a break,” he said softly, and it felt so routine, like nothing had ever changed between you two.

You nodded again, and felt him slow down his movements for a moment.

His hand squeezed around your neck slowly, getting a feel for your body and being mindful of your reactions. It was lovely. The pressure made you buck your hips into Yoongi, arousal spiking, and the further he squeezed, the more it hurt. His palm pressed down on your windpipe and restricted your air flow just enough to make you squirm. Once his grip was just right, he began thrusting into you again. Slow and long at first, feeling the way you clenched around him desperately.

You saw the way his jaw moved from side to side as he gathered saliva, before spitting on his fingers and lathering his cock in fresh slick. It was so crass, so filthy, but it only aroused you more.

You brought a hand between your legs and stroked yourself as he hastened his pace and fucked you fast and short once more. It was all so much you almost felt numb. His cock, his chokehold, your hand, all so, so much at once. Your face felt hot from the pressure on your neck and a feeling of helplessness washed over you. You could barely move your head, breathing restricted enough to have you panting and lightheaded, and the grip he had on you was painful in that delicious way that had your toes curling.

A wounded sound escaped your lips and something like affection bloomed in his face.

“So cute,” he murmured, expression growing strained as he no doubt drew closer to his climax. “You’re always so helpless beneath me. You talk and taunt and boss us around but the moment I take you by the neck you get so pitiful.” He gave you a quick once-over, like to make a point. “Just like this.”

You felt electricity run down your spine, hips stuttering against Yoongi’s body.

“Please,” you moaned.

He choked you harder.

You could have sworn every nerve became twice as sensitive then.

“What would everybody else say, seeing how easy you are?” He started panting, voice gravelly and dark. His hand snaked up your stomach and rubbed over your chest, flicking your nipple and making you jump. “I could snuff out your life right now, you know that? I’d just have to tighten my grip a little harder.”

That’s what he did. He tightened his hold just a fraction, and you let yourself go. You let your eyes close shut, your breath feather-light as you felt every sensation heightened. You could feel Yoongi’s fingers digging into the sensitive, bruised flesh of your neck, could feel his gentle pinching of our nipple, your own hand stroking yourself fast, but softly. And his cock, thick and long sliding in and out of you with so much ease. It reached every nook and cranny of your body, setting your nerves alight and completely overwhelming you.

Your climax made your body shake and quiver, and Yoongi let go of your neck immediately. You took in a deep breath and moaned long and drawn out as shockwaves of pleasure racked your body, making Yoongi cum as a consequence. You were squeezing so tightly around him, it was only inevitable.

He grunted as he pulled out, fisted his cock and spilled all over your stomach. Ropes of his cum painted your skin with every movement of his hand and you whimpered, eyes gazing into his as you rode your high. He took pity on you and stuffed your fluttering hole with two of his fingers, curling them up and making you see stars.

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep going,” he said.

Your breathing was laboured, mind dazed and clouded as he kept pushing you to your limits. Even as your climax slowed and stopped he kept pressing, watching you twitch and sigh for a while longer with eyes filled with just as much lust and wonder as yours.

“My pretty baby.” He pulled out his fingers, reaching behind to grab his t-shirt and wipe his hands from both of your fluids. “You did so well. God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Yoongi…”

He leaned down and kissed you, gentle but passionate. He cradled your cheek and brushed your cheek with his thumb reverently, and you felt your heart swell, as though it were healing with every touch he placed on your skin.

When he parted, you just took in the sight of one another, his expression so peaceful and yet conflicted. After such troubling weeks, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

“It’s so good to have you back,” you murmured. He chuckled nervously, sitting back up and looking down at the tshirt in his hands. He fiddled with it, then began wiping your stomach with it.

“It feels surreal to be back.” He was quiet for a moment. “I was prepared to die.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. With so many possible outcomes, both from his side and yours, it truly was a dangerous and unpredictable plan he hatched.

“And you succeeded, did you not?”

He looked up at you once more, movements stilled. He cracked a small grin, then laughed softly to himself.

“Yeah, you could say I did.”

He did his best with what little he had, and once you were somewhat clean, he threw his shirt to the ground and helped you put your clothes back on. Your body felt heavy, movements sluggish as you tried to button up your shirt and squirm back into your slacks. Yoongi’s hands were everywhere to support you, warm and steady like the rock you needed. Once dressed he placed his jacket over your shoulders and took you in his arms.

Even though you had the luxury of time, you didn’t have the comfort of a private room, with a comfortable bed and sheets. Yoongi put in the effort though, always diligent for your comfort. He leaned back on the couch and brought you in with him, laying you on his chest. He kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw, arms protectively around you. You felt lulled and secure, the rush of adrenaline from your activities slowly melting away.

“What happens now?” Yoongi’s voice rumbled against your back, reminiscent of a cat purring.

“There’s a closet in the back of the lounge with spare clothes,” you said. “I’m sure we have t-shirts somewhere in there.”

Yoongi laughed.

“Thanks, but I meant in general.”

“Oh.” You laughed, too.

As the fuzziness in your mind cleared, you contemplated his words, the events that passed and what it meant for your family. For your organisation. For your life.

It was rather simple, no?

“We continue what we’ve always done.” You turned around, feeling the strength return to your limbs. You looked down at him with the stern, but proud eyes of a leader. “Like you’ve never left.”

Yoongi smiled back, relief twinkling in his eyes. He got so bashful in these moments, when you both peeled back the masks you wore and talked earnestly. It was a rare occurrence, even scarce after you became not-so-casual lovers.

Truthfully, you’d never put a label on what you were. And after his disappearance and supposed betrayal, you were ready to believe it was all a series of flings with no strings attached, that you fucked up in getting too close and had to rebuild your walls stronger than before.

Now though, as you kissed Yoongi one last time before getting back to business, you felt hope.

You sent him off to open up the doors and let your people back in. You watched a pink cheeked Namjoon grumble under his breath as he entered first. Hoseok followed suit, his cheeky grin a far cry from his previous demeanour as he looked between you and Yoongi and pretended like he hadn’t heard a thing. The rest slowly filled the room, giving Yoongi weird looks as they gathered before you, waiting for you to make a statement. You, too, got odd looks from the crowd. Their eyes flitted between you and your bruised neck, and down to the rucksack beside you on the couch.

You had placed the severed head back inside, wanting the reveal to have an impact on your people, and for them to understand how vital Yoongi was to their team, despite his actions.

“Had fun, Boss?” Hoseok commented.

“Hoseok.” Namjoon warned.

“What? ‘S just a regular ol’ question.”

“Shut up,” you blushed despite your stoic expression. “The both of you.”

Once everyone was back in, Yoongi closed the doors and walked back to you. His footsteps echoed throughout the lounge as he calmly took his place beside you, standing proudly as you crossed your legs and leaned back.

You could see it in your people’s eyes. The way they looked between you two in concern. The way they kept looking at your hickeys and his dishevelled hair, tied back up in a hurry. They didn’t understand and were worried. Treachery wasn’t ever paid back with anything short of bloody in that world, after all.

“I once told every single one of you in this room that as long as you’re under my care you will be rewarded for both your efforts and results,” you began. “And every single one of you has tasted the benefits of your hard work, have you not?” Some nodded nervously. “Well, Min Yoongi stepped foot in this building today with a surprising gift. A gift I have never been able to offer to any of you.” You looked up to Yoongi and ordered softly. “Show them what you gave me.”

He looked positively dangerous. Like the cat who got the cream, he smirked down at you and picked up the rucksack. Then, turning towards your people, he gripped the head by the hair and let the bag drop to the ground.

The crowd gasped, shock erupting in their many faces as they cursed out loud or whispered to one another secretively.

“Min Yoongi here,” you spoke up, loud enough to cut through the commotion, “took down our greatest enemy - his former boss - because his loyalty for our family was more valuable than what money could buy.” Then softer again. “Put that ugly thing away and have someone send it to the cops. They can’t pretend he’s alive if the feds know better. Their business will crumble within the month.”

The night was spent in drinks and loud music. Everybody celebrated, but you shortly retired for the night, exhausted and sticky from your heated moment with Yoongi.

You took him back to your place, a place he knew like the back of his hand at that point. Hoseok and Namjoon had told you to stay away from there, that Yoongi knew the place too well, could easily override the alarm system, get in and kill you. But you’d stayed put. Risky as it was, your instinct had been correct.

“Stay with me,” you pleaded.

You were both standing in front of an expansive window facing the city skyline, freshly poured drinks in hand. You noticed he looked down to you in the reflection on the glass. You looked up and met his gaze.

“You have nowhere else to go, am I correct?”

Yoongi worried his lip between his teeth, looked at the ground, then back at you. It was the most startled you’d seen him all day.

He nodded wordlessly.

“Then just stay, if you feel comfortable in doing so. You can use the guest room. I mean, it’s never used and-”

You were cut off by him kissing you, both hands cradling your jaw. Though you might have been inclined to call it passionate, it felt more desperate than anything else. You held onto him, one hand over his, the other at the base of his neck where it met his shoulder. You held each other as your lips locked, feeling Yoongi’s loyalty, his loneliness and his affection all at once. You met them with your devotion, your sadness and your… Your love, you concluded. There was no doubt anymore.

Your hand snaked up his neck and onto his cheek, and you parted the kiss to rest your forehead on his. As you breathed each other's air you looked into his eyes and felt your throat dry up, closing in on itself as you conjured the words you so desperately wanted to say.

He looked down at you expectantly, something between fear and hope crossing his eyes. You didn’t know what to make of it.

“Yoon,” you breathed. “I know I’m your boss, and you owe me your blood, your rank and your loyalty but-” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I don’t see you that way.”

You closed your eyes, finding it too hard to bear his reaction.

You felt him take your hand from his cheek and pull you close, his arms wrapping themselves around you in a tight embrace. You felt his lips press gently over your pulse. Painted purple by his mouth just hours prior, now he left a trail of soft kisses up your neck until he pressed one last peck to your cheek.

You felt giddy, like you were young and naive again and had just received your first kiss.

Likewise, you heard him chuckle. And when you opened your eyes, you were met by a shy smile you’d never seen before on his blushing face.

“Y/n,” he said. “Neither do I.”

•

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#I considered dividing this into three parts here on tumblr #Since it's so long #But after tweaking three separate posts around for like half an hour I concluded this way was best LOL #min yoongi #bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #my fics #gender neutral reader #yoongi x gender neutral reader #bts x gender neutral reader

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vecnuthy · 1 year

Text

How Long, pt 3

Finale

pt 1 pt 2

Eddie Munson x reader, gender neutral but implied femme reader if you squint

Reader is struggling with suppressing their feelings for their best friend Eddie. Turns out, he is too.

Bit of angst, lots of fluff, best friends to lovers, language

4.6k words

There was nothing more thrilling, fulfilling, or soothing for you than being around Eddie, but you couldn't stop the feeling that, at some point, all of it was going to come crashing down, but what would survive in the rubble? What you did know, though, is that it was getting harder and harder to be around him. If he wrapped you in a hug one more time, if he did one more stupid (affectionate) stunt, if he said your name one more time, voice deep and low, only meant for your ears, you would absolutely go insane. If, if, if --

But you willed those private conditionals to be empty threats. It was true -- your resolve was crumbling, but you were still fervently determined to maintain that delicate balance of keeping yourself in check and keeping him close.

Tuesday night finally rolled around and Corroded Coffin's show had yielded none other than the band's version of "the surprise" in its entirety. Eddie had (rudely, you thought) refused to let you hear anything from it other than the snippet at the lake, but man had it been well worth the wait. You almost lost your mind. You, ever a riff person, were obsessed with the beat and the melody that crashed and wove around you in the dingy bar.

What made it even better was that The Hideout's few Tuesday night regulars seemed to have liked it, too. They were impressed that the band had included an original in their typical lineup of covers, but what they had expected to be an awkward glorified jam session had actually been good. You made sure to remind Eddie of their crescendoed reception, and especially of how much the song had blown you away after gear had been put away and showers had been had at his trailer. It was the first time you had stayed over since the week before, and you were only there now because it was just more convenient.

Eddie, sitting on his bed with his back against his headboard, had been rearranging the buttons and pins on his vest, but it lay forgotten in his lap as he drank you in while you gushed about the song. You weren't looking at him, focused on rubbing in your face lotion as you talked and busied yourself with getting your stuff together for the next day, but when you finally did look at him, you saw that his eyes were glazed over, and his face was frozen in a relaxed, contented smile. Your stomach knotted at the sight, and you couldn't bring yourself to hold his gaze. It was too tender, too intimate -- too disingenuous, you figured, as your eyes drifted to the tamped out blunt in his ashtray.

If he saw your internal struggle in your body language, he didn't let on when he said, "That means everything," in a low, buttery tone.

You heard it -- god you felt it. If your skin wasn't red from rubbing in your lotion, it definitely was now. Your mind went blank and your eyes unfocused for a moment before you snapped-to with a deep breath, managing to mask the bashful smile that crept across your lips with, "It was still rude of you to make me wait, though." You shut the window that had been opened to vent smoke.

"But was it worth it?"

"No, I obviously hated it." Heat crept up your neck when you thought about how ridiculous you must have looked while they played the song, but you mentally shook it back, choosing not to dwell on that particularly cringey facet of the night.

He smiled and tossed his vest onto his nightstand, and goaded, "Did Saturday not count for anything?"

You grew hot again -- Saturday had been on replay in your mind for the last few days for so many reasons.

"I wasn't really paying attention on Saturday until I realized you were playing something new," you said as you walked to the other side of the bed. His eyes followed you as you moved. "And then you stopped."

"I stopped because you noticed."

"No, you stopped because you're a little shit," you accused with a smirk as you got under the covers.

His mouth fell open. "I gave you an encore!"

"Don't talk to me about that encore, Eddie," you laughed as you tucked your right arm under your pillow.

He snorted and pressed his palm down his thigh as he internally debated something. "Maybe this," he finally said as he got up and grabbed something from his dresser, "will make up for that." He sat back down on the bed, holding out a cassette. You split your questioning look between it and him, then you took it from him, shifting so you were more on your back as you held it over you between your hands. The label read "The Surprise, Saturday Encore" in his handwriting with devil horns on the S's.

"No jokes this time," he assured.

Your mouth fell open as you looked at it, then looked up at Eddie.

"I recorded our last rehearsal of it, and I did the acoustic version of it, too, to make up for Saturday."

"Eddie, I--" Words refused to come out of your stunned face, but judging by the smile Eddie gave you, he knew you loved it. The back of your right hand briefly pressed against the forearm he was propped against when you asked, "Really?" with a smile, then you gave him a heartfelt "thank you" when he confirmed it.

"You're welcome," he replied, still smiling as you got up and started to move across the room, adding, "Even though you bought the worst-looking pizza I've ever seen." You missed how he rubbed his arm.

"Like I can see through cardboard," you shot back with an eye roll, stopping in front of his stereo.

"That would've been helpful."

You couldn't argue there. "May I?" you asked him after slotting the cassette in. You didn't feel like waiting to hear the song again, and, honestly, you wanted to keep feeding into its sentiment; every memory surrounding this song so far had made your heart swell.

Eddie pinched his bottom lip between his teeth with a smile and nodded, warmth spreading through his chest at the confirmation that you really did like the song.

You snapped back around, closed the window, and hit play. The opening notes blared out of the speakers at an ungodly loud volume that made you scream and almost jump out of your skin before you scrambled to turn it down to a respectable level. Eddie's strong laughter soon became the loudest sound in the room. "I am so sorry, I forgot I had it that loud," he gasped out and his shoulders bounced as he whiped the wet mirth from his eyes.

You were still chuckling too as you slammed your pillow into him, then got back under the covers. "No wonder the Hills next door still give you the stink eye when they see you."

"I take my music education seriously, they should be greatful to me for expanding their knowledge," he teased. "That scared the shit out of me too, though, so. . ." Within seconds, he scooted down so that you were face-to-face, the smell of toothpaste with a hint of weed he'd smoked to mellow him out engulfing you as he smiled out a playful "Hi."

You breathed out a laugh through your nose, then replied, "Hi." He smiled wider. His warm, slightly red yet still dazzling eyes melted into yours. Your left hand, resting in front of your face on the mattress, twitched as you entertained the idea of touching his face, thumbing his eyelashes, tracing his smile lines, pulling him in to crash against your lips --

He scooped up your hand and started playing with your fingers, something he especially liked to do while high. He told you once before that he found a soothing fascination in it. You found it anything but, but you always took whatever you could get. Your eyes were closed this time as you basked in the sensations and listened to the music.

"I made the riff with you in mind," he eventually admitted, too occupied with how your fingers interacted with his to notice how your eyes flew open. "I know that's your favorite part of songs."

"You made it?"

He nodded with a smile, face and curly hair scrubbing a little against his pillow, then clarified, "Well, a lot of it. The guys had some pretty good input throughout, but yeah." The movement of his fingers on your hand seemed to move with the music, leading you to wonder if he was "playing" your hand. Of course he was.

"And the hook?" you asked with a playful edge as the song moved along. You hoped your hand wasn't clammy.

He laughed. "And the hook." His fingertip took a delicate drag across your skin, making your hair stand up. "All of it, really. The whole song."

"Oh shut up, the whole song? Really?"

He chuckled warmly in confirmation, still watching his fingers and thinking about the lyrics he'd had in mind for it, which were definitely not ready to be debuted yet. Maybe he'd change them for something else eventually. Maybe he'd be able to show you at some point, to tell you. "I'm glad you like it." His eyes flicked up to yours.

"Like it?" you repeated, pulling your fingers from his hold to shift on the bed, trying to keep from getting emotional at the thought of him literally writing a song with you in mind, but the painful lump forming in your throat kept blooming. Maybe it was a mistake to play this now. "Eddie, I kind of love it." The acoustic version was playing at this point. "I know I've said it a lot, but it really is so good. Will you guys add lyrics to it or keep it instrumental?"

Eddie gave a tone that conveyed his indecision then grabbed your hand again. You watched how his hands interacted with your fingers for a moment, ignoring how his touches made your stomach twist. When you looked up at his face, his brow was furrowed as if he were lost in thought. "Penny for your thoughts?" you asked lightly.

"Hm?" He looked up at you. "Oh. Heh...." A ghost of a smile played across his lips and his eyes dropped back down. "They're more expensive than that, sweetheart."

"Dang, I only have the one on me." You both chuckled a little, but you cracked up when the song reached the part that he played in the "encore" on Saturday. He noticed it too, and laughed as well. "I still can't believe you did that." He gave you an incredulous look. "Yeah, no, I know. I totally should've seen it coming," you admitted through a smile that he matched.

You both stayed quiet and still until the song ended, then you got up and put the cassette in your bag, mumbling an "m'kay" when Eddie said something about getting some water. "Hey, wait," you called after him before he could clear the doorway. You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a hug, saying, "Thank you for everything. The ride, the surprise, the tape -- all of it."

"Yeah, of course. You're welcome," he said with a sweet smile as you pulled back. You were a bit too shaky, he was a bit too warm, and the eye contact lingered a bit too long, but you reluctantly shifted away from him, and he reluctantly moved out of the room. For the briefest of moments, you almost went after him, but thought better of it and got back under the covers for the final time and pressed your palms against your face. You had to stop staying over; this was too much.

When Eddie came back in, he had a glass of water in his hand. "For you," he said proudly as he crawled a little awkwardly onto the bed. You sat up and took it with giggly thanks in response to how he was struggling to move with the glass in his hand without spilling it. You took a drink and handed it back to him so he could put it on his nightstand once he got settled but then he took a drink from it too, which made something in your stomach stir, especially when he turned back around and he had a wet mustache with a bead of water in the corner of his mouth that started to run down his skin. Before he could do it himself, your hand was against his face, thumb wiping the water off of his skin and brushing against the corner of his bottom lip. Eddie froze under your touch and his eyes widened. Panic flooded through you and a small gasp escaped from you once you realized what you had done, and you blurted out a quiet, "Shit, I'm sorry," ripping your hand back, casting your eyes away from him, twisting around, and sliding back down onto the pillow with your back to him.

You didn't hear the "wait, no it's fine" that he breathed out as his brain caught up to what happened, but you squeezed your eyes shut, sinking further and further into your embarrassment every time he said your name. The mattress dipped when he leaned into your space, saying, "It's okay," again and his hand lighted on your upper arm. "You just surprised me, that's all."

It really wasn't okay, but you didn't want to make any bigger of a deal of it than you already had, so you just touched your hand to his in a way that you hoped conveyed that you were fine, then muttered "Goodnight, Eddie," somehow without betraying the reality of the water already pooling on your lash line. You were hot with embarrassment and frustration with yourself.

His forehead pressed against your upper arm briefly in defeat, muttering "come on" so softly that you almost missed it, but you didn't budge. "G'night," he eventually said in a small voice, then turned off the light and settled back in under the covers. He wanted to push further, but he knew there was no point; you were resolute. Your touch had his mind reeling, though.

It took you both a while to fall asleep after that, but he was the first to go. You took solace in the sound of his slow breaths, eventually relaxing enough to drift off. At some point, you ended up facing him again in your sleep. It wasn't uncommon to wake up close to the other when you slept there, especially since the bed wasn't exactly big, but the situation Eddie found himself in when he woke up early, much too early to get up and get ready for the day, was a new one. His heart raced as the fog of sleep lifted and the reality of the situation sank in: the two of you were holding each other. You were nestled into his chest, your right arm tucked between him and your own chest, and your left arm was draped over his right side, secured by his right arm, which was anchored by his hold on your hip. Your left leg was slotted between his two.

Eddie lay there not really knowing what to do, but his hand lifted off of the swell of your hip and settled more respectfully, maybe, on your waist over your shirt. He couldn't help but breathe in the lingering scent of your lotion and his soap on you and wonder how something previously seen as so mundane could be so not mundane all of the sudden. When he shifted slightly to get a better view of your face, he grew warm at your completely calm and serene expression, slow breaths coming from your slightly parted lips. His thumb absentmindedly brushed against the material of your shirt as he absorbed the situation, taking in how you felt pressed against him. He smiled to himself, heart rate slowing. This felt right.

Eddie wasn't in any hurry to go back to sleep. He snuggled in closer to you, trying his best not to wake you as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. He ran through what happened on Saturday again for the hundredth time, wondering if he had been imagining things. Surely too much had happened for it to be a coincidence, though.

He thought back to the gleam in your eyes, the enamored shock on your face as he and the band chugged out the song at the bar earlier that night. He was surprised he didn't fuck it up, almost too focused on how you were responding to pay attention to how his fingers were supposed to glide across the frets. He remembered how you raved over the song after he found you once the band had left the stage and the feel of you against him when he pulled you up in a bear hug and spun you for a moment, stopping after you shrieked in surprised laughter. The blush on your skin when he put you down had to be his new favorite color, and the dazed look you had was fuel on the fire of the moment that he stupidly didn't act on further. He relived the look on your face when he gave you the cassette, the glisten in your eyes (yeah, he caught that) as you lay in front of him after he said that you were the inspiration and was glad you liked it. The hug you gave him. The feel of your skin brushing across his mouth. . . .

. . .how it felt like his heart shattered when you apologized and turned away. God, he could kick himself for reacting like that, why the fuck did he do that.

He hugged you close in reflex before realizing what he was doing and froze immediately as waited to see if you would react. His heart hammered in his chest again when your head shifted against him, "shit shit shit" echoing in his head like a prayer, but you didn't wake up until Eddie had started to doze back off.

You felt so warm, so cozy with the familiar smell of Eddie all around you -- practically living in you. The reality of something being different became clearer and clearer the more you came to. He was right there and all around you with your arm over his body, his arm over yours, you pressed into his chest.

No.

No no no, shit, not this. Not this.

You started to move away from him, chancing a glance up at his face to see his eyes closed, which made you relaxed a little, but your heart still raced. You started to pull your left arm from his grasp, but you froze, blood running cold, body flushing hot when he grunted "mn-mmn." He didn't want you to move? Did he know how you two were?

"Eddie," you whispered.

"Mm?"

Surely he wasn't awake enough. You started to move away from him, but stopped when his hand moved to your back. You couldn't help but arch into him slightly in response, your fingers pressing onto your lips in shock at the movement and at the breath you sucked in. Another wave of heat shot through you. You had to get out of this.

"Eddie," you said louder.

"Shhhh."

The audacity.

"Eddie, I need to move."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why?' Are you even awake?" You rapped your knuckles against his chest.

"Mhmm." He stretched his legs straight and angled his hips away from you. For reasons. The movement shifted you so that your upper body was more on top of him than next to him. "Why do you have to move?" His eyes were still closed. "You're warm and you smell good," he drawled.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest. This had to be some kind of nightmare or cruel joke. Your self preservation kicked into overdrive as you started to wiggle away from him. His hand left your back, and you pushed away from him and sat up, burying your face into your shaking hands. Something landed on the mattress behind you, making you jump. When you looked back, you saw that it was Eddie's arm laid across where you had just been. He was looking at you.

"Why did you move?"

What?

His eyes landed on the patch of exposed skin above your sleep shorts, and it took everything in him to stay his fingers as they hovered over it, itching to touch you. "Come back."

Your stomach clenched at his words. If only you noticed where is hand was. "Eddie, are you sure you're awake?"

Your eyes blew wide and you gasped when he sat up, leading you to turn back ahead, unable to process anything that was happening. It was so silent in the room, the only sounds you could hear were your heartbeat in your ears and his breathing. He watched you for a few moments then realized you weren't going to say anything or do anything, so he pulled himself up further and turned on the bed so that he was almost in front of you. If your eyes shifted barely to the right, he would be all you could see, but you couldn't do it. With a soft nudge of his knee against yours, your breathing picked up and the lump in your throat grew thicker as the sting in your eyes built. You didn't even realize you were shaking your head until you froze when his finger hooked under your chin and he guided your head toward him. You couldn't look at him, so you closed your eyes.

His voice with your name pierced the silence once.

Twice.

His thumb brushed against your chin. Fuck.

There was The Line. For years you had spent so much time and energy not even thinking about touching it, let alone stomping across it like the two of you were doing now. The air felt different, something had shifted, and it was terrifying because you still couldn't see which way the pendulum swung. Was he touching you like this simply because he wanted your attention? Wouldn't be the first time that had happened, but not quite like this. Surely you shouldn't read into it, but the pain in your throat bloomed when he said your name again.

"Eddie, if I look at you, I'm going to break," you whispered thickly. Your hands gripped behind your knees, which were pulled up halfway.

He moved on the bed again so that he was fully seated in front of you now. "You think so?"

You took in a breath when his fingers wrapped around your ankle, thumb brushing softly against your skin on the joint. The gesture, you assume, was meant to be soothing, to be reassuring, but not much solace lived in his touch at that moment. At least, not until he continued with, "Nah, you won't. You're too strong to break."

You scoffed. His voice was too low, too confident, too soothing, and you almost believed it, but no. "I'm really not," you breathed out as you made a move to swing your legs off the bed and leave the room, but his hold on your ankle tightened and he said, "Don't. Please."

Now your heart was really hammering in your chest and you felt hot all over. "Let me g-- " you started to spit out and pry his hand from you ankle, but he interrupted you:

"Do you like me?"

You snatched your hand away from him as if he burned you and you felt like you were going to pass out as that question echoed in your head. "Eddie, don't ask me that. Please don't." The side of your finger bitterly brushed away a tear that suddenly broke containment, and you looked anywhere but at his face.

"Jesus Christ, please say you do, because I can't take it anymore."

What did he just say?

You looked him dead in the eyes at that. Light had started to filter through the room as daybreak flirted with its arrival, revealing the apprehensive look on Eddie's face, but his big brown eyes were hopeful as he chewed on his nonexistent nails.

"Like you?" you said in soft exasperation, and you couldn't help but laugh at that question. Fear flashed across his face for a moment and he pulled back from you before you continued, "Eddie, I fucking adore you." His mouth hung open. The will to fight against everything you felt for him left your body as the words spilled from you. "God, you don't even know how much time and effort I've put in trying to hide how much, but congratulations to me because this is officially too fucking much, and I understand that if you just want to still be friends, I can tr-"

"Stop stop stop."

Your heart was in your throat, but he looked shell-shocked as he scanned part of his room and dragged a hand across his smiling face. "Am I hallucinating? Is this real?"

All you could do was nod, your body buzzing as you waited for his reaction. The same tenderness that his eyes held earlier when he watched you rave over the song was back as he looked at you, really looked at you, and it was even more potent in such close range, even in the low light. He eagerly took your hand when you reached for his, letting his thumb move across your palm as he held it before he brought it up to his lips and kissed the concave flesh. Whatever unbearable combination of adoration, excitement, lust, and relief you felt doubled down when he pressed your hand to his face, reenacting what you had done earlier now with his blessing, eyes locked on yours as he whispered with a small smile, "I told you it was fine. More than fine."

The air crackled as Eddie held your hand there for a moment, his eyes taking on a new edge when you finally gave in and let your thumb drag so delicately across his worry-bitten bottom lip, and, god, it felt even softer than you imagined. His eyes fluttered closed for a beat, then he broke into another smile and lunged toward you, making you gasp and fall backwards against the mattress with a shrieking laugh. He was nothing but giddy smiles and peppered kisses all over your face as he pulled you back into his arms. You were surprised you didn't spontaneously combust where you lay as you hugged him close through the onslaught.

"God, I've waited so long to kiss this face," he admitted after he eventually pulled back and scanned your features in a way he hadn't allowed himself before, taking in what seemed like every detail. You had a permanent smile on your face, eyes threatening to spill over from happiness, but the way he looked at you made you swallow nervously and the pit in your stomach erupt in another wave of butterflies, especially when his gaze landed and lingered on your lips, the one place he hadn't kissed yet. Eddie looked back into your eyes, as if asking for permission. You nodded in response.

And then you kissed. Soft, slow, sweet, smiley, giddy, your hands in his hair, his hands on your back under your shirt, hearts racing to catch the bliss you both felt.

The new day brought a new life.

I hope you enjoyed this little series! Feedback/comments/reblogs highly appreciated <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x femme reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #how long pt3 #fics #who knew a little melodramatic blurb would snowball into three parts lol I'm not mad about it though #thank you to all who enjoyed/enjoy this and reblogged or left comments it means a lot

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