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dawnagustd · 1 year

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hours || jjk

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp and @monvante for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

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“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it.

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center.

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail.

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core.

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more.

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva.

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room.

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room.

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish.

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with.

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail.

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #thekpopuniverse #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #jungkook fanfics #fic: hours #sugakookitty

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eddiernunson · 3 months

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Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.

“Eddie, make me cum, please.”

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work.

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m counting on it.”

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.

“Don’t tell my wife.”

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive.

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.”

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”

“C’mon, Dyl–”

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?”

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”

“On it!”

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”

“Yeah. You want me to–”

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this.

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!”

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.”

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.”

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.”

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.” Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not done!”

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?”

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?”

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?”

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’

“Let me guess. Arlo?”

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”

“What?”

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”

“No way!”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?”

“Yup. Are you interested?”

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room.

Well, that’s a lie.

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible.

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?”

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.”

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–”

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?”

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.”

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking.

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”

“I fucking love you so much.”

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?

For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”

“M or H?” Kayla asks.

“M.”

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?”

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?”

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.”

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.”

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.”

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher, someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–”

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom.

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?”

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–”

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?”

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.”

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door.

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.”

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.”

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?”

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs.

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.

“Gross!”

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.

———————-

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #older eddie munson x you #older eddie munson x reader #older eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie

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snorky · 7 months

Text

Verbatim

Hey y’all! I’m posting another story today as well because I wrote the last story at the same time I wrote this one. I saw a particular image of Swayman with his November mustache, and I must say it suits him well (maybe I just like mustaches). The confidence he exuded at the 11/11 Bruins v. Canadiens game was *chefs kiss* and I loved it. Title inspired by the song "Verbatim" by Mother Mother, mostly the intro guitar part. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Jeremy Swayman x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None

—

The chilly, familiar, cold Boston air came rolling in, making the apartment seem much more frigid than it had to be. Although it was her favorite time of the year, when alluring holiday lights were hung on street lamp posts, and the scent of baked goods seemed to linger around, the cold air was rather uninviting compared to the other joys of winter.

It reminded her of sweet childhood, full of color and happiness and innocence in a swirl of hot cocoa, dashes of marshmallows and with whipped cream on the top. As she grew into adulthood, that childhood never seemed to go away since she met Jeremy.

She shared an apartment with Jeremy, her friend since university, and it helped cut some costs off of the heart-issue-inducing price of rent in the area, although to compromise, she wanted to help with groceries and chores as much as she could.

“Hey, Jeremy—” She closed the door behind her with her foot, her hands occupied with the task of carrying paper grocery bags. “Let me know if we need any winter supplies.”

He was always a friend, first. He was someone she cared about much more than just someone she lived with and split rent. They both inspired each other to grow better, never putting one or the other down, but always uplifting each other.

Turning around the corner, he stood in the kitchen with his back turned to her, cooking up a simple lunch for the both of them. “I’ll let you know, but I don’t think Boston winter is going to be too rough this year.”

“They say that every year, until one day in the middle of winter, we suddenly get a foot of snow,” she sighed.

He turned around, placing the sandwiches down on the counter, and helped her with some of the groceries. She looked up at him and became startled, “Jeez, Swayman—” Her arms quickly grabbed the groceries that she had almost dropped. “What did you do?”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. A dopey smile was plastered on his face. “Forgot to tell you that I was keeping the ‘stache for ‘Movember’ and I’m surprised that you just noticed it now.”

She felt slight embarrassment in not noticing, but it wasn’t every day that she stared at his face constantly, at least, she thought. “Well,” she paused before speaking again. “You know what, yeah.”

Grabbing the bags of produce and vegetables, she put them in a colander and began to rinse them in the sink as he put the other foods into the refrigerator. The thought of him having a mustache was new to her, especially since he was either clean-shaven or had a slight scruff. Taking a peek at him, she observed it, settling down on the idea that it wasn’t too bad.

“Do I have something on my face?” He laughed. Noticing her flustered expression, he gave her a slight smirk. “Ohh.” Closing the fridge behind him, he walked slightly closer to her. “It’s the mustache isn’t it?”

She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him on the surface, but it was evident that there was a live wire spitting sparks into the air between them.

The late weeknights when it was Jeremy’s rest days, spent on the couch with her, watching their favorite TV show with a bowl of Chipotle. Or the times when she made post-game dinners for him, seeing the genuine smile in his eyes when he looked at her.

It made her do a double-take when thinking about him, and she tried so hard to not let it get to her. For Pete’s sake, he was her friend and roommate for years. And it’d be so, wrong, in many more ways she could explain, yet it was beyond easy to fall for him.

Looking her up and down, he noticed the heat that seemed to drift to her face and neck. “Definitely the ‘stache,” he laughed as he took a step back from her, grabbing his sandwich from the counter and walking to the stools on the island counter.

Oh, damn him. He knew the effect he had on her and she noticed it, but it felt like a jumble of mixed signals. Did he like her? Was he just teasing her? It was a whirlwind of mixed feelings and unsteady ground.

She brushed her feelings aside and grabbed one of the two sandwiches that he had made for the both of them and started to eat it, enjoying how pleasant it tasted. “This tastes pretty good,” she hummed.

“Thanks,” he responded, continuing to eat. “Tried out a new recipe.”

They both continued to eat in silence together, across the kitchen island from each other, the distance separating them. Awkward tension hung in the air as her feelings about him were slightly revealed, but not enough so that he knew something was definite. He moved his gaze from his sandwich to her, observing her like a hawk.

“I’ll do dishes, go relax after you finish your food.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Why?” she asked. It confused her as to why he wanted her to relax, especially out of the blue. “What’d you do?”

“You got the groceries and I think that you should just rest.” He smiled.

She hummed in response, content with the idea of relaxing on the couch after running some errands. “Thanks,”

Finishing up their sandwiches, Jeremy grabbed both of their plates and placed them in the dishwasher as she went out to the living room. Laying face-down on the couch, she let out a long exhale, relaxing her muscles and body.

“Long day?”

“Your mustache is unbearable,” she groaned.

He laughed at her, “I think you like it.” Crouching down to be at eye-level with her, he paused before he spoke softly, “Tell me what’s wrong,”

She turned her head to look at him, his face drawn with light concern. “What?”

“I can see it, you have something you want to say. And it’s not about my facial hair,”

Time seemed to slow as they remained in silence looking at each other. He searched her eyes for an answer to her silence. Was it in fear? Discomfort? Annoyance?

She held her pinky up to him, a symbol of keeping a promise. “Promise to continue helping me pay the rent?”

Jeremy let out a small laugh, considering how silly the request seemed, but at the same time, an odd feeling sunk within him when she said that. “Promise.” He wrapped his pinky finger around hers tightly.

Releasing a breath she didn’t know that she was holding, she buried her face into the couch, hiding from his gaze that he kept on her. “I think I like you,” she mumbled. Her face was hot with embarrassment, a mixture of fear and shame bubbling inside of her.

“Well I mean,” he paused briefly, “I hope you do, we split rent and live with each other twenty-four-seven if I’m not on road trips.”

“No—”

“Okay, I know what you mean, I was just messing with you.” He smiled. “Please look at me,”

She picked her head up off of the couch slowly, turning to look at him, he remained smiling, and it looked sweeter than before. He had the softest, precious-happy look in his eyes, the one that she’d see after a game win, but better.

His cheeks were dusted with a gentle pink tint, his face soft. “I like you as well. In the way of me wanting us to be more than friends,”

Smiling at him, she gently cupped his face, her thumb running over his cheek. It was the answer that she had preferred to hear from him, but it seemed better than she had initially thought, and it was relieving. Her own cheeks were a rosy shade, flustered and feeling all sorts of fuzziness.

“Let’s go out and grab dinner later this evening, my treat,”

“I’m sleepy though,” she sighed.

“You need a midday nap?” He asked as he stood up. “Cause if so, I’m grabbing some blankets and joining.” He let out an obnoxiously loud yawn, which she laughed at, as he walked away to grab the blankets from the closet.

This was routine for them from time to time since they were close, but it was slightly different now, knowing that they both felt like they were more than friends. When he came back, he gave her a few blankets and then laid on the couch beside her, head in her lap.

“We’re going on a date tonight, so let’s get some rest.” He let out another yawn, which in turn, caused her to yawn.

“What? A date?”

“The best for the best,”

She smiled softly at him, adoring his genuineness. Her hand drifted to his hair, playing with it gently as he drifted off to sleep, and shortly after, she started to fall asleep as well, peacefully in his presence, together.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #boston bruins #nhl fic #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman imagine #boston bruins imagine

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3terna15unshin3 · 10 months

Text

Touch

Who will be the first to break?

2704 words

warnings: !! 18+ !! smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, very minimal editing (sorry)

—

a/n: Not requested but last time i posted smut y’all really liked it lmfao😭😭 I also felt sufficiently inspired to write a mutual masturbation tbsg blurb bc of tdab pt 2 by the iconic @lottiecrabie and also this fic that i love by @wrongendofurcigarette <33333 thank u for the inspo besties ok anyway hope u enjoy love u bye xo

(I wrote an entire 15 chapter fic of this universe! Read it here)

—

Matty was supposed to touch down on the tarmac around half nine. But as a symbol of his amazing luck, weather delays held him back and Este sat at home, impatiently waiting and jittering with anticipation. It was almost eleven in the evening and he still hadn’t arrived.

The months he’d been gone inched slowly by, and she only felt herself missing him more the closer his return date approached. Este started to feel like the floors of their home were colder in his absence. Like the lights were either too dim that she had to squint or too bright that it made her head throb. But sulking about it didn’t help—so she busied herself to make time go by faster.

She went on runs with Keiko. Wrote her weekly pieces twice as fast. Read double the amount of novels. Dipped her right hand into her knickers and thought about Matty. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with his virtual company; always hearing him whine about how much better Este felt around him in comparison to his fist.

There was usually food ready to satisfy his hungry post-flight state, but because of the late hour, he insisted that Este shouldn’t bother. He didn’t want to waste time eating. If I get hungry then I’ll just eat her, thought Matty during his Uber home.

She was on the brink of falling asleep when Matty sent her a message to let her know that he would pull up at any second. Her body sprung up and ran to wait in the doorway before she could even process the words. There were butterflies pounding at her chest purely at the way the approaching headlights hit the pavement. She leaned on the doorframe and attempted to appear cool and collected. Then, an idea came to mind.

He pretty much tackled Este into an embrace when he finally walked up. They waddled into the house and breathed in each other’s scents. “Hi baby,” Matty whispered, pulling his face away to bring her lips to his.

But, only millimetres before they could graze, Este inched away. She had on a mischievous smirk instead, letting Matty feel her hot breath on his skin as she exhaled.

Worry grew in his mind. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, love,” Este shook her head, backing away even more to grab the bags his hands gripped to bring them to their bedroom. A smirk still sat on her lips as he cluelessly followed behind her confident steps. “I was just thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve touched me.”

His throat immediately dried up as he caught on to what she was doing. Este knew they were both desperate for one thing—but wanted him to prove how bad he wanted it.

“Yeah, fuck. It’s been ages. So let me,” Matty begged, reaching to caress her jaw. She was quick to dodge.

“But don’t you ever wonder how long we can make it? Before we break?”

Este’s hips swayed back and forth purposefully as she took the claw clip that sat on her bedside table. In a few swift manoeuvres, she threw her dark hair up and secured it there. He watched her hands work meticulously and adored the way the shorter wavy pieces fell out of the clip and dangled next to her face. What he didn’t adore was that he could now see so much of her neck, and that she surely wouldn’t let him kiss it.

“What are you doing?” He asked gingerly.

It was a rhetorical question. You know exactly what I’m doing, thought Este.

“Posing a question, ‘s all.” She answered, walking back around the bed to exit their room and head to the kitchen. Matty followed, of course.

Their feet padded down the stairs. “Don’t do this to me, E. Please,” he finally vocalised.

It took everything in her to leave him hanging for the couple of seconds it took to fetch the bottle of red she’d been saving. She uncorked it and took a swig, repressing the want (more like need) to pounce onto him like a cat.

“First one to touch loses.”

"Fine. Game on."

—

They brought the bottle of wine over to the sofa and took turns sipping it. To not be as tempted, they even sat on opposite ends. Out of reach.

It wasn’t until then that Matty realised she was wearing a pair of his boxers as shorts. She had to roll over the waistband a couple of times to stop them from falling off her hips, but they still fit loosely. The way Este was scrunched up—clearly trying to make herself comfortable within the couch cushions—made the boxers tug lower. Matty peered at the skin low on her hips and made the assumption that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. God. If he yanked them down her thighs there would be nothing between him and her cunt.

He adjusted his pants, growing hard at the thought. Not a great way to play if he wanted to win.

Este was just as hot and bothered as him, but was just a bit better at hiding it. She stared at his hand that gripped the remote, flicking through the options on Netflix mindlessly (though he couldn’t care less about what was on the telly). The veins on the back of his hand flexed, and Este’s eyes watched. She then trailed them upwards on his arm and took note of how sculpted they were. Had they always been that big? she thought. Bloody hell.

As if on perfect cue, Matty scooched himself lower, now almost fully on his back to relax. He threw an arm up and behind his head, hand cradling the back of his neck. The action flicked the bottom hem of his t-shirt upwards, forcing the ink on his skin to be exposed to the air. His hips rose and wiggled back and forth before he sealed the comfy action with a quick yawn. Of course he chose to do it while he saw Este’s head turned to him instead of the television, feeling the burn of her gaze. Any other day, she’d be on his lap in seconds.

Her breathing quickened. It was a bit embarrassing that something so simple could drive her insane—so she briefly used her hands to cover her reddening face. Holding out as a strategy clearly wasn’t going well. So, Este thought of what might speed things up.

“Gonna go for a wee. You know what wine does to me,” she suddenly announced, getting up and running to the toilet. Sure, she really did have to go. But once she finished, she decided to leave the boxers on the bathroom floor instead of pulling them back on.

Walking back into Matty’s line of sight, now only clothed with a black baby tee that hugged her torso and nothing on her bottom half, Este stopped in front of him to bend down and grab the bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table. She turned around to face him and locked her eyes with his as she took a swig.

His mouth fell open for the few seconds he maintained the eye contact, but soon let his focus fall down her body, ultimately stopping at her bare pussy. He watched the space below her belly button expand and contract as she slowly breathed in and out. He even saw her thighs clench together. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought. This is torture.

“My eyes are up here,” commented Este playfully, breaking the trance he was clearly stuck in, and then returning to her corner of the sofa.

“Fuck off,” Matty confidently responded with a scoff, though she could tell from the small smile of defeat on his face that she’d caught him off guard. “Didn’t have the balls to leave the shirt behind too, huh? Only my boxers?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do you want it gone? In that case—”

Matty then watched the small black article of clothing hit the floor, leaving Este completely nude & no more than a metre out of his reach. The same Este he hadn’t touched in nine weeks.

A smug look stared back at him as he thought of ways to one-up her. He couldn’t just copy and strip, like her. It had to be something more. So, he reached into his pants—still looking at her in the eye—pulling his cock out. Why beat around the bush? It was already red and hard, begging to be touched. And since he couldn’t touch her, he touched himself instead.

Este refused to look away. She couldn’t. Her brown eyes were locked onto his fist that tugged slowly up and down his length. Subconsciously, she swiped her bottom lip with her tongue.

“Look at you, licking your lips. Wishing it was your mouth,” taunted Matty, “You don’t even want me to touch you. You want to touch me, baby. You love it when I fuck your face.”

He watched her writhe and sigh in dissatisfaction, seeing that Este knew he was right. Her hand inched down to her throbbing and exposed clit, finally daring to apply some pressure and whining in relief.

“You’ve got quite the ego on yourself, Healy,” she squeaked, trying not to moan at her fingers circling her clit with haste. “You’ll be begging to cum in my mouth. Touch me first and maybe I’ll let you.”

Matty’s hips bucked upwards as he matched the speed of his pumps to that of Este’s hand against herself. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure and fantasy.

Waiting until she saw his stare reconnect with hers, Este teased her fingertips south to her entrance. It was slick with wetness and desperate to be filled. Siding two fingers in, her jaw dropped open, and her hips rocked upwards to feel them deeper. A gasp escaped her lips. She let out a shaky groan when they bottomed out and yearned for them to be Matty’s instead.

“Mine don’t fill me up the way yours do.”

The sounds of both her fingers moving in and out of her cunt and him fucking his fist radiated throughout the room, overtaking whatever Netflix show Matty settled on. Both moving in sync.

“Come over here and sit on me, then. I can fuck you better than that,” he coerced.

Watching through his half-shut eyelids, he thought, I bet her wrist is tired. She’ll give in soon. But by then it was less of a thought and more of a prayer.

“But that would mean you’d win,” Este pointed out the obvious. “And I can’t let that happen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Turn to me, E. I need to see more of you,” commanded Matty.

She listened and pivoted, spreading her thighs even further. She arched her back off of the sofa when her fingers grazed a certain spot, making her hold back what she knew would have been Matty’s name slipping past her lips. Her thumb rubbed furiously at her clit simultaneously. Surely he’ll touch me if I come, considered Este, chasing her high.

His lip was pinned between his teeth as he continued watching her. Her sopping pussy was in full view, making Matty think of what it felt like around him. The way she’d clench her walls just before he was about to cum and how it would always get him there faster. How easily he could make that familiar sensation a reality if he’d just give in.

Studying Este’s chest, where her other hand sat and fiddled with her hard nipples, Matty saw how quickly it heaved up and down. Her breaths were laboured. A layer of sweat glistened on her forehead and her gaze struggled to pin onto him. She’s close, he discovered.

“You’re almost there, darling. I know that arm of yours is tired. I’d have you cumming in seconds if you just come over and let me win,” he whispered desperately.

Este moaned at his words, speeding up her fingers. “So are you,” she pointed out, “and if you cum in your—fuck, Matty—if you cum in your hand, you won’t get to cum inside me.”

She made a good point. He sped up to match her, thrusting his hips up to meet his hand faster.

“Then come here and sit on me,” whined Matty, still not giving in, frustrating Este. Resentment for her silly game grew. If he wouldn’t let her win now, she had to do more. The visual wasn’t enough. She had to beg for it. Literally.

“Please, baby! I feel so fucking empty. I need you to fuck me now. Riding you won’t be enough. I need you to come over here and hold me down and fuck me—shit! Rail me so hard that we forget our own names. Need to feel you deeper than I ever have. Do whatever you want to me, please, Matty. I’ll do anything—”

Her voice pushed him over the edge. He didn't care about the stupid game anymore.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever moved so fast in his life; climbing over to Este’s side of the sofa. She gasped when she felt Matty’s hands grip her hips to pull her closer, not giving her any time to adjust before sinking himself into her cunt.

They groaned in unison, the feeling they were chasing hit them even harder after the painstaking period of forbidden touch. She felt every inch of him against her walls, pressing a hand into her lower stomach to feel him there too.

“Is this what you wanted?” he intensely spat at her, beginning to pound into her with no avail.

Matty’s hips slammed together with hers over and over, lighting the fire in Este’s core. Her mind went hazy with pleasure and she struggled to even answer him. Her jaw was stuck agape and the only things he could hear out of her were frenzied and pornographic moans.

“Yes, fuck, yes. Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” she cried.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he felt his climax approach too. But he couldn’t keep them shut for long, as he craved the sight of her beneath him, still tirelessly swiping at her clit. Her breasts bounced up and down at the force of Matty’s hips, which now buckled with a messy rhythm. The hair that stuck to her wet forehead was swiped away by a finger of his, getting it out of the way, needing the full view of Este’s face.

“Cum for me, E. I thought about this every night when I was gone. Couldn’t hold back any longer—fuck—you win. This pussy is mine. So perfect for me,” Matty egged.

Este let go and the notorious clench of her walls pushed him to do the same. The warmth deep inside her signalled that Matty had shot his hot seed into her, groaning and worshipping her name as he did. She reached up to yank on his curls and saw stars for a moment, the pure euphoria carrying her high in pleasure like she’d never seen before. He gave her exactly what she’d been needing, those nights alone. Nobody could fuck her like him.

Her stomach immediately felt like jello in the aftershock of her orgasm. They both panted into each other's mouths, slick with sweat, giddy smiles on their faces. Matty’s arms gave out, laying on top of her gently, still twitching inside of her. He didn’t have an ounce of extra energy to pull out. Not that he really wanted to, anyway.

“What’s my prize?” Este asked, throat rough from the screaming she’d just done.

Matty glanced at the TV, where the time was displayed. 00:28. They hadn’t even lasted half an hour at her ‘game’.

“I reckon I can make you cum three more times before we fall asleep?” he suggested.

“Deal,” she agreed, “Or you can fuck my face like you mentioned. Up to you,” finished Este with a giggle.

His eyes widened in shock, hiding his face in her neck as they both laughed.

“Might need a bit of time to, you know, recharge before we get to that. But I am not passing up on that offer.”

#tbsg #meste blurb #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #smut #matty healy smut #blurb

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bibittybopittybadbxtch · 3 months

Text

Colors

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Word Count: ~ 1.1K

Warnings: None…I think

A/N: I’m on a SVT kick. So….here’s another Wonwoo fic. Love him so much. The sweetest. I hope y’all enjoy! This was so much fun to write. I also kinda wanna turn this into a series….let me know your thoughts. I love hearing from y’all. The first part is inspired by Colors by Halsey. There’s also a couple of disney quotes sprinkled in.

NOT MY GIF‼️‼️‼️‼️

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

XOXO, Bibi🩷

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your last relationship had come into your life like a hurricane. He settled over you for a while, but in the end you were just another casualty. You were red and he was blue, a combination that created a beautiful lilac. Until he decided that purple just wasn't for him. He left destruction in his wake. You were left to pick up your own broken pieces, and learned how to live with the scars on your heart. For a while you were just a shell of the person you were before him. But after a year, you were stronger. You held your head higher, shoulders back, all the things your therapist taught you. You were learning how to enjoy your life on your own until you met someone new, Wonwoo.

“One date. If you still hate the idea of dating me after that, I promise I’ll leave you alone.” Wonwoo looked two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging. He had sworn he did not believe in “love at first sight” until he saw you. As cliche as it sounds the sight of you was like looking into the sun. He’d told you so himself. To which you rolled your eyes in a very ladylike fashion and walked away. Back to the moment at hand, he had been asking you out for months. You were friends and he always presented date ideas in a respectful, light hearted manner but you knew he was serious. His eyes never told a lie. Looking up into those big brown orbs it broke your heart to say no to him once again. “Wonwoo, no. I told you. I don’t wanna jeopardize our friendship.” He hadn’t seen you before. He only knew the new and improved you. You feared that opening up to him would agitate old wounds. You had lost enough people over the years and weren’t willing to lose Wonwoo too. “Come on Sunshine, you know that wouldn’t happen. We won’t let it.” Despite what you thought to be your better judgment, you said yes.

First dates were awkward. Common knowledge, basic fact, first dates felt like having chicken pox. Except this was Wonwoo, and of course it wasn’t awkward. He was still your dorky best friend. He knew you, better than you knew yourself. He took you to a drive in movie. You sat in the car and cracked jokes and threw popcorn at each other. The night ended with ice cream and Wonwoo walked you to your door. “So..am I gonna get another date?” He asked hopefully. You saw his ears tinge pink under the porch light. You pretend to think about it. Just to watch him squirm before you smile at him, “Yes, I´d actually really like that”. The smile that stretches across Wonwoo’s face is forever burned in your memory. He sweeps you into a hug, before bidding you goodnight. That night you call your best friend, you recount every moment in detail. She knows before you do that you’re falling in love.

Wonwoo picks you up the following Friday, a beautiful bouquet of daisies in his hand.”You ready Sunshine?” He asks as he takes your hand. “Well, I’d say yes but I don’t know where we are going.” He chuckles and leads you to the car before opening the door, “Do you trust me?”. “With my life,” you reply earnestly as you get in the passenger seat. Trusting him was the easiest thing you had ever done. From the moment you met him Wonwoo had been nothing but reliable. It didn’t matter if it was 2am or snowing, he found a way to be there for you. Never one to disappoint, that was Wonwoo through and through.

When the car finally comes to a stop after an hour's drive to the outskirts of the city, the sight in front of you almost makes you cry. You were at a sky lantern festival. At the beginning of your friendship, you had mentioned how you wanted to go to him. He remembered. “Wonwoo..” you begin, you don't know what you had to say. Wonwoo just looks at you and smiles warmly before getting out of the car. You're unbelievably touched. Wonwoo was by all means not an outdoors person, but the fact he held on to your words and went out of his way, brings tears to your eyes. After retrieving your lanterns the two of you find a space on the large expanse of grass. You both sit down and start decorating your respective lanterns when an idea hits you. You grab your notebook from your bag and rip out a page. Wonwoo looks over at you puzzled, “What are you doing?” “Let’s make a wish. Write your wish on the paper, when the wish comes true we tell each other.” Wonwoo agrees because how could he ever say no to you. You finish your lanterns and release them at the end of the festival, wishes tucked safely in your respective pockets. That night when Wonwoo walks you to your door, he asks you to be his girlfriend.

Two years later Wonwoo takes you back to the same field that held the lantern festival, and proposes. In the ring box, there is a small piece of paper that you recognize from a notebook that has been long forgotten. You recognize Wonwoo’s chicken scratch. “Y/N” with a small heart. “Sunshine, you were always my wish. Will you marry me?” You launch yourself at him sobbing. “So, is that a yes?” he asks cheekily. “In every language. Oui, Si, Ja, Yes.”

On the car ride home, Wonwoo sees you digging around your bag for something. “What are you looking for?” “Hold on. I know it's in here somewhere.” You bring out your wallet before unzipping it. You shuffle around for a second before pulling out a small piece of paper. “What’s that?” Wonwoo asks as he glances over before returning his attention back to the road. “My wish” you state proudly. “Oh yeah? What was your wish?” You flash him your brightest smile before unfolding it and showing him. There is your delicate handwriting. He sees his name “Wonwoo” with a smiley face. Wonwoo swears his heart is gonna explode. “You made me believe in love again. You restored my faith in humanity. You made me whole.” You tell him through your tears. Wonwoo pulls the car over and cradles your face, wiping your tears. “No, Sunshine. You did that all by yourself. I’m just here to appreciate your hard work.” He kisses you.

#wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #svt #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svtgifs #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo

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roosteraloha · 6 months

Text

delightful ❄️

Bradley Bradshaw × Reader

wc - 1.9k

warnings - FLUFF, talks of seasonal depression & spending the holiday season alone.

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

a/n - this fic is part of the wonderful @sailor-aviator’s Christmas Challenge!! this is my first writing challenge & my first seasonal fic! hope y’all enjoy this one 🤍 title is taken from ‘let it snow’ ❄️

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Christmas. The holiday season that everyone around you seemed to love. You however struggled this time of year, being so far away from what little family you had left was never easy on a regular day, holidays just amplified that longing - something Bradley could relate to all too well.

You couldn’t lie, you loved how the twinkling Christmas lights helped to cheer in the cold, dark nights. But you dreaded being alone, when everyone around you couldn’t stop raving about going home for the holidays and growing more and more excited, while your seasonal depression worsened.

At the first mention of tnr holiday season, Bradley was expecting you to be full of seasonal cheer, but in a way was gladly surprised that you too had lacked the stereotypical family atmosphere during the holidays. He lost both his parents and have a very fractured relationship with Maverick, his only real family, which led to many years he spent the entire holiday season alone. You had very little family left, those who you did have, an estranged aunt and uncle you barely knew, lived halfway across the world. The relationship between you was basically nonexistent, and there was no way ok your meagre salary, that you could afford to fly out to spend the holidays with them.

When you had met Bradley, you were initially cautious of his attitude towards the holiday period. There was no way you could be in a friendship or a relationship with someone who lives and breathes the season. You wouldn’t be able to stand it. You heart lifted when it was revealed that Bradley had the same attitude as you, he wasn’t going to try and change you and your feelings. Instead, he’d respect them and let you celebrate however much or little you wanted.

When December arrived, you immediately became much more gloomy and irritated. You didn’t need to look at the calendar to know the reasoning behind your sudden distaste for everything and everyone around you. The nights grew longer and darker, and you felt less and less like yourself. Bradley had severely underestimated how much you disliked the holidays, assuming you were just being over dramatic like you were known to be on subjects you felt strongly about. He swore that his heart physically hurt knowing how much you hated the holidays, the switch from your usual chipper routine, to barely being able to drag yourself out of bed for work.

You sighed heavily, collapsing onto the sofa, ignoring the snort from Bradley at your dramatics. “What now?” He chuckled, you got very dramatic around stressful situations, and the holiday season was the highlight. Truly he did care about how you were doing, but he only found amusement in these situations due to the one time you broke down crying laughing at how badly you’d overreacted over a tiny trivial thing, he knew you’d never take offence to his laughter.

“I completely forgot that everybody decides to do their Christmas shopping so incredibly last minute!! Like, why are you shopping for presents the week before the holidays?!” You huffed dramatically, unable to withhold your laughter at Bradley’s expression, trying desperately to hold a straight face while you acted out your day. “I don’t know, baby. But I’m thankful for them providing me with this entertainment.” You gasped in faux outrage at his words, grabbing a pillow from beside you and throwing it in his direction without looking, yelling in victory when you heard him yell at the unanticipated contact.

Bradley was cautious about voicing his next statement, already anticipating you to blow up at him, but being polite like his mother raised him to be, “Y’know, you shouldn’t be cooped up in your tiny apartment for Christmas.” He held the cushion in front of him, a pathetic attempt at a shield from your incoming wrath. Eyes widening at your sudden silence, he was quick to add, “Bub…I just meant, I also have to spend the holidays alone, in this big empty house.” He’s by your side now, hands running placatingly on your arms. “What if we spend it together? We can pick out a tree from that lot that Bob can’t stop raving about, you can teach me to bake those cookies we talked about, maybe just make it like any other day, if that’s what you really want?”

Your tense expression melted, tears seeking up in your eyes, not entirely certain whether it was due to the season, or your loving, highly attentive to detail boyfriend’s reaction and creation of alternatives for you, other than your entirely more depressing current tradition of spending the day in your bed, pillow over your head and duvet pulled over you.

Bradley froze at your sudden emotional breakdown. Presuming he had spoken out of turn and instead of pissing you off, had broken your heart, something he swore to himself and his parents that he would never do to you. Internally panicking momentarily, relaxing when you merely snuggled closer to him, curling up on his lap, your head buried in his neck.

The house was cold. That was the first thing you noticed when you got to Bradley’s late after your shift on Christmas Eve. You lived in San Diego. It did not get this cold, ever. Frowning, you trudge through the entryway, kicking off your shoes, then wincing as your socked feet meet the cold tiled floor. You called out for Bradley, he had texted you before you left work, asking you to come over, you assumed for a quick present swap. He had been ignoring your texts and calls since you gave him confirmation that you would be there. He must’ve turned the air conditioning down as low as it could go, which in summer would have been luxurious, but now?

Now, the drizzle and gloom outside was continued indoors, which kept you frowning as you move through the house looking for Bradley.

Hearing soft humming of Christmas songs from the kitchen, you scurry through the house, keeping your feet off the cold floor as best you could. You’d have to get Bradley to fix the AC. “Woah! Stop there! Close your eyes, this is a surprise, sweetheart!” You groaned, reluctantly closing your eyes, feeling a warm presence move in front of you, a soft kiss being pressed to the top of your head as a soft silk is tied delicately over your eyes.

“Bradley…” you whine softly, trusting him, but clueless as to where this was going. He chuckled, his breath fanning gently onto your cheek, a welcome warmth from the chill in the air. Rubbing his hand up and down your arms, appreciative that you were still in your thin work uniform, trying to warm you back up as best he could, “I’m gonna lead you upstairs, then I’m changing you into something warmer, okay?” You whined at the sheer unknown, but gave into the significant trust you had in your boyfriend.

He carefully pulled off your uniform, his warm hands welcome against your cold skin, goosebumps erupting down your arms. A soft, fleecy, warm shirt was pulled up your arms, and Bradley buttoned it up with immense care and precision. Next were the fleecy pants, which you felt were too long for you, and giggled as Bradley pulled on a fresh pair of fuzzy socks. You squealed as Bradley scooped you up bridal style, peppering your face with soft kisses, chuckling at your soft laughter.

Downstairs, he places you gently onto the couch, greeted now by a warmth the room lacked when you arrived. Warm breath fans gently across your cheek as Bradley gently unties the blindfold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light. The room is bathed in a soft warm light, the scraggly tree you both had picked out and decorated the week before was twinkling softly, but wasn’t what made your eyes well with tears. The fireplace that usually stayed empty due to the warm California weather, was crackling with fresh logs, the fire casting a warm and cosy glow over the entire room.

There was also an extra stocking hanging from the mantle. Where usually there were just three - Goose, Carole and Bradley - there was one with your name lovingly hand stitched, matching the theme of the original trio. Swallowing thickly you glance at Bradley who shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don't mind if I spend it with you. Share old traditions…Maybe make some of our own…”

Throwing yourself at him, you hug Bradley tightly. It had been mentioned only in passing that growing up you never had your own stocking like most children, and your only happy holiday memory was spending quality time snuggled together with your family in front of the fireplace.

Bradley ran a soothing hand across your cheek, wiping away the tears you were unaware had started to fall. You had never had someone pay such attention to minute details you shared, not expecting them to remember them months later.

But Bradley was not someone from your past.

He is your future.

Several classic Christmas movies later, you were snuggled closely against Bradley’s side, under one of the seasonal blankets he ‘allowed’ you to keep at his place, It’s a Wonderful Life playing in the background. Your half drunk mugs of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table alongside platters of sweet treats Bradley had bought just for the two of you to share, alongside the decorated sugar cookies that the pair of you had made from an old recipe of Carole’s.

Humming contentedly, you crane your neck to glance up at the face of your loving boyfriend, feeling your eyes on him, he turns, kissing you lovingly, pulling you closer to him. “Happy?” You nod against his shoulder, “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years, Bradley.” He smiles softly at your words, “You know, if you wanted…” He shrugged, trailing off, frowning, you shift and straddle his lap to get a better look at him. “What? If I wanted to what?” Bradley shook his head, a bashful expression on face, narrowing your eyes, you grabbed his chin gently, forcing him to look at you again.

“I wanna spend every Christmas like this with you.”

“Every Christmas?”

He nods.

“Move in with me.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because I miss you when you’re not- Wait, yes?! You’ll move in?!” His expression frozen, not believing his ears.

Nodding and kissing him once, his eyes light up, grin taking over his face, laughing joyfully, tugging you close to his chest, covering your face in kiss after kiss after kiss. You join him in laughter at his reaction, tugging him down to lay on top of you, being lovingly overwhelmed by everything Bradley.

If this is how every Christmas would end up, snuggled up in front of a fireplace with the love of your life?

If this is what your future looks like, then you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Bradley.

#allina writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #tgm fanfiction #top gun maverick fic

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outro-jo · 9 months

Text

masterpiece (18+)

pairing: hwang hyunjin x amab reader

type: smut (minors and ageless blogs dni)

warnings: established relationship (hookup but not rly dating), kinda non-idol au, the reader’s gender is never explicitly mentioned just that they have a dick, hyunjin is called nicknames like pretty boy, sort of sub/dom dynamics, hyunjin is a brat (wbk), masterbation, mlm, anal, hand job, descriptions of readers cock and body, they come on a canvas idfk, implied second round

notes: wrote this for my friend’s birthday and thought i’d post it bc there are so few mlm and wlw kpop fics on here. when requests open up, please don’t request smut. i’m still not super keen on posting it 😅 but i hope y’all enjoy 🤍

please read info before requesting!

masterlist | info

————————————

hyunjin was thrilled about his new apartment. he loved after so many years of living in a dorm with a bunch of other guys to have a place he could finally call his own. finally he was able to decorate the way he wanted and fill the fridge with something other than plain, unseasoned chicken breasts. he could put flowers on his dining room table for the sun to cascade early morning light on. he could hang up art form other artist that inspire him and have furniture other than a couch left on the street and a weight lifting chair. most of all, he was thankful for a comforting place he could call home.

he had invited said other guys and some friends to a house warming party because he was just so excited to show the place off. you were surprised to get an invite but in all fairness, you would be getting invites to his place more often.

the two of you met at his usual cafe, when he was getting this third americano of the day and it unfortunately ended up on your shirt. what was less unfortunate was you choosing to wear a white shirt that day and the dark coffee soaked through, showing your toned torso. you were thankful you started seeing that new hot personal trainer at your gym once you saw the glint in hyunjin’s eyes and smirk he was unsuccessful in hiding as he took the flimsy napkins to your shirt. when he gave you his number, he intended to take you out as an apology but the both of you ended up liking staying in a lot better and it became bit of an occurrence to meet up at your place since he had roommates.

now you were getting a look at his place. you showed up only slightly late, (you couldn’t seem too eager) the door was open displaying the party going on inside. everyone was standing around talking with glasses full of red wine. hyunjin was mid-conversation with felix when he noticed you and rushed over.

“hey, you came!” he kissed you on the cheek.

“that’s what i said last week.” you mumbled in his hear, earning a playful smirk.

“cheeky… come on in!”

your gaze trailed the expanse of the apartment’s main living area, trying not to think about how good he looked. unbeknownst to you, hyunjin was doing the very thing you were avoiding, taking every inch of you in, sipping on his wine to seem less obvious to everyone else in the room that he was eye-fucking you. his interior design skills should be praised, finding the right balance of comfort and beauty, much like the man himself. neutral colored furniture appropriately accented the pops of color that came from the art on the walls and shelves. he had an artists eye, that much was obvious.

tonight there was something different. maybe it was something in the air or the way he dressed or something about the ease of which he carried himself in his own place, but even as the two of you parted, each respectively mingling with the other guests, you couldn’t help your gaze from landing on him. he looked damn good. half of his hair was loosely tied up on his head and a dark green linen button down was loosely tucked into a pair of slacks. a few of the buttons had been undone to show the tank top clinging to his body. thinly framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, raising slightly when he inevitably scrunched his nose in laughter. even when he was being cute hyunjin was driving you absolutely wild.

as the night progressed, you noticed the tightness in your pants having to tuck you dick up in your waistband when you excused yourself to the bathroom at one point. but it was no use and while you didn’t plan on anything happening that night and you had not received any indication of hyunjin hoping to hook up that night, you couldn’t help yourself. some of the invited guests slowly started to filter out and the host was ushering them out when you snuck off to a side room. you chose to leave the lights off, not bothering with them as you stumbled in the darkness, ripping off your belt and tugging you pants and boxers down your thighs just enough to pull your painfully hard dick out.

you slowly began to tease yourself, thinking of the way hyunjin had done it before, tracing the pronounced veins similar to the way his tongue had. he had looked so good on his knees for you, eyes wide and round to plead innocence while hardly performing an innocent task. a hard shudder ran down your back as you collected the wetness that had leaked from your tip to spread it across your girth—something you remember hyunjin commenting on when you first met up.

“i’ve never been with someone as thick as you before.” he breathed out in anticipation, his cheeks burning at the confession.

what he himself lacked in thickness was well made up for in length. you two were the perfect pair, completing what the other lacked. you thought about his long, pretty, pink dick as you stroked your own. wet, sloppy noises filled the room and you couldn’t help but moan softly. as good as your hand felt, you knew he felt so much better, thinking of when he had you in his mouth and once stretching out that cute little asshole. the way it gaped open from your size—

“ah, fuck… hyunjin, fuck!”

your ministrations didn’t come out as quiet as you hoped but thankfully it was sounding more quiet beyond the four walls of the dark room. stumbling back, lost in your pleasure, your hand instinctively landed on the table behind you and suddenly felt a little wet. if you had more of your wits about you, you might have notice the faint smell of paint that filled the air but you were too far gone in your bliss.

just a bit more. you were so close. the tightness in your stomach was building as the muscles contracted beneath you. your groans were coming out more strangled now as you felt yourself starting to tip over the edge. suddenly as you began your descent, the door opened and the light was flicked on. hyunjin propped himself up on the doorframe with an amused smile playing at his plush lips.

“i see you found my art studio.”

the newly lit room allowed for you to finally see where exactly you had stumbled into. different mediums, pallets, and tools scattered across the tables and a large canvas stood on an easel in front of you, dripping with… not paint. the wet you had felt before when you gripped on the table was a lovely shade of blue as you looked down at your hand to inspect it. your cheeks burned a nice crimson to compliment the color nicely.

hyunjin pushed off the doorjamb and stalked towards you, “if you wanted to paint all you had to do was ask, baby.” his tone was light and playful with a slight edge of condescension.

he leaned forward with both hands grabbing your jaw to inhale you into a rough kiss. without thinking, your blue stained hand reached up to grasp at the back of his neck. the force of hyunjin’s body against yours sent you back into the table but this time your opposite hand landed to support you and picked up a bit of green paint. without breaking the kiss, hyunjin removed his glasses and tossed them on the table behind you before pulling off his button down (not bothering to undo the buttons individually). your paint stained hand found purchase on his waist, turning the white tank he had tucked into his pants blue and green respectively. he moaned wistfully against you as he deepened the kiss, with his tongue searching for yours in your mouth. he tasted of the red wine he was sipping on earlier and smelled of his usual cologne that had you weak in the knees. his hand tucked in between your bodies, blindly reaching for your cock that began to quickly harden again at his touch.

hyunjin chuckled, breaking the kiss slightly with a smirk, “getting hard again, baby? i thought you just came.”

“thinking about fucking that tight little ass of yours again,” you told him, sliding your hand down to grab it with a light squeeze to make him jolt in your touch.

“well,” kiss, “what are you waiting for?”

god, this fucking brat. you groaned internally and externally before spinning hyunjin around. your hands made quick work of his belt and slacks as you reached around in front of you, letting the fabric drop to the floor. your wet cock teased his ass crack making his head fall back in your shoulder as he moaned. he was so fucking pretty. spit pooled in your mouth before you filled your hand and spread it between his cheeks, two fingers plunged into his right hole. hyunjin whimpered and rutted his bum into you, the ample mound of his cheek rubbing against your hard on.

“fuck,” you hissed.

“please, baby… i need you inside me.” hyunjin whined as you stretched him out.

you hummed, “i have to stretch you out, pretty boy,” you felt him clench around your fingers, “don’t wanna hurt you.” you placed kisses on his open mouth.

“please… i can take it.” he could feel his mind already going fuzzy as your fingers brushed up against his prostate.

“hmm, if you say so.”

you pulled your fingers out of him slowly, making him groan then placed a hand on his thigh, making sure to graze his hard, bouncing dick, before grabbing a hold of your own to slowly push into him. a frenzy of moans left hyunjin’s lips as he felt himself stretch around your girth. his walls welcomed you warmly as you bottomed out, his bum fully pressed against your hips. you hum, feeling fully content and pressed kisses to hyunjin’s exposed throat column as his head was resting on your shoulder. waiting just a moment for him to adjust to you, you reached your now free hand around to stroke him gingerly, earning another chorus of wanton moans.

“baby… please move,” he begged desperately.

slowly you complied, starting to match your strokes to sync with each other causing hyunjin to bury his face into your neck. his arms reaching up to grip a fistful of your hair and tugging. you hiss at the action. his whines get more high pitched as he pants warm breath on to your neck, raising goosebumps on the delicate skin. your thumb grazes over his sensitive tip which results in a jolt from him.

“fuck, i—, ugnnhh” any attempts hyunjin made at speaking were thwarted by your thrusts that began to increase in speed.

“what’s the matter, gorgeous? feel too good? my cock has you too dumb to speak… huh? that pretty head of yours all empty?” you teased him, watching the way his chest turned crimson.

“yes… yes, god!”

you could feel by the way he clenched around you and the way he throbbed in your hand that he was getting close, your own high not too far behind. your thrusts lost their precision as his hips rocked to meet yours. the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

“my beautiful artist…” you mused, pressing your lips to his shoulder. “you wanna paint with me? mix your cum with mine on that canvas? c’mon, pretty boy, i know your close. let go for me.”

with that, hyunjin’s hips stilled as he tensed up and pitifully grunted out. you held his dick up so that his release splattered all across the canvas over your own from before. when he finished, you pulled out of him, he instinctively cuddled into your side, as he usually does, and you came on the canvas once more. hyunjin in his post coital daze, was pressing kisses all over your neck almost in gratitude. as much as you loved the act of sex with hyunjin, you almost loved his afterglow more. he was always so cute and cuddly, wanting to be close to you and kiss you as much as possible.

you came down from your high with heavy pants, looking down at hyunjin with a lovesick smile that he easily returned then kissed off your lips. after a few moments, he separated and turned to look at your masterpiece.

“i’m glad i gessoed it black. you can see it better.” he mused softly.

you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “i think it’s your best work, baby.”

hyunjin playfully rolled his eyes, lightly slapping your chest as he finally reached down to grab his pants, exposing his ass to you, making you gasp and your eyes go wide.

“jinnie! i got paint…”

hyunjin threw his head back and laughed at your horror, “it’s ok. it’s a water based paint so it’ll wash out. wanna help me?”

“lead the way, picasso.”

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bamboozled-shenanigans · 2 months

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Hello I have come to fulfill your need for the "Alastor selling his soul to see his mother one last time" request.

So plz write to your heart's content about that request lol. Be it headcanons or a short fic or whatever! 😁

Note: AAAA THANK YOU! This has been eating at my brain for literally forever, and your post struck me with the inspiration I needed to finally get it on paper! This may be nonsense, but I hope y’all enjoy a bit of Alastor angst (featuring his poor, poor mother)

“So, Alastor, do we have a deal?”

Alastor took a deep breath, his heart threatening to tear itself free as he nodded. Lilith extended her hand, an expectant stare boring deep into his soul, the echo of her question hanging in the air.

Was this a mistake? Somewhere, perhaps in the part of his brain where his sense lay dormant, doubt crept into his thoughts. Would she even want to see you, after everything you’ve done? If the stories are correct, if the dead truly watch over their loved ones, does she know what has become of her child?

“Come on now, I don’t have all day.” The blonde woman’s voice grew impatient, her cold eyes like daggers piercing Alastor’s soul. “I am a very busy woman, you know.”

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Alastor muttered, shoving his inhibitions back where they couldn’t cause him to hesitate and swallowing his fear as he reached forward, sealing his fate with a handshake.

Lilith’s hand was colder than anything he’d ever felt. He grimaced as his fingers brushed the corpse-like skin of Hell’s queen, his arms made of lead as he shook once, then twice, then thrice.

Suddenly, a flash of green light burst through the air, so blindingly bright that Alastor cried out, squeezing his eyes shut against what felt like a thousand suns assaulting his vision.

When the spots faded from his vision, he opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering green haze, and the Queen was gone, replaced by a face that filled him with both love and dread as he gazed upon it.

“Ma?”

The woman before him was the same as he remembered, unmistakably his mother— the same curly hair still fashioned in the tasteful bun she’d worn all her life, the same deep brown skin, only a few shades darker than his own, the same wide eyes, eyes that were now filled with tears as she met the gaze of her only son.

“Alastor,” she whispered, stepping forward gingerly. “Alastor, est-ce vraiment toi?”

He nodded, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His mother reached forward, brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face, and her own expression crumpled as she let out a sob, pulling her child into a fierce hug.

“Alastor, my baby, you’re here! I can’t believe it, mon cher. How I missed you!”

Alastor couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her now, couldn’t confess to what he’d done after her untimely death, the lives he’d taken, the sins he committed. “Ma,” he repeated, burying his head in her shoulder, letting the tears roll down his face freely now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry?” His mother pulled back, still not fully letting go. “You have nothing to be sorry for, dear.” She smiled warmly, her beaming face feeling like another bullet to Alastor’s head. “Come now, let’s go— I have some folks who would love to meet you.”

He had to do it, didn’t he?

“I can’t.” A deep breath, let out shakily as he stepped back. “I’m so sorry. I… I can’t go with you.”

“…What?”

“I said I can’t.” A wave of guilt and regret washed over him. “I was a terrible, horrible man, Ma. I’ve gambled away my chance to see you one last time, to say farewell, and as soon as you turn away I’ll be sent to—“

“Don’t say it.” Her voice wavered, and she shook her head. “Don’t you dare… how could you?”

“I know.” Alastor looked away, at his hands, the same hands that had caused so much pain and death, the same that were now fading, replaced by sharp, red claws, pain creeping into his limbs as he began to transform, the hideous beast he was promised he’d become finally tearing its way out of his body.

He didn’t have much time. He looked into his mother’s eyes, those same eyes that had softened with worry as she patched up scrapes and bumps, that had sparkled with wonder as she read to him and flashed with worry when he cried- and all he saw now was pain.

“Je t'aime... et je suis vraiment désolé.”

The last thing he heard was his mother’s wail of desperation and grief as her son was wrenched away from her once more, chains wrapping around his wrists, the payment he’d promised Lilith burning a hole in his chest, fate dragging him down into the pits of hell, where his soul was always destined to stay.

All for a chance to say goodbye.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #alastor #alastor’s mom #alastor’s mother #hazbin fic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angst galore lol

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kaelatargaryen · 2 months

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Happy Monday lmao — hope y’all have had some time to process and figure out how you’re going to deal with what you’ve found out today, it wasn’t a good time.

All things considered, I got off pretty light. This is the meanest thing someone has to say about me? Cool

& I’ve seen some of the posts explaining all this, I’ve also gotten a message that said these are Bel’s words because she was jealous of someone else getting attention. These messages were sent to someone else to share with me but ultimately, they were still sent to me and I am the one choosing to share them so if Ange or Em, if you see this and don’t like it. Take it up with me, not them

This is the choice I’ve made, I do not believe Ange. She admitted that some screenshots were doctored and some were real, I fully believe this one to be the latter.

1. Bel didn’t unfollow me, we were mutuals up until I found out about the rat anons and I unfollowed her because it really bothers me to know she’d go that far for so long. We also didn’t stop interacting, in fact… she had me tagged for her Helen of Troy inspired Feyd fic recently and that wasn’t the first time she had me in a taglist for a fic. I often reblogged her fics and we interacted about them and the men involved. We became mutuals because of her fics and had been for like a year lmao — I very seriously doubt she was jealous

2. I say this very clearly, I do not think this because I think Bel is stupid but because I’ve seen that Ange has often used big vocabulary words in casual conversation and I’ve had enough conversations with Bel to know that despite her being in school and very smart, she would’ve been more likely to call me a bootlicker or a simp before she would’ve called me a sycophant.

3. This is not the first time Ange has unfollowed me and I did notice that she unfollowed me around the same time this comment was made because shortly after, my friend spoke of being in her discord server and I finally just mentioned that I don’t think Ange liked me.

We haven’t been mutuals so I’m not missing much and if she somehow proves that it was Bel, it doesn’t change anything tbh, I’ll just be a lil more disheartened by how fake some can be. This whole debacle is ugly and pathetic, especially coming from GROWN WOMEN. This went on for months, damn near almost a year and the thing that exposed it is that Bel & Fae got friendly with people Ange & Em didn’t like???? That’s the ONLY reason and y’all think it fucking matters who said what??? It’s ALL bad and I’m done with all of you. Y’all have some serious soul searching and growth to do, I hope you begin after this.

I’m gunna enjoy this fandom and the lovely people I’ve met, I’m tired of y’all’s black cloud asses ruining it and I won’t let you fuck with my vibes or change who I am. To everyone who messaged me, I fucking cherish you and I’m so thankful for those of you who made sure I knew she was wrong about me, especially when their own names had been mentioned. That’s community. That’s what happens when people care about each other as people and not just the attention they offer online.

Happy season 2 bitches, we’re gunna have so much fun 💚🖤

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #fandom tings #✌🏼✌🏼✌🏼

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peachdues · 4 months

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Hi Peach!

I have been trying to spend less time on Tumblr right now but I got some very bad family news and decided to treat myself to your blog and I’m really cheered up!

That teaser you posted and the fact we are getting a super emotional reunion✨second time✨ in TGW as well as a ✨first time✨ before we get to the aftermath of Tengen’s spicy lessons. Thank you for the meal

‘You’ve no idea, while I was gone I thought endlessly of you’ - I’m sorry it’s so emotional I won’t be able to take it I love him so much 😭

This may be spoiler territory (if it is tell me to shooosh) but will we see any of Giyuu’s POV thinking about reader in the infinity castle? 👀👀

AND NETHERWOOD Sanemi j*rking off and you saying we will be mad at him, reader about to leave him to go to a new village my heart is breaking, Peach you are such an awesome write - I’m still having fun trying to decipher your teaser images btw.

I was wondering between Kanae and Reader did Nemi have other girlfriends in between as he is super experienced with women

I know your inbox is sky high and even if you just see this message, I’ve seen that you’re struggling with your depression a lot recently, I hope you’re doing alright and taking time for yourself, doing what makes you happy and what helps clear your mind ❤️

-🫧🫧

(PS died when you mentioned Seelie Kyojuro as I am from Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿)

MY BELOVED BUBBLE ANON!!

Hello my love!! I adore seeing you in my inbox, always!

I’m so sorry you’re going through a rough time right now. I really hope you’re able to take some time and get some rest and indulge in a bit of self care. I’m sending you lots of hugs, and since you’re in Scotland, some tea as well. I’m partial to crumpets so if you like them, I how you get to eat them however you like them! (I’m a slather it in butter girl myself)

As for TGW — hehehehehe I’m so glad you enjoyed the teaser!! TGW has been a lot of fun to write (even if I have to stop and research some new historical fact every two seconds). Sam said it reads more like a romance story (a smutty one ofc) and that makes me happy since that’s relatively new territory to me.

As for a Giyuu Infinity Castle POV — as of right now, I don’t have plans for one! There is a brief POV from him in a flashback from the night of his and Reader’s ✨first time✨ that will appear in Part II. The first time scene occurs during the Hashira training arc/right before infinity castle begins, so you will see a certain sun breather trying to get Giyuu to train with him as he makes his way toward the shrine to see his girl and pop her cherry

As for Netherwood…

😈😈😈

I will say, I know I have y’all stressed but many of you all commented on the strength of Sanemi and Reader’s love in Part III — just remember that! And remember how hard they both fought to get back to one another. That matters!

Regarding whether Sanemi had any “girlfriends” between Kanae and Reader — I’m not so sure he did. One, because he was pretty isolated in the Wood at his cabin, guiding strangers. Two, I think his “experience” is probably less than you’re thinking — he might not have been a virgin but he also wasn’t a sex god by any means. Reader has no experience prior to Sanemi, so I imagine she’s a bit biased when it comes to him — it probably seems like he’s much more experienced than she is by comparison. I think he knows enough about the mechanics and then just goes by pure instinct.

I’ve joked with a couple of mutuals that were she to talk to Kotoha she’d probably be like “what do you MEAN it’s not normal for your partner to have a knot?? How else does he keep all that cum insane??”

Thank you for the kind message, my friend!! I love when you all pop in and ask questions about the fics or even share your reactions. It truly makes my day. And thank you for checking in! Depression has been a bitch lately but I’m focusing on trying to make it MY bitch.

Please take care of yourself! I’m sending love and light your way.

PS — my head refers to you as my “Bublé” anon — like Michael Bublé.

🤍🤍🤍

#🍑’s asks #🫧 anon #demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #giyuu tomioka

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babybubastis · 7 months

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🎉 Happy 1st Anniversary, Nashuri Nation! 🎉

In honor of my undying love for our scorching hot ship, here is a humble fic update 🖤💚

🐈‍⬛ 🐍

This Is My Throat, As Defined By Her Reaching

Chapter Two: Retribution

(Check it out here!)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~7.2k

Warnings: PWP, mentions of violence/blood, smut, oral sex, angst, light choking, bdsm, femdom, Domme!Shuri, (bratty)Sub!Namor, restraints

A/N: It’s been a long time… I shouldn’t have left you… without a dope beat to— ok, ok, all jokes aside, I am INCREDIBLY sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I planned to post this chapter months ago, and then my mental health and a bunch of other things just piled on top of me. But my love for these two has only grown, and I hope that this chapter will at least be worth the long wait. Thank you to everyone who read chapter one, and thank you to everyone who is still with me 💜 Please like, reblog, kudos, comment, and share; I appreciate it so so much! I love y’all!

~~~~~

“You’re not as slick as you think,” Shuri mutters, still facing away from him.

Namor can practically hear her eyes rolling, and he can’t help but breathe out a low chuckle. “I never can fool my Queen, can I?”

“And yet you still try.”

“I enjoy a challenge.”

“Clearly.”

The annoyance bleeding through her clipped tone reignites the simmering hunger in his belly. Before she can protest, he reaches out, slides his right hand across her silken, bare skin to hook around her waist. A muffled squeal sounds in the back of her throat when he drags her toward him. It’s unbearably endearing.

“What gave me away?” he murmurs in her ear.

A shudder rolls through her slender frame, and he reflexively tightens his hold around her. “Your breathing,” Shuri whispers, her own breath stuttering at the roughness of his fingers. “I heard it change the second I walked through the door.”

“If you knew I was only pretending to sleep,” he rumbles, teeth grazing the soft flesh of her earlobe, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Shuri hums, and she finally turns her head to face him. The sly curve of her mouth as she flits her gaze down the length of his body threatens to stop his heart in its tracks. He’s almost forgotten his hushed question when she meets his eyes again and parts her full lips.

“Because I like toying with you,” she whispers.

#nashuri #namuri #seaprincess #shuri x namor #namor x shuri #nashuri fic #fic update #ao3 update

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bylightofdawn · 5 months

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2023 Wrap Up.

It’s officially New Years in Texas. 2023 has been a weird year for me, one that both dragged and flew by way too quickly. There’s so much pain and awfulness going on the world right now that it’s hard to not dwell on or carry that into 2024 but I’m going to try and keep this relatively light-hearted and positive if only because I want to try and start the New Year on a positive note. For me personally? I didn’t really do anything big or notable but I had some smaller but meaningful victories.

I made a New Years resolution (something I’m pretty vehemently against because I always feel disappointed in myself when I don’t follow through) that I was going to start writing again and I would try and write every day. I didn’t manage every day but boy howdy did I still keep up that resolution. The major project of course being Seeds for the Future which I clocked in at 176,456 words minus I want to say around 10,000 words which I’d previously started like 3 years ago before abandoning it. So we’ll call it 165,000 to make it even-ish.

Holy. Shit. 165,000 in one year. I did not in a million years think I had that in me. And it’s been a wild ride. At points I felt like I was being ridden by a damned demon that was demanding I write this NOW. I was especially busy the first six months or so and then I burned myself out which….completely understandable when you consider your standard basic fiction book is around 70,000+ so I wrote two fucking novels in six months length-wise. But I also wrote a bunch of other stuff. I wrote A Fragile World Between Sharp Teeth which I’m still absurdly in love with. Wrote two whole-ass Witcher fics this month and one Star Trek fic as well as some other WIPs.

By my calculations I wrote -drum roll- 233,383 words in 2023.

223,383 WORDS WRITTEN ARE YOU SHITTING ME

And actually followed through on a New Years Resolution.

I also forced myself out of my comfort zone in little ways. I pushed myself to take action on my health to try and figure out the cause of my chronic pain and while the diagnosis was a bummer as was getting diagnosed with diabetes on top of everything else this year, I am proud that I forced myself to do it. I also did silly things like bleached my hair and dyed it all manner of crazy colors.

I think for 2024 I’m going to try and hold myself accountable for my health. I desperately need to go back to therapy and as much as I hate to admit it, I need to join a gym and strengthen my body. It will be the best thing I can do for my RA if I can help strengthen my muscles and I think it will help with my pain levels. It just...it sounds like so much effort though and it scares me so we’ll see how that journey goes. I’m going to keep plugging away slowly but surely.

I’m also going to keep trying to write in 2024. I have so many fic ideas I want to write. I’m definitely not going to do anymore crazy fucking 100K fics again. It definitely takes a toll on me creatively and not going to lie, after a while it feels like I’m just kinda screaming into the void because the sad truth of the matter is, long-fic will turn readers off and they won’t click or interact with it. And eventually my imposter syndrome reared its ugly head and the last half of this year and trying to finish Seeds has been a slog for the most part and not one I enjoyed.

Now, I’m going to go pour myself a glass of Moscato, eat some stupidly expensive caprese salad and I think edit the first chapter of my Gallahir sequel. I think I might be able to get it up and posted today if I can edit the first chapter tonight. Thank you to all my tumblr buddies, both new and old who have stuck it out with me through everything. I love and appreciate y’all and I am hoping you all have a happier, more kinder year than 2023.

#life of el #out with the old #in with the new #ngl I'm glad 2023 is over it's been a slog the past six months

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ymiwritesstuff · 2 years

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Dangerous Dance

OK OK HERE’S THE MAJIMA FIC AAAAAAA HE’S SO HOT I’LL DIE! This is just a very random “simp fic” so to speak. Basically, reader is down bad, Majima is down bad. Very suggestive because of course it is. This takes place during Yakuza 0, also, please remember that I have NOT FINISHED THE GAME!! So please don’t spoil anything!! Anyway, I really really hope you guys like this. Please enjoy!!

Yakuza 0

Goro Majima x Reader

Summary: The last few days have been rough, so you decide to unwind by visiting a familiar disco club. What you don’t expect however is meeting a stranger who is so alluring, you are not sure how to react.

Notes: Usage of alcohol, drunk reader, mild swearing, suggestive themes, allusions to smut (not the act itself, y’all let me know if you wanna see that tho 👀), reader down bad, Majima down bad lmao, FIRST TIME WRITING FOR MAJIMA, KEEP THAT IN MIND PLS

Also posted on AO3!

What a day.

You were more than aware that your job wasn’t the most excellent, hell, you could say you had gotten fairly used to the worst parts of customer service. Rude customers had little to no effect on you anymore, kicking drunken assholes out was but a tiny inconvenience, and your poor legs had become numb to the pain of standing in one place for multiple hours.

Recently, however, it had been shit. And you didn’t know why exactly, maybe you were just getting tired of living the same routine over and over. You just needed a break. And a really good one.

The loud booming music at the disco was almost deafening but in the best possible way. It left your head no room to think of anything but the pounding sounds you could not only hear but also feel. Maharaja was not foreign to you, in fact, you felt you were somehow far more familiar with Sotenbori during nighttime. The whole city became an entirely different place, it sprung to live, even. You frequented the disco whenever you felt the need to have a good time, get drunk, or maybe even hook up with somebody. You never knew what would happen, and that’s why you loved it.

With a drink in hand, you moved with the music, occasionally letting out a yell or two when a particularly nice song began to play. You could feel the effects of the alcohol you had consumed, your head felt light, and your vision was slightly shaky, but dear Lord you were having fun. You absorbed the energy of the partying people around you, forgetting all about the reason for your late-night visit, washing it away with a strong lime and gin.

The tunes echoed in your head and lingered there and the screams and yells of others kept you from floating to a world of your own. Still, your attention was scattered, eyes going from one place to another to being fully closed. There was a dance battle or two at some point. Who won those again? You had already forgotten, the memory was lost somewhere and washed away by the alcohol.

You downed your drink, as you danced, catching a glimpse of a young couple from the corner of your vision. They were all over each other, drunk, barely able to keep up with the beat. Despite that, they looked like they were having a good time. A wonderful time. Immediately you felt something stick to you.

Envy.

You stared at your now empty glass and let out something in between a laugh and a scoff. You’d need another drink. And someone to spend your time with.

Being alone was no issue, you sometimes even preferred it. But you would be flat-out lying to yourself if you claimed that some company wasn’t wanted. Parties were always better with others anyway. All kinds of people all over Sotenbori came to Maharaja, surely there had to be someone who was willing to exchange a few words or even dance with you. Though deep down, you perhaps desired more than that. Something... Wild. Your expectations in that regard, however, were quite low. A good dance would do just fine.

The bar counter was mostly empty, which was no strange sight. People much preferred to spend their time on the dance floor and the only time they stepped off was when their mouths desired the bitter taste of alcohol, you being living proof of that. That was precisely what you were doing after all.

With slightly uneven steps you approached the counter, the effects of the previous drinks very much apparent. You were nowhere done, though. Nowhere near drunk enough. You had made it your goal to get as wasted as possible tonight, almost out of spite. The last few days had been so awful. You weren’t religious by any means, but if there was some higher power out there responsible for all the shit you had endured lately, tonight, you’d be giving it the middle finger by allowing yourself to have a good time for once.

Your eyes drifted and noticed someone sitting at the counter. Strange, you weren’t expecting anyone to anchor themself here of all places, the music barely reached this part of the disco. Maybe he was waiting for somebody, you thought.

You eyed the man carefully, taking in his appearance. From your angle, you couldn’t see his face, but he was well-dressed, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a firmness to him, his shoulders appeared tense and something told you that he was perhaps already aware of your presence.

In one hand, he held his drink, while the other rested on the counter. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts, but you could see his finger tapping to the faraway beat against the table.

You looked back at the dance floor and then at the man again. Screw it. You were rather intrigued and seeing that no one else seemed to be as secluded as this stranger, you approached him with something akin to slight nervousness attaching itself to you.

“Out here alone?” You yelled over the music. The stranger turned to you and immediately you felt something in your chest, your eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of him. His face was neutral, tired even as if he hadn’t had enough sleep for days. Yet his lips turned slightly upward as he looked at you. It made your stomach turn. What was perhaps the most shocking part of his fierce appearance was the eyepatch covering his left eye. Your legs trembled the tiniest amount. He was unbelievably handsome.

“Yeah, I am,” he replied in what was possibly the most attractive voice you had ever heard. More than happy with his answer, you sat down beside him, eyes briefly glancing at his slightly exposed chest and the gold necklace adorning it. Some part of you knew he noticed, as you hazily noted the way he let out a suppressed chuckle. In your slightly drunken state, however, you had no shame.

“Want some company?” You asked with a slight smirk, placing your empty glass down. “Parties are no fun alone, are they?” Yet another chuckle left his lips and he quickly looked down before locking his only visible eye with you once more.

“Yer right about that. But makes me wonder,” he took one sip from his drink, your eyes gluing themselves to the way his lips parted as he drank before continuing.

“Whatsa pretty thing like you doin’ here all alone?” He challenged your smirk with one of his own, that deep voice of his resonating deep in your ears and lingering there like smoke. His words made you giggle and you leaned in, slightly shortening the distance between you two.

“Well, I’m not alone anymore, am I?”

There was the tiniest shift in his expression and something about it told you that he may not have expected your response to be so bold. And to be fair, you didn’t either. A few stronger drinks do wonders for one’s courage. He hummed in agreement, silently accepting your company. Score.

“What’s yer name, gorgeous?” You found yourself breaking eye contact at the nickname he used that was so effortlessly carried by his voice. He was no stranger to flirting, that much was clear. And it was working, as the flush on your cheeks was no longer only due to alcohol.

“(Name).” Something poked at your insides, something you could only describe as enthusiasm. You were eager to talk to this man, the more you looked at him, the more it felt like he was reeling you in. The bizarre feeling could only be compared to a high schooler talking to their crush. You didn’t complain though.

“(Name), eh? Fits ya well.” A laugh escaped your lips and if you had been more attentive, you would have noticed him glancing at them. “I’m Majima.”

Something clicked within you as soon as he said that, and your smile got replaced by an expression of realization. Was he..

“Goro Majima..? The manager of Cabaret Grand?” You looked at him with widened eyes, trying to process what you had heard. He raised a surprised eyebrow at you, likely not expecting you to know of him.

“Haw? How’d ya know?” His shock was understandable, and now that he had confirmed your suspicion, you were over the moon. In your excitement, you laughed.

“Anyone who has spent enough time enjoying the nightlife of Sotenbori has heard of Goro Majima,” you began. The hushed whispers of the Grand’s highly efficient manager did not go unnoticed by you and the things you had heard about his feats were truly something to marvel at. You never expected to meet him though and his refined and at the same time intense looks now made slightly more sense to you.

“I’m surprised to find you here, though.” You brought your palm to your face and leaned on it, that smirk you first put on remaining on your lips. “And without company too.” Given his reputation, you assumed men, women and everyone in between would be all over him, sticking to him like moths to a flame, yet you had found him alone at the most deserted spot of Maharaja. A part of you was quite ecstatic about that, not that you would ever allow yourself to admit that.

He laughed, noticing the underlying flattery in your words. It was funny to him but he chose to accept it even if it was only because he did not dare to extinguish the flames he saw in your eyes.

Majima gulped down the last bits of his drink, enjoying the way it flowed down his throat. You could not take your half-lidded eyes off him, the distant music becoming all the more apparent and louder, which made you turn your head towards the dance floor.

“Hey, can I get ya a drink?” Majima asked, pointing to your empty glass on the counter. “Just order whatever ya want. My treat.” You turned to him upon hearing his question and noticed the knowing grin on his face. Your eyes shifted from his eye to his lips and you came to a conclusion. You were at Maharaja, the wildest disco in town, and there was only one thing you were craving and the thriving sounds around you only fueled that desire.

You promptly stood up, to which Majima raised his brow.

“How about we dance first? Or were you planning to just sulk here all night?” You asked teasingly, but there was some seriousness to your question. It was still bizarre to you that he would choose to isolate himself in a place like this.

It didn’t take long for Majima to stand up in front of you, and you felt yourself stumble ever so slightly. His height impressed you, and he looked down at you with a clearly teasing smirk. You were sure he did it on purpose.

“Sure, show me what ya got, darlin’.”

He was so close to you, it was almost suffocating, but in a good way. You caught a whiff of a cologne he was wearing, he smelled as good as he looked. You tilted your head upwards at him and stood up on your toes in an attempt to get your face as close to his as possible. You wanted to let him know exactly what he was making you feel.

“Try to keep up, Majima-san.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and Majima was more than happy with the fact that you didn’t know just how many chills ran down his spine upon hearing your words. You were certainly something.

The brightly lit dance floor was buzzing, filled to the brim with people dying to dance and sing their hearts out. You were no different, you were hungry for a good time, especially with someone like Majima.

Once you reached the floor, you turned to him. His tense posture seemed somewhat more relaxed and there was a sense of underlying anticipation in him, almost like there was something inside of him just waiting to be let out. Most curious.

With a final glance at him, you began to sway with the music, just letting your body move on its own and closing your eyes. You felt the beat in your being and relished it, bringing your arms into the air. The music and lights enveloped you, and all your worries just melted away with every step you took.

Majima followed suit, allowing himself to get lost in the moment. He truly enjoyed dancing, which some might have considered surprising. At the same time though, he could not help but glance at you every now and then. He was fascinated by how fluidly your body moved with the music and how nice of a smile you had the whole time.

He would be lying to himself if he said he did not find you extremely attractive like this.

You caught him staring, and smirked at him right away. His burning gaze was unlike anything you had experienced and somehow you could feel both his eyes hungrily watching you, despite one of them being covered. You adored how it made you feel. And you knew he was more than enjoying the view.

With every roll of your hips and every snap of your head to the beat, Majima found himself more and more entranced and his own movements became wilder. He matched your energy perfectly, dancing his heart out, letting a laugh or two slip his lips occasionally. You noted how effortlessly he moved with the music and how much he seemed to be enjoying himself. He was a good dancer to be sure, he definitely had a talent for it. The bright lights adorned his already stunning face and brought out his features perfectly.

Running a hand through your hair sloppily you stepped closer to him, with a potentially dangerous idea suddenly taking over your head. If you were sober, you would have never allowed yourself to even think of something like this, but now it seemed like the perfect idea, partially because you were already so addicted to the way this stranger looked at you.

With your face mere inches away from his, you eyed his parted lips. You could smell the remains of the drink he had consumed just moments ago, but there was something else in there too and it didn’t take you long to figure out what. Cigarettes.

It filled you with something, a desire that you weren’t sure you had felt towards anyone else. Once you locked eyes with him, you were almost caught off guard at the intensity of his stare. It was fierce, starving, and almost unhinged.

You smirked and prowled closer to his lips, hands ghosting over his arms while swinging your body with the harmonious sounds that had filled your mind. You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but the way your heart raced was exciting, and you became even more excited when Majima matched your movements, bringing his head lower and closer to yours.

That was the response you were looking for, and it served as a sign that he was willing to play along. Perfect. Your smirk and gaze became mischievous and you quickly turned around, with your back facing him. You somehow heard the slight groan that rumbled in his throat even from under all the commotion.

In this new position, you made an effort to get him as worked up as possible. The song playing was perfect, the melody was sensual and enticing, yet the beat was still on-brand for disco. You swayed your hips, flipped your hair, and even ran a hand along your waist and chest all so you could wordlessly tell Majima what he was about to get. And it was working.

Majima could not keep his eye off you. He followed your movements and got completely lost in the sight of you. His breath hitched every time you looked back at him, those half-lidded, glossy eyes sending sparks throughout his being. His own dancing lost some of its passion as he was too occupied with feasting on you with his gaze. It traveled up and down, taking all of you in and letting his filthy imagination run wild.

You leaned against him, clearly catching him off guard. With your backside pressed against him, you continued your dancing, feigning innocence by looking at him with an expression so cruelly seductive that Majima wasn’t sure how long he could hold back. From the corner of your vision, you noticed his hand move toward your waist, an action you long predicted and expected.

However, before he could make contact with your body, you grabbed his wrist, denying his silent request. For a brief second, Majima feared he had crossed the line by attempting to touch you, but once he heard that cursed laugh of yours, he understood the situation. No touching. Not yet.

Still, he would not stand for being the only one getting messed with. That was not fair, was it? Carefully, with your back still turned to him, he lowered his head to your ear, barely touching it with his lips, his hot breath sending multiple sets of shivers down your spine. He saw you visibly let out a shaky breath as your dancing slowed down at his actions. He chuckled.

“Ya teasin’ me, darlin’?” His voice made you weak. It was low, husky, and just barely audible through all the music, but you heard it loud and clear, and it set you aflame. The grip you had on his wrist loosened, though you knew even with your tightest hold, he would be able to break free and turn the tables on you. The image alone almost pushed you over the edge.

Letting go of his hand, you finally turned around, your dancing reduced to just light swaying. The alcohol played its part in it too, you assumed. You looked at Majima dead in the eye, expression filled with lust.

“And what if I am?” You challenged his statement, which he found most amusing. Your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, dancing along the area right next to his neck. Despite the lack of fairness, Majima kept his hands to himself, which you exploited by having yours all over him.

The music had become mute in your head, the only thing raging in there were the sinful thoughts you had let loose by getting so close to this man. You were sure it was the same for him, his hot and bothered face told you all you needed to know.

“We’ll see how far that’ll get ya.” You jumped and let out a slight noise when you felt his hands on your hips, the tightness of his grip surprising you. He brought his face close, so close you felt like you were about to faint. “My patience’s runnin’ thin.”

Truthfully, so was yours.

You slid your hand down his toned torso, feeling his abs through his thin shirt, stopping at his belt, the feeling spreading the fire all across your being. With your lips on his hot cheek and your hand on the other side of his perfectly sculpted face you spoke in a low voice:

“Then, should we go get those drinks somewhere else?”

Majima tightened his hold on your hips, chuckling once more, but this time, there was something in it you hadn’t noticed before. It could have only been described as wickedness.

“Eager, ain’tcha?”

You looked up at him with a sly smile, which was all the encouragement Majima needed to start retreating from the dance floor. Filled with excitement, you followed, more than eager to spend the night with him.

“C’mon, let’s go. Ya still haven’t shown me all ya can do, have ya?”

You giggled. He was right.

What a night this would be.

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