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roosterforme · 4 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst

Length: 5900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.

"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."

"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment.

"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."

You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family.

"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest.

When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."

"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.

The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."

You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"

He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."

"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"

Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted.

As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway.

You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.

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By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask.

But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.

So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"

"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.

"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say.

"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.

"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"

You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."

After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday.

The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies.

Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you.

Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."

"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"

"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.

Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob.

"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him.

"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."

You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."

He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."

Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food.

"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."

"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.

You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy.

Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder.

"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.

After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."

Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly.

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Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling.

He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home.

You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.

Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom.

"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead.

After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."

He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.

"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time.

"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"

He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."

You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."

He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."

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When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.

"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace.

The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne.

You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping.

It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself.

While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp.

Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.

When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.

You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.

Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.

"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.

Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.

"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours.

"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned.

You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."

"I didn't like her touching you."

His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."

You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."

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Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago.

When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans.

He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned.

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top.

"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted.

He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.

"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."

He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"

You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."

And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.

On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off.

He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation.

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You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense.

No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night.

As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep.

"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."

Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."

Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."

"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."

"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."

Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."

You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now.

It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you.

"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"

"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.

"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"

"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."

Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed.

You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.

"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."

You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."

He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"

You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"

He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying.

"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick.

"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around.

"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled."

"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."

He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"

You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out.

When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start.

You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet.

"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.

When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.

You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper.

Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes.

Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted.

You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty.

"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.

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Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

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norrizzandpia · 7 months

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I have one need and it is smut with Oscar so I was thinking something with Reader being lando's little sister and she's staying in Monaco with him but he has to go back to London for like 2 days which means she has the house all to herself and she invites Oscar over (who is her secret boyfriend) and they spend the night together (full of love and cuteness) but Lando comes home early and when he goes to her room to wake her up he finds her all cuddle up and cute with Oscar and he pretends he hasn't see anything because he just can't get over the fact that his little sister and teammate are together in that way

I LOVE THIS 👹👹👹👹👹👹

The Quiet Night and the Loud Morning (OP81)

Summary: It was bound to happen at some point.

Warnings: smut 🤭 CUTENESS OVERLOAD WITH BABY OSCAR 🤧🤧

Note: I JUST LOVE THIS IDEA

“Y/n?” Lando chirped from the other room.

“Yeah?” She answered, putting down the book she was reading to stare at the wall in concentration for his next words.

His footsteps filled the boring silence before he came into the living room, plopping down on the couch beside her, “I have to go to London for work for the weekend. I imagine you don’t want to come with because you just unpacked all of your stuff here, but, if you do, you can.”

She pondered the idea for a minute before Oscar’s smiling face was popping into her head and visions of an intimate weekend alone together flashed in her mind. At that, she looked up at her brother, feigning distaste, “No, I’m good. Thank you though.”

He nodded curtly as he got up from the couch, “Alrighty, no problem. I leave tonight, so I can be there tomorrow morning for the Saturday meeting. You’ll be okay alone here until Monday morning?”

Alone, her mind laughed, but her face told a different story, “Yeah. I’ll just watch a bunch of movies and live out my lazy life.”

Laughing, Lando retreated back to his room to pack, “No surprise there.”

—

“Osc!” Y/n yelped into her phone a few minutes after Lando’s car had left.

“Yes, baby?” He responded in his usual soft tone.

Her smile, though he couldn’t see it, made him smile as she said, “Lando had to go away for the weekend, so the house is completely empty. COME OVER!” She exclaimed, squealing loudly as she walked in circles around the kitchen island.

His laugh and rummaging of, what she could infer, was his bag and keys was what she was met with on the other side of the phone, “Okay, okay! I’m leaving as we speak. Should I bring a change of clothes?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Mmm, yeah, I would. I don’t plan on having you leave until the very last moment.”

Wishing he was already there to kiss her, Oscar threw a pair of pajamas and a random outfit into a duffel, “Sounds like a great plan, my love.”

—

Opening the door, Y/n flung her arms around her boyfriend. He stumbled back, laughing and kissing her forehead lightly with his arm around her waist as he took in his favorite scent.

“I missed you,” She whispered into his neck whilst he dropped his bag down so he could fully envelope her in his warm embrace.

“I missed you too, Y/n,” He whispered back before walking them into the house, leaving her for only a moment to grab his bag and throw it through the threshold.

Once the door was closed and they were truly alone, the couple went back to their previous position. It had been weeks since they were able to see each other, that is alone. They had seen each other a few days before, but with engineers and Lando around, stolen glances and lingering stares were all they could take.

“What do you want to do first?” He asked her, pulling back to take in the beautiful face which he had only been able to visit in his dreams for the past time.

His adoring smile made her blush and the way his hands pushed back her hair made her fall in love with him even more, “Movie? Did you have dinner?”

He nodded slowly, “I did, yeah. Did you?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, sort of. Lando leaving meant that we didn’t end up getting dinner and it threw me off, so I just had a granola bar.”

His eyebrows shot up, “Alright, so first thing’s first. We get you some dinner.”

“Oscar,” She whined, “You don’t even know how to cook.”

He shot her a look over his shoulder as he traveled toward the kitchen, “I can make you boxed pasta, Y/n.”

“Are you sure?”

—

Forty minutes later and Oscar was pushing a bowl of buttered noodles with cut up tomatoes and sausage toward Y/n who was sat sluggishly at the counter.

“You’re positive this is edible?” She asked hesitantly, eyeing the bowl as if it had just threatened her life.

His nodding head came into view as he sat beside her, one hand on her back and the other laying on the island, “Yes, baby. I’ve made it so many times before. Just eat please.”

One last glance toward him and she was nodding, allowing the hunger she felt to motivate her actions. Her big smile at the first taste told Oscar he hadn’t actually fucked up the recipe he had tried to execute without a sheet of paper telling him what to do.

Their conversation flowed as it always did, with loving comments and suggestive jokes. Y/n fell all over again for Oscar’s smile and Oscar fell all over again for Y/n’s character.

After she ate the last noodle, she smiled at him as he picked up her dish whilst laying a kiss on her forehead. He washed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher without evening flinching, as if it was his own home. Y/n couldn’t help, but dream of a time when it was really his home. His and hers.

Nevertheless, her wishing halted when he turned around and leaned against the sink, “Now, movie?”

His question was answered with Y/n whirling around in her chair to hop off and run toward the living room. He chuckled before following her, finding his girlfriend already curled up in all the blankets on the couch and sifting through all the streaming platforms to find something for them to watch.

“How about Minions?” She laughed, clearly amused with the movie choice.

However, what she thought would be a disgusted veto from Oscar was a warm smile and nod.

She stared at him, “You actually want to watch Minions?”

He shrugged, “I’ll watch whatever you want to watch.”

—

An hour later and the two had around thirty minutes left of Minions. Their bodies connected, legs tangled with his hands firmly placed around her torso as he pulled her flesh against him. She wasn’t even watching the movie, too comfortable on Oscar’s chest to move her head. He seemed to notice, laying his head on top of hers as he murmured, “We can go to bed?”

She shook her head as she lifted it from her comfortable place on him, “No, it’s okay.”

He smiled at her, a lazy smile that she knew was only meant for her, “Okay, love.”

His hands guided her back down, however, this time, he laid fully on the couch, so she could lay her entire body on his. With his hands in her hair then trailing up and down her back, Y/n whispered, “Ever think about a time when we could just do this without having to hide?”

He glanced down at her, “Yeah, sometimes, but we decided keeping it a secret was the best thing.” After seeing her hesitation, he added, “Right?”

Her hands pushed against his chest as she sat up, her thighs on each side of him as her hair fell down toward him, “Yeah, but…” When she bit her lip in nerves, he started rubbing her thighs, “I love you, Osc. I want to be with you outside of a room.”

He tilted his head on the pillow he laid against, a small smile evident on his features, “I love you too. Of course, I want to be with you in public too, but I always thought you were uncomfortable with it because of Lando.”

She nodded, “At first, yeah, but that was before I fell in love with you and realized I really saw you as the rest of my life. Honestly, I’m more uncomfortable being a secret with you than telling Lando.”

Oscar nodded eagerly, “Well, if that’s your perspective. I’m all in. I’ve always been all in with you. If you’re okay with telling everyone then let’s do it.”

Her face broke out into a grin, “Really?”

His nodding continued as he tucked her hair behind her ears and cupped her face, “Of course, baby.”

Whether it was Oscar who pulled her down first or Y/n leaning in on her own, the two never knew. All they knew was that their lips met and the realization that they were putting their entire beings into the hands of the other was evident. The thought made every touch and graze of hands gentler, softer. His hands lightly explored her hips before resting on her waist, pulling her closer to him as he slipped his tongue passed her lips.

Y/n moaned, a sound he had already committed to memory, and lightly rolled her hips against his.

He pulled back, “You sure? In your brother’s house?”

She giggled, the blush a deep red on her cheeks and nose, “I have a room we could go to.”

He nodded, lifting her up so swiftly off the couch and maneuvering through the directions she gave him to get where they needed to be. Through giggles and miscommunicated instructions, the two were lovesick by the time they reached her room and closed the door.

Usually, Oscar would stalk toward her, take what he wanted and be as rough as he knew they both wanted. Although, as he stood in front of her door, he gazed upon her as if she was the most beautiful sunset he had ever laid his eyes on.

A gorgeous view that he realized was the most perfect part of Earth.

He wasn’t quick to get her on the mattress, in fact, he took his time getting there. Through kisses and slow removals of clothes, he walked them back to her white duvet, laying her down and being so struck by her beauty even Y/n couldn’t deny it herself.

She watched as his eyes trailed from her shoulders, down to her boobs, then to her stomach, back up to go over her arms, then slowly down again to take in her thighs and the clothed space between them, her shins, and then back up to meet her eyes.

With a light smile, he whispered into the quietness of the moment, “You’re so incredibly beautiful, my love.”

She was halfway to tears when he leaned forward and kissed her so intensely, she felt it in her toes. With Oscar, it never felt casual and she never felt as if she was some random person he was bedding to fulfill fleeting urges.

It was always about the love he had for her.

Oscar’s hand grazed the length of her body as it traveled down and disappeared below her panties, his lips never stopping on hers. With precision and thought, he began to gently circle her clit, easing her into the pleasure as he always did. His other hand held himself up above her as she moaned into his mouth, a sign that he could speed up.

Her hand on his bicep and the other around his waist, Oscar replaced the finger on her clit with his thumb and slid his digit into her.

She had tried to keep kissing him, but he could tell she needed to have the space and air to be vocal. So, he pulled away slightly, a small gap between them large enough that he could admire her blissed out face while also being impossibly close to her.

Her eyes closed and her moans continued as Oscar added another finger and sped up. Quiet whimpers made Oscar whisper, “I love how you sound, baby. Always do.”

At that, she moaned louder, chanting his name as he continued to increase his rhythm before the coil in her stomach was snapping and she was coming around all over his hand. His toothy, lopsided grin was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again, an innocent, adoring smile on his face as if he hadn’t just made her cum.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.” He whispered into her mouth before kissing her, trying to allow her a breath before they went to the next level.

Her nervous smile told him he needed to continue, “I’m serious, Y/n. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid my eyes on. I’m not just being this way because I feel romantic. No, I’m doing this because, while sometimes I can contain myself, right now I can’t. You’re so pretty to me. Every time I look at you, I notice a new thing to fall in love with. Whether that’s the faint freckles on your nose or the mole right at the top of your leg, I’ve never loved every inch of someone the way I do with you. I’m so hellbent on kissing every part of you, physically loving you as a whole. I love how I can remember the way you smell and whenever I come across it I think of you and how much I love you. I love how soft and warm your hugs are after a hard day or a bad race. I never want to let you go because I know I’ll never find anything, anyone, as beautiful as you.”

Her teary eyes were remedied with a long kiss at the end of his speech as he slowly took off her panties and slipped off his after. His eyes boring into hers and whispering how much she meant to him, Oscar pushed into her.

His building pace made her eyes roll back into her head and his groaning into her neck.

A chant of “You’re the only one I want to ever do this with” leaving his lips as his hips rocked against hers.

“Oscar,” She moaned, nails digging into his back as he continued to go faster.

“Y/n, so good. So so perfect for me.” He moaned, pulling back to look her in the eyes and throughly communicate how much she meant to him.

Her hands tangled in his hair and he moaned loudly, “Fuck, Y/n, just like that.”

Her moaning continued, body going limp at the consistent pleasure surging through her body. When Oscar’s hand came to cup her cheek and pull her to his lips, kissing her with all his might and letting her know she wasn’t the only one so obsessively consumed by the connection they shared, she lost it.

Her moans turned into screams as he snapped his hips faster, chasing his high, but, most importantly, hers.

Looking her in the eyes, Oscar’s soft ones encouraged her, “My love, let go. I’m right here with you. Always.”

With that, she came hard around him, yelling out his name as he came right after her.

When, during times with other boyfriends, she would feel used and filthy, with Oscar, as he laid slightly on top of her, she felt special. She felt like she was the only person to have ever understood him for who he truly was.

She felt cherished.

She felt protected.

She felt wanted.

And, yes, she felt loved.

Turning over, her eyes met his and she smiled.

“Thank you,” She murmured as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/n, you don’t need to thank me for an orga-” He began.

“No,” She interrupted, looking into his eyes and making him understand, “Thank you for showing my what love is.”

His eyes softened, his hands immediately pulling her into him again and drawing the blankets over their naked bodies, “Baby, you mean everything to me.”

She nodded, smiling back at him, “I think I’m starting to see that.”

—

Lando’s confused face appeared again when his sister didn’t answer her phone. Irritatingly, he had only needed to go into one meeting, so he was off the hook by the morning. He didn’t want to stay in London, choosing the option of hanging out with his sister as the more important one, so he had caught the next flight out of Heathrow.

Private jet be damned.

Although, when he pulled up to his house and she still hadn’t answered, he thought it was bit strange. It was eleven am and she was usually up at this time, tired, but up.

Nevertheless, he figured she had stayed up late last night and slept in way late. That inference was confirmed when he walked through the door and it was dead silent.

However.

What he didn’t expect to see was an all too familiar duffel bag sitting on the floor of his foyer. The orange letters that spelled out ‘Oscar Piastri’ accompanied with the McLaren logo gave him whiplash.

There had to be some reasonable explanation, he thought, there was absolutely no way his teammate was here. Alone. With his sister.

Being the nosy person he is, Lando opened the bag and peered in to see the belongings, wanting to confirm it held Y/n’s things. Maybe he leant it to her, he tried, but when he saw men’s underwear and a box of condoms, his jaw fell agape.

Standing up abruptly, Lando made his way to his sister’s room. When his hand met the coolness of the door handle, he said a silent prayer to any supernatural being out there that could stop the inevitable from meeting his eyes. Per usual, that plead went unheard when he pushed the door open quietly and saw Y/n, his sister, asleep in bed with Oscar’s, his teammate, arms holding her strongly to his chest. His little sister’s face was toward him as it laid on the bare chest of Oscar, giving him the ability to see how peaceful she looked, more peaceful than she usually looked when unconscious.

Suddenly feeling like he was intruding on an intimate moment, Lando shut the door.

His brain reeling, he sat himself on the living room couch, no clue what had taken place on that very sitting area not even twenty four hours before. He sat with his thoughts for an hour or two before he heard the door to his sister’s room jostle and, finally, open. Out stepped a giggling Oscar and a smiling Y/n, a sight to see in Lando’s mind, as they failed to see the other person in the room.

“I think that might’ve been the best sex we’ve ever ha-” Oscar’s face went pale when he turned to walk toward the kitchen only to meet the face of Lando, the last person he wanted to hear that sentence come out of his mouth.

At his abrupt stop, Y/n turned around as well, jaw agape as she screeched, “LANDO?!”

His hands rested on his knees as he looked at the two of them. What a good couple they would make, he thought, seeing how Y/n was more comfortable in herself around him.

“I got let off early so, I came home. Didn’t expect this though.” His eyebrows wiggled as Y/n approached him, a paralyzed in fear Oscar behind her, “Lan, I am so so sorry you found out this way. We wanted to tell you on our own-”

The brother shook his head, “No, I get it. I’m not mad. Shocked, yes, but, not mad at all. I’m just happy you found someone as good as him.”

Her entire demeanor softened as she glanced back to Oscar, his mind slowly coming back to him, before turning back around and smiling, “Me too.”

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

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Steve and Eddie go through the whole adoption process in 1996, despite how difficult it was to find somewhere willing to help them at all and despite their conflicted feelings on adoption.

The way they saw it though, providing a loving home for a child who needed one was better than the alternative. Eddie had enough experience with temporary foster homes to know stability was better than constant moving and questionable foster parents.

They get a foster placement almost immediately, a six year old girl named Amelia. She’s quiet, but not in a way that worries them. She’s very focused, and enjoys going to school more than any regular children’s hobbies. Neither of them know what to do with that other than keep encouraging it.

She stays for months, months turn into a year, and the agency finally gives them the go ahead to complete the adoption process.

But they don’t do anything without talking to Amelia.

She’s happy there, her therapist signs off on it immediately and explains that Amelia has shown more personality development and less signs of trauma with them than she had even living at home. Not to mention they actually brought her to appointments, unlike her previous guardians.

To celebrate, they throw a party with all their friends and family and tell Amelia she can invite anyone from school she wants. She invites everyone.

Turns out their daughter is a social butterfly and is friends with everyone.

At the party, Eddie pulls out his guitar, plays a bunch of popular kid-friendly songs after a very scathing look from Steve as a reminder to behave.

Amelia walks over to him after a few songs, on a sugar high like he’d never seen on her before, and asks to play the guitar.

He’s hesitant, but not because he’s still protective of his guitars, more because he doesn’t want her to embarrass herself in front of her friends. Kids are cruel, even and especially at seven, and the last thing he wants is this to be the thing that kids talk about for the next ten years.

She sits on the couch and holds it, arranging her fingers…correctly. Eddie watches.

Steve is watching from across the room.

She starts strumming, very quietly at first, not as confident as she’d been a moment ago. And then she starts really playing.

It’s one of the songs Eddie wrote. He played it for the last four months nonstop as he perfected it, and she’d apparently been watching.

Eddie’s jaw is on the floor and he quickly looks over to Steve, who has a similar look of surprise on his face.

He doesn’t interrupt her. She makes it through the entire song.

She looks up.

“When did you learn to play guitar?” Eddie asks.

“When I was watching you.”

“But have you played before tonight?”

Amelia shook her head, looking down. “Didn’t wanna touch it without asking.”

Eddie pulls the guitar from her hands and sets it aside, then pulls her into his lap and hugs her. Steve sits down on the couch next to them, hand on her back.

“You can always ask, sweetie. And if you’re this interested and this natural, we can buy you your own guitar if you want. I didn’t think you were interested in playing.”

“I wanna be like you,” Amelia admitted against his shoulder.

Eddie was done for. He looked at Steve, half-panicked, trying not to cry in front of these people, but Steve wasn’t faring any better.

“Then we can go get you a guitar tomorrow. You can get your own picks, too. They might even have purple ones.”

“Can I have red? Like yours?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

It only took them two days after that to realize she could play by ear, just like Eddie.

And then it only took another day after that to realize she had taught herself to read music too.

They spent hours and hours every week playing together while Steve cooked dinner or checked her homework or just watched them.

When Eddie’s band decided to record another album and go on tour when Amelia was 12, Eddie insisted that she get to be on it.

She ended up helping write one of their songs, played on the track on the album, and with a lot of work, convinced Steve to let them homeschool her for the entire 8 months they’d be on tour so she could perform on stage with her dad.

“Can’t believe she’s not even genetically yours. Are you sure you didn’t have an affair?” Steve asked the night before they were leaving for Europe.

“When would I have had an affair? I came back to the tour bus or hotel with you every single night,” Eddie kissed him softly. “She’s amazing, huh?”

“She is. What happens when she wants to be a full blown rockstar like her dad too?”

“Then we make sure she’s protected and has good people around her like I have. She could be a rockstar easily. She’s got the talent and the presence,” Eddie smiled. “And she’s got me to make sure no one takes advantage of her. But she’s only 12. We’ve got time to worry about that later.”

“You’re bringing her onstage every single night all over the world for the next eight months, baby. I think later is now.”

Eddie sighed. “She’s gonna blow them all away. I’m proud of her. Let’s focus on that for now.”

And she did blow everyone away. The fans and the media had nothing but good things to say, and Steve didn’t have to go into overprotective mom mode at all until she was 15 and signing a record deal of her own.

But between Eddie and him, the entire industry knew better than to fuck with her or them.

They made rules, of course. School still came first, she still had required family events to be at, she still had regular friends at home. She wasn’t allowed at any parties, not even the events for award ceremonies.

But she didn’t really need those rules. She had no interest in parties or abandoning her friends or family, and she was a straight A student who still had hopes of getting into Brown for Journalism like her Aunt Nancy. She had a passion for music and wanted to share it, but not at the cost of the rest of her life.

And Eddie and Steve did everything they could to make sure she got to have everything. That’s what they’d promised her from day one.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #so adoption is complicated #and I won’t pretend that there are plenty of aspects of the system that are so fucked beyond repair #and this is not the time or place to talk about them #so don’t do that in the comments #you’ll get blocked tbh because we’re here in this specific space to have fun #that is all #steddie dads #also this isn’t how the industry works #this isn’t how the media works #the world is cruel to young performers #but we’re pretending #this is fiction

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occamstfs · 2 months

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Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home.

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew:

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it.

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass!

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #twinkification #jockification #straight to gay

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied.

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered.

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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formulalfc · 1 month

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hi baby, is it possible do a smut w jude bellingham and size kink? i though at jude and reader having a fresh relationship and they hadn't sex yet bc shes a virgin but ofc they both want it... but when things gets "hot" between then jude just back off and pretends nothing happened and this makes reader upset... one day she decides to confront him and say that she feels rejected when he does that and ask jude if he doesn't feel attratec by her... jude feels upset w himself for making her feel like this but the truth its that he's scared to have sex w her bc shes a virgin and he dont wanna hurt him since their size difference is so big... and when he says this she thinks it funny but so cute at the same time... they talk about it and she makes clear that she want to have sex w him and trust on him... so jude is all caring w her and makes everything special for reader's first time

this ended up being wayyyy longer than i thought, i hope you enjoy lovely <3

you had tried to initiate things with jude a few times over the last few weeks but he always seemed to brush you off, letting you guys make out for a bit before he pulled you off him. it was starting to make you feel really insecure and like jude was unattracted to you, turning to your friends for advice, all of them telling you that you should tell jude how you feel. and so you did, going over when you knew he was done with training for the day, hoping you guys could get through this. you sit him down and explain how you feel, cheeks hot with embarrassment as you talk. jude's heart shatters as you talk to him, unable to form words at how upset he is that you feel like he's unattracted to you when you are the most beautiful woman in the world to him. he explains to you that it is definitely not because he isn't attracted to you that he's been pushing you away but because he's worried he's going to hurt you due to the size difference between you both. you breathe out a sigh of relief knowing that you weren't the problem, before letting out a giggle at the flustered look on his face. you tell him that you really want to go all the way with him, you trust him with this, watching him as his face lights up. he tells you that you guys have to take it slow, cause he doesn't want to hurt you and he wants to make it special for you. he takes you upstairs, stripping you slowly getting you all worked up before stretching you out with his fingers and his tongue. he's obsessed with how small your body looks underneath his, the way he can wrap a hand around your waist. he's gentle when he fucks you, letting you take him one inch at a time, and giving you as long as you need to get used to the size of him, before speeding up. both of you are moaning like there's no tomorrow, your skin slapping together and sweat coating both of your bodies. jude makes sure you finish before him, clenching around him as you whimper his name, triggering his release straight after. he's so gently with you afterward, cleaning up the mess you both made and massaging your thighs before settling your sleeping figure down on top of him, kissing your forehead before he too drifted off.

inbox is open send me some ramble requests <3

#blurbs with shan ;)#jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x reader #real madrid #england nt

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allocnddits · 3 months

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Heyy

Do you think you could do (with any driver) things start to get heated but then reader stops him cause she hasn’t shaved (anything) in a few days and she’s embarrassed of her body hair. Then her bf is just like "why? I have it too and you don’t care, I don’t care if you shave or not" then points to all his body hair. And then she feels a bit more comfortable

(You can turn it into smut if you like)

made it with our three time world champion, hope you like it

You had finally gotten time away from work to do a quick stop at one of your boyfriend’s races. It had been weeks since you last saw each other so the second Max got you in his room he was all over you. In seconds you were thrown on the bed, him on his side as he kissed down your neck and grasped at your tits almost desperately. The hand travelled down your shirtless torso meeting the waistband of your sweats. You stopped him as soon as his fingers slipped in.

“What’s wrong?” his face lifted up from your neck, confused.

“It’s just, i haven’t, you know, it’s not nice.”

“Is it sick?” he worried.

“No, it’s not sick, for fucks sake, Max”

“Then what the fuck is it?” he asked impatiently, getting back to kissing your neck as his hand now cupped you through your pants.

“My waxing appointment was tomorrow but now i’m here and i didn’t have time to shave” you blurted out. Being in a relatively new relationship had any girl worried about this kind of thing, what if he was disgusted or disappointed or didn’t want to touch you because of it?

“You gotta be fucking kidding me” his hand immediately moved into your sweats again this time not giving you time to protest. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Love, first of all i couldn’t give less of a fuck; second I don’t think i can say anything about it, you never complained about mine” he attached his lips to your neck again, hopping you would finally shut up about it.

“Maxie, you know it’s different”

He rolled his eyes so far back into his head, letting it fall on the crook of your neck, feeling defeated. “And why is that?”

“Mostly because my mouth doesn’t go directly on your hair.”

“It kinda does though, so just shut it, admit you’re wrong and let me do this, yeah? Thanks.” He flipped on top of you, landing between your legs, lips kissing every inch of your naked chest and stomach.

“Maxie,” he shushed you the second you opened your mouth “was just gonna ask you to take your shirt off, please, wanna feel you.”

“Yeah, sorry” he knelt up and took it off, taking the chance to pull off your pants and underwear too. He kissed you again and lowered himself so you could feel his warm skin against your chest. You groaned at the sensation of your hard nipples getting attention again before he lowered himself back down laying completely between your legs now.

Your boyfriend’s hands wrapped around your legs, throwing them behind his back and pulling you closer till your heat was right in his face. He kissed all around it, your thighs, your love handles and right where your legs met your hips. When he felt like he was done teasing he kissed right on top of your clit catching it in his mouth as his fingers circled your hole. He teased it, filling you with anticipation till you were pushing your hips down to get him to fuck you.

“Patience, love, want you to get real worked up for me.” he whispered against you, his warm breath hitting your folds and making you shiver.

His other hand was on your waist, thumb caressing on the soft skin under it. Max was taking his time with it, getting you wetter and desperate. So when he finally penetrated you with his fingers they slid right in, two at once, making you squirm and clench aground them. He smirked against your folds, feeling all the control he had over you.

Max’s fingers started curling inside of you, getting you to see stars as they hit your cervix over and over again. He was making a mess of you just with his mouth and fingers he could barely wait to get his cock in you. His tongue worked on your clit, the movements that were once lapping now turning into circles with the tip of it. At this point your hands were all over his blondish hair, pulling, tugging and running your fingers through it and he loved every second of it.

Max realized you were close when your moans started getting more intense and your legs started closing against his head but that was restricting his work so he locked his arm under your thigh again, his forearm laying on your stomach as his hand pressed down on your uterus. Your head flew back with the new intensity, feeling every single movement of his fingers now. You felt your orgasm growing inside with force and snap when Max took your clit into his mouth again, sucking harshly.

“Fuck, baby, oh my god” you sighed, out of breath as he continued to abuse your clit and milk the spongy spot inside you with his fingers. You tried to push him away –reluctantly – when it became too much but he was stronger than you and stayed there till he managed to pull a second wave of your orgasm, this time making you squirt shyly.

He pulled his face away to watch as the liquid dripped around his fingers “So fucking hot, love, hand me my phone” You look down at him, confused “c’mon, wanna take a picture, keep it for when you’re away.” he pointed at the bedside table where his phone rested.

You handed it to him, camera already open and he pointed it at your wet cunt, curling his fingers one last time to make you react. You were a hundred percent sure that the live picture caught your strangled moan and the gushing sounds as he finally pulled out of you. He knelt up between your legs – your wetness definitely leaving a spot on his shorts – and stood there for a second as you admired him before looking at his fingers, then at his phone on the other hand and then at your lips. Max pushed his wet fingers past your lips making you suck them clean and snapping a picture with a smirk on his face.

“Have i ever told you how hot you look when your hair is messy and your face is wet from my pussy?”

“Probably, yeah. But i’m sure it’s not as hot as you with my cock deep in your cunt”

#f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #a writes

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

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hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #clarisse la rue

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tenelkadjowrites · 11 months

Text

Wallflower - Part One - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Summary: Having not given much thought about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, all of that changes when you hear a rumor about his sexual prowess in bed.

🌻 Word count: 13k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. reader is drunk at one point. smut. some dirty talk. fingering, oral sex (reader receiving)

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” You say with a huff, plopping down in the chair, clutching your coffee in one hand.

“What kept you?” Your coworker and friend asks, glancing at the time on her phone, “We got here ten minutes ago.”

“Sir Dipshit was busy boring me to tears about the sales numbers for this week,” You reply with an eyeroll, “What did I miss?”

It’s Thursday afternoon as well as your lunch break. As usual, your group of work friends met at the coffee shop across the street from the office. Sitting outside on the patio, the sun high in the sky with a light breeze, it would be a perfect day if you didn’t have to return to work soon. Sometimes, being inside all day at that desk is a bummer…more often than not recently, it’s been an incredible bummer.

“Nothing much, we were just complaining about the usual,” Your other coworker says before taking a sip of her green tea.

It is a daily event to go to the coffee shop at lunch and complain about everything – your coworkers, the corporation you all work for, the daily tasks. It is a ritual, something that gets everyone through the day, including yourself although lately it hasn’t been helping as much as it used to.

“We have that office ‘party’ this weekend,” You remind them which elicits a series of groans among the small group, “And Sir Dipshit made it pretty clear it’s mandatory to attend.”

Your boss, otherwise known as Sir Dipshit, lived to work and worked to live. The man had no existence outside of dedicating his entire life to a corporation that wouldn’t care if he dropped dead tomorrow. The last thing you felt like listening to was a lecture for the next twenty years about missing the event. It ended up being less pain just to suffer through it.

“At least the booze is free,” One of your coworkers points out.

“Remember last year when that guy in senior management drank way too much and threw up on the bar counter? I live for the moments like that at these events,” Another coworker sighs wistfully, “It’s so funny plus gives everyone something to talk about Monday morning.”

At that moment, someone cuts across the street, heading towards the coffee shop. You recognize the person as Seonghwa, who is technically on the same team as you although he works on the tech side. You say ‘technically’ because you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him on one hand.

One of your coworkers leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Speaking of things to talk about on Monday morning, guess what I heard about the resident nerd?”

Confused, you glance over at Seonghwa who is almost at the door to the shop. Today, he wears a white button up shirt with black suspenders, matching slacks and shoes. His glasses are almost comically oversized, black frames that rest on the bridge of his nose that seem too large for his face. The wind is messing up his sandy blonde hair which he keeps trying in vain to smooth down as he walks over.

“Someone is talking about Seonghwa?” You say doubtfully, “What is there to talk about?”

Seonghwa is the biggest nerd you’ve ever met and it isn’t just the suspenders and the large glasses that give you that belief. His desk is littered with the sort of items you’ve always associated as nerdy and he’s always reading some gigantic book based off some sci-fi or fantasy thing. He also works in software and coding or something which means you never understand what the hell he is talking about most of the time during work meetings and tune him out.

“Oh, this is a good one, trust me.”

Seonghwa notices the group then and gives a small wave. Everyone halfheartedly waves back as he goes inside. You really doubt the rumor is going to be anything interesting. Seonghwa seems relatively harmless and you’ve given him such little thought over the past two years working near him that you doubt anything could suddenly make him interesting.

But your gossipy coworker looks positively gleeful as she goes, “You remember how there was that big conference everyone in tech had to attend two weeks ago? They all flew out for it?” When you and the others nod, she continues, “Well, apparently Seonghwa hooked up with one of the regional IT managers.”

You raise one eyebrow. “Okay, and? The most surprising thing about this is that Seonghwa is getting laid.”

At this, one of the other coworkers speaks up, “Seonghwa is a nerd but he’s good looking. That’s not really surprising.”

“I can’t tell if he’s good looking cuz his glasses are gigantic,” You fire back, “I didn’t realize there were people sitting here who wanted to fuck Park Seonghwa.”

Everyone breaks into bickering at this remark until your coworker with the gossip speaks up loudly to silence everyone. “Okay, shut up please. I am not finished!” Once all attention is back on her, which she is clearly enjoying, she drops her voice to a whisper. “Anyway, Seonghwa hooked up with one of the regional managers after that big party they have on the last night of the conference. She said she figured why not because she’s a regional manager on the other side of the country so she didn’t have to worry about awkwardness in the work place –”

“Can you please get to the point sometime this century?” You interrupt.

She shoots you a scowl before saying, “She said not only was Seonghwa the best fuck she ever had but apparently he has a gigantic dick.”

“Bullshit,” You counter immediately, “No way.”

This creates another round of bickering about if Seonghwa could really be the best sexual encounter of someone’s life. You are steadfastly against the idea.

“What about the trope about nerdy guys with big dicks?” Your gossipy coworker argues.

“That’s fanfic shit,” You fire back, “Maybe this manager has just one or two other people she’s slept with so Seonghwa is the best out of a small sample size.”

“Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ and dicked her down so well she could barely walk right the next day.”

“Yeah, sure,” You scoff, “I’m not saying she didn’t sleep with him but maybe she’s…jazzing the encounter up to make a good story.”

It is then that the subject of the gossip exits the coffee shop. Seonghwa gives the group another small wave and this time looks perplexed when everyone bursts into giggles as they return the motion. But he continues back to the office, holding a coffee in one hand. You watch him go, shaking your head.

“Sorry, I just don’t believe it. A wallflower like that being some dynamo in bed? No fucking way.”

Back at the office, you glance at the clock. An hour until I can get out of here, you think. It wasn’t that you hated your job, it was just that it was super fucking boring most of the time. But the money made it worth it – at least that’s what you told yourself when the alarm went off in the morning and you wanted to hide under the blankets.

Idly, your eyes scan the room, landing on Seonghwa’s cubicle. Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ and dicked her down so well she could barely walk right the next day. You scoff quietly before pushing away from your desk, wandering over to Seonghwa’s cubicle.

He is studying something on the computer screen, slightly leaned forward with his back towards you. Your eyes look over the small space. There are some things you recognize – little decorations like small lightsabers – but a lot of things that you have no idea what they are from or what they represent. His cubicle is incredibly tidy, organized with each personal item displayed at such a way that makes it clear he has decorated the space for himself and not to send out a certain image to his coworkers. Cubicles, the original method of creating a carefully curated image to put out into the world before Instagram, you think dryly.

You hover there, wondering why the hell you came over here in the first place. But before you can leave, Seonghwa must sense someone standing there because he looks over his shoulder. At the sight of you, his eyes widen slightly and he swivels in his chair.

“Ah, sorry! Were you waiting there long? I didn’t hear you say my name.” He ducks his head apologetically.

“It’s fine,” You reply curtly, “I was just wondering if you were attending that work party this weekend. I’m trying to get a head count,” The lie comes swiftly and easily without much thought.

Seonghwa pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You study him for the first time, trying to see past the glasses, his messy hair and the dorky clothing. Seonghwa has always been slender, and tall, with almost a fragile delicateness to him. You’ve never given him much thought until now.

“I plan to be there, yeah,” He says and then smiles brightly, “Are you going too?”

“I am, yeah,” You grumble, “Anyway, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

You turn around, walking away from his cubicle. No, that didn’t clear up anything at all.

As soon as it hits five, you shut the computer off and grab your bag, anxious to get the hell out of there. Sometimes, the office just felt so…small and suffocating. You wanted to get out immediately. Swinging your bag over your shoulder, you hastily walk towards the elevator. Half of the floor is doing the same with a few people staying late.

Seonghwa is one of those. As you slow down your walking speed near his cubicle, you look in his direction. Seonghwa is turned to the side, flicking through a folder filled with papers. He looks focused, brow furrowed, as he tries to find something. His work lanyard sways slightly and his tongue is poking out a little from between his lips. He runs his fingers through his hair, paying no mind to how messy it already is.

There is just no fucking way that rumor is true, you think again, frustrated with yourself for spending so much time mulling it over today.

By the time you make it to the elevators, you have resolutely told yourself to put it out of your mind.

“Do you want to go grab coffee?”

“Girl, it’s ten in the morning. Little early for a break, you think?” Your coworker says in mild confusion.

“Yeah, I guess so,” You mumble, “Didn’t realize it was that early.”

“Anyway, I gotta finish up this TPS report this morning or Sir Dipshit is gonna have my head,” She pats you gently on the shoulder, “But we can grab coffee later, alright?”

She walks past you quickly, already lost in thought. You stand there for a few seconds before turning around to head back to your cubicle. Seonghwa is walking across the room, heading towards the giant copier near the window. Today he has a light blue button up on with khaki slacks although the large black glasses still remain. Someone passes by him, saying good morning and Seonghwa looks up, smiling and returning the greeting.

How can he look that happy here? You wonder, And how are his teeth so perfect looking? That’s something new you’ve noticed – his incredibly white teeth whenever he smiles.

Before you can ask yourself what the hell you’re doing, you walk towards him. He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy fumbling with the copier that barely works properly on a good day. But when you get close enough, Seonghwa looks up.

“Oh, good morning,” He says brightly, “How are you?”

Something about his energy, his welcoming posture and his smile makes you feel exposed in some odd way.

“I don’t want to be here,” You say automatically without thinking and then grow deeply embarrassed at your confession, “Sorry, I – hm. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, right? I don’t know – I don’t know why I said that.”

Seonghwa studies your face for moment and then replies, “No, it’s okay. Would you like to go to the break room with me and get a coffee? I forgot to have a cup before I came in.”

Leaping at the excuse to not sit at your desk, you nod. Seonghwa glances at the copier and shrugs, giving up on making it work. You trail after him, wondering why in the world this rumor has made you seek him out yet again and why you just openly admitted to a relative stranger that you don’t want to be at work right now. I must be so fucking bored, you think.

Walking a little bit behind Seonghwa, your eyes study the way the fabric of his shirt rests against his skin before looking at how his belt lays against his small waist. You try to imagine him fucking someone into the mattress but your mind comes up blank. The rumor being about this man in particular just doesn’t make sense.

In the small break room, which is empty due to the time, Seonghwa begins to brew a pot of coffee, chattering the entire time. “I stayed here too late last night and I’m having a hard time getting going this morning. But I am hoping to finish this project before the weekend so I can move on from it. I feel like I’ve already spent too much time on it and I’m going to fall behind.”

You sit down at the tiny break room table, making a small noise to indicate you’re listening.

“I won’t have time to work on it this weekend because I had to move my plans around for that work party. Originally, I was gonna have my DnD session –”

Confused, you speak up, “Your what session? What’s a….Do Not Disturb session?”

This brings Seonghwa up short and he turns around, peering at you through his glasses. “No, my…Dungeons and Dragons session. You know?”

You don’t know. You think you may have vaguely heard the name in the past because you have a mental image of people hunched over a table looking at a board game. It must show on your face because Seonghwa quickly keeps going.

“But now it got moved to Saturday afternoon so I can make it on time which meant everyone else had to rearrange their schedules. Boy, I still haven’t heard the end of it.” He pours two cups of coffee, glancing over his shoulder, “Do you want cream and sugar?”

You tell him your preference and he continues, “But the boss made it clear he’s gonna be pissed if we don’t go so I kinda feel like my hands are tied.” Seonghwa stirs your coffee and brings it over, resting it gently on the table before turning back around to make his. “I don’t really like work parties. I am not really a party person.”

“You don’t say,” You retort dryly, unable to imagine Seonghwa at a club at all.

He finishes with his coffee, sitting down across from you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. He smells like clean laundry. There isn’t a single wrinkle in his shirt. Everything about Seonghwa is a mixture of nerdy and professional.

“Sorry, am I talking too much? I get told I’m a chatterbox.”

“You’re fine. I don’t have anything interesting to say anyway, honestly. I just…didn’t feel like working this morning, I guess.” You look down at the cup of coffee, wondering why you feel increasingly uneasy at your job as of late.

Seonghwa falls silent for a moment and when you look back up at him, he averts his gaze quickly, clearing his throat. “It’s the routine. Gets to all of us. That’s why our free time is so valuable. You have to make it worth something to remember life is more than just…this.” He gestures to the surroundings. “You know, this is the most I’ve talked to you, I think. I know our jobs are pretty different so we don’t overlap a lot though.”

You hunch your shoulders forward, blowing on the coffee. Some part of you just wants to ask him – hey, I heard a rumor you’re a great fuck and I don’t understand how a thing could be possible. But that would be out of line so you keep it to yourself. You doubt Seonghwa is even aware such a rumor is going around about him.

Seonghwa’s smart watch beeps then and he looks at it before mumbling a curse under his breath. “Sorry, I forgot I have a call I need to be on in five minutes,” He stands, “But I’ll see you around?”

You are staring at the way that his long, slender fingers are curled around the disposable coffee cup. Were his fingers always that…dainty?

Seonghwa says your name and it snaps you out of your staring, looking up at him. “Right, yes. I’ll see you around. Thank you for the coffee.”

“It’s no problem,” He gives you a small wave, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts.

If there is one thing you’ve been increasingly disliking lately, it’s your job. The second thing? Staying late for the job. It is ten minutes past five and the anger you feel sitting at your desk while listening to Sir Dipshit is enough to make you shriek.

You aren’t even sure what he is talking about. It began as a lecture about some e-mail you missed this morning and has now turned into a diatribe about his own day and how busy he is.

You are trying to pinpoint when your job started feeling like a weight around your neck. You make good money. You work for a major corporation that offers job security. You have your own place. Everything is neatly lined up. But blurting out to Seonghwa, of all people, that you didn’t want to be here this morning has made you start to really think. And you aren’t sure that you are going to like the answer.

As if conjured up by thinking about Seonghwa, he pops out of his cubicle with his bag, getting ready to leave for the day. As he brings his bag strap up around his shoulder, his shirt tightens for a split second against his chest. You blink, wonder if you just hallucinated how the fabric pulled against hard muscles. Seonghwa looked like he could be shoved in a body of water and his wet clothes could take him down. Thinking there was some hot body underneath all those clothes is just you creating things out of boredom.

His eyes land on you and he gives you a small smile. Sir Dipshit is oblivious, still going on. You’ve made making sounds of interest while not hearing a single word an art form at this point. To your surprise, Seonghwa walks over to you, nodding his head over to Sir Dipshit.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to interrupt but its ten minutes past five and I need to discuss something with her on the way out today,” He makes an apologetic face, “Sorry boss, I hope that’s alright.”

Sir Dipshit looks mildly startled as if being woken up out of a deep sleep. For fucks sake, even his brain goes on auto pilot with boring everyone to death. You aren’t about to turn away a rescue and quickly get out of your chair, grabbing your bag swiftly.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. That thing –”

“Right, that thing,” Seonghwa says, nodding vigorously.

“The thing with that call tomorrow! Yeah, let’s talk about that on the way out. Have a good night, sir,” You shoot this at your boss before turning around to walk out as quickly as possible to Seonghwa.

“Alright, uh, good talk!” Sir Dipshit calls out after you, “See you tomorrow at the party!”

Your back is to your boss as you rapidly press the elevator button. The doors glide open and you hurry inside as Seonghwa follows who immediately presses the button to shut the doors on the slim chance the boss wants to follow. He waves jovially until the doors shut.

“Thanks,” You say, “Was it that obvious I was trapped?”

“I just know how long he can talk for.”

“Nice touch there with the ‘ten mins after five’ thing.”

“Yeah, figured I would slide that in there and remind him the work day was technically over although honestly, I don’t think it stuck.”

“Probably not but I still appreciate it. Can’t stand how much Sir Dipshit talks.”

Seonghwa laughs at this, “‘Sir Dipshit’?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard that one? Yeah, it’s just what we call him.”

“I’ll have to keep it in mind.”

Seonghwa smiles at you, the sort of smile that feels as though you are standing directly underneath the summer sun as it warms your skin. The elevator doors open and the two of you walk across the main entrance hall of the building which still has a few people buzzing around.

“You park in employee parking?” You ask him, “What spot are you?”

“Oh, my place is close enough that I bike to work,” Seonghwa replies as he slides his bag straps onto his shoulder so it is now a backpack, his thumbs slipping underneath the straps as he holds onto them.

The sight of him in such a pose makes you think of those movies in which the nerds always walk like that. The only thing he’s missing is some tape around the middle part of his glasses. It strikes you once more how Seonghwa is just so not your type. Maybe the regional manager in Wherever the Hell city went for nerds like him but not you. No wonder she thought fucking him was the best sex of her life – Seonghwa is a walking nerd stereotype.

“Oh,” You say, mostly because the idea of biking to work seems so foreign of a concept, “I have to drive like twenty minutes or so to my place. You don’t have a car?”

“I do! It’s just…a gigantic piece of shit so I try not to drive it too much. Trust me, my bike is safer most times,” He replies, holding the door open for you.

“Thanks,” You say, stepping out into the evening air.

The sun is dipping behind the city skyline which makes you feel wistful. It seems like such a shame to spend all day inside.

“Well, I should head out now. I wanna pick up this new Lego kit that got released today. It’s of an Imperial Star Destroyer and I placed a preorder on it months ago.”

“Legos? Like those…building kits? With the blocks?”

“Yup,” He says cheerfully, “I love building Lego kits. It’s relaxing and keeps my hands busy.”

Reflexively, you glance at his hands wrapped around the straps of his bag. You swallow hard, feeling weird for some reason.

“You uh…like keeping your hands busy?” You say and immediately regret saying something that could be perceived as flirting.

But Seonghwa seems clueless to any potential interpretation and just nods. “Yeah, I also like painting those miniatures for DnD, you know?”

You absolutely don’t so you just give a non-committal nod. You picture him painting a tiny teapot or something, a look of avid concentration on his face as he worked, the tip of his tongue poking out as his long fingers hold onto a small brush.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” He says, nodding his head at you, “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Seonghwa turns around, walking confidently down the sidewalk to the other side of the building where his bike must be waiting. You watch him as he goes, taking note of how his legs take long strides and people subtly move out of his way. Once he is gone out of view, you slowly make your way to your car, unlocking it and sliding into the driver seat. You stare at nothing in particular, wondering why you feel the way you do. It’s a mixture of dread at the work event tomorrow, anger that your little time away from the office is spent with people from the office, and something else that you cannot pinpoint.

It’s relaxing and keeps my hands busy.

“You’re really losing it,” You say aloud to yourself and start the car.

The rain smears the lights of the bar, distorting the building into a dark, grey smudge. You have delayed going inside for ten minutes now, struggling to motivate yourself into yet another ‘team event’. A few years ago, you didn’t mind these things. They were a bit dull but still manageable. But now, you can’t ignore the pit of dread in your stomach at spending more time around people you already spend too much time around.

With a small intake of breath, you get out of the car, scurrying quickly to the overhang before you can get too wet. Then, as if preparing yourself for battle, you exhale slowly and open the door.

You’ve arrived an hour late, something that you know Sir Dipshit will take note of, but it proved an impossible feat to get there on time given your mood. Your band of coworkers notice you immediately, waving you over.

Your eyes scan the crowd as you walk over, greeting them. It is too early in the night for anyone to be drunk yet and so the air is stiff, slightly formal, with top 40 pop radio playing a little too loudly.

“Fuck, you’re so late,” One of your coworkers says, “We were just wondering if you were gonna blow it off.”

“And I said you wouldn’t because Sir Dipshit would never let you live it down. And also that if you didn’t at least tell us you weren’t coming, we would be pissed.”

“Right,” You reply, not listening very much at all.

“Hello?” Your gossipy coworker waves her hand in front of your face, “Who are you looking for?”

“What?” Startled, you look around at the table, “I wasn’t looking for anyone. Just was seeing who was here.”

“No one interesting, if that is what you’re hoping,” chimes in one of your coworkers.

“Although,” Your gossipy coworker leans forward, lowering her voice, “Seonghwa is here tonight and I’m bored enough to want to see if the rumors about him are true.”

“He’s here?”

Your coworker motions in his direction with her drink. You follow to see Seonghwa at the bar alone, nursing a water. No one is talking to him but he doesn’t seem to mind much. He’s idly bobbing his head to the music while checking something on his phone.

Tonight, he’s wearing…are those yellow suspenders? You groan inwardly. His shirt is also a very pale yellow with small blue buttons. His pants are a soft grey, a belt looping around his waist with his shirt tucked in. As usual, his hair is a bit of a mess. He looks like a total dork, you think dismally.

“Looking tragic as usual,” One of your coworkers remarks with a giggle, “Please tell me you’re not actually going to try to have sex with him.”

Your gossipy coworker shrugs. “I mean, that rumor is pretty alluring. Maybe his nerd act is just a front and there’s something nasty lurking underneath.”

Your brain flashes back to him making you coffee in the break room, not minding it was ten in the morning or the fact you had blurted out that you didn’t want to be there. You suddenly are bored of the conversation and bored of talking about Seonghwa as if he is unauthentic.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” You murmur, leaving the table and all their discussions of Seonghwa and what he is like in bed behind.

To your chagrin, Sir Dipshit sees you and waves you over. In no mood to talk to him, you wave back, pretending that you don’t understand he is trying to beckon you. At the bar counter, you order something, mentally calculating how much time you can spend here before leaving and not hearing any complaints from either your coworkers or boss.

As you wait for the drink, you idly glance down the bar. Seonghwa is all the way at the other side. Someone is talking to him although you don’t recognize who. He seems engaged in an easy conversation, his shoulders relaxed. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and leans back against the bar counter. The shirt tightens against his chest and upper arms –

Okay, you’re not hallucinating. Seonghwa definitely is in shape judging by the muscles pressing against the fabric. You swallow hard, your eyes trailing down his stomach to his waist.

She said not only was Seonghwa the best fuck she ever had but apparently he has a gigantic dick.

“Ma’am?”

Snapped out of your thoughts, you turn your attention to the bartender who has clearly tried to get your attention multiple times. Mumbling an apology, you take the drink. Your cheeks feel a little warm so you take a swig, liking the way it burns on the way down.

You are looking for your gossipy coworker, wondering if she was really going to try to sleep with Seonghwa. For some reason, the idea of having to listen to her talk about it makes you wanna scream and you aren’t even sure why. But the growing crowd has swallowed her up. Why do I give a shit if she has sex with Seonghwa? I barely thought about the guy until that rumor anyway.

“Hey.”

The voice startles you, lowering your gaze directly in front of you. Seonghwa stands there. Up this close, the lights of the bar lay across his skin as if cozying up to him. He still is holding onto his water, his long fingers circled around the cup casually. You swallow, looking away from his hands.

“Oh, hey, Seonghwa,” You try to think of something to ask that isn’t tied to the rumor about him and his big dick, “How was your…uh what was it again?”

“DnD?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, the group was still upset we had to shift the time back and the session was cut to six hours.”

“Six…hours?”

“Yeah, we usually aim for…maybe eight or more, depending. Enough to make good progress in the campaign.”

You have absolutely no idea what the hell he is talking about so you just nod.

“Hongjoong, oh sorry, that’s my best friend, well, we were supposed to do a dungeon today and he was upset cuz we didn’t finish it like we hoped cuz San’s bard got cursed so that sorta derailed everything.”

“The bard got cursed,” You deadpan.

“Yeah, Yeosang didn’t roll high enough so we got sidelined by dealing with that. But I mean, that is just part of the campaign right? It’s Jongho’s first time being dungeon master and he’s spent weeks putting this whole thing together. We weren’t sure how it was going to go because typically Hongjoong is the dungeon master but Jongho really wanted to try it.”

You have understood exactly two or three words the entire time Seonghwa is speaking but you are actually kinda relieved to be talking about something that has nothing to do with work. Taking another swig of your drink, you think of a question so Seonghwa will keep going.

“Do you do this every week?”

“Oh no, it would be too hard to try to have everyone’s schedule sync up weekly. There’s eight of us, after all. So sometimes a couple times a month – that’s what we shoot for.”

“Oh there you are,” Your coworker interrupts, slinking up with their empty glass, casting a glance over at Seonghwa before looking at you knowingly.

Their expression makes you feel defensive although you can’t pinpoint why. Flustered, you say, “Was just getting a drink.”

“Hi Seonghwa,” Their smile is slow and lazy across their face, “How are you?”

If Seonghwa has any idea as to why they are acting odd, he doesn’t show it. He just smiles in that bright way of his, greeting them by name. Your nerves are buzzing underneath your skin and you gulp down the rest of your drink before turning to the bartender, motioning for another one.

“Wow, making sure to take advantage of the free bar,” Your coworker quips in a tone that you mislike – in fact, you are starting to question your friendship with everyone in this entire building.

“You know it,” You mumble although your coworker doesn’t hear.

Seonghwa, however, does, and the look he shoots in your direction makes you feel as if he is rooting around in your brain and seeing every dreadful thought you’ve ever had.

Two hours later, you are drunk.

It is a mistake and you know it. You’ve never gotten drunk at a work function before. It’s unprofessional, for one, and secondly, drunk people at work parties tend to always make asses out of themselves.

But wow! It made talking to everyone so much easier. The mundane conversations about work slide through your brain like a lazy river in which you mentally bob in. Your coworkers, who are rehashing the same gossip they have all week – which unfortunately means more discussions about Seonghwa’s sexual prowess in bed – are pleasant hummings in your ear that you steadfastly ignore.

At some point, you have found a quiet corner that is near the bathrooms and the back exit. Slumped against the wall, you close your eyes as the floor wobbles unsteadily underneath your feet. You’re going to have to either Uber or ask for a ride home from a coworker. Neither sounds enticing but since you can’t drive, it’s your own fault. Surely, two hours is enough time here. Sir Dipshit will be too swept up in the drunken dancing that has started on the dance floor since everyone is now feeling intoxicated enough to embarrassingly do that in front of one another.

“Fuck, there you are. I’ve spent ten minutes looking for you,” Your gossipy coworker has suddenly appeared, ruining the solace of the spot you’ve found, “I’m bored and heading out. I tried talking to that Seonghwa guy a couple times and it’s like listening to paint dry. No sex is worth that. Are you coming with me? You clearly can’t drive,” You’re staring at your shoes and don’t reply. Your coworker huffs, “It’s really not like you to get plastered at these events. You’ve been acting so weird for months now.”

“Sorry,” You mumble although some part of your brain is annoyed that she is bringing this up now when she is well aware that you’re not sober.

“It’s fine, whatever. Just make sure you get an Uber or something, alright? We can get your car after work Monday.”

You hear the click clack of her heels as she saunters off, leaving you alone again. You’re feeling sleepy. It tugs on your brain like an annoying child. If the world stopped spinning for half a second…well, until then you will stay right here.

You aren’t sure how much time actually passes but someone’s shoes come into view next to yours as you stare at the floor. Surprised, you raise your head and find yourself looking at Seonghwa. A new song kicks up, with a heavy bass that seems to thrum up along your spine and into your brain.

“Seonghwa,” You mumble, blinking a few times to make yourself appear less intoxicated.

It doesn’t seem to work because he goes, “Hey, are you alright?”

For some reason, lying to him doesn’t enter your mind. “No. Also, I’m drunk.”

“I sorta gathered that,” But there is nothing mean in his words, it is just merely noting a factual observation.

Your hazy gaze focuses on Seonghwa. He appears to be perfectly sober. You recall him drinking water earlier. Good idea. You should have done the same. Now, a headache that is thumping in time to the music is beginning to grow louder. Your eyes drop down across the curve of his neck to his shoulders down to his small waist and you swallow, closing your eyes for a moment to banish whatever the hell is going on with you.

“Excuse me,” Someone says, storming past the two of you to head to the bathroom, colliding into Seonghwa as if he isn’t even there and pushing him towards you.

But your reaction speed is terrible, slowed by the alcohol and when your hands go to his abdomen to stop him from colliding, it is like an electric current snapping all the way to your thighs. Seonghwa is extremely close but there is no booze scent clinging to his clothes. And to your utter shock, the skin underneath your hands is firm and toned. Fuck, you think dizzily, see, I wasn’t making it up. But it didn’t matter if Seonghwa was fit or not – he just simply is not your type. You barely understand what he’s talking about most of the time.

He says something then but the music is too loud as is the rushing of blood to your head. His lips move, lips that are way too pretty and plump, by the way, not that you care, and you shrug, unable to hear what he is asking. He looks inquisitive but you’re distracted by how lithe and slender he is. Too pretty! Not your type! You scold yourself.

“Do you wanna dance?” You blurt out, cutting whatever he is saying off.

His eyes widen through his thick frames. Your hands are on his waist now and the two of you are almost pressed against one another. His cheeks are slightly flushed with just a hint of colour and when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs. He replies but you give a frustrated shake of your head.

“I can’t hear you!” You shout, probably way too loudly.

Seonghwa leans forward, centimeters from your body. He is bringing his face towards your neck and your heart skips a beat so intensely that for one drunken second you worry it’s going to pop out of your chest.

“I don’t really dance,” His voice seems to fill up your entire brain, taking over every sense you have, the cadence of his speech making your head swirl.

You think about the rumor about him and for the first time, maybe because you are drunk, allow yourself to wonder if it is actually true. There are lots of stereotypes about nerds – and not just that they have big dicks like your coworker said. There is the stereotype of them being virgins, fumbling around with no knowledge as to what to do. You just assumed Seonghwa belonged in that group from the little interactions you’ve had with him.

But if you were wrong…

When he pulls away, his face is near yours. He looks shy and when he glances downward, you know he is looking at your hands on his hips. You wonder if he is hard, wonder if you pulled him against you if you’d feel his big hard dick against your thigh. Your eyes flick to his hands, nervously flexing at his sides. Without the sober shield filtering out the thoughts you’ve been trying to steadfastly ignore since the rumor landed in your ears, you think about how fucking long his fingers are and how they’d feel buried in your cunt. For someone who isn’t your type, it sure is difficult not to want him.

Seonghwa pulls away then, tugging on the collar of his shirt for a couple of seconds. Your hands fall away from his body, his absence like a bucket of cold water being dumped on your head.

“You’re drunk,” This sentence is loud enough to hear – although is it directed at you or a reminder to him?

“I heard a rumor about you,” Your words are slurred.

“About me?” He says incredulously and then goes, “Should I call you an Uber?”

“Is your shitty little car here? Can you drive me home? I don’t…” It’s so difficult to concentrate in here. “I don’t feel safe being drunk in an Uber. I feel safe with you.”

The admission would take you by surprise if you weren’t spending a ton of energy in trying to stand upright. You’re so tired and the booze is tugging you downward.

Seonghwa looks taken aback but he nods. “Yeah, I drove here tonight. I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you,”

He glances at the crowded bar and gives a small shake of his head before pointing to the back exit. “Let’s go this way.”

You slur out some sort of affirmative answer as Seonghwa carefully leads you out into the night air. The fresh air makes your head spin and for a split second, you worry about throwing up. Luckily, you keep it together and Seonghwa takes you safely around the side of the bar towards his car.

“Wow, what a piece of shit,” You remark at the sight of the rust bucket.

“‘She may not look like much, kid, but she’s got it where it counts’,” Seonghwa recites as he unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for you.

Swaying on your feet, you go, “Are you quoting something at me?”

“It’s from Star Wars. Well, episode four, specifically.”

“Right, I knew that. I saw that one. I think.” You manage to get into the car without making a complete ass of yourself.

Seonghwa ducks his head inside to bring your seatbelt across from you, buckling it in securely. Some of his hair falls in front of his face while doing so and you can smell the faint hint of jasmine.

“You smell good,” You mumble, “What shampoo is that?”

He chuckles softly, pulling away and closing the door, walking around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. His car is clean even though it’s so old that it has a CD player. It also vibrates a lot as if the engine is trying to escape.

You rest your head against the back of the seat, so tired that you are going to doze off any second. Synthwave music plays quietly as Seonghwa snaps in his own seatbelt.

“What’s your address? Hey, don’t fall asleep yet on me.”

You tilt your head in his direction, opening your eyes. He is looking at you with his fingers curled around the steering wheel. You wonder what it’d be like to sit in his lap. You wonder what noises he makes when he is turned on.

"I heard a rumor about you,” You say again sleepily.

“Yeah, you mentioned although I don’t know what anyone has to say about me. What, do they say I LARP or…still use IRC or something?”

“Dunno what either of those are.”

In the darkness of the car, the lights from the radio and CD player dance across Seonghwa’s skin. You want to pull on his suspenders when you ride him. Your thighs clench. You can’t recall a time you’ve been this horny recently and it’s over the nerdiest guy to ever work in the office. Something is totally wrong with you, as confirmed by your coworker earlier in the night.

Seonghwa angles his body towards you, one hand still on the steering wheel. “Then what is it?”

A very tiny logical part of you is trying to get yourself to shut up. But the much larger drunken part of you is not thinking clearly, is not even thinking ahead a little bit at all so you blurt out, “There’s a rumor going around that you’re really good at sex.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen so large that you might as well fall into them. It’s too dark to know if he is blushing but he turns away from you, staring out the front dash of the car.

Oblivious to whatever he might be feeling, you continue, “And also that you have a big dick.”

“W-what?!” He exclaims, still unable to look at you.

“Right? That’s what I said. I said…no way! No offense.”

He is silent, mulling this over. In fact, you are almost half asleep by the time he replies carefully, “That’s why everyone is talking to me this week. I was wondering why…I just thought…I don’t know what I thought…” He sounds almost dejected and it makes you feel sad. “I mean, including you.”

Suddenly feeling ashamed, you try to say something but the words come out garbled because your drunken brain doesn’t jive well with the sudden panic that hits you.

But Seonghwa shakes his head, brushing the word salad to the side. “You’re drunk so we won’t talk about it now.”

You go quiet as does he. The silence seems to stretch into infinity. You want to apologize but he isn’t wrong. You did start talking to him because of the rumor. Maybe that makes you just as bad as your gossipy coworker debating having sex with him. But then you think once again of the kind way he made you coffee, and the fact he had you exit the bar from the back so everyone wouldn’t see how drunk you are. You weren’t lying when you told him that he made you feel safe. But you’re just too drunk to try to formulate any of that into words.

Your eyes close, losing the battle against sleep. You are distantly aware of Seonghwa asking for your address again but it’s too late and you drift off.

When your eyes open next, they are looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, your head is throbbing and your mouth is so dry that your tongue is stuck to the roof of it. With a small groan, you sit up slightly, trying to remember what the hell happened and where you are.

You’re in someone’s bed which would be alarming if you weren’t still completely dressed in your clothes from last night. The only thing missing are your shoes since you spot your large purse next to the closed door. The bed sheets smell clean and you aren’t even under the covers, just laying unceremoniously on the top. There is a dresser on one side of the room that has a familiar looking robot built out of Lego parts resting on the top.

It’s the sight of Legos that bring a whole slew of memories back to you. The drinking, your coworkers discussing Seonghwa – oh God, Seonghwa. You recall the way he looked, how he felt so close to you, him offering to drive you home and then –

You groan again, burying your face in your hands. Fuck, I told him about the rumor, my big drunk mouth. He had looked crestfallen, hadn’t he? He must have assumed the random uptick in people talking to him this week had been for a reason but not for that…

Including you.

The words he uttered bounce around in your head, the guilt sliding around in your stomach like disgusting jelly. For a split second, you think you’re going to vomit because of the hangover but manage to hold things down. Very carefully, you swing your legs out of bed and stand up, closing your eyes as your head throbs painfully.

Stopping only briefly to look at a bookshelf in the corner that had the largest and nerdiest assortment of books possible, you open the bedroom door and step out into the living room.

The living room is just a tidy space, clean and comfortable. The window shows the blue sky and the tops of trees, indicating you’re not on the ground floor. There is a stack of books on the glass coffee table. A large PC is near the window with three monitors. Another small table near the front door has a low hanging light over it, littered with paints and miniatures alongside multiple Lego boxes on a smaller shelf.

The couch has a pillow and a blanket on it. Another stab of guilt hits your chest. He had given up his bed for you.

You hover in the doorway, taking in the fact that the living room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all. Slowly, you walk across the space towards the kitchen where you find Seonghwa. He is making coffee and looks up at the sound of you entering.

“Hey,” You say quietly, “What uh…time is it?”

“It’s a little past ten. So, not too late. Would you like some coffee?”

“Would it be alright if I took a shower? I don’t want to impose. It just helps with the hangover.”

Seonghwa is in an oversized Star Wars long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. His socks have odd looking dice on them that you don’t recognize. His large glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as usual. It’s the first time you’ve seen him wearing something other than business attire.

“Sure, let me just get you the towels. Uhm, would you like some clothes? I can dig out some older clothes of mine, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few minutes later, Seonghwa is handing you towels, a large black shirt with a faded design on it (from a video game, he explained) and sweatpants. You rummage around your purse to dig up your emergency Stayed The Night makeup bag. This was the first time you were using it after just sleeping over at a guy’s house and not having sex with him. But you’re glad it’s in there since it has toothpaste, a small toothbrush and some other items you need.

It’s always a gamble going into any man’s bathroom, and it is with a tentative push of the door that you step inside. However, just like the living room, it is clean and organized. Seonghwa even has actual skincare products by the sink. The shower is clean with high end shampoo, conditioner and body wash (also all in separate bottles!).

Underneath the hot water, you wash off the night before. You wash off avoiding Sir Dipshit, you wash off the fact you feel disconnected from your coworkers, you even wash off your gossipy coworkers remark about how you’ve been different.

But you can’t wash off the expression your drunken brain still remembers when you told Seonghwa the rumor. And you can’t wash off the way you felt around him last night when you asked him to dance nor the thoughts you had about him. You haven’t been that turned on around someone in so long. It’s cuz you were drunk, you argue with yourself. Seonghwa just isn’t your type.

After the shower, you dry off, finish cleaning up and change into Seonghwa’s clothes. The shirt is soft, well worn, baggy on your frame and the sweatpants are a little long. But they smell nice and are comfortable. You stare at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers over the fabric. I need to make things right with him. He’s a nice person and he’s been kind to me and now he thinks I only started talking to him because of the rumor.

And to make matters worse, that’s the truth.

Seonghwa is sitting on the couch, two cups of coffee perched on the table. He has a book open in his lap, reading quietly. Tentatively, you sit down opposite him, reaching for the coffee while peering at the cover of the book. It’s some Star Wars book. It looks older than you expected, well worn, and there’s a man has blue skin with red eyes on the cover.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower…and your clothes. And uh…for getting me here safely. And for taking me out the back way so no one saw I was being a messy drunk.”

Seonghwa rests the book next to his coffee, picking up the cup and taking a small sip. The silence is starting to feel awkward now and you wish he would say something.

So, you decide just to leap into it. “Listen, about what I said last night. About the ah…. rumor.” Your cheeks feel warm from just mentioning it. You never thought you’d actually be discussing this with him.

Seonghwa’s hands wrap around the cup as he looks shyly down. His lashes are long, longer than when you spend too much on an overpriced mascara to try to get the same effect.

“Can you…explain how you heard something like this about me?” Seonghwa asks quietly, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

You push through how awkward this is going to be and tell him the entire story of how your coworker mentioned it over coffee. By the time you are done, Seonghwa has turned a deep crimson, his coffee long forgotten after being placed back on the table because he is so embarrassed. Silence hangs in between the two of you for a minute or so. You don’t press him to speak, figuring he deserves some time to sort out how he’s feeling about the entire thing.

“It’s true that I went to the conference and slept with that regional manager. I figured since she lived across the country, it wouldn’t really matter,” He squirms uncomfortably, “I didn’t think she would talk about it and I certainly didn’t think it would spread all over the office. I didn’t know why there was an uptick in people talking to me this week. I didn’t ever dream it could be tied to…that. When it came to us…I guess I thought…uhm maybe you and I were becoming friends.”

You feel a pang in your chest and move closer to Seonghwa, trying to salvage the conversation. “We are friends,” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re true. Maybe the two of you are very different but Seonghwa still makes you feel safe and seems to see you in a way that everyone else is missing.

But he looks doubtful. “But you only started talking to me because…” He glances at you only for a split second. “Were you trying to…I mean…you and I…” He trails off, wringing his hands together.

You stare at his hands, swallowing. No, you’re not my type. I was curious but there isn’t any attraction there, is what you want to say. The words would be so easy. A quick band-aid over a situation that has gotten out of hand.

“That explains last night. Before we left,” He mumbles bashfully, “I thought maybe I was reading too much into it but you wanted to dance and…” He can’t finish his sentence again but you don’t need him to; you still clearly can recall how it felt to be that close to him and all the lascivious thoughts that popped into your head. You also can’t deal with the fact Seonghwa was worried he was reading too much into it when you were obviously all over him.

You feel stuck. To tell him that you hadn’t thought about him in that way last night would be a lie. But to tell him would be admitting aloud to yourself that Seonghwa, the nerdiest guy you’ve ever met, is someone you’re attracted to. You’ve been protesting the entire time, to your coworkers, and to yourself that Seonghwa isn’t your type and you don’t see him that way. But…

You feel nervous which is strange because you can’t recall the last time you were nervous around someone you found attractive. But Seonghwa, who seems to be as fragile as fine china, is in your hands at this moment. One wrong move and you’re going to drop him and make things even worse.

“Well…uh…usually, you know, I don’t go for the…nerdy type.” Would he be insulted by that? “I was curious because I couldn’t picture such a thing. Like you…being like that. In bed. With the…you know.” You gesture vaguely, unable to mention his rumored big dick again now that you’re sober.

“Right, yeah, of course,” He says quickly, too quickly, “I get that. And I know what people are like when drunk. Not thinking clearly.” Seonghwa looks as if he wants to flee which only makes you talk faster.

“But you were so nice to me. With the coffee. I’ve been…struggling with work lately.” That puts it mildly. “And you were there when I needed someone. And I wasn’t…lying. Last night. When I said that I feel safe with you.”

He looks a little more comforted by this, enough that he is looking up at you through those long lashes.

“But I also…You know…uhm…” You trail off, unsure how to word the next part. Seonghwa looks at you curiously. God, it would be so easy to lie and let him believe I was just drunk last night and that was the end of it, you think.

In fact, any regular person would leap at the lie and use it as a cover. But Seonghwa is still wringing his fucking hands together and you keep watching his fingers and you can’t believe it but you think you’re getting wet again – and this time you can’t blame booze. His entire posture, a mixture of tense and awkward, is strangely endearing. You quickly wonder what he would sound like in bed again and then try to banish the thought.

You’ve been quiet for so long that Seonghwa gently goes, “You were saying?”

But you aren’t really sure what you’re saying. Naturally, that means you keep going. “I do…wonder. If…maybe you’d want to…as friends…with benefits. Because like I said you’re not my type but my body seems to be like…reacting to you…ever since I heard the rumor. And I want to know if the rumor has merit.”

Wow, amazing. Fantastic speech. Not only were most of your sentences unfinished but you basically asked Seonghwa to have sex with you just to see how your body responds like it’s a science experiment.

Seonghwa is turning red again. His voice is slightly hoarse when he replies with, “Are you – ah. Are you asking to have sex with me? As friends?”

“Y…yes.”

Seonghwa’s breathing quickens and he looks away for a moment. You immediately want to crawl in a hole and hide.

“I’m sorry,” You say hastily, “I don’t know what’s come over me. I tell you we’re friends and then immediately ask you for sex after offending you with some ridiculous rumor.” Your hands grip your knees, bracing yourself to stand up and to get out of here as quickly as possible. “Listen, I’m going to get my stuff and go. I’m just gonna Uber back to my place, don’t worry about it –”

Seonghwa’s hand suddenly rests gently on top of yours. The touch knocks the breath out of your lungs. You stare at the sight of his long fingers extending over yours, his hand warm against your skin.

“Okay,” is all he says quietly.

Hardly daring to look up from the sight of his hand, you lock eyes with him. He is still blushing but looks resolute.

“Uhm,” You exhale, “Sorry, I’ve never started a sexual encounter like this before.”

“Me either,” Seonghwa shifts nervously and then says, “How about I just kiss you and if you like it, we can keep going? If you don’t feel anything, then it’s just the rumor clogging your head.”

“S-sure.”

Seonghwa carefully raises his other hand up towards your cheek, brushing against your skin with the back of his fingers. You shiver at the small touch, staring at him as he shifts closer to you. Acutely aware of how utterly surreal this is, you can only look at him as he cups your cheek. He grazes your lips with his thumb and your lips reflexively part at the touch. Your entire body feels as if it is tingling.

You try to tamper down any expectations when Seonghwa leans forward to kiss you. You’re expecting the kiss to be awkward and messy in that unskilled way. You are waiting for him not to know what to do with his tongue and just roll it around in your mouth. Then, you’d tell him thanks but the rumor obviously had taken over your mind and it is better to remain friends without benefits.

But then Seonghwa’s lips do touch yours as you close your eyes. It is a jolt to all your senses, white noise in your head as he kisses you so gently at first that you could imagine the touch. Your breath catches, heart rate accelerating as the kiss continues. His hand resting on top of yours gives a small squeeze, his other hand trailing to the back of your neck.

You can feel yourself melting into the kiss, the tension seeping out of your body as Seonghwa’s tongue slips inside your mouth. There is a heat blossoming in your chest as your thighs clench. He trails small circles against your skin on your lower neck, making you shiver. Your tongue is against his now, your hand moving upwards to grip the front of his shirt, crumpling the Star Wars image up in your fist. He makes a small noise that only spurns you on more. You pull on the shirt so that he is closer, sliding into his lap, straddling him on the couch.

Something drives you forward with reckless abandon, throwing caution to the wind and replacing it with desire. Seonghwa seems to mirror your feelings, his hands moving to your lower back, wiggling underneath the shirt to touch your bare skin. He presses down slightly, pushing you against him.

You can feel the bulge in his sweatpants now and with a jolt, you think that maybe the rumor about the size is going to be true. Your hands are in his hair, his soft blonde locks curled around your fingers as the kissing continues.

Your hangover is now a distant thought; making out with Seonghwa seems to be a miracle cure for a headache. Instinctively, you grind your hips against his bulge and he inhales sharply. His hands move to your ass, gripping the tender flesh there in his hands in a silent urge for you to keep going. You rock your hips against him, your pussy soaking wet. So much for just a kiss, you think dryly, marveling at the way your body responds to Seonghwa.

His phone suddenly rings, jolting you a little by the noise. He glances over at it – it is on the kitchen counter – and gives a small shake of his head.

�� “Ignore it,” He mumbles and you don’t mind doing that at all, resuming the kiss easily.

The phone falls silent. Seonghwa’s breathing is heavy, mingling with your own, and kissing is becoming not enough. You want more and when he begins to kiss down your jawline and your neck, you reach behind you to take one of his hands and bring it forward, guiding him underneath the band of your sweatpants.

He doesn’t hesitate now that you’ve given silent permission. You’ve been thinking about his hands ever since the rumor made you turn attention towards him and now Seonghwa presses his palm against the front of your underwear as his lips find yours again.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. When the kiss breaks, you take in the sight of Seonghwa, breathless, his chest rising and falling quickly. His cheeks are tinted pink and his eyes are wide behind his large frames. You think about the times you’ve taken note of him in the past – a couple seconds of walking past him quickly in the hallway, not paying any attention because he came off as such a wallflower or zoning out when he talked in a meeting because you never could understand what he was saying and it made you feel stupid and insecure, and even the couple of times you giggled over someone making a joke at his expense. And now here you are, in his lap, with his hand against your cunt and every nerve in your body screaming for him. Jokes on me.

Seonghwa pushes your underwear to the side, his fingers probing your folds as he leans forward and kisses you again. The sensation of his fingers touching you is making you dizzy. From this angle, it’s too difficult for his fingers to enter you which is about the only thing in the entire world you want at this moment.

Muffled because of the kissing, you mumble, “Will you – your fingers –”

To your surprise, Seonghwa smiles for a second against your lips. You pull away, just enough to see his expression. “What?” You ask.

“Nothing, I just…I noticed you looking at my hands a lot the past few days.”

Now it is your turn to feel embarrassed. “Oh, I…” You don’t really know what to say. It’s difficult to think when all you want is him.

“Here, sit next to me,” He pats the space next to him and you slide off his lap.

Seonghwa then gets on the floor in front of you, reaching upwards and sliding your sweatpants off your hips, leaving you in just your underwear and his borrowed t-shirt. He brings two fingers to the front of your underwear, pressing down on the fabric. “Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ.” Your coworker’s words bounce around in your head as Seonghwa removes your underwear and pushes your legs open so that you’re spread out in front of him.

It’s a bit surreal to be in Seonghwa’s apartment on a Sunday morning, sitting on his couch half naked, with him on his knees in front of your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, pushing your legs apart as far as comfortable. You stare at the way his fingers dig into your skin, wanting nothing more than to have them buried in your cunt just to see what it feels like.

But he leans forward and very carefully, using just the tip of his tongue, he flicks it across your swollen clit. You shudder, gasping but Seonghwa keeps a firm grip on your thighs to keep you spread in front of him. He doesn’t stop, using the tip of his tongue to stimulate your clit. Your hands grip the cushions of the couch, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of Seonghwa’s tongue brushing against your nub. His eyes are closed and no matter how much your body shakes from the pleasure, his hold on your thighs doesn’t lessen, keeping you in place.

You are cursing loudly, taken aback by just how good he can make you feel with the tip of his tongue. His pace steadily increases against your clit. Your hips buck but he doesn’t stop, his tongue expertly dancing over your sensitive nub.

Distantly, you are aware his phone is ringing again. But he doesn’t stop and you aren’t about to bring things to a halt for a fucking phone call. You thought Seonghwa would be messily rolling his tongue around – or even worse, just focusing on your hole and wondering why you couldn’t finish. The rumor saying he could eat pussy seemed as ridiculous as all the other aspects of what your coworker told you.

Forcing your eyes open, you look down at Seonghwa working your clit. There is something sexy about how he looks, with his eyes closed, using just the tip to make you feel this good, and his hands holding you in place. Even his glasses, usually something you found so dorky before, look good on him now.

He still hasn’t put his fingers inside you but your climax is rapidly approaching. You want to try to tell him you’re close but speaking is impossible. All that leaves your mouth are garbled noises of pleasure and occasionally you whine out his name. Your knuckles are white from gripping the cushions and your orgasm suddenly begins, hips bucking but Seonghwa holds them down.

Your head rolls back against the couch as the pleasure overtakes you. Your entire body tingles, skin incredibly warm. Seonghwa slows down as you cum until your hips lower back down. Only then he pulls away. Breathless, you can’t even look down at him because your body feels heavy from how intense the orgasm was.

Seonghwa releases his hold on your thighs but quietly goes, “Leave your legs spread, I want to see your pussy.”

It’s the first time something vulgar has left his mouth this entire time and it turns you on. Having talked to Seonghwa only a couple of times very quickly prior to this week, you never thought you’d hear such a sentence from him especially directed at you.

Finally, he brings his fingers to your cunt, spreading your lips open slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

You think you reply but it comes out a bit garbled.

But Seonghwa takes it as an affirmative and goes, “Last night, when you asked me to dance…what were you thinking about?” To your amazement, he actually looks shy after asking even though he just made you cum thirty seconds ago.

This meant you had to form words now, an arduous task given the circumstances. “I was wondering if you were in shape because sometimes the way your work clothes looked on you…and I was thinking about if the rumors about you were true. And…” You swallow, “I was thinking about your fingers and how long they were.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Seonghwa slides a finger in your hole, making you gasp in both relief and surprise. He looks a bit satisfied and you realize he must have known you were thinking about his fingers and just wanted to hear you admit it.

“What do you think?” He murmurs, “Does it feel long?”

His finger is completely buried in your cunt and he wiggles it slightly, making you clamp down around it instinctively. Seonghwa’s eyes move upwards to look at you, taking in the sight of you whimpering and clearly wanting more.

He inserts another finger while going, “Does it feel how you thought it would?” Slowly, he moves his two fingers in your cunt, and you can hear how soaking wet your hole is.

You watch, entranced at the sight of Seonghwa’s long and slender fingers pumping in your cunt. Each time he pulls them out, you can see your juices smeared across his skin before he pushes them back inside. He wiggles them each time they are buried in your hole and it feels so good that you don’t think you can talk. You try to move your hips in time with his fingers but his other hand keeps your hips down against the couch.

The phone is ringing again. You’d wish it would shut up already. Seonghwa seems too dazed to even notice, staring at your cunt swallowing his fingers.

“Is that the sort of thing you were thinking about? How my long fingers would feel in your tight cunt?” He asks softly, “You’re really tight. I don’t know how I’m going to fit inside you.”

The confession catches your breath because he is teasing you now, skirting around the rumor about his big dick without showing you.

“You can barely take my fingers. You think you can take another one?”

“Yes,” You breathe out, “I can. I can take your cock too.”

“We’ll see about that, baby,” He murmurs and the affectionate use of ‘baby’ makes you shiver.

Another finger dips into your hole as Seonghwa finger fucks you. His pace has steadily increased but with three fingers, you can feel your hole jammed full of him. He’s right, you are tight and you don’t know how you’d take his apparent big cock but the universe knows you’d be trying.

Seonghwa leans forward and wraps his lips around your clit while finger banging your hole as much as your cunt allows. You groan, the pleasure spiking, your hand grabbing onto his blonde hair as he finally releases his hold on your hips. This allows you to grind your pussy against his fingers as he sucks hard on your clit. To your amazement, you know that you’re going to cum again already. He doesn’t let up on your clit or your hole, his fingers making obscene noises from how wet you are. When he wiggles them inside you, it’s enough to make your brain hazy with pleasure.

You curse as your second climax begins. You can feel yourself gushing around his fingers, your juices smearing all over his fingers down to his palm. You’re grinding against his face, probably making a mess on his glasses too for all you know but cannot stop yourself. You’re moaning and whimpering, your head pressing against the back of the couch as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

Collapsing against the couch when the orgasm begins to fade, you can hardly catch your breath. Your entire body tingles. You cannot recall the last time you had someone make you cum that close together. You didn’t even know it was possible.

Opening your eyes, you look downwards at Seonghwa. He has pulled his fingers out of your hole and put them in his mouth, tasting you. His glasses are slightly askew and messy in the most pornographic way. His tongue swirls around his fingers. The entire image is immediately burned into your brain.

The phone rings again. Annoyed, you glare at it on the counter. “Should you answer that?” Not that you don’t want to hop on his dick immediately but the mere fact they won’t stop calling makes you worry something bad has happened and you’re keeping Seonghwa from it for your own selfish reasons.

“I should although admittedly I don’t want to,” He replies, standing up.

The bulge in his pants is evident and large. You hope the phone call won’t take long so you can jump on him. It’s amazing how he’s made you cum twice already but you still want more.

He looks at his phone and frowns. “It’s work,” He directs this at you before answering, “Hello?” A long pause as someone rambles on the other end. Then, “No one else can help you with this?” More silence, more rambling from the other end. “No, I’m just…I’m in the middle of something, that’s all,” He mumbles, shooting you a glance, “Yeah, I get it. No, we don’t want that to happen. Yeah, give me an hour, alright?”

Your stomach falls as Seonghwa ends the call and looks chagrined. “I’m sorry. I gotta go into the office. The new guy fucked up the software update push and it’s gotta go out today before everyone else comes back tomorrow.”

You distantly remember a meeting two weeks ago about a software update but since it had more to do with Seonghwa’s side than yours, you spaced out. That had been happening a lot lately.

Still, you suddenly feel shy and embarrassed, quickly snatching up your underwear off the floor. “Right, yeah, I get it.”

“Let me drive you home on my way in,” He says hurriedly, scampering back over as you slip your underwear back on.

You really don’t want to Uber after being half fucked, in another man’s clothes, slightly hungover so you accept. Seonghwa looks relieved; he is jittery like he expects you to be mad over the fact he has to go to work. He sits down next to you, looks as if he is going to reach for your hand and then has second thoughts.

“I’m sorry again,” He says.

You want to laugh. Seonghwa, the least likely guy on the planet, just made you cum twice and he’s apologizing? You aren’t even sure for what. You reach up for his glasses, gently removing them from his face. He looks confused.

“You might wanna clean these before you go in,” You say quietly and he realizes the state they are.

He blushes, nodding. “Y-yeah, good idea. Thanks.” He takes the glasses back, scurrying off to get cleaned up for work.

You sit there, torn between confusion over where exactly this left you and Seonghwa, how a guy like him could make you feel so good, and what happens next.

Well, you think, at least I know one part of the rumor is definitely true. He really can eat pussy like a champ.

PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @xirenex - a couple of you couldn’t be tagged so i’ll message you separately, sorry.

#seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #ateez smut #ateez fics #wallflower #kpop fic #100 notes #500 notes #1000 notes

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 12 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, allusion to smut, contractions, water breaking, labor and delivery, and Eddie wasn't there, epidural, medical emergency, lots of fluff

WC: 4.3k

A/N: I could not have written this piece without @the-unforgivenn 💚 everything accurate in this fic is because of her, and everything inaccurate is because of me. I love you, Annie. Thank you for asking my random birth-related questions at all hours.

Divider credit to @saradika

November 4, 1999

At nine months pregnant, everything hurts.

Perhaps that’s why when you wake up for work with an extra pinch in your back, you cast off any worries. Or maybe it’s because you still have over a week until you’re due, and first babies tend to take their time arriving, so there’s no possible way that today is the day.

You shrug on a sweater and your most comfortable pair of maternity jeans, your body heavy with pregnancy and fatigue. Your movements are sluggish, even more so than usual, and Eddie notices as he stands out the counter, shoveling a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into his mouth.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asks, tongue darting out to swipe a drip of milk from his lower lip.

Nodding, you massage just above your tailbone in a meager attempt to ease the pain. “Mhm,” you lie, grabbing two granola bars from the pantry. You unwrap one and take a big bite, letting the chocolate chips melt in your mouth. “Just ready to have this baby.” Another lie, or possibly a half truth; while you’re eager to have your body to yourself again, the prospect of labor and delivery terrifies you.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, his palms gently rubbing your bump. “Eleven more days and then we’ll be a family of four.”

“Baby Brother is taking forever to get here,” Harris laments from his seat at the table, spearing a banana slice with his fork. He glances at your stomach with impatient eyes. “Can’t you do something to hurry him up?”

You cough as your husband’s cheeks flush pink; he rakes a ringed hand through his curls. No doubt he’s remembering last night when he’d innocently lifted your belly to relieve some of the pressure, only to find himself hard as a rock as his fingers lightly dug into your skin. I’ll go slow so I don’t send you into early labor, he’d remarked with a teasing wink.

“Gotta be patient,” Eddie says now, seemingly having recovered from the brief flashback. He slurps the remaining milk from the bowl and stifles a belch, reaching for his jacket and keys. “Have a great day at work,” he kisses you, smiling against your lips, “and school.” He ruffles Harris’s hair, and just like that, he’s out the door.

Harris finishes his breakfast, placing his empty plate in the sink and scampering to the door to put on his sneakers. You watch enviously as he ties them with ease; you’ve been relegated to slip-on shoes until your feet are no longer swollen.

“Come on, Mommy,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I don’t wanna miss the bus.”

You silently pray that the short walk to the bus stop will ease your muscle tension, taking careful steps as you trail behind the far-too-energetic-for-8 AM little boy.

Eleven more days. Only eleven more days, you tell yourself. The reminder has tears prickling along your lash line in a double-edged sword. You don’t think you can handle eleven more days of this discomfort, but will you truly be ready to have a newborn baby in less than two weeks? Once you give birth, you can no longer shield your baby from the world’s dangers and cruelties. Will your love be enough? Will you be enough? And how can you possibly figure it all out in just eleven days?

Your mantra of eleven more days turns out to be just six hours. Since Will became a teacher two years ago, the two of you have made it a habit to spend time together after the students’ dismissal. You’re preparing art materials for tomorrow’s class when you feel it—a trickle of liquid sliding down your leg.

Your eyes widen, heat crawling up your neck and into your face. I peed myself at work. It had happened once last month, but it was preceded by a sneeze, and you were already in the parking lot about to go home. When you’d told Eddie that evening, the two of you laughed so hard that you’d wet yourself again.

But this feels…different.

“Oh, no.” There’s another small stream, but it isn’t accompanied by any relief on your bladder. Your worried murmur gets Will’s attention, and he looks at you with concern. “I think my water broke, but I don’t know…it might just be pee…” Your voice trails off before you can speak in circles.

Will leaps to his feet. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” The pair of scissors he’s been using to cut out paper stars clatter to the table as he rushes to your side.

“Call Eddie,” you mumble, gripping your bump as a cramp—most likely a contraction, you realize—squeezes at your pelvis. “Tell him to—shit—to get my bag from the apartment and bring it to the hospital.” You bite your lip to stifle a groan. “I’ll call Wayne and ask him to get Harris from the bus.”

He nods, dialing from the classroom phone as you rattle off the record store’s number. You pull your own Nokia cell phone—a purchase Eddie had insisted upon after you got pregnant, wanting to make sure you and Baby Munson stayed safe.

“So, um,” Will hesitates after you’ve hung up with Wayne, ending the conversation with a promise to let him know as soon as the baby is born, “Eddie was in the middle of a guitar lesson, so I left a message with one of his employees—”

Please don’t say Ev, you wordlessly plead. Anyone but the stoner who can barely remember to show up to work on time.

“Ev, I think?”

Shit.

Will hooks his arm with yours, providing you with the stability to stand up. “Let’s get you to the hospital, all right? Maybe it’s a false alarm or something.”

You nod, but deep down, you know that this baby is on his way. Call it mother’s intuition, you muse wryly.

After a quick stop in Principal Sinclair’s office to explain the situation, Will helps you into his Chevy Impala, grimacing along with you when another contraction hits. “Should we be timing those?”

You grit your teeth. “Shit, y-yeah. I completely forgot.” All those birthing books you’d read cover to cover to prepare for this moment, and you hadn’t even remembered to time your own damn contractions. “We need to track how long they last and the amount of time between them.”

Will remains unfazed. “We’ll just start now,” he says simply, flicking his wrist to check his watch. “It’s 2:32. Let me know when you get another one.” He turns the key in the ignition, taking your hand before putting the gear shift into drive. “It’ll be okay. Eddie’s gonna get the message, and he’ll be here soon.”

It’s as though he can read your mind, and you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s right; if you are in labor, it’s still early enough that Eddie won’t miss the birth.

You hope.

Your contractions are one minute long and twelve minutes apart by the time you reach Hawkins General Hospital, growing slightly stronger with each wave. Will relays the information to the receptionist, his voice wavering with nerves and excitement despite his best efforts to remain calm.

Before you know it, you’re being wheeled into a room, a laminated bracelet with your personal details dangling from your wrist. The clock on the wall indicates that it’s just past 3 PM, which means that Eddie should be here in a few minutes.

As if on cue, the cell phone in your purse chirps its familiar ringtone. Harris had insisted that you change it from the standard option, choosing one that sounds like birds chirping. It normally reminds you of springtime mornings; right now, you’re ready to throw it through the window.

Will passes it to you, and you punch the answer button with an impatient, “hello?”

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Eddie’s carefree demeanor wafts through the speaker, “just wanted to check in and see if you’re feeling any better. Did you want me to pick up something from the store on my way—?”

Dammit, Ev. “Eddie, my water broke at work. Will called earlier and left a message,” you manage, maneuvering around the heart rate monitor to brace for another contraction. “I’m—ughhh, shit—I’m at the hospital.”

“What?!” You can hear his sudden shift to panic; the phone drops from his grasp and clatters on the counter before he retrieves it, uttering a slew of swear words. “Okay, I’ll be right there. Your bag’s at home, right? Oh, and Harris! Shit, let me—”

“Wayne’s on it,” you tell him, hopefully putting an end to his mile-a-minute thoughts. “I just need my bag and my husband.”

There’s a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. “I can provide both.” His humor peeks through his fear in subtle reassurance. “Be there ay-sap. I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you, too.” A soft click tells you that he’s on his way, probably simultaneously scrambling for his keys and shouting at his employee.

Nearly an hour later, there’s still no sign of Eddie. Will blots the perspiration on your forehead with a cloth; out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s watching the clock as well. “He’ll be here,” he says as though reading your mind. Or maybe he’s scared that he’ll have to stand in for Eddie throughout the entire process. “In the meantime, I’ll flag down a nurse so we can get you that epidural.” His words are even, but his smile is uneasy, both of you well-aware that he is out of his element. Though he’ll deny it vehemently, you know you owe him. Big-time.

“Why don’t you grab yourself some food from the cafeteria?” You’d heard his stomach growling just before, and he can certainly use a break.

Will nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do you want anything?” he asks out of habit, cheeks tinged pink as you shake your dismal cup of ice chips. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He ducks out of the room as a nurse walks in.

“Are we considering an epidural, Mrs. Munson?” she asks. Her bright smile is one you’ll be unable to return until after the pain medication takes effect.

“Y-Yeah, please.” You shift uncomfortably while she examines you and announces that your cervix is four centimeters dilated. Part of you is relieved that labor is progressing at a pace where Eddie should arrive in time for the delivery; another part just wants this baby out of you, now.

The nurse makes a note on your chart. “I’ll let the anesthesiologist know.” Another unreciprocated grin and she’s gone, off to poke and prod the next patient.

Alone for a moment, you relish the quiet, save for the soft beeps of the machines you’re connected to. With great care, you caress the swell of your stomach where your son has developed from a microscopic speck to a full-term baby.

“Your daddy will get here soon,” you murmur to your sensor-covered belly, “hopefully before you do.” You laugh for a second until another contraction squeezes you from the inside, shifting your expression from amused to pained.

The anesthesiologist and Will arrive at the same time, the former pausing to let your impromptu birth partner enter first. He walks with more enthusiasm now that he’s eaten, though his meal threatens to reappear when he sees the doctor pull out the comically oversized needle.

“Just lean forward,” she says to you, “you’ll feel some pressure, but once the medication kicks in, it’ll be worth it.” She offers you a kind smile before turning to Will and explaining, “you may need to help her.”

“Mhm. Sure.” Will mumbles, avoiding looking at the needle. You clasp your hand in his so you can sit up. The cool air raises goosebumps on the sliver of flesh no longer covered by the gown, but the chill is quickly replaced by a stinging sensation that has you gripping Will’s palm. You don’t realize the strength of your grasp until you hear him mutter, “ow,” but you don’t let go until the burning ceases.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, watching him shake out his hand. “About all of this. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your afternoon.”

He shakes his head and guides you back against the pillow. “Maybe not, but I’m glad I can be here for you.” Now that the threat of broken fingers has passed, he truly means it.

5:46 PM.

You’ve been in the hospital for nearly three hours, and there’s still no sign of Eddie. Will’s casually flipping through a copy of People magazine that’s so outdated, Nick Nolte was just crowned the Sexiest Man Alive. He’s visibly more relaxed now that the medication has eased your pain, chattering teeth a welcome replacement for your anguished moans.

Your concern that Eddie will miss the baby’s birth has hardened into pure fear that something has happened to him. What if he lost focus while driving and got into an accident? The weather was overcast when you’d arrived at Hawkins General; it could have started raining since then and created slippery roads, perfect for hydroplaning. The thought of him hurt while you’re unable to help him has your insides churning, and for the first time, you’re grateful for an empty stomach.

Maybe you should call Wayne and find out if he had heard from his nephew. But if he hadn’t, then both of you would be stuck worrying and answerless; even worse, if he had and didn’t want to relay bad news while you’re in such a vulnerable state–

“I’m here!”

Relief surges through your veins, Eddie’s panting voice music to your ears. You roll from your side onto your back to see your husband standing by your bedside. Sweat drips down his temples and pools under his arms with the pungency of someone who’d just completed a marathon. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, a jacket haphazardly tossed over his shoulder and your bag clutched in his hand.

He swoops down and places his lips on yours in a series of frantic kisses, his free palm cupping your cheek as though ensuring that the moment is real. He only pulls back when you do, getting a glimpse of your face.

“Where were you?” Not an accusation, but a question threaded with genuine care.

His nose nudges yours as he sneaks in another peck. “Did you know that Chief Hopper retired?” Your brows furrow in confusion at his non-answer to your question. “Well, he did, and the sheriff’s department decided to throw him a parade. Today. Closed off a bunch of the side streets and backed up traffic on the main ones.” He coughs out a terse laugh. “Glad I quit smoking, or my lungs would’ve given up before I hit a half-mile.”

You mull over his response for a moment before it finally clicks. “Wait…did you run here?”

He tugs at his shirt fabric in an attempt to create a breeze that will cool him down. “It was more like a walk-run combo, but…yeah.” He shrugs, no big deal. “Parked my car in a random lot and just…booked it.” His shoulder gently sag as the adrenaline from his adventure wears away. “I gotta sit.”

It’s then that he notices Will, rising from the chair and placing the gossip rag on the table beside him. “Byers, holy shit,” Eddie looks at him incredulously, “have you been here with her the whole time?”

“He has,” you answer for him, managing a grateful smile in your friend’s direction. “And I can’t thank him enough.” Will returns the gesture and pulls Eddie in for a hug, wishing you both luck before slipping out the door.

Eddie brings his full attention back to you, lacing his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes the side of your hand, bringing small but strong comfort with each gentle touch. “Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry–”

“Eds,” you interrupt before he can continue his apology, “you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” Soft, distracted, overthinking. You can practically see the gears in head spinning, His second child and the second time he’d nearly missed the birth. He clears his throat and shakes away the thought with a toss of his hair, swiping his tongue over his lower lip. “How are you feeling?” He takes in the sight of you, his wife, the most beautiful being his cynical eyes have ever seen. “You look pretty damn good for someone about to have a baby.”

You laugh. “That epidural is a miracle from above.” You’ll gladly take the chattering teeth and the itchiness over the sensation of your pelvis imploding. Eddie doesn’t share in your amusement, still focused on his own shortcomings. “Hey,” you say quietly, pulling him out of his mind with just one word. “Don’t think about the missed message or the traffic. We’re having our baby today.” You bring his hand to the apex of your stomach in the final few hours that it houses the life you two created together.

“I love you.”

His eyes shine with emotion. He’s here, not only in this moment, but throughout the entire pregnancy. He didn’t bury himself in music or booze or other arbitrary distractions. He’d read What to Expect When You’re Expecting cover to cover, had gone to all of the doctor’s appointments, made sure to keep the kitchen stocked with your cravings and free of your aversions. He’d picked up the household chores (and delegated some to Harris) to ease your workload and wiped your tears when you’d cried while watching two squirrels play in a tree.

You never asked him to do any of it; you never needed to.

“I love you, too.”

It all happened so quickly.

One minute, Eddie’s watching the monitor spike with a contraction, utterly bewildered by the power of pain medication.

“You really can’t feel that?”

“Just some pressure, but nothing like earlier. I told you; it’s a godsend.”

After hours of strategic breathing, a plethora of ice chips, and a steady outpouring of love between you two, you’re about to tell him that you feel the urge to push.

And then a nurse rushes in.

“Mr. and Mrs. Munson,” he begins, urgency evident even through his calm exterior, “your baby is experiencing late heart rate deceleration. We need to begin delivery immediately.” He glances at Eddie, then at you. “I’m going to check your dilation to see if we’ll try a vaginal delivery or prepare for a cesarean birth.”

The blood drains from Eddie’s face as he processes the information, the lighthearted energy completely zapped from the room. “Is…is she…are they…”

The nurse finishes the examination, removing his rubber glove. “Ten centimeters,” he announces. “I’ll page the doctor.”

It’s a whirlwind, with almost no time for panic to set in. The doctor and the other nurses arrive immediately, and when Eddie takes your hand, you can feel him trembling.

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be strong for you. Your face says it all: you’re terrified, and you need him to be your rock.

“You’ve got this, Sweetheart,” he whispers fiercely, pushing past the lump in his throat. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know, and I’m so lucky that you’re having my baby.” He kisses your forehead; out of the corner of his eye, he sees the medical staff preparing for delivery. His heart skips a beat, and the realization hits that he’s about to be a father of two.

You’re exhausted, a salty mixture of sweat and tears decorating your face. Gritting your teeth, you push while Eddie coaches you, reminding you to breathe and allowing you to swear at him without even batting an eyelash. It’s mostly a blur, with all of your energy concentrated on getting this baby out, but you vaguely recall telling him that he’s not allowed to even think about touching you again.

“Almost there,” he cheers, flashing an awestruck smile so wide that his cheeks ache. “C’mon, you can do it! Oh, my god, you’re a goddamn superhero.”

Three giant pushes later, you hear the telltale newborn wail as a nurse coos, “Happy birthday, little man! Here’s your mama!” She gently places your tiny baby on your chest, quickly wiping off the vernix covering his body.

“He’s here!” you manage through simultaneous laughter and cries. You carefully hold him against you, kissing the wisps of curls on his scalp. “Hi, baby boy!” Turning to Eddie, you blink away the mist coating your eyes. “We have another son,” you choke out.

He just nods, relishing in the wonder of becoming a father again. His pointer finger grazes the baby’s little half-closed fist, only looking away when the nurse asks him if he’d like to cut the umbilical cord. “Y-Yeah. Please,” he awkwardly adds, doing exactly as he’s instructed.

As the baby is lifted from your torso to be assessed and measured, Eddie kisses you with a passion you’ve never felt before, even from him. You can see that he’s crying, too, and he wipes his cheeks haphazardly.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, punctuating the statement with another kiss. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids.” His nose rubs yours tenderly.

You smile at him. “Do you want to call Wayne? I won’t be up for visitors until the morning,” you add, “but I just want to let him know that the baby’s here, happy and healthy.”

“In a bit,” he murmurs, watching the nurse carefully swaddle his newborn son in a hospital blanket. “I just wanna hold him first.”

Eddie takes your baby from the nurse, shifting to support his head. “Hey, buddy. I’m your dad.” His body slowly sways as he rocks back and forth. “You gave us quite the scare just now. I see you’re following in your big brother’s mischievous footsteps.” He swears his heart melts when the infant opens his mouth to yawn. “Yeah, you’ve had a busy day. Same here. But it was worth it, huh?”

He wears fatherhood so naturally, so perfectly. You wish you could capture this feeling in a jar and save it forever. For now, you settle for watching him fawn over his newest son, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Eddie murmuring, “and let me tell you: you have the best mommy a kid could ever ask for.”

Morning arrives after a restless sleep. You know the nurses are just following protocol when they examine you every hour, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it.

But the next knock on the door is one that you welcome willingly. Harris and Wayne stand there, waiting for permission to enter. You smile when you notice Harris shuffling his feet and shaking his hands in an attempt to expel some excess energy.

“Come on in,” Eddie whispers, beaming, “there’s someone very special we’d like to introduce you to.”

Harris rushes to your bedside, peering at the bundle in your arms. “My baby brother!” he squeals, jumping up and down.

Eddie puts a finger to his lips. “He’s sleeping, so we have to be quiet, okay?” He ruffles Harris’s hair as the boy nods. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah,” Harris lowers his voice, sitting down on the bed. You scoot over, careful not to move too quickly, and he melds into your side. He’s always been small to you, but compared to his baby brother, he seems so grown up.

“Okay, hold out your arms like this,” Eddie instructs, demonstrating the correct position, “and you’re gonna make sure to keep his head nice and safe, because he can’t hold it up on his own yet.”

Harris sports a look of concentration as you and Eddie work in tandem to place the baby in his arms. “He’s got the teeniest nose I’ve ever seen.”

Wayne laughs at this, watching his older grandson snuggle his youngest. “Does this little fella have a name yet?”

“Oh, right.” Eddie chuckles. “Gentlemen, this is Hendrix William Munson. ‘Hendrix’ after one of the most talented guitarists to grace this planet, and ‘William’ after an amazing friend and substitute birth partner.”

“Hendrix,” Harris repeats incredulously, never taking his eyes off of his brother. “I’m Harris. I talked to you when you were in Mommy’s tummy, remember?” Hendrix lets out a long exhale, like he’s acknowledging the question. “I know you’re still too little right now, but when you get big, we’re gonna play together all the time. Except when I’m at school.” He looks over at you expectantly. “Can I bring him to school with me? Like for show and tell?”

“Maybe when he’s older,” you say, lacking the bandwidth to point out the logistics of his request.

Harris wrinkles his nose, but his expression quickly softens. “Yeah, you’re right. He can’t even do any tricks yet.”

It’s quiet for a moment, everyone focused on the two Munson boys. Surprisingly, Wayne is the one who breaks the silence.

“You two have one beautiful family,” he muses, an arthritic finger grazing Hendrix’s blanket. “Y’should be proud of yourselves.”

Eddie gives his uncle’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Couldn’t have done it without ya, Old Man.”

Wayne knows this, accepting the compliment with a bashful grin but saying nothing further.

Peacefulness surrounds the five of you, soft conversation seamlessly weaving its way into the calm. You can’t kid yourself; most days will be pure chaos, balancing spit-up and school plays, field trips and feeding schedules. And once Hendrix starts walking—and running—you’ll need all cylinders firing.

But today, right now, you soak in the serenity. Just you and your boys. Your family.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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kitashousewife · 8 months

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“m’gettin sick,” osamu sniffles from his cocoon on the couch. ever since he got home he’s been quiet and sleepy, cuddling up with a blanket despite being hot to the touch.

one thing you’ve learned about osamu, is that he is never sick. ma always joked about how despite every illness that passed through the twins’ schools, teams, or even work; osamu made it out perfectly healthy. you’ve found this to be true. even when you’ve been at your worst, osamu’s immune system has never faltered.

“i can’t be sick,” osamu’s mumbled voice is stuffier than normal, and his nose is a rosy pink. “i got work in the mornin’.”

“not like this, you don’t,” you pour some water from the kettle into his cup and dip the tea bag inside. he waves you off.

“what? just close shop for a day? i can’t do that,” he snatches a few kleenex from the box on the counter, turning around when you raise an eyebrow at him.

“you can actually, and you should.” you slide the tea over to him before heading towards your shared bathroom. “just post something tonight to give everyone a heads up.”

osamu shuffles behind you, tea in one large palm with tufts of kleenex in the other. he huffs when he feels hot once again, flinging off his sweat shirt as quick as he can.

“but kita-“

“kita can deliver to our house, baby. we can bring the rice over a different day.”

you fold your arms and stand by the bath as it fills. osamu copies you, leaning against the doorframe with a pout.

despite being sick as a dog, he won’t go down without a fight. out of principle, of course.

“what about the special i was gonna run?”

“you can do it next week,” you test the water with your palm before adding some epsom salt in.

“what will the regulars do when they head to the store?” osamu puts his palms up dramatically and snorts when you roll your eyes.

“im heading into town tomorrow, i can put a sign in the door. trust me ‘samu, i think they will appreciate you being closed. who wants to eat onigiri from someone with a runny nose?”

he doesn’t say anything. for a minute, you think he’s finally rested his case. after he slips in the bath and lets out a comfortable sigh, he decides to put one last ditch effort in.

“produce gets delivered tomorrow! i have to be there for that!” he’s comically large in the small tub the two of you share, knees folded up as he tries to sink in. you shake your head and he groans.

“fine, fine. okay. i’ll close tomorrow. ya happy?”

“thrilled,” you place a towel next to the tub and sit down. “you need to rest, samu. the shop will be there when you’re better, i promise.”

he pouts again, but this time it’s genuine.

“but i’m never sick,” he splashes water on accident when he leans his head back against the wall. “i take good care of myself! i take my vitamins, drink lots of water, get good sleep,”

your lips tug into a smile.

“and that will help you beat whatever you have even faster. but for now, let’s take it slow okay? get plenty of sleep, heal your body, and stay home.”

osamu nods, and let’s his eyes close. he soaks for a few minutes, relishing in the relief his achey joints feel for the first time all day. while he gets ready for bed, he can’t help but feel his heart swell as he watches you grab extra blankets for his side, knowing he will probably be chilly tonight.

“i’m probably gonna sore with all this shit in my nose,” he sinks under the covers, propping his head up on the extra pillows you set up for him.

“you snore anyway,”

“do not! ya liar,” he smacks your bum when you snuggle up next to him. “don’t touch me, i’ll get ya sick. i’m real contagious,”

you place a big kiss on his forehead before getting back to your original spot.

“i’ll take my chances,” you listed to osamu’s steady heart while he falls asleep. osamu is always taking care of you, grabbing your favorite things from the shop because he’s thinking of you. carrying you when your feet hurt from the heels he told you not to wear, bringing you glasses of water because he knows you aren’t drinking enough, and never asks for anything in return.

“i love ya,” osamu whispers, half asleep and hums when you squeeze him closer.

“i love you too, samu. sleep well.”

#osamu x reader #osamu x reader fluff #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #osamu

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roosterforme · 5 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes there's some good news and some bad news. The good news is he's deeply in love with his wife who likes to be adventurous in the bedroom. And the bad news from the mechanic? He'd actually rather not mention that to you.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, anal play, anal sex, fluff, mentions of mission details

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

"Bradley! What did you do?!"

Your shitty little car's center console was loose, propped up by Bradley's booted foot like it was on a hinge. If he moved his foot up, the whole thing went with it. "I didn't do anything," he replied, removing his foot and letting the large piece of your car interior settle back down like he was completely innocent here.

You reached up from his lap and moved the console with your hands, and you gasped at the result. "You destroyed it!" Then you lifted it up higher and turned back to him with flashing eyes. "I can see the ground through the gigantic hole in my car!"

He winced. If you were upset when your car ended up in the shop last year while he was using it, you'd almost certainly be even more pissed off because of this. "I'll take it to my mechanic on Monday. He fixed it for you last time."

You nodded with some uncertainty, but you wrapped him up in your arms and kissed him. "Yeah... he fixed it last time. I'm just happy you're home. I made Marry Me Rooster and birthday cake for you." Bradley was practically panting at the feel of your fingers pushing back through his hair again. "And we can relax all day tomorrow."

For the first time in a week, he felt calm and sated. The adrenaline rush had finally worn off a bit, and right now he was exhausted. It was nearly midnight. His birthday was almost over. But if you wanted him to eat dinner and have cake with you at one in the morning, he would.

"Let's go home," he whispered. With one more kiss, you opened the back door and climbed off of his lap. When Bradley went to follow suit, he hit his head on the door frame and nearly landed on his face. "Fuck," he grunted, rubbing the top of his head. Great. Your car was poised and ready for revenge. He was going to offer to drive just in case there was something truly wrong with the thing, but he was a little afraid. He asked anyway. "You want me to drive?"

You just gave him a look. "I think you've done enough, Roo. And even though I love you, my car does not."

"That's fair." He kissed your forehead and yawned as he walked around to the passenger side. The engine started up for you without any issue, but it took you and him both pulling on the shifter to get it into reverse. And then your car made a horrible loud noise as you backed out of the parking spot.

Bradley had a very bad feeling about this.

-------------------------

It took you twice as long to get home as it should have. Your car sounded like it was begging for mercy every time you so much as tapped the gas pedal. It was a strage, loud whirring sound, and Bradley was looking at you with big, innocent baby cow eyes.

There was a gap between the center console and the floor of your car, and you wondered how on earth he managed to push on it hard enough to rip it clean off like that. It was almost comical. You husband was huge, and he'd apparently put all of his size into fucking you just right.

You laughed as you pulled into the driveway next to the Bronco. "So you're not too mad?" he asked quietly as he helped you push the shifter again.

"I'm not mad," you promised. "Your mechanic can fix it next week. We'll just need to share the one car until then."

Bradley leaned in to kiss you and said, "I will take care of it, Sweetheart."

Once you made it to the front door, his lips were all over your neck as you tried to unlock it. He was being sweet and soft now even though you were sure he could tell you were flustered with need again. Even the rough fabric of his duffel rubbing against your leg was almost too much. "I love you," he murmured against your earlobe as you finally pushed the door open. But you could tell he was tired, and you weren't the only one who was excited to see him.

Tramp came bounding out onto the porch, whimpering and whining as Bradley knelt and got his face licked. "Yeah, I missed you, too," he told the dog as he carried him inside. "Did you have fun with mommy?" Tramp kept running to his leash and begging, but Bradley said, "I'm not taking you for a walk in the middle of the night. We can go tomorrow."

"Are you hungry?" you asked, feeling a little silly for getting yourself so excited to feed your husband when it was so late. But you made a huge batch of Marry Me Rooster, and of course he insisted he wanted his birthday meal.

"I'm always hungry for this and for you," he said, pulling you onto his lap at the dining room table. He took a bite of chicken and grunted softly, and you leaned in to kiss along his cheekbone as he chewed. He had dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he was going to need to rest tomorrow.

"You want to tell me about your super secret special mission?" you asked him while he ate. He took a few more bites and set his fork down with a sigh before he answered.

His voice was careful as he said, "I really can't say much, even to you."

Your eyebrows shot up and your hands shook a little as you played with his hair. "Was it successful?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, which took the chill out of your body. "We had to... aid in hostage retrieval."

"Oh my god," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his chest and snuggling against him. You knew better than to ask for any more details than that. If the stakes were that high, no wonder he came back a bit of a needy mess. You could just imagine him on the aircraft carrier after completing his flight, adrenaline thrumming through his body. You rubbed your hand along his side as he finished the rest of the food on his plate.

"Thanks for my birthday dinner."

You smiled at him. "I'm just happy you're home. Do you want to save the cake and your present for tomorrow?"

"Please." His voice was soft, and his eyes closed against the feel of your fingers. You led him to the bedroom, taking the time to dig his toothbrush out of his duffle so he could get ready for bed. His new notebook was in there as well, and you flipped through it to see that he'd filled about a third of it up with his writing. But you could save that for later.

You pulled your dress over your head and tossed it in the hamper as Bradley walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom. "Ready for bed?" you asked, standing there completely naked. He just examined every inch of you, his eyes taking you in. It never really occurred to you to be self conscious around him, and when he brought his hand up to rub his cock through his boxer briefs, your lips parted on a soft sound.

He slowly raised his left hand which was hanging at his side, and as soon as he pointed at the bed, you were in it. Bradley stepped out of his underwear and left them in the middle of the floor, his hand wrapped around his cock as he climbed right on top of you. "Yeah?" he rasped with a grin. You supposed even through his exhaustion, he still had a little left in the tank for you, and you couldn't help but smile up at him.

"Yes." You spread your legs wide, and he buried himself inside you, uncaring that he'd filled you up barely two hours ago and left you a mess. He was doing it again, and he was doing it oh so well.

"Missed you," he whispered, the snap of his hips making you moan. "Missed our bed and your body and your pretty face." You watched as he took his silicone ring off and tossed it aside while he fucked you. Then his lips dipped down to your breasts before they found his wedding band where it rested against the front of your neck on your chain.

He fucked you until he came, kissing and licking the ring, bucking his cum deeper inside you with his eyes closed. You rolled him onto his back and sat up with him still buried deep. He was all soft smiles and comically boneless limbs beneath you as he stroked your thighs. "Can I have my ring?"

You reached for the clasp of your chain and slid it past your pretty charms. Then you secured your necklace once more before reaching for his left hand. You slipped it on his finger and kissed him there as he caressed your cheek. But his eyes were already closed, and he was sound asleep by the time you went to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

-------------------------------

When Bradley opened his eyes, his stomach was growling so loudly, he thought that might have been what woke him up. He was so damn comfortable, finally back in his own bedroom. "Baby Girl?" he rasped, wanting to just go back to sleep, but needing you with him.

Then he noticed the absolutely delicious smell coming from the kitchen and groaned. His stomach was growling so much, it hurt as he climbed out of bed and stretched. He found you a moment later cooking pancakes and bacon while sipping some coffee in his old UVA shirt. Tramp was on the floor begging his little heart out. When you saw Bradley you smiled, and he wrapped himself around you from behind, enveloping you in his arms. He could tell you were still fresh from your shower, and Bradley couldn't get enough.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered as he kissed along your neck.

"Starving," he replied, stomach growling loudly. "And I missed you in bed."

You rubbed yourself back gently against his naked body as you said, "You can rest and eat all day today. We've got nothing planned. I thought I'd feed you breakfast and let you take a long shower and then a nap."

He sighed next to your ear, feeling completely relaxed. This was all he really needed right now. You and he had worked on every little detail of your marriage until you were on the same page about what was important. The successful completion of Operation Loophole had him feeling pretty good about going back to base tomorrow. But today, the only thing he wanted was you.

You sat perched on his thigh as you finished your coffee while he ate. "What did I miss here while I was gone?"

"Just Jake almost fucking things up completely," you replied, biting into a piece of toast. "Oh, and I'm trying to get Bob to move in with Maria."

"The fuck?" he asked with a laugh. "As in, Bob would move into your old bedroom?"

"Yep."

"Sweetheart. Your old bedroom? We did some fucking nasty stuff in there together."

You erupted into laughter. "He doesn't need to know that."

Bradley looked at you like you had two heads. "I'm sure he already does."

"Poor Bob." You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Do you want some birthday cake for dessert?"

"I get dessert after breakfast?" he asked, somehow perking up even more over this perfect homecoming.

"You get whatever you want for your thirty seventh birthday," you replied as you stood and headed for the kitchen, letting Bradley see a peek of your gorgeous ass beneath his shirt. And in that instant, it was the only thing he wanted. He groaned and let his head tip back.

"Fuck." His heart was beating a little faster as he thought about tasting you there, touching you and fucking you there. You'd let him put his mouth anywhere he wanted last year on his birthday, and during your honeymoon, he'd enjoyed that particular part of your body again. But his cock was twitching, and now he was kind of mad you'd just proverbially offered up anything his horny heart desired. Because he was going to have to ask you for it.

There was no way you didn't notice he was half hard when you walked back in holding a confetti cake with your other hand behind your back. "Oh. My favorite. Thanks." His voice was bland as you set it down in front of him before pulling a lemon cake from behind your back.

"I was just messing with you with the confetti cake," you said with a laugh, bouncing back into the kitchen again. This time Bradley landed a little smack on your ass that left you giggling and looking at him over your shoulder in surprise. "I said the confetti cake was a joke, Roo," you told him with a wink.

This time when you came back, you had one single birthday candle and a lighter along with two forks. As you stuck the candle in the lemon cake and lit it, he asked, "Are you going to sing to me?"

"Of course," you whispered, kissing his cheek before settling on his thigh, your hip grazing his cock. Then you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck, licking and kissing along his scars as you sang to him like you were Marilyn Monroe and he was JFK. You were giggling and enjoying yourself, and it shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but Bradley hoisted you up to straddle both of his legs as you finished singing.

You gave him a little squeak as you settled against his cock, and he got his mouth on yours right away. He ran his hand up under your shirt to where your Rooster tattoo was and caressed you there, but he was cupping your ass with his other hand. "Roo," you moaned into his mouth as he teased both of your holes. "You're still all keyed up, Daddy?"

"A little," he told you, surprised to find that he was again. He blew out his birthday candle which had burned almost all the way down, while he kept his fingers on you.

"You want your cake or your present?" you asked softly.

"Aren't you my present?"

You smirked. "I got you something else, too."

"I want it."

When you climbed off his lap, Bradley reached for you, but you were already walking toward the bedroom. "Take a shower, Roo. I'll get it ready for you."

So Bradley stood under the stream of water, first cold and then hot. He was afraid to touch himself too much, because he really needed you. And his curiosity was piqued. What did you get for him? And why did you need to get it ready?

Oh. He had asked you for another calendar. Another sexy pinup calendar featuring you, you and you. "Shit," he grunted, running his hands through his hair to make sure all the conditioner was out before turning off the water. He barely dried himself off before charging back into the bedroom. He was about to call for you when you popped up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.

"Close them," you commanded. "And no peeking."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, going slightly crazy at your touch. You let go of his face, and he kept his eyes closed as you guided him by his shoulders until he was pretty sure he was standing in the bedroom doorway looking out into the hallway. Then you placed something in his hands.

He heard you cackle as you let go of him and said, "Okay, you can open your eyes and unwrap your gift, but don't turn around.

Bradley had the pretty red and yellow wrapping paper off in a flash, and it fell near his feet as he moaned. He read the cover out loud. "The Bronco and Baby Girl." Oh fuck. He'd never make it through this thing.

"Okay, now open it to January," you called out from behind him. He did, and it was a photo of you laying on the hood of the Bronco in the red bikini from the honeymoon. "Do you like it?"

"I fucking love it," he promised, his eyes roaming the high quality photograph. You looked like a real model, there was no doubt about that. "It's stunning."

You laughed and said, "Now look at February." He flipped the page and moaned at the sight of you sitting in the driver's seat wearing your skimpy red lingerie. "Now tell me which month you like better."

He flipped back and forth between the two before ultimately saying, "February. And it's a fucking shame it doesn't have thirty one days, honestly."

Your laughter filled the room and made him smile as he looked at March. You were wearing his aviators and little else. "You still like February?"

"Shit. I might like March the best now."

"How about April?" you asked, and Bradley was having a lot of fun with this game.

"Oh, that's nice," he remarked at the photo of you bent over his tailgate. He was currently having an existential crisis over your ass, and this wasn't helping.

"Why don't you keep going until you get to your favorite one, and then you can turn around."

"Alright," Bradley said, clearing his throat as he turned to May, which was one of you wearing the little dress you had on when you picked him up last night. You were laying on the backseat, and your tits looked like they were going to come free from the fabric.

But when he turned to June, you were topless. You were sitting in the back on the tailgate with your hands tucked behind your head wearing nothing but the shortest denim cutoffs he'd ever seen. You were facing the side with your upper body turned toward the camera. Your back was arched, your tits were jutting out, and your nipples were hard. The photo also somehow captured the perfect shape of your ass, and it was quite possibly the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

"June," he announced. "It's June, Baby Girl. It's my favorite one." And when he turned around, you were on the bed posed exactly like you were in the calendar, but you were smirking. Because you knew him. You knew he'd stop on June. You knew he'd fucking short circuit over that particular one. And now it was right in front of him in real life.

He tossed his calendar carefully onto the dresser as he inched forward, looking at you in those denim shorts at every angle as you bit your lip. "I knew you'd pick June," you whispered, and he leaned in to kiss your shoulder. Then he ran his palm down along your spine until his hand was on your ass.

"You know me so well," he rasped, climbing onto the bed with you. "Thanks for my calendar." He licked your right nipple before pulling your left one between his lips and sucking gently. You whined his name, and your hands were immediately in his hair.

"You're welcome," you gasped your hips rolling as he cupped your pussy gently through your shorts. He worked the button open and unzipped them as he kissed his way up to your neck, and you asked him, "Any special requests, birthday boy?"

But you knew. Somehow you fucking knew. You got on your hands and knees facing the headboard and wiggled your ass at him until he pulled your shorts down and helped you out of them. And then that was it. You were bare for him. He ran his hands up your soft thighs and up along your butt. He kissed you all over before he got on his knees and leaned his body over yours until his lips were right next to your ear.

"I do have a request."

He felt you shiver as he bucked involuntarily against your core. "Tell me."

You turned your head to look at him. His voice was a harsh whisper. "I want your ass, Baby Girl."

You moaned and rolled your hips back against him, nearly sending him through the roof. "What do you want to do?"

He kissed your cheek and tried to take a deep breath. "I want to do anything that you want to do. And if you don't want to do anything, then that's fine, too." He was panting as he kissed along your shoulder and your back, unable to stop himself from pressing against you over and over.

"Do you want to fuck me in the ass, Roo?" you asked so sweetly, he thought he was going to black out. "Because if so, you need to get the lube from the nightstand. And you need to go very slow. And you need to stop if I tell you it hurts."

"Holy fucking hell," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and caressing your tits and your belly. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He practically fell off the bed in his excitement. Other than using your toys, you and he had never done this together or separately, but he was ready to go. You didn't even look hesitant as you folded your arms on the pillow and let your head come to rest as you spread your legs a little wider. "It's like your birthday tradition now," you said with a little laugh as he dug around for the lube.

"Wonder what you'll let me have next year," he asked, kissing your lips before climbing back on the bed with the small tube. He needed to calm down, so he angled himself to get at your pussy with his mouth from behind. Within seconds, he had you gasping for him, and his mustache was soaking wet. He licked you up and down, swirling his tongue around one hole before slowly dragging it to the other. Your hips were held firmly in his hands as you rolled back against him for more pressure, crying out when you let you have it only on his terms.

"Bradley!" you whined.

"Shh," he whispered, licking along your pussy with a grin. "On your birthday, you can have whatever you want."

You were going to be tight. Even as he painted you up with your own wetness, and worked the tip of his thumb into your asshole, watching the stretch with fascination as you groaned his name, he could tell. He grunted as he flipped open the lube and coated his cock with it, never taking his lips off you.

"I'm so close," you moaned, pressing yourself back against his mouth as he played with your clit. And when you eventually came for him, he brought his slick hand up and worked his thumb a little deeper this time.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, kissing your lower back and pausing.

"No. Keep going."

----------------------------

It took Bradley a while even though you were relaxed from your orgasm. It didn't hurt, but you needed him to go slow so you could be sure of this new sensation. First his thumb. Then his cock.

"Oh my god," you whined, your eyes squeezed shut at just how full you were. You could feel the cool drizzle of lube hitting your body before your husband's hands returned to your hips in the gentlest caress. The stretch was almost too much as he moaned and whispered your name behind you over and over again. "Go slow," you reminded him when his thrusts started coming faster, and he took care of everything you needed.

Bradley's words were becoming unintelligible. He said something about his birthday before he told you he loved you. The soft glide from the extra lubrication was aided as you flattened your back out, and then Bradley gasped, "It feels so good. Too fucking good."

When he pushed a little deeper, you grunted, ready to tell him that was far enough. But you didn't need to worry. You could feel him slowly easing back out of you until that foreign feeling of being filled to the brim eased up and then vanished. Bradley yanked your body up so you were standing on your knees in front of him. His sweaty forehead came to rest on your shoulder as he panted and vigorously jerked off, his hand working along his cock between your body and his.

"Sweetheart," he moaned as he coated up your back and butt with his cum. "Fuck. Fuck!" He felt him run his hand through the sticky mess before he wrapped his big arms around to the front of you.

"Did you like that?"

He took a few deep breaths before his lips and mustache were tickling your ear. "I love everything we do together. I love you."

You felt warm all over from his words and his body, and he held you tight for a long time just like that as he caught his breath.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, slipping off the bed and pulling you carefully with him. You didn't feel sore, exactly. You were just more aware of everything as you moved slowly.

"No," you promised, shaking your head at him. He helped you pull on his UVA shirt before he carried you back to the kitchen. "I'm just a little tired. You wear me out more than my toys do."

He laughed as he set you down and took the leftover Marry Me Rooster out of the refrigerator. "I feel like your butt is for special occasions?"

Now you were laughing. "Like your birthday?"

"Yeah. Like my birthday. Now let's eat together and have my cake and take a bath. Then maybe you can replicate the rest of the calendar photo poses for me to see in person?"

"Oh. You really liked that."

"I really liked that."

-------------------------

Bradley held you against his chest in the bathtub. It was late now, and the bathroom was lit by one single candle in the darkness as he sang to you. He was relaxed, soothed by the feel of your hand on his thigh, and when you turned and smiled up at him, he kissed you.

"Don't forget, my parents are coming in a few days."

He'd already forgotten. The special mission and then coming home to you had clouded his brain and made him a little shortsighted, but not in a bad way. He loved your parents. "Right," he said with a nod. "Sounds good."

"And we'll have to leave earlier tomorrow morning so you can follow me to the mechanic."

He'd forgotten about that, too. Fuck. Your car was your favorite possession. Bradley truly did not understand the appeal, but you'd had the stupid thing forever. "Sure," he grunted, already nervous again. You nuzzled his cheek and then stood in front of him, and he leaned in to kiss along your ass while you giggled.

Today had been perfect. Last night, too. Other than breaking your car, Bradley was just happy to be home. It didn't really matter to him that you'd given him a little birthday celebration and agreed to try something new in bed, being with you was the most important thing. You and he had spent a lot of time apart over the past year and a half, and he was hoping that the successful mission might help shape the trajectory of his career to make things a little easier in that regard. Especially if you did get pregnant on your own, or if a conversation about alternative options took place in the future.

Bradley eventually fell asleep with you draped across his chest. He read to you from his new notebook, but he skipped the pages about his dream where you were pregnant. It felt like too much for tonight. He turned the light off, and your hand found his tattoo like it was a magnet for you. Even though he was exhausted, his mind was swirling as he tried to fall asleep.

Monday morning was a rush to get out of the house on time, and when you started your little piece of shit car on the driveway, it made such a distressing sound, Bradley almost insisted you get it towed instead. But you backed it out onto the road, and he followed you to his mechanic.

"I'm scared," you told him when you dropped the keys off at the front desk. "It sounds really sick this time." He had to kiss away the crease along your brow.

"Let's just play it by ear," he told you, taking your hand and leading you back to the Bronco. He patted your ass in your uniform pants as you climbed in, and he buckled your seatbelt. "How are you feeling today anyway?" he asked with a smirk that you kissed off his face.

"If you're referring to my butt, I'm a little sore," you told him, running your fingers along his scars. "But I'll be interested in the next special occasion." He climbed in with you and gave you sloppy kisses as you laughed. "Roo! We'll be late for work. I have a meeting with Bickel at nine."

"Aww, you can be late. Just tell him we were talking about your ass."

"Bradley," you snorted. "I will not."

He kissed you one more time before climbing off of you and closing the door. The drive to base was short, and you held his hand the whole way. He had to keep turning the radio volume up as you sang along badly, but you just kept getting louder with it.

"You're a nightmare," he informed you when he parked and killed the engine. "And god, I fucking love you so much." The way you kissed him made him want to put the key back in the ignition and drive you home to bed. Your hand was just about on his cock in his khakis when you pulled away.

"Gotta run!" He watched you stroll off toward the side entrance, waving at him coyly over your shoulder as he adjusted himself and headed for the locker room.

Bradley's day was going great. He was happy to see Nat, and he was looking forward to having lunch with you if you could get away from your lab. But when he checked his phone around noon as he walked to the cafeteria, he had a new voicemail from the mechanic. He could see you in line for your burrito bowl as you chatted with Bob. He could practically hear you laughing as he played the message and cringed.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, give me a call back. The car is totaled."

------------------------------

Oop. I can see the tears flowing already. Fix this, Bradley. Parents are visiting soon. So many things are happening soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 24

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