#have I mentioned that these two are my favorite when they are as dumb as possible

[auteurdelabre]

A LITTLE SUN PART 7 (part II) Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+

tags: SMUT. Penetration, Oral (m and f receiving), use of 'daddy' (but you ain't into it), use of 'baby', Dieter being Dieter, fluff, like such tooth-rotting sweetness its almost gross, idiots in love, pregnancy, talk of pregnancy body changes/self esteem, love love love, family issues, mentions of parental death.

a/n: Tumblr is dumb and won't let me post the entire chapter in one post. ARGH. So below is part two.

HERE IS PART ONE OF THIS CHAPTER.

series masterlist

Your mother is pacing around the kitchen when the doorbell rings. With a muttered grumble she strides to the front door, tugging it open with a flourish. She expects to see her pregnant daughter there, what she doesn’t expect is a six foot movie star she hates to be flinching at her.

He’s wearing a short sleeved linen shirt, freshly pressed slacks and his usually unruly hair has been combed neatly.  He even got Magda to trim his beard for him. He wants to make a good impression.

"Hi," Dieter says, his stomach churning anxiously as your mother stares him down. "I'm Dieter-"

"I know exactly who you are," the woman snaps, arms crossing over her front. "What do you want? I’m afraid I don't have any more daughters for you to buy babies from."

She tries to look around his broad shoulders. "Where is my daughter by the way?"

Dieter shuffles back and forth, his expensive dress shoes scraping the ground. Suddenly all his bravado has left him and he feels much like a chastised child. 

"I wanted to talk to you," Dieter explains. "Just you and me if that’s okay?"

Your mother's brows knit angrily. "So she couldn't even be bothered-"

"She doesn't know I'm here," Dieter interjects.

He goes to say something more when he thinks he notices a car slowing down up the block. Paparazzi. Your mother notices as well because she ushers Dieter into the house, closing the door behind him sharply. 

"You have five minutes." 

Dieter slips off his shoes and follows her to the couch, about to launch into his speech when he sniffs the air.

"Are you baking?"

"Cinnamon bread. My daughters favorite," your mother says, eyes misting. She regards Dieter a moment, softening. "Would you like a piece?" 

"I'd love one." 

He takes a seat on the couch as ordered, watching as your mother brings out a tray holding several slices of cinnamon bread, a tea pot and two mugs.

“This is so fuc- darn delicious,” Dieter corrects himself, wiping the crumbs from his fingers on his pants, much to your mother’s dismay. “I love it.”

Your mother offers a small grunt by way of reply, watching him eat and taking small sips of her tea. Dieter notices you both hold your cups the same way, forefinger and pinky slightly out. It makes him long for you, wishing you were here with him as he attempts this conversation.

But you can’t be, he knows you’re too stubborn for it. Judging by how your mother is looking at him now, it’s a familial trait.

“I wanted to come over and try to explain things.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” your mother snaps, her teacup placed on the coffee table. “You and my daughter made a baby, she’s selling it to you and she never told me.”

"I'm sorry it was a secret for so long,” Dieter says. “It's just because of my notoriety that we had to keep it under wraps.”

“From the world, I understand, but from her own mother?” She shakes her head. “Do you know how hurtful that is? To find out your only child is pregnant because of the tabloids? To think you’re going to be a grandmother and then find out she’s selling the baby off?”

“She signed an NDA," Dieter explains with a wince, knowing how awful it sounds. "I'm so sorry. She hated to do it. It was my fault."

"And your mother?" Your mom huffs. "I bet she knew she was going to be a grandma before the tabloids di-"

She breaks off, irritated when she sees the hollow look in Dieters eyes.

"My uh, my mom isn't alive," Dieter says, fingers tapping anxiously at his side. "She died when I was in my twenties."

"Your father?"

Dieter shakes his head, wincing. Your fierce mother immediately softens her tone, her shoulders lowering.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry to me about anything,” Dieter says in a soft rasp. “I’m the one who you should be mad at. Not your daughter.”

Your mother wraps her arms around herself. "How is she?"

"Hurt. She misses you."

"Must not miss me much. She's made no attempt to call."

"She's worried about what you'll say. Your opinion matters so much to her, you know that. Especially with her dad gone."

Your mother swallows. "They were so similar. So stubborn and..."

Suddenly the dam behind the woman's eyes breaks and Dieter watches her face crumple. 

"I just wish he was here," she says, shoulders shaking. Dieter feels his own eyes filling with tears, his heart aching in tandem. He can't help but reach out and cover her hand with his. 

"I’m so sorry."

"If he was here he would know exactly what to say," your mother continues, allowing his hand to remain over hers. "Michael could always get through to her when I couldn't."

“My mom knew me in a way my dad never did,” Dieter offers after a moment. “Knew exactly the right thing to say at the right time. It’s hard not having that. But you still have time with your daughter. Time that’s wasting with you two being mad at each other.”

Your mother blinks up at Dieter, a slow understanding reflected in her swimming eyes. As if she’s seeing him properly for the first time. He continues on, encouraged that it’s been over five minutes and she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“And I know you think this whole thing with the baby is a spontaneous decision and that I’m massively immature and yeah, I can be. But you need to know that when your daughter told me she was pregnant it was the best day of my life," Dieter says, his voice thick with emotion.

He takes a moment, swallowing and blinking furiously. His hand tightens around your mothers’.  

“But I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed. She’s changed me, my son has changed me. I’m not perfect, but I also don’t think there’s anyone in the world that will love your da—grandson more than me.”

Your mother blinks rapidly, her weathered face softening further. “My grandson?”

“If you want him to be,” Dieter explains, suddenly unsure. “If your daughter is okay with it. I don’t have any parents in my life. It would be nice for him to have a grandmother.”

Any lingering distaste your mother may have held for Dieter is wiped away in that moment. The sincerity in his wide dark eyes and the nervous way he twists the rings on his fingers endears her further.

“And I know you’re upset with her about all of this but I promise I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life,” Dieter finishes, his eyes glassy. “Even if she’s in Sacramento doing school. Even if she never wants to see me or our son. I want to make her happy and that means taking care of you too. The house is paid for; your daughter will be taken care of.”

Your mother’s hands move from under Dieter’s to over, clasping his wide hands tightly. She has a gentle smile on her face now, the anger gone from her voice.

“I thank you Dieter. That is a kindness that touches my heart. Knowing I can remain in the same house I raised my family in means more to me than you realize. But it wasn’t your place to do it.”

“I know.”

“I can’t accept it.”

“Please,” Dieter begs with his big brown eyes so round and sorrowful your mother has to blink back a new onslaught of tears. “She’s giving me the world. The rest of your mortgage is nothing in comparison to that.”

Your mother can’t help but laugh out loud at the earnestness in his expression. He grins crookedly as she laughs, wiping tears from her lash line. He waits until she sobers, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

“Alright, I accept it. But only if you’ll let me cook you dinner every once in a while.”

“And cinnamon bread?”

“And cinnamon bread,” your mother says laughing again.  “As for taking care of my daughter? That is something you’ll have to take up with her. But be warned she’s even more stubborn than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dieter grins shyly, causing the two of them to chuckle between themselves softly.

“I’ll call her,” your mother says resolutely. “I need to apologize and tell her she can move back home if she wants.”

Dieter immediately stiffens. He hadn’t thought about this part.

"Actually if its okay I want her to stay with me until the baby is born," Dieter explains, curls falling into his eyes, his mannerisms anxious. "I like having my son nearby."

"And perhaps having my daughter nearby too?" Your mother peers into his face with a small curl of her lips.  “You care for her. More than a boss for an employee. Or a father for a surrogate.”

Dieter looks overcome for the moment, his dark eyes on the floor. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“That’s between you two,” your mother acknowledges. “It’s not my place to say anything.”

Before Dieter can say anything in reply he hears the sound of a frantic key turning in the lock and the front door is thrust open. 

The two of them whip their heads in the direction of the front door to see you stumbling into the house, slamming the door behind you. Your hair is wild, your face flushed and you look extremely pissed off. You look at the two of them on the couch and your brows knit.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

"How did-"

"Magda," you answer before Dieter can finish the question. "Why the fuck are you here at my house with my mom?"

You watch as your mom rises from the couch next to Dieter. Her eyes are wet and when she gazes at your very full stomach she gives a soft little gasp. 

"Honey-"

"Don't honey me," you snap, feeling angry tears welling in your eyes as you glare over at Dieter. "Let's go, Dieter."

"Baby, wait-" Dieter starts, pausing only when you whip back around to fix him with a leveling glare.

He looks so sorrowful standing there between you and your equally broken-looking mother that you find yourself relenting. You have an idea on why he’s here and even if it wasn’t his place you can’t deny that it was kind of him to try.

"Go wait in the kitchen, please."

Dieter opens his mouth to suggest something else but the glint to your eyes has him slamming it shut and nodding. You wait until he's shuffled into the next room before looking back at your mother. 

"Baby?" Your mom ventures gently. 

"He calls everyone that," you lie. 

She nods slowly but you know she doesn't believe you. Your mother also knows you well enough that she doesn’t attempt to sway you.

"Here, come take a seat," she offers motioning to the couch. "Your ankles must be swollen."

You lift a surprised brow but you waddle over to her, settling into the seat with an exhale. You look at Dieter’s leftover cinnamon bread crumbs and frown. How long was he here for? You look back to your mother, shocked at her gentle countenance. You’d expected anger or frustration, instead you see only regret.

"How did you know about the ankles?"

"I was the same when I was pregnant with you," she says coming to sit on the other end of the couch. "I carried high like you as well."

"Really?" You absently drape your fingers over the curve of your stomach.

"Oh yes," your mother smiles, eyeing your bump.

As you sit there discussing this with shy smiles you wish that this pregnancy was normal. That you had a husband and excited family that threw you a baby shower for a child you'd be able to bring home and care for at the end of it all. 

You wish your mom felt comfortable to place her hands on your stomach and to care for this little boy you carry. But she’s holding back her emotions, not wanting to get attached.

After several moments your mom shuffles closer to you on the couch, her hand coming to cup not your stomach, but your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” your mom says, and you’re shocked at the tears pooling in her eyes. “I never wanted… I just… I acted shamefully.”

“I don’t understand why,” you explain, chin wobbling. “We’ve always had a great relationship. Or I thought we did.”

“I thought we did too,” your Mom acknowledges. “But considering you kept this a secret I think I might have done something wrong along the way. You never should have been afraid to come to me with this.”

You don’t know how to answer that.

“You won’t understand until you’re a -” you mom catches herself. “A parent provides for their children, not the other way around. I felt ashamed that you felt you needed to take care of me.”

For a moment you look at her not as your mother, but as a woman. A tired woman who sacrificed so much to see you taken care of and your heart cracks. 

“I like taking care of you Mom,” you explain, swallowing the tears there. “I love you. You’re all I have left. Fighting with you these past few weeks has been awful.”

“I know honey,” your mom says and now she pulls you into her arms, rocking you as if you were still that child who ran to her with a scraped knee or boy troubles. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“Of course I do,” you say, burying your face in her shoulder as you let the tears flow. For the first time since your father died the two of you cry together, arms wrapped around one another, your son nestled between the two of you. Finally sniffling you pull back, wiping at your eyes.

“Were you mean to Dieter?”

“Tried to be,” your mother replies with a grin. “Impossible to be though. He’s very sweet.”

“He’s been amazing through this whole thing,” you answer honestly, feeling the need to sing his praises to the woman who usually derides him. “He’s been the most supportive, caring version of himself I’ve ever seen. Sober, sweet and I love being around him.”

Your mother’s eyes search yours intensely, so much that you blink wondering what she’s looking for.  Her gaze breaks when a shy Dieter knocks on the wall separating the two rooms.

“Uh, is it okay if I come in?”

Your mother laughs. “We’ll come to you. My daughter needs some cinnamon bread.”

The two of you stand, your mom helping you before letting her hand fall briefly to your swollen belly. You watch her face beaming as she does before her eyes go to yours.

“My baby having a baby,” she murmurs.

The two of you enter into the kitchen hand in hand. Dieter is standing by the sink, his hair even more wild than usual. He was obviously running his hands through it anxiously.

Dieter approaches you both slowly, as if he’s concerned one of you will be furious. When he sees the easy smile in both of your faces and your clasped hands he feels the tightness in his chest release.

“Thank you, Dieter,” you tell him gently as he approaches. He doesn’t push it, doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He just nods his head, smiling and coming to stand next to you. Your mother releases your hand, coming to stand in front of you both.

“Now you can retire,” Dieter offers with a hopeful look in your mother’s direction.

“No,” your mom says shortly, drawing both sets of eyes her way. You feel yourself deflate, closing your eyes for a steadying moment. You can’t stand the cruelty she’s still holding in her heart for Dieter after everything.

“Mom-“

“No, I like my job,” your mother tells Dieter, ignoring you. She comes to stand in front of him, having to look up due to her short stature. “I enjoy it. So I won’t retire. But I will work less and try to enjoy more of my life.”

You both break into easy grins.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your mother’s smile dims a fraction as she gazes between the two of you.

“Dieter has offered me a chance to be the baby’s grandmother,” your mother says quietly. “But that will be your decision my love. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

You swallow. “Do you want to be his grandmother? Even if I’m not in the picture? Even if we have no legal right?”

“I would,” your mother replies without hesitation. You turn your head to face the taller man to your left.

“And you’re really okay with it, Dieter?”

“More than okay.”

Dieter’s eyes are on the ground, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. He wishes his own mother was here, wishes she could have met you. He knows that she would have loved you.

“Then I’m okay with it,” you murmur.

He’s so grateful that his baby will have a grandmother. Even if you want nothing to do with him he’ll forever have this tie to you.

Your mother glances over at Dieter before stepping towards him. 

"Let me see your face," your mother demands cupping Dieter's stubbled cheeks in her hands and forcing his eyes to hers. A few quiet minutes pass, their eyes in silent communion before you see both sets watering.

You watch in shock as your mother leans forward and in an act so naturally maternal kisses Dieter's forehead gently.

"You're a good man," she tells him gently. "A good man who acts silly sometimes."

When tears slip down Dieter’s cheeks you feel your jaw drop.  Your mother pulls him into a tight hug, rocking him as they stand, murmuring something into his wild hair. You breathe unsteadily when his own arms go to wrap around her waist, clinging to her. He looks like a lost boy finding harbor in the embrace of his mother, his shoulders shaking gently as she soothes him in her arms.

She looks over at you, smiling gently. She tugs you over into her arms as well and before long the three of you are embracing standing in the middle of your mom's messy kitchen.

"Will you two stay for dinner?" Your mother asks eyes hopeful when the three of you break apart, all sets of eyes glassy.  

"That would be so great," Dieter says excitedly before you can answer, rubbing at his wet eyes. He wants to take advantage of being in your home. He wants to see where you grew up, where you exist when you're not with him. 

"You're Chilean right?"

"Part, yeah."

"Right, I'm going to pop out to the market," your mom says with a wide grin as she picks up her car keys. "I'll be back in a flash."

Your mother is gone excitedly out the door before you can even process what’s happening. That you’re having dinner with your boss and your mom and your unborn child. It’s all a bit much. And yet the thought warms you.

“So do I get a tour?”

“Sure,” you say grinning. Without thought you take his hand, guiding him through the hall pointing out the rooms, giving small synopsis like “this is where I was standing when my first boyfriend called and broke up with me” and “this is where I fell in the tub and cracked my tooth”

“And you know my bedroom,” you tell him with a smirk. “Very acquainted with the closet, I believe.”

He grins before taking his time looking around your room. Last time he’d been in a rush, but today he looks at everything. He sees the framed photo of you on horseback, the science ribbons for first and second place. He notices a trophy for high school tennis. He grins at the poster of Cillian Murphy behind your door. He sees the Polaroid’s of you and your friends stuck to your mirror.

“You never mention your friends,” Dieter observes pointing at the photo. “How come?”

“I never see them,” you shrug coming over to peer at them. “They all got married, had kids. I was in school and then I was working and we kind of just lost touch.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Honestly? Sometimes. But school and my career just always seemed more important.”

“You don’t think you could have both? A career and a family?”

“Not really,” you shake your head. “Can’t have it all.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrug again. “Something has to give.”

“Only if you have a shit partner,” Dieter offers.

Before you can say anything more he’s gone to your bookshelf, looking at the tomes that reside there and muttering their titles under his breath. You watch him just existing in this room, before your reason for rushing over here affronts you.

“Did you pay off my Mom’s mortgage?”

“Yeah,” Dieter replies after a beat, twisting to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You stare at Dieter as he says this, the passion in his voice overwhelming you. Since when was this his plan? You’re supposed to take the three hundred grand and go.

“Why do that? You knew I was going to do it.”

“I wanted that money to be for you,” Dieter explains. “Not taking care of the mortgage and everything else. I’d pay for your school too but something tells me you’d refuse that.”

“Correct.”

“Your mother was right, you are stubborn.”

This gets a shocked laugh out of you. “What else did you two talk about?”

“That’s between her and me,” he says with a supercilious look on his face. “I think she might like me better than you at this point.”

Affection swims through your limbs and it carries you to him. Without warning your hands go to his shoulders, mouth pressing gently to his. He accepts this eagerly, his wet tongue dabbing against yours gently.

"Thank you," you whisper against his full mouth. "But you don't have to take care of me."

"I like taking care of you," Dieter murmurs, his nose tracing yours. "You spent so long taking care of me and everyone else; let me take care of you now."

You nod; kissing him again and feeling him slowly back you towards your bed.

“Mia,” you remind him.

“Its fine,” he assures you, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you when you’re in a relationship, Dieter.”

“I’m not,” he promises you, “I swear.”

You want to press him for more information. But more than that, you just want Dieter. You need to be as close to him as possible. You need to feel his bare skin on yours, inhale the crook of his neck, taste his lips.

And when he gently urges you onto your back in your childhood bed you don't fight him. You allow him to bring down your shorts and panties and even though you can't see anything other than his hair over your belly you can't stop the gasp that escapes you when his mouth begins to work over your core.  

Moments later after you've come spectacularly for him, groaning out his name with your thighs quivering against his ears and your hands fisting through his hair, he crawls up next to you on the bed. 

He traces over your abdomen, his dark eyes ever widened in wonder as he feels his son underneath his palm. Sunlight filters in through your bedroom window, giving him a haloed effect as he gazes down at you, his mouth swollen and damp.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal life," you smile sleepily as you run a finger along his lower lip. "After being spoiled by Dieter Bravo school is sure going to pale in comparison." 

Dieter keeps the smile frozen on his face but inside his stomach drops.  Your schooling is going to start soon. He’s going to be separated from you. He feels his sons foot kick him and you both giggle. At least he’ll have this part of you.

He helps you into your panties and shorts before your mother returns shortly after. If she notices your flushed cheeks and Dieters extra mussed hair she doesn't comment on it. 

"I cheated," your mom says with a mischievous little smile that Dieter thinks looks identical to yours as she hands you both your plates when you come to sit at the dining table. "There's a wonderful Latin restaurant in town. They make the best palta." 

The food is just as good as she made it seem. Between the palta and the Estofado and variety of empanadas you’re quickly overwhelmed with taste. You take your time savoring it though, making a note to try more Chilean food in the future.

“So I guess I’ll move back tomorrow,” you say after a hot bite of your stew. “I only have the two suitcases.”

Nothing about moving back appeals to you, aside from seeing your mother on a regular basis. You know for a fact that being away from Dieter will hurt, but perhaps that’s for the best. You need to separate yourself from this silly fantasy.

"You can move back here at any time my love," your mom enthuses before casting a quick look at Dieter's downturned face. "But I think it would be best if you stayed at Dieter's. He has all that space and a pool and that chef-"

"But I don't like to think of you here all by yourself," you insist.

"Honey, don't worry about me. I lived with your father and then you for over thirty five years. I need a break."

You sputter a surprised laugh at this. This whole time you had been painting your mother as this sad tragic figure, when really she's a woman coming into her own just as much as you are. You swallow your mouthful, eyes darting to the man at your left.

"Is it okay if I stay at your place a little longer, Dieter?"

"Of course," Dieter enthuses through a mouthful of avocado. "I told you, stay as long as you like. And now your Mom can come visit whenever she likes."

You smile at this, holding in the urge to kiss him.

When Dieter rests his arm on the back of your chair during the rest of dinner you don't even register it happening. When his fingertips absently trace your upper arm as he listens to your mom talking about her job you don't notice. 

But your mom notices. She notices it all.

On the drive back home your mind is a muddle of things. But mostly your heart swells with the knowledge that Dieter, a man you always thought was chronically selfish did this for you at no gain for himself.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you tell him as you walk back into Dieter’s home a short while later. He’s quiet with a faraway look in his eyes.  

"I know. I just wanted to help."

The two of you are heading to the kitchen, about to put away the leftovers your mother insisted on sending home with you. Dieter takes them from your hands with a soft “I got it” before popping them in the fridge.

Dieter had always struck you as self-centered, the entire time you worked for him. From the flippant way he spoke to people in the industry he disliked, to the cavalier attitude towards other PA’s.

But right now all you can think of is the way he's continually showed up for you. The way he supports you in not only this pregnancy but your schooling, your family, your goals. You see a change in him, one that takes your breath away.

“Dieter?”

“Yeah?”

He sees your eyes and the way they go dark the longer you stare at him. The desire is so clear in your expression.  

He crosses the room and his mouth comes to yours, petal soft. He sighs, hands coming to either side of your neck, thumbs propped against your jaw. You lean into the kiss, your belly sandwiched between the two of you.

"Take me to bed, Dieter."

Dieter doesn't hesitate, his arm bands around your waist guiding you to the bedroom. 

He takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your flesh he uncovers. He kisses the stretch marks on your belly, and he caresses the extra flesh that pads your body with a reverence that makes you teary.

Your stomach is getting too large for missionary so he sweetly urges you to roll onto your side, not doing anything until you’re comfortable. Only then does he makes sweet and gentle love to you, your head on his arm as he fills you slowly, watching the way your body responds to him.

He holds you delicately at first, not wanting to be too rough. But you’re eager, so fucking eager, and your hand goes to his hip, urging him to go harder, to go faster.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, your thigh over his, your body slowly being pumped into by him. You’re arching, whimpering his name as he holds you against him. Every stroke feels like adoration, every graze of his fingers against your clit feels like more than just desire.

“I need to hear you come, baby,” he murmurs, his nose running along your temple. You turn your face to him, kissing him gently as his thrusts deepen, his lips hot and needy.

“Wanna come for you,” you gasp, your body starting to clench around him tighter and tighter before your head is tilted back against his throat as you cry his name. Your body spasms as arousal coats his cock still buried within you.

“So good for me, so fucking good,” Dieter groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. Before long his eyes roll back and he’s emptying himself into you, hands gripping your chest and cunt, needing you as close as possible.

Slowly your breathing slows and you both grow drowsy. But before you fall asleep you roll until you’re facing him. He looks so beautiful staring back at you with sleepy eyes and his curls spread out on his pillow.

You kiss him gently, hand at his collar before pulling back.

"Dieter, I think you're gonna make an amazing father."

Something about the sincerity in your voice moves him to tears that he has to blink back. He draws you closer to him under the duvet, needing the warmth of your skin, the closeness of your body.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Every word."

Dieter is on a unicorn floaty, half dozing in the late morning sunshine when you ask him.

"Dieter, will you tell me about your mom?"

It comes out of nowhere one day in the pool. You're half stretched out on a purple pool noodle, your lower half submerged in the clear water as you kick lazily. Dieter turns his head when you ask him. 

"What about her?"

You shift on your pool noodle, getting comfortable. "What was she like?"

Dieter takes a moment to compose his thoughts. His lower lip tends to stick out when he does it. 

"Funny. Smart. Dramatic like me." Dieter grins. "She died when I was in my early twenties and sometimes I wanna be furious about all the time I didn't get to spend with her. But then I count myself lucky I had two decades." 

You don't say much to that. You don't know why but you crave more knowledge about Dieter that isn't surface level. You crave more from him, almost like you need to know him better than anyone. 

"She's the one who encouraged me to go into acting," Dieter continues. "She worked two jobs so she could pay for my acting classes."

"Really?" 

"Yeah. She was so excited when I got the scholarship to RADA," Dieter says dragging his hand through the water. 

"She sounds amazing."

"She would have loved you," Dieter says before he can stop himself. For some reason this comment causes your heart to flip. 

He looks momentarily lost in thought before turning his gaze to you. His eyes scan the freckles starting on your shoulders, the light that shines in your hair. He's dazzled for a moment before he remembers that he wanted to ask you something. 

 "What about you? What was your dad like?" 

A little smile breaks out over your features. You rarely talk about your father but right now all that comes to you are good memories. 

"Smart. Scary smart actually. Like, every time we played wheel of Fortune he'd guess it within like the first two letters," you laugh gently. "He was the first person I told about my Masters program. The first person I told about a lot of stuff. He was always my cheerleader." 

"Sounds like a great dad."

"He loved your movies," you say, kicking your feet in the water gently. "He made me sit through a Cliff Beasts marathon one year for his birthday."

Dieter almost falls off his floaty in shock. 

"No shit. Really?"

"Yeah," you give a giggle before turning a bit reserved. "He and your mom would have gotten along, I think.”

"Bet they would have been the most amazing grandparents," Dieter says in a faraway voice.

"Definitely."

Dieter shifts in the unicorn, causing it to squeak. His sunglasses are slid back up his nose and he grows somber. 

"You must be excited about starting school again," Dieter says tightly hoping the disapproval in his voice isn't obvious.

He looks over at you when you don't reply right away. You look conflicted, almost guilty as you glide a hand through the water in front of you. 

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm continuing on with school and everything because that's what I was doing when my dad died," you offer solemnly. 

"Are you?"

"Not sure. When he died I thought it was such a natural next step to use my biology background and go into research." A niggle of doubt is there at the back of your head. "But I'm not sure that's what I want anymore."

"So you might not go back?"

Dieter hopes the eagerness in his voice isn't too obvious. 

"I don't know," you answer honestly before sliding off the pool noodle and paddling in place. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna have a nap."

Dieter watches you walk up the steps of the pool, ass twitching as you grab a towel and head into the main house. But that's not what causes the grin to start on his face.  

You're not sure about going back to school. 

There's hope. 

"Just this once," Dieter murmurs, his teeth skating along your pulse point. "C'mon baby." 

You’re on all fours, your stomach supported by a variety of pillows. Dieter is behind you, hands on your hips, his body tilting over yours. It’s a Saturday night and he’s just got back from a particularly boring table read.

His hands found yours without question when he got home not long ago, pulling you along with him to bed and whispering into your ear the one thing he’s wanted to hear since he got you pregnant.

You sigh heavily, eyes closed as he sinks into you.

"Please make me come… Daddy.” 

Dieter groans lowly in his throat, his cock driving into you deeply. You're too overwhelmed by the sensation to be turned off by the honorific. And if he’d just left it at that, you could have continued without further distraction.

But Dieter is completely turned on by the expression, his hands coming to hold yours to the mattress as he tilts his mouth to your temple.

"Yeah, you made me a Daddy," Dieter breathes against your ear as he thrusts. "You like that? Huh? Daddy fucking you?" 

“Not at all,” you cringe, unable to help yourself from laughing. The entire ‘Daddy’/‘Mommy’ thing has never turned you on.  “I hate it worse than baby mama.”

Dieter sighs, his motions slowing. "C'mon."

"It's creepy," you tell him. "I don't like the Daddy thing."

"Fine," Dieter grumbles as his motions slow further. "Just wanted a little dirty talk is all."

Dieter’s thrusting has gone from staccato-ed to completely still. You glance over your shoulder at him with your brows raised. His cheeks are red, he’s embarrassed. Dieter rarely gets embarrassed like this and you find it completely endearing.

 “I was just trying to have a little fun,” Dieter pouts, about to pull out of you.

“Hey hey, I like fun,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck so he can’t leave in a huff. You start to push back against his length, gratified when you hear him give a muffled whimper into your shoulder.

“Like maybe you tie me up sometime?”

“You’d let me do that?” Dieter asks in awe, his cock slipping further into you. You groan at the sensation, arm dropping as you gain purchase on the mattress once more. His thrusting is increasing in tempo again, stoking that pleasured spot within you.

“Yeah,” you breathe softly. “Yeah, I would.”

And you mean it. You’ve never done it with anyone else, but you would with Dieter. He doesn’t do things harsh and cruel. He touches you reverently. You trust him. “I’d let you tie my wrists and ankles,” you tell him, body arching as he continues to thrust. “Let you have your way with me.”

Dieter gives a guttural choke at the very thought of it. You tied up, spread eagle on his bed so he could go down on you for hours. Pulling delicious fucking noises from you as you writhe for him.

“Would you want that?” you tease, knowing very well he would.  “Having me at your mercy, Dieter?  Fucking me exactly how you want?”

“Yes,” Dieter almost shouts, “fuck yes I would. Please…. Fuck I…”

His forehead dips to your shoulder blade as he pulls you back and forth against his length, jutting his hips forward. You feel so good, so silken and tight and perfect and he can’t believe this is happening. That you’ve fallen into this comfortably rhythm of give and take. That you can be vulnerable with him like this.

“How would you fuck me?” you ask, feeling your climax approaching. “Tell me, Dieter, I’m so close.”

“Would eat you out for hours. Wouldn’t…. wouldn’t be able to help myself,” Dieter grunts, his cock quickly pressing into you over and over. “Then I’d turn you over...a-and I’d tie your wrists together, mmmph…. And I’d…I’d-“

Dieter doesn’t get to finish that thought because he feels you hit your peak, whining out his name as you climax. Dieter feels your cunt milking his cock and his voice croaks out some garbled gibberish as he empties himself into you.

You fall asleep not long after that, your naked body glowing in the moonlight like some goddess of myth. He realizes he would do anything to keep you like this. Happy and sated and with him.

But mostly, he wants you to want him. 

"You said you got into RADA right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't go," Dieter says as he goes over his latest script suggestion from his agent. "Got a reoccurring part in a soap opera a few weeks before I was starting and then the first Cliff Beasts and then, well, you know the rest."

"Do you still have your audition tape?" 

"It's on YouTube. Some asshole uploaded it when I got nominated for my Oscar."

"Really? Can we watch it?"

"Knock yourself out."

Dieter watches you waddle to the tv room, excitedly bringing YouTube up on the television and typing Dieter Bravo RADA audition. 

You sit on the couch, looking eagerly up at the screen. A very fresh-faced Dieter pops up. 

"Oh my gosh you're so young!" You say with a girlish giggle. "So weird to see you without a beard."

Dieter can't help but casually make his way over to the couch, plopping down next to you and watching his younger self. 

"Hi my name is Dieter Bravo and I would like to submit myself for acceptance into your program," the young Dieter says, eyes bright and smile big. "Today I'll be performing Gloumov’s monologue from The Diary of a Scoundrel” by Alexander Ostrovsky."

"Your voice is so different."

The young Dieter positions himself slightly to the left of the screen. 

"Barely out of puberty." Dieter casts a critical eye over his formerly svelte frame. "And about fifty pounds lighter."

"I like how you look now," you answer honestly. "More manly."

Before Dieter can accept that compliment his younger self is starting the scene. 

"Look into my eyes. Can’t you see there that I’d rather die than cause you a moment’s pain?"

Young Dieter takes a moment, his dark eyes beguiling as he stares into the camera, overcome, before continuing. And there on the screen You see the same transformation that you saw back on set in Ireland. Where Dieter becomes the character. 

"Oh, if you only knew how many times your sweet, gentle smile has stopped me on the very brink of impropriety," the young Dieter pauses, his eyes shiny. 

"But even that day when I forgot myself, you didn’t turn me from the house! Oh, my God, what happiness you’ve given me. What happiness, what happiness!"

A tear is shining on young Dieter's cheek as he gives a soft smile into the camera, a look of relief on his face. 

"Holy shit," you breathe, eyes wide. "Dieter that was ... Really good."

"You sound surprised."

"Well I guess ... I've only really seen you in the Cliff Beasts movies. I didn't know you could, you know, act-act."

"You thought I won an Oscar for having a great personality?"

You give him a playful shove as Dieter's younger self comes back to the screen. 

"Thank you for your time. Hope I see you in the fall."

Dieter plucks the remote from the coffee table about to change it to something less him. He tires of seeing his face on televisions and phones and sides of buses. 

Something captures his attention though, one of the suggested videos on the right. 

"Hmmm, there's a video on home births," Dieter says as he navigates the screen. "Wanna watch? Might prep us."

"Sure."

Thirty minutes later Dieter pauses the television, both of you sitting shell-shocked next to one another. 

"That was a terrible idea."

"I agree."

The camera had captured everything. In HD detail. Up close. Including a very vivid image of a baby crowning.

"That's what's gonna happen to me?" You say in a high pitched voice, struggling to your feet. "I can't do that!"

You've been reading books ever since the strip turned pink, but actually seeing it is totally different.

"A little late for that," Dieter says from the couch watching you begin to pace back and forth in front of the television. 

"That was disgusting," you say with a particularly aggressive jab of your finger towards the television. "Did you know about the placenta? It's like I have to give birth twice!"

"At least it's not twins," Dieter offers weakly. He doesn't miss the irritation that flashes in your eyes. 

"Should we watch the rest?"

"Your call," Dieter shrugs. You take a moment, looking at the television paused on a serious looking doctor. 

You take your seat next to Dieter once more. "Okay. I'm ready."

Twelve minutes later the movie is shut off indefinitely.

"An episiotomy?" You practically shriek before leaving the room. "If that happens I'm charging you extra, Bravo!"

Your mother starts to come over weekly for coffee. The first time she does you show her the nursery. She's all smiles and wet eyes as she walks around the space. You know she's marveling at the high-end designer items, the impossibly soft sheets and ornately carved crib. You never grew up with expensive things like that. 

When the two of you make your way into the kitchen and you make her a coffee she smiles up at you. 

"Dieter told me about the charity he's thinking of creating."

You almost drop the espresso cup that you're holding. "You talk with Dieter?"

"Of course," she nods. "He calls me to update me on the baby and texts the odd photo every now and again."

"What?!"

You're struck dumb by this. Your mother barely texts you, and now she's best friends with your boss? She smiles at your discomfiture.  But you’re blown away, and a little irritated since you also send your mom updates via email almost daily when she’s not here for her weekly (decaf) coffee checkups and snuggles.

"You fit right in here."

"I'm just part of the scenery until the baby gets here" you smile pouring her the coffee and sliding the mug towards her across the counter. "Then it's back to school and on my way to a PhD for research."

You slice up the carrot cake that Petra made for your visit (along with your help), sliding a plate to your mother and taking one for yourself.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," your mom says, gaze curious. "Why are you doing the PhD thing?"

You sit across from her, brows raised. "You know why, Mom."

"It’s just you never wanted one before your father passed," she says lightly. "You said your Masters was enough."

You don't know why but you feel defensive. 

"Well when he died I wanted to do something to honor him I guess. What better way to do that than by helping with the research?"

"Your father was a smart man, he was amazing at his job and so proud of you, you know that," your mother tells you before placing a dry hand over yours. "But his biggest joy in life was being a father."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I don't want you to dedicate your life to something because you feel like you should. This is your life, my love. You only get one."

"I know."

"There are plenty of ways to give back, to honor your father and still be around to watch your son grow up."

Your hackles immediately rise and she can tell the second they do. 

"I'm sorry," she says quickly when she sees the expression on your face. "Never mind. Let's talk about something else."

The rest of the visit flows smoothly, but you can’t ignore the way your mother looks at you whenever you mention Dieter.

"Taco Bell."

Dieter is woken out of a deep sleep by your lips at his ear. You're curled up together in his bed, your belly prodding his lower back. 

"A Burrito supreme and a large Baja blast… And Cinnamon Twists…And four fire sauce packets."

You're warm against his spine, voice a soft whisper huffed along his earlobe. He’s dazed, his eyes blurry as he attempts to understand what’s happening.

"Huh?"

"I need Taco Bell," you urge. "Please?"

A quick glance at his phone tells him that it's nearing 2:00 a.m.

"S'too late for the delivery apps, baby," he murmurs, patting your thigh companionably as if the conversation is now over. 

For the most part, Dieter can anticipate and appease your cravings. Usually through Petra or food delivery apps. But at almost two in the morning he has access to neither. 

You don't care. 

You've been tossing and turning for hours because all you can think about is the beans and tomato and beef... You're practically drooling already. You pat his bottom politely, trying to signal he needs to get out of bed.  

"The drive thru is open."

"It's late."

"But I need it," you whine. 

You have no interest in attempting to drive one of Dieter's fancy foreign cars he keeps in the large garage. And it's too late to call a town car so you're stuck. 

"No one ever needs Taco Bell. Bringing that shit in here is offensive," he mutters into his pillow. "S'full of filler and chemicals."

You give a soft exhale through your nose, about to flop onto your back in defeat when something occurs to you. Something else that you're craving as well.  

Dieter is drifting back to sleep when he feels the light graze of your hand sliding over his hip. He thinks he's imagining it, but as the sensation continues his cock begins to stir. He goes rigid as your hand slides under his boxers, fingertips teasing his warm length as he groans. 

"You do this for me and I'll do something for you when you get back," you purr, tongue coming to trace his lobe. "Daddy." 

Dieter jumps out of the bed and nearly trips in his pursuit to grab his car keys as he simultaneously tugs on his sweatpants. 

"You want cheesy potatoes too?"

When you wake up at seven months pregnant and see your reflection one morning you almost burst into tears.

You’re standing in front of the dresser mirror in your bikini, the only one left that fits. Your tits are practically bursting out of the cups, the bottoms tie at your hips dig into your flesh. You feel huge, you feel ugly and you feel not yourself.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door. Dieter peeks around, already dressed for the pool, a pink towel slung over his freckled shoulder.

“Swim time?”

Usually you swim by yourself, but Dieter has a rare free morning this week and he wants to take advantage. It had seemed like such a nice suggestion at breakfast, but now you balk, wishing you had anything else to wear but your fucking bikini.

Before it hadn’t mattered, but today you feel gross. You want to cover up as much as possible and you reach for your towel. But Dieter’s eyes are already drifting over your body, his cock stirring.

Dieter takes in the way your stomach protrudes out in the bikini, a beacon of fertility; his son nestled there safe within your body. He moves into the room, the towel dropping without thought onto the floor behind him.

"You're exquisite," Dieter breathes, his hand coming to rest on your belly. You feel his thumb gently rub, his eyes sparkling as he continues to stare at you.

"I look disgusting," you say cringing away from him. Dieter won't let go of your wrist as you try to flee. 

"Are you fucking insane?" 

“Dieter stop,” you say, wincing away from him and trying to pull your wrist out of his warm grip.

"You don't believe me," Dieter states flatly. 

"No I don't," you reply sharply. "It's what everyone tells pregnant women so they don't feel shitty about looking like a house."

Dieter blinks at you as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing before he’s shaking his head. His hands slide to your plush hips, turning you back to face the dresser. His eyes have blown pitch black, and his hands can’t stop from running along your body. 

"Look at her," Dieter groans into your ear. "Look at that sexy thing in the mirror."

"Dieter-"

"Keep looking," he urges you, hand gently forcing your face in the direction of the mirror before his hands slide up your bikini top over your breasts, pebbling the nipples. You swallow at the sensation, not even protesting when he unties it at the back, letting the colorful fabric drop to the ground.

You stand there in nothing but your bikini bottoms, cheeks flushed as Dieter groans deliciously behind you.  His hands come to cup your tits, thumbs grazing the protruding nipples.

“See her gorgeous fucking tits?”

You cringe away from the mirror, hating how you look. But if Dieter is lying about how turned on he is, he’s a better actor than you ever gave him credit for because his cock is swelling against your lower back, stiff and pulsing.

You let him untie your bikini bottoms, finding yourself already slick between your legs when they drop to the ground along with everything else. You watch in the mirror as Dieter sheds his swim shorts before gently urging you to place your forearms on the dresser.

You can only watch his face as he notches his cock at the entrance to your pussy, rubbing the head there and gathering the copious amounts of slick. His eyes flick from your face to your cunt as if he can’t decide which he needs to see more.

“Keep watching yourself, beautiful,” He rasps as he sinks into you, cock thick and full as you gasp. You’ll never tire of that sensation, the first thrust of his cock inside you. Your head falls forward but Dieter’s hand is there, gently making a fist in your hair and urging your face to the mirror.

"See how beautiful she looks when she's taking my cock?"

You can't see shit. Your belly is ballooned so far out you can barely handle it. But you look at your face and you see the heavy eyes and parted lips. You see the way you arch into Dieter’s body and how he towers over you and yeah... It's hot. 

"Cock drunk," Dieter tells you with a swell of pride. "All sexy and sleepy looking." 

His hands come to brace yours on the dresser, his dark eyes fixed on yours in the mirror.

"You see her?" Dieter pants, teeth gritting. "You see her tits bouncing? Feel her sweet pussy taking my cock? She's fucking magnificent. How can you say she’s not the sexiest thing alive?"

The way he talks about your reflection makes you almost jealous until you remember that it's you he's talking about. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Dieter babbles as he nears his orgasm. “Never been more turned on in my fucking life.”

And he means it. He means every fucking word. He can’t stop touching you, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your mouth when you tilt back to face him. You whimper his name when he starts to fuck into you harder and harder.

“Come deep, Dieter,” you grunt. “Fuck me full.”

He does with one final thrust, painting your insides as he cries out your name.  

Despite this interlude you still suffer with crisis of confidence at times in the coming weeks. Your back is in constant pain. You waddle when you walk. You've never felt less attractive. 

Dieter is obsessed. He can't stop finding reasons to touch you, brushing your lower back when he passes you in the hall.

All pretenses of employer and employee are gone. You’re basically in his bed every night, fucking him whenever you get the chance. Neither of you observe it outright, but it’s there lingering under the surface every time he asks if you’re ready to go to bed. It’s there when you shower together, washing each other’s hair. It’s there when you both murmur good morning and let him kiss you languidly over coffee.

When he catches you napping in the sunshine on his couch he's so taken with you that you wake up to find his curly head between your legs and his mouth bringing you to a gentle orgasm. You keen against his lips, hands going to card through his hair as you come. 

You know why he's like this. It's because things are coming rapidly to an end. Once the baby is here this all ends. This ready access to sex, you lounging around his house. He'll have a newborn and you'll have a new life. You won't see him. You'll have your money, you'll be going back to school, and your mom's mortgage is paid off. 

Dieter knows how you feel about snuggling and he goes to pull away. 

"Don't," you say, arms outstretched, mouth twisted into a pout. Dieter stares at you in surprise, big puppy dog eyes wide. It makes you melt. He wraps himself around you, face nuzzling into your neck. The two of you snuggle there as you flick on the television to a Christmas special.

Just when you think Dieter is becoming a mature and sensible adult you feel him sigh heavily behind you.

“I'm not watching that depressing Christmas movie!" Dieter insists when It’s a Wonderful Life starts up. "I wanna watch the Muppet Christmas Carol!"

He can’t understand why you can’t stop laughing.

One quiet morning with Dieter filming audio reshoots for the Rogue Duchess you sit at the kitchen table, pensive. You stare at the pro and con list you've made sitting in front of you. 

Ever since the conversation with your mother you've been second guessing your next steps post birth. Are you just doing it because you think you should be? Are you doing it because that's what you were doing when your dad died? Are you doing it because of misplaced guilt?

Your dad had been so proud of you, telling everyone about your Masters problem and how you were well on your way to a PhD like him.  

He talked fondly about having two doctors and a nurse in the house, joking that your home would become like Grey's Anatomy. 

Even then you'd felt a bit of the pressure to perform. To pursue a PhD to make him proud. In all your focus and pursuit you'd never really stopped to ask yourself... Is this what you want? 

Pros - honor dad - get to be called doctor at the end Cons  - no social life - have to move to Sacramento for several years - not guaranteed a job I like when I graduate - away from mom  - STRESS - possible burnout - job market is competitive - won't necessarily make me happy

You need to add something else. Something that's been in the back of your head screaming for your attention. You raise your pen to the paper, adding your final item to the con list. 

- Too far away from Dieter and Bubble. 

And then a sentence you write and then immediately erase before crumpling the entire paper up in a ball.

- I'm in love with Dieter. 

[8:43am] D: It hasn't even started and I'm bored out of my fucking mind

[8:44am]: Dieter it'll be fun.

[8:44am] D: no it won't. I HATE these fucking marathon interview days 

Hours and hours of sitting with Mia and the rest of the crew talking about the upcoming film being released in a few months. He's covered in concealer and powder, his stylist has him in some absurdly patterned shirt that itches and he desperately needs a cigarette. 

[8:45am] D: I wanna be at home with you---

He hesitates before deleting that last message. He can't send you messages like that. You're not dating, no matter how much it feels like you are. He feels twitchy now, all out of sorts as he thinks about you home and waiting for him.

He sneaks off to the corner of the hotel, hoping he can get off a few puffs before Diane wrangles him back inside. 

He lights his cigarette, puffing away. He scans the space to make sure it's just hotel employees before he brings out his phone, going through his photos. He lands on the one from the other night, you mid laugh as the Jenga tower falls. You look so happy, so at ease. 

He’s so ridiculously in love with you.

How can he let you go? How can he go from seeing you every day to you becoming a stranger? You've got one foot out the door at all times and he doesn’t want to hold you back from your dreams. 

It was so easy to play house these past few months. To pretend like you were his. He was such a fool.

"Spare one?"

Dieter fumbles the phone, shoving it a hastily back into his jacket pocket. Its Mia dressed in a sleek black number, her makeup and hair perfect. She motions to the cigarette between his long fingers. 

"My last one," he says ruefully. 

Mia holds out her manicured fingers in his direction. "A quick puff then."

Dieter relents, handing it off to her. She takes a long drag, enjoying the curl of the smoke as the two of them stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It feels awkward being together alone, the two of them haven't spoken since Prague. Dieter feels the need to fill the silence. 

"How's Sam?"

"He's good," Mia nods. "He's not secretly in love with his assistant so it's already much better than my last relationship."

Dieter can't help but let out a small chuckle at that.  Mia has been seen all over the tabloids in recent weeks with her hunky new Scottish co-star. Mia looks at Dieter with a small tilt of her head, squinting up at him.

"You tell her yet?"

"Tell who what?"

Mia takes another drag off the cigarette, giving him a leveling look.  "You know who and you know what."

Dieter says nothing, watching as Mia holds the cigarette aloft. She gives a dramatic sign when she sees. He's going to make her have to say it.

"Have you told your PA that you're fucking crazy about her," Mia says flatly. "That you want to marry her and have tons of little Bravo's running around."

"I do not."

"Maybe just the one little Bravo then," Mia smiles, handing him his cigarette. He feels her heavy gaze on him and he knows that she deserves answers. He put her through a lot and she has been gracious as hell about it.

He sighs heavily before twisting to face her head-on. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"It’s…complicated." 

"What's complicated about love?"

"She told me she doesn't want to be a part of the baby's life."

"Back when she thought you only wanted to be together because you got her pregnant."

"She doesn't want me."

"Dieter I see how she looks at you. The girl is utterly besotted." 

"Might want to tell her that," Dieter huffs in forced amusement. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you’ve really never made it clear how you feel about Dieter. Yes, you like the sex and you laugh with him. But you’ve never actually made overtures, talked about the future. You think of a future that doesn’t include him or your son.

Mia pauses for a moment, thinking about something. Her eyes scan the vicinity and before Dieter can do anything Mia grips him by the collar and plants a chaste kiss to his lips. Dieter pulls back immediately, his face cloudy.

"What the fuck-"

"You'll thank me," Mia promises.

He goes to say something to her about how uncool that was but a text from you sails in, almost as if fate is giving him the prompt he needs.

[8:58am]: If I wanted to postpone school for a little bit, do you think I could still stay with you? I could pay rent and everything. I think I just want to reconsider some things. Dunno if school is where I want to be right now.

“Fuck yes,” Dieter breathes, re-reading the message several times to make sure he’s not reading it wrong. You want to stay. You want to stay longer with him. He's still staring at your text with a goofy smile on his face when Mia’s voice sounds out beside him. 

“Dieter, c'mon! Interviews are starting.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, his grin bright as he follows Mia back inside the hotel for the marathon of interviews.

You want to stay.

The alert comes through on your phone, the setting still stuck on sending you Dieter Bravo related news items. 

You're relaxing on one of the chairs in the backyard, one hand gently rubbing your belly, the other holding your latest crime thriller novel. 

When the alert goes off its instinct to shut the book and retrieve the phone from the table beside you. Normal to scan the links that show up. 

BRAV-ROWE ROMANCE BACK ON? 

You sit up slowly, holding your expansive belly and grunting angrily. You continue reading as you walk inside, pacing around the kitchen. 

Bravo, 40, and Rowe, 25, were spotted earlier today stealing kisses between interviews for their upcoming release The Rogue Heiress. What’s setting tongues wagging is that Rowe has also been recently seen getting cozy with Sam Heughen, 43, back in her native England only last week. Was Sam just a distraction from her real feelings for Bravo? Or is this just a cleverly executed publicity stunt for their upcoming film? 

You slam your phone down onto the counter, irritation flooding you all over. 

What the fuck?

Here you are pining over this guy and he's off kissing his ex? 

Even their couple name is adorable. It fits. Your cheeks are flaming red at the realization that you fell for it. You fell for his lines, for his sweet eyes and sweeter mouth. You let yourself get swept up in a romance that isn't even real.

Dieter is an actor. He knows how to fake anything.

"I'm so fucking stupid," you say shaking your head. Bubble gives a gentle kick, drawing your attention back to the present.

 “Sorry honey. Mom’s not stupid. Just fucking naive.”

It's dark when Dieter finally makes it home, shrugging of his jacket and toeing off his shoes. He wants to go to bed, to hold you after this long and boring day. 

But you're not in bed. You're seated on the couch with the TV off. Your crossword book is beside you but you don't look like you've been working on it. Dieter feels a smile break out over his features at the sight of you in his home. 

"Hi baby," he murmurs as he approaches, confused when you slowly turn to face him with a furious look on your face. "What’s wrong?"

“Have anything to tell me?”

“Uh…no?”

He watches you throw your head back and give an obviously false laugh. “No?”

“No.”

“Kiss any old girlfriends lately, Dieter?”

Dieter is stunned. How the hell did you find out about that? "How-"

"It's all over TMZ and now all the other news outlets," you say, teeth clenching. Dieter thinks about the way Mia checked around them before kissing him. You take a seat on the couch, arms crossed over your chest.

"I didn't just go kiss her," Dieter defends, coming to sit next to you. "She kissed me."

"Didn't really seem like you were fighting her on it."

You hold up your phone where the picture of Mia kissing Dieter is blown up. It's clear you've been studying the picture. Mia’s hand is on his collar, Dieter’s hand is on hers, but only so that he could pull it off. But to the outside viewer this looks very intimate.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“No? Because what it looks like is you kissing your ex girlfriend.”

Dieter takes in the red of your cheeks and the way you’re clenching your jaw and despite everything a little thrill goes through him. 

"Why are you so upset?" Dieter purrs.

"I'm not," you insist.

You feel furious and out of sorts and you can't tell him why because you'll sound like a jealous girlfriend which you absolutely aren't. 

"You sound upset."

"Well I'm not." You chew at your bottom lip angrily. "It's just rude you know? Sleeping with me and seeing Mia. Does she-"

"I'm not seeing Mia," Dieter interjects. 

"I have eyes Dieter," you scoff. 

"She gave me a quick peck after we talked about Sam Heughan, her boyfriend, who she is in a committed relationship with."

"Yeah right."

Dieter stops a moment to take in your flushed cheeks, bright eyes and the arms that cross in front of you. You don’t want him to be seeing Mia and that can only mean one thing and that makes Dieter feel warm all over. His arm is on the back of the couch, almost behind your shoulders.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not," you insist, face heating. 

"Then why are you acting like this?" He probes, shifting closer to you on the couch. "Tell me the truth."

He’s so close and he smells so good and you just fucking… you just…

"Because you're mine."

It comes spilling out of you like a dam, a rush, a torrent of words that once said cannot be taken back. But for once you don’t want them taken back. You want him to know exactly what you mean, especially as you launch yourself towards him, your arms going around his neck, your stomach plump between the two of you. Dieter is grinning so widely his face might crack as he gazes at you on his lap. 

"I'm yours?"

"Yes," you all but growl, pushing him backwards until his broad shoulders hit the seat cushions of the couch and you begin straddling his prone body. His cock is rock hard through his pants, pressing into your core through your panties. 

You tug them to the side, not even bothering to take them off. Dieter is already sliding off his pants and boxers, smiling up at you eagerly. He's pulsing between your thighs, hissing with pleasure as you notch him at your soaked entrance. 

"Not hers," you grunt, sliding down his length with an aching groan escaping both of you. "No one else's. Just mine. You understand me, Bravo?"

You're staking your claim and Dieter is turned on out of his mind. You've never been possessive over him before, never been so commanding. Never been so clear in your desire for him. 

"Yes!"

He wishes he could hold you in his arms, but being laid out flat on his couch while you ride him isn't exactly torture. Your pussy milks his cock, a vice -like grip around his thick length. 

"I'm yours," Dieter repeats, thrusting up into your wet heat. "Just yours, baby."

"You only fuck me," you command, starting to bounce up and down in his lap the best you can with your swollen belly. His expression is pure delight, his wide palm on your hips. 

"Yes."

"Only I make you c-come," you try to sound authoritative but your hips are rolling over his and he feels so good. You're barrelling towards an orgasm with every husky assurance from him. 

"Only you," Dieter assures you, hands tightening around your gyrating hips. "And I only wanna make you come, baby. Only want you in my bed. Only you."

He's rambling and your eyes are cheating to the back of your head. You crest so fast, hands flying to the back of the couch so you can steady yourself. His hands slide up under your shirt and go to your breasts, pinching your pebbled nipples as you keen. 

"C'mon baby," Dieter encourages as he watches your head tilt back. "Take what's yours."

"Mine," you pant as you start to come, head lolling forward. Your body starts to give small little twitches as you groan. "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yours," Dieter breathes, gazing up at you. "Only yours."

He feels you come, soaking his cock with your release. He groans at the sight of your fucked out expression, your hips still undulating. 

"Now you," you command in a soft mewl. "Come for me, Dieter. Give my what's mine."

Your hands go to brace yourself on his chest, your hips lifting only to slide harshly back down, taking him as deep as possible. He feels a pleasurable stripe go up his spine.  

"It's all yours," he offers before his own pleasure overtakes him at the sight of your heavy-lidded expression. He comes deep, deeper than he ever has and he does so whimpering your name. 

You're both panting and you groan slightly as you pull yourself off of him, sitting back against the couch. Dieter rests there a few moments, his softened cock resting against his belly. He's smiling up at the ceiling like a madman. 

Then he's stripping off all his clothes and standing before urging you to do the same. 

"I'm fucking you in the shower," Dieter tells you as he pulls your t-shirt up over your head. "I want you to give me another one."

But you don't just give just him another one because it doesn't end in the shower. Or on the kitchen counter after a midnight snack. But in his bed where he urges you to the end of the bed and fucks you slowly standing next to the mattress, your thighs spread beautifully for him as his cock lazily saws in and out of you.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, urging you to bounce against his hips. Your bodies move together, the pleasure increasing.

“So good,” you croon, your forehead dotted with sweat. “You feel so perfect, Dieter.”

You’re babbling, high on the pleasure of his cock and his nearness. Dieter revels in it, the way you’re unabashedly giving him praise, the way you don’t stop him or shy away from him whispering sweet nothings into your neck.

“And I’m all yours,” he promises. You almost think you can read love in his eyes as they gaze down at you.

 “I’m all yours,” you tell him back without thought.

His thrusts increase, his hands holding you tightly, fingers splayed over your clit. He teases and rubs until you’re on the brink of another orgasm and you finally come in tandem, both of you trembling.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, kissing behind your ear as you shiver.

You don’t tell him you’re not his girl because right now you feel like you could be.

You wake up the next morning in Dieter’s bed with one of his legs wedged in between yours, his arm draped over your middle and his forehead against your neck. It feels right and it feels perfect and as your sleep clears…A mixture of shame and disbelief overtakes your body.

What the fuck was that last night? 

You'd been almost mad with rage at the sight of that TMZ pic. And when he'd come onto the couch you'd just felt this strange possessiveness overtake you. 

Just want you in my bed. Only you. 

Those words were so nice to hear. So gratifying. And you believed him about Mia and the photo. It had been all too easy to move past it, to allow him to lick into your mouth as he fucked you. You glance over your shoulder to see him sleeping, his hair falling into his closed eyes. 

Mine. 

No. Not mine. 

He's not yours. He can't be.

He's Dieter Bravo and you're you. Thinking that somehow you could be together is a delusion.  Dieter just hates being alone. And he knows that being a father is a huge deal. He knows that it's all going to rest on his shoulders and he's looking for a lifeline as your due date grows rapidly closer.  

He doesn't actually have feelings for you.

It's just that Mia might be out of the picture and he's clinging to whatever is in the vicinity - today it happens to be you. Tomorrow it'll be whatever model he's paired with at the next photo shoot. 

You've known him long enough to know his moods and his ever changing interests. In a couple of months when the baby is here and you're in Sacramento he'll probably have forgotten your name. 

The thought hurts if you linger on it. He's just clinging to a lifeline and you can't be around when he does inevitably move onto the next woman because it'll break your heart. 

You need to get the apartment now. You need to find out where you're going to be staying next semester. You need to be planning your life post birth. 

He didn’t even write back to your text yesterday even though it said he’d read it. The one asking if you could stay longer, that you were considering postponing school. And you know why – because this wasn’t the plan. Because Dieter’s interest is waning and you know it.

You pull yourself from the bed, out of Dieter’s warm arms and you try your best not to look back at his still sleeping form as you tiptoe out of the room.  

You return sometime in the afternoon to Dieter storming around the kitchen, looking frantic. He barrels towards you, tugging your hands that you quickly slide out of his grip.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?"

“I had it on silent.”

"Where were you?"

"I was at the library," you say as if it were the most obvious answer. Dieter looks like he’s been fisting his hands through his hair all day.

"You're not supposed-"

"I know I’m not supposed to leave, but I wore sunglasses and no one recognized me." You put your purse down on the ground. "I just needed somewhere quiet to organize my thoughts. I needed to research apartments without distractions."

"Apartments," Dieter repeats slowly. 

"Yeah, for next semester," You say breezily as you push past him and make your way into the kitchen. He follows hot on your heels like a desperate puppy all big eyes and furrowed brows.

"Next semester? I thought you were thinking of postponing?"

He watches you glance around in the fridge before pulling out a bowl of blueberries that Petra has left for you. 

"No point," you say, popping one in your mouth. "I decided I need to get focused and start as soon as possible. That reminds me though; I don't think I can really stay long after the baby is born. I'll want to get to Sacramento as soon as possible."

Dieter looks as if you've punched him. He's gone pale, his large eyes luminous. He's sagging against the counter as if his own body can't support him anymore. 

"What? Why?"

"I told you, I need to focus," you tell him, popping the blueberries back into the fridge. "And I know that I don't get paid until the Bubble is born but I'm wondering if I can get half now? I need to put a down payment on an apartment out there."

"You're buying an apartment in Sacramento?"

"Of course," you say, taking a deep breath. "I'll be in school for a few years; the rest of my Masters then the PhD, then my residency out there. Makes sense." 

"But ... You weren’t even sure about it," Dieter says weakly. 

"That was before I really thought about it," You say, shrugging. "I can't sit around my boss's house all day organizing his next manicure and making sure his latest fuck buddies sign NDA's."

Dieter straightens immediately, his jaw clenching.

Too far.

As soon as you say it you wish you could take it back. It's an ugly, unfair thing to say and you both know it.  But you feel exposed, like a raw nerve.

Dieter feels everything inside him twisting hideously. He was so fucking deluded to think you'd stay, to think you'd fallen for him the same way he has for you. He wants to scream at his idiocy. 

How are you just so okay with this? How can you walk away like the last several months have meant nothing?

Dieter can only stare at you, his eyes going from wide to narrowed. His hand curls into a loose fist at his side, the other still braced on the counter. 

“There's a contract," Dieter all but growls. "You get your money once the baby is born."

"I know,” you say quickly. “It's just that the tuition is due this month to hold my spot for next semester."

"That's not my problem."

You take a step back, brows knitted. You weren’t expecting that. 

“But-“

"You signed a contract stipulating that you wouldn't get the money until the baby is born," Dieter croaks. "So there's your answer."

He turns from you, heading down the hallway to his art studio. You follow close behind, waddling quickly to keep up. 

"Dieter I can't afford the place without that money."

"Read the contract," he snaps. "You signed it."

He quickly moves into the studio, slamming the door behind him.

He hears you on the other side of the door, breathing heavily. He’s worried you’re crying.

Finally he hears you shuffle away and he moves to the window, sitting in the chair he reserved for you when you return home with your son. He imagined painting both of you, the light bathing you both in a dreamy glow.

Dieter is devastated, his head resting heavily in his hands as he fights back the urge to sob.  

What the fuck happened? One minute you were insisting he was yours, your bodies working together beautifully. The next second you're telling him you're halfway out the door. 

You don’t want to be a mother. You never did. You always made that perfectly clear. He was just too besotted to understand.  He looks around his art room, feeling a fury building within him. What the fuck has this all been for? Why the fuck is he so fucking stupid? Why did he have to go and fall in love with you? 

He needs drugs. He needs alcohol. He needs something to take this stabbing pain away. And just as his trembling hand goes to his phone to call up Corey Brigham he glances up at the painting he's been currently working on. 

It's an oil painting image from a dream he had recently. One where he stands in the ocean up to his knees, the wind gentle and the day mild. Dieter is holding you back against him, his head over your shoulder, both of you gazing down at the tiny infant in your arms. 

And there's his son, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. The image of what Dieter things he’ll look like.

My son. 

The cell phone is pushed back into his pocket. He's not living just for himself anymore. He's got a son he will put before himself in all ways. His son will not grow up with an absent father like Dieter did. 

All of a sudden his studio door bursts open. You look harried as you stride in, fixing him with a glare. He knows you want to tell him off and he wishes you didn't look so beautiful when you’re angry. 

"You're not supposed to be in here," Dieter insists, feeling a stab of anxiety go through him as you walk towards him. He leaps up from the chair, almost tripping over himself in his desire to usher you out of the room.

“We were in the middle of a conversation,” you snap. “You can’t just-“

Your cutting remarks die before they can be completely formed because as you glance around the room your eyes widen in shock. 

Dieter’s art room has always been a mix of canvas, paint spills, old coffee cups and grotesque sculptures. But right now all of the painted canvases are positioned around the room, sketches lining the drafting table under the window.

And they are all of you.

Ones of you with your belly swollen, sleeping on the couch. Others of you cross legged at the table hunched over your laptop. There's one of you with your face serene as you lay the bathtub, that night Dieter and you talked for hours. Snapshots of time, your belly at different stages. 

"Are these..." You go over to a stack of sketches. “Are these all me?”

Dieter is silent, his eyes drifting to your face when you take in the portrait he did of the three of you. Your hand goes to your belly instinctively as you take in the image.

“I always imagined he’d look like that,” you say with a soft little huff.

Your eyes go to the drafting table, sketches in charcoal sticking out to you. Some are dated as far back as Ireland, some even before that. Your fingers linger on one in particular of you chewing your bottom lip in thought, a pencil raised between your fingers. You glance at the date. 

“This was before I was pregnant.” You trail off, gaze moving back to his face. "How long have you been sketching me?"

Dieter shrugs and for the first time since you've known him he looks truly embarrassed. 

"A while." 

You move slowly towards him. "Why?"

He sighs, only steps away from you now.

"Isn't it obvious?" 

You swallow, feeling your heart pound a devastating rhythm. No, this can’t be real. He can’t be suggesting what you think he is.  And yet as he stands there, dark eyes wet you can’t help but wish for it to be real.

“I'm crazy about you,” Dieter confesses.

No, not confesses. That would suggest he wanted to keep it hidden, when it’s anything but.

“I just want to be with you all the time. I want to share everything with you. My life, my home, my everything. I want you here in this house with our son. I want to support you going back to school. I want to make you happy in any way I can but I want you to do it as mine.”

You want to say something, to say anything to this grand romantic speech, but your throat has tightened and your mouth gone dry. All you can do is stand there, staring at him like a pregnant idiot.

“And I know that’s selfish to say and I know it’s useless because you don’t love me back but I-I just needed you to know before you left,” Dieter continues, tears wetting the side of his cheek.

“You don’t need to love me back. Our son is a piece of you and if that’s all I can have of your love, that’s enough for me. He’s more than enough. I just. . . I needed you to know the truth, all of it. I fell for you way before you got pregnant, but after this time together I just, I’m...I love you.”

And now his tears are brushed away by the back of his hand and he looks as if he’s going to turn away from you, overcome with everything that he’s just admitted.

You can barely see through the tears in your eyes. All the feelings that have been swirling within you compel you to pitch forward, your hands outstretched, his name on your lips.

You’re about to cross the room, desperate for his touch when a stab of pain goes through you sharply, causing you to almost come to your knees.  You begin doubling over with a cry as Dieter runs to close the distance between you, his hand immediately on your back.

“What is it, baby?”

Dieter is confused when he sees an overwhelming amount of clear liquid running down your legs. Your eyes are round, wide and terrified when you look up to him.

"Dieter, I think I'm going into labor." 

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#dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal characters

[nico-di-genova]

Late Night Talks - Strollonso

Written for the prompt: [Lance and Fernando] dead-tired in bed, curled up to each other and they keep making dumb jokes and laughing at them

Warnings: NSFW, not super explicit, but mentioned.

@raapija hopefully this is sort of what you were looking for, I started with answering your prompt and then it just sort of got away from me.

Post Singapore is quickly becoming Lance’s least favorite post-race kind of feel, second only to Qatar which exists in a league of its own. He doesn’t do well in the heat, his body acclimated to colder climates and snow that comes up to his knees. Miami is about the closest he’ll come to acceptable humidity, and only when he can couple it with the lukewarm temperature of the ocean and the salty spray that comes from zipping through the waves on the back of a boat’s tow. But Singapore is the sort of wet heat that clings to you until you can’t breathe around it, it makes driving a car for two hours in on-the-limit conditions near impossible.

“I feel disgusting,” he complains to Fernando, drying the back of his wet hair with a hotel towel and grimacing. He still feels like he has sweat clogging his pores, embedded in his hair follicles, couldn’t seem to get himself clean no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin.

Fernando, who had taken a shower in his own room because if they had shared it wouldn’t have resulted in attempting to get clean at all, wears a matching expression of discomfort. He’s sprawled across Lance’s bed, in nothing but his boxers and normally that would inspire something in Lance. But sex, especially with Fernando, is a sweaty endeavor and he would like to avoid adding to his already uncomfortable state.

Doesn’t stop him from getting hard anyway, noticeably tenting the towel low on his hips.

Fernando arches an eyebrow, peaks down at Lance through heavy-lidded eyes.

“No, ignore that.”

“Hard to ignore,” Fernando quips, but he’s just as exhausted as Lance and it shows when he doesn’t make an effort to sit up and pull Lance closer. Instead he closes his eyes and readjusts his arm where it’s resting under his head, lets out a sigh that Lance knows is a prelude to quiet snores.

“Don’t fall asleep there,” he complains, shucking off the towel long enough to slide on his own underwear, “You’re taking up the whole bed, asshole.”

He still needs to brush his teeth, probably make an attempt at skincare before the grime of the day sets in and breakouts quickly follow. But standing is beginning to take a lot of effort. It’s like he can feel the weight of the heat bearing down on his shoulders, even though they’re inside, can still feel it pressing on his chest. It’s a good thing they have a late flight tomorrow because Lance’s future plans include nothing more but sleeping until the bone deep exhaustion makes its way out of him.

Fernando hasn’t moved, still lays with his knees hanging off the bed, one arm flung out beside him, legs spread just as wide, like he’s intentionally trying to take up as much space as possible. He nudges Fernando’s knee with his own and it’s the only warning the man gets before Lance is collapsing down beside him, the full weight of him landing on Fernando’s outstretched arm and half on top of his body. They’re laying sideways on the bed, and Lance is too tall for this, immediately finds it uncomfortable. But Fernando smells nice, and he’s warm where Lance presses up against him, so he allows it for the time being. Even if Fernando’s arm is bony and uncomfortable where it’s digging into Lance’s side.

“You are still wet,” Fernando grumbles, still with his eyes closed, still half-asleep, “Off.”

“It’s my bed, old man,”

They share a hotel room most nights now, the separate bookings nothing more than a charade, but they are still technically in Lance’s room. Ignoring Fernando’s griping, he presses closer, throws a leg over the man’s body, finds the crook of Fernando’s neck and nuzzles his nose there, lets his wet hair brush against Fernando’s cheek, until Fernando is wriggling away in discomfort. Annoyance is not a tactic he employs frequently, nor is it one that typically works on Fernando, but it works tonight.

“Like a soggy cat,” Fernando chastises, and then sits up, taking his comforting scent and presence with him.

Lance smiles, satisfied, shifts until he’s right way up on the bed and can let his damp hair soak into the pillows. Fernando lets him get comfortable and then he lays back down, this time with his head resting on Lance’s chest, an area devoid of the moisture from the shower. His breathing evens out pretty quickly, tells Lance he’s quickly drifting back toward unconsciousness. One of his hands splays across Lance’s bare stomach, low enough that his fingers brush along the hair there.

And now it’s his turn to be annoying, because Fernando knows he’s sensitive, uses it to his advantage when he lets his pinkie inch down further.

“This is a dangerous game,” he warns, feels himself grow harder in his underwear.

He can feel when Fernando smiles against him, prickly beard rubbing against the raw skin of his chest with the curl of his lips, “You don’t want to play?”

“Too tired. It would be pretty boring, anyway. I don’t wanna move,” Lance lying flat on his back, Fernando half asleep, both of them pawing at each other’s dicks with flagging interest until the exhaustion won out and the draining adrenaline finally took the last bit of energy they had left. He doubts he could even cum, as tired as he is. And if he did he’d have to trudge back to the shower because no way is he waking up in the morning with cum dried tacky on his stomach alongside the inevitable sweat from being pressed next to Fernando, the human furnace, during the night.

Fernando laughs, quiet, rumbling, “You are a pillow princess anyway.”

“Hey.”

“Is true.”

“It is n-“ he thinks of last night, how Fernando had tried to goad Lance into riding him and he’d made himself more at home on his back. He liked looking up at Fernando, liked burying his head in the crook of his neck and scratching desperately at his back. All things that were pretty hard to do if he was sitting in the air having to dictate the rhythm himself. Lance wasn’t lazy, he just knew what he liked, so sue him.

Fernando knows he’s won when Lance changes the subject. “How do you even know that word?” he’s absentmindedly threading his fingers through Fernando’s hair, the strands mostly dry where Lance’s was still soaking into the pillow. His hair is soft, always well-maintained, soothes something inside Lance because the texture is familiar.

Fernando hums, pleased. Lance tries not to preen at the sound. Pillow princess his ass, he likes to make Fernando feel good too. He can put in the work. If the work is done easily on the comfort of his back.

“I am only forty-two, Lance. Not so old I do not know things.”

“One foot in the grave practically.”

Fernando scoffs, pinches Lance’s stomach in retaliation, “Yes. We go shopping for my headstone tomorrow, pick out flowers.”

Age used to be a thing between them. Back when this started a year ago. When Lance was twenty-four and Fernando still looked at him like he was seeing that kid standing in the Ferrari garage. It had been a thing approximately until the moment Lance took matters into his own hands, took Fernando’s cock in his mouth with practiced ease and any internalized war Fernando was fighting went right out the window. And then it had resurfaced with force the first time Fernando fucked him so hard he was sobbing into the sheets, the sex quickly aborted when Fernando got scared he’d done something wrong, no matter how many times Lance tried to promise it was only that he’d been doing everything right. So they’d had to have a serious discussion, establish boundaries, ensure Lance was in the right headspace to be in a relationship with a man he’d known since he was nine. Now they could joke about it, had put in the work so that the gap in their ages no longer mattered.

“A suit too?” Lance teases, accompanying the press of his words with the pads of his fingers against the base of Fernando’s skull, a pressure he knows helps because of all the times Fernando has done it for him.

Fernando laughs again, more gravely, barely there, “We are planning a funeral or a wedding?”

Lance thinks, stares up at the ceiling and tries to think of a reply that won’t leave him sounding strangled. Wedding. He is startled to find he likes that word, likes it coming from Fernando’s mouth with the concept of Fernando being the person waiting for him at the altar.

“Both. Two birds with one stone,” and then the image of a funeral wedding, both of them standing in a half-dug grave, an arch being replaced with a gravestone, becomes suddenly so funny he can’t stop giggling at the thought of it. “We could leave the reception in a hearse.”

It maybe speaks to his level of exhaustion that he can’t seem to stop laughing at the nonsensical turn in the conversation.

Fernando is still smiling, Lance can still feel it, “You are weird.” He says, and Lance can hear the alternate meaning in the statement, how fond it sounds.

“Been called worse,” Lance jokes, makes sure it stays that, because they both know there’s an element of truth to it. “You almost podium and you are talking about funeral weddings. Strange.”

Oh, yeah, P4. Singapore maybe had taken so much out of him because he’d pushed himself to nearly P3 with nothing but pure spite to fuel him. .3 of a second back from Sergio, chasing the unfamiliar sight of a Red Bull to the finish. He’d felt the desperate need to make up for last year, shut up a certain faction of people that couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths. It wasn’t a podium though, only nearly one, so he still wasn’t particularly satisfied. Fernando had carried most of the excitement for him, praising him in post-race interviews and hugging him as soon as they climbed out of their cars. Lance had already seen pictures of the moment caught from his still active onboard, Fernando’s hand drifting to its natural place at his waist, the other on the back of his helmet. There was of course no sound, so no one had heard the praise Fernando showered him with before they went to be weighed.

‘So proud, cariño. So proud.’

“Almost a podium, Nano. It was P4,” Lance says now, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, slinking down further into the pillows. Fernando shuffles with the movement, until he’s beside Lance and then they’re both on their sides, parallel to each other. Fernando’s arm wraps around his waist, pulls him closer.

Lance studies the wrinkles forming at the corners of Fernando’s eyes, reaches out to trail the pad of his thumb along them. It is probably one of his favorite features, the mark of years’ worth of laughter. Lance likes to think of Fernando happy, likes when he can make Fernando smile enough that the lines deepen. He doesn’t like when Fernando presses his lips together as he’s doing now, a thin line of dissatisfaction.

“Still a good result.”

Lance concedes, “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” Could have been better, would have been if he’d been able to manage his tires better on the entry to turn seven like his engineer had requested.

He yawns again, curls closer to Fernando so now he’s the one with his head tucked under Fernando’s chin. If they were still outside, still in their cars, the warmth rolling off Fernando would be unbearable. But the temperature of the hotel has been set to freezing, so his body is beginning to return to a stable level of self-regulation.

“Next time you will get around Perez.”

“He’s in a rocket ship, man. You want me to teleport to P3?” He mumbles against Fernando’s neck, eyes drifting shut, weight of his body sinking further into the mattress.

“Lawrence can hire people. Make that possible. He would invent this for you, I think.”

They both laugh, and then Fernando is rambling something about holding Sergio back next race, letting Lance take P3, and then P2 and then, impossibly, they both know, P1. It’s half in French, half in the bits of Spanish Lance is picking up but is too tired to follow, and then it trails off into nothing because Fernando finally lets the exhaustion win. Lance follows behind not long after.

When they wake in the morning it is to the ringing of Fernando’s phone, to the frantic texts buzzing through on Lance’s. They missed their flight, which means the morning sex isn’t rushed. It means that Lance gets to lay on his back, lazy and selfish, while Fernando teases him but continues to thrust with measured accuracy above him. He lets Fernando mark the skin at the nape of his neck as compensation for doing all the work, lets him suck at the soft skin there until Lance is sure the hickey will take a while to fade.

And maybe Singapore isn’t that bad after all. Despite the heat. Lance thinks he could justify the humidity like he does for Miami, if P4, senseless late night talks, and Fernando’s smile when Lance pants his name are the reward for enduring the climate. It all feels worth it in the end.

#strollonso #strollonso fic #my fic #I once again ask #is this even anything? #at this point I think I write about them just to senselessly ramble #idk if this is even good tbh

[sandradoodles]

Part 18. It’s TOP SECRET, you guys.

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#miraculous ladybug #marichat #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #lovesquare #confessions comic #sandra draws #'I'm probably way off base but' #it took him a week to figure it out #and he's still shocked #have I mentioned that these two are my favorite when they are as dumb as possible #panel five in my script is literally CN: (indescribable expression) #which apparently meant as anime as possible

[eustasskidagenda]

Okay, this post is not based on a request. I kept thinking about it for hours and finally decided to write it down: how the OP characters would text their s/o. So here are some texting headcanons for some of my favorite characters: Eustass Kid, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Sabo. I'll probably write a part 2 with my other beloved characters: Luffy, Marco, Killer, and Robin. :D

☆Texting HCs for Kid, Law, Sanji, Zoro & Sabo

CW : g/n reader, MDNI, Kid is cursing, fluff, funny, partly nsfw, mention of alcohol for Zoro 

WC : 2k

Kid

Your name/photo in his contacts: mine. With a photo of your ass, obviously. And when he's mad at you, he renames you mid(ge).

Such a brat.

His wallpaper: a cool photo of his motorbike (I'm sorry but Kid is that kind of man in love with his own bike/car. But it's okay, he's still my favorite.) Or, a pic of your ass.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: your ass, random photos of your face when he’s teasing you, his bike, and some punk stuff (music, makeup, outfit etc.)

His fav emoji : none.

He likes to send really, really shorts messages. Like : 

"Hi" "u know" "i have an idea" "So listen:"

Goddam Kid, just write the WHOLE sentence in one message.

He's sending you random pictures of his torso, just to flex with his big tiddies.

And you have to respond with a heart emoji and praise him each time.

If you want, he's more than willing to send dick pick too. 

Again, you have to praise him. Even if the pictures are absolutely non-aesthetic. He's blessing you with his cock after all. 

"Babe, you don't know how to take beautiful pics of your dick." "WTF SHUT UP???????? It's MY dick???!!! OF COURSE IT'S BEAUTIFUL??!!!" 

Yeah, Kid is clearly using extra punctuation. 

Oh, sure, each morning, you receive a mirror selfie of his outfit of the day. Such a punk fashion icon. "Rate my outfit on a scale of amazing to amazing" 

He doesn't use emojis because they sound too soft and stupid. "em0teS aRe f0r s0fT b0ys Y/N"

If you complain about his messages looking cold, he might use random emotes to annoy you like "UgH iF U wAnt 🦬" (with that stupid dumb sponge bob meme)

Whenever he calls you, it seems like he's yelling through the phone. 

He likes using caps lock like "HEY Y/N, WANNA FUCK TONIGHT??????" 

He's sending you random punk/rock music. And you have to listen and react to every single music, otherwise he's so pissed off. He is sharing his world with you, the less you can do is interact with him. 

He also loves sending some pics of what he's working on, because Kid likes to repare/custom some cars or motorbike. 

And last thing, I like the idea of Kid Pirates being a punk music band, so sure, Kid loves to send you some videos of him playing guitar. "My fingers are skilled in three things : music, crafting and fingering you all the fucking day long"

His phone is so damaged because he throws it every time he gets angry (like every two minutes).

Law

Your name/photo in his contacts: y/n-ya. With a cursed picture of you. Just to tease you with it. 

His wallpaper: nothing, just the random by default home screen. In his view, wallpapers are useless and pointless.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: random pictures you took of him, emo memes, and boring stuff about medicine or basic hygiene rules for Luffy. And a guide to "how to stop screaming and how to control your anger: a guide for children" for Kid. 

His favorite emoji: 🖕🏻

Whenever you annoy him with a stupid joke or a prank you saw on TikTok, his immediate reaction is to block you. He's so annoyed, please, leave him alone. He is immediately aware that it is a prank. Luffy always does the same to him before you do.

He's never using capital, it's for the emo aesthetic, like 'I hate bread'. Nope. But ✨"i hate bread."✨, yeah, much better

And yes, he uses "." everytime, it's for the dark and tired emo aesthetic. 

He always leaves a group conversation as soon as you include him. Please, he's so pissed off by those kinds of things. 

He's able to leave your message seen for days. Just because he was busy and forgot about what you said. If you need an answer, sure, try to call him. He always keeps his phone in silent mode. 

He likes to send you cool articles that he reads. Especially about medicine, tattoos or nerd stuff like movies, books, games etc.

"wanna go to a date tattoo with me tomorrow?" 

That kind of question is clearly his love language

He enjoys teasing you with random photos of his tattooed fingers or chest. "I bet you miss these fingers." And yeah, he's clearing curling his fingers on the pic like he would do when they are inside you. He's really good at teasing you with photos. 

Kid and Luffy steal his phone whenever he's with them. So be ready to receive a lot of ugly pictures of Law (taken by the chaotic duo), middle fingers from Kid, and blurry meat pictures from Luffy. 

Poor Law deserves a break.

Sanji 

Your name/photos in his contacts : 💗💘🛐Mon Amour (my love)🛐💘💗 With the most beautiful picture of you. 

His wallpaper : a cute couple photo.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery : a lot of cooking videos or photos, you, aesthetic pic of the sky and a private album with some hot nudes that you sent to him.

His favorites emojis : 💘💗💖🛐💍🧎🌺🌸🌹🫦🥰😘🧑🏻‍🍳🍽🍷🥘 (yeah, Sanji LOVES emojis)

He's always texting you back. If he can't reply within a second, he won't open the text. Sanji, leaving his beautiful s/o with that awful "seen"? Never. 

All the mornings "good morning sweetheart 💘" and all the evenings "sleep well sweetheart, dream about me 💖"

He wants to take a cute and aesthetic pic of the both of you all the days. 

He bombards you with pictures of his cooking. It's cute, but also annoying because he can't help but send extra long texts. He describes every single action he did, along with recipes and tips. 

He enjoys seeing your outfit of the day. He can attempt to match his clothes to yours. 

Random "I love you 💖" and "if no one told you you were pretty today : you're the prettiest 🥰" 

He enjoys sending you cooking videos. "We should eat this tonight. What do you think? 🧑🏻‍🍳"

He's pretty good at sexting. He knows how to take aesthetic photo of his hands, back, or mouth. Not just an ugly dick pick (Kid, Zoro, I'm looking at you). And he also likes to leave you some message like.

I would sit you down on this table if you were with me right now. You know, the one in your kitchen where he had dinner with your parents yesterday? I would gently kiss your neck, fondle your chest, and slowly kneel between your legs until you shout my name. You would pull on my hair, begging me to keep going until you cum repeatedly on my face.  👅 "

And if you send him a nude, well, he's going to die from a nosebleed.

Rest in peace, Sanji. 

Zoro

Your name/photos in his contacts : "y/n". You pick a picture for him because Zoro and phones are not compatible.

His wallpaper : a cool katana

What kind of pictures in his gallery : gym selfies, katanas and alcohol (all with ugly quality)

His fav emojis : 👍🏻 and 😴 Like:

"hey Zoro, you're alright" 👍🏻

"Zoro, wanna hang out?" 😴

"Babe, what are you doing?" 😴

"… am i annoying you?" 👍🏻

He can responds to absolutely anything with those two emojis. 

Zero is so oblivious, so let's be honest: he is not good at using phones. Almost every day, he forgets his phone at home. And even if he didn't forget about it, it's probably on silent mode or just off.

He doesn’t know how to use the keyboard, so prepare yourself for coded-message like "o!. @= sp⛑t t🧹day???/!df🆎e !!"He can't even use the excuse "my cat walked on my keyboard", he just sucks with technology.

Your messages are often "seen ✔️" and that's all. Not because he wants to be mean, just... he didn't understand the concept of answering every text. He takes all of your messages as random information. Like "Hey, I'd love to see you tonight!". Well. OK. Message understood. That's all.

The only application he has on his phone is Google Maps. Even with it, he still gets lost. "Turn left." Without a doubt, he turns right. 

Once, he tried to please you with a dick pic. But the photo was just terrible: bad luminosity, an ugly close-up of his cock, blurred as fuck, and you can see the dirty tissue behind him.

He doesn't answer when you call him because he's either asleep or at the gym (or drunk).

Once, he also tried to send you a voice message, but it was just the sound of the wind. He forgot to talk closer to the microphone.

Sabo 

Your name/photos in his contacts : "my revolutionary 🎩💛". With a beautiful pic of your smiling face. 

His wallpaper : a symbol of revolution. 

What kind of pictures in his gallery : petition screenshots, his brothers, you, anti-capitalist memes and a private album with some hot pic of you (naughty Sabo)

His fav emojis : 🔥✨🖕🏻💛✊🏻😡😏😎🤩👉🏻👌🏻🫵🏻

Sabo is... complicate. Sometimes, he doesn't answer for WEEKS. And sometimes he's extra chatty. And when he's chatty well...

Sabo is always spamming you with petition links. "Save the dolphins", "save the monkeys", "fuck capitalism", "for the resignation of *insert random politician name*" 

"Hey sweetheart, manifestation tomorrow. See you there!! 🫵🏻" 

When it's not petitions, it's probably videos or articles. Sabo is a pure revolutionary. Be prepared to receive lengthy texts when he wants to fight for a cause. It's cute, honestly. He's really involved and passionate. 

"You, me, on a trip tomorrow?! 😏"

Sabo has a knack for surprising you with trips, so prepare yourself. This man craves adventure and surprises. He wants you to join his crazy journey. 

Sometimes, he's using proper grammar and punctuation, sometimes he's using a lot of !!!!!!!!??????? And caps lock. Especially when he's furious about something.  He makes a lot of typo errors because he's always in a rush while typing.

Let's fught  *figrt *fijkt *FUCK *LET'S FIGHT (and fuck)

He enjoys taking pictures of you unexpectedly because it makes you seem more natural. 

"So… sweetheart… we have a new roommate" with a cute pic of a dog/frog/duck/snail/whatever. Sabo has a kind heart. If he sees a wounded or abandoned animal, he feels obliged to adopt it.

And regarding spicy texts… 

Sabo is a kinky boy. So sure, he's thirsty when it comes to sexting/nudes. As a revolutionary, he is also very careful. He always asks you first before sending you nude or spicy texts. If you're willing, then prepare yourself.

A bunch of nudes. Since he's good with them, he won't display his dick in a weird and unattractive angle to you. He enjoys showing you his hands when he's wearing his gloves. Or a mirror photo of his back.

"I know you will scratch it when I'll fuck you tonight 😏"

You're not forced to send him nude or spicy texts back. He respects your boundaries without exception. And if you send him a photo anyway, he's also really nice. Always a comment like "your ass is soooooo good with this angle. I can't believe I'm that lucky 🥵" and if he wants to save a photo for his collection, he's always asking if it's okay with you.

"Sweetie, i have a new toy for you… 💛"

We all know what he's talking about. Naughty Sabo.

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece requests #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji x you #sanji headcanons #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #law headcanons #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece smut #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #zoro x you #sabo the revolutionary #sabo x you #sabo x reader #sabo x y/n #sabo one piece #trafalgar law

[s-4pphics]

click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes 

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?” 

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest. 

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder. 

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek. 

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie. 

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.” 

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought. 

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?” 

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.” 

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed. 

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person. 

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you. 

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers. 

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming… 

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.” 

Oh God. “What?” 

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.  

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!” 

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick. 

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.” 

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.” 

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom. 

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization. 

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one. 

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl. 

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work. 

DENY REQUEST. 

…

DENY REQUEST. 

…

DENY REQUEST. 

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed. 

Why are people… so odd? 

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?! 

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one. 

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty. 

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away. 

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name. 

ELLIE WILLIAMS. 

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement. 

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval. 

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you. 

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it. 

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note. 

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.” 

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend. 

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.” 

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out. 

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.” 

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.” 

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.” 

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.” 

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face. 

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.” 

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”  

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup. 

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.” 

“The wettest. Go.” 

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers. 

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear. 

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely. 

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected. 

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.” 

“Alright.” 

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads. 

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?” 

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.” 

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward. 

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.” 

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder. 

“What’d I say!” 

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Oh yeah what.” 

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?” 

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles. 

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish. 

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper. 

… Cute. 

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here. 

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable. 

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking. 

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil. 

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention. 

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before. 

“Hey. Can we switch the time?” 

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare. 

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?” 

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?” 

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.” 

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?” 

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.” 

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge. 

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.” 

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you. 

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.” 

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them. 

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.” 

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face. 

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly. 

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.” 

“Sike.” 

You scoff in disbelief, “What?” 

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.” 

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.” 

“Right.” 

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.” 

“Hm?” 

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat. 

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.” 

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee. 

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself. 

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie. 

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word. 

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant. 

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn. 

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”��

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.” 

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs. 

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.” 

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.” 

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.” 

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.” 

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?” 

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff. 

“Damn… My fault.” 

“I’m chilling. I just need head.” 

“Go out! Find somebody!” 

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!” 

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.” 

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone. 

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.” 

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment. 

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged. 

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night. 

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it. 

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes. 

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be. 

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure. 

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely. 

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing. 

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you. 

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open. 

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly. 

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious. 

“To move in.” 

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen. 

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that? 

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?” 

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.” 

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.” 

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder. 

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.” 

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit. 

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case. 

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #black!oc #black!reader #ellie williams tlou #works 𖧧࣪ #click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧

[selfishdoll]

❛ I WANNA SEE...❜

Quit talkin' 'bout it, be about it | Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ LEMME SEE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

butt-dialing your roommate while pleasing yourself (and moaning his name) went in a completely different direction than you thought it would.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

accidental voyuerism, reader is a little dumb (love her though) black reader, they are both 20-22, roommates to lovers, mutual masturbation, praise & teasing, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, etc.), oral sex(fem receiving), manhandling, dumbification, choso has been pining for a while he was just waiting on you, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, hand on throat (not choking it’s just there), porn mention, etc. if i left something out please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

choso has been plaguing my brain just like bi-han is. also this idea came up randomly. lowkey rushed at the end. i hope you enjoy and as always; this fic is unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to Kamo Choso. It was all physical, at first; eyes trailing down his body the day you met him— enjoying just about everything your gaze set on. He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way, eyes lined with bags as if he hadn’t slept in years; however built as if he never left the gym. How he handled both was beyond you.

But of course, the attraction didn’t end there, it grew when you got to know him— and when you moved in with him. After being rushed out of your previous apartment by your shitty landlord, Choso was more than happy to give you the extra bedroom in his home; declaring you didn’t need to pay rent for about two months just to get your bearings. From then on, anytime you saw Choso, or if anyone mentioned him; you were flushed with heat, a disgusting amount of butterflies settling in your stomach.

You were whipped and there was nothing you could do. Given you refused to jeopardize the friendship you two had.

Today was your off day after a hellish week. You planned to spend it in bed, cuddled under Halloween themed blankets. Your eyes peered up at the television hanging aganist your wall, enjoying some random video of your favorite youtuber. You blinked as a gentle knock came on your door, slowly sitting up as an enter escaped you shortly after. The door opened, revealing Choso dressed in a baggy black tshirt and some sweats. His keys were in his hands, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m going out for a bit, do you need anything?”

You smiled, tilting your head in thought. “Mm.. no.” You spoke, watching him raise his eyebrows for a moment, giving an are you sure look. You chuckled, nodding once more to which he hummed a bit.

“Don’t call me later because you forgot somethin’.”

“That’s only happened once, Choso!” You huffed, watching as he turned, exiting your bedroom. And soon the house. You sighed a bit, sliding down your headboard to rest on your back, glancing up at the ceiling. Despite him not being in the room your still felt insanely warm, hands rising to your cheeks to groan into them. Why was he so fine and so sweet all at the same time? It frustrated you to no end.

You rolled onto your side, legs crossing as you pushed your face into your pillows. Hands gliding down from your face, you felt the warmth grow; trickling down between your thighs. Sighing softly to yourself, you switched to lay on your back again, blindly reaching for your phone. Like clockwork you clicked onto the dreaded X app, using two hands to type in a genre before one slinked back under your blankets.

You scrolled for a moment, fingers breaching your panties and simply rolling lazy circles onto your clit. The tiny sparks of pleasure slowly relied you up, searching endlessly for a video, getting more annoyed by the second. Moments passed before you sighed heavily, dropping your phone onto the bed whilst kicking off your blankets.

Your imagination would have to do. And what did it always drift off too? Kamo Choso.

Panties now bunched to your ankles, two fingers glided across your slick slit, collecting your essence until you were nice and moist; all while your other hand continued to roll circles onto your hardened buds. Dipping your fingers down, a soft sigh escaped you as you pushed them in, not reaching as deep as you liked but close enough. Once comfortable you began to thrust them in and out of you, curling them every so often— causing sweet moans to escape you.

You thought of him. Thought of yourself under him, using his fingers that were surely much bigger then your own. Stretching you out in preparation, all while he whispered words into your ear. You bit the inside of your cheek, the intensity of your fingers quickening, hips rising up off the bed as vocal noises escaped you. You moved on the bed, rolling a bit before situating yourself onto your back again. Gasps escaped you, desperate moans as you chased after your release. Choso consumed your mind, fantasies pushed forth as if seeing them right before you. His body, his voice, his hair tickling your heated skin— it was all too much. You needed him so much.

“Fuck, Choso..” Was the high-pitched whimper that escaped you, hand tiring yet refusing to stop, you were so close. You rubbed your clit raw, fingers pushing against your gummy walls before you finally came, a final moan escaping you. You breathed heavily, falling back against the bed as you slowly withdrew your fingers, groaning a bit. It took a moment to calm yourself down, rolling onto your side and attempting to ignore your mess for now. Just a moment, you would clean yourself up.

That was until your eyes zoned in on your phone, realizing it was on. With a blink you sat up, feeling your heart fall straight to your ass. There, clear as day, was Choso’s contact name. You were currently on a call with him. One you hadn’t nor realized you accepted.

The silence was eerie, a shaky hand rising to hover above the screen. Like an idiot you spoke, “Choso?..”

And much to your horror you got a breathy, “Yeah?” back. You screamed internally, hurriedly cutting the call and falling into your bed. Obscenities escaped you into your pillow, eyes pinched close as embarrassment ran through your body. Of course you would butt-dial him, of course you would moan his name, and of course you would say his name again instead of simply ending the call! So stupid, so stupid! You could die right then and there.

There was only one solution to this problem; avoid him for a month until he pushes it to the back of his mind. It sounded ridiculous, but that was the only way. So, you stood, grabbing your towel from its hanging place and paddling over to the bathroom. You would shower, grab some water and snacks — so you wouldn’t have to leave you room —, and lock your door. Choso isn’t the type to barge in, but you couldn’t chance it.

You made quick work of bathing yourself, hissing at the burning sensitivity between your legs. Once finished you pat yourself dry, sliding some lotion on yourself soon after and pulling on some shorts and a shirt after your panties. Opening your bedroom door you glanced around suspiciously, waltzing over to the kitchen and snatching up two water bottles and a couple of your snacks. Holding them between your arms while walking back to your bedroom, you felt your stomach drop the moment the front door opened. You rushed the final steps to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. You breathed as you heard heavy footsteps around the house, stepping over to your bed and placing your snacks and drinks on the nightstand. You jumped as a knock came on your door, quickly going quiet.

All was still until he spoke, “Got you some food. It’ll be behind the door.”

You nearly felt bad for ignoring him, wondering if he bought it before or after you completely defiled his ears. Biting your lip, you waited until you heard his bedroom door close, waltzing over and carefully unlocking your own. Pulling it open, you glanced down at the styrofoam container, smiling a little to yourself. Leaning to pick it up, you released a small thank you, before quickly shutting and locking the door.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you walked over to your bed, sitting down and placing the food down. Dwelling over your mistake would only ruin your appetite, you decided to distract yourself with horror movies.

After eating the food and enjoying the third scream movie, you took a nap, curled up under your blankets comfortably. An hour or so passed before you woke up, blinking slowly and glancing around the room; the only light being the television. A soft yawn escaped you, slowly sitting up and glancing at your mess. You grimaced, picking up your empty water bottle, wrapper, and food container— switching around to stand and walk over to your door. Unlocking it, you opened and exited your bedroom, sliding over to the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the trash can and placing your trash inside. Walking over to the sink, you squirted a little soap in your hands, washing them for a good few minutes before cutting the water off, shaking your hands to dry. Turning to head back to your bedroom, a yell escaped you when you noticed the man standing in the doorway.

Choso smiled a little, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed his arms, your eyes instinctively falling to them before rising back to his face. You shook your head quickly, nervously adjusting your shirt onto your body. “It’s okay.. No problem.” You cringed internally at your own voice, eyes closed and suppressing a groan.

An awkward silence carried in the room for a moment before you finally decided to rip the bandaid. You glanced up, meeting his gaze that was already fixated onto you. “Choso, I’m.. really sorry I called you and you.. heard me.” You murmured, fingers continuing to fiddle with themselves.

“I called you.” He corrected, you giving a nervous smile and a nod.

“Right, but still. I understand if you’re uncomfortable and our dynamic changes for a little bit. I.. hope you can forgive me.”

Choso tilted his head for a moment, finger tapping against his arm as a small smile painted his features. He entered the kitchen fully, coming to stand before you. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He hummed softly, eyes tracing your face for a moment before his smile deepened. “I’ll forgive you.. if you show me what you were doing to yourself.”

You blinked as his words settled into your mind, eyes slowly going wide. He had to be joking, right? Gaze boring into his own and looking for any hint of amusement or mischief. Unfortunately, you could tell that Kamo Choso was dead serious. Waiting ever so patiently for your reply. Yet, you still asked.

“You’re being.. serious?” You licked your suddenly dry lips, a cold feeling running down your body the moment he nodded. Eyes never moving away from you. Heart thrumming against your chest, a soft okay escaping you after a moment. Gripping your shirt you watched as Choso stepped to the side to allow you to leave, following close behind as the two of you exited the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the heat rising, ears burning as you felt his heavy gaze upon your form. Entering your bedroom, you flipped the light on, approaching your bed. You hesitated, giving the man enough time to approach you, gently cradling your back. “You can back out, (Y/N). I refuse to push you into something you don’t want to do.” Was what Choso whispered against your ear, pulling back to glance down at you. Searching for anymore restraint.

You thought it over, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment before you stepped away from him. The man watched as your fingers curled under the waistband of your shorts and panties, slowly pulling them down your body. You came to lay on your bed, watching as he followed to sit at the edge of it.

“Watch carefully, Choso.” A sudden burst of confidence entered you, legs sliding open to reveal yourself to him. Your hand glided down your form, using two fingers to slowly spread yourself, middle finger coming to roll slow circles onto your clit. As the pleasure grew your legs opened more, head leaning back as a soft sigh escaped you. Your hand rose, pushing two fingers into your mouth and coating them in your saliva, purposely moaning around them just to watch him twitch.

Choso’s gaze was intense, leaving nothing untouched by his eyes. He hissed softly as he watched you push your saliva covered fingers inside, your walls clenching around the digits eagerly. You moaned softly, beginning to thrust them as two fingers rolled upon your clit. A soft swear escaped Choso, leaning to rest on his elbow while his free hand pushed his sweats and boxers to rest on his thighs, revealing his half hard length. Slowly he stroked himself, watching your fingers falter when you noticed him. Choso shook his head, reaching over and gently knocking his knuckles against your ankle.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep going..” He breathed, thumb collecting precum from his slit and gliding it down his cock. He groaned the moment your fingers moved again, watching the way you fucked yourself, your sweet moans bouncing off the walls. Choso couldn’t believe it when you picked up the call and he heard you, and he definitely couldn’t believe his ears when you moaned his name. He felt so perverted, loving every second of that call.

You hips rolled, legs shaking as your fingers curled and scissored inside you. Breathing heavily, his name escaped your mouth legs threatening to close from the pleasure. To which he refused, reaching over and locking his fingers around your ankle, pulling your legs open.

“Choso..”

“Wanna see.. that’s it, you’re so close princess.” Choso huffed, pace quickening— grinning at the way you clenched from his words. Your peaks were approaching, combined sounds of pleasure covering the room. Your eyes were pinched closed, whimpers escaping your throat before you came, coating your fingers in your release. Blurry eyes opened in time to see Choso tense, making a mess on his pants, hand, and bottom of his shirt.

The two of you panted, your legs relaxing, head resting against your pillow as you allowed yourself to breathe. That was until, you were dragged farther down the bed, feeling his strong hands grasp your thighs, parting them. You glanced down in time to spot him plant a kiss against your slit, gasping from the sensitivity. “Choso—!” You cried out, his thick tongue parting your folds, gliding across your sensitive bud.

The man wasted no time on feasting away on you, collecting your mess as if it was the finest wine; moaning at your taste. His grip tightened when you attempted to run from the pleasure, driving his tongue into you and curling. It was too much, too soon; your back arching as your hands found his hair, gripping and ruining the messy buns. Cries escaped you, thighs wrapping around his head so tightly, surely cutting off his air supply. But the man didn’t care at all, continuing to thrust his tongue in and out of you, dragging it out every once in a while to glide across your clit before diving back in.

Knuckles balled, you shook as you came all over his face, pushing your pussy right into him which he welcomed happily. He wasn’t any more gentle cleaning you up, lapping your juices with a soft hum. You pushed at him, Choso finally releasing you from the torture and sitting up. Choso rose, lifting his shirt to wipe his face clean of your mess before pulling it off fully and tossing it to the side.

You panted as he crawled over you, leaning on a forearm as his free hand gently grabbed your chin. “Focus here, princess..” He murmured softly, grinning at the way your heavy lidded eyes landed on his face. Choso leaned, stealing your breath in a heated kiss, wasting no time in driving his tongue into your mouth. Your taste burned your tongue, hands grabbing his strong arms for stability. Soft smacks entered the room, the kiss deepening; a softer whine escaping you the moment his hand traveled to your throat, simply holding it. The man rose away for a moment, a swear escaping him as he took in your disheveled form.

“How long have you wanted this, (Y/N)? Weeks? Months?” Choso questioned, tutting the moment you attempted to turn away. His hand traveled, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he leaned down. “You’ve gone mute, sweet girl?”

You murmured softly, fingers trailing to his wrist, warming at the way his thumb pressed against your slick lips. “Months.. since I’ve met you.”

“Oh..” Choso could nearly come on the spot from that, listening to your sweet, shaky voice admit something so dirty. Watching your pretty eyes refuse to meet his gaze. You were so embarrassed.. as if you hadn’t just played with yourself infront of him. He would chuckle if he wasn’t scared of offending you. Instead, he leaned even closer, lips hovering above your own as your noses brushed against each other. “Yeah? Bet this isn’t the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me..“ He spoke, lips quirking as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You wanted me to catch you one day, didn’t you pretty girl?”

You quickly shook your head, watching as the man sat up, hands falling to your thighs. You breathed as he rose them, resting the back of your knees onto his shoulders while his cock brushed across your entrance. Choso tilted his head at you, thumbs tracing your skin. “I didn’t take you for a liar, (Y/N).”

Before you could defend yourself he was pushing inside, a sharp moan escaping you as he began to stretch you. His hands were firm on you, keeping you grounded and steady. His eyes darted between the two of you, watching the way you spread around his length so nicely; walls clenching with each push inside. Choso felt the way your legs shook, a soft whine escaping you before he reached between your legs, slowly rolling circles on your hardened bud. “Relax for me, pretty girl.. That’s it— I’m almost there.” He nearly groaned at the way you clenched from his words, pushing his hips and becoming fully seated inside you.

Choso allowed you a moment to breathe, watching for any discontent while his finger continued to gingerly rub your clit. When he noticed the pained expression melt away, he was pulling his hips back, driving them forward quickly. The moment you moaned, was when he lost restraint; thrusts increasing and soon fucking you into the mattress.

Your legs shook with each rock into your body, his cock bullying your insides, reaching far deeper then your fingers or any toy you owned. Your fingers balled up the blankets underneath you, back arched as cries escaped your throat. It was becoming too much, tears ready to spill as you twisted and turned from the immense pleasure. You whined as he suddenly leaned down, pressing your legs up against your chest while his hand gently grabbed your throat once more.

“Don’t run (Y/N).. Stay right here, take it.” Choso spoke, breath heavy as his weight was placed behind each thrust. He watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your bed, grinning to himself in enjoyment and pure pride. You were clenching him so harshly, refusing to let him go, sucking him back in greedily. He was in a daze, completely focused on nothing more than your reactions; your beautiful sounds, your twitches, how your hands rose to clench at his arms— hanging on by a thread, using him for stability.

“Choso, Choso, Choso!” His name fell from your lips in a desperate mantra, eyebrows pinched closed as you felt yourself getting closer and close. The band was tight, ready to burst as his cock rammed into you— slamming against your g-spot with no mercy. You finally broke, soaking the sheets under you, ruining them completely.

Choso released a groan at the sight and feeling leaning to plant a heavy kiss onto your lips, all while fucking you through your orgasm. You whined at the sensitivity, hand falling to his waist to which he easily caught, intertwining your fingers and pushing into the mattress. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

“Mm.. I—I can’t—!” You cried out, the man pulling back to glance down at you. You were truly a sight, bohemian braids spread out around your hair, edges messy while your lips were bruised and coated in your shared saliva. Eyes lidded, shirt damp with your sweat with your breasts pushing against the thin fabric. The man sucked in a breath, hand falling to your waist and lifting, fucking you at different angle just to hear you scream.

“You can.. been takin’ me so well princess, making me a mess.” Choso breathed, eyelids heavy as he felt his end growing closer and closer. Lip caught between his teeth his thrusts became hurried, ramming you into the mattress all while continuing to hold your hand.

Incoherent babbles escaped you, knees brushing your chest, stuck under his weight. The moment he reached between you two to rub tight circles onto your clit you were done, lifting up off the bed and creaming all over him; throat raw, voice abused.

Choso’s eyes rolled back to his skull, rising as his thrusts turned sloppy, vocal moans and praises escaping him. Soon enough he was painting your walls white, stuffing you full as the warmth caused you to whine. The smell of sex rested in the air, followed by your commingled breaths.

The man moved your legs off his shoulders, allowing them to rest at his sides before coming to lay on you. You groaned softly, hands traveling to his back. He wasn’t a light man at all, nearly placing all his weight on you. “Choso.. you’re heavy.” You whined softly, still trying to regain your breath. He simply breathed you in, free hand moving to travel up the back of your skull, fingers gliding across the parts of your braids.

“Choso!”

“One more minute. Then we can shower.”

You shook your head with a simple sigh, smiling to yourself as your fingers trailed his back. However, the man rose from his previous position, releasing your hand to place them on your waist. “On second thought.. one more round.”

Your eyes widened in horror, yet excitement brewed in your stomach. It seemed you wouldn’t be leaving your bed anytime soon.

#mani writes ━━ ★ #black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso #choso kamo

[wheresarizona]

Old Habits

pairing: Joel Miller/f!former sex worker reader

summary: Back in Boston, Joel Miller was your favorite client who frequented your services, exchanging ration cards and other items deemed illegal for sex with you until he just disappeared one day. It’s years later, and now, by a stroke of dumb luck on your journey out west, you’ve found yourself in the town of Jackson and in close proximity to Joel once again, the two of you immediately falling back into old habits. 

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, porn without plot, reader’s age is unspecified but she was born before the outbreak, can be read as age gap, Gruff Joel Miller, Joel manhandling you, Joel ordering you around, rough sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, deepthroating, vaginal fingering, spanking, dirty talk (a lot), praise kink, light choking, squirting, breast play, spit mention, first kiss, talks of sex work (we are respectful in this house), a hint of Possessive Joel, some feelings as a treat, smidge of Soft Joel at the end, a special appearance by Ellie who doesn’t know where Joel is (spoiler: he’s hiding in your bathroom naked))

word count: 3.9k+

a/n: This was a horny thot I wrote in one night because it wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I’m sharing it with you. Thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It’s happenstance you find yourself in Jackson—honest to god, dumb luck, and a series of fortunate and unfortunate events. 

The plan was to cross the continent to Vancouver, B.C., where whispers talked about the QZ being a safe haven and not a complete hell hole like Boston. A group of you made the journey, and by the time scouts from Jackson found you getting close to their territory, only a few remained, and you all decided to stay in the quaint town. 

That brings you to where you are now, not even twenty-four hours after arriving, and barely settled into your little apartment in a converted garage, naked and on your knees with Joel Miller’s hard cock filling the tight space in your throat. Drool drips down your chin, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes as you suppress your gag reflex. 

It shocked you when he showed up at your door, having known him for years back in Boston since he used your services frequently, exchanging ration cards and other illegal items for sex with you. He loved that he could use you however he wanted, and you happily took it. He was your favorite client; then one day, he just disappeared—and in less than ten minutes of being reunited, he had you completely naked and on your knees for him. 

Did you mention he was your favorite?

He’s still fully clothed, with only his pants down enough to free himself. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you on him while he watches from above. You can’t even take him to the hilt, your jaw pried open wide. He’s heavy on your tongue, smelling the clean scent of the soap he must’ve scrubbed with before he came over. 

“Fuckin’ missed you chokin’ on my dick,” he groans. “So fuckin’ pretty takin’ it down your throat.” 

Your fingers are digging into his jean-clad thighs, your eyes rolled back in your head, moaning around him, barely able to breathe. He finally lets you up, and you come off him, gasping for breath. With saliva gathered on your tongue, you let it drip on the tip of him, your hand taking the place of your mouth, slickly stroking him while looking up at him through your lashes. 

“I missed this cock,” your words come out rough, tapping him on your tongue. 

He’s smirking. “Yeah, baby?”

“Yes.” You nod. “It’s so fucking big and always filled me so perfectly.” 

“I missed how your tight little pussy squeezed me—haunted my fuckin’ dreams. I can’t tell you how many times I fucked my hand thinkin’ about bein’ inside you again.” 

What he says has you feeling hot, arousal pooling in your belly, your cunt throbbing in the same beat as your heart, wanting him so badly. 

Continuing to jerk him in your palm, you dip your head down, licking at the thin skin of his sack before sucking a ball into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he moans. 

You give the other one the same treatment, letting it go to lick a hot stripe up his shaft, the tip steadily leaking precum. 

“On the bed,” he orders, roughly tugging you up by the arms to stand. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.” 

“Yeah?” you purr. The bed is behind you, and you walk backward until your legs hit the edge. “Where do you wanna come?” you ask. “My stomach? On my pussy? My ass? My tits?”

His dark eyes are half-lidded and burning with desire as he moves toward you with purpose, saying, “You know damn well I’m gonna come all over your gorgeous tits.” It’s his favorite place to finish. He’s in front of you, his large palms taking them in hand. “Fuckin’ missed these, too.” To end the sentence, he bends, sucking your pebbled nipple between his lips. You moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots straight to your cunt, pushing your fingers into his slicked-back, slightly damp hair. 

The reason Joel was your favorite is he always made sure you came at least once—doing things he knew you enjoyed because he wanted to make you feel good. That was rare in your previous profession. Usually, it was all about the client, and your pleasure didn’t matter. 

Joel’s a gentleman, though. 

A hot, grumpy gentleman.

His mouth moves to your other tit, flicking his tongue over the hard bud; you feel your need for him dripping from your pussy to coat your inner thighs. 

Suddenly, he’s straightening and pushing you back onto the mattress, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him as you sit up on your elbows. 

The tips of two of his thick fingers touch your lips. 

“Open,” he orders, and you do, sucking them into your mouth with a moan. “Get them nice and wet for me, baby.” You massage your tongue against them, his lust-filled gaze watching intently. He shoves them further back into your throat, and you easily take them. “Good girl,” he rasps. 

His hand leaves you, his focus locking on your glistening center. Dipping his head, he works his jaw to get saliva in the front of his mouth, spitting it onto your clit, and it drips all hot and wet down toward your hole that’s drooling arousal. 

“Pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he mumbles, staring at it. The press of his wet digits between the lips of your cunt sends an electric shock through you that has you throwing your head back. He wastes no time, gathering the mix of his saliva and your juices on his two fingers, pressing them inside you. 

A loud moan leaves you at how his fingers slightly stretch your tight walls. He’s pumping them in and out fast, crooking them to slide against that magical spot that blurs your vision. 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ missed me, didn’t ya?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you gasp. 

It sounds wet between your legs, hearing the slide of his digits fucking into you, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. 

“Nobody else made you come like me. And why’s that, baby?” he rasps, low. 

The muscles in your belly have begun tightening, his free hand grabbing at your breasts and teasing your nipples, the sensations ramping up your pleasure. 

“‘Cause it’s yours!”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he growls. “This pussy is mine.” 

He doesn’t stop his ministrations when he leans over you, his hand on your chest moving up to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly to make you see stars. 

“You gonna come for me?” he asks. “Gonna be my good girl and come all over my fingers? Let me have it.” 

Everything comes to a head, and you’re falling over the edge, your back arching, body tensing, coming with a moan of his name. Waves of euphoria erupt from your center, spreading out to your fingers and toes as he continues working you through your high to help you ride it out.  

“There it is,” he says. “My good fuckin’ girl.” 

Your mind is hazy, thoughts feeling slow and syrupy thick, almost positive you haven’t come that hard since the last time Joel paid you a visit. 

“You’re still my favorite,” you slur. He lets go of your throat as you lie back on the bed, blissed out. 

“I better fuckin’ be,” he replies, removing his hand from between your legs. “You haven’t even been here a damn day.” 

“I’m not doing that here,” you offhandedly comment. 

It’s silent for a second. 

“If this is your last time, can I pay for the entire night?” he asks. “They don’t have ration cards here, but I can trade for things you might need or do work around here. I can find some way to pay you.” 

Your eyes open, squinting as you sit back up. “I’m not charging you for this, Joel. You’re not my customer here. I’m having sex with you because I missed you and want to have sex with you.” 

His eyebrows lift. “Oh. Well, fuck, in that case, is this a one-time thing, or…?” 

Raising your brow, you answer, “Depends on if you fuck as good as I remember.” 

His eyes narrow. “I’ll fuckin’ remind you why you always made time for me,” he says, working open the buttons on his flannel shirt. 

It’s off in seconds, getting a glimpse of his torso before he’s bending down to untie his boots that he kicks off when he stands back up. 

Usually, he kept his clothes on, so there weren’t many times that Joel got fully naked when you were together in the past. With all the skin on display, your eyes take in the scars littering the parts of his body he bares—there’s a new one on his lower abdomen that someone clearly had to suture, the skin puckered. 

He’s so broad, his chest so wide, seeing the strength and loving how his belly is a little soft. Your eyes follow the trail of coarse hair below his navel, leading to his hard cock, bobbing between his legs as he pushes down his jeans and gets them off. 

He’s incredibly attractive, and yet you have no idea his age, never asking because it wasn’t any of your business, but now he’s no longer your paying client. 

“How old are you?” you ask. 

Standing at his full height, you watch him spit onto his fingers, using them to languidly stroke over his cock. 

“Fifty-eight.” 

“You look fantastic for your age.” 

“Thanks.” His eyes meet yours, and he’s moving forward to drag himself through your wet slit. “How old are you?” 

“Not fifty-eight.” You wink. “I’ll tell you if you buy me a drink.” 

“Deal.” 

Apparently, he’s done talking, notching himself at your entrance and snapping his hips forward to bury himself inside you in one smooth thrust. Moaning in unison, your hands claw at the bedding from how he fills you, falling back against the mattress.  

He’s big. 

He’s the biggest man you’ve ever been with, feeling the delicious burn at how he’s stretching you and so full it’s brimming on too much. 

“So tight,” he groans. “Fuck, I missed bein’ inside you.” He’s got your legs over his arms to keep you open for him. 

His hips bump into yours, giving you a second to get used to him, and you can’t get over how good it feels to have him inside you again; how right. Once you’re relaxed, he’s pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in hard. With how wet you are, he moves with ease, setting up a hard, steady pace that has your head spinning. 

“Miss bein’ split open on my cock?” His voice is deeper, the words slipping through gritted teeth. 

“Yes,” you gasp. 

Looking up at him, his eyes are dark pools stuck on the jiggle of your chest, his eyebrows creased, and teeth bared. Sweat is shining on his skin, a flush working its way from his chest up his neck to his cheeks, grey strands of his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. 

You press your tits together with your hands, tweaking your stiff nipples while he watches with rapt attention, licking his lips. 

“You fuck me so good, Joel,” you moan. “I missed this. I missed you. You feel so good inside me.” 

Heat is coiling in your tummy, winding tighter with every push and pull of his hips. 

He leans forward, his pace speeding up while he bats away your hands to roughly palm at your breasts, pinching your nipples. 

“Fuck,” he groans, seeing his throat work as he swallows hard, and you can tell he’s close. 

All of a sudden, he’s standing back up with a grunt. “Hands and knees,” he orders, smacking your hip. “I’m gonna give you what you want.” 

What he says makes you throb, excited for what’s about to happen. He pulls out, and enthusiastically, you’re flipping over and getting up into position with your knees at the end of the bed, sticking your ass out, presenting it to him. 

His palm slides along your spine as he sheathes himself back inside, making you whimper at how much deeper he is like this. 

Gripping your hips tightly, he fucks into you, slowly building up to a punishing pace, pounding into you like he’s finally letting go of all his pent-up frustration and anger he’s bottled up since the last time he was with you. Using you to relieve his stress just like before, allowing him to take it all out on you. His thrusts are knocking the wind from your lungs and stuttering your moans, hearing the slap of his flesh meeting yours and the squelching of his cock working in and out of your slippery cunt. 

Perspiration builds on your temples, his body colliding with yours, and you’re in heaven. Your eyes are closed, taking what he’s giving you, pleasure cutting through you at the slick slide of his dick spearing into you over and over again. 

A hand comes down on your ass in a loud slap, the sting making you clench and gasp at the heady rush you get, pushing back for more. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he grits out, his pace never waning. His hand lands again. “You like this? You want more?” 

“Yes!” you sob. 

His other hand makes contact with your plump flesh, going back and forth until you’re mewling. 

His fingers are digging into your waist, the heat at the base of your spine is growing rapidly. Your arms give out, and you lay your head on them, drooling from the onslaught—your heated skin is buzzing with every nerve alight in bliss, red-hot pleasure scorching in your belly, knowing you’re not going to last much longer. 

Words are spilling from your lips incoherently, Joel grunting behind you, your entire body trembling, something big building inside you, thinking you might explode. 

No one has ever wrecked you like Joel does. 

You’re a mess. 

A puddle of a person.   

He’s so deep it feels like he’s reaching nirvana inside you with every hard stroke. Pleasure has taken over your senses as it grows and expands inside you til you hit your breaking point, shattering around him with a cry of his name, coming so hard, he gets pushed out of you with a wet gush that splatters onto his thighs. 

A long, low guttural “Fuck,” sounds from behind you, hot ropes of his come landing on your fluttering hole and the puffy lips of your sex. 

You feel wrung out, and there’s a possibility you might actually pass out. 

Hands spread your asscheeks, humming in the back of your throat when Joel’s tongue licks through his mess, feeling the vibrations of him groaning and the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin. He makes another pass and another, not stopping until he’s gotten every last drop of his spend. 

He smacks your ass when he’s finished, the mattress springs complaining, and you jostle when he falls onto it beside you. 

In the past, once Joel came on his place of choice, he’d take a minute to collect himself, then pay and leave. 

What you don’t expect is him pulling you into his arms and spooning you from behind with his nose buried in your hair while hugging you close. 

The latter is better.

Much better.  

And simply nice. 

It didn’t matter you both were drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids—you've been grosser. 

Minutes pass where the only sounds are your labored breathing—ten, twenty, twenty-five.

“Wanna spend the night?” your voice is hoarse when you ask. 

He nuzzles into you, squeezing you tighter. 

“Yeah, but I have to be up early to meet my kid for breakfast.”

His answer has your brain screeching to a halt, wondering if you heard him right. 

“What did you say?” you ask. 

He turns his head to speak more clearly. 

“I’m gonna stay the night, but I’ll have to leave in the mornin’ to meet my kid for breakfast.” 

He didn’t have any children in Boston…

“How old are they?” 

There’s a smile in his voice when he answers, “She turned sixteen last month.” 

The math isn’t adding up…

“Joel?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you secretly have a kid in Boston I didn’t know about?” 

You’d been to the apartment he shared with Tess a few times when she was away, and there were no signs of children. 

“No. Ellie came into my life a couple of years ago or so.” 

Around the time he disappeared from yours. 

“Oh, she’s adopted.” 

“And a pain in my ass,” he says in a fond tone. 

“So, you’ve got a daughter now. Probably should’ve asked before I started sucking your dick, but are you seeing anyone?” 

“No.” 

For some odd reason you can’t explain, the answer relieves you.

“Single dad. That’s very sexy.” 

“I’m glad you think so. What about you? Are you seein’ anyone?” 

“Me? No. Been too busy trying to stay alive.”

“I know what that’s like. Do I still fuck as good as you remember?” 

A huff of air leaves your nose. “Yes.” 

“Wanna get that drink with me tomorrow night?” 

Smiling, you answer, “I’d love to.” 

There’s knocking on the door, and you’re wondering who would stop by after seven p.m., thinking maybe it’s one of your friends you traveled with or a neighbor welcoming you to the community. 

Joel groans as he gets up, heading toward your bathroom while you grab a blanket off the bed to cover yourself. 

Unlocking the front door, you hide your body behind it so all they can see is your face as you crack it open, finding a teenage girl on the other side. 

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask. 

“Hi! I’m sorry for bothering you, but I live in the house—” She points behind her with her thumb at the home you share the property with, “—and I didn’t know you moved in until Tommy told me at dinner and I wanted to make sure you knew who I was so you don’t try to kill me or some shit when I sneak out of the house in the middle of the night when the guy I live with is asleep.” 

She said a lot of things, but what you’re stuck on is—

“The guy you live with…? Is he your boyfriend or something?” 

The girl makes a disgusted face and gags. 

“Gross!” she exclaims. “No! He’s basically my dad, but I don’t call him that ‘cause it’d be fucking weird.” 

Your eyes widen, closing the door a little more so she can’t see past you. 

“What’s your name?” you ask. 

“Ellie.” Oh, fuck. “What’s yours?” 

After introducing yourself, you ask her, “What’s your adopted dad’s name?” 

“Oh, yeah, you should know that. I’m surprised he hasn’t come by to talk to you yet.” She looks around like she thinks she’ll spot him in the backyard. “I actually have no fucking idea where he is. Probably the bar,” she says with a shrug. “His name’s Joel.” 

“What does he look like?” She’s entertaining, and you want to hear her description. 

“Oh, he’s old as fuck and big—” She spread her arms wide, and you smile. “—but not in a fat way, like in a big, strong man way?” That’s accurate. “He always looks fucking grumpy or like someone pissed in his coffee.” Also true. “So, if you see an old, grumpy man who barely talks to you, it’s most likely Joel. Wait, come have breakfast with us in the morning and you can meet him! We meet at the mess hall at eight!”

“No, no, Joel doesn’t sound like a people person. I don’t want to bother him.” 

“Everyone bothers him. You should still come. I’ll save you a seat.” 

“Maybe. Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Ellie. Hopefully, I’ll come across this elusive Joel.” 

“He’s a grumpy asshole, but he’s still polite and will definitely stop by at some point to introduce himself, which you should tell him I stopped by like a good, responsible neighbor.” 

“A good, responsible neighbor who wants to make sure I don’t try to kill them when they sneak out of their house.” 

“Yeah! You get it.” She gives you a double thumbs up. “Alright, it was nice meeting you!” She walks backward, saluting you. “I hope you’ll come to breakfast tomorrow!” 

“We’ll see!” 

With that, you close the door and lock it. 

Turning around, you glare at the man who peeks his head out of the bathroom. 

“Is she gone?” he asks quietly. 

“I live in your backyard?”

“Yeah, I woulda told you, but we didn’t do much talkin’. Did she leave?” he asks again. 

“Yes,” you answer, walking over to the bed and tossing the blanket onto it. You’re in desperate need of a shower even though you took one earlier, heading towards Joel. 

“I can’t believe she sneaks out when I’m sleepin’,” he sounds genuinely betrayed, and you think it’s adorable. 

“She’s a teenager, Joel. It’s what teenagers do.” Slipping past him, you turn on the shower, the sound of roaring water filling the air. 

A long sigh leaves him. 

“Are you comin’ to breakfast?” He’s still naked, his arms crossed over his chest, resting his hip against the bathroom sink. 

Your head snaps toward him. “Do you want me at breakfast?” 

There’s the tiniest smile on his face. “I want you for breakfast, but don’t mind if you eat with us. Just, uh—” He scratches at his mustache. “—don’t mention how we know each other…” 

“No shit, Joel. We’re just old friends.” 

“Yeah, old friends…” 

“There you go.” 

There’s a curious expression on his face. 

“You really enjoy fuckin’ me for free?” 

You snort, getting in under the warm spray and closing the shower curtain behind you—bless Jackson and heated plumbing. “Yes, Joel.”

It’s a bathtub/shower combination, and he follows you in. 

Your face is under the water, feeling lips press to your shoulder from behind, blazing a path to the side of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin. 

Turning to wash your back, there’s an odd look on his face, his eyes a little bigger, not knowing what’s going on when his hands gently cradle your jaw. 

A surprised sound leaves you when his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss—something he’s never done before and refused in the past. His lips are plush, melting into him as he kisses the air straight from your lungs.

It feels like there’s been a shift, the walls he always kept up with you crumbling from showing genuine interest in him without a payment. 

There comes a point when you’re aching for air and break away with a gasp while his lips streak across your jaw and down your neck, sucking on your pulse point. 

“Joel?” you pant. 

His head comes up to meet your eyes, his chest rising and falling hard. 

“I’ve always liked you,” you tell him. “If I wasn’t desperate in Boston, I never would’ve charged you for your time—that’s how much I enjoy fucking you. Add in you making it all the way here alive, and how cute you are when you talk about your kid; I like you even more. I’ve always liked you, Joel.” 

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“I’ve always liked you, too, baby.” His mouth descends on yours once more. 

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @pedrostories @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @thefictionalgemini @lol-im-done @koryianders @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @shaunthesheesh @marsroxx @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @autobotgirl15-blog @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @vanemando15 @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @butterscotch-mafia @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings@seitmai @myswficlist @call-me-doll-face @fictionalmenloversblog @addisonnie

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #wheresarizona writes

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Monkey D. Luffy Headcanons (General)

''I can't be the King of Pirates without you by my side.'' — Monkey D. Luffy.

❝ 👒 — lady l: It's 4am and I decided to finish this because I was bored lol. Hope you like it! I'm sorry for any mistake and good reading! ❤️💛

❝tw: obsessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and torture, unhealthy relationships.

❝👒pairing: yandere!monkey d. luffy x gender neutral!reader.

Monkey D. Luffy has a relaxed and even sloppy personality, in a way. He has a carefree air, who cares about few things in his life. He had a goal, a dream, in mind and he would do anything to achieve it. But that dream became irrelevant after he met you.

He insisted a lot on you joining his crew, literally chasing you, harassing you, until you agreed to become a pirate. Luffy jumped for joy when that happened, because it meant you responded to him, as your Captain.

Luffy doesn't like to give you orders and he will rarely do so, unless it is unavoidable, in which case he will try to be as subtle as possible, as if he wasn't ordering you to do something. He is the Straw Hat Captain, but he is not your captain, not in a personal way at least. Furthermore, he wants you to find One Piece together with him.

He is very optimistic and tends to be very kind, trying to see the good in people, but he is a hypocrite when it comes to you. Even if you were the cruelest person in the world, Luffy would defend you tooth and nail. He's not very fair when it comes to you and anything ''wrong'' you do will be ignored by him, maybe even applauded.

People tend to think he's dumb or at least stupid, but that's not true. He may not be good at things that require greater thinking, but Luffy is anything but stupid. He is quite intelligent in his own way and it shows in the way he acts towards you. His intelligence is characterized by his emotional ability, he is very good at reading you and knowing your needs.

Luffy values you more than the rest of his crew. He loves all his friends, but he loves you the most. He would never say it out loud, but he would sacrifice everyone, send them to their deaths, if you so wish. He wants to make you happy and if the death of those who are important to him is the path to that happiness, so be it.

He is not possessive or jealous because Luffy knows he is your favorite. He doesn't mind other people being around you, but he has his limit. If Luffy thinks, even a little, that he is being replaced in your life, he won't accept it. Not without a fight. He's no stranger to bloodshed or killing, so he'll have no problem doing so.

On the other hand, Luffy is extremely overprotective and clingy, to a frightening degree. He dragged you into this life, but he doesn't want you to be an active participant. The idea, the thought, of you getting hurt sends you into a frenzy of anger and worry. He will kill, cut and even torture the person who hurt you and will only be satisfied when he has finished with the person.

Luffy is quite controlling and curious, he wants to know everything about you and he will find out. He doesn't want any secrets to be kept from him and he may feel betrayed if you try to keep something from him. Did he not give you enough confidence? Don't you know he's the only one you can really trust? Luffy will have to do something about your inappropriate behavior.

He likes to spend as much time as he can by your side, take everything he can and stay close to you as much as possible. His favorite moments together are when you are eating or sitting on the bow of the Going Merry. Luffy is very greedy for food and for you, if there are two things he cares about most and values above all else, it's you and food, in that order.

It's not easy to irritate him, but he gets irritated very easily when you're involved. If someone says something bad about you, feel sorry for that person because they won't end well. Luffy would never go so far as to kill over an insult, but he will get upset and he can be a pain in the ass when he is upset about something.

Luffy often behaves like a child, he tends to go to extremes very easily. He goes from 80 to 180 very quickly, his infectious joy turns to fury very quickly when it comes to you. He loves to entertain you with his rubber body, letting you play or making funny faces. He loves to hear you laugh and will do anything to see you laugh.

He hates seeing you cry, hates seeing your beautiful face wet with tears, your lips pursed as you cry. If Hell exists, then for Luffy it's seeing you cry. He will become furious and demand to know the cause of your sadness and once he finds out, he will deal quickly, often bloodily. If it is one of the Mugiwara, however, he will just be more rigid and will not hurt them.

Luffy is selfless, he is willing to sacrifice himself for you, to save you. He is delusional to a fault, willing to kill anyone who crosses you, including his own friends. Whatever past hurt you may, if he has your approval, Luffy will get revenge for you. No one can hurt you, no one can make you cry. He may not be the most dangerous to you, but to others around him, Luffy will have no qualms.

#one piece #yandere one piece #dark one piece #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #yandere monkey d. luffy #yandere monkey d. luffy headcanons #yandere monkey d. luffy x reader #yandere luffy #yandere luffy x reader #yandere luffy headcanons #yandere headcanons #headcanons

[nezuscribe]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson is in love with you. and he refuses to let a little date set up by a guy who probably doesn't even know your favorite movie ruin his chance of getting with you.

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, loss of virginity (for reader), cunnilingus, cum eating, heavy making out, fingering, teasing, mentions of weed, vaginal penetration, eddie has a little bit of a corruption kink if you squint

Eddie Munson never yelled. He never raised his voice when he got mad, he never got angry with people who have done him wrong. Despite his outward appearance, his rings were always kept to himself, used more as a fidgeting tool than anything else, and his little knife was used to carve his name in the tree outside the school. 

Everybody who knew him decently well would know that he was really just a temperate soul, and it didn’t take a lot to make him happy. The Hellfire Club almost always brought a joyful smile to his face and when he was tired his joints were always there to solve whatever problem he was facing. 

But above everything, you seemed to be his answer to all of his woes. 

You, who he's known ever since middle school. And at first, it wasn’t your smile that made his day just so much better because your braces got in the way and you hated how food sometimes got stuck in them, so you refrained from smiling for the first three years he knew you. But then you did and things just seemed to fall into place. He could stare at the softness of your eyes for days and never grow tired. He’d make a song to reminisce on the little snort you let out at his dumb jokes because he cherishes it more than anything. 

As time seemed to pass, your friendship got closer and closer and everything seemed to be known between the two of you. Who his first kiss was, who yours was. What your favorite bands were, people you despised, and people with whom you could get along. Eddie knew your favorite movie because you loved movies more than anything. You could talk about them on and on, for hours on end because he’d never get tired of the animated way you explained the cinematography and acting. Truth be told, Eddie could never get tired of you, but he had to tell himself something to try and get over you.

When you turn up to his trailer, insistently knocking at the door with a gleaming grin on your face, he couldn’t ever say no. And he guesses that his compliance with letting you get away with owning every crevice of his bleeding heart would only lead him to more misery than anything, but Eddie just had no control over his mind when it came to you.

So with you sitting on his legs, your shirt riding up just a little bit so that he could catch a little peek of your soft skin, his mind was going into overdrive. You played with his hair, fiddling with the pesky elastic band he had given you earlier as you tried to give him the most outrageous hairdo you’ve ever seen. You’d give him an occasional apologetic smile when you tugged just a bit too hard, but it didn’t matter because your fingers were just so soft and gentle that he wanted you to tug at his hair again. And the worst part was that he couldn’t even relax because his entire body was tensing up with the words that spilled out of your mouth.

“And then she gave me a lower grade because apparently, she has a late policy? She never had one all year, remember?” Eddie nodded and that seemed to be enough for you as you continued, “Anyways, I told her that. And after a couple of minutes, she said she’d give me something a bit higher, but it was still shitty for all the work I put into that poster.” You give an exasperated sigh, your lips pouting a bit as you lean a bit more forward and Eddie feels like this is what paradise must be.

“She’s an astronomical pain in the ass. And she likes you. Remember how I forgot to write my name on that one paper? She was really about to shove that ruler up my ass.” He teases and you laugh a little as you remember the fond memory.

“Yeah, well, you always have it worse Munson. But I almost lost my grade because of her!” You exclaim, taking a deep breath as you calm down, eventually giving him a shrug, curling one of his strands around your finger as you watch it unravel, falling onto his forehead as you look down at him with a little smile, “But I know my way around teachers. ‘S why I got her a bigger gift for Christmas, she knew she’d have to pay me back sometime.” 

“You’re a little bit evil, y’know that, right?” Eddie quipped as you swatted his shoulder, pinching his nose and he rolled his eyes at your childish antics, “Have the entirety of the teacher and student population wrapped around your little finger.” 

“What?” You shake your pointer finger in front of his face, “This one?” Eddie smiles as he pushes it down, poking your sides as you squeal, a cascade of giggles falling for your lips as his hands attack your sides. 

“That’s the one sweetheart.” 

He cradles your elbows, careful that you don’t fall, but how could you when you're sitting so comfortably atop him? It was little moments like this that gave Eddie hope that maybe there was something more than you were leading on, that maybe, just maybe you could at some point reciprocate his feelings. 

“Oh! Almost forgot to tell you this, but I have good news, really good news. You’re never going to believe it. Leaves your jaw hanging, spits in your eye, kick you in the shins, good news,” You try to contain the gleeful smile that made its way onto your face, “I was - no, wait… I want you to guess.” 

“...guess?” 

“Yeah, guess!” 

“Um…” He scratched his head, biting his lip as he shrugged, “Your parents are buying you that car?” 

“I said good news, Munson, not a miracle.” He huffs a little laugh, sitting up a bit so that he rested his head against the headboard of his bed, craning his neck a bit so that he could look at you better.

“You found a cure for cancer? Always knew you were a smart little cookie.” He pinched your cheek, giving you a boyish and cheesy grin as you swat his hand away. 

“No, ugh, you suck at this Munson,” And though you say it you still play with his hair, twirling it around, and it was enough to show Eddie that you didn’t really mean your words, “No, Charly asked me out on a date!” 

Eddie choked a little bit on his spit, his eyes bugging out as he coughed, his fist hitting his chest as you worriedly patted his back. 

“You alright?” You asked, your voice tilting a bit as Eddie hurriedly nodded, his heart stopping right then and there in his chest as every little moment flashed through his eyes. His hands felt clammy, the room was getting too hot and suddenly he felt like his throat slowly was closing up on him.

“Y-yeah, yeah, peachy.” Peachy? No wonder you hadn’t given him a chance by now.

“Oh, um, okay, well…” Your brows furrowed as you examined his face, doing the little beads of seat accumulating on his forehead, “Do you want some water?” And he shook his head, clearing his throat as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to lose every shred of sanity he had left. Though Eddie didn’t want to hear any more of this and just wanted to curl up into a big ball and just weep, the pure radiance that flowed out of you to tell him the big news didn’t allow him to do it. So he just motioned for you to continue, his soft brown eyes looking anywhere else into the room so that they wouldn’t give his true emotions away. 

“I actually never thought he’d do it, y’know, because of how awkward I can be around the male species,” You continued, going back to fiddling with his hair as though nothing happened, “But he asked me yesterday! He said he wanted to take me to that drive-in theater,” You paused, your lips pursing as you tried to fluff up his already fluffy hair, “You know, that one next to the bowling alley?” And Eddie can only hum, his hand splayed across his chest as he felt his heart churn into a tight pulp.

Because the worst thing is, you’re going to go back to your house after all this is over. You come over, talk, make him fall in love with you all over again, and unknowingly make him go crazy at the mere thought of you. It wasn’t his fault that he spent years pinning after you, but it definitely was when he never gave his feelings up.

He knew that he couldn’t sabotage years of your friendship if he actually told you the truth, ruin the hours and days you’ve spent with each other just because his anguished and lovesick mind told him it’d be a good idea to reveal the truth to you.

“And then - do you have any more hair ties?” He held up another one, ready on command as you gave him a tiny grin, “Thanks Eds,” You ruffle his head a little bit, “And then he said that we could go to his place.” You paused for a second, gathering all of your thoughts as you spoke, “Now,” You look down at him with a raised brow, “I’m gonna need you to be honest with me, okay, Munson? And don’t laugh…promise? Okay?” 

Your change of tone worried him, and if it was apparent by the furrow of his brow then it might have been from the way he stopped breathing momentarily. Eddie knew you long enough that he was aware of almost all of your secrets, if not every single one. The two of you were open with basically everything and the way you nervously fiddled around with your fingers was out of character for you.

“Scouts honor.” He muttered, trying his best to hold up the three fingers as you rolled your eyes, going back to his hair because you couldn’t help the heat that spread across your face, the embarrassment that would come with your following question. 

“Does that mean he wants to, um,” You falter, your hands pausing their movements as you look off to the side, “Well…you know…” It’s too much to say out loud, and even though you’ve known Eddie for a while, the way he looks up at you confused only adds to the humiliation you were getting.

“I actually don’t know. You take my power for knowledge for granted sweetheart.” He says with a little laugh, his head nudging your hand, a silent way to tell you to get back to playing with his hair. His lightheartedness eases you up and you giggle, flicking his forehead as he winces a bit.

“That he wants to, uh, do some body boogie…?”

“Body boogie?” 

You cover your face with your hands as Eddie lets out a hearty laugh, some of his tense posture melting a bit as you slap his shoulder, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you felt like you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. 

“Sex, Eddie,” You spit out, “Does he want to have sex with me if I go to his house?”

Pink dusts his cheek as you look at him worriedly, your eyes big and round as you watch his face flush. Every part of his body seemed to be shutting down, and if it wasn't enough having to find out that you were going on a date with this basketball player, having to think about him doing such things with you made his stomach churn uncomfortably. But he swallowed thickly, not wanting to make you feel awkward or embarrassed as he shrugged, his tongue feeling abnormally big in his mouth as he tried to think of what to say.

“Yes or no? Come on Munson, you’re a guy. If you wanted to take a girl home, is there any backing behind it other than a cup of coffee?” Your eyes squint, and now you feel like he’s just playing with you when in reality he felt like he was slowly yet surely losing grasp of himself. 

“Um, well, I…” He scratched his jaw, taking in your anxious face as a line appeared in the middle of his brows, “Depends, really.” And he sees how you chew on your lip, his answer obviously enough to send your mind into a spiral of thoughts. 

“Depends on what…?” You push, readjusting yourself on his legs so that you wouldn’t put so much weight on his thighs. The single movement almost made him forget who he was, his hands almost coming up to your hips to hold you steady where you were.

Eddie faltered. How could he explain this? It’s not as though he was the guy, not like he could get into his mind, dig deep, and look at his desires. If it had been him, he’d never take you to a drive-in theater. He’d take you to that little pizza place you liked so much and buy a whole pizza for the two of you to share. He’d get you ice cream - three scoops if you wanted, and he’d pay for it because he’d never let you spend money when he was there. He’d drive you back home, and drop you off at your front doorstep with a sweet goodbye kiss. But Eddie knew that his fantasy was simply too unrealistic to reach, and if he was trying the be realistic then, yeah, that guy probably did want to have sex after you went to his place. 

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He ran a hand through his hair, something he often did when he was feeling like his whole world was crashing down on him, “If he’s really horned up after the movie then he most likely will want to have some…body boogie.” You groan at his choice of words, falling off of his lap much to his great disappointment as you bury your face into one of his pillows.

“You’re not going to drop that by chance, are you?” Your voice comes out muffled as you refuse to look at him, and he laughs a bit, nudging your side with his elbow as he shakes his head. 

“Over my dead body.” 

You mutter something inaudible to yourself, your nose pressed flat against the fabric of his pillow as you hug it to your chest, rolling over to your side so that your back was facing him. He watches as your back moves up and down with every breath you take, and he wishes he could map all the little birthmarks you had all over your legs and thighs with his lips if you gave him the chance.

“It’s just I think that the only reason he asked me out is that…he wants to get in my pants. Well, to be honest, I think that’s the only reason I got asked out…” You turn around, laying on your back as your hands lay across your stomach, “Whenever I talk to him he always looks like he’s in his own place. And yesterday he barely even acknowledged our date, just the ‘getting to his house part’. And I refuse, you hear me, Munson? I refuse to let him get anywhere near me if that’s the case. It’s only the first date! I barely even know him. I m-mean, what happened to chivalry, you know? What happened to opening car doors, or asking how your day was, or simply just speaking, huh? And you’re probably right! He always stares at my chest when I wear that blue shirt. God, can you imagine? I was going to wear it tomorrow, too! That’d probably get him horned up enough to just tear it-” 

“Whoa! Hey, slow down a bit, yeah?” He held his hands up, a nervous smile on his face as he searched your frantic eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down and you were quickly trying to pick at your nails as you trailed off.

“I don’t understand. If you want to go out on a date with this guy, why are you so…jittery?”

“Jittery?” You raised your brow, your lips turning into a little frown as you squinted at him, “What do you mean, jittery?” 

“Your pupils are dilated, your hands are shaking like crazy. You spoke about fifty words per second back there and you look like you’re about to eat anything that comes at you. If that’s not jittery then I was fucking calm during my presentation last week.” He tried to joke as he nudged your arm with his hand, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as you flop back down, groaning as you jam your palms into your eyes.

The truth was, you had no problem with sleeping with somebody. You wanted it after hearing all your friends rave out their first, second, and third times. It was just that you did want to spend it with some nobody who wouldn’t even remember your name come the next morning. And even though your friends seemed to always like the experience, they never failed to mention how it hurt when the other person never gave a shit about them afterward. 

Call it a wishful mindset but you felt like you had barely any control over how most of your life was spent. And this one thing that you could actually control couldn’t have gotten tainted by a guy who barely even washed his dick.

“I’m not jittery…I’m just having the sudden and impending realization that you’re right and he probably won't even focus on the movie because he only wants to have sex with me and get it over with.” You sink as your own words hit you. 

“You’re overthinking this, Y/n. He probably wouldn’t be able to focus on the movie because he’s too busy looking at the disaster sitting next to him.” He says and you scoff, slapping his chest as he grins triumphantly.

“You don’t understand, Eddie. Every date you’ve gone on has been great. You two always have a splendid time eating your splendid pizza and having splendid conversations. I’ve been on a date with two guys - two guys! The first one couldn’t even count because he showed up ten minutes late to the restaurant and said he had to leave because his mom had a stroke - a fucking stroke! And the second guy had the sudden realization that he was into men halfway into the movie…Eddie, are you even listening?” 

You stopped because as you looked over to Eddie you saw the growing smile on his face, the way he had to try his very hardest to suppress it as little uneven huffs came out of his nose, his lips wobbling as he covered his lower face with his ringed hand. When he caught your angry stare he broke out into a chortle, his arms covering his stomach as your own frown wavered. 

“I’m absolutely hopeless, Eddie. People have changed their preferences because of it!” You gnaw on your tattered lip, weaving your fingers together as you turn your neck over to look at it, the smile on your face falling as it turns into something more melancholy, “Am I really that pathetic?” It comes out as a whisper but it’s enough to carry between your two bodies, enough that Eddie stops laughing and he can almost see himself in the way you torment yourself over this.

He clears his throat, propping himself up on his elbow as he shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second as his lips pressed together thinly. There was a speech laying at the tip of his tongue and he was prepared to give the monologue of his life to explain to you that you were actually far from pathetic. But he was shy, contrary to popular belief, and he fiddled with the ends of his hair as he said something less blatantly obvious that would showcase his never-ending love for you.

“No, you’re not pathetic, you just have…bad luck when it comes to the people you go after.” It was simple but it still made that little frown on your face disappear as you gave him a sheepish smile. 

“I do?” You bit the inside of your cheek as he huffed out another laugh, nodding as you couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“Rotten luck, sweetheart. Worst I’ve ever seen.” He teases but it’s the kind you love, the kind that cheers you up even when you feel like shit. It’s the sort of Eddie Munson that very few people see, and maybe that’s what makes it even more special.

“You’re right,” You whisper, pouting at the frayed strands of his blanket, “I should probably just give up, hm?” 

“No, don’t give up just…look for people with better traits.” He quickly stammers, cringing as he blushes at the way you look at him, your eyes never leaving his as you try to make out what he was saying.

“Better…traits? Like what, Munson?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t start out with a hoops and laundry baskets player, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” You say with a laugh, sitting up as you scooch a little bit closer to him so that you weren’t so far away, “What else should I look out for?”

“Guys who don’t like Metallica or Iron Maiden,” You mutter out a quiet of course in agreement and he smiles, “Guys who aren’t tatted up, guys who-” 

“Tattoos? That’s a must?” He nods definitely, pointing to his bats. 

“It’s a necessity. How do you expect a guy to commit to you if he can’t commit to something like these, hm? This - this is just skin, really, at the end of the day. You’re a lifelong deal, sweetheart. You tend to stick and never let go.” 

Your confusion melts away into a shy smile, your face heating up in embarrassment as he shoots you a playful, teasing grin. He’s pulling at your strings, waiting to see if he could unravel you.

“Anything else I should be wary of, oh wise one?” He rolls his eyes, shoving your knee as you giggle at the nickname

“Guys who wouldn’t drop what they're doing when you call them if you need anything. Or guys who don’t listen to what you say because believe it or not, you’re really fucking funny. Or - or guys who don’t watch your favorite movie over and over again because it gets “boring”. Guys who don’t appreciate your smile or that weird noise you make when you laugh - which, seriously, you have to get that checked out. I could go on and on, really. I could write my english paper on this shit, you know.” He tries to joke but your eyes are lost somewhere else, a slight glaze to them as your lips part. 

The heat in the room has amplified, and the silence that is carried out between your two bodies is too much to handle. It’s suffocating that your throat closes up, the way your mind is opened and new thoughts are flooding in. His words replay over and over again because your heart is probably twisting them into something more than just a warning of what to be cautious of in people to date. It feels like the sun is drawing closer to this little room out in Hawkin’s trailer park and you don’t want to do anything about it when Eddie’s looking at you like that. Has he always looked at you like that? 

Yes. 

“Um,” Your throat clogs up and you have to clear it, the stick feeling sitting on your tongue much more than nervousness, “Well, that - that eliminates almost every guy in Hawkins, Eddie. Unless you want to count Gareth but,” You breathe deeply through your nose as he never breaks eye contact with you, “I don’t think even I can convince him to watch pretty in pink again.”

“That a bummer.” He mutters, his pink lips looking softer than usual as his finger near your knee taps a little bit on your skin, leaving little goosebumps in its wake as you suddenly feel like your clothes are getting too tight. 

“A real shame, Munson.” 

Eddie gulps audibly, his doe eyes widening as you shift, watching how your shirt hitching up a little bit, giving him a little insight into your supple skin as you readjust it again, your gaze falling onto something to the side because it was just too heavy to hold his.

So he sits up, his jeans wrinkling with his movements, his rings clattering together as you bashfully look back at him, your two hearts seemingly beating in one rhythmic thump. This never happened, not with the two of you, so why, why did it feel like Eddie was suddenly gripping your thoughts with his innocent words.

“Listen, I’m just gonna shoot a thought out into the open, okay? Don’t take it too seriously because I’m rarely thinking straight. I should get that checked out, r-really, but, uh, okay, anyways. It’s just something that, uh, popped into my mind, yeah? Maybe - maybe, there’s somebody else? Not Gareth, or Charly. But somebody who…” He fails to think of a good enough word to explain his thoughts, but you fill in for him with a hesitant, hopeful smile, the same one that reminded him that he could never love anybody more than he loved you.

“...who actually cares?” And he nods, grateful as he gives a weak little huff of a laugh, ducking his head down for a second as small breaths are shared between the diminutive space between your two bodies.

“Yeah, somebody who actually cares.” He repeated breathlessly.

Your eyes trace his smile lines, the crinkle around his eyes as he stares at you. Have they always seen such a brown color, looking like melted chocolate? You couldn't have just discovered that he had a splash of freckles, barely there, only illuminated by the light overhead, across the apple of his cheeks. 

Since when did Eddie Munson look like this?

“Look, what I’m trying to say is…how about,” His smile falters, the confidence he usually has leaving his system as the bits of insecurities accumulating throughout the years bleed through, “How about me? See if I can live up to the Munson name? I’m really good at being a gentleman, you just haven’t seen that side of me…yet, maybe, possibly…?” 

You don’t say anything, and the silence freaks him out more, so he continues to ramble on. 

“Actually, let me backtrack a bit. I’m sorry, really sorry. I just talk out of my ass a lot. I was smoking earlier and must still be on a high o-or something, that has to be it. Just forget I e-ever said that, okay-” But you cut him off, leaning your body in by a bit so that your noses bumped against each other, your hand having to come up to his chest for balance as you smash your lips against his. 

It almost seems unreal, the way everything seems to unfold. 

He stammers, pulling away a little as his lips ghost over yours. Your chest heaves with uneven breaths and your lipstick’s all smudged, but you’ve never looked more beautiful to him. He watches as you readjust your position a bit so that you were resting on your knees, your hands crawling around his shoulder almost in a shy manner, terrified that you had read the room wrong. Your lips rest whispers away from him, and Eddie knows that as crazy of a person he is, there is no way in hell that he’d ever be going to let you go again. 

So he pushes back into you, the force almost causing you to tumble down on his mattress had it not been for his hands supporting your back. It was feverish, needy, how the two of you moved against each other. You felt your teeth clash, his hair ticking your face as he moved his hands up to gently cup your jaw, the motion was slight but it made all the butterflies in your stomach multiply by tenfold. 

His tongue swipes against yours, and you let out a quiet moan as it slips into your mouth. His hands go down to your waist, tugging up your shirt so that they could grip at the skin underneath. You don’t miss the little groan he lets out when he moves you closer to his chest, unknowingly moving your knee against his growing bulge. 

“Shit, Eddie, I…” Your eyes shut as you feel his lips trail a wet kiss from your mouth to your jaw, moving as his thumb tilts your head up to reveal the column of your neck to him, “I don’t know how to…” And you trail off, another moan escaping your lips when he lightly bites at your pulse point. 

But even in his delirious state Eddie can still hear, and so he lets go, looks up at you in slight confusion as his tongue pokes out from his swollen lips, his thumbs holding onto your hips with such care that you don’t know why you never initiated this earlier.

“What do you um,” His fingers draw small patterns on your heated skin, “What do you mean?” 

You duck your head down into his chest, and he smiled to himself at how cutely you clutched at his old band shirt, your cheek pressed against the fabric as you gave him a tiny shrug. 

“I’m kinda, uh, clean in this department, Munson,” You look up at him with those eyes that make him go insane and he almost forgets how to control himself, but he still doesn’t seem to understand what you were trying to say, “Catch my drift?” You ask awkwardly as you fiddled with the string of his ripped jeans. 

“But I thought…” His forehead knocked against yours, his nose bumping with yours as you felt a small smile grow on your face, “You said you had your first kiss with Sean Oman…right?” 

“Well, you were telling me all about your experiences and I felt left out so I just, well, made up a little…fib.” 

“A fib?” He repeats slowly and you nod, embarrassed that you’d actually have to tell him this, and you could see how the gears in his head were turning as he pursed his lips, “So you’re telling me you haven’t slept with Harrington either?” And his tone is accusing but he still can’t help but grin because of how embarrassed you are. 

“Come on, Munson,” You press another kiss to his lips because now that you know what it’s like the seconds adding up after each one is getting addicting, “You couldn’t really have believed that I slept with somebody like Harrington.” 

“I’d never doubt that Harrington would want to be with you,” Edde argues as kisses you again. This time, it’s slow and sweet, and his lips are as soft against yours as your hands come up to toy with the strands of hair against his back, “Who wouldn’t? Have you taken a good look in the mirror?” 

You giggle as you nod, and he presses a kiss to your cheek, moving up so that he kisses above your eyelid, anywhere that he could reach as you felt every nerve in your body yearn to feel his lips on your skin. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to make you look again.” He trails off and you feel him stop. You whine a bit as he looks back down at you, his face suddenly overcome by a new emotion as he purses his lips a bit. 

“Wait, so, um…if I’m getting this, what you’re saying is that you’re a - a…” He breathes deeply through his nose and it takes everything in him not to go crazy at the thought, “You’re a virgin?”

Embarrassment floods your senses as you slowly nod, not able to get it out as he lets out a little gasp of shock, his cheeks flushing red as if he were the one in your position. 

“Y/n, I…” He falters as he looks down, “I don’t want to be the one that…takes it. I m-mean, you want it to be with someone important, right? And I can’t imagine that it’s ever been something you’d look forward to… losing your virginity in a trailer that constantly smells like cheap cologne and weed. Sweetheart, I don’t want this to be s-something that you regret because-” 

“Eddie,” You turned his face so that he was looking at you. Your thumb finds his cheek, and you rub up and down slowly, your own bottled-up emotions spilling out as you give him a weak laugh, “You are that important someone. Shit, I-I can’t imagine it being anybody else, you know? I probably trust you with my life and…listen, Eds, what I’m trying to say is...if you’re okay with it, I am too.” The smile you give him could power up his weak self for decades to come and even then he could run on the mere thought of your words playing endlessly in your mind.

He feels like maybe, somehow, this is his own heaven. That he waited long enough to feel you kissing him as if time was running out as if the world was going to stop spinning and the two of you only had so many minutes left to make the most of it.

“You’re sure?” He’s chewing on his lips nervously because deep down he knows that there’s no way you’d want this. You're miles away from his league, lightyears ahead of someone he could even call a friend. He wanted your first time to be somewhere meaningful, somewhere that he could confess his yearning feelings and have you listen. But even now you seemed to be content with him, pulling him closer to your body.

A beat follows and you slowly nod. 

“Yeah…let’s see if you can live up to the Munson name.”

The two of you are terribly coordinated, but it results in laughs and giggles as you fall back onto his bed with you situated on his lap, just like you were earlier in the night but this time with much more feelings behind the action. 

“Getting a little bit of déjà vu right now, no?” He muttered and you snorted, your hands moving across his chest as you eagerly tried to lift it up. You couldn’t have done it without his help but Eddie still looks at you as if you’ve hung the moon and stars, “Huh…” He moves up your shirt, pointing to the area around your stomach, “You have a birthmark here. It’s cute-”

“You talk a lot for somebody who’s about to get very lucky, Munson.” You say, cutting him off with a laugh and he does the same, straddling your hips in his large hands as he moves you to be over his crotch, letting out a little moan as you rub against his erection. 

You pause for a second as you take him in, your head tilting to the side as you give a smile far too innocent for the situation he was in. After all these years of knowing Eddie, you had how you’re suddenly coming to realize just how pretty he was, how his skin was soft and his tattoos trail further down than you thought. 

“Hey,” He muttered, tapping your cheek as he shot you a shy smile, “Everything good so far? Want to stop?” 

“No, no,” You stutter out, nervous as he waits for you to gather yourself up, “It’s just that…you’re really nice to look at, Munson.” 

He groans out at your confession, blushing an even deep red. His lips pout slightly as he brings your hands up to his lips, pressing kisses against your knuckles and fingers, kissing your palm and wrist as he tries to cover every inch of your skin with himself.

“Well, Y/n, you are just simply irresistible.” 

“...really?” Your voice is small in the open space of his room, suddenly shy with the amount of attention you were receiving all at once. Especially because this attention was so tooth-rottenly sweet that you felt like you could melt into a little puddle and still be happy.

“More captivating than anything I’ve ever seen in my life, sweetheart. Swear it on my life. And my guitar.” 

And you giggle, rubbing at your eyes as you try to convince yourself that this was really happening. And it was because the more you moved the more Eddie’s smile fell and turned into something more sinful, something that reminded you that the two of you were about to cross a line into unknown territory.

“O-oh, fuck, wait,” Eddie groans at the way you rub your aching cunt up and down his jeans, your own cunt clenching at the mere thought of having him inside you, “That’s - that’s, fuck, you don’t have to do that.” He's lying because he can’t seem to make you stop, only gripping your ass with more strength as he moves you up and down, guiding you on how to ride him to maximize both of your pleasures.

“Eddie,” You whimper as your clit rubs against his sheathed cock, the sensation more tantalizing than anything your fingers have given you, “You’re - you’re gonna have to walk me through some things b-because I’m a little bit clueless when it comes to this.” You try to laugh but it turns into a breathy moan as Eddie lifts your shirt up, easily taking it off as you lift your arms up for him. 

You let out another whimper as he sees your bra, his hands moving up to trace the delicate lace around your breasts, his own brain shutting down as some carnal desire bleeds into rational thought as he expertly unclasps it in a swift motion. 

“Eddie!” You squeal when your bra falls down your arms, your hands subconsciously covering your chest as you laugh in shock, “Give me a little warning before you do something like - like that.” And it’s not that you're mad, no, you could never be mad at Eddie. It’s the fact that nobody's ever seen you in such a vulnerable and open position before. But he didn’t even have to speak, the simple way he looked up at you adoringly was enough to soothe your tense nerves. 

“Sorry,” He bites out, biting his lips when he gently takes your wrists in his hands as he looks up at you, “Tell me if I’m going too fast, okay?” His words are so sweet you think that they must be dipped in honey. He can coax you out of any state you’re in and put you in a mindless trance. So the only thing you can do is nod as your hands fall back down to his naked chest, holding you up as he slowly reaches up.

Your breasts are soft against the rough padding of his fingertips after years of playing guitar, molding to his every touch and squeeze as your eyes flutter shut at the alien sensation. You feel him wanting to go slow, not wanting to push your boundaries as he flicked his thumb over your nipples. Your stomach clenches and he notes the movement, so he does it again, this time quicker, and to both of them. He can see how your lips are trembling, your hands gripping onto him with every fiber of your being. 

“So fucking pretty, holy - fuck,” It’s so soft that he feels that his jeans are growing obnoxiously tight, and everything around him seems to be spinning, “You're so s-soft and so fucking sweet, god, you’re gonna - gonna make me cum by just looking at you.” 

His hands trail up your back, pushing you a little bit down and he meets you halfway in another kiss, swiping his tongue against your lips as he groans at the taste of your spit, hungrily licking it up because he couldn’t get enough of it.

Precum stains his boxers as he feels your bare chest rub against his, your nipples driving him crazy as he cups your ass, grinding you on his dick as he kisses your neck, leaving wet splotches in his wake as he sucks marks along the line of your collarbone. The feeling is foreign to you, but each time he bites and sucks at your supple skin you feel yourself clench your thighs together, running your hand through his hair as you try to bring him closer, not able to get enough of the feeling.

“Wait, wait,” He stammers, stopping your hips as you whine against his neck, but he only smiles at your skin, kisses the top of your breasts as he tries to hold you in place, “I need to prep you first.”

And your brows furrowed in confusion at what that meant, but before you could even question him, Eddie’s grippe your thighs, flipping you around on the bed as you let out a little yelp at the sudden change. He moves so that your legs are in between his, and he gently spreads your knees apart, your breasts heaving up and down as you watch him flash you a little wink.

His hands move up to your stomach, stopping at the waistbands of your shorts as he looks up at you, waiting for your confirmation. When you give him a tentative nod, he gently tugs it down, giving you a knowing smile as you lift your legs up for him. You watch with a lovesick grin as he carefully folds them up, placing them to the side as he pats your knees, giving you a little kiss as his thumb runs dangerously low to your covered clit. 

“Polka dot panties, huh?” He murmurs and you groan, your hands going up to cover your eyes as he chuckles, “What? It’s cute, nothing to be ashamed about, sweetheart.”

You mutter something and he can't make it out, but he still smiles, letting go of your knee as he rests it out on the bed, relaxing down onto the covers as his fingers trail up your bare thighs, gripping and kneading them as he kisses the skin leading up to your most sensitive part. 

“Shit, this shit’s gonna drive me crazy, y’know that, right? Only thing I’m gonna think about for the next couple of months is this, and your skin that’s just so fucking s-soft, shit. Fuck, and this?” He cups your mound as you squirm around at the feeling, his fingers trailing up and down where your folds would be as presses down, a moan falling from his lips as he sees a wet patch forming between his fingers, “More fucking addictive than anything I’ve ever seen. Don’t think I’m ever gonna let you go after this, yeah? You’re so fucking perfect, you d-drive me crazy - fuck - every day, and you don’t even know it,” He presses a kiss to your cunt and your breathing nearly stips as he plays with the hem, “Think you’ll let me take these off for you sweetheart?” 

The only thing you can give him is a nod and a mess of words that fall from your lips as he gently tugs them down, your panties almost stuck to the slick that you’ve produced in these past couple of minutes as Eddie almost drops dead at the sight of your bare pussy. He tugs them down your legs, placing them next to your shorts as he takes in a shuddering heave.

You’re more beautiful than he could have ever imagined, and he knows that this is going to be a night he’ll never forget for the rest of his life. He watches as your walls flutter around nothing, your cunt clenching as you seem to just be waiting for him.

“Oh, f-fuck,” He mutters as he rubs at your essence, “You’re making a mess already and I haven’t even touched you. Shit, you’re gonna make me go crazy.” His pointer finger trails up and down your lips, and sweat little moans Espace your mouth as he continues to map out the delicate skin of your cunt. 

“Is it okay if I stretch you out a little bit? I have to prepare you, sweetheart, don’t wanna hurt you. I’ll be slow, okay?” He breathes deeply, his eyes turning a dark brown, almost black as he takes in the sight of your naked body lying underneath him.

“O-okay, Eddie, p-please…just touch me…” You can barely talk in your uneven breaths, and Eddie will gladly soak in that at a later time, but he knows that now is not the time to do it. So he obliges, taking his long finger as he gently and carefully pushes it into your pussy, the two of you letting out moans as he feels you instantly sucking him in. 

“Alright - oh shit, wait,” He stops, and you look back down at him to see him wringing the rings off of his rings, a little pile collecting in his palm after he’s done taking them all off. You watch as he looks around, not knowing where to put them as you wave your hand in front of his face. 

“I can be the ring bearer…if you want, of course.” You whisper, hating your choice of words as his eyes widen for a second. 

But then a boyish grin breaks onto his face as he gives you a slight nod, pulling your hand closer to him as he begins to stack the rings on different fingers, his own little system to where they all went. When he was done he could barely breathe straight and you had to tap his forehead to get him back into reality again.

“So fucking hot, damn,” He murmurs, kissing the back of your hand as he goes back to what he was doing, his bare and slender finger pushing past your entrance as he caught you off - guard, “Sweetheart, you’re - you’re so fucking tight,” He murmurs as he curls his finger a bit, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hits that spongy spot inside of you, “You're sucking in in s-so well, Y/n, you’re doing amazing, k-keep on doing that, fuck.” 

“E-Eddie…!” Your toes curl as he adds in another finger, his tongue finding your swollen clit as he gives it a slow kitten lick, his eyes widening as he laps up more and more of your sweet taste, “S-so good! Fuck, that’s so good…mph!” You try to muffle your cries with your hand, biting down on the back of it as he pumps his fingers in and out, your eyes never leaving the way a string of you connects his fingers to your entrance. 

He goes a little bit quicker, slurping around your clit as the obscene noise fills your ears, making you almost go numb until that was the only thing you could hear.

“Eddie, faster, go faster…please!” And it’s not like you to beg, you normally like working hard for something, but Eddie can’t even find it in himself to taunt you right now as you unravel so beautifully under him, your tits jiggling as you hopelessly ride his fingers. 

“Whatever you want.” 

So he quickened his pace, his fingers curling up and continuously hitting your g-spot as you grow wetter around him, his tongue coming down as his thumb occupies your swollen bundle of nerves. His muscle helps out with his fingers, whatever room there was left he swirling it around, feeling up your walls as your legs began to shudder around him. 

“F-fuck, Eddie, that feels so fucking good!” Your fingers move into his hair, wrapping around his curls as you begin to move him up and down, controlling the pace and where you want him to be as you wrap your legs around his torso. He can feel the coldness of his rings bite at his skin, the temperature difference making him hiss out, but he knows he can’t get enough of the feeling.

“Y-yeah? Well, I can fucking feel it. You’re soaking. Wouldn’t be surprised if my bedsheets are all ruined after this,” He kissed your clit as his fingers went even faster, “Go on - do it. Make a fucking a mess. I wanna see you cum. Wanna see you cum so bad. Come on, you can do it. You’re such a fucking good girl f’me, listening to everything I say.” He grubs as your walls clench around him even tighter, his tongue coating in your sweetness as he can't seem to get enough of the taste. 

It’s all so filthy, you mindlessly note. How he’s eating out like you were his last meal and he practically needs you to survive. Everything he’s doing is enough to make you grow wetter around him, and you know it’s only so much longer away until he drives you to your breaking point. 

“Eddie, I’m - I’m gonna…” Your tongue lolls out as you feel it all washing over you, your first climax of the night causing you to almost lose sense in everything that wasn’t focused on Eddie as you cum around his finger

“There you go, y-yeah, fuck! That’s it, come on princess.” He stammers, egging you on as you spasm around him, your cunt clenching down on him so tightly that you refuse to let him go. He can see white painting his fingers, and the sight of your cum almost makes him release himself all over his boxers, and it takes a lot of willpower to control himself as he slowly brings his finger out of your fluttering hole. 

“Holy fucking shit,” He whispers, looking at the mess underneath you as his eyes rake back up to you, “You good up there?” 

“Just p-peachy, Munson.” You say, mirroring his old words and he chuckles, crawling back up to you as his thumbs rub at your chin. He moves it down for you and you comply, feeling him stick his two fingers flat down on your tongue as you close your mouth around him. You moan at the tangy taste of yourself on him, swirling your tongue around him as his pants tighten at the feeling, everything about this just so fucking hot that he hopes he has it engrained in every single nook and cranny of his memory. 

“You’re gonna make me cream my pants if you keep doing that,” He whispers and you smile up innocently, your eyes wide as if to ask: me? 

He brings his fingers out as you release him with a pop, and he leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, your essence, your saliva, and everything else mixing with his as you two fall into a trance at the addicting taste.

He goes to say something but stops when he feels your hands trailing down, pawing at the zipper of his jeans as he almost collapses on top of you. 

But he controls himself, his hand circling around your wrist as he brings it up to his lips, kissing or fingers as he runs a hand adoringly across your cheeks, feeling like every emotion he’s been keeping to himself for so long was spilling out in his movements. 

“But…” You trail off, your lips turning into a frown in confusion as Eddie stops you, “I just want to help,” You cock a brow at the tent in his jeans, “And it really looks like you need it, Munson.” 

He laughs, kissing your forehead as he shakes his head in strange defiance. 

“As much as I would love, believe me, I would probably be over the moon any other day but,” He looks at you so adoringly, with so much care, and maybe even love in his eyes that you feel like you’re caught in a trance, “I don’t want you doing this for your first time, okay? Just let me take care of everything, yeah? And then…maybe, if you’d like, I can show you how to do it a-another time?” 

You nod against his lips, your hands curling around his neck as you bring him down, feeling like your chest is about to explode from everything he’s making you feel.

“Another time, really? You promise?” And you say it like you couldn’t believe he’d want to spend more time with you, however outrageous the thought is. Because in your mind you simply can’t fathom how somebody like him could want to make more space for you. Fuck, if only you knew he’d really attempt to move mountains (really, he would) if you asked him to.

“Oh,” He scoffs, his thumbs making little parentheses against the growing crown of your lips, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

You grin, and you slowly watch through half-lidded eyes as he ducks down, making another wet trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts, taking his time as he goes down to your stomach, his hands gripping at your love handles as he suddenly stops, remembering that he was still clothed waist down. 

He unbuckles his belt, slowly unraveling it from his jeans as he throws it aside into a corner of his room. Eddie then goes to his jeans, groaning slightly as he shuffles a bit, taking them off next as they join his belt. 

But what you were waiting for most was him as he found the top of his boxers, a bead of precum staining through them, a telltale sign that he must have been torturously edging himself this entire time. 

You watch him silently, your uneven breaths filling the air as he tugs them down, his cock springing free as he sighs in relief at the feeling. 

You didn’t know what to expect, school never really taught you much other than how to put a condom on, but it certainly wasn’t this. He was huge, and you were definitely sure that as much as your friend likes to rave about their boyfriends, Eddie would beat them all by a mile. 

He was long, a being traveling up to mean his angry, leaking head. There was a little tuft of brown curls waiting at his base, his ball sack hanging low as you licked your lips at the sight. It all happens in a matter of seconds but you feel like eons pass before Eddie does anything. 

“Remind me to buy some film, yeah? Wanna take a picture of you like this. Need something to give my wallet to some company.” 

“You’re a tease, Munson. You say this and you’d probably cream on the spot whenever you’d open it.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head as he swipes at your knees, the joyous smile on your face melting the apprehension in the room. He leans over your chest, looking for the drawer on his bedside table as he pulls it out, searching around for the box of condoms. 

He pulls it out, shaking the box a bit as you watch him visibly sink with disappointment.

“What?” You ask, worried at his sudden change in attitude.

“I’m out.” He murmurs in a dejecting tone as he sinks to his knees, his hair falling around his shoulder as he throws the box angrily at his lampshade. 

Your brows furrow as you sit up, resting back on your elbows as you fiddle with his necklace, moving his guitar pick around as you shrug, giving him a sheepish and wavering look as you pout a little bit. 

“Can't you just…pull out?” 

His eyes fall to yours as his lips part. 

“Pull out?” 

You squint, looking over to his window as you try not to smile.

“Yeah, just…pull out. Finish on my boobs or face, whatever you prefer.” 

Eddie’s mouth runs dry at the thought, huffing out a little laugh for your sake. Going raw in you for the first time, feel you all around him as he finishes in white ropes, marking you with his seed. It’s enough to put him in a little trance, and you have to snap in front of his face to snap him out of it. 

“That could work…right?” You watch as he nods slowly, thoughts running through his head as he gives a tentative nod at your idea. 

“It’s not safe, sweetheart. Don’t want to risk it.” He cups your face, his thumbs moving across your face as heat blossoms in their wake.

“I can take something tomorrow.” 

Eddie still looks unsure, but you move his jaw so that he is looking at you, not wanting him to get lost in his own little world as his thoughts spiral. 

“It’s okay, Eddie, p-please, just whatever you do… please just fuck me tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it if you d-dont.” It’s the truth because Eddie finally had his hold on you, and you didn't know that if he didn’t do it with you tonight if you’d ever be able to feel the same you were as you felt with him right now.

“Are you sure?” 

You nod, giving him a small smile as you crawl up to his lap, situating your entrance right above him as his eyes flutter shut as he feels his head running up against your bare cunt. 

“Never been more sure in my life.”

He groans, his hands coming back to your hips as he nods with you, giving up his resolve as he slowly pushes you down while moving himself up, a string of curses falling from his lips as he feels your wetness around him, the feeling of you clenching on his cock ingraining into both of your minds. 

“F-fuck! That’s so fucking amazing, I’m gonna, gonna go insane. You’re clenching so tightly, and fuck,” He whines at the way your cunt looks swallowing his dick whole, “You look so fucking beautiful right now, Y/n, wish I could take a picture. Wish this could last forever - shit - you’re t-tight. You have to let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He stays in you for a couple of seconds, wanting you to get adjusted to his size as your walls get used to him.

“Okay, okay Eddie…please, can you please just go f-faster?” He almost loses his grip on you as the words tumble out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, just,” He grips your ass, pulling you up as he gives up, losing all the control he had as he ushes up in you in one swift motion, dirty moans falling from your lips as his hips begin to thrust up into you, the feeling a little painful but deliriously amazing, “Fuck, sweetheart you- you feel so good! Better than anything I could have imagined. You’re so fucking perfect for me, j-just like you were made for this cock. You were, y-yeah? Made all for me?” You quickly nod against his neck, your wet lips finding his collarbone as you suck onto his skin, not knowing how to control your moans as he sets the pace for the two of you. 

“You’re so good, Eddie!” You cry, your eyes watering as little tears fall down your cheek, watching your chin as the salty flavor fall against his chest, “S’big, Eddie. S’big and so fucking g-good!”

“Oooh, fuck, you’re clenching down on me so fucking tightly, Y/n, just, just fuck,” He groans, his cock pulsating inside you as he feels your essence slick down to coat his balls, “Shit, you’re so dirty. This is so fucking dirty, yeah? You feeling g-good, sweetheart?” 

“S’good Eddie!” Your cry out, “I can’t - can’t feel anything other than your cock, Eds!” Your words slur together as his hand travels down to your clit, rubbing at it quickly as your eyes roll back at all the different sensations.

Your moans travel around him, filling up the room as he whines into your ear, biting at your lobe as everything becomes too much for him. The way your walls gripped up on him, the way his vein dragged up and down, his head continuously hitting your g-spot, you felt like you could die right here and die happy. 

It’s all so much as he continues to fuck into you, his dick filling you up so nicely that everything felt like a fever dream. 

“You’re clenching down on me so t-tightly. Are you gonna cum? Come on sweetheart, cum f’me, you can do it, fuck, I know you can…”

“Eddie! Eddie, I’m g-gonna, Eddie, I’m….ohhh!” You wail out, seeing white as your toes curl, your nails digging into his back as your climax suddenly hits you as you gush around him, spraying his abdomen as he almost collapses at the feeling of you cumming around him. 

“Fuck, fuck, holy mother of all that is g-good…” He pulls out, his own release painting your tits white, some of it spraying across your chin as he sets you down on the mattress, the two of you heaving heavily as try to come to terms with what just happened. 

He swipes at his cum, dragging his finger back up to your lips, just as he did before as you suck it off, the salty taste something you knew you’d get addicted to as you suck his pointer finger clean.

His eyes travel across your naked and wrecked body, how your release is spilled underneath you, tainting his bedsheets into a deeper color as your breasts are covered in what was left of him. Everything just looked so sinful, so wrong, and so unlike the two of you. But even with that, it all just felt so fucking good. 

“Hey, you there Munson?” You tapped his thigh, dragging your finger up and down the muscle as you massaged it a bit.

“In the flesh.” He teased, kissing you again as he taps your cheek, moving off of you as his dick grows soft. He looks around his bed for a clean towel and he grins in triumph when he finds his own, just fresh from the wash as he brings it up to your covered chest. 

He wipes at your face, smiling at your fuck out expression as he loving stares back at you. 

“Everything feel alright?” He asks, worried that he was too rough, too fast, and too mean for your first time, but you give him a happy shake of your head, your lips pulling back to reveal that gorgeous smile that always made his stomach flutter. 

“Better than alright.” You answer, your hands going to find him as you give it a little squeeze. 

Eddie stares at your chest until he clears his throat, finding your shirt as he passes it to you, covering up your exposed breasts almost as though he hadn’t been going crazy over them minutes ago.

Seconds pass, and now quiet fills the once loud room. The two of you can’t seem to bring yourself to speak in worry of ruining whatever flame it was that was just sparked moments ago. 

Years spent as friends never prepared the two of you for something like this. His chest and forehead are lined with sweat, and you doubt you look any better as you feel your mascara and eyeliner smudging underneath your eyes. Everything was just so filthy that it felt out of place for how sweet and innocent your friendship used to be. 

But the more you look at him the more your heart betrays you. 

In the moments between whatever that was, you saw glimpses of Eddie you could never see as just being his friend. You saw his slow and caring side, the one that made the feelings in you turn into a pulp of a ball because you knew nobody else would treat you with the tenderness Eddie Munson did. 

And so it freaked you out. What if you lost him after this? Would he even look at you? It’s difficult, you know, for the two of you to pretend like nothing ever happened. But it’s slow and impending as the realization hits you. It’s that you never want to forget this. You never want to forget the way Eddie Munson held you with such gentleness, or kissed you with such fever that you felt like you’d go dizzy if it wasn’t for his strong arms.

“Want your rings back?” You ask. It’s a simple question but it works to lighten the mood. You watch Eddie grin, looking at your hands bared in his own sort of mark as he shakes his head. 

“Hold on to them a little bit longer f’me?” 

You smile to yourself, twirling the pieces around on your fingers as you wait for him to say something else. You knew that if it came down to the two of you, Eddie was always more confident, but right now, he seemed more closed off than you’ve ever seen him. 

“So…what now?” You quietly say, your fingers fiddling with each other as you glance over at him.

The question hands heavy in the air as the two of you wonder the same thing. 

Eddie looks down, tenseness filling his shoulder that maybe this was it. This was the end of your friendship, and there was no way to recover from this because honestly, how could you? It’d be too awkward to continue as just friends, and he didn’t know if you felt the same way about him as he felt for you.

He didn’t want to lose you. He knew that if he had to, he’d just put this memory on the back burner. Pretend like it never happened. But the gut feeling in him, the one that perhaps even started this whole mess in the first place, was telling, no, begging him to continue. To see what happens if he pushes the limits of what “just friends” do.

“Well,” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes finding yours as he shot a tiny smile, “If you want… I can still live up to that Munson name. O-only if you want me to, of course.” He starts out, simple enough so that you could reject the idea if you didn't want to go any further. 

But your head tilts to the side, a hopeful smile making its way onto your face as something teasing gleams in the irises of your eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” Your brows raise as he nods, scoffing that you could even question the Munson name. Your question spurs him on more, and he chuckles, nodding at your sliver of doubt as his thumb rubs across your cheek.

“Yeah,” He pokes your side as you let out a little giggle, the two of you easing into something that was in between friends and something more, “I’d take you to the carnival, the one right outside Hawkins. I’d win you one of those obnoxiously big stuffed penguins because you’d want one, right?” You nod, giggling as he continues, some of his confidence returning as he steadies himself back down on the mattress, his hands moving quickly as he tries to paint the picture for you. 

“Then I’d take you for some ice cream. Or sundaes, if you’re up for it after all the popcorn I shove down your throat,” You laugh out loud, the sound carefree as your eyes are wide in clear joy, and Eddie can’t help but laugh too as he continues, “We can watch that new Tom Cruise movie, what is it, Top Gun? Yeah?” You’re laughing loudly at his silly antics, no longer worried about what’s going to happen because you want to see what Eddie’s going to do. 

“And after the movies, I can drop you off at your house, give you a little good night kiss as I sail home on my van.” 

You beam up at him, sitting on your knees as you try to match his height, pretending to contemplate and think about his most delightful offer as Eddie begins to wrap his arms around your waist. 

“That’s only if you’re willing to take a chance on me, though. Are you up for it, sweetheart?” 

And there was no possible way to say no to him as you leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you as you giggled against the kiss, your arms steadying themselves on his shoulder as you told him all he needed to know. 

“Never letting go of you, Munson. Said it yourself; I stick and never let go.” 

He chuckles into the kiss, his smile radiating, brighter than any light in the room as he held you there in his arms, not ready to let go of you because at that moment he knew he never could.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x you fluff #eddie x reader fluf #eddie x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie smut #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 2 #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you smut #eddie x you smut #eddie x reader fluff #eddie x fem!reader

[neowinestainedress]

‘CAUSE IT’S YOU | L.DH

TITLE: ‘cause it’s you PAIRING: lee haechan x fem!reader GENRE: hits different bonus, slice of life, fluff, smut, established relationship, relationship development, christmas, meeting the parents SUMMARY:  it’s been 3 years since you met, two since you started dating, but haechan still hits different. or; you and haechan spend your first real christmas together WARNINGS: smut, unprotected s*x (mc is on the pill), vibrat*r, getting caught, exhibitionism, edging, f!nger!ng, overstimulation, squ!rt!ng, dirty talk, praises, female joi, masturbati*n (f&m), voyeurism, n!pple play, the usual switchy dynamics, cheesy-romantic-love making, lots of kisses, l-bombs, aftercare, mentions of minor character death (before i get called a dumb bitch in the asks for not putting this), dealing with a loss and trauma, bi!haechanxbi!reader WC: 22.563k A/N: our favorite emotional support boyfriend is back! This was supposed to be a gift for the 4k followers this summer, but I didn’t finish writing it and I decided to give you tooth-rotting Christmas fluff and smut instead of another summer (on the coaAaAast). I’m excited and scared for this because when I was writing HD I wanted to show more after they got together (but it was too long), and then the story was such a hit (and felt complete anyway) that I wasn’t sure I wanted to write another part (or it was needed). I’m happy I didn’t finish it this summer because when I sat down for that, I feared I was right; it felt plotless, and I felt I was adding nothing to the story. Until I thought of this. I’m proud of how this came out because I feel this still has a valid plot and showcases the changes in their dynamics well. But since this is not supposed to top the original (it can’t) and I see it more as a bonus that’s optional to read, please take this as my 5k followers and Christmas gift for you! If you hated the mc in HD, this one is for you! I hope you can enjoy this, please let me know with reblogs (they help reach more people), comments and asks what you think about it! happy holidays ♡

“Where the hell are my panties?” You mutter under your breath as you look through the messy blankets with no success. 

“Babe, please,” Haechan mumbles, trying to push the sheets on his body and don’t freeze with each one of your tugs. 

“You know, you’re the reason I can never find my clothes, but you still never help me,” you groan, stopping to stare at him with your arms crossed. 

He raises a brow, and then his usual smirk curls his lips. “Three years and I still fuck you that good, you should be grateful.” 

You groan loudly before grabbing your pillow and hitting his face, eliciting a loud grunt. “You’re so annoying!” 

“Damn, laugh a bit,” he jokes, wrapping his hands around your body and pulling you flat on top of him. You’re face to face, his sleepy golden-brown eyes staring into yours and his lips pouting to leave wet kisses on your face. 

“Hyuck,” you complain, trying to pull away, but he flips you over, trapping you against the mattress, and going on with his sweet torture. 

“What? You’re not in a rush anymore,” he whispers as his kisses get less messy and move down on your body. “Can’t be lazy with me some more?” He lifts his hand up and you see he’s holding your panties. 

You gasp offended and he bursts out laughing. “You traitor! I went insane for five minutes trying to look for them!” 

“It’s funny seeing you do that every time.” 

You pout. “I hate you.” 

But Haechan smiles and leans in to leave a peck on your lips. “I love you, too.” 

“Give me them!” You scream, grabbing his hand and stealing your panties. “I wanted to make you breakfast, but no, you had to waste my time.” You push him off of you, and he just rolls to the side without complaining, still smiling as he follows you with his gaze. “Now you’ll have to wait.” 

He chuckles, moving to get comfy in the warmth of the bed. “Fine by me, I’ll wait.” 

You can’t hide the smile on your face, but you try to don’t show it by looking down, letting your hair cover your face, and pretending to be busy with your clothes. 

Haechan gets you now. He knows why you were always in a rush and that you don’t need to be anymore. He knows that now, behind your rush, there’s not the need to be as far away from him as possible but to prepare your favorite breakfast and slump in bed together to eat it. It’s just a habit you two picked. He learned you need habits; small things that keep you grounded, small moments you can always count on, and he doesn’t mind it. Actually, he likes it too, you are the calmness he needs in his rough sea. 

“Want me to help?” He asks once you’re done, ready to go in the kitchen. 

“No, I want to surprise you today. Stay here, I’ll be back soon,” you reply, smiling and sending him a kiss that he grabs swiftly before bringing it to his lips, making you chuckle. 

I’ll be back soon. 

It sounds wild in his ears if he thinks that just two years ago, every time you walked out of that door, he feared you weren’t going to come back. It’s even more insane when he stops and thinks you two are making it work. Looking back at your failed relationships, it’s safe to say that you both don’t strike as types to make a story last. 

Yet, here you are. On the bed, eating breakfast while you discuss your plans for the day. And then you’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth side by side, playfully fighting to have access first in front of the small sink, and then you’re in the shower, no funny business, just a quick wash before going out. Lastly, in your bedroom, you’re getting dressed to go out, picking each other’s fits, and finishing the last touches. 

Everything in your house. The one you two now share. 

Moving in felt like a sudden move, and when the moment came, Haechan had been the one who tried to stick to his old habits, too afraid that such a big change was going to scare you away. But Mark and Minjeong got more serious, and Haechan was always at your place anyway (to avoid suffocating so Mark wouldn’t hear every time you fucked). Also, as much as you loved the company of the couple, you two needed time alone, so he moved in five months ago. 

But all his worries got flushed away pretty soon. You needed stability and your habits, the small things that made you feel grounded. And since you had come to terms with his feelings for him, moving in only solidified your relationship because you could have all that. There was nothing left of the insecurity of your friends with benefits phase, there was something that was planting its roots to grow strong.  

Your place is still a temporary solution before looking for something nicer (not bigger, for now, the only family expansion plans are plants, a cat, and a dog). 

But it’s yours. The same house you built so hard, the one you kept secret like an oath, the one he couldn’t even step foot inside, is now his too. There’s his guitar in a corner of the living room, his computer next to yours, and the game console under the TV. His clothes beside yours in the closet, his shoes in the hall right next to yours, and his jacket at the entrance. The lamps you bought together, the plants you picked together, and even a big photo of you two framed above the television; Johnny took it without you noticing, and it quickly became your favorite, so it’s there, to let everyone know who lives there. 

And most importantly, there’s Haechan. There’s his laugh, filling your nights and days that used to be empty. There are his failed attempts at cooking. The books he tries to read every night, with no success, while you read yours. Just for him to end up with his head on your lap as your fingers run through his hair and you read yours out loud. There’s him hyping you up as you run on your treadmill, dancing and singing around you because that’s training too. Finally, there’s a beating heart to listen to as you fall asleep between two arms that hold you. 

“I can’t believe you don’t have Christmas decorations.” This is the tenth time Haechan makes that comment as you walk around the store with the cart almost full of Christmas stuff, and you can only roll your eyes at it. “I’m sorry, babe, but… why?” 

“I had nothing to celebrate,” you reply, stopping to look at the garlands, inspecting which one is better. 

“Not even last year?” 

“We were at your place, and usually Johnny drags me with his family, he knows I will fall into a vertigo of depression if I’m not distracted during this time,” you reply. It’s not painful to talk about it, but Haechan can hear the subtle shift in your voice and the way your eyes avoid his. He learned how to study your smallest reaction, it was the only way he could get deep into you, even after you started being serious, it wasn’t so easy for you to open up. 

“If you don’t want to, we can don’t celebrate,” he says, trying to meet your eyes, and when he does, they’re wide open. 

“Why? I’ve got you now,” you say, lifting in front of his face the two garlands you picked, putting the right one in the cart once he points at it. “Fuck my family, I’m not alone anymore. And I don’t want to be sad, I want to celebrate, and make my little traditions, have our Christmas.” 

A small chuckle leaves his lips at your words, but then he gets serious again. “Are you sure? I always fear you push your limits for me, and I don’t want you to break —” 

You stop him with a wave of hand. “Hyuck,” you say, smiling at him. “I’m fine. I’m better than I’ve ever been. I want this to be special. I’m not making your family come over to an empty house for the holidays.” 

His eyes widen. “Wait, you’re sure about that too? My mom tends to get carried away and she just —” 

“Oh, oh, Lee Donghyuck, are you perhaps the scared one?” You ask with a teasing smirk on your face and burst into a laugh when he blushes and turns his head low. “Oh my God, you are scared of this. You’re shitting yourself, just like when I proposed to move in with me.” You nudge him, but he slaps your arm away playfully, and then you start walking again. “Confess, you liked me better when I was the one that ran away.” 

“God no, any version of you, but never the one that slips from my fingers with no warning. It was traumatic,” he confesses, there’s a smile on his face, but in his eyes, you see that thinking about it still hurts him a bit, and you’re so deeply sorry. 

“Promise, never again,” you say, kissing his cheek. “So, tell me, what’s so scary about your family?” 

He sighs, rubbing his temples before you both look on the shelves to pick the decorations to put on the garlands. “They’re loud and loud… and loud.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I like that. What do they do? Talk a lot? Sing a lot?” 

“Sing a lot? You don’t want to know what we used to do. One year my sister even had a wardrobe of costumes to perform in front of us, I feared Mariah Carey was going to lose her yearly check.” 

You laugh at the image. And then caress his face. “Me, my brother, and Johnny used to do that too. Not with the costumes, I confess we weren’t at those levels, but nobody, I swear nobody, not even the pissy neighbor, could take away our performance. It was unfair because they would always make me play the elf, I was too short between those two giants,” you scoff, rolling your eyes before your laugh gets loud again when you remember something. “One year my brother almost got grounded because he had painted my face green using our mom’s make-up, it was so funny. She was so mad, but he couldn’t stop laughing because of me and Johnny.” 

Haechan laughs too, looking at you with softness in his eyes. You’re happy. You’re talking about your brother with a smile on your face, there’s no sign of a small twitch of your lips or the nervous playing with your fingers, just a genuine smile on your face. And you talk about him a lot, all the stupid things you used to do together, all the times he had your back, or when a song, movie, or book reminds you of him. A few months ago, you even showed him a photo book you kept stored under your bed and you talked for hours, some tears fell on your cheeks, but they were different from all the ones before. And Haechan is so happy to see you like this, to feel like your brother is still here with you, now that you don’t act like his death never happened, or his entire existence never happened. 

“The three of you were a menace. How did your families survive?” 

“I don’t know,” you giggle, looking at him, and smiling fondly. “I mean, without us, their lives would’ve been so boring. We always put a smile on their faces,” you say, and then sadness flashes in your eyes for a bit, but you wipe it away quickly. “You know, I wish that didn’t break my family apart. I wish my parents would’ve, I’m not saying I wanted them to fear losing me too, but at least cared about me more. Put the pride aside and welcome me back in, instead of pushing out their only child. I wish I could have them with me, laughing about the past… I mean, it’s not easy, and you know that I wasn’t like this until a year ago, but… don’t they feel like they’re grieving me too? I think I could still make them smile, I have so many stories about my brother that I haven’t told them yet. He could still live through us.” 

“I think they need more time,” Haechan says, reaching your hand that’s standing on the bar of the cart, rubbing your palm with his thumb like he always does when you need support. “But they will search for you again, more than the five texts you share in a year.” 

When he tells you that, you’re reminded of something you forgot to tell him a few days ago. “My mom sent me a recipe the other day, I thought she wanted to send it to one of her friends, but she wanted to send it to me.” 

“See? It’s a step forward unless she was foreshadowing that she’s going to kill you and cook you in the oven,” he jokes, making you laugh as you playfully push him away. 

“You’re always so stupid. Help me pick the last things, come on,” you say, changing the subject.

Yes, you can talk about this more freely, but you still need to chew on it, taking small bites, or else you’ll choke. 

You walk out of the kitchen with two hot mugs in your hands, just to find Haechan blankly staring at all the boxes on the floor with a confused expression, and you roll your eyes. “What now?” 

He lifts his head, walking toward you to grab his mug and leave a peck on your lips as a ‘thank you’ before he replies. “Don’t you think we went just a bit overboard? It’s too much.” 

“It’s not. And look, the tree is already up because you’re the best man ever and you were so quick at putting it together,” you say, batting your lashes, making him glare at you. “What? Can’t even praise you right, now?” 

“If you want my soul, I’m sad to inform you, you already have it,” Haechan says, pulling you in a hug before he kisses you again, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You chuckle when you pull away. 

“It looks like it’s a lot, but it’s not,” you try to reason. “Most of these are decorations that we need to put on the tree or on the garlands that you proposed we would make, together, as a lovely, madly in love couple.” 

“It wasn’t that cheesy when I proposed it,” he replies, grunting and scratching the back of his head.  

“Come on, I made you hot chocolate, and the biscuits are getting ready in the oven, we’ll put on some music, and we’ll have some fun,” you say, placing the cup on the coffee table to turn on the TV. “Are you sure you’re not having double thoughts about us?” You ask, stopping midway and looking as his eyes widen. 

“What? Why?” His voice comes out as a high-pitched squeal as he feels panic run through his body. 

“I don’t know, I thought Christmas was your favorite holiday and I wanted it to be special. But I feel like you’re not as excited as you are for other things and maybe you feel like we’re running or something…” you sigh. “Are you afraid I will disappoint your family? Maybe I’m not enough — I…”

“No, God, no,” he replies, shaking his head. “It’s just a lot, and I was wondering if we could get it all done this weekend, but it has nothing to do with us,” he says, walking to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“Hey, I love you, and I love this. Every little thing we’ve built and we’re building together. I admit I’m afraid for my family. Not a single ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend of mine ever met my parents so, yeah, this is a pretty big and scary step, but it’s with you. And truth be told, I’m not afraid because I don’t think this is serious, or because I think they won’t like you, confession time, my mom loves you already,” he says with a smile on his face. “I’m more scared you won’t like them, and well, that they will scare you away. I know you made some big steps forward, but… you still have your fears, and we both know sometimes they take over and sometimes you fall back into old habits. And it’s fine with me, I know how to deal with them and take care of you, but in this case, it’s not in my power, I can’t control them, and what if they say something wrong? What if they ask the wrong questions? I —”

You shut him with a kiss, pulling him close by the long hair covering his neck. “You sound just like me,” you joke, pulling away. “I know you don’t have control over them, I don’t need you to have it. I hope they can become my family too, and I’m ready to let them in, step by step. I’m so happy you worry so much about me, but I have it under control,” you laugh lightheartedly. “I don’t snap anymore when my brother is brought up, I don’t lie anymore, and I don’t run away. You taught me to always face my fears, right? And that’s what I’m doing. Maybe not all at once. Surely, I will need you to back me up at some point of the night, but I’ve got it, and I’ve got you, and… I’m ready.” 

The look in his eyes feels like home and so does the warm smile on his face. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even explain it in words,” he says, kissing you again. 

“I know you are,” you reply, caressing his face. “I mean, the fact you’ve been keeping up with me for three years says it all.” 

“Two,” he replies. 

“Nah–ah, you’ve been keeping up with my mood swings and fucked up coping mechanisms since you fucked me in your car, or maybe even since we talked that night. I mean, that was my first lie to you, so…” 

He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Mhh, maybe I should take you out tonight and make a stop there, our parking spot. Wouldn’t it be romantic?” 

“Mhh, yes, and then we can even smoke weed,” you add, laughing with him. “But I doubt we’ll be free from the Christmas tasks, so maybe next time?” 

“Yes, Miss. If my agenda is not booked, I’ll find a spot to slip you in,” he jokes before leaving a peck on your forehead and stepping back, going back to the boxes on the floor. 

You can’t control the smile on your face as you stare at him. This is your first holiday together and even if it has been a hell of a month for you in these past few years, you feel your heart explode with happiness right now. After everything he has done for you, you feel like you can finally pay him back, and do something that makes him happy. Haechan always told you how much he loves Christmas. Since he was a child, he felt that, after a year of sacrifices, his family could be together with fewer worries. It didn’t matter if there weren’t many gifts under the tree or no gifts at all, he was happy because his parents didn’t have to work, and they could pretend life wasn’t so hard for at least a few days. He also told you he loved how the cities would light up, and everything seemed better. 

“Will you help with the lights, or do I have to do it by myself?” 

You shake your head out of your thoughts and look up at him, shrugging. “No intention of doing so.” 

“Oh, come on, I will end up tangled in this mess,” he whines, pouting and looking at you with those big eyes you can’t resist. 

“Fine, but just because I really like you,” you say, walking to him, grabbing the other end of the lights. 

“Only like me?” He pouts as you both start walking around the tree, parting the branches to fit the lights in between them. 

“Mhh, sometimes I feel like I can barely stand you, so yeah, maybe liking you is too much, sorry about that,” you joke, making him scoff. 

Setting up the place with decorations was the plan, but with Haechan you learned nothing goes as planned. You’ve gotten used to it, it doesn’t trigger you anymore, not that much, especially when you find yourself in this situation. Laying on the floor with him on top of you, kissing along your jaw as his hand creeps under your sweatpants to reach your panties. That’s another thing you’ve gotten used to, the way, after years, you two still can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s surely different from what it was before, there’s no more fear, anger, and destructive passion when you two have sex, but the chemistry is still the same, just healthier. 

“Hyuck,” you moan when his finger teases your clit and slit, forcing your head to roll back on the cold hard ground. You could’ve easily moved this to the couch, but it was just easier to be there where you two ended up, the red decorations resting to the side, waiting to be finished. In your defence, you are almost halfway done; the tree is almost done, the small Santa clauses, reindeer, and trees are placed here and there on the shelves, and the strings of lights are running from corner to corner of the living room. 

“You’re so wet,” Haechan teases, trails of wet kisses painting your face before reaching your pouting lips, “I wonder why,” he jokes, his typical smirk sitting on his face as he looks at your face. 

Another thing you learned by dating Haechan, is that you will never get bored. He’s always thinking about something, coming up with ideas, planning things. He’s not much different from you after all, he simply doesn’t look over a plan more than twice (sometimes he doesn’t even get to the second time). This time it’s not any different. He was looking at you like a puppy that can’t wait to bite a bone, jumping on his seat on the floor as you two decorated with Christmas music filling the background. You know his eyes; when he looks at you without saying a word and just waits for you to catch up as if you can read his mind. You don’t get why he does it since he’s so impatient and surely not shy, but he finds it entertaining for some reason and you play along. 

“What?” You had asked, struggling to hide the amused grin on your face when his lips curved in a smile. 

“Want to try something new?” 

Those five words, followed by a bet to see how long you would last with a small bullet vibrator inside of you before begging for him to give you more, are the reason you’re so wet. You thought it would be funny and he would go gentle on you, but you were so wrong. And it took you less than fifteen minutes to beg for him to make it stop. 

“Don’t be so mad, I’m giving you what you want,” he pouts, kissing your puckered lips over and over. 

“You’re not. You’re teasing, like always,” you groan. 

“Am I?” he grins, pushing your hair back as he stares into your deadly glare. “Fine,” he groans, rolling his eyes back before bringing them back to you. “What do you want?” 

Another loud grunt slips past your lips, but you quickly force words to come out. “Your fingers, please,” the last word is filled with sarcasm, and he gives you a stern glare at which you only shrug. 

“You’re such a brat,” Haechan mocks, quickly flicking his fingers on your clit, watching with amusement as your eyes roll back and your teeth trap your lips to stop the loud moan to come out. “Is this enough?” 

“No,” you whine. “Take the toy out and fuck me,” you order, but you only get a mocking laugh in reply. 

“So bossy today. I let you decide so much already, I think you can leave this to me, uhm,” he teases as his fingers keep moving on your clit without giving you more. 

You sigh defeated and relax, your shoulders drop back as you decide to just enjoy the sensation of his stimulation, the filling of the toy, and the light vibrations. 

Just as he’s about to give you what you’ve been asking for, the loud sound of the doorbell stops you two in your tracks.

“Did you order something?” Haechan asks, hand still buried in your pants but still. 

You shake your head, shrugging, thinking it’s nothing and ready to beg him to keep going, but the bell rings again and you huff loudly. 

“The neighbor?” Haechan tries to guess again.

“She’s out, she told me a few days ago, it can’t — oh, goddamn,” you huff when it rings again. 

But your doubts are soon answered when the front door swings open and your heart jumps in your throat. 

“Is it possible that you two never hear the bell ring?” 

“Johnny!” You scream, pushing Haechan’s hand away and him off your body roughly, trying to fix yourself the best you can and get on your feet. 

“Oh, sorry,” your best friend looks at your dishevelled look with a grin on his face. “Interrupted something?” 

You groan and simply throw a pillow at him in response, but it does him no harm as he quickly catches it even if he only has one hand free. 

“No, we were decorating.” Haechan tries to save the situation, but you know it’s useless as you roll your head back and sigh again. Johnny’s not dumb, unfortunately.  

“Oh, is it a new slang? I didn’t know we call it like that nowadays, interesting,” he teases, walking toward the couch. “I always learn new things from you two.” He kisses your forehead, and you don’t even push him away, but rub your eyes when he passes over you to greet your boyfriend. 

“You can’t just burst in with no warning,” you sigh, turning around, watching as he studies the mess in the living room as if it’s his place. 

“I rang three times, not my fault your boyfie didn’t think of pulling his hand out of your pants,” he shrugs before lifting his head and smiling at you. 

“I’ll change the code, I swear,” you threaten, rubbing your temples. 

“And I will still know it in case of an emergency. Just because you got yourself the love of your life it doesn’t mean you downgrade me, hey!” 

Another loud annoyed sound comes out of your mouth, and you swiftly catch Haechan going red in the face after Johnny’s words, but you shake it off. “You wait for us to answer.” 

“You could’ve said ‘I’m coming’ or ‘wait a second’, you know? That’s what normal people do,” he reminds you, placing the bags he’s carrying on the floor to take off his coat, and placing it on the couch. 

“She swears it’s people that want to sell you something, so she looks out of the peephole and then pretends she’s not home,” Haechan explains. 

“Bullshits, she wanted to leave her best friend to freeze to death in the corridor,” he dramatizes, lifting a hand on his forehead and faking passing out on the couch. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you groan. “What do you even want?” 

“It’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other, and this is how you greet me?” He gasps offended. 

“Don’t laugh,” you say to Haechan, who immediately stops laughing and apologizes with a shrug. “I’m sorry. How can we help, my dearest friend?” 

“Fake,” Johnny gags. “But I brought you two something,” he says, patting the space on the couch for you to sit and then lifting two bags. 

“Christmas is two weeks away,” you say. You already have your gifts, of course you do, but you still need to wrap them up like you want to. So, you hope these are not your presents because you wouldn’t be ready to give him yours. 

“I know, it’s not a Christmas gift, it’s just a gift.” 

Haechan raises a brow. “For us?” 

“Yes,” he replies. “The first one is from my mom, it’s a cake.” 

“You should’ve said that right away,” you say, grabbing the box from his hands. “It’s so pretty, and it’s going to taste so good. Thank her!” 

“About that, you can do that if you come to my place tonight. I told her you won’t be with us this Christmas, she had a mental breakdown, so please, can you two don’t fuck tonight and come to my place?” 

“We’re not perverts, you know,” Haechan scoffs. 

“Not sure about that,” Johnny mumbles, and your boyfriend slaps his arm. “What? You two were never able to keep your hands off each other.” 

“Look at him, rewriting history. You didn’t notice we were fucking until she told you!” 

“Tell him, Hyuck,” you back him up from the kitchen where you’re placing the cake so it can be safe from the mess of the other room. 

“Fine, but I still know you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Anyway, can we focus? The sooner I’ll leave, the faster you’ll go back to what you were doing.” 

“Yeah, that’s — oh,” you stop, eyes widening when you hear the vibrations pick up again. “We’ll come.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Haechan mutters under his breath and you glare at him, silently telling him to don’t even think about it, but he only smiles smugly and shrugs. 

You clear your throat, trying to walk back to the couch as if nothing is going on, and urge Johnny to finish this soon. 

“And this is a bag full of things my mom wanted you to have,” he says, handing you the other. “I don’t think it’s necessary anymore, you two got yourself a lot of things, but yeah…” 

You grab it with shaky hands and look inside. 

“Will she cry?” Haechan asks, and at the same time, you feel the vibration stop, which makes you chuckle under your breath with your head low. It’s sweet that he thinks adding fighting an orgasm to a breakdown is not a good idea. 

Johnny thinks about it, leaning to the side to look at you, and then hums. “Probably.” 

“I’ll take a look at this after, so I can break down crying with him alone,” you say, getting up, and stretching your arms out to hug Johnny. It’s your nice way to tell him you’re grateful, but also, he needs to leave. And it would work smoothly if only Haechan didn’t have other plans. 

“We baked cookies, why don’t you stay for a while? What about a cup of coffee too?” 

You glare at Haechan again when the vibrations start high, leaving you breathless, but quickly force yourself to smile at your friend. 

“Yes, I love cookies and coffee!” Johnny cheers, wrapping an arm around Haechan as he guides him to the kitchen.

“Of course you do…” you whisper under your breath, rubbing your temples and following them in the kitchen. 

You sit on a chair, hoping to bring yourself as little attention as possible, and that if you keep your thighs pressed enough you won’t come in your pants in front of your best friend. But Haechan is not exactly helping you, shifting the speed and waves so that you can’t ever get used to the sensation. 

“The cookies are amazing,” Johnny moans after a bite and you try to give him a gentle smile. 

“Thanks,” you dare to speak out, surprising yourself when you do with no sign of desperation. 

“The place is coming together nicely, by the way,” he comments, walking to sit in front of you. 

“We didn’t put up a lot, just the smallest things on the furniture,” Haechan comments, “and the tree, but well, we didn’t put on the balls so it’s empty.” 

“Shit,” you cry out when he rises the speed, but you quickly play it cool by holding the back of your leg, “a cramp.” 

Johnny’s eyebrows are raised in suspicion, not by your poor acting, but because Haechan isn’t on his knees in front of you in two seconds to make sure you’re alright, but he shrugs it away when your boyfriend asks if you need help. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, stretching your leg to keep playing the part and massaging the ‘sore’ muscle.  

“So, what time should we be there tonight?” Haechan asks, and you hear he’s trying hard not to laugh. 

“Seven, so my mom can annoy you with questions before dinner and then we can start and eat in peace,” Johnny says, thanking Haechan when he brings the coffee cup to the table. 

“Your mom’s nice,” Haechan says, “and she’s an amazing cook. She will cook tonight, right?” 

“Hey! I’m good too. But yes, she insisted, so the kitchen is all hers,” Johnny huffs, “even if I will hear her complain because my things are not where she would keep them.” 

You try to laugh but quickly turn it into a silent giggle when you feel you can’t hold the sounds in easily anymore. Haechan’s hand is not in the pocket of his pants, busy preparing the last two cups of coffee, but the vibrations are stuck at the highest speed, and you’re squirming on the chair, nervously twitching your legs. 

“I saw Mark and Minjeong yesterday,” Johnny changes the subject as he suddenly remembers. “We should organize something all together before the holidays. It’s been what? One month now, since we’ve all been out together?” 

“We actually hung out with them last week,” Haechan says. “They finished remaking our old place and wanted us over.” 

“Y’all are cutting me out of your lives, I don’t like this,” Johnny complains. 

You roll your eyes. “We’re not,” you spit out, as fast as you can, so no shakiness slips from your lips. And then mutter a “Thanks,” to Haechan when he hands you the cup and then sits next to you. 

“It’s just because it was my place before, they wanted me to see the changes,” Haechan explains. “But I think they’re planning something with all of us soon. They’re just… busy.” 

Johnny quirks a brow. “Busy like you two bunnies or busy, busy?” 

“Shut up!” You scream, glaring at him. But can you blame him? Right now, you two are proving his point. He just doesn’t know it. 

“I’m kidding,” Johnny says, lifting his hands in the air before grabbing another cookie. “I know they are, Minjeong just changed her job, and Mark is Mark. But we should find a free weekend or something, we could even go to my beach house for New Year’s.” 

“Yeah, why not,” you force out, one hand slipping under the table to squeeze Haechan’s thighs, telling him to lower the speed, but it’s useless, he acts as if you’re not even there. 

“Can I change roommate this time? This one right here is a bit too clingy,” Haechan jokes, pointing at you with his head, making Johnny laugh. 

You force out a small laugh, rubbing your sweaty palm against your neck to fill your silence with something. 

“Man, I really need to find somebody,” Johnny sighs heavily, letting his head fall against the table theatrically. “You sweet couples make me feel so lonely.” 

“Weren’t you going out with,” you stop, pretending to think of her name but, in reality, you’re trying to collect yourself and don’t focus on the pulsing of your pussy. “Hana?” 

Johnny lifts his head and pouts. “We fucked.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it’s great, don’t get me wrong. But I’m too old for that, I want to settle down.” His hand points at your living room. “That shit out there? The cheesy lovemaking while setting up the place for Christmas? The way y’all live together? I can’t believe your cold-ass heart got it before me. I was Mr. Romantic, and look at me.” 

You chuckle tenderly, caressing his hand, trying not to make it shake. “And… will it just be sex?” 

“It’s not even exclusive. But it doesn’t matter ‘cause I broke it off,” he pouts. 

“You’ll find someone,” Haechan chimes in. “You are husband material, it’s impossible you’ll stay single much longer.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffs before his gaze falls on the clock. “Shit, I’m late, I have to go,” he says, jumping off the chair and walking to the living room. Haechan is quicker than you at following outside, but you feel like your knees could give up in two seconds, and you keep your hands tight in a fist, leaning against the door, watching him get dressed. “Thanks for the biscuits and the coffee, I had fun. See you tonight.”

“Bye! See you later,” you two greet, waving with your hands after he quickly hugs and kisses you both.  

When Johnny is out of the door, you jump on Haechan, and he laughs. “You’re a monster. This is not funny!” 

“A monster? You had fun, brat,” he teases, kissing you as he lifts you, walking into the living room, this time laying you on the couch. “And I won’t tease you anymore, I’ll give you what you want. But then we really have to wrap something up here and then get ready for dinner.” 

This time he’s true to his word, quickly pulling your pants and panties down before leaning down between your legs, leaving pecks on your thighs before he kisses your clit, making your hips jolt. 

A shaky sigh comes out of your lips when he pulls the toy out of you, leaving you empty before his fingers take its place without teasing. Your head rolls behind, this time meeting the softness of the couch, and your hands reach his arms, wrapping around them to hold onto something. 

“You’re even wetter now,” he teases, looking down between your legs. Your cum dripping down, making a mess on your ass and his fingers. “You’re such a tease, you know? You can’t even deny how much having people watching or listening turns you on.” 

You groan, hiding your face against the couch because all the teasing before already made it impossible for you to properly talk back. 

“Look at me,” Haechan orders, but you shake your head. He scoffs, cupping your chin to turn your face around. “You’re such a brat today.” 

You scoff, “me?” 

“Yes, you,” he whispers close to your face, lips brushing against yours as a tease but leaving you without the kiss you crave so much. “Think I didn’t see you before? Sitting on your heels, desperately trying to get off without me noticing,” he mocks with a chuckle. “I have to say, you were smart, talking to me and distracting me, thinking I’m stupid. But I saw that, angel.” 

Your body burns up in shame, and you once again try to hide, but his hold is firm, and you soon give up. 

“Is this what you want? Are my fingers fucking you well?” He murmurs, biting your earlobe, making you moan louder. 

“Ye-yes,” you cry out, planting your feet against the couch to have a solid hold as you grind your hips against him. 

“Look at you,” he mocks, pulling back from your face, letting go of it to wrap a hand around your waist and push it down, eliciting another whiny complaint from you. “I guess they’re not enough if you’re grinding on them like that.” 

You shake your head. “They are, I swear,” your voice breaks when his thumb presses against your clit, and your thighs fly shut. 

“Oh no, baby,” he scolds, forcibly pushing your legs apart with his hand. “Keep those pretty legs open for me, you’re not going anywhere.” 

“Please,” you cry out. “You edged me all afternoon.” 

He laughs, throwing his head back. “All afternoon? Damn, sex really gets to your brain. If it’s been an hour, it’s a lot.” 

You frown, trying to glare at him, but the furrow on your face only makes him smile. 

“Fine, fine. It looks like you really want to come, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you reply weakly, but he doesn’t do anything. 

“Just a bit more. You’re just so pretty like this. And your pussy squeezes so nicely around my fingers, these beautiful sounds,” he hums, pressing against your sweet spot, forcing more cum out of you in dirty squelches. And the lust in his voice just pushes you even closer to the edge. 

“Haechan,” you cry out, eyes closing as your chest heavies more. 

“Use your words, babe. You can do it.” 

And you would do it easily if only his fingers didn’t pick up a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping for air as your eyes stare into his, the fake innocence and smugness behind them driving you insane. 

“Hyuck, please, fuck, please let me come.” 

“Mhh, you sound so pretty,” he coos happily. “Come on, I teased you enough. Come for me.” 

And you do, finally letting go of all the pleasure you’ve been holding in for so long; it doesn’t matter if it’s the entire afternoon or just an hour. Your body trembles against his, your thighs would clench if only it wasn’t for his hand keeping you spread open, and your head rolls back as loud moans slip out. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Haechan moans, slowing down the pace of his fingers inside of you once he makes sure you’re done and then slowly takes them out. 

“Kiss me!” You order, pulling him closer. 

“You’re so bossy today,” he laughs when he moves away from the kiss, and you pout. 

“I need you.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He kisses you again. “Let me get out of my clothes, alright?” You hum, watching him get up to get out of his pants and underwear before trapping your body again. His lips meet yours, and your fingers run in his long hair, pulling hard enough to make him moan and rut his hips against you, but not enough to hurt him. 

“Shit, turn around,” he orders, moving back enough to give you space to move as he helps you get in the position he wants. 

When your face presses against the couch and your hips swing side by side, you hear him inhale deeply and mumble a curse under his breath. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan comments, hands cupping your ass before he leans in, kissing your neck. 

“Please, fuck me,” you beg, ordering in a whiny voice. 

“So fucking desperate,” he mocks, slapping your ass before placing a hand at the side of your face to keep his body up. The other grabs the base of his dick, the leaking tip pushing against your awaiting slit.

You moan shamelessly, driving your hips back, thinking he’s finally going to sink in, but he doesn’t. He rubs the head on your clit, making you shiver, tremble and whine. 

“Please, don’t,” you cry, but he only laughs mockingly at you. 

“Look at you,” Haechan taunts. “How long has it been? One week?” 

“Two,” you mutter angrily. “Two weeks.” It’s not about the sex, per se, but you two have been so busy with work lately that you’ve barely had time to be together. Last week, he did go down on you, but it was quick since he had a phone call, and you didn’t even get the after-cuddles you love so much.  

He snickers, throwing his head back as he keeps teasing, this time pushing the tip in and out, watching your hole stretch and then clench around nothing. “Sorry, sorry. You don’t want my mouth or fingers, you want my dick. Still,” he lowers, hot breath hitting your ear, “don’t you think it’s a bit pathetic after two weeks to be so desperate for me?” 

You shake your head, biting your lips, moving your hips to grind against him and force him inside you somehow, but all with no success. 

“Can you humiliate yourself even more, love?” He jokes. 

“Hyuck,” you whine, searching for his hand. “Yes, I’m pathetic for you, are you happy now? Can you please fuck me? Or do I have to — fuck!” Your complaint gets shut down when he pushes into you, you’re so wet and relaxed he does it with no struggle, filling you deeply and leaving you breathless. 

“Happy now?” 

You nod quickly, smiling widely but letting out no words. 

“Good, so something does satisfy you,” he groans, head falling back as he holds onto your hips. 

You whine, wanting to scream that anything he does satisfies you and that you’re not that greedy, but you let it slip. 

And then it comes, his face hides in the crook of your neck and one of his arms sneaks around you, keeping you close. And you love this, it drives you crazy to know you can have the roughest sex and most mind-blowing orgasms of your life while still being loved and cherished so much. You love it so much that you don’t push him away anymore, but let him sink deeper. All over you. Deep into you. 

“Hyuck,” you call out his name, hand moving behind to search for his skin, and finding an arm. 

“I know, babe, I know.” His lips leave kisses over your jawline, biting softly every now and then, and his eyes roll back when you clench around him. “Am I fucking you good?” He hums, moving your hair away so he can see your face. “Deep and nice, just like you love it?” 

You nod in quick motions. Body squirming under his before it stills when you feel the toy press against your clit again and buzz against you. You let out a high-pitched cry, face pressing against the couch as your fingers fist the soft fabric.  

“Hush, babe,” Haechan whispers against your ear. “We both know you love this.” 

“Yes, but —” the words die in your throat.

“But, what?” He teases. “What’s wrong, honey?” He coos in a patronizing tone, and you groan. 

He knows how easily you come when you use any type of vibrator. He has seen you come undone with them so many times you’ve lost the count. And he knows it’s even worse when he’s deep inside of you, hitting all your right spots while the vibrating toy keeps stimulating your sensitive clit. 

“You — you know what,” you whine, trying to look back to pity him. 

His movements stop completely, and the warmth of his body leaves you except the hand on your waist. “Mh, no, I don’t think I do.” 

You whine louder, hips jerking up to urge him to pick up his thrusts again, and he does, snapping in and out of you like before. 

“So, you won’t help me? I’ll have to find out the problem on my own?” He teases. “But… you want this faster?” 

“No!” You yelp when he puts the toy at the highest setting, making you try to close your legs but with no success. “Hyuck, please,” your voice breaks, tears menacing to run down your face as you feel another orgasm build up in your stomach, fist closing incredibly tight around the pillow of the couch. 

“Oh… my bad. Does it make you come too easily?” Haechan says, faking a tone of surprise as he leans closer to you, finally giving you the warmth of his body again. It’s funny how you avoided contact before, and how much you need it now. 

 You nod swiftly, biting your lips to muffle the messy moans. 

“And my baby doesn’t want that?” He pouts, caressing your hair out of your forehead. “You were so mad I edged you for so long and now you don’t — fuck — want to come over and over again?” 

You don’t answer, not with coherent words at least, and groan again. 

“You can take it, I know you can,” he groans, inhaling deeply as he lifts his body and throws his head back. He teases you a lot but he’s just as sensitive and desperate. Two weeks too long since he had you, and your body is so responsive, clenching and dripping around him, making him go insane too. 

“Let’s come together, ugh?” He moans. “Then I’ll fuck my cum deep inside of you and you’ll come just one last time.” 

A guttural moan slips from your mouth at his words, the idea of him fucking his cum into you over and over until he’ll fill you up with another load driving you insane. 

“Close,” you mutter. 

“Yeah, me too,” he groans, “come.”

Your body lets go, orgasm setting free like a trigger, sending shivers down your spine. Your lips are free from the hold of your teeth, not caring if you’re too loud and someone might hear. It feels too good to hold back. Not only for the pleasure itself, but for the way your boyfriend’s hands run on your hot skin, how his moans and whimpers fill your ears, and especially the sensation of his cum filling you up. When his hips still against you, and his whole body presses you down, you’re still shaking from the aftermath. 

Your eyes flutter shut when he starts moving again, barely giving you the time to come down from your high. 

“You feel so good, I could stay buried in this sweet pussy for days,” Haechan moans, hiding in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and leaving kisses on your skin. 

You moan, letting your body relax to the feeling of him being all over you. One arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand roams around your body, caressing your stomach, your boobs, your thighs, everything he can find. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he comments when he lifts his head, not enough to unstuck his chest from your back but enough to look at your wrecked face. “Most beautiful thing in the world.” 

You melt at his comments, feeling warmth in your stomach, this time not given by pleasure but love. You are loved, wholeheartedly, completely, and endlessly. Every part of you, every flaw, every masterpiece. Haechan doesn’t leave anything behind. He loves you. Deeply. Constantly. Inhumanly. Because you still can’t believe it’s possible for someone to love so much, especially when it comes to you. But he proves it to you every single day, from the sweet words to these passionate moments. 

“Ki-kiss me,” you mumble, pouting until his lips are on yours. The position is a bit uncomfortable but you two make it work anyway. Kissing each other over again, going from deep kisses to pecks. 

“Fuck, pretty,” he groans. “You’re taking me so well. My dick stretching you out, my cum filling you up, so much of it we’re making a mess. You love being my messy princess, don’t you?” 

You nod. “Yes — yes, love it.” 

“I know, princess, I know. Dripping all the way down my balls, drooling on the couch, staining it with your pretty tears.” Now that you’ve opened up to him and cried more than just once in front of him, he loves these tears even more because they are good tears, caused by him not because he’s hurting you but because he’s making you feel good. And he’s obsessed with it, with the way your eyes look. Long lashes clumped together, looking even thicker and longer. 

You’re about to beg him to go faster, but he obeys without you opening your mouth. Hips snapping fast against you, body pushing you even further against the soft couch. 

A small giggle escapes your lips when his hand searches and then finds your hand, intertwining your fingers while the other cups your ass cheek before leaving a small slap. 

“Shit, ever told you I fucking love your ass?” 

You hum, nodding. You’d use some words, but the bliss is too strong to let you do anything other than whimpering and moaning. Your clit is swollen, throbbing hard, extra sensitive with all the vibrations of the toy before, and each slap of Haechan’s balls against it leaves you gasping for air. 

Your hips squirm away, there’s not much room to go since your head is already pressed between the seat and the armrest, but you still slip a bit forward and Haechan chuckles darkly close to your ear. 

“Running away, sweetheart?” The condescending, saccharin-sweet tone makes more shivers run down your spine, toes curling up and stomach twisting. 

Your head moves in incoherent movement, and your hand holds his tighter for support. You feel like your head is spinning, and if it seemed like a good idea to keep the sweater on, now it feels like hell is on your skin. 

“You can take it, can’t you?” He asks, voice genuinely sweet this time, but his body is not more clement with you. The harsh sounds of his pounding are still filling the room, drowning out the Christmas music that’s still playing on the TV — thank god the playlist moved to an instrumental one, or some classics would be ruined forever with these filthy moments in your mind. 

You nod, but he’s not happy with a non-verbal question. Unless you’re fucked out, completely fucked out, he wants to hear your voice when he asks if you can take more. 

“Words. I need words,” Haechan reminds you a bit more sternly, and you whine. “Come on, talk now, ‘cause soon that pretty mouth of yours will be stuffed full.” 

With the risk of choking on your own saliva, you let out a barely audible “yes.” 

“Good girl, that’s my good girl,” he praises with a long hum, caressing your burning hot cheek before ordering you around again. “Open those pretty lips for me, will you?” 

You obey with no hesitation, ready to take anything he gives you. And when two fingers press down your tongue your mouth immediately closes to suck on them, eyes fluttering shut, pussy clenching around him and ass arching up. 

“Fuck, knew you would’ve loved this,” he groans. 

Over the years, you realized Haechan loves doing this. To you, it’s funny because he rarely lets you go down on him, always whining because he has to eat you out, so 80% of the time, when it’s time for oral, you’re always on the receiving end. You don’t complain, you honestly think it’s a blessing he’s so obsessed with eating you out, but you don’t understand why he’s obsessed with watching you suck his fingers and not as obsessed with watching you suck his cock.

His moans get louder and whinier and you feel your stomach turn upside down and your core get even wetter. You almost bite him when his other hand moves from your hips to your clit, rubbing it, making you arch your ass up at the overstimulation. 

Your wet eyes look up at him, begging him for release, but there’s not much to beg since you’re squeezing him, and he’s overstimulated too. 

When his fingers leave your mouth, you gasp, taking in all the air, and start slurring his name. “Hyuck, Hyuck, please, wanna — wanna come, please.” 

He leans down, kissing you. It’s a messy, wet kiss, with lips and teeth clashing, and your hand desperately reach for his body. “Come with me, princess. You deserve it.” 

The orgasm breaks through you, a tingling sensation of pleasure running through your bones making you squirm against his body pressing you down. With one last strong thrust inside of you, you can’t control the jet of liquid squirting out of you. 

A string of curses comes out of you, but Haechan is quick at shutting it up with more messy kisses and quick movements to ride the pleasure out. “It’s alright, you’re alright, you’re alright, babe. Shh, calm down, it’s fine. You did great.” 

Your body slumps against the fabric and you let the warmth of his skin warm you up as you come down from the high. Haechan never stops whispering sweet words in your ear, kissing and caressing you, as he slowly — and reluctantly — pulls out of you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs when cum starts spilling out of you. “We made a mess.” 

You chuckle, shrugging. “We’ll clean it up,” you say. “Later.” 

He laughs, but turns you around, after laying against the backrest, pulling you close to him. “Want some well-deserved cuddles?” 

“Yes please.”

“Will you see what’s in the bag?” Haechan asks when he comes out of your bedroom, all cleaned up after the shower you quickly took together, and sees you stare down at the brown bag Johnny brought. 

You shrug. You don’t know what’s inside, you could barely get a glimpse when you peeked before, but something makes you fear there will be too many memories, and you’re not sure you’re ready for them all. 

Your head turns around when you feel the couch bend with Haechan’s weight, and it immediately finds his shoulder to rest. His arm wraps around you, sneaking under your sweater to rub your skin, and you sigh. 

“You don’t have to, not right now,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.  

“But I do, I have to see her tonight, and I want to thank her.” 

“Okay but if anything triggers you, promise me you’ll stop?” 

“Promise,” you reply and then you flip it over on the floor. You can feel Haechan’s persistent gaze on you and you feel some sadness wash over you, but you feel fine for now. And then a smile appears on your face. 

“I didn’t know she had our socks,” you say, grabbing the red stockings with reindeer and elves, and studying them. The fabric it’s a bit ruined over time, but they still look the same, and you can still picture them hanging, either on Johnny’s fireplace or on the furniture your family put them on. Your fingers graze over your brother’s name and you smile fondly. “Can we hang them? So I… so I can pretend there will be something for him too?” You ask, turning to Haechan that’s already apprehensively staring at you. 

“Of course, we can even fill his with something, if you want to,” he proposes, but you shake your head. The idea of the gifts being left there would just make you sad, but this is a good compromise. 

“Our scarves!” You bend over to grab them. “We knitted them, and I think you can see it,” you chuckle, fingers running over the bumps in the wool and other imprecision. 

“Better than me if I would try now. My mom is excellent at it, she made me try once and I made way worse than this,” Haechan says, grabbing the other scarf and noticing that it’s not perfect but not even terrible. 

“I’ll keep in mind to ask your mom for this one,” you say, cuddling up to him. 

“Nope, you won’t,” he jokes, shaking his head with vigor, slightly blushing. 

There are other things in there, but mostly decorations, there’s even a Christmas decoration that you loved when you were a kid, and you’re so grateful she gifted it to you. But then Haechan is attracted by something else. “What is this?” he asks, lifting a gingerbread plush, and your heart sinks in your chest. 

Not a word comes out of your mouth for almost a minute, as you try to get some saliva in your mouth. “It’s — it’s me…” 

Haechan studies your expression and immediately puts it away, but you stop him. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble. “I just… I need time…” 

“I don’t need to know, it’s fine, really,” he reassures you, touching your hand, but you shake your head. 

“No, I want to,” you say. You wet your lips and fidget with your fingers before taking the plush in your hesitant hands.  

“It’s not a Christmas gift, but it’s the last gift I got from him… a few days before his death. He called me gingerbread because I was obsessed with gingerbread men as a kid. Honestly, I was terrorized by them, they were men, I thought I was committing cannibalism, but then I tried one and I loved being a cannibal,” you chuckle, voice shaking as you fight back tears. “And when I grew older, I wanted to make them myself, I wanted them to be our family thing, but they never became one. My parents worked until the 24th and didn’t have time to wake up early and make them with me, so it was only me and my brother. He would always wake up early with me and help me make them.” 

“You didn’t make gingerbread men today,” Haechan points out. 

“No, those are for the Eve and Christmas,” you say resolutely. “Don’t worry, I will make them for you,” you giggle, and he smiles. 

“Go on, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine. I would be worried sick too to be left without my cookies,” you joke before turning serious. “A week before his death he walked in a street market and saw this,” you shake the plush in your hands and smile, “and he gifted it to me. He told me that it wasn’t Christmas, so that was a sign that he had to buy it for me and that it was scandalous that in fifteen years he never gifted me anything related to gingerbread men. And I remember that… I laughed so much when I saw it because it’s cute but also weird. The eyes are slightly not on the same level, the smile is funny, and the white lines are all different, this one doesn’t even reach the seam. And he told me that that made it even more special and that I’ve never been normal, so it was even more me.” 

“It looks like you now that I look better at it,” Haechan says, there’s a hint of irony but also sweetness in his voice.

You chuckle, wiping away a tear. “He used to often remind me he would always protect me, but when he gave me that, there was something different. And even if that was me, it was almost his way of telling me that he was always going to be with me, that’s why he had bought two. But his one was normal, and he kept it in the car.” 

“You can stop,” Haechan says as soon as he guesses when this is going, but you shake your head. 

“I held onto this toy for days at the hospital and it was the last thing he held before he… well… you know.” Your voice is broken by tears, the same ones that are rolling down your cheeks, but you’re fine. “I hated this, I hated that his got lost, destroyed, I don’t know, I… never dared to watch the conditions of the car after. I hated it because it was supposed to be me and this gingerbread man, not him. I hated it because it had lost his other half but didn’t feel half the pain I felt. So I threw it away.” 

“But…” 

“Is still here… yes. Because it’s me, and I survived,” you say, chuckling. “No, I’m kidding, no paranormal shits, it’s simply Johnny, I guess. He always knew what was better, and he must’ve kept it to the side, waiting for the right moment to bring it back to me.” 

Haechan hums, his thumb still caressing your palm. “Are you mad?” 

You raise your head, wiping away the tears. “No, I’m glad he always knows what to do with me. If you think you met me at my worst, you have no idea what Johnny had to go through when it all happened. He had to see the joyful, reckless, funny little girl he always knew turn into a cryptic, scheming, and cold woman from day to night and still decided to stick with me. He saw me at my worst, literally…” you breathe out. Another reason why you don’t like to think about back then is because you hate who you were. 

“You deserved him, you deserved to have someone that didn’t judge you or blame you.” 

You shrug. “I don’t know… I gave him a good dose of shit to deal with, as if he wasn’t mourning my brother too.” 

“You know, from all these conversations we had over the past months, and after I could see what you have with Johnny from a closer point of view, I think you’re missing something.” 

“Me?” 

Haechan nods. 

Your lips twitch in a wince, it’s been a while since Haechan taught you a life lesson, but usually you can see where he’s going, right now, you have no idea. “And what is it?” 

“You always say that Johnny is like your brother, but Johnny is your brother. The three of you were raised together, his mom loves you as if you’re her daughter, and we all know that your brother trusted him with you so much that Johnny promised him to always keep you safe. Johnny didn’t choose to stay because he’s a good friend, but because you’re his sister, and because after losing his brother, he wasn’t going to lose you too. Maybe you hurt him, I truly don’t know what you two have been through, but he loves you so unconditionally that I’m sure he doesn’t regret it. And he would stick by your side over and over again.” 

You smile fondly and hum. “You’re right, but I guess I’ll never get free of my guilt, will I? I mean, I still feel so bad for everything I put you through, no amount of good things happening between us makes me feel at peace with myself.” 

“Not to take your therapist’s place but remember what she told you? Why you love to punish yourself for every little thing?” 

You pout, nodding silently. Your awareness of you not being the cause of your brother’s death didn’t make the deepest parts of you aware in the same way. Something unconscious was still screaming at you, urging you to punish yourself even when there was forgiveness from the other side. 

“Can you hug me? I don’t know what else to say,” you confess, and he smiles at you, pulling you into a hug. It lasts for minutes. Minutes of silence, heartbeats, and nothing more. Comfort. Peace. Healing. And when it breaks apart, you smile, feeling another brick of your walls falling down. 

“Do you want to put this in a nice place or are you using it to take over your anger?” 

You smile, grabbing the plush. “I want to put it somewhere nice.”

You never felt so much anxiety run through your bones as you do right now; pacing back and forth in the living room, staring obsessively at the clock, waiting to hear the ring of the bell that will mean such a big change for you. 

You might’ve underestimated what meeting your boyfriend’s parents (and family) truly meant. All the hype you had until two weeks ago, disappeared when you remembered you had never met any of your partner’s parents before. 

“Okay, enough.” Haechan jumps off the couch and stops you midway, blocking your arms. “I usually let you do your weird things, but you will consume the floor if you keep doing this and you will drive me insane.” 

“But I’m nervous,” you whine, starting to torture your lips.

“Oh my god, stop that too,” he says, pulling your lower lip out of your teeth with his thumb. “Move and you’ll see,” he warns when he sees you lift your hand, knowing it will end up in your mouth to pull at your hangnails. 

You sigh defeated and slump on the couch. “I’m nervous.” 

“I got it,” he says, sitting next to you. “They’re chill, I promise.” 

“But I was fine before. Maybe this is a gut feeling, you know? Something is telling me this will go wrong…” 

“Yeah, and that something is your paranoid ass. Babe, come on. You’re perfect.” 

You’re far from perfect, and sometimes you wish you could see yourself from his eyes to see what he sees of you because you struggle to see the amazing things he notices about you. And you fear his family will be extremely disappointed when the fantasies his son tells them through the phone won’t meet the reality. 

Haechan is about to open his mouth again when the intercom rings, and you freeze. 

“Come with me,” he smiles, reaching out a hand, tapping his feet when it takes you too long to take it. “Babe, come on.” 

“I’m gonna pass out,” you mumble as your hand reaches him and you get up from the couch. Haechan sighs deeply as he basically drags you to the intercom to open the door on the floor. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, trying to shrug off what he’s feeling. Now that you’re so anxious, he can’t help but feel it too. Maybe this was too soon, maybe you’re not ready, maybe this will be the breaking point and he will lose you again. 

But then the doorbell rings, and you’re the first to reach out your hand and open the door. 

“Hi, mom,” Haechan greets when he sees you’re struggling to find the words and throws himself in her arms to give you time to take it all in. 

“Hyuck,” she says, her calm tone filled with love, “look at you.” Her hands cup his cheek and squeeze them roughly, making him groan, and you chuckle. “And look at you,” she adds, bringing her attention to you. 

“Hello, Mrs. Lee,” you greet, bowing at 90°, but she laughs, and you freeze. 

“Oh, honey, please, just come here and let me give you a warm welcome to the family,” she encourages you, opening her arms. 

You quickly glance at Haechan, silently asking if this is a test, but he reassures you with a smile and nods in her direction. So, you step forward and hug her. 

“You smell so good, honey,” she compliments, squeezing you before letting you go, and resting her hand on your shoulder. “And wow. Haechan kept talking about you and I guessed you were pretty but not like this, you’re beautiful.” 

“You’re too kind, Mrs. Lee,” you say, lowering your head to hide how shy you feel right now. “You look beautiful too, now I know why Haechan is so handsome.” 

She chuckles and then pats your arm. “Thanks, sweetheart. And just call me by my name, please.” 

“I will.” 

“So, where are the others?” Haechan asks, looking behind his mom and seeing the empty corridor. 

“We brought something, your dad is taking everything from the car, and your siblings are helping him,” she explains, lifting her bags as you let her come in. “I wanted to dim her trauma of meeting the whole family at once, so I came here as soon as we parked.” 

Haechan rolls his eyes, grabbing the bag. “Food?” 

“It wasn’t necessary, we prepared everything,” you say. 

“I’ll never show up at your house with empty hands, darling,” she replies. “Also, I wanted you to try some of my specialties, I couldn’t wait anymore.” 

A warm smile spreads on your face as you feel you can finally breathe again. Maybe this won’t be a disaster. “I can’t wait to taste them.” 

Haechan was right. His family is loud. But it’s a kind of loudness you missed for so long, you can’t complain. His family is nice, and you can easily slide into conversations with them. The afternoon was mostly calm, you talked to get to know each other and ease the tension, you showed them the house —there wasn’t much to show, but they appreciated it anyway— and you even talked about future plans. 

But now you’re alone in the kitchen, placing the plates you used for the appetizers in the sink, and when you smell smoke, you know it’s time for everything that went well until now to turn into a mess. 

“Oh God, fuck no,” you curse under your breath, blocking your nose with your hand as you wave away the smoke from the oven and try to open it. “Not tonight, it can’t be fucking possible.” 

“Hey, what’s going on — oh,” Haechan says, entering the kitchen after he hears the clattering and your murmuring. 

“It burned. I burned the fucking lasagna. I have to make a good impression on your family and I burn it, I just burn it,” you almost cry, panicking over the burned pasta in the oven dish that now sits on the countertop. “Everything was supposed to be perfect, I had it all planned, and now, oh my god, the meat, check the meat,” you rant, turning around to check the oven again. 

Haechan sighs, head peeking out of the kitchen door. “Sorry, just wait a sec, we’ll be there with the first,” he warns his family before locking the door behind him, not waiting for their answer. It’s not like they care much, busy eating bread, drinking delicious wine, and still admiring the beautiful job you and him did with the decorations. 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, blocking you in place. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It was supposed to be the first big serving of our dinner,” you whine, furrowing. “Our first Christmas dinner together and I fuck it up.” 

“You didn’t,” he says, looking behind you, trying to hide his face because yes, it is burned, but he’s sure you can find a solution. You two always do. “We’ll fix it.”

“I won’t serve your family a burned lasagna, I refuse,” you cry, hiding in the crook of his neck. “What will your mom think of me?” 

He chuckles. “Really? My mom is in love with you, she didn’t stop complimenting you for one second. The way you look, how smart you are, how pretty this place is and how well you keep it, the delicious food you’ve prepared. I’m sure she’ll have a story for a burned something too, come on.” 

“No, let’s take the first layer off,” you say, pushing him away. “It’s ugly.” 

“First,” he says, coughing, “we’ll open the window, alright? I don’t want to poison ourselves.” You watch him as he does and then go back to the mess in front of you. “And now, let’s fix this.” 

You two take the first layer off, but you don’t feel better, that’s not supposed to be the last layer. You put so much love into it, finishing it with mozzarella and cheese, and now it’s burnt. 

“It looks terrible, they will think I don’t know how to cook,” you huff. 

“I know how to fix it, any parmesan cheese left?” Haechan asks, and you nod, opening the fridge to hand him the box with it in it. You watch him as he puts it on, hiding the tomato sauce, and making it look a bit better, and you think that he’s always the one fixing your mistakes. “See? It’s perfect now.” 

You groan because it’s not what you planned. But it’s still better than before. “Let’s not make them wait longer.” 

“Everything alright? Something happened in there?” His father asks when you two come out of the kitchen, closing the door behind, so the air in there can change, but you won’t freeze in the living room. 

“Yeah, just a minor problem,” Haechan explains sitting the dish down, and you know he wants to pretend nothing happened, but you can’t keep it in. 

“I burned it,” you confess. “I’m sorry, but I got distracted here talking and I forgot about it, and I burned it. And we took the burned part out, but this is not my lasagna. I’m a master at it, and I’m sorry this mess is your first encounter with it.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” his mom says, “all the things I burned all the time. Try to manage four little demons and it will be surprising when you don’t make mistakes in the kitchen.” 

“Hey! We’re angels,” his youngest brother, Dongwook, complains. “Also, can I have the burned part? I love it when it’s crispy.” 

“It’s burnt, not crispy, it’s bad for you,” you say, but his big eyes pleading you, make you look at his parents for approval. 

“Can you bring it here, please? We’ll see how bad it is,” his father says. 

“Dad, Dongwook, you don’t need to see it,” Haechan intervenes, and you know he’s doing it to protect you but you reassure him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sit, it’s fine. I’ll go take it.” 

You take a deep breath and enter the kitchen again before coming out with the plate with what you and Haechan took off. “Here’s the mess.” 

“This is not burnt,” Dongwook jumps in his seat, grabbing the plate and smiling happily. “You took out the best part!” 

You look at his mother with concern because that is burned, maybe not a lot —you took out the completely black parts and only kept what could be somehow saved, less than half of the top layer— but it’s not crispy either. 

Mrs. Lee just shrugs and tells you not to worry with a wave of the hand and you relax a bit. 

“If it’s not good you don’t have to eat it, we have the meat, it’s still cooking, but it’s good,” you say as Haechan puts a slice in each plate. “I’ll get up in a few minutes to make sure that won’t burn.”

“Why are you so stern with yourself?” His sister, Dasom, asks and you freeze. 

“Dasom,” Haechan scolds. 

“What?” She scoffs. “She’s cool, if I was her, I would be annoying in the opposite way.” 

You chuckle and lower your head because they’re so nice to you. 

“You can’t ask people you’re not close with these questions,” he retorts, clearly not caring that her comment was supposed to be a positive one. 

“It’s fine, Hyuck,” you say, reaching for his hand now that he’s sitting back at its place next to you. “I’m just a bit nervous and I want this dinner to go well. I wanted everything to be as perfect as I planned and…” when things don’t go as planned, I go insane, your son and brother was a victim firsthand, “…when they don’t, it just throws me off a bit. But it’s fine.” 

“Shit!” Daehyun, the middle child, screams. 

“Ya!” Mrs. Lee slaps his arm, glaring in an admonition to not say swear words. 

“This is good!” he says, ignoring his mother. “Perfect. Girl, if this is not your best lasagna your best one is Star Michelin worth it!” 

“Oh, no, that’s too much,” you say, starting to breathe again because for a moment you feared he had found a bone or nerve or something else in it. But you can’t hide the smile on your face when the entire family praises you, the little one even telling you to always burn it because he loves the crispy layer. You’re sure they’re exagerating a bit to cheer you up, but you still think it’s kind enough that they care to put a smile on your face. 

Haechan nudges you subtly. “Told you,” he whispers, and you smile. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, shyly meeting their gazes and feeling full as you stare at their happy faces. 

And you remind yourself that it’s fine if things don’t always go as planned, sometimes mistakes and unforeseen can bring nice things. If it wasn’t for the unexpected, you wouldn’t have Haechan by your side and you wouldn’t be having a happy Christmas dinner with your new family. 

You’re happy, and you feel at home. 

“Mom,” Haechan whines, hiding his face against your shoulder before lifting it again, letting out another heavy sigh, “you didn’t have to bring the photo album here.” 

“Oh, she did,” you chuckle, sitting better on the couch to be turned toward his mom who’s sitting next to you with the book resting on her legs. 

You feel Haechan’s head rest against you again, this time completely given up and ready to face the humiliation. 

“Are there embarrassing pics of us too?” His sister asks, sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning on her mom. 

“Probably,” Mrs. Lee giggles before opening the book. 

As the photos pass by, you can’t help but wonder why he’s so embarrassed. “You haven’t changed a bit,” you say, turning to him, moving your arm so you can wrap it around his shoulder, and his head presses against your chest. 

“Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear,” he scoffs, his voice filled with sarcasm. 

“You still have the same smile,” you point out, “and the mischievous grin.” 

“Oh, that has always been him. Every time he did something he wasn’t supposed to do, or ruined something, that little smirk was there. I couldn’t even get mad at him,” his mom explains, and you smile at the image forming in your mind. 

“Don’t pout,” you pinch his cheek, making him yelp, “it’s cute.” 

“As long as you don’t have any from my teenage years, we’re fine,” he says, making his siblings laugh. “It’s not funny. You had the same phase as me,” he points at the two oldest, “and you are in it right now.” 

“I’m not. I’m cool, unlike you.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” 

“Look at this!” You scream, pointing a finger at a picture of him at the pool, he’s wearing a life vest and has a pool float around him, and his smile is so big as he waves at the camera with both hands. 

“We went to the pool that day, he didn’t know how to swim, he even ate with the lifesaver on,” his dad says, eliciting another groan from him. 

“Stubborn even as a child,” you joke, intertwining your hands. 

“Let’s not get there,” his sister rolls her eyes, and Haechan pokes his tongue out in reply. 

“You have curly hair?” You ask after seeing other pictures of him. 

“Wavy, I would say,” he replies, shrugging. 

“You look even softer like this. How did you not want to bite him every two seconds?” You ask his mom, and she laughs. 

“The cuteness of his face really saved him from a lot of troubles,” she says. “Remember when you stole Mrs. Park’s apples?” 

“I didn’t steal them, I had no idea about capitalism and economy. She gave them to me once, and I thought I could just take them,” he explains. “Turns out the real world is not that easy.” 

“Uhm, a young thief, I didn’t know you were such trouble,” you tease, and he glares at you but then breaks in a laugh. “But seriously, you should wear your natural hair more often, I always thought you would perm them somehow or steal my products to curl them, I had no idea they were natural.” 

“I always told him he looked better like that, never listened,” Dasom chimes in. “But I’m sure he will listen to the love of his life,” she mocks in a high-pitched voice and Haechan throws her a pillow. 

You’d laugh at their exchange if only being called ‘the love of his life’ didn’t make your brain short-cut for a few seconds and send the beats of your heart to an insane rhythm. 

“The love of your life, ugh?” You whisper. 

“You know you are,” he says, smiling at you. “Or does this scare you away?” 

“Not even your emo phase scared me away, so nope, I don’t think this will.” 

“Hey! You didn’t see that yet.” 

“But we’re getting close, the middle school years are around the corner,” his mom says.

The middle school years don’t scare you away, if it’s possible it all makes you love him even more. But the pictures you loved the most were the ones of the family. The ones where he’s holding his sibling after their births, the ones with them on their bikes, on a swing, while playing football or going down a slide. The ones of their summers, mostly at the few parks they had near because it was hard to go somewhere else, but it didn’t matter. You find yourself in them, glimpses of your family and the struggles you went through, always ending in little things that were enough to make everyone happy because being together was all that mattered. And you find yourself in them even now, as they talk, telling you stories, bickering over details that are insignificant but at the same time mean everything, teasing each other in ways only siblings can do. And you miss that, you feel a deep hole in your chest as you watch Haechan laugh with his sister. The way he talks to her, teases her, but at the same time has her back, reminds you of your brother and you. You feel the same void when you look at his parents, how they smile at their kids, the gentle touches of his mom, and the awkward way of demonstrating love of his dad. It all brings you home, and you wonder for a second what it would’ve been like… if only your parents were there too, if only the holiday weren’t such a slap in the face. 

But after the cold shower, you feel a warm embrace. When his mom’s touch reaches you with soft pats on your knees or shoulder. When his sister talks to you to side against him. When his dad tells you he will show you how to carve wood. When his brothers eat your gingerbread men and keep praising you. 

What could’ve been doesn’t matter because there is something now. This is good. You see a light at the end of the tunnel. You feel that your ‘what ifs’ might turn into reality one day, that maybe not next year, but in three, your family will be here too, and you will tell your stories just the same. Because you have a lot of them, and you’re sure your parents would get along with Haechan’s so well. This is warm. There’s not the cold of your lonely apartment or the awkward, abrupt silence as Johnny’s mom went back to her words, terrified of ruining your day. The void that opened in your heart is easily filled by them, and even if you can’t follow everything perfectly, and sometimes it gets overwhelming, you have Haechan’s hand on yours. He never leaves it, it’s there, right on top of yours, caressing your skin, keeping you grounded. 

But then the question everyone has avoided comes. It’s like a drop falling on a vase full to its brim, and it freezes you and Haechan right on the spot. 

“Can I ask where are your parents?” 

“Mom,” Haechan is the first to talk, the stern gaze he gives his mom makes you feel worse than the question she asked. 

“Sorry, I… I didn’t know, I thought she wanted maybe a break to call them or —” 

“Mom!” 

“It’s fine,” you stop him, looking into his eyes to calm him. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to tell them. They were doing fine without knowing anything,” he replies, looking at you. You can feel the anger in his voice and his eyes. 

“I can tell bits,” you say. “Small steps, remember? You taught me that.” 

You can feel the confused gazes in the room, and the attention annoys you more than having to explain yourself. 

 When you turn around, you see his mom, who is about to apologize again, but you stop her by lifting your hand. “My parents are not here,” you say. “I mean it’s obvious, and I guess you want to know why. I’m…” you chuckle nervously. “I’m pretty sure we… we go along well, and we’re family now… right?” You ask hesitantly. 

“Yeah, of course, you were family the moment I saw Haechan’s eyes shine bright when he spoke about you,” his mom says, and you smile. 

“Good. And families should be open with each other, but there are some things I… I still want to keep to myself.” 

When Haechan hears your voice shake, he places his hand on your back, and you relax at the touch. “Me and my parents basically don’t talk anymore. We text for the birthdays, and the important holidays but that’s it. There’s a reason behind it and I think no one is to blame, something happened and the three of us reacted badly, so I don’t want you to think they’re bad.” 

“We’re sorry,” they say at the same time, and you chuckle. 

“We would never think that anyway, not without knowing people’s stories,” his mom says. “I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t think that since you didn’t bring it up, you didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you did, so you at least know this of me,” you reassure her. “And I’m sorry I’ve been quiet about myself. I prefer present-me to past-me, especially if I can’t talk about… if I can’t tell the full story.” 

“It’s like Haechan’s middle school pictures,” his sister says, clearly to take some pressure off your shoulders, and you laugh. “Imagine seeing the photos and not telling that he did that to get a girl’s attention.” 

“Dasom, it was a serious moment!” Haechan says. 

“What? She laughed! She’s prettier when she laughs, and she was sulking. You shouldn’t want to see your girlfriend sad,” she justifies, sipping on her drink, and you high-five her. 

“I don’t like you two being so close,” he jokes, pulling you back next to him. But with the corner of your eyes, you notice that his face is much more relaxed now. 

“But seriously, I… I thought I could talk about it, I do with him,” you say, pointing at Haechan. “But your stories were so happy and I miss that kind of thing, you know, a family like yours, so I prefer to listen to you. It made me happy, and I don’t want to make me and all of you sad.” 

You can see the pity behind their eyes. They don’t know what happened, but they can guess, and anything it’s not a happy guess, so they’ll want to tell you something but you stop that from happening. 

“And since it’s almost midnight, and we need to open the gifts soon, why don’t we lighten the mood with some music?” You say, standing up. “Dasom, what about your karaoke?” 

She gasps, staring at Haechan behind you. “You told her?” 

“Of course, I needed her to be ready.” 

“I wouldn’t have done that here, with her, on our first meeting,” she says. 

“But I want you to, I used to do it with my brother, so it would mean the world to me.” You see that when you talk about your brother it’s like she realizes it, something makes her understand what happened, but she doesn’t say anything. She smiles, gets up, and grabs your hand. You jokingly find yourself thinking that if anything will ever go wrong with Haechan, you might try to date her. 

“I’ll go get something else to drink,” Haechan says, getting up, “you two monsters come with me.” 

The rest of the night goes smoothly. You sang for a while before sitting on the floor around the coffee table to eat the dessert you and Haechan’s mom prepared. Popped the champagne when the clock hit midnight, exchanged gifts (his mother gave you two homemade matching sweaters, they were so beautiful you struggled to have a normal reaction), and then played board games.

“I really wish you could stay but this place is so small, I wouldn’t know where to make you sleep,” you say when you’re exchanging goodbyes. 

“You worry too much, honey,” Mrs. Lee says, hugging you. “Everything was perfect, from this afternoon to the dinner, and then the photos, the singing. I never had so much fun. And you know what, I was truly sorry for your lasagna, but it was so nice to not be the one that has to worry about that for once,” she jokes, eliciting a quiet laugh from you. 

“I’m glad you had fun. I never planned a Christmas dinner before, and I feared making you come here from the afternoon would’ve bored you or something, but I think it was a great idea.” 

“It was. And for being your first time, you were amazing. You have nothing to worry about, also the mistakes and the funny things end up in the stories we tell in the years to come, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Get dressed,” she orders the youngest before glaring at Daehyun, “you’re twenty, you should do your things without me telling you.” 

You laugh when they resume bickering while putting their coats on. You catch her rolling her eyes before bringing her attention to you. 

“You know, Donghyuck didn’t bring many people at home before. Most of the time, I had to guess he had some flings or something, but even the ones he felt were worth meeting us, weren’t like you. And I’ve seen him in love, I’ve seen him do crazy stuff, but I’ve never seen him like this,” she smiles fondly. “A mother notices a lot of things, and I’ve noticed his touches on your hand, how he plays with your hair or caresses your back, I’ve seen him rage when one of us overstepped. But most importantly, I see the love. I already had the feeling through the phone calls, but seeing his eyes light up, watching him get lost in you with every breath… wow, I fear you put a spell on him,” she chuckles. Her gentle eyes move between you and her son as a soft smile curls her lips, creating some wrinkles on her cheeks. 

“He loves me like nobody ever loved me before, and…” you pause, turning your attention on him, watching him laugh with his dad, smiling in reflection before your eyes are on his mother another time. “I know it might sound exaggerated from the outside, but his love saved me more than I knew I needed to be saved.” 

She smiles, caressing your arm. “Yeah, I noticed that too. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if that made you bond more, but if you ever fear he’s not into this, I want you to know that he’s serious. When he told me he moved out of his apartment to live with his girlfriend, I was speechless. I thought he was never going to settle down, especially not so soon. But he did that, and even if he was afraid, he was happy about it.” 

You want to tell her he was afraid for you, but you can’t or else she might think you don’t love him just as much, so you smile and nod. “This was a big step.” It’s not a lie, it was a big step for him too. His life was completely different before you two met and everything changed. 

“Oh, but an amazing one. Look at how cute your place is, it feels like home. Even if it’s not big, even if it doesn’t have design pieces, even if it’s not in the center of town, you’ve got each other. And that’s something you can’t ever take for granted,” she says, and you see her smile sadden a bit as she looks over at her husband, who’s now busy talking with Haechan and Dasom. “But I don’t want to talk about what I had to go through with my husband, what matters is that we made it, and we raised four wonderful kids. And I don’t know if you want them or not, it doesn’t matter, there’s time to grow and change, but you’re young now, and have all your life to live, just the two of you. I just want you to remember to always have each other’s back. Even if you both decide you want to make another big step, you have to have each other to give love and water another flower.” 

You wipe away a tear, lowering your head, and she coos, caressing your cheek. “No, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

“It’s fine,” you reassure her. Her words made you sad for other reasons, stinging right at the missing piece left by the absence of your parent’s love. “I’m very lucky to have him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Mom,” Haechan’s voice rings behind you, and you notice his worried look when he sees you wipe away some other tears. 

“We were just talking, I’m about to cry too, it’s normal,” she explains, smiling at you and you smile back. 

“Sure?” He asks you and you nod. “Yeah, also, I’m just a bit tired.”

“We’ll go now, seriously. We stayed way too long,” she says, calling the sibling at her side with a snap of the fingers.

“Tomorrow at lunch you’ll be here, right?” Haechan asks. His arm wraps around your waist, and he pulls you closer, thumb caressing your side in gentle motions. 

“I do not plan on eating at that hotel, so you can bet I’m going to be seated here, eating the amazing food she cooks,” his dad replies, and you chuckle. 

“Even if I burn it?” you joke. 

“Yes, even if you poison it, honestly.” 

“He ate something at the buffet when we arrived and wanted to change the hotel,” Haechan’s sister adds, rolling her eyes, and making you all laugh. 

“That’s where you get the overdramatic-ness,” you whisper only for Haechan to hear, and he mocks you with a stupid face. 

“Well, time to go, we annoyed them enough,” Dasom says, pushing the younger out of the door. “Merry Christmas, and thank you for everything!” 

“Merry Christmas to you too!” You and Haechan greet again, watching as they all make their way out of the apartment. “See you tomorrow.” 

“Cover up, it’s cold outside,” you say. “And drive safely, please.” 

“We will, it’s not far from here,” his dad reassures you. 

“Goodnight!”

When you make sure they enter the elevator, you close the door behind, and you sigh. 

“Yeah, I now realize I should’ve made you meet them sooner for a shorter amount of time,” Haechan says right away with a hint of irony in his voice. 

“You’re kidding, they’re amazing. I love them.” 

“So you’re not overwhelmed?”

“Maybe a bit, but they’re so much fun. Your mother is lovely. And I love your sister, I need her number so we can become friends.” 

“Nope, not happening. You two together will be the death of me,” he laughs, shaking his head.  

You stick your tongue out before opening your arms to him, begging for a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in, breathing deeply your sweet scent as he caresses your back. “You did so well today, I’m so proud of you.” 

You don’t reply, just smile in the crook of his neck as your arms hold him tighter and feel all the pent-up stress leave your shoulders. You let his perfume lull you, and the warmth of his body calm you. You two stay there for a while, he leaves small kisses on the top of your head, and you chuckle when it tinkles, and just hug him tighter. And you think that, even if you’re always all over each other, hugging is not something you do a lot, and you need to change that. But you’re both starting to feel the tiredness of the day, and you’re the first to pull away.

“Come on, let’s go get changed, I want to slump in our ugly pajamas together.” 

In less than twenty minutes, you both have showered and changed into your matching pajamas, the lights in the living room are off, and you’re ready to go to bed.

When you enter the bedroom, you see Haechan at the window, looking outside, and you quickly reach him, hugging him from behind and starting to leave kisses on his neck, making him giggle.

“What?” He hums when he looks behind and finds you staring at him with big doe eyes. 

“You were so cute as a kid,” you whisper. 

“Yeah, I noted that you would’ve had a crush on me if we met during kindergarten,” he chuckles, and you do the same. 

“No, dummy,” you scoff. “I mean, yes, probably. You were a charmer with your pretty curls and that smile. Would’ve swept little me right off my feet.” 

He turns around, hugging you. “Should we go back in time and see?” 

“Nah, I like our romantic start with the fuck in the car, more appropriate for adult-us,” you joke, and he laughs. “But little you got me a baby fever.” 

“Oh,” Haechan says, furrowing. “You run fast when you want to.” 

You shake your head, snickering. “I’m not that serious, I don’t want it right now, but... it sparked in my mind just for a moment.”

“Yes, we would make pretty kids, that’s what you’re saying.” 

“You ruin all the fun with all this mind-reading,” you pout, crossing your arms on your chest, and he laughs, kissing your pout. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I can’t give you a kid right now, but we can practice, so we know what to do when we want one.”  

You stare at him. “Tell me this was not supposed dirty talking because it’s the worst line that ever came out of your mouth.” 

“Hey! I was trying to be sexy.” 

“You’d be sexier if you just straight up told me you wanted to fuck. Because it’s also what I’ve been subtly trying to tell you.” 

“Nah-ah, you said you wanted my kids,” he teases, kissing your lips. 

You roll your eyes. “Not what I wanted to say.” 

“I don’t reckon a breeding kink, though. Missed something from your bdsm test results?” 

“Shut up, that’s weird. I was being sweet before, not horny. And breeding kink is only funny when it doesn’t turn into actual pregnancy.” 

He stares at you with a confused face, and you scoff, waving him off with your hand. 

“Can I give you the special Christmas gift?” You say, changing subject, batting your lashes seductively at him.

“Sure.” 

“Sit on the bed,” you order and then watch as he does what you say before you take a few steps back so there’s some distance between you. 

“You will not striptease with that ugly nightwear on?” 

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. “Why do you have to ruin all the fun? This is the best part of it all, the ugly nightwear. Now, will you let me do what I have to do, or do I have to go to somebody else? You know, we don’t have Mark next door anymore, but the neighborhood down the corridor is always so nice to me, and he used to flirt before you moved here, so I’m sure he would appreciate it.” 

“Oh, shut up! He’s lowkey a creep, and he always stares at you as if he’s never seen a woman his entire life. He probably wouldn’t even make you come, but he’ll nut in his pants as soon as you’ll touch him.” 

You chuckle at his accurate description. “So, you don’t want all this to go to waste, right?” you ask, pointing at your body from head to toe. “You better shut up and let me do what I have to do.” 

“Go on,” he says, nodding, and then sits more comfortably on the bed. 

Your dance as you strip is not exactly the sexiest thing on earth with the fluffy, baggy pants and no music playing in the background, but Haechan is having a lot of fun anyway watching your hips move, your hands run on your body, and your teasing faces. 

But it quickly turns serious when you lift your top off your head, revealing a red lace bra. 

“Fuck,” Haechan mutters, sucking his breath in and squeezing his thighs for a second. He has your body imprinted in the back of his mind by now, yet, every time, you leave him breathless. 

You keep going, letting the pants fall on the floor and gracefully picking them up to lay them on the chair, hips swinging as your hands run on your exposed body. You turn around, giving him a perfect view of your ass, and he bites back a moan. You chuckle delightedly, feeling shivers form on your skin when you hear him shuffle with his pants, probably pulling them down to ease the boner. 

You bend over, looking at him upside down, winking when he meets your gaze, before giggling when your eyes fall on his fist wrapped around his dick. 

“Hard already?” You ask teasingly, standing up and facing him. 

“What does it look like?” 

You pout, tilting your head. “I guess we have to do something about it. It’s too easy to turn you on.” 

“It’s not my fault you know all the right bottoms to push,” he replies. 

You huff. “Please, I just danced a bit, like this,” you stop, swinging your hips again and touching your body, cupping your boobs in the see-through red bra before reaching your neck and moving down again. “And bent over.” 

He sighs again, but you notice the gulp when he follows your body. “Dance for me?” 

You smile. “You don’t want me to take care of you?” 

“Not yet,” he breathes out. “Just dance for me, I’ll put some music on.” 

You smile and start moving, this time with slow music filling the silence. The Christmas lights hanging in the bedroom make the room look like a club, and you quickly get into the vibe. 

Seeing Haechan stroking his hand on his hard dick lazily while his eyes are stuck on you, is turning you on much quicker than expected. It goes on for a while, your body moving to the rhythm while his hand gradually picks up the pace, especially when you get in more provocative positions or get close to him, only to leave him with nothing.  

“Touch yourself,” he orders after long minutes of silence. “Bring the armchair in front of me and touch yourself with me.” 

A small gasp leaves your lips, but you’re quick to follow the instructions. You slowly sit, trying to maintain the sexy vibe. 

“Don’t undress.” His voice stops you right when your hands are about to pull the panties down. “You look too good in that set to throw it on the floor already.” 

You smirk, and then your hands move on your body. You throw your head back on the chair as you enjoy the sensation of your hands running on your skin, teasing your nipples, and slowly —too slowly, from Haechan’s annoyed groan— you start parting your legs. It’s clear it’s not enough when he says a stern call of your name. 

“Something wrong? Do you need something?” You tease, tilting your head to the side while your hands never stop touching your body, everywhere but where he wants you to. 

His eyebrow raises, and he scoffs. “You shouldn’t be naughty on Christmas, you know that?” 

You snicker, rolling your head back for a second before locking your gaze again. “Pfft, I already had my gifts, I can be as naughty as I want to.” 

“But do you? Do you want to?” He teases you, leaning a bit over. “I can see the dark spot from here, are you sure you want to punish yourself any longer?” 

You gulp at the intensity of his eyes. One second, you two are in a teasing-switchy-mode, and then one second later, he has this hold on you with just one look, pinning you down, leaving you no choice but to obey. 

“Good girl,” Haechan praises as soon as your legs spread open, one dangling down the seat, the other dangling on the armrest, and your fingers start moving your clit. 

A gasp of relief comes out of your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Nah-ah, look at me. I want you to keep your eyes on me.” 

You lock eyes with him, feeling warmer. You love the way he looks at you, you’re sure you’ll never get tired of it. His eyes are full of lust and love, making you feel desperately wanted and loved. You feel so comfortable in that, knowing you can let him do whatever you both want and never feel used. It is a recurring thought every time you’re exposed to him because it’s something that you didn’t experience in the past. 

“Can — can you tell me what to do?” You shily ask. 

His lips curl in a smirk. “You want me to give you instructions? Not in the mood to have control tonight?” 

You shake your head. You don’t feel like it, even if you love teasing and being bratty, tonight you want to leave the reins in his hands and let him guide you. 

“Good.” Haechan clears his throat and sits better on the bed, his hand still slowly touching himself while the other lays flat on the mattress to keep his body up. “Tease your nipples with your other hand, I know you love to play with your boobs.” 

Your hand moves up swiftly, not wasting a second, and a shaky breath comes out of your lips as your fingers rub the hard, sensitive bud. They’re already hard from the chilly temperature of the room, the heat warming it up just enough to be warm if dressed up, but soon get even harder from the stimulation. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks with a teasing edge in his voice, and you nod. “Move the panties to the side, let me see how wet you are.” 

As soon as you move the crotch to the side, his eyes intensely stare between your legs as he licks his lips, watching your cum drip down, and you have to bite back a moan.

He snickers and you raise a brow. “And to think all you did was dance for me.” 

Your throat goes dry at the mockery but you find the words anyway. “But you — you are touching yourself.” 

Haechan chuckles again, throwing his head back to push back his hair before lifting it. “Yes? It turns you on so much to see my hand wrapped around my dick? Want to have your hand wrapped around it?” 

You nod as you bring your thumb to your lips, biting a hangnail. And he laughs. “You’re serious about me guiding you, torturing your pretty nails to contain yourself and don’t let a finger slip inside of you.” 

At the call out, you move away your thumb but he only laughs louder. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Slip a finger in and tell me what’s running in your mind.” 

Your finger slips in with ease, bringing relief, but words struggle to come out of your mouth as you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze. “I want to — I want to suck it.” 

Haechan smirks, tilting his head to the side. “Really? Want to be on your knees, between my legs?” 

You nod with much more enthusiasm needed, but you don’t care. It’s too tempting now that he has his legs vulgarly spread, his thick thighs begging to be touched as you take his dick in your mouth, and his eyes slightly glossy with pleasure. It’s not a common sight, but you love it. Looking up and seeing his face wrecked, his eyes teary, but what you love the most are his moans and whimpers, so high and needy, as he unconsciously starts fucking your mouth to reach his high. 

“Maybe I’ll let you do it after, but first take care of yourself…” 

You huff but don’t complain further and start to move your finger faster. 

“Good girl. Push another finger in, come on, fuck yourself faster,” he encourages, clearly understanding you’re growing impatient and want more. “You’re so filthy,” he snickers. “So fucking wet, listen to the pretty sounds you make.” 

A muffled moan is your reply to his comment, but your body speaks more than words. Your head rolls back and your eyes close before you remember he told you he wants you to keep eye contact, and your pussy gets even wetter with each pump of your fingers. 

“Please, another one,” you beg. Typically two fingers are perfect, but with each sound of his hand sliding up and down on his dick, and the sight of his length throbbing as droplets of cum roll down his cock and hand, you can’t help but want to fool your body that he’s inside of you. 

He smirks, but it’s not as teasing as before, he’s starting to falter too. “Go on, add another one. Stuff yourself full, pretend all you want that’s my dick inside of you.” It’s not much the dirty talk, but the way he knows you so well that makes you shiver and close your legs for a split second. There’s nowhere to hide with him. 

You bite your lips to push down your throat a pathetic, high moan when he stops his movements to take his top off, leaving it on the other side of the bed. He’s completely naked now, one hand running in his long brown locks before it goes back to his side to keep his body up, and the other wraps around his cock. 

“You’re so hot,” you whine, huffing. And he chuckles, cheeks blushing a bit. You rarely compliment him during sex, too fucked out to vocally tell him what he does to you, and it’s always your body speaking to him. So when it happens, he’s not used to it. 

“Am I? Or are you only turned on by this?” He jokes, head pointing between his legs. 

You shake your head. “It’s you, fuck. Your hair, your lips, the moles on your skin.” 

He chuckles, stopping your praises. “My moles?” 

“Yeah, your moles, I love them,” you confess. He should’ve got this a while ago, considering you always let your fingers brush them and connect them with invisible strings. “I love your stomach, your waist, your thighs. And your hands, fuck, they’re so beautiful.” 

This time it’s a genuine smile that spreads on his face before he lowers it to hide the effect your words had on him, and you smile too. 

“Want to come?” He asks, still overwhelmed by the praises, and you giggle. He’s always so confident, you can’t believe he’s acting shy now. 

“Yes, please. Together?” 

“Together.”

You pull the third finger out, prioritizing swiftness and deepness over thickness — you’ll have time for that. And start to quickly move your two fingers in and out while your thumb rubs your clit. Your other hand plays with your boobs with more eagerness, pinching the nipples and cupping the soft flesh as you please. And soon enough you’re both coming. Haechan’s fast strokes and loud moans are the last thing you need to come, unexpectedly squirting and hitting him too. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans, biting his lips, hips squirming as more cums keeps coming out of him, messily hitting his stomach, chest, and legs. 

Your head rolls back as the pleasure starts slowing down, your fingers are still lazily riding out the orgasm, and your eyes fall shut as your lungs take deep breaths. 

“Fuck, come here, this is torture,” Haechan groans, getting up to pull you on the bed on top of him, not waiting to be steady on his knees. 

You chuckle at his eagerness, honestly, you’re surprised he lasted that long without touching you. 

“Next time we’re doing this,” he hums, kissing you, “you’ll sit between my legs. I need to feel you close.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” you giggle, pushing him flat down the mattress, and straddling his lap. Your hips grind on him, smearing the cum that splashed on his stomach on you, but you don’t care. You’re focused on kissing him, letting your fingers run in his long hair while enjoying the sensation of his running on your skin. 

“Mhh, are you going to be offended if I ride you instead of sucking your dick?” You ask, smiling awkwardly. 

He bursts into a loud laugh and then shakes his head. “Do you think I’d say no to that?” 

“I don’t know, I was kinda drooling over that, maybe the idea turned you on.” 

Haechan shrugs, pulling you into another kiss as his hands cup your ass. “It did turn me on, but I can’t stand another second not pressed against you. Why don’t we flip position, mhh? You wanted to be pampered tonight.” 

You smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’d prefer it. I don’t think I would last long on top.” 

He rolls you on your back, his lips never leaving yours and you chuckle in the kiss, trying to get rid of your panties, but he stops you again. “Keep them on, please.” You do as told, choking on a silent moan when his fingers brush your clit as he helps you keep them to the side. 

“You love this set, don’t you?” 

He nods, giving two tugs on his dick as he starts pressing it against your soaked slit. “Looks good on you.” 

A breathy, shaky moan slips from both of you as he sinks in, slowly as he always does, enjoying the feeling of every inch filling you up until he bottoms down. 

“You alright?” Haechan asks, and you nod with a small smile on your face. 

“Please fuck me?” You ask, trying to don’t show how eager you are. 

He chuckles but doesn’t tease you, instead, he places a hand on your hip and the other at the side of your head on the bed as his hips start moving. Each thrust is deep and long, knocking the air out of your lungs. And you get lost in the smooth movements of his body, rolling so easily to please you —God bless all those years of dancing. Your head rolls back when he snuggles in the crook of your neck to leave kisses on your skin, and your arms fly to wrap around him and bring him closer. 

You barely notice how one of his hands sneaks under your arched back to free you from the bra, and only sigh at the feeling of freedom that quickly gets overwhelmed with pleasure when his lips wrap around your hard nipples. 

“Fuck, Hyuck,” you whimper with your fingers clenched hard around his hair. You’re tempted to look at him, staring at his concentrated face as he sucks on your nipple, sending more shivers down your spine, but you’re too lost in pleasure and can’t bring yourself to look up. 

You bite your lips when he moves to the other side and the chill air of the room lingers over the warmth left by his mouth. The constant stimulation of your sensitive buds sends new shivers down your spine and makes the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“Fuck, babe, your boobs are so soft,” Haechan moans against your skin. His other hand creeps up and wraps around the neglected one, squeezing tight. 

A breathy moan rolls from your hips as your hand tangles in his hair and your hips jerk up against him.

“What? Why are you pulling away?” You ask in a whine when Haechan moves away from you and pulls out. 

“I don’t think you want me to rip them, right?” Haechan snickers as his fingers pull your panties down. 

“Oh, I thought — never mind,” you mumble, feeling heat creep on your face.  

He smiles, his gaze is gentle as ever as he lifts your face. “You thought I was leaving you?” 

You nod shyly, biting your lips. 

“I would never. See? I’m right here,” he reassures you. His lips meet yours, one hand cups your face and the other helps him slide into you again. 

You moan in the kiss while your hands reach his hair to pull him against you. “Want you,” you slur, watery eyes looking into his. 

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “I just needed to get them out of the way.” 

Your lips meet again, and never truly part again. His rhythm picks up again, but this time he pushes your legs against your chest, reaching deeper, making you feel every inch more. 

“Hyuck,” you whine, throwing your head back as you gasp for more air. 

“Feels good? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” 

You nod frenetically. “Feels — feels good.” 

Haechan smirks, thumb brushing on your burning cheek before running over your quivering lips. “You’re so beautiful when you’re vulnerable like this,” he whispers, and you’re not sure you were supposed to hear it because it feels as if he’s talking about something else. It’s about you showing yourself fully to him, with no armor, and no mask, and not only during sex. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Taking me so well, so warm and wet,” he mutters under his breath, messily kissing you again, and reaching for your hand to intertwine it with his. With each drag of his dick inside of you, you feel closer to the edge, and automatically your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper. 

“Fuck,” he groans, not expecting you to do that, and you feel his hips falter for a second, but he swiftly picks up the steady rhythm. 

“I’m close,” you whisper, and he hums. 

“Wait for me, can you, princess? I’m close too, just — fuck — just a bit more.” 

You nod and then feel the urge to do something. You’ve got more comfortable with time, but eye contact can still be pretty hard and vulnerable for you, yet you don’t think much when you cup his face and force him to look straight into your eyes. This time your stomach flutters from love, and you melt in his golden brown eyes looking into yours with nothing but love. And you can’t hold it anymore. “I love you,” you whisper, the sincerity and vulnerability in your voice watered down by lust but clearly there. 

Haechan doesn’t expect it; you see it in his eyes widening and you feel it in his hips slowing down for a few seconds. This is the first time it comes out of your lips while you’re having sex, he’s always the one getting a bit more caught up, confessing his love even in these intimate moments, while you save it for other times. He gulps, not knowing what do to, but then a shy smile creeps on his face as he lowers it again; just the time to regain his usual confidence before staring back at you. “I love you, too.” 

You smile, feeling warmth spread across your chest, and pull him in a kiss. 

And after that, you two are just skin and bones burning in synch in the passion of your love. One of your hands is in his hair, tugging a bit, while the other is wrapped around his shoulder, your nails scraping his delicate skin, and your legs are still wrapped around his waist. While Haechan’s hand is resting on your hip, and the other is holding his body up now that he’s lying closer to you and has more risk of losing balance. 

The orgasm washes over you at the same time as he keeps fucking into you and you kiss each other, moaning in the messy meeting of your lips. His fingers dig in your skin and your nails dig in his scalp, but none of you feel pain, just more pleasure as you both ride out your orgasm. 

Haechan doesn’t pull out right away. His head falls in the crook of your neck where he leaves more kisses, praising you in whispers, and you lay there with a dumb smile on your face. 

“Can I stay here inside of you forever?” He jokes, looking at you with a playful smirk on his face. 

You chuckle, shrugging. “I would lie if I said I’d be bothered, but unfortunately it would be impractical.”

“Fine, then just a bit more.” 

You both enjoy the intimacy of this closeness, occasionally kissing and caressing each other and when he pulls out of you, you groan, feeling suddenly cold. 

“I’ll be back, just let me get something to clean you up,” he says, leaving a peck on your lips before leaving. 

Haechan comes back with a wet towel in hand, sits next to you, and gently wipes you clean. Your legs close at the stimulation but his hand on your thighs helps you don’t focus on the fabric passing over your sensitive core. It’s quickly done, and he can come back next to you after a few minutes. 

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and smile when his hand wraps around you and starts caressing your back after pulling the covers on top of you. 

“Thank you,” Haechan whispers, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“For?” 

“For trying,” he replies, looking down at you to meet your eyes. “This time of the year is always so hard for you, and even last year you hated it, even if we were already together. I know you used to love it, but I thought it was going to take more time to live it with a light heart, well, as light as it can be,” he chuckles, but it’s an awkward laugh. There’s some pain in his voice, and you know that if it was possible he would take your pain and put it on his shoulders, but he can’t. 

You flip on your stomach, to look at him better, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from dancing on your back. 

“You underestimate me,” you joke. You’re not sure you want to talk about this now. The holidays are long, you’ve planned the entire week with his family, except for two days, you might still have some lows. But Haechan seems to always appreciate every small step you take, and you feel good in that pride. 

“No, I know how hard some things are for you. And even if I want you to get better, I would never force you into anything. And it’s… it just means so much to me that you did all of this for me. I mean, for you too, but you started planning months before, you proposed to invite my family over for me. And trust me, I know that our house is still a sacred safe place for you, and you still don’t easily let people in, but you let them. And letting them in is probably scarier than when you let me in back then. But you did it, because you know how much I love my family and how much I love this month and this celebration, and what you did means everything to me.” 

You chuckle, pushing back some tears because you don’t want to cry. “You gave me the strength to do it. I couldn’t stay anchored to the past any longer, it was now or never. If I started hating the holidays even with you by my side, it would’ve been the end of it all. I… once I start relating negative experiences with something I never stop doing that. As much I loved the way the Suhs invited me over in the past years, I knew I couldn’t take another pity-Christmas-dinner. We should have one with them too one day, maybe, but no more pity, I can’t take it anymore.” 

Haechan smiles, caressing your face. “You were different when we ate at Johnny’s last time, I think his parents saw that too. And they weren’t walking on eggshells anymore. Let’s be honest, with you it’s not eggshells, it’s bombs, so I can’t blame them.” 

A soft laugh rolls off your tongue as your head falls against his chest, but the lighthearted moment comes to an end when a veil of sadness falls on your face. 

“Something wrong?” 

You shake your head. “No, I just realized some things.” 

“About you?” 

“About you,” you say. “I feel I will never be able to make you understand how much you changed my life for the better. And I know that in your eyes I sound so dramatic at times, but…” you sigh, eyes falling on the white sheets before meeting his curious gaze again. “But you mean so much to me, and you taught me everything I had forgotten with time. I used to go on with my days, but I didn’t fully live them. I was constantly afraid: of failing, of hurting someone, even killing someone, so I didn’t love, I didn’t feel. All my emotions in the past years were felt by a 30%, just to fool myself that if I didn’t give, if I didn’t put myself out there, I was safe, and… looking back at it now, it sucked.” You stop again, trying to give an order to your thoughts, and Haechan gets it. He doesn’t talk, he waits and listens. Haechan listens. To your words. To your cries. But most importantly to your silence. Because with you, at times, it says much more than words. 

“Somehow, I had died with him that day. Not physically, but I was quick to kill myself to punish myself for what happened. And then you brought me back to life. I was so scared with you because now I… I can die again. Now I have something to lose, I have so much to lose, and it should be scary, but I weirdly feel at peace. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I notice it because I scheme for the little things now, and just let life wash over me. I don’t want control of the bigger picture, I can direct the behind-the-scenes, I guess,” you joke, and he laughs too. His face is relaxed, and it feels good to be an open book, to have no fear of opening up and fearing that the other will leave. “Your mom told me something that made me think of this. As long as we’ll have each other’s back, it won’t be as scary. And this would be scary too if I felt that one of us wasn’t 100% sure of this relationship but, I don’t know, I have the impression that we might want to be in this for a long time.” 

Haechan chuckles, and then nods, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I like ‘for a long time’. It’s stable but not forever. Let’s be honest, would I want to date you even in the afterlife? Nah, come on, give me a break at least there.” 

You laugh and then wrap an arm around his torso. “Just two dates with other ghosts, and then you’re coming back to me.” 

“Yeah, fine,” he huffs, but his voice is filled with irony, and then his lips are on yours again. 

“Be honest, was the lasagna that good, or did they fake it?” You ask with a furrow on your forehead, still tangled in the hug. 

Haechan laughs. “Oh my god, I gave you a mind-blowing orgasm and you’re still thinking about that? But yeah, it was good, if it was bad, you would’ve seen it in their faces. They loved it, and they love you.” 

The conversation doesn’t die there, but shifts from funny moments you had yesterday and the plans you have for the days to come. Then you realize you haven’t texted Johnny and his family a Merry Christmas yet; you could’ve done it in the morning, but you were used to waiting at midnight together and even if it’s almost 3 am, you still want to do it to somehow keep your tradition alive. 

You grab your phone, and write him a text, finishing it with the promise you’ll also be calling him tomorrow. You have so many things to tell him, you know it’s going to be a long call in the morning as you prepare everything for lunch. And right before you’re about to lock the screen again, Haechan stops you. 

“Wait, wait, wait, what? Who’s that?” He says, pointing at the name of a contact and you laugh. “Why are you laughing? What’s funny? My pathetic loser?”

“With a heart at the end,” you add, showing him the phone. “It’s you by the way.” 

Haechan gasps offended, but you see it’s all an act and he’s just curious to know why you have him saved like that. “Really? I’m a loser? A pathetic loser?” 

“No, you’re my pathetic loser,” you correct him.  

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, wow, that makes me feel better,” he jokes. 

“Well, it’s how I saved you when I got your number three years ago.” 

His eyes widen even more, and you’re not sure he’s completely faking it. “And couldn’t change it to something more romantic over the years?” 

“This is the romantic version. At first, you weren’t mine, just the cheesy, annoying, simpy, guy Johnny tried to make me hook up with, but now, you are the cheesy, annoying, simpy, love of my life.” 

He groans, ripping the pillow from under his head to hide his face and scream in it and you laugh at his reaction. “And then I’m the cheesy, romantic one!” He points out and you only shrug. 

“I can change it if you don’t like it,” you say, snuggling closer to him, pulling the pillow away to kiss his jawline and caress his hair back, soft and long, framing his face perfectly. 

“Are you kidding? I love it,” he says, pulling you on top of him, and kissing you. 

“Good, I’m glad you like it, my pathetic loser.” 

It’s late, but you can’t stop talking, tangled up in the sheets, after slipping back into your comfy pajamas, peeing, and leaving the shower for the morning. You tell him the stories you didn’t say today, and he tells you some others his family doesn’t know, and just when the clock hits 4, sleep starts to take over. The soft caresses on your back and his warm body close to yours lull you into a comfortable sleep.

It’s Christmas, you’re in Haechan’s arms, wearing matching pajamas, and your hearts are beating as one. Today will be another long day, but you’re confident it will be amazing, and what’s left of your fears won’t eat you up. They don’t matter, the past doesn’t matter, there’s only one thing that matters now. 

There are only three rules left: be alive, love, and be loved. 

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo ; @yellowgirllsblog

hits different taglist: @adorejaehyn​ ; @matchahyuck​ ; @jjhmk ; @ourbeautifulaffair​ ; @what-the-jams :​ @oleoleniall ;​ @kundann ; @bbagu​ ; @ismileeprnc-responder​ ; @produmads​ ; @zkdlllin ;​ @yesohhsehun​ ; @aliceinwhateverland ;​ @strangevante​ 

taglist with some people that interacted under HD (i hope this doesn’t bother you, just thought you might’ve liked being tagged since you showed love to the first one): @rjtulips ; @lmnhead ; @girlwholoveslpreppyattire ; @lovingvoidgoatee ; @brownsugarbaybee ; @canknot ; @adollsblog ; @ch1llkill ; @bacons-thighs ; @emptynote ; @addyanm ; @marklovexs ; @softieehcficrecs ; @brightestmark ; @jyanigoth ; @haechskies ; @rum-gone-why ; @melloworm ; @cheolctrl ; @taegr0wls ; @onlyseokmins ; @xtrataerrestrial ; @222brainrot ; @johnny-sassville ; @ujisworld ; @cup1dton ; @21497s ; @slushhie ; @sakamoto-hey ; @uyukyeom

taglist with people that interacted with the post: @harrypinks ; cont in comments

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#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #haechan fluff #lee haechan fluff #haechan hard hours #haechan scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #celebrity x reader #top shelf #book store #book store owner #scream #Wednesday Addams #Vada Cavell #tara carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6 #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega x you

[hyewka]

᭄⁑　txt as yanderes | thoughts

warnings: yandere, noncon, baby trapping, mention of knife play, slapping, perversion, not proofread

yandere!jjun is the type to be too sweet, sickly sweet. like barfed cupcakes and sprinkles, he pretends to care, he love bombs, he kisses you like he truly loves you, like there’s no one else but you and maybe its true, maybe there is no one else but you in his eyes. but its not romantic. not when he has blood on his hands, figuratively or literally, he’s responsible for innocents lost.

“i didn’t lay a single hand on them, how many times do i have to tell you! doll, baby, believe me. please.” his voice cracks, like he’s about to cry. you scoff and turn your head to the side, disgusted, feeling like you could very much vomit right now.

“stop fucking calling me these—these words!”

yandere!jjun, the type to crumble to his knees and beg, holding onto your leg like an abandoned puppy despite having much more power than you, both in strength and status. lips trembling, eyes wide and crazed, full of pitiful tears, giving you a false reality, sense of hope that he isn’t that much more powerful than you could even imagine.

now yandere!soobin on the other hand is the type you don’t even realize is mentally out of it, not until you’re literally two years into a relationship with him with a stable history of 7+ year of friendship. he’s been jealous here and there, one instance of him breaking down over you having coffee with a male colleague that you had to craddle him, rocking back and forth as he sobs and hiccups— that keeps you up at night sometimes, but he’s so convincing you don’t even notice how often he manipulates and gaslights and manipulates. the way he slithers his long arms around your waist, pressing your bodies flush, holding you tight, whispering random “love you’s”, you almost completely forget. almost.

when yan!soobin’s fucking you senseless, lost in pleasure, tongue out dumb like the horndog he is, you manage to warn him again, “b-baby, not on—hah birth control”

don’t cum inside. don’t cum inside. you told him that before you got too into it, and he agreed, he promised he won’t. of course he won’t.

so why’s he shaking his head? why’s he refusing now? your eyes widen a little, trying to push him but he leans to kiss you, drowning out your protests, turning them to mere mewls. “baby—wanna—wanna make you have babies..”

the alarm bells ring again. and again. and suddenly you remember the few warnings from your friends, the offhanded comments about how he’s a little off, a little weird, that he seems obsessed.

“you won’t leave me when you have my babies, you can’t—” suckling on your nipples through your shirt as if to prove a point, he wets it completely, making it see through with his spit. you feel gross. you feel—“can’t leave me,” he says one last time, moans straining as he empties his load in you. a generous load.

yandere!beomgyu is my favorite in the most deranged way possible. he’s not too sweet, he’s not the meanest, and he isn’t the most pathetic, but he’s definitely the craziest. beomgyu would be the one to go as far as to lock you in his home, keep you chained, bondaged—he’s fucking insane. the type to be into knife play as well, he loves the switch in power dynamic. instead of the past bossy, in control at all times y/n and her pretty lanky best friend who’s probably “head over heels” for her, it’s you on your knees, cold hard wood, getting your throat brutally abused like his personal sex doll.

he loves finally being the one in control. he’s so addicted. sometimes it feels like he’s only inflicting his craziest perverted dreams on you, and you were just his nearest victim, but oh no, out of the five, he’s definitely the most ‘in love’.

“let me out…beomgyu…please.”

his back is pressed against the bedroom’s door, listening in to your sobs that barely transcend the sound proof walls. he sighs, frusteningly running a hand through his hair.

“why—why don’t you love me?”

and suddenly its silent on your part, the sobs not reaching his ears anymore. its enough to cause more cracks in his heart, making him undeniably more bitter but god forbid he gives up on it—on making you love him back, he’ll risk everything for it.

yandere!taehyun is the most cruel but he’d also be considered the least delusional and the most delusional at the same time. he knows you won’t love him back, he could care less (well…debatable actually), it’s about protecting you at the end of the day. that’s where the delusion comes in, he thinks he’s your white knight and you’re only acting out like you’ve always been. stubborn and hard headed. when it comes to the sex, this man has you at all times legs spread up, with your hand restricted, supplying your pussy like a free breed whore. other than the humiliating position, he makes sure you’re aware at all times of what you are to him.

his saliva and cum covering your body like filth, using you like a rag, truly. he’s the type to slap when you act out—a strike against your face, pussy, tits, he’d do it all. and yet he still wholeheartedly believes he’s protecting you from the world that “corrupted” you.

yandere!hyuka is beyond pathetic but you’ll never know because he doesn’t act on his desires. well, in the sense that he doesn’t scratch the eyes out of every one of your boyfriends and doesn’t have you tied to him at all times—he’s the pussy type. in the dark, following, each and every step. that was the beginning. then it was jerking off on your balcony peeking between the blinds as he watches you undress. then it was stealing panties, sniffing, licking, as his hands go manic on his poor dick—it hurts, it’s dry but he keeps going, because he is so fucking addicted he doesnt wanna stop. whining n’ squeaking as he lets out your name out of his mouth over and over and over again.

your scent when he hugs you drives him mad, when you kiss his cheeks he embarrassingly spots a boner, he’s just pathetic with horrible horrible dirty thoughts in his head.

#txt smut #yandere smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #hueningkai smut #soobin smut #taehyun smut #🌷. rana thoughts

[gurugirl]

Gurugirl's Wattpad & Tumblr Fic Recs

Anything you read in these masterlists won’t disappoint but I’ve picked my absolute favorites from each blog and listed below.

NOTE: I did my best to include all my faves here but I've probably forgotten a few. I intend to add to this list (may need to make a part 2 once I hit my mentions and link limits) because I'm always reading new fics so come back often!

Angst recs (all taken from list below but specific to the more angsty ones)

Daddy kink

Enemies to lovers

Summer vibes & party fics

Personal faves from my own writings

Other blogs I love

Tumblr

@1d1195

One Shot: Right Here: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc.

@a-strange-familiar

Series: His Memories (3 parts): you and Harry broke up few months back but still love each other. And after all these months you see him again in a party. All memories you tried to push back in your head came back with a powerful speed.

@adorebeaa

One shot: Undo Me: YN reveals a kink in front of best friend!Harry, who is curious…

@awideworldoffanfics

Series: Milking the Grip (5 parts): Harry Styles is a single dad who golfs every Tuesday. Y/N is his babysitter who also happens to work at the golf course he goes to. They’ve never run into each other there. Until they do.

@be-with-me-so-happily

Series: My Way Back Home: YN is left to figure out what to do when the love of her life, Harry, does not remember loving her. (AU)

Series: Don't Worry Darling: Y/N has her first big break as an actress as she lands the leading role in 'Don't Worry Darling'. The only problem is that her co-star is Harry Styles, who she feels has a very big ego. Tensions rise the more they film. All kinds of tension...

One Shot: Friendly Favor: When YN's best friend Harry asks for a favor, she knows it'll be difficult, but she loves him too much to say no. However, it's a dumb plan, and those usually don't end how you think they will.

Series: Laceleaf: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she knows for a fact that anything involving Harry gets messy.

@bopbopstyles

Masterlist (anything you pick here will be a pleasure - seriously)

@fkinavocado

Series: Daddy Issues: in which you’ve got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them. (daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

Series: Hard Candy: in which Harry owns a candy store and he just loves giving good girls special treats… especially after closing time (candyman!Harry)

One Shots & Blurbs: Long Hair Harry One Shots & Blurbs

@freedomfireflies

Series: Playboy: Welcome to 1965, where the women are loose, and the morals are looser. Here you'll meet Michelle and Harry. You don't need to know too much about them. Just that they're both incredibly bold...and incredibly jealous. The summer of June 1965 was a rather wild one for the Playboy Bunnies but even more wild for our two dear friends. Stick around and I'm sure they'll be happy to tell you all about it. You just have to promise one little thing... Don't tell Hefner.

Series: Teach Me: 5 parts - Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend?

Series: Mafia!harry: 2 parts so far - more to come - Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession. But he's found the perfect way to make it right. Exhibition kink!!

@goldenbuckyyy

Series: Illicit Affairs: A series of events between your affair with Harry. (Cheating together)

@harryistheonlyoneforme

One Shot: Little Freak: pairing: dbf harry x reader (so hot - so many kinks all in one little shot - must read)

@harrywritingsbyme

Sneaking Around (a series of shorts): Best friends dad - FUCKING HOT

@helladirections

Series: Brother's Best Friend: Harry is YN’s brother’s best friend, and YN isn’t a little kid anymore. Ft. dom/sub, rough sex, and soft words. 

One Shot: Under Summer Skies: Harry and YN are longtime best friends back for another summer as the Dream Team on staff. Featuring getting called out by 12 year olds, two dumb best friends who can’t see what’s right in front of them, and lots of stargazing.

One Shot: Moka Pot: Do you think you can maybe do y/n and Harry having a slow morning routine? Like drinking tea together, doing skin together, basically just doing everything together? 

@itslottiehere

One Shot: I Don't Want to Hear About Him (angsty): bff!harry writes a song about bff!reader.. and her boyfriend.

@jawllines

Harry is Y/n's Criminology Instructor (2 parts)

Harry is a single dad and y/n is surprisingly good at babysitting (2 parts)

Harry & y/n are witches, they hate eachother, and something's coming (3 parts)

Y/n knows something she shouldn't and Harry does what on Fridays? (4 parts) - Boxer!harry

Harry is a grumpy mechanic and y/n just can't stop talking (4 parts)

@jarofstyles

King of the Jungle (multi part series): Y/N’s family works for a wildlife preservation society and Harry is king of the jungle or tarzan!harry

Lone Wolf (multi part series): Harry is a grumpy alpha who has given up on finding his mate or werewolf!harry

Beauty & the Beast (multi part series): Harry is a moody, withdrawn but successful creature who needs a companion who can tend to his… needs.

@lemoncrushh

Series: The Entertainer: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones meets Harry Styles, an up and coming musician and soon-to-be rockstar. The Entertainer Part II

One Shot: Dressing For Revenge: Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him. Part II

@lukesaprince

Series: Intruder: You were an outside hire for a promotion Harry wanted, and he despises you for it. The hatred is mutual since Harry is a bit of an asshole, until the day of an important presentation where the tension is finally dealt with - A very steamy enemies to lovers romance (domrry)

Series: The Roommate Series: After Y/N’s best friend and roommate Alex decides to move out, she’s desperate for someone to take her place. Alex seems to have found the solution in a British fresh-to-New-York musician who ticks all the boxes. He just happens to be insanely attractive and charismatic… what could go wrong? (friends to lovers)

Series: Fratboy!harry You Can Pretend All You Want: You hate fratboys and everything they stand for, so you decide to prove one wrong by sleeping with him… safe to say it backfires (fratboy!harry, enemies to lovers).

Series: Rich: Neighbour/Older!Harry. A Summer dogsitting job for Mr. Styles is a dream come true for any broke uni student. He's rich, gorgeous and finally fucks you after your weekly dinner together. A series that follows two neighbours who end up in a sexual relationship.

@moonchildstyles

Series: Aster: Harry is a tattoo artist and y/n just wants to know if he's like this all the time or if he just doesn't like her. tattoo artist!harry / lhh!harry

Series: Citrine: Harry's a witch and it's been along time since since he's been around anyone new, but there's no way he was getting y/n out of his head. witch!harry

Series: Chiaroscuro: y/n needed a job but this place is strange and the owner is even stranger. vampire!harry

Series: Prosecco: Harry is just on the edge of 30 and y/n is someone he's sure he shouldn't get involved with. until she seeks him out anyway, and he realizes no one has ever really shown her how she should be treated. older!harry

@0oolookitsme

One Shot: Dazzled: In which Harry has an uneasy feeling about Y/n’s new mission but the devil ignores his guts’ screams. But the vampire as well as his fiancé, Y/n, isn’t dumb and is quick to listen and take some weight off of his shoulders. They both soon find out, why, he was feeling uneasy. 

One Shot: Anything For You... And I: SMUTTY!!!! Dwd!Harry x Dwd-Character!Y/n

@0nlythrowharrybeaux

Friends Share (2 parts):Harry & Y/N have been practically perfect roommates for several years but the appearance of a hot new neighbor creates an unexpected shift in their relationship.

Unavailable (2 parts): Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

@pleasingforharry

Moans & Elevator Music (2 parts): Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.

@purplekiwis

Breaking the Ice (2 parts): Hockey!Harry x Skater!Y/N It’s no secret that as a figure skater, you’re fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty… and your ex’s status as a player isn’t helping much either.

In the Witching Hours (will be 3 parts): Wizard!Harry x Witch!Y/N; Soulmates AU An emergency admission to the hospital gives rise to a series of strange events but luckily, there’s a cute, shy wizard around…

One shot: Tentmate: Friends With Benefits Y/N has always hated camping… until her and Harry got stuck together in the same tent. (This one is smutty AF)

@s-brant

Series: The Getaway Car: In a drug deal gone wrong, Y/N, daughter to a famous racecar driver, finds herself behind the wheel of a car with a gun to her head. A masked man named Harry demands she helps him evade the authorities, so she does the only thing she knows how to. She drives.

One Shot: Midas Touch: The night before they leave to spend Christmas with his family, a conversation with their friends makes Harry and Y/N confront the future of their marriage.

@stylesloveclub

Series: Pleasing: In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry is a Michelin star chef who thinks she’s cuter than a puppy. 

@swiftmendeshoran

Series: Curvy Secret/No More Secrets Daddy: Dad's best friend (dbf!) Harry x plus size reader

@watchmegetobsessed

Series: The Sun Will Rise: You’re glad to be back at college and away from your family. Everything is back to its normal, but you have a little issue: you told your family you’d bring a date to your sister’s wedding, but you have no actual partner. An unexpected deal is made with the person you couldn’t even consider to be your friend: Harry can take the spare room in your apartment for the semester if he’ll be your date for the wedding. But can you actually live together with a guy who obviously dislikes you and you have no idea why? Can you fool your parents into thinking you’re dating Harry? And what will they think about him? Nothing is ever good enough to them, nothing that’s not as perfect as your sister, Alice.

Series: Wildest Fantasies: You’ve been struggling to finish your assignment for Professor Styles’ Creative Writing class. Inspiration is seem to be avoiding you, so to relieve some stress, you mess around with your roommates and write a rather dirty fiction of the hot professor everyone is into on campus. Due to a fatal mistake however, you end up uploading the wrong file as your attachment to your assignment and your wildest fantasies end up in the hands of the person they are about.

Good Girl (Part 2): sugardaddy!Harry / CEO!Harry x Reader

@writerpetals (writes optional male lead smut but you can easily imagine any male *coughharrycough* as the males are described as tall, well-built, with a nice head of hair - read anything this author writes - it's good, you will find almost any trope - ENJOY)

One Shot: Lakeside: werewolf!au, werewolf x reader

@zayndrivesmeinvain

Series (wip): The One That Got Away: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone? dadrry x oc | single dad!harry

i hit my link limits so was unable to insert link to part one of their series. check out their masterlist and you'll find it!

Wattpad

1-800-TITS = @1800titz (added May 21)

Series: The Devil is a Gentleman: "My name is Eros," the masked male cocks his head a smidge at her, and, if only slightly through the shadow casts between the parted zipper, Isla catches sight of a smile tugging at his lips on the latter fragment of his statement, "But you already know that. I'd hope, anyways. We've had a chat. Or two." His lips - his mouth. Isla ogles the latex through the peepholes of her own and wonders what shape the rest of his features take, what carves and forges his face, how his nose slopes, the assemblage of it all. "I think I recall, vaguely," she teases. "Mm. Vaguely. I'll take note of that. Well, although we are acquainted," Eros smooths his fingertips over the arm of the chair, a lavish facade of plastic masquerading. The latter fragment of his statement prompts the steady bump of her heart to spur behind her ribcage. "You will address me as Master." Isla swallows. Despite her prior train of thought looping so intently on the tracks to decipher what she believes he'd look like beneath his mask, it's entirely derailed by the serious note in his previously light cadence. She wonders how a mere introduction manages to send such a thrilling rush rolling down her spine. Eros leans forward, forearms braced to his splayed thighs, almost as if to bend to her level. "Or Sir. Master, Sir, it's all the same to me. Your preference." OR the one in which there's a sex club, Greek stage names, the exploration of boundaries, an open house, a pair of dress shoes, and two sides of the same coin.

_miiki

Series: Artwork & Aquarelle: "Sierra, you go with Harry Styles." I raised up my head at the words, giving my teacher an incredulous glance. "Do I really have to?" Was the only thing I managed to say. The teacher gave me an annoyed look. "Did you not understand? You go with Harry Styles." I turned my head to look at him. At the mention of his name he glanced up, and if his green eyes hadn't frozen me in place already, the unimpressed look he gave me would've done it right away.

Aggressivelyfriendly = @aggresivelyfriendly

Series: Who Names the Colors: In the last year, Joanne Smith Giles, has once again become Jo Smith. In another heartbreaking turn of events, she's also the single mother of an infant, again. She knows she can do this on her own, and better at 40 than 19, but it seems weird to be launching a son into manhood, a new career as an art professor, and changing nappies all in one day. She is so thankful when Ethan, her boy, comes home from Uni. Jo could use the help. His best friend, Harry, comes round too. And his launch into manhood may be another heartbreaking turn, for all of them

ErinAlterEgo = @yourwattpadmom

Series: Late night Talking: Alex is craving something at night, and it's not ice cream. Encouraged by her husband to explore a polyamory relationship to meet some of her more....eclectic tastes, she finds herself on a dating app for the first time in her life. She expected maybe some interesting experiences, possibly her first one-night stand ever. She didn't expect to meet a man who made her question everything about herself. Harry is on a new path in his life that is exciting and different than he ever could have imagined. He's looking for excitement, experiences, but definitely not love and attachment. When he meets Alex, he sees a whole new path that he's unsure he wants to go down, but finds it hard to resist.

Hitterj (love all of her stuff!)

Series: All This Time: The coming-of-age story of Harry and Riley who have known each other for years, but never actually knew each other. They've spent countless nights at the same parties, shared a few drinks and glances, they're even on track to graduate top of their class. What happens when out of nowhere they start to connect? Like an invisible string pulls them together, so they can experience life and love and heartbreak. Riley and Harry learn a lot about themselves, and ultimately have to choose what's best for their future no matter how difficult that can be. But does love find a way? After all this time?

Series: Kiwi: If you don't know about this one by now... go read it - super duper smutty and sweet and angsty

Series: Sweet Little Lies: All her life, Ivy Malone has known what her family was. She grew up in the deep, unforgiving world of the mob. Ivy hates her position in life, knowing that her life was never fully hers. Harry Styles was cold. He trusted almost no one, especially his family. He had learned quickly that everyone was waiting for him to fail... to fall. An empire built by his father from the blood and bones of those who stepped in his way was all he had, no matter how much he hated it. He had no choice but to carry on the legacy. And marrying Malone's daughter was the next step in fortifying their defense. With new rivals making a move for power and a mysterious figure haunting the crime families of Queenstown, Ivy and Harry have to learn to live together. A bad start leads them down a tumultuous, passionate, and downright dangerous path, but maybe they were exactly what the other needed to live the life they always craved.

MysteryMixtapes (Just go read all their stuff)

Series: Stall & Stall 2: Violence/gangs/dark

Series: Perspective: Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying?

Series: Unforgettable: "If it feels so right, how can it be wrong?"

Peanutboyfriend (read all of Birdie's stuff - you won't regret it)

Series: Aerial: In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is.

Petit_cerise

Series: Devil's Due & Devil's Desire: Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back.

Sunflowersnstuff

Series: One Word & Wonderland: We're all mad here, it's Wonderland.

ThousandYearsOfHope

Series: Lonely Nights: Willow Mackey is a quiet girl, but she is fiercely loyal and will never lie to you. Harry Styles is her brother's best friend, and someone she'll always have a soft spot for. Grown up and no longer shielded by their ages, lines start to blur, and mistakes keep being made. For the first time in her life, Willow realises that sometimes, the truth is too painful to hear. But how could she ever say no to the one person that's always understood her better than she understands herself?

Series: Pretty Boy: One night of impulse shouldn't lead to much for Joni Lewis, but when she meets the alluring Harry Styles, an opportunity arises that she can't ignore. A Harry Styles short story inspired by Pretty Woman.

Writhali (I really like everything I've read by Thali)

Series: Ambit: Gangs/violence/action/SMUT - "Hell's boring, Birdie." He claims, that cold, dead stare back to his eyes. "And this, this is what I call a Monday night."

#gurugirl fic recs #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles fic #my faves

[heartfullofleeches]

Oh god V x loser darling would be a ship made in hell two deranged idiots together causing untold destruction

As mentioned in this post, V and Loser Reader seem to absolutely fucking despise each other on the surface, but while Reader might actually hate him - V is crushing hard and his feelings show when they attempt to leave his presence or talk to someone else. I imagine they met somewhere online- their first encounter being some dumb comment war beef between them or screaming match in a game lobby and when Reader roasts his ass, not realizing he's a serial doxxer and will release someone's address just for saying his favorite anime is mid, V gathers their information and starts to stalk them planning on ruining their life - but once he finally sees a picture of them his stupid ass immediately starts crushing on them and uses the information he's gained to scare them into dating him

-

V: Your argument falls through as you clearly have the vocabulary of a middle schooler. Even a literal child would be better at getting their point across that you. Can you even form one coherent sentence, you fucking parasite-

Loser Reader: Kys. Freak.

V: I'm going to dox you and your entire family. We'll see how brave you are when your address is posted for everyone to find

Loser Reader: Here's something to help you out, bitch. [Sends him a private message of themself giving him the middle finger]

[V quietly removes their username from the folder titled "hitlist" and saves the picture they sent him - adding it to different folder titled "Homework"] (spoilers: it ain't homework in that folder)

-

Loser Reader: I'm heading out!

V: Who the fuck said you could leave without me?

Loser Reader: Kiss my ass, Vince.

V:

V: I mean I'll do it, but you're still not leaving this house.

-

Loser Reader: Vince, can I use your credit card?

V: With the way you treat me? Fuck no.

[Loser Reader pulls out a pair of cat ears and puts them on]

Loser Reader: Vincey....

V: No, Y/n.

Loser Reader: but your kitty needs it. 👉👈 You don't want to have a sad kitty do you? Sad kitties don't buy maid dresses and cute lingerie with your money to make themselves cute, and submissive and breedable for you-

[V sighs and hands them his wallet]

Loser Reader, tossing the cat ears into the trash: Thanks, Virgin. Would've offered to suck you off if you held out a bit longer, but oh well~

V: ....I will report all of my cards as stolen if you aren't on your knees by the time I count to three

#V my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere #loser reader

[dark-fics-4-you]

Ahhh you knocked it out of the park!!! Thank you for doing my request (somno step bro Rafe). Would love if you did more or some virginity loss or something :) I feel like reader would catch Rafe being hard around her accidentally and get innocently curious

Saving the spicy stuff for a main chapters but I was inspired by this ask so here’s a lil blurb 😏

Rafe sat on the couch, scrolling through your instagram feed. Pic after pic of you at parties, past halloween costumes that were much too skimpy for you to be posting for just anyone to see, and photos of you posing with friends filled your profile.

He paused on a beach pic that you had posted a few weeks ago. Sarah was an excellent photographer, and you two frequently did little photoshoots together for each other.

You were in the sand, lying on your back on a blue beach towel, propped up by your elbows with your legs stretched out. The white bikini you were wearing barely covered anything, and Rafe could see your hardened nipples poking through the thin material.

His tongue darted between his lips, pants tightening as he grew hard. Rafe took a screenshot, saving the pic to his folder of his favorite pictures of you.

When he heard the door open behind him, he quickly pocketed his phone, glancing over his shoulder to see you bouncing in with a grin.

“Hey Rafey, I was looking for you!”

“C’mere bunny.” He gestured for you to come closer.

He wasn’t expecting you to climb into his lap for a hug.

You threw your legs over his lap, wrapping your arms around his chest and squeezing him in a hug.

Rafe tensed, trying to think about anything other than his adorable lil step sis sitting in his lap. Despite his efforts, he could feel himself getting harder as you squirmed.

“Do you think we could make a liquor run soon? I have that party with Sarah and John B and the other guys tonight!” You were clearly excited about the get together, a little too excited for Rafe’s comfort.

“You’re actually going to that?” Rafe asked in annoyance, trying to focus on something other than your bare thighs so close to him.

“I mean yeah, they’re my friends! I like hanging out with John B, Pope, Kie, and JJ!”

At the mention of JJ’s name, Rafe’s jaw tightened, jealously flashing through him.

He knew that JJ was just like all the other Pogues. No good trash from the Cut, who would steal and lie to get what they want. But Rafe’s qualms with JJ went beyond just Kook vs Pogue war.

Rafe knew that JJ liked you. It’s not like he had to be an genius to notice, he had seen JJ staring at you so many times that he had grown accustomed to hating the other blond even more than the rest of the Pogues.

JJ was nothing but bad news. The type of guy that slept around and broke new girl’s hearts weekly. The type of guy who would eat you alive if given the chance.

And the thought of JJ putting his hands on you, or even thinking about putting his hands on you, made Rafe want to explode with rage.

“You’ve been hanging around those pogues a lot recently,” Rafe spat out, jaw clenching.

“Ugh lighten up, Rafey. I’m here now, aren’t I?” You asked in annoyance as you rolled your eyes, shifting on his lap.

Rafe bit back a groan at the motion, passing it off as a cough.

“Damn Rafe, you gotta stop smoking, it’s already affecting your lungs,” you teased lightly, completely unaware of what he was hiding from you.

“Mm, hmm, you’re right bunny,” he said, distracted, mind somewhere much different than yours.

Suddenly, he remembered your plans for the night, and he was overwhelmed with the desire to keep you from going out, “you should stay in tonight, Y/N/N. We can watch a movie, one of your favorites. Plus I’ll make you all the drinks you want.”

“Mmm,” you considered his offer for a moment before making up your mind with an excited smile. “Okay! That sounds nice!”

When you shifted again, you noticed something poking at your ass.

“Rafeyy, do you have something in your pocket?”

“Oh uh, yeah, just my phone, Y/N/N,” Rafe lied.

And like the dumb, trusting little sister you were, you believed him.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #stepbro!rafe #stepbro!rafe cameron

[meangirls-imagines]

Could I request a Leighton x reader one shot where Leighton just recently came out and is new to the whole lesbian flirting thing so she tries to find out if reader is gay with the help of questionable internet advice?

Gaydar Issues

Description: Leighton is new to the Essex queer community and unlike her confident persona, she has no idea how to flirt. She meets Reader and develops a crush on her. She should not have gone to her roommates for help.

WARNINGS: fluffy as fuck, leighton being a gay baby, her roommates being dumb, leighton gay panicking.

Okay.

In hindsight, Leighton knew she shouldn't have gone to her roommates for queer flirting advice.

She had no other options.

Let's recap.

Ever since Leighton came out, she had found it difficult to talk to women in person and not behind a screen. She was two different people.

One had a seductive aura, luring her hookups in with a single smirk and making them see stars by the end of the night.

The other was a shy, nervous girl who had no idea how to flirt.

Leighton was struggling. She had tried to talk to Nico about it but him being a guy, gave her flirting tips that he does, which were gross. She tried to talk to Willow about it but the girl was no help. She flirted with athletes, who she had something in common with.

That was it! Leighton just needed to find someone who had something in common with her! Easy peasy.

Plot twist: it's not so easy peasy.

Leighton had decided to scout out her math class to see if she had any hot female students in there with her. She had one, and she had already hooked up with her and didn't really feel anything with her.

It had gotten to a point where Leighton was starting to give up, but as she walked out of class, she saw the most gorgeous girl talking to Bela, of all people.

Leighton froze as she looked at the girl. She was stunning, the smile she was giving Bela was melting Leighton's heart. The girl had on some black skinny jeans, white converse, a white crop top and a jean jacket on.

Leighton could tell she had great fashion sense, even if the outfit was casual. She could hear her laugh from where she stood and it became her favorite sound in the world. Before she could go over and introduce herself, the girl hugged Bela and walked the other direction.

Bela began walking towards Leighton as the blonde fell in step behind her.

"Hey Bela! How are you today?"

Bela looked at Leighton confused but played along. "I'm...fine. Leighton, are you okay? You never ask about my day." The blonde smiled at her. "What are you talking about? I always ask about your day. I had a question."

Bela laughed, "There it is." Leighton rolled her eyes. "That girl you were talking to, who was she?"

Bela smirked. "That's Y/N. I'm trying to get her to join my comedy club. Girl is hilarious." Leighton nodded. "Yeah. Could you introduce me?"

Bela smiled. "Ooh does someone have a crush?" Leighton blushed hard. "Bela! Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I have a crush on every girl!." Bela smirked again. "Yeah, yeah. I'll introduce you."

The next day, Leighton was walking across the campus courtyard when her name was yelled. She turned to see Bela and Y/N walking towards her. She instantly got nervous as the duo approached her. She straightened herself up and smiled at the two.

"Hey Bela!" The duo reached her as Bela held out an arm. "Y/N, this is Leighton. Leighton, this is Y/N, the newest member of my comedy club!" Y/N stuck her hand out for Leighton to shake. The blonde shook it, thinking about how soft her hands were before snapping back.

"Congrats! Bela was telling me how funny you are!" Y/N blushed. "Thank you! It's so nice to finally meet you! Bela has told me a lot about you, though she didn't mention how pretty you are."

Leighton's jaw dropped. A blush took over her features as she stuttered on her words. Y/N smirked and looked at Bela. "I'll see you later okay? Bye guys!" She walked off as Bela stared at Leighton shocked.

"Leighton. Are you blushing?" Leighton shook herself off and glared at Bela. "I am not!" She stomped off as Bela smirked. She pulled her phone out and texted Whitney and Kimberly.

"Leighton needs an intervention."

Leighton didn't know what to expect when she got back to her dorm, but it wasn't her roommates staring at her. It scared the shit out of her. "What the hell are you guys doing?" Kimberly gestured to the couch. "Please sit."

Leighton sat and looked at them confused. "What is happening?" Whitney sighed. "Leighton, it's come to our attention that you don't know how to talk to girls. We are here to help you."

Leighton's jaw dropped as she slowly turned to glare at Bela. "You told?!" Bela sighed. "I'm sorry! But you need help. Y/N is so into you!" Leighton glared at Bela. "Do you know if she's even gay?" Bela sat silently for a few seconds. "Uhh...no?"

Leighton pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

Whitney decided to save Bela. "She told us Y/N called you pretty! That's a sign, right?" Leighton directed her glare to Whitney now. "Girls call each other pretty all the time Whitney!"

Kimberly, ever the voice of reason, finally spoke. "Leighton, I think for now, talk to her, get to know her, and then maybe if she's comfortable, she'll tell you. But don't just outright ask her. So that way, if she isn't, you can remain friends."

The room was silent for a moment before Whitney and Bela voiced their disagreement of the plan and began to bicker about how Leighton should handle it.

Leighton was stuck on Kimberly's words. "Talk to her." "Get to know her"

That's what Leighton was going to do.

She spotted Y/N the next day walking out of the library and quickened her pace to catch up. "Y/N!" The girl turned and saw Leighton. A bright smile came across her face as she waved. "Hi Leighton! How are you?" Leighton fell into step with Y/N. "I'm good! I actually wanted to ask you something."

Y/N nodded. "Ask away." Leighton took a deep breath and asked the question. "Do you maybe wanna hang out, later? We can study together in the library. If you want!" Y/N blushed and nodded. "Yeah, sure! Can I get your number?"

Leighton felt her heart rate increase. She handed her phone over to Y/N, who put her number in quickly before handing it back. "Text me when you wanna meet up later." Leighton nodded before the girl smiled at the blonde and walked off.

Leighton fought the urge to do a happy dance.

Step one, done.

After a few weeks of hanging out with Y/N, Leighton discovered she was down badly for this girl. The more they hung out, the more Leighon's crush grew. Her roommates tried to hype her up to ask the girl out, but she didn't want to embarrass herself.

It all came to a head one day at lunch, the day that the roommates deemed, "their baby gay grew up".

Leighton was sitting at the table with her roommates eating lunch when Y/N approached. "Hey guys!" The girls greeted Y/N, not so subtly looking at Leighton, who blushed.

"Hi Leighton." The blonde smiled and quietly said hi back. Y/N cleared her throat. "If you weren't doing anything tonight, would you maybe wanna go to dinner and a movie tonight? I know this really good burger place a few miles from school."

Leighton blushed. Her brain was unable to function and she stuttered on her words once again.

Kimberly answered for her. "She would love to! She doesn't have any plans tonight!" Y/N smiled and looked at the girl. "Great! I'll pick you up at say 6:30? Dress casual." Leighton nodded as the girl walked off.

Her roommates squealed as the girl blushed harder. "We told you she was gay! You got a date!" Leighton smiled at how happy her girls were for her, joining in on the squealing, not noticing Y/N watching with a wide grin.

When Leighton came home later that night, hearts in her eyes and swollen lips, the roommates squealed again, sitting her down and making her give them the details.

Their baby gay really had grown up.

#leighton murray x reader #leighton murray imagine #leighton murray