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pucksandpower · 3 months

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The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

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onlyhuis · 1 year

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leaning on the everlasting arms

member — childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre — angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count — 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis — as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings — female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes — although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 — for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference.

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether.

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long.

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years.

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal.

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known.

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady.

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so.

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be.

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses.

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough.

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room.

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second.

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes.

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth.

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth.

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again.

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you,

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer.

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement.

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead.

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging with tags or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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#1k #kflixnet #k-labels #[📌] — june.writes #[💟] — joshua #[❤️] — smut #[💙] — angst #joshua smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #joshua hong smut #joshua imagines #joshua x reader #joshua hong #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #joshua fanfic

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azrielbrainrot · 18 days

Text

Loose Lips and Big Feelings

Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him.

Warnings: Alcohol?

Word Count: 2320

Notes: This is a little short but very cute. As always, this is part of the band au but you can read it as a standalone. Also I decided the boys make early Arctic Monkeys type music because imagining Azriel singing 505 sounds delicious. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

The bar was already packed with drunk people by the time you arrived. It was so full you were surprised they even let you in, you had to take a deep breath, readying yourself before diving into the sea of people. Finding Azriel and his friends was going to be harder than you thought, you might have to text him again. The situation was somewhat nostalgic to the first time you set foot in this bar, the same night you met Azriel. It's amazing how much things have changed in a matter of months.

Someone was doing a cover of a song you recognized on stage, it almost made you want to hum along and enjoy it for a bit, but you needed to get to Azriel's table first. You couldn't really see the woman singing on stage aside from her striking ginger hair and blue dress, but her voice was truly amazing. You could definitely understand why everyone was so excited to see her. You'd have to ask Azriel if he knew her, maybe try to see one of her shows properly.

You hadn't actually planned on coming tonight, Azriel and the boys weren't even playing and you'd rather sleep away the week. In fact, an hour ago you had been sitting at your desk hoping to get enough progress on an essay so you could completely free up your Sunday to rest and lay in bed all day. But, when a mildly intoxicated Azriel texted you, asking you to meet up with him at the bar, you couldn't resist the offer.

It's not often he asks you outright to meet him, always so conscious of your hectic schedule and workload, even your recent aversion to social outings. So you couldn't really deny him the one time he actually did. You were also a bit curious to see what had him so excited, his happiness was extremely contagious, and admittedly a bit curious to see what he's like when he's drunk, if your intuition had been right then he was close to wasted when he sent you those texts littered with typos.

He had told you that they were sitting at the table by the big red poster, you were pretty sure you knew which one he meant, but unfortunately it was close to the stage which means it would be difficult to get to it while the performance was happening. You were caught between excuse me’s and apologies when you finally caught sight of familiar broad shoulders and luscious tied back hair.

Even when they're not on stage, they're hard to miss. Cassian is at least a head taller than the crowd, so even when he's sitting down you can always count on finding him. He's the first one to notice you as well, greeting you with a shout of your name, somehow audible over the music, and a big grin, as you keep trying to gently push your way through the crowd to get to them.

You find the three of them tucked into the sofas by the table Azriel told you about. Apparently being one of the performing bands gave you access to the best seats in the bar, you always got stuck with the regular chairs. As you get closer to the table you notice Morrigan and another girl you haven't met before were also present.

“You came,” Morrigan yelled excitedly as soon as you got up to the table. It seems they're all drinking tonight, the table is full of grins and flushed cheeks.

“I did,” you chuckle at the overenthusiastic greetings from everyone at the table. A familiar scarred hand reaches out for yours immediately, tugging on it so you would sit down next to him. It's not missed on you the eyebrows the gesture raises, you've learned that he's not always forthcoming with letting people touch or hold his hands so you're sure they didn't really expect him to do it so easily. They probably didn't know Azriel told you everything either.

The sofas were small so it was a tight fit as you sat down right next to him, having no other option but let your leg comfortably rest on his, the feeling of his rough jeans on your bare skin making you giddy for some reason. His arm comes around your waist straight away so his hand settles on the side of your thigh, pulling you even closer into him.

The gesture makes you look up at him, his face a lot closer than you expected, you could feel his breath hit your skin and if you moved even an inch closer your nose would bump against his. The smile he gives you almost takes your breath away as you let out a soft greeting, “Hi.” You're surprised he even heard you, if you weren't so close to each other he wouldn't have been able to over the music, but he throws the same word back at you, in the same whispered tone you used, as his smile widens, eyes not making any effort to leave yours.

“So this is Azriel's friend,” the girl you haven't met before says, with a tone that suggests she's heard a lot about you. The thought of Azriel or any of the boys telling anyone about you has your heart skipping a beat. Her voice also cuts through the spell you and Azriel seemed to be locked in, finally breaking eye contact with him so you can answer her. But, as you look back to the table, you become more than aware that everyone just witnessed your little moment and the smirks on their faces make it hard to play it off.

“This is Amren. She's our manager,” Rhysand explains before you have to ask, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he takes in the flushed state of yours.

“Nice to meet you,” you try to keep your voice leveled but even to your ears it sounds breathless. You swallow softly and try to move the conversation along as Azriel starts rubbing small circles over your skirt, “You didn't tell me why you're celebrating.”

“Rita just told us she's doubling our performances at the bar,” Azriel explains, a little slur noticeable in his voice.

“Really?” You turn back to him as he nods again with a big grin on his face. He looked really excited to share the news with you.

“She's giving us a raise too,” Cass adds, and then looks back at his mostly empty cup and then at your empty hand, “We need to get you a drink.” You stop him before he can get up. “I think I'll be the responsible one tonight and stay sober.” The disappointed reactions around the table make you laugh but also accept that you'd be the babysitter tonight, they were all bordering on wasted already.

As the night went on, everyone only got progressively drunker. It seems like since they can't usually drink too much when they have to perform, they took the opportunity that everyone was here to party as much as they could. Even Azriel, who you never really saw drinking, was talking and laughing like you've never really seen him. He's more of a quiet guy most of the time, preferring to listen rather than entertain. It was nice to see him let loose a little.

The bar was getting quieter since the performance had ended a while ago and the big majority of the attendees started filtering out shortly after. The only people that were still around were ones that were as drunk as your present company. You didn't really mind being sober though, Cassian had brought you some sort of juice so you had something to sip on, and as loud as they were, they were easy drunks to deal with.

Amren had left right after the performance ended with a warning not to stay up too late since they had practice tomorrow. You got the sense she wasn't too much of a crowded bar person but she seemed nice enough. After that everyone else seemed to leave one by one, you tried to keep track of them, not wanting them to end up in trouble as drunk as they were, but as you saw Morrigan making out with a pretty girl with long black hair on the dancefloor your worry subsided.

This also left you alone with Azriel, who has been a lot more talkative and touchy than he usually is. At this exact moment, he was telling you a story, that you lost track of about halfway in, and holding one of your hands in between his, as he played with your fingers, twisting and turning the rings you were wearing. He has also not made any move to sit away from you even though you were the only remaining people at the table, your leg really didn't need to be thrown over his. Azriel was a clingy drunk and your cheeks hurt from smiling at the realization.

You were pondering on how to stop him so you could take him home. It was getting really late and you've already gotten almost unreadable texts from everyone saying they left. He had also told you he had work today so he has to be exhausted. But you didn't have the heart as you watched him excitedly continue on with his story.

At some point, he notices you weren't really following along and just stops, tilting his head to the side slightly. Your smile only widens at the sight. “What?”

“You're cute when you're drunk,” you admit.

“I think you're cute all the time,” he retorts without missing a beat, making your face heat up.

You always had a hard time telling yourself to keep your feelings for him platonic, but between the boyish smile, the flirtatious comments and the lingering touches, it was getting close to impossible to achieve today. “And flirty,” you struggle out.

“Only with you.” Cauldron. You really needed to get him to sober up and take him home.

You get up to do just that and within ten minutes, you're out of the bar and waiting for an uber by the same empty parking lot you usually find yourself in when you come out. He's also a pretty obedient drunk it seems. All you had to do was grab his hand and he looked like he was ready to follow you anywhere your heart desired. You were so glad you chose not to drink because your heart was definitely giving you ideas and your brain was the only thing stopping you.

Azriel was still holding onto your hand and you honestly had no intention of letting go of him. You couldn't really take your eyes off him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, the low lights of the bar hasn't let you really take in the sight. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead and that same boyish smile hasn't left his face all night. No one should be allowed to look this good when they're drunk.

“Remember when we met here?” His words were starting to sound a bit clearer, maybe the cold air was helping him sober up a little or he was just getting tired. You think he told you he had work today and it was already late.

“Of course. It only happened a few months ago.”

“Feels like I've known you my whole life,” he says as he looks down at your linked hands, running his thumb softly over your skin.

“We didn't meet here though,” your voice seems to bring him out of his thoughts, his eyes finding yours, “You gave me back my keys when we were still inside.”

His smile turned a little shy at that. “I'm not sure that counts. I was running late and barely said anything,” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “I was beating myself up over it the whole show.”

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure if he'll remember anything come morning. unsure if you'd want him to, “I was having a really bad day when we met, didn't even really want to come out, but I'm really glad I did, even though I got a massive headache out of it. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. And I can't really imagine my life without you now.”

You tighten your hold on his hand and use it to pull him a little closer to you, close enough that you have to crane your neck back to be able to keep looking up into his eyes. “I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Azriel,” you smile up at him.

The emotion that crosses his face is so overbearing it's impossible to miss or confuse for anything else than adoration and… something more, something you've been trying to ignore for far too long. Gods, you really wish he was sober.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your warm skin. “I think so too, princess,” he whispers, looking at you like he can't believe you're real. You've noticed the nickname only comes out when it's just the two of you and at times like this, when it seems he doesn't even realize he's said it, like he's been holding himself back from doing it regularly.

You could have stayed here, looking up at his beautiful hazel eyes all night, but it doesn't take long for a black car to come to a stop a few feet away from you, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts. You almost forgot you were still outside the bar, still needed to take this big drunk bat home. Taking a step back, you tug on his hand once again, so he can follow you to the car. “Come on, Azzie. We need to get you home.”

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel fluff

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foreingersgod · 11 days

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caitlin clark x reader where the reader is very feminine and people don’t realize that shes 💅

She likes girls . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: although you’re a raging gay, you don’t typically look the part. if you had a nickel for every time you and caitlin got mistaken for beings besties or sisters, you’d be rich

A/N: thought this would be a cute little blurb, so anon, if you want me to edit this and make it longer, please message me :)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“i don’t know maybe i’m doing something wrong?” you asked caitlin, legs draped over her lap. it was a sunday afternoon spent on the couch, relaxing after brunch with her family.

“baby” she patted your leg “you’re not doing anything wrong!”

“then why do people not take us seriously?” you were incredibly frustrated “if someone treats us like we’re best friends one more time i’m going to lose it”

it happened often, definitely more than you wished. you would be mistaken as caitlin’s sister or her best friend constantly. at first it just started when you started dating publicly. you’d receive comments like “you and your friend have a nice day!” or “she’s a good friend, keep that one around!”. it was sweet at first, but then cait introduced you to her team. they thought she was kidding when she announced you as her girlfriend. it wouldn’t necessarily have been a big deal, but it hurt your feelings that they didn’t genuinely believe that caitlin would date you. even when you met her family, the entire lot of them thought caitlin was bringing home a roommate for the holidays.

“i’m so sorry! you just don’t…look gay” her mom would exclaim, trying to apologize. you tried to not look hurt, you understood even.

“mom” caitlin interfered, already knowing how you were upset once again that you were mistaken for a friend. “it’s ok, but can we just drop it? please?”

now, today at brunch, the waitress asked for caitlin’s number right in front of you. while her parents and brothers were talking about work and school and while you and cait were discussing plans for next week, the young woman scurried over to hand caitlin a napkin with her number on it. caitlin had one arm around your shoulder, another fiddling with the rings on your fingers, and the waitress still didn’t catch a hint. after unfolding the crumpled napkin and seeing the bold black numbers, caitlin immediately declined and motioned to you, she was taken.

“oh my god,” the waitress said “i thought you guys were like friends or something i’m so sorry”

you weren’t surprised.

“i feel like something IS wrong though!” you reply to caitlin, running your hands through your hair in annoyance. “i hate that people don’t even see me as your girlfriend and it sucks!”

“i know, but we’re together either way and that’s all that matters” her words of reassurance were doing little to change your mind.

“maybe it’s the way i dress? i know i’m very feminine and stuff, so maybe that’s the issue”

caitlin laughed “YN, it doesn’t matter how you dress, ok? just because people assume we’re friends or assume you’re straight doesn’t mean that it changes your identity at all. i love the way you dress and i don’t want you to change just because people are blind.”

“you’re right, i just want people to know that we’re together” you sighed.

“me too,” she agreed “but at the same time, i really like saying ‘she’s my girlfriend’ to people”

god she was so sweet, “i really like that too”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb

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hellenhighwater · 23 days

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How do you stay creative while working full time? :)

I don't know, I just do stuff. Not art stuff, really! I think sometimes that I have to maintain a base minimum of Stuff Going On to stay above the gravity well of Comfy Bed All the Time No Need To Get Up And Do Things. There's an inertia to stuff, you know? Sometimes when you're busy it's easier to just maintain the momentum of getting things done. I don't always get stuff done as quickly as I'd like--the fact that I'm doing stuff all the time doesn't mean that the stuff I'm doing is necessarily productive. That's a good thing, though, because creativity has to be fueled from somewhere. There's got to be non-creative time for that part of the brain to recharge and rest, so it's not bad to have a job that doesn't demand that kind of thinking.

I did a lot this weekend and almost none of it was creatively productive in a normal sense. I got some pottery done on saturday morning, and then met a friend for sushi, went to my dad's to sandblast and powdercoat car parts and got a milkshake, went for a walk in the woods to pick tiny flowers, met my brother for dinner, and played DnD until midnight before driving back home. Today I planted hydrangea, hauled flagstone into place, dug up grass and tilled it over, and put mulch down. I made a roast for lunch and played DnD in my other campaign for a few hours, then started mixing down the clay slurry into slip for casting, which has to rest for the next 24 hours. In a little while, a friend and I are going to do an online movie marathon, and tomorrow--monday--I've got a board game night after work. Then the next week is pottery tues/thurs/saturday, dinner with my other brother and his wife on wednesday, DnD friday and sunday again.

You know what all of those little appointments with friends do? Force me to manage my time well. Force me to stay on and not just let the day get away from me. I rest when I need to but I also put really concerted effort in to spending time doing stuff that I enjoy.

People often say that they create art from a specific emotion, but to me, in order to make art, to make art sustainably, you have to be happy enough to want to put new things in the world. They don't have to be happy things. But you have to be in the world to reflect it out. Sometimes that's work. Sometimes that's friends.

Work on joy; the art will follow. That's just what's true for me.

#i have never been artistically productive while miserable #and i do like my job so thats a big asterisk on all this #also i make a lot of sad art for a person who is generally pretty happy

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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hello! :D I'm not sure if your request are open but if they are could you please write about reader and marauders playing a game something like answering questions and if they don't answer they have to drink and reader is asked who they would rather kiss (or something along those lines) out of them all and reader says Remus and they both get all flustered and the rest of the group is teasing them and whatnot and they end up telling each other about their feelings for one another like the next day or something

im sorry if this ask is like all over the place anywhooo thank you so much!<3 i love your writing btw :)

My requests are open babe, thank you!

cw: drinking game

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and your laughter bubbles up out of you with scarcely any prompting.

“Alright, alright,” Marlene says, “James, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

James hardly hesitates. “Quidditch pitch.”

You slap a palm across your mouth, and your little circle bursts into howling laughter.

“It was really dark, though!” James justifies. “No one would’ve been able to see us if they’d looked. Anyway, my turn.” He looks around the circle, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Pads.” Sirius looks up. “When you said you’d never had sex in my bed, were you lying?”

Sirius presses his lips together, looking suspiciously like he’s suppressing a smile, and drinks.

“Wha—that’s as good as an answer!” James sputters. “You prick, learn some boundaries!”

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Sirius shrugs. “Okay…y/n.” You bite your lip, doing your best to make your eyes look wide and sweet in the hopes he’ll go easy on you. “Of everyone here right now, who would you rather kiss?”

You freeze, trying to keep your gaze from darting to your immediate answer. “I…I don’t know,” you say.

Sirius shakes his head, smirking. “Not good enough, sweetheart.”

“Careful,” Marlene warns, “I don’t know if you can handle drinking much more.”

“Yeah, Pads, just let ‘er off,” Remus says. “Don’t make her sick because of you.”

“All she has to do is answer,” Sirius argues, but it’s alright, because you’ve seen your opening.

You take it. “Remus,” you say, as though the idea has just occurred to you, “because he’s being nicer to me than the rest of you.”

The group erupts in cheers and boos, and Remus’ cheeks color pink.

“Plus,” you go on, emboldened by the warmth of booze in your chest, “he wouldn’t make it weird. None of the rest of you would ever let me forget it.”

“Oi!” James protests. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, right,” Marlene laughs. “Sirius, who did James kiss last week?”

Sirius tilts his head. “Do you mean on Sunday or Tuesday?”

Marlene smirks.

“Whatever,” James says, but he’s smiling. “You’re all just jealous, Y/N too. Remus, you’d better take good care of this one. She’s got high standards, apparently.”

Now your face is warming too, and Remus nudges you with his shoulder. “It’s your turn, love,” he says. “Get him back.”

You grin. “Excellent idea. James, did you sleep in your bed after you thought Sirius had sex in it?”

James eyes go wide behind his glasses as his cheeks redden, and Remus chuckles beside you.

As usual, it’s you and Remus cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed. James would typically at least offer to help, but he’s busy patting Sirius’ back as his friend purges everything he drank tonight in the community bathroom. You’d offered to tidy yourself and let Remus go upstairs, but he’d only said “don’t be silly” and started picking up discarded cups alongside you.

“It got a bit much tonight, didn’t it?” you ask, aiming for casual but only hitting awkward.

Remus hums. “I don’t think any more than usual.” He gives you a knowing look, made worse by his tiny smile. “They don’t usually pick on you, though, so I’m sure it felt different.”

You laugh nervously. “I guess so. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it, huh?”

“Well, they make it easy to dish,” he says mildly. “Anyway, it’s like you said. If you’d even said you’d kiss any of them, they’d never’ve shut up about it.”

You tense but nod, bending to dab at a stain of spilled drink someone left in the rug. “Yup. That’s why I picked you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

You turn, and Remus is looking at you evenly despite his flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says softly, kindly, “that if they’d asked me, I would’ve picked you too. So I guess I’m just wondering, would you have picked me, if you weren’t worried about everyone teasing you?”

The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s ready to accept whatever answer you give. Remus is watching you curiously, but there’s a bashfulness around his eyes. He wants to know, but he’ll let you off the hook in a second if you indicate that’s what you want.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I’d pick you.”

Remus looks like the breath goes out of him. He takes a step toward you. “Why?”

“I don’t need a reason,” you admit. Not one that makes sense, anyway. It’s just him.

Remus’ smile is borderline shy. “I’ve got tons.”

“Yeah?” It’s more breath than word.

“Mhm. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“That’s okay,” you say, and rise on your tiptoes, kissing him.

Remus kisses just like you knew he would. Soft and sweet, with little hints of urgency in the press of his hand against your back, the insistent sound he makes in the back of his throat. And you don’t need a single reason to want to kiss Remus Lupin, but you’ve got tons too.

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carolmunson · 9 months

Text

caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?”

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.”

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.”

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff.

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.”

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.” The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt.

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset.

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?” "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face.

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.”

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.”

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.”

“I haven’t even told Steve.”

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?”

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth. “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.”

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.”

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?”

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months

Text

My Sunshine

Count Alexei Vronsky x wife!reader

Summary: When Alexei brought you a kitten, he didn't think you would spend your entire time with her.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mild jealousy

i hope you like it <3 @vanessavampiaives

Count Alexei Vronsky doesn't usually have any reason to be jealous.

He's devilishly handsome and incredibly wealthy, and more importantly, he has you.

His lovely wife, whom he loves dearly and who he knows loves him just as much. Since you met him, he'd fallen for you hard and you remain the sun he revolves around.

So, when he comes back home one evening with a small basket and calls your name, he's expecting you to greet him like you usually would: with a hug.

Instead, just as you prepare to rush up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, you make a small squeal and cover your mouth as you see the basket. "Alexei, what is this?" you whisper as he chuckles and holds out the basket for you.

You peer inside and when you pull up the blankets and see a small soft bundle of white fur, your heart almost explodes. You look up at your husband, a wide smile curling your lips. "Oh! Is that for me?"

Alexei smiles. He kneels down to put the basket on the floor. You mimic him and watch happily as he gently picks up the kitten in his hands and lifts her out of the cushions in the basket. The kitten yawns, scrunching her little pink nose, and looks up, blinking with her blue eyes as she looks at you.

"He's adorable," you say, moving your dress so you can fully sit on the floor.

"She is all yours, my love," Alexei passes the kitten to you, joining you on the floor as he crosses his legs. "Do you like her?" he asks expectantly, leaning in and smoothing his knuckle under the kitten's chin. The small kitten meows, and you don't know if it is a sound of disapproval or enjoyment.

You caress her carefully. She's so tiny in your arms. "I love her," you whisper, looking into your husband's eyes and sending him a sweet smile.

"What did I do to receive such a sweet present?"

Alexei chuckles and stands up. He dusts his uniform and leans down, resting his hand under your chin to pull your head up to him. He kisses your forehead gently. "Do I need a reason to spoil my darling?" he teases, smirking a little before he adds, "I listen to you, you know. I know you've been wanting a cat for a while and I couldn't resist when I saw this precious little thing."

You cradle the kitten in your arms, eyes lighting up as you feel the small animal start to purr against your hands. "She's lovely, thank you," you say sincerely and Alexei's heart swells seeing the pretty smile that gracious your lips. He tucks some hair behind your ear and hums warmly.

His happiness is short-lived considering all you talk about for the next week is Princess. He's convinced you've spent more of your time petting that cat than talking with him.

It's a Sunday morning and you're sitting on the couch with Princess curled up in your lap as you scratch behind her ears. You're humming softly, whispering praises as she purrs.

Alexei walks in, adjusting the cuffs of his suit and his eyes narrow when he sees you. He sighs and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "You know you don't have to be with her all the time," he states, his voice a little strained.

Your expression twists into concern and you look up at your husband. "What do you mean?" you ask quietly, continuing to caress Princess's fur.

Alexei sighs again, this time walking over and sitting next to you. "I mean you're always with her. Always. She sleeps in between us in our bed goddamnit!" he runs a hand through his blond curls, seeming exhausted and his curse earns him a frown. "And it would all be okay, but it's been days. And I miss you."

You catch on to his tone and smirk. "Honey, please tell me you aren't jealous of a kitten, are you?"

Alexei's cheeks turn crimson and he coughs. "Of course, I'm not, that would be ridiculous."

"Seems like you are," you giggle, scratching Princess's ear one last time before picking her up and placing her down at your feet. Completely unbothered by the change, Princess starts to lick and clean her leg.

You turn to Alexei, gently ruffling his hair. "All you had to say was that you wanted some pets too and I would have happily given you some," you joke with a smile.

He pushes your hand away, still embarrassed. However, his chest feels full as he enjoys your attention. He's like a starved man and he'll take whatever he can have. "Don't laugh at me, love."

You look up at him, running your finger across his jaw. "You're cute when you're jealous."

Alexei rolls his eyes and leans down to capture your lips in his. He kisses you deeply and then mumbles against your lips, "I love you. I absolutely adore you. I worship you, my dear."

You feel your cheeks becoming warm at this and you kiss him back. "I love you too, you silly man," you say after a moment, pulling away. Your words are interrupted by Princess jumping onto Alexei's lap. He looks down at the small animal, unsure what to do as she curls up into a small ball. Your smile widens. "She likes you," the happiness in your voice fills Alexei with warmth.

He brings his large hand over Princess's head and starts to pet her. "I will admit, she's very cute," he whispers and then looks at you from the corner of his eye, smirking, "Although, not cute enough to warrant ignoring your husband."

You swat his arm, frowning, "Oh shush," you stare up at him fondly, "You must know I love you more than a cat, right?”

Alexei leans over, careful not to disturb Princess, and kisses your lips. "Mmm, if you say so, my lovely," he says, smiling against your lips.

You pull away, that adorable frown Alexei guiltily loves appearing in between your eyebrows. "I mean it," your voice is like velvet and Alexei's hand finds your cheek. His thumb caresses your skin and you subconsciously move into his touch.

"I know you do love," he murmurs, "I'm just teasing you."

You smile at him, your eyes shining. Just like the sun, he thinks, and for a moment he feels blinded by your beauty and then kisses you again.

#alexei vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky #count alexei vronsky x reader #count alexei vronsky #anna karenina 2012 #anna karenina #aaron taylor johnson #atj #alexei vronsky fluff #alexei vronsky x you #aaron taylor johnson fic #count vronsky x reader #count vronsky

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happiest-hotch · 1 year

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Mother's Day

Summary: Jack has a very important, surprise gift to give you on a special holiday for your inaugural celebrations together

Paring: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

WC: 1.4k

Whenever he can, Aaron leaves work early to get Jack. Thankfully, with Strauss's return, he's not still stuck doing two jobs, so he finishes his work in time to get Jack from school. You also love when he has days like that because it means he'll cook something delicious and homemade, maybe even dessert if Jack has anything to say about it.

Jack gets into the car like any other day, but what he says isn't the typical comment about his day or request for an afternoon activity. "Did you know it's Mother's Day this weekend?" Jack asks.

Aaron's heart clenches in his chest. Mother's Days, birthdays, Christmases, and the anniversary of Haley's death are all especially hard days for Jack, and Aaron tries his best to support his son. "Do you want to talk about mom?" He asks softly as he drives. Since Jack doesn't remember a lot of it, Aaron fills in the blanks and answers the questions.

"No, I might want to talk to her tonight, but I want to get a present," Jack explains.

Aaron frowns a little but accepts it. "We can do that. What do you want to get her?"

Jack's thinking face looks like his dad's, something you were the first to point out to Aaron. "I don't know." He admits. "You always get roses for Y/n so maybe I can get her flowers?"

That really throws Aaron, and it rapidly occurs to him that he and Jack aren't talking about the same person. "You want to get a present for Y/n?" He clarifies.

Jack shifts uncomfortably in his car seat, clearly nervous at his father's reaction. "I'm sorry. Is that wrong?"

Aaron can't shake his head fast enough. "No. No, of course not, buddy." He assures his son, reaching back with one hand to touch the boy's foot for extra reassurance. "I think she'd really like that. What made you think you want to get something for her?" He tries to ask it in a non-judgemental, casual tone.

"Well, in class, we were all talking about what we love about our moms, and a lot of the things that my friends were talking about are things that Y/n does for me." He explains, and Aaron feels his heart clench in the best way that time while he bites down a wide smile. "Mom is still my mom, and I'm not forgetting how she used to do those things for me, but Y/n is there for me too."

Aaron notices what he's emphasizing, and he's immensely proud of Jack for being able to express those feelings, understanding that appreciating his mom and recognizing your role in his life aren't mutually exclusive.

Then he's thinking about you as he absorbs the confession. And how lucky he is to have you. You have been a constant source of support and love, a beacon of hope and stability in the wake of their family tragedy, never anything but good to them. He feels so much joy and a tiny bit of sadness. He knows Haley would have loved you and appreciated how much you care for Jack, but he wishes she was there to see it.

He's choked up as he goes to speak. "Jack, that's very sweet of you, and I think, no, I know, Y/n feels the same way about you. She thinks you're the most amazing kid ever."

Jack smiles softly. "She does? Really?"

Aaron can't nod fast enough. "Yes, she always tells me how great she thinks you are."

"So we can get her a gift for her?" Jack confirms, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely." Aaron agrees, taking a right turn to the mall rather than a left to their home. "Whatever you want."

It's been such a long week of work and Saturday mornings are Jack's soccer games, so as soon as your Saturday movie night is over, you're fast asleep next to Aaron.

Like usual, he stirs beside you first on Sunday morning, but when you go to get up with him, he softly whispers for you to go back to sleep and that's very easy to do.

When you next wake up, the sun is creeping through the blinds at a different angle, signaling that you slept in for longer than you usually would.

There's a soft knock at the bedroom door before you can properly wake up and get out of bed, and you softly call out for who you expect to be Jack to come in.

You're right in your guess that it's Jack, who quickly jumps up onto the bed with you, followed by his father who has a breakfast tray with a big vase of flowers on it accompanying a delicious-looking plate of French toast.

"Wow, you've both been busy this morning." You mumble sleepily as you sit up to hug Jack who's jumping into your arms.

"Happy Mother's Day!" He cheers joyfully, and you're taken off guard by the greeting, completely shocked.

Your eyes dart to Aaron's to make sure you heard Jack correctly, and his wide smile confirms you have. He's looking between you both with so much love and tenderness, his heart so full it feels like it's bursting.

Your eyes fill with tears as you realize the enormity of what he's just said. "Thank you, Jack." You squeeze him even tighter in a hug, not wanting him to slip away from this perfect moment.

He pulls back and smiles at you before turning back to his dad. "Can we give it to her?" He asks.

"Sure, bud." Aaron agrees, setting the tray down over the top of your legs. He sits near the foot of the bed while Jack snuggles into your side.

Jack reaches forward to pick up the little box next to the breakfast. "Here." He hands it to you. "Happy Mother's Day. Thank you for caring so much about me."

You kiss his forehead, holding him tighter to his side as you gladly accept his thoughtful and unexpected gift. "You're very welcome. I love you, Jackers."

Whatever he has for you has to be jewelry from the small, flat shape of the box and the designer jewelry stamp. You open it up, and your heart melts more, if it were possible. What's inside is a gorgeous gold bracelet with a flat, circular charm, engraved with the letter J.

Jack touches it as your finger does. "It's a J for Jack."

You nod so you don't start crying too much. You're so overwhelmed by gratitude and happiness that you can't help but let one tear slip out.

"Thank you." You finally get the words out. "It's perfect and I love it so much. I'm going to wear it every day, so you're always with me."

Jack's grinning a proud grin, clearly proud of himself for picking it out. Aaron had told him how much you would love it, but seeing it confirms it for him. "I think it'll look beautiful on you." He tells you adorably.

You chuckle a little. "You're a sweet talker just like your dad, you know?"

Aaron laughs next to you, but Jack's confused at what your compliment means, and his attention is drawn elsewhere. "Daddy and I made French toast for me as well. Oh, and I got you flowers."

It's a gorgeous bunch of flowers, beautiful colors, and lovely smells. "Thank you so much. Both of you." You repeat to them, making sure they're feeling the reciprocated love you're feeling.

"You're welcome," Jack says politely.

Aaron leans over to kiss your forehead. "I love you." He whispers.

You whisper it back before looking back at your breakfast plate. "There's a lot of French toast here, so I might need some help eating it." You say suspiciously, looking between Jack and Aaron.

Jack's eyes light up like he's been waiting for you to offer him some of it, and you can't blame him, it looks and smells like restaurant quality and you know breakfast foods are Aaron's strong suit cooking-wise.

"I am kind of hungry." Jack agrees, smirking at you softly.

"Eat up then, bud." You say, offering him the first spoonful. "We've got lots of fun stuff to do today."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds family

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kindestofkings · 6 months

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what came first, the chicken or the dickhead [2/3]

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris (eventually, friends to lovers ofc)]

authors note: THANK YOU SOOO much for the love on part one guys I'm so overwhelemed 🥺 hope you guys enjoy this next part <33

yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

yourusername I'm sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now

Why? Oh, 'cause she's about kick off her first season with ferrari xx

view all 580 comments

landonorris shes in her reputation era 💅

yourusername i've trained you so well

ynfan1 I'm so excited to see you in that red car ❤️🔥

Racerbia I can't believe my bestie is a FERRARI DRIVER

yourusername I know can you believe it!! best of luck with your season this year <33

charles_leclerc I did not know you joining the team would result in me learning so many taylor swift lyrics

landonorris just you wait until she starts sending you fan theories.. yourusername charlie you'd get an A in taylor swift theory and lyric knowledge, dont fight it !! f1fan she calls him charlie they have to be dating!

ynfan1 charles_leclerc what's your favourite Tswift album?

charles_leclerc I think its Red charles_leclerc (TAYLOR'S VERSION THO) yourusername phew that was a close one

taylorswift never seen a getaway car driver look so good, knock em dead 🖤

yourusername omgomgomgomgomgomg mother, I mean miss Swift its an honour landonorris oh thats why shes inconsolably crying alex_albon is that what that scream was? ynfan2 shes been broken

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername and others

scuderiaferrari red era vibes with our dynamic duo locking it down here in bahrain! our two drivers are ready for sunday 👊

view all 290 comments

ynfan1 the power of yourusername, converting the whole ferrari team into being swifties 😂

yourusername you know it! I'm a swiftie first, a media nightmare second and THEN a f1 driver

f1fan enough with the pop culture comparisons. what matters is the race, not taylor swift. Let the performance do the talking

ynfan2 how sad is your little life??

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername P3 babyyy, while your out here running your mouth still I'm busy getting on to that podium. Bahrin you were beautiful, thank you to the team and to charles for all the support this weekend, and just in general ❤️

congrats maxverstappen1 on opening the season with such a surprising (not) win! was a fun fight 😂

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maxverstappen1 think you going to be a reoccurring problem now!

yourusername it me hi! im the problem its me xx (liked by taylorswift and others)

ynfan1 I never expected the f1/taylor swift cross over but i love this

f1fan making the tifosi so proud 👊❤️

maxfewtrell fantastic drive, so proud!!!

yourusername maxi my boy <3

charles_leclerc posted to their story!

-@carlossainz55 would never have done this to me 😞

f1wagsupdates

liked by yncharlesshipper and others

f1wagsupdates in the week coming to the monaco grand prix, it appears the two ferrari drivers are spending time together with leclerc's family! seems like a bit more than just teammate bonding 👀

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yncharlesshipper wow the family, must be serious

ynlando4ever please please please be besties

ynfan1 its getting hard to be delulu about this 😀

yourusername posted a photo to their story!

Mwahahahah mama leclerc the women than you are

replies

charles_leclerc when did this exchange happen 😂 arthur_leclerc 😂 😂 😂 😂 landonorris troy bolten and justin beiber call they want hair tips x

yourusername

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yourusername MONACOOOO its race day and you best believe I'm bringing my A game in defensive racing. il predestinato will break his monaco curse if its the last thing I do 😤

charles_leclerc starting p1 go slay this thing bestie!!

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charles_leclerc the best 👊

scuderiaferrari teamwork makes the dream work 🔥

f1fan gasly could NEVER with the teamwork

ynfan1 ouch that bestie has gotta hurt 😬

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername and others

charles_leclerc best. day. ever.

winning in red and winning at home has always been the dream, thank you thank you everyone for the support in getting here! special thanks to yourusername for the incredibly defense and helping reach my dream 🫶

this one's for you, monaco!

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scuderiaferrari we always knew you could do it 👊🔥

yourusername CHARLIEEE always knew you could do it !

carlossainz55 amazing felicidades

charles_leclerc thank you thank you

maxverstappen1 hate to lose but congrats mate!

pierregasly living out your destiny 💪 that was all you charles!

ynfan1 pierre try not to make a petty comment challenge: FAILED (liked by yourusername)

f1fan monaco belongs to you, il predestinato!!!

yourusername posted a photo to their story!

they both prefer each other over me guys help 😭😭

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landonorris my best girl 🥰 -> me?? so kind! landonorris 😑😑

I just tagged a few peps that I thought were waiting out for part 2! let me know if you're not comfortable being tagged :))

taglist: @kissesandmartinis @kissesandmartinis @vellicora @reidside @leclercin16

2/3 , part three is coming later tonight its gonna be fluffy i promise 💓

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #f1driver!reader #smau

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popponn · 8 months

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call you later; 1.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. characters: isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, seishirou nagi. [ part 2 : rin, bachira ]

isagi yoichi

Probably felt a little bit sad you didn’t pick up. You are probably his first crush—and only, for a long time, maybe, and this boy is committed with capital C when he is into something—so don’t be too hard on him. Like, hey, his #2 after the soccer itself didn’t pick up his phone? Poor guy.

But like the considerate boy off the pitch he is, Yoichi will immediately give you a brief of what he wanted to tell you before leaving the classic note of ‘i will call you again later’. It won’t be overly long, as he prefers to talk to you rather than to the empty void of a voicemail. Or at least he intends so to seem polite and proper, until he stutters and tripped all over his words a little bit. It’s cute though.

All in all, probably one of the most normal guy from Blue Lock, as usual, and whatever sad feelings he had from getting his call not being picked up will be gone the moment he got the chance to talk to you. A little advice, just make sure to actually call him later—knowing you reach out to him as soon as you can will make Mr. Egoist pretty happy.

“Uh, so… are you busy? Wait—you are not picking up of course you are busy…” Yoichi trailed off with a nervous laugh. “But, so, anyway, about our promise to walk around Saitama, I was wondering if your schedule is free this Sunday? I got two weeks off Blue Lock but I kinda want to make sure we can do it as soon as we can, so if anything comes up—ah, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”

It took Yoichi a few seconds to gather his composure before he continued, “I mean, uh, yeah, I just want to do it with you soon. I will call you again so we can talk about it later! Work hard, or have a good time! See you!”

itoshi sae

First of all, how dare you. He is famous and probably have people lining up for his number while you get him punching your number and didn’t pick up. Just for that, Sae might throw a tantrum, albeit a silent one.

On a more serious note, he will raise an eyebrow honestly, especially if you are the type to usually answer. But he is pretty independent most of the time, so he will only left a few words on the voice mail. In some occasions, though, when he just calls for the sake of listening to you, he will feel a little bit down. You can cheer him up later—you should, actually. Sometimes talking with Sae requires advanced mind reading technique and when he is a little bit down or pissed you really have to use that skill. Because boy, this guy is pretty constipated emotionally.

So, end notes, just call him real soon, okay? He might act cold and tough but he is also someone whose favorite show is Chibi Maruko-chan. He won’t say much in the voicemail or act like it afterwards, but he might really wait for you to call back, especially if he didn’t hear anything from or about you for a day. Though, honestly, just call him back or answer his next call before five seconds so everyone could be saved from his scathing vocabularies.

“What do you want for dinner? I’m picking you up later,” Sae said without wasting a second. “Hurry up and decide, then call me soon, got it? And in case you are thinking of anything funny, finish whatever you are working on first, then call me as soon as possible.”

For a moment, it was as if he was done. Then, a few beats of silence passed and he continued, “…and honestly… nevermind. Just call me soon.”

nagi seishirou

Yeah, let’s be real—he won’t leave a note and just give up. He willed out energy to call you first and you asked more from him? Wow. The fucking audacity.

But, let’s say, he really really wants to talk to you at the time and is in a really really really good mood—it will be long, if only for the long pauses. He will speaks sparsely, like the personification of bullet notes, as he doesn’t really see the point in talking if you are not really there to begin with. But, at the same time, Nagi Seishirou is also a Blue Lock egoist and he thinks having you listen to his voice note for a long time is not exactly a bad thought.

In the end, though, he really just want to hear your voice, actually. So, sooner or later, he will end the note with a ‘call me soon’ and plays a few games while waiting for you. The guy really need to recharge whatever small battery he has with you, so you really better call back if you don’t want to deal with a pouty Nagi holding a petty grudge for three minutes. And come on, do it for Reo, dude has way too much on his plate already.

“Eh, why are you not picking up?” Seishirou started with a complain, before immediately staying silent for a long time. Clearly on purpose, rather than for trying to remember something. “…I want to talk to you, so call me later, ‘kay?” he continued, in the end. “Choki also misses you by the way. You love Choki, right? So you really better call me back.”

Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, I also have something I want to show you. So, let’s meet up next week. That’s all. Later.”

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock scenarios #nagi seishiro #itoshi sae #nagi seishirou #isagi yoichi #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x reader #nagi seishirou x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #nagi seishirou fluff #i finally write a scenario!!!!! yay!!!#you can see who is my oshii but trust me i love em all

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andysorbit · 1 year

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1 Corinthians 6:19 (M)

Church boy!Doyoung x church girl!reader Minors, fuck outta here Warnings: corruption?, some bible verses, Siwon is an asshole, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, light dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, choking, overstimulation Is this blasphemy??? Idk sorry to those who are religious? I mean if you're reading this then... ya know.

Word count: 7.2k?? I know it's a lot

"He's not gonna take the bait. He's got a crucifix up his ass," Jaemin says and rolls his eyes.

The church basement is quiet and one thing you've all learned from being in this... Holy Place... is how to successfully whisper in a room so quiet that even Hellen Keller could hear a mouse piss on cotton.

Joy leans in closer but never takes her eyes away from her Bible, "Y/n, he's not interested. You need to learn to quit while you're ahead. Siwon has him on a leash," she mutters.

"No, Jesus has him on a leash," Jaemin counters.

You pretend you don't hear them and turn back to Kun, "You got his cousin to give you a chance. He can't be that much different."

Kun looks across at Joy and smirks, "Don't say it like that... you sound like I used her," he mumbles.

Joy chuckles softly, "You were using me. You just didn't bank on getting used."

"And that's why I love you," he sighs.

Joy shakes her head, "You think you love me."

Your eyes wander back over to Doyoung's face and you watch him closely.

Sunday school is over for the day and you're all left to prepare for next week's lesson.

It's the same ritualistic pattern that’s posted on a bulletin board in Pastor Siwon's obsurdly perfect writing:

Sunday Schedule

Sunday school must begin at 8 AM and end by no later than 8:50 AM.

Breakfast/refreshments to be served from 8:55 AM to 9:15 AM.

Sunday school instructors are to work on next week's lesson from 9:00 AM to 9:45 AM

Everyone must be upstairs and seated in the sanctuary by 9:55 AM

Siwon's a bitch.

He hates women, gay people, and anyone he can't use God to manipulate. He also hates his brother Doyoung.

Siwon's father wanted Doyoung to lead the church in the event that he were to suddenly die. It was a discussion that had been talked about for years.

Nobody paid it much attention until, of course, their father did suddenly die.

The entire church- including Siwon's own wife- voted for Doyoung to lead but Doyoung, being an obedient little brother, declined.

"I'm just happy to be here and serve God with you all. Siwon hyung is more equipped to lead you than I am and I'm more than happy to continue teaching Sunday school with the little ones. If leading a church is my calling, our Savior will make me ready for that day but until then, let's just praise Him and do our best to show His glory."

That day, you were more than a little disappointed to say the least. You knew he'd look good in a clergy robe but here he is, still teaching the little ones.

Doyoung instructs the preschoolers, Kun instructs grades one through three, Jaemin instructs grades four through six, Joy instructs grades seven through nine, and you teach grades ten through twelve.

You don't enjoy it but you do it. You don't enjoy this church but you still come. Not because you feel obligated but because you don't want your funds cut.

None of you do.

Doyoung is the only one who still comes to church willingly, he prays with fervency, and cries during worship.

Sometimes, you wonder if he cries because he really feels God's presence or if that's his subconscious pleading for release from the Holy sunken place.

"I have to teach the kids about abstinence. I hate that," Joy mutters and snaps you out of your trance.

"Because you're a godless whore?" Jaemin laughs quietly.

Surprisingly, she nods, "I feel like a hypocrite."

"But you're not," You tell her. She smiles at you appreciatively.

"Ask Doyoung to help you. He's read the whole fuckin' Bible cover to cover four times already." Jaemin says.

You perk up when you hear Doyoung's folding chair softly drag across the concrete floor.

"Thirsty ass," Jaemin Snickers.

"Shut the fuck up," You hiss and drop your eyes back down to your Bible.

"Ask him for me, Y/n," Joy whispers.

"Hey, Doyoung?" You say as you close your Bible.

The room feels even hotter and you lock eyes with him.

He gives you the warmest smile, "Yes, Y/n?"

"Joy has to teach about abstinence and she needs help but she's not sure how to ask you. She's awkward about it," You tell him.

He smiles and nods at you then looks over at Joy, "You're such a jelly belly, Joy," He glances at the clock behind you, "Well, we have ten minutes. I finished early so I can help you."

He sits down in the empty chair beside yours and opens his Bible,

"I really like first Corinthians chapter six verse... nineteen. It.. speaks on how our bodies are temples and how they belong to God. I think that's a good way to start the conversation. You have to remember, Joy, your job is scratch the surface. They'll have a deeper discussion with their parents. You really don't wanna cross that boundary,"

Joy nods. This is her first go round with Sunday school. Yeri used to teach it but she just disappeared one day. There were rumors that she had gotten pregnant and that's why she stopped coming with her parents.

It's none of your business, though.

You sit and listen to him explain things so happily. His eyes light up and for a moment, you wish you were God just so he could make your own name sound so beautiful.

"I hope I was able to help you with this. If you need any help, don't be scared to ask. I'm here as much as I can be. Closed mouths can't get fed," Doyoung says warmly.

Jaemin snorts and masks it with a cough, "Sorry," he whispers.

Everyone gets up and Doyoung softly touches your arm, "Can I talk to guys before we go up?" he asks. You nod and watch as your friends glance at each other with befuddled expressions.

"Why don't you guys like me?" he asks and you feel your heart break.

"What? Who said that? Doyoung, who said that to you?" You ask him softly.

"My brother did. He said that... you guys talk about me behind my back and- I just wanna know what I did. I haven't made you feel uncomfortable, have I?" he searches your face for an answer and you can't believe he thinks that.

"Doyoung, we thought you didn't like us. You never sit with us and we thought you just preferred your own company," Kun says apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I- we never meant to make you feel that way. Especially me. We would love it if you sat with us," You say eagerly.

"Oh, yeah. Especially her," Jaemin agrees. You whip your head around to glare at Jaemin and he throws his hands up in concession.

You turn back to Doyoung and he smiles, "I know I can be a little closed off sometimes. Please don't hold it against me," he chuckles.

"It's no problem. We know you mean well," Jaemin says with a tight smile.

He's always been a bit stand-offish with Doyoung. How Siwon could have such a good brother perplexes him.

Doyoung smiles, "Okay. Next Sunday, I'm with you guys."

You nod, "I'm looking forward to it!"

Your week is slow and you're actually excited to be going to church. You pick Jaemin up on your way and he smokes as you drive.

"This shit better be aired out before we get there," You tell him.

He shrugs, "You say that every Sunday. Has it ever not been aired out?"

"Got me there," You concede.

Jaemin tosses his cigarette out the window at the red light. As you turn the block and into the parking lot, you see Doyoung get out of his car.

As always, he's neat and casual; opting for his usual solid-colored slacks and polo shirt. He looks so good.

"As much as I hate to say this, you're gonna have to stop picking me up if you're gonna get him to nail you to a cross," Jaemin says as you're parking your car.

"I hope you get lung cancer," You sigh.

Jaemin laughs, "You don't mean that."

When you get out, you see Doyoung leaning against his car.

He's waiting for you.

"Good morning!" he cheers.

"Good morning," You say back.

Jaemin gives him a wave, "He's trying to figure us out," he murmurs.

"Then stop cockblocking," You mumble back.

"I'm gonna head in. I have to help the kids with a few things. Thanks for the ride, Y/n," Jaemin says.

Doyoung squeezes his Bible and looks over at you, "So you never need any help with Sunday school. How is it?" He asks.

"It's good. The kids are great. Yeri took good care of them before they graduated," You tell him.

He nods, "Hey... uh... I was wondering if you wanted to um... go with me to the church picnic next month? Siwon's been..." he trails off because he's obviously trying not to badmouth his brother.

"Nagging you?" You ask quietly.

He freezes like a startled rabbit then nods, "Yeah," he whispers.

"You don't have to be married until you're ready. Besides... I'm not marrying you," You laugh.

Doyoung laughs too, "You know how he is... why he married Taeyeon and all that," he sighs.

"He just wanted a piece of ass and didn't wanna burn in hell for it?" You blurt out.

Doyoung, surprisingly, bursts out laughing, "Is he that obvious?" he says with an exasperated smile.

He's so handsome.

"Yeah," You say, "He is."

Sunday school is mundane as usual and when it's over, Doyoung comes to sit with you. Right beside you to be specific.

Jaemin smirks.

People in the congregation tried to rally for you and Jaemin to date and prelude to marriage but that would never happen.

Jaemin's gay and he's fucking the choir director's son Renjun but that, along with everything else that's sinful in this church, is none of your business. He's your friend and you love him but he's private about his affairs.

Everyone has a level of privacy they maintain in order to cover their own asses. He trusts you with his life but he stays discreet to keep your hands clean.

"It's my week to clean the church," Doyoung sighs.

"Tough luck," Joy laughs, "I had last week."

"I'll be okay," Doyoung says, "It's my own fault for staying up so late."

"Y/n can help you. It's not like she has anything to do later," Kun pipes up.

"No, that's okay," Doyoung says softly, "If she doesn't wan-"

"I really don't have anything to do later and you look pretty tired. I don't mind helping you," You say eagerly and Jaemin stiffles a laugh.

After service, you seek out Doyoung and he pulls you to the side, "Wait for everyone to leave. It'll make more sense once they do," he whispers.

So you say your goodbyes and avoid Siwon's leering eyes.

Once the church is empty, Doyoung smiles at you, "Come with me," he says cheerfully as he leads you to the sound booth.

"This is why it always takes me so long to finish."

He tinkers with his phone and when Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder begins playing, he looks over at you, "Doesn't it sound so good in the church? The way it echoes?" he says as he leans in close enough for you to hear him.

The chill that rushes down your spine sends you into a frenzy and Doyoung notices. Your voice fails you so you nod.

He doesn't say anything but he does hold your gaze. He's hard to read but you don't worry.

You clean and enjoy his playlist. One thing that hasn't changed is his love for Motown. As you clean, you sing together and when he's feeling extra playful, he keeps his eyes trained on yours and sings to you.

For a moment, you think that he wants you too.

When Doyoung comes to pick you up for the picnic, he's dressed in a seafoam green t-shirt, blue jeans, and white Keds.

He beams at you as he leans against the car, "What are the chances?" he says as he gestures to your seafoam green knee-length midi dress and white Keds.

"I definitely look better," You chuckle as you walk towards him. He opens the passenger door for you, "You look beautiful," he says as his eyes roam over you. "Thank you, Doyoung," You say as you hold his gaze, "You look really good too."

You can't look away from him and it's obvious he's losing the battle as well.

He draws in closer to you and hesitates. You reach out to gently place your hand on his cheek,

"I'm not gonna stop you if that's what you're waiting for."

Doyoung slots his lips against yours and kisses you slowly.

His kiss is essentially who he is; warm, gentle, wholesome.

He slinks an arm around to draw you closer, "Is this okay?" he asks you.

You nod and melt against the firmness of his body. He sets your insides on fire and the subtle strength of his hold on you sends a frenzied storm straight down to the pit of your stomach.

You can already feel your panties soaking.

He breaks the kiss and smiles at you then dips back down to kiss you once more,

"We should... get going," he says into your ear and it's so obvious that he wants to press a kiss to your neck.

"Let me go first," You chuckle.

He loosens his grip on you and smiles, "Whoops," he laughs softly.

"We're gonna be late," He says and it's more to himself because he's very much aware that he's the holdup.

You slip down into the car and look up at him.

He stares back at you and you can see his mind racing. He takes a deep breath and wets his lips with his tongue before closing the passenger door.

You watch him go behind the car and stop for a moment; bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prays. You know he's asking for forgiveness and strength.

He finally moves around to the driver's seat and gets in; he seems ready to pull off but he hesitates,

"Traveling mercies," he says softly and bows his head.

You follow suit and he prays,

"Blessed Father God, thank you for giving us another opportunity to live another day in your glory. Please be with us as we travel today. We're thankful as always for your love and protection. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," You whisper.

He starts the car and his motown playlist picks up from the middle of Mama’s Pearl by the Jackson 5 and you smile.

As he drives, you both chat about work and sometimes stop to sing because the music is just too good.

"You're the only person who sings with me," he says as he pulls into the church parking lot.

"Am I?" You ask incredulously, "How could anyone not wanna sing with you?"

Doyoung shrugs, "I dunno... I don't mind. I think I prefer if it's only you anyway."

You smile at him and he puts the car in park before cutting the engine.

Your mind wanders back to when you were both younger and how close you were to each other.

As if he read your mind, he pipes up,

"What happened to us?"

"I don't know, Doyoung, but I miss you," You reply.

"I think I let Siwon steer me too much. He always said you were trouble and I'd be getting myself a one-way ticket to hell if I stuck around you..." he trails off.

"Ouch," You grunt.

"I'm sorry I told you that," he says apologetically.

"Don't be... I kinda already knew... but why the sudden change? Are you just trying to spite him?" You ask.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Not at all. I just... I'm tired of trusting him so blindly... he's not a good person."

You arch your eyebrows in surprise, "It's okay that you trusted him. He's your brother and you love him. There's nothing wrong with that."

He nods and then opens his door, "I'll get your door for you. Stay put," he says.

He comes around and opens your door. As you get out, you see Siwon pull in a few spots down.

He's alone.

He gets out of comes over with a confused smile, "Sister, your dress is mighty short," he says.

"And considering there's a dresses only code for a picnic, so is my patience," You say with a tight smile.

Siwon nods and stands down, "Fair enough," he concedes before looking over at Doyoung, "Is she your date?"

Doyoung nods, "We agreed to come together so yes... she is."

Siwon smiles. "Well it is time you started seeking out a wife."

Doyoung shakes his head, "It's not a job hunt, hyung. I'll know when it's time," he says sheepishly.

"Of course," Siwon says with a smile, "I'll see you guys 'round back."

When he leaves, Doyoung looks at you, "I'll leave early if you do."

"Definitely. How long should we stay?" You ask him.

"I say we give it about an hour. Eat light. I'll cook for you," he says with a shy smile.

"You're gonna cook for me? Get outta here," You say with surprised smile.

"It's a hobby... no big deal," he says coolly.

He's pulling you in.

You watch as Siwon stands at the grill and burns a fourth burger. It's a shame that hardly anyone is eating and those who are, obviously aren't enjoying the food.

You're close enough to hear him mutter to himself about it. Renjun comes over, "Pastor, I can take it from here." he says with a sheepish smile.

Siwon turns him away just as he has the others but Renjun doesn't back down; instead, he drops all pretenses of pleasantries and gently pries the spatula out of Siwon's hand, "Nobody likes your food. Look around," he says.

"They're burgers, Renjun. Taeyeon did this all by herself last year. How hard can it be?" Siwon scoffs.

"Rocket science since nobody can tell your burgers from a hockey puck now... move. Over," Renjun says shortly.

Siwon sighs and moves over, "Everyone's so mean today. First Y/n and her dress now you and these burgers."

Renjun flips the burgers with ease and rolls his eyes, "We're only two people- not the whole world and there's nothing wrong with Y/n's dress. She looks pretty. If you're feeling some type of way about her kneecaps then that's something you should work out with God. Don't put the blame on her for it."

Renjun looks at you and winks. You smile back and fight back your laughter. You take a sip of your soda and watch Doyoung come over to you.

"Ready to go?" he asks you softly.

You nod, "Yeah... I am."

"Head into the church. I'll count to seventy and meet you by the nursery," he says.

You nod and stand up.

You head inside and wait for him.

You send Jaemin a text:

Y/n: he's gonna cook for me 😳

Jaemin: CAN I GET TO DA YAMZ??? SWEET YAAAAAAMZ!!! 😩😩😩💦💦💦💦🍑🍑🍑🍑🍆🍆🍆🍆

Y/n: Why did I even bother telling you 🙄

Doyoung comes around the corner and you slip your phone back into your bag. He takes your hand,

"Come on."

Doyoung's house is a cozy one level cottage. He's big on earth tones.

"This is your house? It suits you, Doyoung," You gush as he unlocks the front door. The aroma of clove hits you and for only a breadth of a second, you imagine waiting for him in this very foyer after he's come home from along day of work.

"Is that a good thing?" he laughs.

"Yeah. Your house is really cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"I don't kiss ugly men."

He turns to you and smirks, "That was... my first kiss y'know."

"No," You gasp.

He nods, "Yep."

"Doyoung, be serious!" You exclaim because there is no way in hell he could've kissed you that well if it was his first time.

"I am! Why is that so hard to believe?" he laughs.

"It was too good... just too good," You say incredulously.

He gives you a smug smile, "My ego's gonna skyrocket. Be quiet."

You stare at him with bewildered eyes and he waves a hand at you, "Come on. I know you're hungry."

His kitchen is decorated in shades of terracotta. You look around at the neatness of everything.

After you take turns washing your hands, Doyoung pulls a bowl of fruit salad out of his refrigerator, "I made this for the picnic but I forgot it so eat as much as you want because I don't want it to go to waste but I'm definitely not going back to drop it off."

You laugh and pop a grape into your mouth. His eyes linger on your mouth so you take the opportunity to pick up a pineapple chunk and bite into it slowly.

The blush spreads across his cheeks but he can't look away, "I um... what are you hungry for?"

"Whatever you wanna cook. I just wanna eat," You say between bites.

Doyoung smiles at you, "Do you want... rosemary chicken? I have a really good recipe and I still have fresh rosemary left," he rings his hands out nervously.

"That sounds so good!" You exclaim.

You watch Doyoung prepare ingredients and you make small talk and of course, he plays some music; this time opting for a soft jazz playlist.

"You like carrots?" He asks as he chops up a carrot.

"Eh... not raw," You say with a frown. You watch him hold a slice out for you.

"Do it for me. It's good for your eyes. They're too pretty to not be taken care of. Say 'ah'. C'mon," he says eagerly.

You frown a little deeper and pull back.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to scratch you off my potential wife list. You're too disobedient. Yuck," he says with mock disgust and a sassy roll of his own pretty eyes.

You both cackle and you let him ease the carrot slice into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he hums.

You both freeze and the silence that hangs over his playlist is deafening.

"What?" You grunt.

"I'm so sorry I said that," he says just above a whisper.

"Why would you be sorry you said that?" You ask him as you pucker your lips suspiciously.

Doyoung blushes again, "I don't... know," he replies and pops his lips. He tries not to smirk but he fails and he gives you a gentle brush across your cheek with his knuckles.

You lean into his hand and he gives you a knowing look.

When the food is ready, Doyoung seats you at his breakfast nook, "Lunch is served," he says as he sets your plate down in front of you.

"Wow... Doyoung, it's almost too pretty to eat," You say as you look at the plate and then up at him.

He smiles and turns to get his own plate. He brings it to the table and sits across from you. He reaches his hands across to take yours,

"Will you lead us in saying grace, sister?"

He's definitely flirting.

"Um... dear Lord, thank you for this food we're about to eat, bless the hands of the chef, and bless us as we take privilege in enjoying this meal," You say softly.

Doyoung smiles and stands back up, "I forgot the wine," he says as he crosses the kitchen to retrieve it from the refrigerator before getting two wine glasses from the cabinet.

"So... bless the hands of the chef, huh?" he says as he pops the cork.

You watch him bring the bottle and the glasses over, "Yeah... you did a great job," You say.

He fills your glass and then his own, "Bless the mouths that enjoy it," he counters as he holds his glass up.

You clink your glass against his as you nod in agreement, "Amen."

You can't conceive how Doyoung's meal can taste better than it looks but somehow, it's possible. As you finish off your wine, Doyoung clears the table.

"Doyoung, that was the best meal I've ever eaten," You say as you lean back and sigh.

Doyoung's face lightens up, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Next time, I'll bake you something," he says and winks at you.

"Bake me something?" You gasp, "You're gonna bake for me too?"

Doyoung nods, "I told you, it's just a hobby."

"That's a great hobby. You're really good at it," You tell him.

"Siwon hates that I do this... he says it's menial woman's work but I like doing it and I like being useful. I don't want my wife to cook for me because she has to... I want her to cook for me because she likes me,"

You tilt your head "Because she likes you?" You ask him.

"Yeah," Doyoung nods, "Loving someone and liking someone are often two very different things. You can love someone and not like them. I love my brother but I don't like him... I want my wife to like me. I want her to smile when she thinks about me. I don't want what Siwon has with Taeyeon. I want my wife to see me as someone worthy of respect and not as someone she feels religiously obligated to respect."

You nod in agreement, "That's a good thing to want. There's nothing wrong with that." You reply.

Doyoung leans over the sink, "I don't want things to be traditional," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" You egg him on. You know the wine has him on the cusp of saying something that he normally wouldn't say.

"I- I don't... I don't wanna marry a woman who gives herself to me because the Bible says we have to reproduce. I wanna marry a woman who jumps into bed with me because she thinks I'm hot and I turn her on, I want her to... to think about me and squeeze her thighs together because I just do it for her. I don't believe that love has to be so... boring. Why would God even give us all of these feelings if we're supposed to just ignore them?" he finally says.

You sit in silence and Doyoung chuckles.

"Have I said too much?" he asks as he turns to look at you.

"No... of course not. I don't... see where you're wrong. You deserve that... Besides, if it's in us, it's meant to be enjoyed within reason," You say as you rise to your feet. You step closer to him and he reaches out for you.

"I placed bets that I'd marry you," he confesses as his lips find the corner of your mouth. He presses a light kiss to your skin there then his lips ease down to your neck.

"Yeah?" You sigh.

He hums as he kisses down to the base of your throat, "Yeah."

"Gambling is a sin." You laugh and he catches you lips with his own.

"I'm not always traditional," he sighs.

He traps you against the counter and the warmth of his body soothes you, "I won't do anything to you that you don't want me to do," he sighs as he kisses you.

"Do your worst, church boy," You whisper.

Doyoung slides his hands up your dress and cups your pussy. He moans, "Did I do that to you?" he purrs.

"Yeah... you always do," You hum.

He quirks up an eyebrow, "This is a regular occurrence for you?" he laughs against your lips.

"Uh huh... And sometimes when it gets to be too much, I touch myself."

"Y/n! No!"

You laugh, "Oh, yes!"

Doyoung tuts and dips his tongue into your mouth, "Such a dirty... dirty girl." He slips his hand into your panties and his fingers find your clit. For the first time ever, he curses,

"Fuck, you're soaked, baby,"

It sounds so hot and you whimper as he strokes your clit slowly.

"Doyoung!" You shrill.

"For what it's worth... I'm no better. You just do something to me and I... I can't control it."

He takes his free hand to bring one of your arms up to his shoulder and then the other, "Hold onto me," he says and his voice is low and steady.

You circle your arms around his neck and kiss him hungrily. His fingers massage you slowly, "Does this feel good?" he asks you.

"F-faster... please?" You plead softly. He laughs and easily obliges.

"Spread your legs a little more for me, sweetheart," he tells you softly; you quickly do as your told and he pulls back to smile at you,

"Good girl."

You moan a little bit louder and he pulls his hand out of your panties. His fingers find his way to his mouth and he sucks them clean, "Are you comfortable with coming with me to my bedroom? I can have you here next time."

"Next time?" You gawk.

"There will be a next time. You have stars in your eyes, Y/n."

He takes your hands and presses your knuckles to his lips, "Am I wrong?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Then let's go," he says and leads you out of the kitchen. Your head spins with excitement as he brings you along gently.

His bedroom is a cozy and comfortably cluttered dream. On the seat of his bow window, sits his Bible; it's opened to the book of Matthew. You try to see what chapter he was reading from but he guides you to his bed.

"Matthew, chapter five... verse twenty-eight," he says softly as his fingers begin to slowly unbutton your dress, "'But I say to you that everyone whose eyes are turned on a woman with desire has had connection with her in his heart'... I've battled with this far longer than I'd ever be proud to admit."

You smile up at him, "You're battling a sex demon?"

He laughs and covers his face with his hands, "Everyone has something that they struggle with! I mean, we're humans!" he laughs. He drops his arms down and smirks at you.

"That is true," You sigh.

Doyoung eases his shirt over his head and tosses it beside you on the bed.

It's your turn to freeze. As his hands find their way back to your dress, your eyes roam over his toned skin. He chuckles as he pushes the dress off of your shoulders,

"What demon do you fight, Y/n?"

"I have no demons... I'm a perfect vessel," You chuckle breathlessly. Doyoung pulls you to stand up and lets the dress pool at your feet, "I don't believe that for a second."

You step out of the dress and he picks it up. You watch him fold it gingerly before bringing it over to his honey colored easy chair and placing it down. He turns back to you. He's ambivalent and it's written all over his face.

"We can... put our clothes back on, Doyoung. We don't have to do this. We can just get dressed and act like this never happened," You tell him reassuringly.

He comes back over to you and pulls you into his arms, "You know neither of us wanna do that."

You nod in agreement and he kisses you. It's different. It's rough.

He eases you down onto the bed and as you scoot up to the middle, he hovers over you, "Tell me something... something wicked. Tell me something that will make me feel better about the things I'm going to do you."

Your body is somehow even hotter. He kisses your lips then licks a warm stripe across your neck before sucking on the tender flesh.

"I think about you all the time... I imagine you... bending me over in the church basement and fucking me until I can't stand," You whimper.

Doyoung groans and presses his hardness against you, "That's your fantasy? Being fucked in a church basement? Such a dirty girl... what else do you think about?" Doyoung kisses his way down to your chest before pulling you up. He reaches around behind you and unclasps your bra.

"I think about you overpowering me and- using me until you're satisfied... I just wanna be ravished by you," You whine as you both grind against each other.

He's invading all of your senses and neither of you has completely undressed yet.

"How are you even real?" he groans as he fumbles with his pants. He clumsily gets them off and kicks them off of the bed. Your bra is next to go then his briefs and then finally, your panties.

Doyoung kisses you with fervency. He pulls back and pins your arms over your head, "You wanna be ravished, huh?" he chuckles and dips down to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Uh huh," You sigh.

Doyoung slides down and nestles himself between your thighs. He peppers your skin with soft kisses. His mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks it softly. You cry out and buck your hips against his mouth.

He laps at you and teases you with his tongue.

"Doyoung... yes. Please... please," You gasp.

He continues his attack on you and you reach down to card your fingers through his hair and grind your hips desperately.

"Not enough, is it?" he asks as he raises his head to look at you.

"I... no... that's not it... I just want you. Come back up here... please," You whimper.

Doyoung laughs, "Do you miss me or something?"

"I do," You reply.

Doyoung comes up and presses a sloppy kiss to your lips.

You reach between your bodies and stroke him. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the sheets.

"Want you in my mouth," You whimper and Doyoung flips you both over. He looks up you before propping himself up on his elbows,

"Have at it."

You nestle between his legs and grip his cock with both hands, "You're bigger than I expected," You say then lick from the base up to the tip.

Doyoung's tongue darts out to wet his lips, "Fuck," he sighs.

"Am I teasing you?" You ask him innocently.

"Come on... do something, baby," he sighs.

You smirk and drag your tongue back and forth over his leaking tip; collecting precum as you do, "Make me do something," You say softly.

Doyoung takes a fistful of your hair, "Don't be such a tease," he says and gently forces your head down. You moan and take him all the way into your mouth.

He slowly bucks his hips as the head of his cock repeatedly taps the back of your throat, "That's a good girl," he moans, "So fucking good."

You let him use your throat as you feel your own wetness slicking up your inner thighs.

Doyoung pulls you back up and kisses you, "Not like this... I need to be inside you," he says as he gets you back underneath him.

He teases your slit with the head of his cock and you whine desperately, "Ask me for it nicely."

"Please... give it to me," You whimper.

"You need me to fuck you?" he asks you roughly; his voice is coarse and heavy with desire.

You nod and that's all it takes for him to guide himself into you.

"Fuck!" You both cry in unison. You look at each other and laugh.

Doyoung dips down to press his forehead to yours, "You're so much better than I could ever have imagined... so fucking tight for me. We were made for each other. Don't you agree?" He says and his hips collide with yours over and over and over again.

"Y- yeah... I... I love this. Please don't stop, Doie... please," You plead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, "I want you to fuck me forever."

"Forever?" he sighs and slows his pace, "You could take this forever, baby?"

You kiss him, "Uh huh," You pant.

Doyoung groans, "I'm... fuck, baby... I'm close."

You reach down to bring yourself closer to your own release.

He pushes your hand away and replaces it with his own, "No... that's what I'm here for... let me," he says as his fingers draw fervent circles into your clit.

"Doie! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck..." You moan as you both release together.

"That's it, baby. You sound so pretty when you cum for me. That's my girl," he praises you as his own orgasm rattles his body.

You cling to Doyoung and he collapses on top of you. You both tremble as you regain clarity. Once his breathing is under control, he rears up to press a chaste kiss to your temple then rolls off of you.

You turn to face each other and the air is still thick; he smiles, "I want you to know something..." he says as his eyes roam your face, "I don't want you because I just need a release... I want you because you're the only woman I've ever thought about doing this with... You're the only woman that's ever made me forget that God even matters."

You blush and bring your hand over to stroke his cheek, "I don't even think I could say anything to top how special that is but I can try," You say with a chuckle.

Doyoung smiles.

"I... I've kissed boys... maybe too many but... I waited for you. I didn't want anyone else," You tell him.

His face beams, "We waited for each other and didn't even realize it," he laughs.

Come Sunday morning, Siwon is privy to the way you and Doyoung engage each other.

"Sister, can I have a word with you?" he pipes up. Jaemin's eyes perk up and he's obviously ready to go to battle. You shake your head and smile at him before turning your attention to Siwon.

"Yes, Pastor?" You say.

"You've been very close with my brother. What exactly are your intentions?" he asks you suspiciously.

Doyoung is at your side before you even have time to react, "Her intentions are well, hyung. Better than yours were," he says coolly.

Siwon scoffs, "What?"

"Taeyeon hasn't been here in... three months now? She's not that sick. She left you and everyone knows she did," Doyoung says.

"Literally everyone knows," Renjun says in passing.

"I'm just worried about the choices you're making. You seem different," Siwon presses.

Doyoung shrugs, "My choices are fine. If I ever go astray, I'll do the work to get back on track. I think you should worry about your own affairs."

Siwon nods, "Well, if that's how you want it then that's how it'll be."

He excuses himself and Doyoung turns to you, "You're not his sin to overcome," he laughs.

That afternoon, while the sun hangs low in the sky, Doyoung tends to his garden, and you watch him as you remain on standby, ready to help him with his needs.

"Being married is gonna be a lot of fun... I like having you here to help me with the gardening," he sighs with a soft smile.

"Daddy's little helper," You mumble.

He straightens up and his eyebrows go up, "I- I- whoooo, what? What? Y/n, behave!" he gushes as he gently nudges you with his arm.

"You've never had that thought?" You ask him teasingly.

He nods, "I have but I'm busy right now and you have to behave yourself because this was supposed to be done three days ago and I don't want my garden to die so... sit there, be quiet, and don't touch me until I'm done."

"Okay, Daddy," You say sweetly.

Doyoung stands up and pulls off his gloves off, "On your feet. Come on," he says as he places his gloves in his supply box.

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen. He washes his hands and turns to you.

He's trying so hard to be firm with you but a smile shines through on his face, "You gotta... don't smile at me- you-" he laughs and pulls you into his arms, "You gotta behave yourself. You're failing the wife trial. Get it together!"

You hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll try harder tomorrow," You chuckle.

Before you know it, Doyoung is turning you around and pressing you down against the counter, "Why can't you behave yourself right now?" he asks you softly, his fingers pushing your shorts and panties down.

"Don't wanna," You sigh as his hand caresses your bare ass.

He lands a mild slap down and you gasp.

He laughs low and thick, "You like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes!" You whimper and wiggle your ass in an attempt to touch some part of his body.

"Well, you're not really supposed but... I guess that's okay for right now... I'll just have to find some other way to punish you," he says and slaps your ass again, this time a little bit harder. You moan and he slaps you once more.

"Daddy!" You whine.

Doyoung slides his hand down to your cunt and kicks your legs apart, "You're always so wet for me... no matter what's going on, I know that if I just... slide my hand between those beautiful thighs, I'm gonna get my fingers soaked."

"I always want you, Daddy... always," You sigh as he slides his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He fucks you with his fingers and leans down to lick the shell of your ear, "Such a greedy little whore." he says softly.

You clench around his fingers and writhe. Moans pour from your mouth as he shows no signs of slowing up.

"Oh? You like that?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"You like it when daddy talks to you like this? Huh, slut?"

You nod furiously and clench around his fingers once more.

He tuts, "Can't hear you."

"Yes, Daddy! Yes!" You scream.

"That's my girl."

Doyoung eases his fingers out of you and pulls you up by your hair, "Taste yourself, baby," he says as he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You hum as you suck them. Doyoung drops down to his knees and helps you out of your shorts, "Hold onto the counter,"

You do as you're told and he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder before devouring your pussy. You throw your head back and cry out as he brings you close to your release.

His tongue speeds up and slows down. He gets better each time and you mentally note his progress. Your legs give out as you cum against his tongue.

"Daddy!"

He pulls back and lets you sink down onto the floor in front of him.

He kisses you, "Was that good, princess?" he asks you.

You nod, too enthralled by the throbbing of your pussy to speak. He chuckles and his hand returns to your cunt, "Then you shouldn't mind one more, right?"

Doyoung brings his other hand up to circle around your throat, "One more time, baby... I know you can do it," he purrs as he tightens his grip just enough to make your eyes roll back. He chuckles at the effect he has on you.

You grip his biceps as he massages your clit and you try in vain to squeeze your thighs shut but he doesn't slow up and you're coming undone again.

Your thighs tremble violently and he just doesn't stop.

"You have the power to stop me, Y/n... you know I'd never do anything you don't want me to do so... go ahead... stop me," he whispers against your mouth.

You don't stop him. You can't. He feels too good and he brings a level of greed to your body.

Tears prick your eyes and a third orgasm rips through your body. You whine weakly and finally, his hand ceases.

"How's my girl?" he asks softly as he moves his hand from your throat to your cheek.

You can't speak. You collapse against him and he rubs your back, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head and cling to him a little tighter. Your body slowly relaxes and he rocks you slowly.

When you finally come down, you give him a chaste kiss and he smiles.

Doyoung pulls back to look you over, "I stopped repenting y'know... for what we do," he says softly.

"Why?" You ask him. Your voice is still hoarse and he can't help but laugh.

"How can I when I'm not sorry?"

_____

yo if you got to the end of this, thank you!!

1K notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 5 days

Text

‘Cause After Midnight…

A/N: this idea came to be randomly yesterday morning and thus the brain rot began! Idk about y’all, but I would do ANYTHING for slumber party!Dieter 🤭 big thank you to @chronically-ghosted for sharing the brain rot cell with me this week! 🫡

~word count: 8.5k~ yeaaaah idk what happened!

Summary: a slumber party with your bestie Dieter Bravo, after midnight! What could possibly happen between the two of you?

Pairing | slumber party!dieter x best friend female!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, a little sprinkle of angst, DUBIOUS CONSENT, mentions of alcohol and ouid smoking, infidelity (not by dieter) toxic relationship (Dieter’s ex) denial of feelings, secret pining, best friends to lovers?, pussy pronouns, domestic intimacy, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a shower head (iykyk), sexual tension, language, dirty talk, unprotected piv, aftercare, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is bug, +18 minors dni!

Being Dieter Bravo’s best friend since…well, forever, came with a long list of perks. Your favorite perk of all, you may ask? Getting to spend time with your best friend. Whether that was at his home, lounging side by side next to his inground pool, stumbling out of a DTLA nightclub, clammy hands entwined together as you head to the nearest street food cart ASAP (Dieter demands steak tacos when he’s wasted) or when you were his glittering gem on the red carpet, dodging the incessant questions from the red carpet wasps—I mean, interviewers asking you and Dieter if you were dating.

It was like clockwork, you and Dieter would look at one another, laugh and shake your heads in sync, “us, dating? No, you have it all wrong! We’re simply just two besties that do everything together, don’t get it twisted!” (So what if you and Dieter would sometimes get equally wasted in the club and drunkenly makeout…and sometimes, while making out, he would grope your ass beneath your dress—you were just friends! Best friends kiss like all the time…right?)

Of course, Hollywood didn’t buy it despite yours and Dieter’s repetitive denial, and the fact that Dieter was currently smitten with his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. The tabloids spewed their cheap gossip, but your friendship with Dieter never soured.

You frequently slept over on the weekends he was home. It was your shared routine from Friday-Sunday (sometimes even Mondays), you and Dieter would get higher than two kites, cross off a few movies on your watch lists, paint together, and order takeout for every meal. Truthfully, it was fucking bliss.

This weekend, in particular, Dieter decided he wanted to have a whole ass slumber party. (Not nearly as extravagant as the princess diaries slumber party, or the Barbie movie) but Dieter knew how to throw a killer intimate slumber party. He invited all of his close, niche friends including you. He already had a whole array of different foods to munch on throughout the night so that no one would go hungry.

As always, Dieter was nearly glued to your side and if it were anyone else, or any other man for that matter, you would be annoyed, but when it came to Dieter, you shared your small bubble of space happily with him.

Everything was going swimmingly, until Dieter’s ex showed up uninvited. Dieter was in the whirlpool, wearing the tiniest swim trunks known to man. He had a beer in one hand while his other arm was resting along the outside of the hot tub. He was mid conversation, laughing about something one of his friends said before his eyes met yours when you appeared from the kitchen, a nervous look plastered on your face as you approached the hot tub.

“Hey, Dee?..” you crouched down along the edge of the hot tub.

“Yeah, bug?” He took a sip of his beer, brow cocking in curiosity. “What’s up? Why do ya look so worried?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Dee. Just uh—well, your ex just sorta showed up uninvited. She’s in the kitchen—”

“What the fuck do you mean she just sorta showed up?! What the fuck.” He groaned, dragging his wet hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “I reckon she just invited herself in, too?”

Your nod confirmed his suspicions. “Unfortunately she did. I told her she wasn’t welcome, but she essentially told me to fuck off.” You stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she’s never exactly been the type to respect boundaries.” He sighed and handed you his beer so that he could pull himself out of the hot tub. The swim trunks he was wearing quite literally left little to the imagination, and you swore that you caught a glimpse of his infamous package when he bent down and grabbed his towel to quickly dry off.

His hand gently brushed yours as he reached for his beer. “I’ll deal with her. Not gonna let it spoil my night.” He gruffed out and draped the towel around his shoulders. “Be back in a jiffy, bug.” He winked and headed towards the sliding doors leading to the kitchen.

When he didn’t return to the backyard in over 20 minutes, that’s when you made the executive decision to see if he was okay. When you neared the front door, you could hear the distinct tone of Dieter’s voice through the thin glass and you caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You can’t just fucking show up here uninvited! You’re not only trespassing, but you’re crossing a boundary! This is exactly why we broke up in the first place because you’re just so fucking clingy!” He yelled.

“Oh, I’M THE CLINGY ONE?!” She laughed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger directly into his bare chest. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you spent more time with your best friend than with your girlfriend?! Don’t you think thats a bit fucking weird, Dieter?!”

“Oh, for fucks sakes! Here we go again! Don’t you dare go bring her into this when she’s done nothing wrong! So sorry that you felt like the attention I was giving you was inadequate! Guess that gave you just the right amount of ammo to cheat on me with MY fucking pilates instructor?! Dude, I can’t even look the guy in the face anymore without wanting to rip his dick off, balls and all!”

“YES, because you left me with no other choice, Dieter! He gave me more attention than you ever have!”

“Right, sure! So instead of oh—I don’t know, acting like a fucking normal person, you let your jealousy take front and center and cheat on me?! Why the fuck couldn’t you just be like hey, Dieter! I’m feeling under-appreciated in our relationship and I’d like to talk about it in a healthy, productive way because I love and respect you as a person! I would have never fucking cheated on you, don’t you get that?!”

“Okay—you’re right! I’m sorry that I wasn’t mature, and I’m sorry I cheated on you, Dieter. I’m so sorry! Can we please just—”

He laughed, throwing his head back with his hands carding through his damp curls in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me! You just expect me to what—take you back after all of that?! Fuck you. I may be a stupid fucking actor, but I’m not that stupid. Please, can you just—leave? I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to.”

“Dieter, come on! Baby, please. Let’s just talk—”

“I’m not your baby.” He muttered and turned on his heel and walked back towards the front door. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands and scream, but he was determined to not let her ruin his night. So, when he opened the door, and found you on the other side, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Well, that was a crapshoot. Did ya hear any of it, bug?” He closed the door softly and made sure to lock it for good measure.

“You okay, Dee? I heard the last bit of it…I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“S’okay. It’s done now and I’m gonna try and not let it ruin the rest of the night. Thank you for checking in on me, bug. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Dee. Everyone is still in the backyard. Wanna join them? Otherwise I was thinking maybe you and I can get high?”

He grinned at your suggestion, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb, “say less.”

That’s how you found yourself in Dieter’s bedroom, sitting on the floor with his rolling tray in your lap while he was changing out of his too-tight swim trunks and into a pair of boxers that were…equally as tight. You loved the way that his little bit of tummy pudge hung over the side of the boxer's waistband. What you wouldn’t give to worship that tummy while he shoves his—You kept your eyes focused on plucking a few bud clusters and placing them in the grinder. His phone was charging next to yours on the nightstand. You had Spotify open on shuffle playing yours and Dieter’s favorite playlist. The song that was currently playing was After Midnight by Chappell Roan.

He plopped down beside you, gently grabbing the tray and placed it in his lap so that he could roll the actual joint. He used the front of his bed as a backrest as he opened up the grinder and carefully distributed the ground up herb into one of the papers.

“I seriously don’t know how your dick can breathe in those tight fucking shorts, Dee.” you said with a playful edge to your tone as you let your head rest in the crook of his neck. He leaned into you too, naturally.

“They are not that tight!” He scoffed and looked over at you with a playful grin on his lips. “My dick can breathe in these perfectly fine, bug.” he retorted.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.”

Comfortable silence washed over the two of you while he finished rolling up the joint, looking over at you expectantly as he sparked the end of it, inhaling with his cheeks slightly hollowed, “should we have a full slumber party moment and paint our nails and do each other's makeup?” He asked softly, blowing the smoke upwards towards the ceiling and held the joint out to you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Shut up. I can’t believe you just brought that up because I was thinking the same exact thing!” You looked over at him In disbelief, reaching for the joint as your fingers briefly brushed against one another during the exchange. “I must have manifested this or something because I made sure to bring my nail polish this time!”

“Just start calling me Dieter the all knowing!” He chuckled, feeling the inhaled drug slowly send him into a relaxed state. He let his head comfortably rest against the back of the bed. “and I have my makeup that we can use! Think you can show me how to perfect the winged liner look? I’m shit at doing it on myself.” He huffed.

“I am not gonna start calling you Dieter that all knowing! There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant you all that power!” You nudged his shoulder gently with your own before you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling it. “Of course I can help you with your eyeliner, Dee! Only if you let me pick out your nail color this time.”

“Okay, deal!” He was quick to respond with zero hesitation in his chipper tone.

So, after you each took a few more drags from the joint and your minds began to go hazy, Dieter lazily got up and walked into the en-suite to grab his bag of makeup from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, you had grabbed your overnight bag and already had all of your nail products laid out.

“Damn, did ya bring your entire collection from home with ya?” He teased as he plopped down next to you. His movements were uncoordinated due to the drug coursing through his veins. He nearly fell into your lap, giggling and quietly apologizing as he sat back up. This was a normal occurrence for you and Dieter. Whenever the two of you would get high together, (which was frequent), you both became naturally affectionate and extremely touchy with one another. It was second nature, and something that neither you or Dieter ever thought about as being ‘weird’ and not the norm for most platonic friendships.

“Go big or go home, right Dee?” You had already picked out a pretty sparkly blue polish for his nails and set it off to the side.

“Absolutely, bug. Hey, can you do my makeup first, please?” He had his hands clasped in his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs as if he was a child waiting to be reprimanded by his parents.

“Of course I can.” You said softly, and grabbed the makeup bag from his lap. “Hey, are you okay?…”

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m fucking pissed off about what happened down there with my ex.”

You nodded in understanding and stood up to grab one of his many pillows so that he would have something comfortable to lay against while you would do his makeup. “I gathered that.”

“That’s because you’re always reading the room, bug.” He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from you so that he could place it under his back. Once he was situated, he patted his thighs, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. (Doesn’t everyone straddle their best friend and do their makeup?)

“Am I?” You mused and wasted no time to straddle his hips, making yourself comfortable above him. He was looking up at you with that sparkle in his irises that only appeared around you. It was as if you were the reason why the sun shined, and the stars twinkled in the sky. You were too busy going through his bag of makeup to catch the look, and when your eyes did land upon his face, he looked like he was going through constricting emotions.

“Yeah, you’re really good at doing that, y’know?” He sighed, feeling his shoulders deflate and sink against the pillow.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Dee?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hands gently rest around your hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin visible under your shorts in a soothing figure eight motion. “I mean, who the fuck just shows up to someone’s slumber party uninvited?”

“Well, she’s never really respected your boundaries, has she? Remember when you forgot to leave your phone in your dressing room at the Oscars, and when you were reading out the nominees and she called you, despite knowing that you were at the Oscars?” You grabbed his little bottle of toner and a couple cotton rounds, softly telling him to close his eyes.

He closed his eyes, flinching slightly when the cool mist of the toner kissed his skin. He relaxed further into the pillows when you gently patted the toner into his skin with the cotton round. “Yeah, that was a fucking disaster! I just remember going all red in the face and fearing that my career with the rest of the Hollywood assholes was over at that point.”

“I’m pretty sure she made that move out of spite, Dee. Y’know, because you didn’t ask her to be your plus one?”

He peeked one eye open to look up at you, “that’s because you’ve attended every single red carpet event with me, bug. It’s…tradition.” (Yeah, sure it is, Dieter. Just tradition.)

“I’m not justifying her behavior by any means, but I can understand why she was upset that you invited your best friend over your girlfriend to the Oscars.” You set the bottle of toner down and grabbed his usual moisturizer and squirted a few pumps onto your fingers and rubbed it into his skin.

“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty fucked up huh? But I don’t think I deserved to be cheated on.” His lips curved into a downwards pout, brows furrowed intently.

“Oh, of course not, hun. Cheating is never justifiable.” You reassured him, reaching into the makeup bag and pulled out his primer, foundation and concealer. “Do you wanna do a full look or something on the more no makeup/makeup side?”

“So then why did she try to justify her reason for cheating on me? Not only that, she tried to sweet talk her way back in towards the end of the conversation. Oh, Dieter, I’m so sorry!” He scoffed, “she even pulled the baby card on me! I know I’m not the most emotionally intelligent individual 99% of the time, and I’ve struggled my whole life taking much of anything serious, but I still have a fucking heart despite what the tabloids gossip about.” He paused mid-venting, remembering what you had asked him, “surprise me, bug.”

“She pulled the baby card on you? What a fucking cunt move, honestly.” you shook your head. “Dieter, you have one of the biggest hearts in all of Hollywood, hun. You just don’t share it with everyone and that’s okay. Those tabloids are a load of crap. I told you before that you have to stop feeding into their agenda. It’s not worth it, Dieter.”

“Exactly! It was a cunt move. And if I didn’t realize my worth sooner, I probably would have fallen right back into a relationship with her again! You know what I’m starting to believe? Maybe…I just have to accept the fact that no one is ever gonna love me.”

You let out a sigh, reaching back into the makeup bag and pulled out one of his glitter shadows to apply on his eyelids. He let out a content hum when your fingers began to gently card through his damp curls while your other fingers began to gently pat the shimmery shadow onto his closed eyelids. “Dieter, don’t you fucking start that shit and claiming that no one is ever going to love you.”

“Well, it’s true! I can’t fucking hold a healthy relationship down to save my life! I’m the laughing stock of Hollywood, days away from fucking relapsing, and no one is gonna give a shit!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” You fought the urge to laugh, not at him, of course, but at the situation at hand. “I love you, idiot. You are not the laughing stock of Hollywood, and you will not fucking relapse under my watch, Dieter.”

“Bug, I know you love me, and I love you too! But…that’s different. What I’m talking about is real, true love—ow!” He whimpered when you had accidentally poked his eye with your nail.

You weren’t even paying attention when he started rambling about true love and that the way he loved you was completely different…it stung and sent your heart straight through a shredder, and he had no idea!

“Shit, Dee! I’m so sorry—are you okay? My finger slipped.” Your palm came to rest around his scruffy jawline, leaning in close to make sure that you hadn’t accidentally poked his eye out with your fingernail. Your warm breath gently fanned his face as he blinked a few times to surpass the dull sting he felt on his cornea.

“I’m okay, bug. But damn, girl! Are you trying to poke my eye out or something?” He joked, trying to relieve the palpable tension growing between the two of you.

You were quick to change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed that you allowed his words to affect you that much. You reached for the joint that was resting along the rolling tray and picked it up between your two fingers along with the lighter. “I’m going to take a couple more hits…you want any?” You asked while sparking the joint up, taking a deeper inhale this time to try and soothe your already scrambled brain.

He nodded, reaching his hand up to pluck the joint from between your lips after you were finished and placed it between his own and took a similarly deep drag. He looked so fucking pretty, laying there, joint hanging low between his lips, shimmering eyeshadow making his rich brown eyes stand out even more.

“Y’know…” he started, “if ya take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He mused, taking another long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. When you didn’t immediately laugh at his weak attempt to ease the tension further, he frowned. “Hey, you okay? You’re never this quiet, bug. Even when you’re high.”

“I’m fine, Dieter.” You sighed, and went to slide off his lap, forgetting about doing his eyeliner when his hand resting around your hip tightened and you freezed under his touch.

“Hey, please don’t lie to me. Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” He was always so genuine in his apologies to you. He could claim to not know how to read the room, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Dee, I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I was just having a moment.”

“Well…stop that! It’s not allowed when we’re having a sleepover.” He really just couldn’t stand to see you upset. It tore him up inside and made him feel like he was always the root cause for your mood change.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, giving his cheek a light pat while your other hand ruffled through his hair. “Do you still want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Yes please.” He grinned. “Just promise to not poke my eye out again?”

“I promise, Dee.”

While you carefully began to apply the eyeliner to his eyelids with careful precision, he continued to ramble on underneath you, careful to not move too much because he really didn’t want to accidentally get poked in the eye. Once you were finished, you expected him to immediately want to check how he looked in the mirror, but instead, he switched positions with you, straddling your hips now so that he could do your makeup.

You didn’t protest, of course. You’d take any excuse to admire his handsome features up close while he was zoned in on his work, his muse being you. Whenever he was painting, his focus was intense and it was as if he had tuned out everything else around him. He acted all the same while he was gently applying a shimmer shadow to your eyelids.

The intimacy simmering between the two of you was becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel him through his too-tight boxers, the weight of his cock pressing right against your clothed center. Despite knowing Dieter for as long as you have, you never had seen his cock, only just the outline of it. However, you heard the stories from his past partners, flings, and even some colleagues. They were all shocked to hear that you yourself had not seen Dieter Bravo’s package.

The walls in his spacious bedroom felt like they were closing in on you from how flustered you were feeling. Surely there was sweat beginning to bead and perspire along the column of your throat and behind your neck. Perhaps there was even an evident sign of your arousal between your thighs. You hoped to god that he hadn’t caught on. But when his hips shifted forward, his tongue poking out between his lips while he carefully applied a swipe of eyeliner across your right eyelid, it was too much.

“Hey—Dee? I’m not feeling too hot. Think the weed is messing with me. I—I think I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” You stuttered out, trying to focus on the words coming out of your mouth and not the images of his thick cock—

He frowned, looking deflated when you said that you wanted to go to bed. “Oh—okay, bug. I understand. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll get you some food and water, okay? Maybe you’re just having a bad trip?” He was genuinely concerned, feeling slightly nervous that his trusted dealer had laced his stash with something, but he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole just yet.

“No—I just…I want to shower and go to bed, Dieter. I’ll be fine. It probably is just a bad trip.” You reassured him and subtly tried to create any form of distance between the two of you to relieve the tension you were feeling.

The weed is only enhancing what I’m feeling right now. If he could see the thoughts going through my head right now—

“If you are having a bad trip, then I should stay with you, bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you—”

“Dieter.” You were on the edge of snapping and saying something you would inevitably regret, “I don’t want you to stay with me, okay? I just want to fucking shower and go to bed.”

Ouch.

He visibly recoiled, feeling like you had just stabbed him right in the gut and twisted the knife for good measure. Maybe I am the clingy one…

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He wanted to snap right back at you, but he didn’t have the heart in him to do so.

“Thank you.” You breathed out, and when he didn’t immediately uncage your thighs from under his hips, you took matters into your own hands and placed your palm flat against his chest, gently pushing him off of you so you could quickly stand up.

He felt his heart twist even further when you disappeared into the en-suite, slamming the door behind you. He wasn’t sure if it was done maliciously or on accident, it still fucking hurt.

Seconds later he hears the sink turn on and the sound of water splashing against your face. It felt wrong to leave you in this state, so even after he heard the shower turn on while he was cleaning up the strewn about makeup on the floor, he sat down against the door, his back leaning against it as he waited. For what? He really didn’t know the answer to that.

You knew that Dieter was concerned about your well being, and if he could have it his own way, he would be in the bathroom with you right now, sitting with his back facing you so that you would feel comfortable to shower. You also were aware that he was sitting against the bathroom door and your heart lurched at the thought. You felt the guilt swim and swirl around you. Snapping at your best friend was not on your bingo card for the night, but maybe this was a sign that you and Dieter needed to set some serious boundaries between one another. Maybe you were beginning to realize that the two of you were…too close.

“Can you just…let me know you’re okay in there?” You heard him ask through the door as the scalding hot water streamed down over your bare body.

“Dieter, I’m fine.” Your voice was muffled under the stream.

“Yeah, sure you are, but I’d be a terrible fucking friend if I just left you to deal with this bad trip on your own, bug.”

God dammit, Dieter. Why can’t you just be an asshole like a normal person?! Is what you really wanted to say.

“Okay…” you trailed off, “I’m going to be in here for a while.”

“That’s okay. You can use up all of my hot water. I don’t care.” He reassured you.

When you didn’t immediately respond he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the door, closing his eyes. He remembered that your phone was still playing music from where it sat on his nightstand next to his own, and the familiar tune of Pink Pony Club started playing. It was yours and Dieter’s favorite song off of Chappell’s album.

“I know you wanted me to stay, but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA. And I heard that there's a special place, where boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”

Dieter Bravo could not fucking sing, but everytime that he did for you, it was the most endearing gesture ever.

“You fucking asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee. Oh, Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me. Won't make my mama proud, It's gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream…”

“God, what have you done! You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club! Oh mama, I'm just having fun! On the stage in my heels, it’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club!” You and Dieter sung the chorus in unison, completely out of tune, but neither of you could give a fuck about that.

You could practically picture his dopey, weed-stained grin plastered on his handsome, scruffy face behind the door when you sang the chorus together. The mental image sent your heart surging out of your chest, and your pussy pulsing in tandem.

Fuck me.

You truly had just planned to take a hot, relaxing, mind clearing shower and then go straight to bed, but you were feeling bothered by the weed, and your blatantly obvious attraction towards your best friend. Not to mention, the little rasp in Dieter’s voice was not helping you out in this predicament, either. That’s when you noticed his attached shower head and the lightbulb went off in your weed-induced brain.

You reached for the attached shower head, gently removing it from where it was mounted against the shower wall. Before turning it on, however, you quickly got familiar with the numerous spray settings and chose the medium spray before slowly dragging the shower head between your legs and—oh, fucck.

The pressure was just right and was directly spraying a stream of water onto your exposed clit. You held back a moan, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down as you slowly sank to your ass along the shower wall, your thighs spread fully, eyes rolling back into your skull from the intense feeling. That’s when a moan slipped past and Dieter initially thought he was just hearing things, but then he heard it again…and his cock twitched to life beneath the tight confinements.

“There’s no way. I’m just high as shit right now and hearing things. Yeah, that’s the logical explanation!” He muttered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. But then he heard you distinctively moan, and his face suddenly felt hot to the touch. He pressed his ear against the door, raising his fist and gently knocked on the wood, “you uh—you okay in there?”

You were so close to hitting that big ‘o’ that you didn’t even hear Dieter’s low rasp through the door.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You whimpered. “So fucking close, just a little more. Just a little more. C’mon, baby.”

Now that he could hear you more clearly, he knew exactly what was producing those little desperate sounds to slip past your pretty lips: his fucking shower head.

“Excuse me?? Are you getting yourself off with MY shower head, without me in there?!” It was a thought that he had meant to keep in his head, but now that it was out there, there was truly no going back.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, immediately dropping the shower head from your loose grasp and it clattered to the shower floor just as the bathroom door burst open.

“Dieter—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screeched, hair drenched, thighs spread and trembling.

He shut the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he approached, looking you right in the eyes, “more importantly, what are you doing?” He placed his hands on his hips. “Your little moans and whimpers made me rock fucking hard!” He gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the tight material. “Had I known it was gonna be that kind of sleepover, I would have joined you a heck of a lot sooner!”

Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening, is it?!

“Dieter, you can’t just fucking come in here when I’m masturbating! Dude—what the fuck!”

“Oh, heavens! Are we going back to the 1800’s or something? Just call it for what it is! You playing with your pussy, and using my shower head to get yourself off! By all means, please continue, but next time? I want a personal invite!”

You were appalled…and a little turned on? Okay, a lot turned on! In fact, your pussy was pulsing between your thighs, the edge of your interrupted orgasm was still simmering, waiting to fully bloom. To make matters worse, Dieter had crouched down outside of the shower, his brows furrowed when he noticed the setting you had set the shower head to. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head as he reached into the shower and picked up the shower head from where it had been dropped between your spread thighs.

“Dieter, what are you—”

“Hush and listen to the teacher, okay? For starters, you’re using it all wrong. You gotta build yourself up first, and then go full blast. Otherwise you’re just gonna overstimulate your poor little clit, and that just takes away from the experience.” He said in the most casual fashion, as if this wasn’t crossing a million different invisible boundaries all at once.

“Dieter, I don’t need your assistance on getting myself off, okay? Please just—”

“Bug, don’t make this weird, okay? We’re friends, and there’s nothing in the friends handbook that says that we can’t help one another get off! It’s totally not forbidden.” He retorted.

“I think you just made the whole friends handbook thing up. It totally doesn’t exist and we absolutely should not be doing this, Dieter! It’s wrong for a multitude of reasons!”

“The friends handbook totally exists! I’ll get you a copy, okay? I’m not going to touch you, unless you want me to. I’m just gonna use the shower head to show you the right way to get yourself off with it, and afterwards you will be thanking me!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this. I cannot fucking—”

“Best start believing it, baby! Now, spread your thighs for me a little more, okay?”

“Okay, I’m giving you my full consent, but if I start feeling weird, we’re stopping this whole thing, okay?” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spread your thighs further so he had a better view.

“Bug, if at any point you feel weird, uncomfortable, or want to stop, just tell me, okay? I’m not gonna pressure you to continue doing this if you don’t want to. I’m leaving the ball completely in your court, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you change your mind, okay? I promise.” His words were sincere, and it was hard to look away when he was staring at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He leaned forward then, briefly getting caught under the stream when his lips brushed across your forehead, leaving you both feeling slightly stunned. He softly asked you if it was okay if he did touch you, to which you obliged, lower lip taken between your teeth when his hand that wasn’t holding the shower head slowly dipped between your thighs and his fingers spread your slick folds apart so he would have better access to your clit.

“I always knew that your pussy would be pretty, baby, but goddamn—she really is so fucking pretty.” He took a sharp inhale of breath, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers.

“Dieter Bravo, you’re going to be the death of me.” You breathed out, heat rising to your cheeks from the way he was gazing at the spot between your thighs, eyes glazed over the same way a dog looks at a delicious bone, or a plate of juicy, rare, steak.

“You’re already the death of me, bug.” He whispered, unable to help himself when his thumb gently brushed across your clit. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand but between you prettily spread out beneath him, and the weed still flowing through his system, he was fucked.

He changed the setting on the shower head without even having to look down at it. He was too focused on your face, particularly your eyes and how you both seemed to be drinking one another in, an invisible string tied between the two of you, reeling him in closer, and closer. You observe his face, and the way his eyeliner has now started to run and bleed under his eyes and down his cheeks from the water and steam. Your pussy clenches from the sight just as his thumb lightly presses against your clit, making slow, languid, figure eight motions.

He thinks he wants to kiss you—no, scratch that. He wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his eyes flicker from your face and down to your lips, and then back up again.

“Dieter…” you whisper, bringing your hand up to gently cradle his face in your palm, curling your pointer finger under his chin. “Do you want to kiss me?” Your warm breath fans his face as he slowly nods.

“Yeah, I do.” He rasped, slowly leaning in.

“So kiss me, you fool.”

And so he did, but instead of hesitating, and holding back, he dove right in, noses pressing into one another as he licked greedily into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours while his hand holding the shower head angled it right against your exposed pussy and between his fingers where he was keeping you spread open.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered into the kiss, keeping your one hand anchored around his jaw while the other came to rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangled through his drenched locks, tugging on them gently.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Told ya so.” He snickered into your lips, kissing you deeper. “Lower water pressure builds you up slower, drawing your orgasm out to last longer, and it’ll feel 10x more intense.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled into his lips, scooting your hips closer to the stream of water, and to him.

“Greedy little pussy, huh? Can’t get enough, can ya?” He teased.

“Dieter…” you warned him, playfully biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out gently before releasing it.

“I know, I know.” He chuckled and reluctantly detached himself from the kiss, pecking your lips once before he sat back on his thighs to give himself any form of relief. “You wanna give yourself a whirl while I go take care of this er—in privacy?”

Your cheeks were puffed out, lips swollen with his kisses as you stared up at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Just get in here with me, Dieter. Right now.”

He blushed, turning bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly turning all bashful as if he wasn’t just talking about your greedy little pussy seconds ago. “Are you…sure? I really don’t mind! I can just go jerk off in my bed like a normal person—”

“Dieter.” Your tone sounded strained, “get in the fucking shower now. Take those ridiculously tight boxers off and get in here.”

Well, you certainly didn’t need to ask Dieter Bravo twice as he scrambled to peel his boxers down over his hips and thighs, tossing the damp fabric outside of the shower. His cock bobbed between his thighs, hard, heavy and the tip was swollen a painful red color. Poor guy.

He climbed over you, situating himself and his cute little tush right next to you with his shoulders gently brushing yours. He spit a glob of saliva into his palm and wrapped his fist around the veiny girth of his cock. “I’ll come fast, I promise. You won’t even have to do anything, okay? Just pretend I’m not here!” His tone was rushed as he squeezed the base of his cock, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you. His eyeliner was completely smudged now and his lips were swollen with your kisses.

All you could do was nod dumbly, your eyes transfixed by his fist wrapped around his cock. It was as if you were seeing a unicorn for the first time! The unicorn being er—Dieter’s cock.

He looked at your face, and then down at his cock, and then back up at your face. “Hello?” He waved with his freehand, “why are you looking at my cock like that, huh? Are you the only person in the whole state of California who hasn’t seen my cock before?” He was in disbelief, his mouth falling open when he realized that you never had seen his cock.

"I totally thought you'd seen his dick. Practically everyone else has." You remember his ex cruelly teasing you about it one day.

You shook your head, eyes glazed over as you watched his fist slowly twist and pump around his length. “Nope. First time, and it’s like I’m looking at a unicorn!” You exclaimed playfully.

Dieter snorted at your enthusiasm, feeling his heart lurch from his chest, “well, it is sorta like seeing a unicorn for the first time…I suppose?” He chuckled, squeezing the base of his cock for some form of relief. He felt like now was the best time to address the obvious elephant in the room, silly Dieter. “So uh—well, this doesn’t mean anything, right? Because we’re just friends and good friends masturbate together. It's cool, this is super casual!”

Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, spreading your thighs further so you could continue your ministrations with the shower head. “Sure, Dieter. This means absolutely nothing. Just two besties jerking it off, side by side. Totally casual!”

He let out a huff as he pumped his fist faster, “Well, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if those noises you were making didn’t make my cock as hard as a slab of concrete!”

“Dieter, shut up, and get yourself off! Or so help me—”

“Yes ma'am!” He squeaked out.

In tandem you placed the shower head close to your clit once more while he fisted his cock, and when your moans started to intermingle and become one, that’s when your glazed over eyes met once more. He had his lip harshly taken between his teeth, his cock was twisting and pulsing beneath his fist. He leaned in close, lips just barely brushing your bare shoulder where he had dipped his head down to nuzzle you. His eyes flickered upwards towards your face, pupils darkening by the second, “I really want to fuck you right now, baby.” He rasped.

You met his gaze, thighs trembling and your eyes rolling slightly as your orgasm rippled through you, “yeah, you wanna fuck me, Dieter? How badly do you want to fuck me?”

“So fucking bad, baby. You’ve got no idea.” He mewled, “there’s that convenient bench right over there.” He gestured to the shower bench with a coy tilt of his chin, “you can sit right on my cock, if you’d like that…”

“Did you have that bench installed for convenience purposes or for your old man bad back?” You asked teasingly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, glaring playfully before he chuckled, “a bit of both. More-so on the convenience side of things. And, it’s newly installed so you and I would be the first to use it.” He winked coyly.

“Really? Well, your offer is most tempting, Bravo. I’d like to take you up on it and sit on your big fucking cock.”

“Now we’re talking.” He grinned, loosening his fist around his cock so he could offer you a hand and helped you up. Now you were both directly under the stream of water, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. You kissed deeply, giggling in unison when you grabbed his ass and he grabbed yours. He could happily live in this moment forever with you, even if it meant that his skin would inevitably prune and probably fall off.

You backed him up against the shower bench, climbing into his lap as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position along the marble bench that could easily fit both of you.

You wrapped your own palm around the base of his cock for the first time as you slowly sank down around his girth till he was fully pressed inside of you, bottoming out with a low grunt against your lips. He let his arms loop firmly around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could so that your chests were pressed flushed together. He swore he saw heaven behind fluttered lashes when you started to slowly roll your hips into his, bouncing and grinding along his length.

If it wasn’t for his steadfast orgasm, he probably would have lasted longer before he was shooting thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, but he was a man, after all. And while his cum leaked and dripped from your weeping little hole that was still stuffed full of his cock, he made sure that you got to come again, too. He pistoned his hips upwards at an unruly pace, loving the way that your nails clawed at his back and shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. Maybe I’ll get those tattooed on me later. He briefly thought as you came undone around him, crying out his name.

You stayed seated on his cock for what felt like hours before he gently eased you off him, his cock now soft between his thighs and glistening in a thick, pearlescent ring of your combined releases.

You washed one another’s bodies under the lukewarm stream and he was the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and when you emerged, he had a towel waiting for you. You kissed a few more times, gentle pecks of intimacy as you stood side by side in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.

“Soo, where are you sleeping tonight?” He suddenly asked with a mouthful of toothpaste. His deep pools of brown boring into yours.

You hadn’t really thought that far if you were being honest…and now with that fresh ‘I just got fucked good’ glow illuminating your features, and the remainder of your high still sizzling, you suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

“Um, well, where do you want me to sleep?”

“I asked you first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for your response.

“Okay, fair, how about on the count of three we say it together?”

“Deal.” He nods.

“Okay—one, two, three—” you counted off in unison.

“Your bed—my bed.”

You both looked relieved at your answers, letting out breaths you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank fucking god.” You both laughed.

He kissed you then, mouthful of toothpaste and all. You made a funny squeaking sound when he had unexpectedly kissed you, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear.” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling back slowly.

When you left the en-suite, you found Dieter already in bed, sitting up with the rolling tray resting in his lap. He had a fresh pair of boxers on, this pair was made of cotton and was far less constricting. He was rolling another joint to smoke before bed when he looked up, smiling softly at your lingering presence in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Well, don’t be shy, bug. Ain’t the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He winked, patting the empty spot beside him on his massive king sized bed.

You took a deep breath, remembering that this was Dieter Bravo, your best friend and partner in crime. He would always be your best friend.

You made your way over to the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers back so you could climb underneath them.

He finished rolling the joint, grabbing his lighter from the nightstand to spark it up before he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Hey, we don’t have to like—do anything, okay?” He reassured you.

“But Dieter, I wanna do stuff with you. It’s just—in your bed it feels…” you trailed off, scratching at the outside of your arm absentmindedly.

He tucked the joint behind his ear and rolled over into his side so he was facing you, using his elbow to prop himself up, “I understand, baby. This is…new for me as well. We can smoke this joint and then make out a little? See where it goes?…”

You nodded, lips curving up into a soft smile that sent his heartbeat racing, “yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He grinned.

He sparked the joint up between you, taking a few hits before he passed it off to you. This went on a few more times before your bodies just naturally gravitated towards one another, and when the joint died out, he set it down on the tray on his nightstand before his lips found yours.

You kissed like this for hours, simply just enjoying one another’s company and soft touch when the sun began to rise over the Los Angeles landscape. Dieter was uncharacteristically quiet, even for being stoned.

Your fingers were gently dragging through the patches in his beard, playing with his scruff in between kisses. “I can hear you overthinking, Dee.”

“Are you a wizard?” He chuckled, “you can hear my thoughts? That’s crazy!”

“Shh.” You giggled. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to yell.”

“Sorry.” He whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. He would absolutely crawl inside of your skin and never leave, but well—-he might go to prison if he did that.

“I’m gonna say something that might sound stupid, but I gotta get it off my chest, okay?” He started, his glazed over eyes met yours as he pressed a few kisses to the underside of your fingertips.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so—well, this is just different for me because I don’t normally fuck my friends.”

You gave him a funny look at his admittance, unable to help yourself.

“I’m serious! I don’t fuck my friends—and well, I care about you a ton.Maybe even more than I care about myself? Anyway, I don’t want things to get weird between us tomorrow. Like if you wake up and regret everything that happened, I just want you to tell me, okay? My hopes is that maybe you felt the little spark that I did and if you did we can—”

“Dieter, I promise you I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight. No matter where this takes us, I’m always going to love you, and you’re always going to be my best friend.” Your words were sincere and directly from your heart and he knew you weren’t just saying shit just to say it.

“I think I just shat my heart out, that was so sweet.” He giggles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “In all seriousness, thank you. I was just afraid that this would ruin our friendship, and I would lose you forever.”

“Never, Dieter. You could never lose me.” You reassured him.

“Good, cause in the morning? I’m making waffles!”

Helen Mirren: Narrator for the Barbie Movie:

Dieter did not in fact make waffles the next morning. Instead, Dieter had his breakfast between your thighs, and then let you order whatever brunch you wanted on his black card

"You can be my sugar baby! I get to eat you out and you can order whatever you want on my card." He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of your pussy.

"That's not how that sort of thing really works, Dieter. But yeah, okay."

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

bed time • a. artlert

I cannot get over the idea of armin trying to help his little insomniac, gamer girlfriend get some rest, putting her to sleep the best way he knows how 😮‍💨🥴

cw: nerdy, bratty, blackfem!reader, mean, dom armin (he’s so aggressive in this 😫), choking, fucking reader in her gaming chair, heavy squirting, overstimulation, degradation, pet names (sweetheart, angel, daddy’s used a couple times), name calling, spit kink, fingering, aftercare

📝: I was supposed to put this out last night but I got preoccupied and didn’t finish so here y’all go! 🫶🏾

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“Dude, you totally could’ve taken that shot. The fuck are you doing?” The sounds of (y/n)’s irate voice ringing throughout the bedroom. It was the late night hours of a relaxed Saturday night, possibly into Sunday..you hadn’t been vexed to check the time as you were busy smashing away at keys on your computer and shouting into your headset. Wired frame glasses sitting atop your pretty face, lights reflecting off of your tiny silver nose stud and your newly installed wet and wavy locks resting underneath the large pink bonnet atop them, along with your cat eared headset. This was a regular occurrence, one that took place more so often than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t rare for you to be up at all hours of the night, playing online games with friends, even at the expense of your own rest. It was a nasty habit, one you formed after pulling all night study sessions. Now you were a full blown insomniac with seemingly no end in sight. Although, there was one person who wasn’t too thrilled about the sudden shift in your sleep patterns… “..come on, (y/n). It’s three am. What are you still doing awake?” The first words to leave the mouth of your long time boyfriend and sweetheart, Armin as he burst through the door of your designated game room. He himself was certainly no stranger to this lifestyle and would happily hop on matches with you..at a reasonable hour of course. But that was never the case with you! Always up until the asscrack of dawn, playing game after game instead of going to bed. But now that he was spending the next couple of weeks at your place, he wasn’t having it. Suddenly, snickers could be heard through the feed of your headphones and talking to you. “Is that your boyfriend, (y/n)? How sweet..” rolling your eyes and smacking your lips at the sarcastic joke of one of your friends. “Shut the hell up. He’s just coming to check on me.” He was standing in the doorframe, shirt off and pajama pants dangling on his v-line..a tattoo each on his chest and forearm decorating his skin; looking good as always.

taking his fingers through the blonde shag atop his head, he’d make his way over to your chair, resting his arms atop the front. He had grown alarmed as is when you’d text him up well up into four am or try to FaceTime when he was so exhausted. It just didn’t occur to him how bad the problem truly was until he visited. He had all but had to drag you off of it and he was really scared for your mental and physical health. “Sorry guys, I’ve been busted. Baby says I gotta go to sleep.” Although you weren’t too thrilled to do so. However, he’d be disappointed to find that you had no plans to go easily. Even so, you’d log off and take off your headset. Turning in your chair in a frustrated huff. However, Armin was not swayed by your tiny tantrum. “Don’t give me that look. You promised you’d get some rest. At this rate, babe, you’re not going to be able to keep going.” You heard what he was saying well enough, too bad his words weren’t quite registering. You were still wired up, hyper and amped as always. Possibly it was the Red Bull coursing your veins or adrenaline from another win but being stopped mid game was truly putting a damper in your mood. “Arminnnnn. I’m fine..I swear, you worry too much.” That agitated and pouty look on your precious face was doing nothing more than fueling his point. “(Y/N), you’re going to bed. That’s it. Now come on. Tell your little friends good night and let’s go to sleep.” When he got like this, it wasn’t in your best interest to attest him but you couldn’t help yourself! It was always fun to push his buttons and poke the bear.

“And if I don’t want to, then what?” Folding your arms across your chest, batting those fluttery lashes and giving him quite the irritated glare. Granted, Armin was used to you being defiant when it came to this but he wasn’t much in the way of arguing with you tonight. Especially with exams coming up and him having to go to work in the morning. The last thing he wanted was to find you collapsed on the floor, in front of the computer after your body gives out. Which has happened! “(Y/N), don’t start. I’m not doing this with you.” Feinting his frustration through a laugh as he stood before your chair. Arms outstretched on each side and towering over you..you couldn’t lie, it was a bit of a turn on! “Well last I checked, Armin, I am a grown woman and I can stay up all night if I want to. Now let me finish—“ but before you could spin around in your chair, defiant and purposely being a brat, he’d spin it right back around and keep it in place. “Do you really wanna try me right now? Because I wouldn’t advise it, sweetheart. Do not piss me off..get up..now.” that low, sexy growl creeping into his tone and it was then that you knew you’d only need to press just a tad bit more to get the reaction you needed. Truth be told, you were beginning to get a bit tired…. “Make me..”

but it was far more exciting to let him fuck you to sleep!

he knew that you were baiting him along, Armin wasn’t dumb by a long shot. You were only stalling to get him riled up. Normally, he wouldn’t think to bite..dismissing you altogether but since you just kept asking for it, he’d give you what you needed: to be put to bed and in your place! Chuckling to himself, Armin would try and calmly respond but it was blatantly obvious that you wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he’d grasp your throat; lightly choking you but with enough force to keep you pinned to the chair. Eliciting a loud gasp from between your lips..gaze fixated solely on him from this point forward. “Remember..you asked for this..” just then, he’d shove his tongue through your pursed lips, permeating the inside of your mouth with sloppy kisses. Ones that took you completely off guard and caused you to whimper underneath his grasp. At this point, you had made your bed and now it was time to lie in it. He gave you an option to get up of your own accord but now? You’d be lucky if you were able to even walk once he finished! Amid the makeout session, Armin slowly but surely began to peel off those thin articles of clothing, exposing those perky titties which were his favorite..your dark hued nipples hardening the second they made contact with the cool air. He wasn’t about to give you an opportunity for the slightest bit of control and that much was apparent when he began massaging those big breasts, fixating on them for a moment but when you tried to put your hands up to assist him, he’d quickly push them away, pinning them to the arms.

“Did I ask for your help?..”

“ ‘Min, I—“

“That’s what I thought. Get those fucking hands out of my way.”

it was something about his sudden aggression and domineering attitude that would turn you on beyond relief. Releasing a couple gasps, you’d chew your bottom lip and allow him to take the reins. From there, he’d nip at your neck, growling and suckling on the sensitive skin. Eventually, he’d pull back those thin shorts and sink his hand inside. He wanted to see your reactions..those cute little faces you made when he was pleasuring you. Burying those digits to the knuckle inside of your warmth and circling your clit with his thumb pad, all while not breaking eye contact once..yeah, you definitely had pissed him off something fierce! “Open your legs, put them on the side of the chair and don’t move until I say so..” positioning yourself in sort of a stir up. It was then that he’d hoist them and remove your shorts to render your bottom half completely nude. It didn’t take long to realize how aroused you were by his sudden shift in demeanor. Your normally sweet Armin was so irate, that he was handling you like a rag doll. Parting your thigh, slapping your ass and clutching your neck. “..such a brat..always giving me a hard time..” muttering to himself as he continued working you over with those middle and index digits; pushing in and out, going slow just to stir up that building slick. Coating his hand and palm with the slippery substance. You were so adorable, attempting to resist and defy him, knowing damn well that you’d only wind up caving to him eventually. Hell, your insides were already two steps ahead of your mind; conforming to his shape! Twisting your head away from him, only to have it forcefully snatched back.

“But you only do it because you know I’ll fuck that little attitude out of you, don’t you?” Grinning with a sinister glare as he sped up his movements. Sounds of sloshing wetness coagulating with your sexy little cries and the squeaking of the chair. “Answer me, sweetheart. Don’t be rude.” And at the moment, you were practically trembling for him and Armin was more than happy to see that sight “..y-yes, daddy!” That bulge was beginning to grow ever so slightly from behind his sweats and you were the reason. Getting his dick all hard when you defied him. It made it all the more satisfying to break you when you acted this way. Going from rolling your arms to not even being able to keep them in the front of your head as he made you climax. To smacking those pretty little lips to having them wrapped around his cock when he throatfucked you for testing his patience…see, to the outside world, he appeared as sweet and innocent but you knew better! Nobody could handle you the way he could and he’d be damned if you kept trying it. He’d continue to press at your spot, mashing against that sensitive nerve to evoke more out of you. Those blonde locks of his straggled in front of your face as he pressed your foreheads together. “Aww, so you haven’t completely lost your mind. Open your mouth, right now.” Prompting you to do so to spit between your jaws. So he could force your head down and make you regurgitate it back into your folds. It was almost pathetic how desperate you looked, bogged down on his hand; squirming in an attempt to take him further. He knew what it was that you needed..craved more than anything and that was to be crammed full of his dick! It was almost disgusting how badly he had been dreaming of doing this exact thing. Fucking you in this very position. Piping you with those eight inches as you played your little games…it gave him a rush to think about all your friends hearing you get fucked senseless. And alas, it had come to fruition. Those little legs dangling off the sides of the chair arms and shaking violently. Before any of that could happen though..he needed something else and that was to make you come. Just one time of many..

“I’m!—Baby, I’m gonna come, pleaseee.” But that was sufficient enough for him. No, if that’s what you wanted, you better have begged for it. “Are you? Last time I checked, that’s not how you ask for permission, sweetheart. Act like you’ve done this before.” That condescending tone twisting your stomach up in knots. But not for any reason other than the fact that he’d always know how to handle you..making you act accordingly whether you wanted to or not.

“Please, can I come?! Please, ‘Min..” and because you groveled so sweetly, he had no choice but to grant your wish. Clutching your shoulder blade, Armin doubled down on his fast pace, hammering into you until you drenched him in that shower of your sweet cum; bringing you to a squirting orgasm with only his two fingers. “That’s right, baby. Let it out..my pretty little slut, squirting all over this chair..fuck yes.” Listening to you cry out in pure ecstasy as you came. “Fuck! Fuck!..” This man was not to be messed with but it was a lesson you’d soon learn. Instilled and implanted in your head until you knew better not to pull this stunt again. It wasn’t until you came to did you see the aftermath but this was just a mere taste of what he had in store. Removing them from inside of your tightness to your tongue, where he had you sucking them clean. That look in your eyes was one of neediness. As if you were longing for far more after that. Whilst you were busy tasting yourself, Armin was getting ready to have his fair share of fun. Tugging down those sweats to reveal his erection, immediately stroking it in his palm. “I wanna fuck you so bad..make you nut all over this dick..” his voice cracking and going high pitched as you watched that precum leak from his tip. Swollen and beaming red, you knew he needed to feel you immediately..and with that warm, dripping little hole all stretched out for him, it was the perfect place. Taking his thumb and pointer, Armin would part those plump lips and suck his teeth. “..that fat little pussy..she’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Let me in it…just like that.” Talking you through as he penetrated that warmth. One thing your man could always agree on was how good that pussy was. No matter how mad you made him, he was going to forgive you the second he could fuck you. And just for troubling him tonight, he was going to need more of those waterworks.

“Mmmm..give me that dick. I wanna feel you so deep up in it..” he wasn’t much for letting you make demands right now but with the way you felt suctioned around his shaft, he’d give you the whole world if you asked for it. “Look at how good you take me, angel…creaming on it. Goddamn, I love you..” having to laugh off his own weakness to your mix. You’d both watch as it slid in, disappearing with each aching inch being shoved into your walls. But it wasn’t until he’d start to move did he regain a semblance of control. Squelching noises arising with each slow push..smacking skin filling the room along with those shuddered whimpers from Armin and (y/n). At that point, you were only fitting him halfway; the curvature of his cock hooked inside of you and trying to hit your g-spot. He knew all the pressure points and ways to make you tick. To have you climbing these walls and crying out for him all night. With your legs occupying the arms of the chairs, you’d toss your hands to the back of it, clawing into the headrest as he fed you those deep strokes and his palm returned to your throat to keep you focused on him.. “That’s it..look at me. Look me in the eyes when you take this dick. I know it feels so good, doesn’t it, sweetheart? You’re my baby but you like it when I fuck you like my little whore, right?” And it was then that you were starting to cave! Melting in his grasp as he mixed up those insides. After fitting only four or so inches, enough to get you stirred up, he’d push in a couple more until he was nearly buried at the hilt. Those heavy balls slapping against your ass.. “I love it, I love it so fucking much! Thank you..” knowing that he had broken you down and got into your head now. All of that instilled in your empty little brain that when he asked you to do something, you’d listen. Of course, you weren’t the only caving and cracking under the powerful sensation. “Mmm! You’re fucking me so good, daddy..keep going, right there..!” whining so helplessly as you remained impaled on his dick. Only mere minutes away from releasing yet again. He didn’t care how many times you came. If you flooded the floor, the chair or anything in your vicinity, you were going to make a mess for him and do so until he felt like stopping. Pinning you to that seat with all his force, Armin fucked up into you relentlessly, with no intention to slow down. Those beautiful tits bouncing with each stroke. Not even when he accidentally coaxed out more of that liquid; this time spraying his chiseled abs in the process. Something about that sight drove him crazy. “Oh my God…you’re squirting. You’re doing so good for me!..stay just like that, don’t move..” he’d prompt you to maintain that pose, thrusting a little faster until he nearly knocked you back into your desk. Meanwhile, the static feed from your headphones could be heard out of earshot. Mumbling from your friends; speculating of what they were hearing at the moment were you and your man in the midst of a rough fuck session. And they’d be correct. They had been on the receiving end of your moans and cries, cursing back at each other in lust filled fury. The two of you would continue on for at least another ten minutes or so. Exchanging orgasms and expletives until either of you could muster up another drop. Ending with him spilling his seed all inside of that fertile womb. But by the end of it all, he'd fulfilled his mission well enough. Your eyes were damn near shut and you were hardly coherent.

“Aww..tired, angel?” Knowing he wouldn’t elicit a real response, he’d just laugh as you nodded your head. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up..” getting himself together so that he could hoist you in his arms and carry you to the bed. It was there where he’d lay you down carefully and go retrieve a warm washcloth; wiping over your sore body and changing you into something warmer and less drenched. All the while, you were fading further into slumber. It didn’t take him long to get you situated but once he did, he’d cover you with a warm blanket, too your forehead with a loving kiss and whisper into your ear;

“…goodnight, angel.”

knowing you’d gladly let him put you to sleep if he did it like this.

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