#implied plus size reader

[ivymarquis]

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :) #my writing

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Replacement Therapy

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

In a desperate attempt to save your marriage, you begin to attend counseling with the famed Doctor Lecter but soon enough, things begin to take a turn. Based on prompt by @queenstarlight2

Warnings: mention of cheating, VERY INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP, reader has defined married name (let me know if you recognise it), reader is ever so slightly naive and easy to manipulate, insecurity (not explicitly mentioned what they are), murder, blood, little bit of humping and making out, implied smut, nudity

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice!!

Minors DNI

It was embarrassing, truly. Your husband said it was a disgrace too. But here you were, attending marriage counseling alone. There was no one else in the luxurious waiting room and you were grateful for that small reprieve, you don’t think you could have handled any more humiliation today.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter came highly regarded as the best (and most expensive) therapist in the state. So, foolishly, you had signed yourself and your husband of three years up for a session to see if you could fix your marriage. After all, it had been your fault that he cheated on you with his secretary, you were the one that selfishly denied him.

“Mrs Hansen?” You looked up to see a very well dressed older man standing in the doorway. His yellow eyes were fixated on you like a predator watching their prey but it didn’t scare you. You nodded and he shifted so his lean body was side on, gesturing for you to enter his office. Gathering up your coat and purse, you walked in.

The office was really quite lovely, walls covered in books, beautiful leather chairs and an ornate desk made you feel as if you had stepped into someone’s home rather than a psychiatrist’s practice. “Can I take your coat Mrs Hansen?” Dr Lecter stepped closer, offering his large hand to you.

“Um yes, thank you.” Your hands brushed as you gave him the expensive coat Lloyd bought for you. He smiled kindly at you before he turned his back so he could hang the garment up on the rack next to his own. You noted his suit, it was similar to the suits associates of your husband’s wore: expensive, exclusive.

“Take a seat and we can begin.” The smooth leather squeaked against the bare skin of your legs as you sat, the sound filling the otherwise silent office. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly tugged down the hem of your dress over the expanse of your plump thighs. 

The doctor soon found his own seat opposite you. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did, taking on a relaxed air, as if he were about to watch television or read a book. It put you immediately at ease. “So tell me, why do you believe you are in need of counseling?” His voice was smooth and rich like an aged whiskey. 

“Well, recently, my husband and I have been going through a rough patch and I thought-“ You started, nervously playing with the gaudy wedding ring on your finger when Doctor Lecter stopped you.

“I asked why you needed counseling, not your husband. I do not doubt that he is in need of it but I make it a habit not to diagnose in absentia. So Mrs Hansen, I ask again; why do you need help?” The silence was deafening as his words sunk in. When was the last time someone offered to help? You were lost in your own mind, the questions consuming you.

But the doctor was patient, simply letting you experience your thoughts without any interruption. Too lost in your spiraling mind, you didn’t see how his eyes trailed down the length of your plump body, taking in each and every detail like you were some rare and beautiful creature. “I-I don’t know Doctor Lecter. I feel like I can’t be fixed but maybe my marriage can.”

“And why is it so important that you fix the marriage that is obviously making you unhappy?” Your head shot up with such a force your neck clicked.

“I’m not unhappy, I love my husband.” He tsked and leaned back in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Now now Mrs Hansen, I don’t tolerate liars in this office. I respect you enough to tell you to tell the truth and I expect the same respect from you.” You felt like a scolded child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until the tears fell onto your folded hands, rolling down onto your dress. “I love my husband.” You emphasised half-heartedly. Your voice thickened as more tears welled up, making your vision swim.

“And I do not doubt that my dear. But those we love can make us unhappy. And it is in your best interest to recognise that.” A box of tissues appeared before you, you took the whole thing. “How about we start at what makes you happy, do you have any hobbies?”

——————

Your sessions with Doctor Lecter, Hannibal as he insisted you call him, were the highlight of your week. Everything was getting better! Lloyd had even stopped pestering you about it, just sending you out the door with his black card to pay for it.

Hannibal had been wonderful, he helped you rediscover old passions and find new ones to keep your mind occupied during the day since Lloyd insisted you become a housewife after you were married. You felt lighter and truly happier. 

But the only downside to this whole thing was your unfortunate crush on the older man. Who could blame you? He was sauve and sophisticated but not condescending. He was kind but not a roll over. He was handsome but not unobtainable. He knew your soul better than Lloyd, he always seemed to know what you needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with you. He recommended wines and getaways, museums and art galleries, he had even picked out a new perfume for you that had made your husband go absolutely feral for you.

A part of you wished you had met the doctor before Lloyd. You often wondered what your life would have been like if he was the one that swept you off your feet first. 

“How have you been this week? Have you been journalling like I asked you to?” You nodded, a large smile on your face. You pulled the beautiful leather-bound journal from your bag and handed it over to the good doctor without hesitation.

“Yep! Just like you told me to! One entry in the morning as soon as I get up and one at night right before I go to bed.” Hannibal winked at you from over his glasses.

“Very good girl." He purred before opening the book and beginning to read. It had been a strange request, to write down all your thoughts and actions through the day, including, well more like emphasising anything sexual that happened, especially if you pleasured yourself. But you trusted Hannibal and knew that he would do whatever was best for you.

“I see you and Mr Hansen had intercourse this week.” Your breath caught in your throat at his tone and the sudden frown marring his perfect face. Shamefully, you looked down at your lap.

“Yes we did.”

“But you write that you didn’t enjoy it. Can you tell me why?” Because I was thinking about you the whole time and what you would feel like inside of me instead of him. But you couldn’t say that to your therapist.

So you just shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.” But like all lies you told him, Hannibal saw right through it, although, this time, he didn’t make any comment.

“I hope you were able to take care of yourself after then, I would hate to think that he left you feeling vulnerable and unsafe.” You most certainly had. A quick trip to the bathroom after he fell asleep with your waterproof vibrator and a tub full of hot soapy water and fixed the ache between your thighs. Especially when you called out Hannibal’s name when you climaxed.

“I took a hot bath and drank a glass of that red wine you recommended last week.” He nodded approvingly, the smile returning to his lips as he placed the book on the side table next to him. His legs spread slightly and you could not help but sneak a quick glance at the sizeable bulge hidden by his navy pinstripe pants.

Your eyes snapped back up to his own as he began to speak again. “Now this is a strange question but I find it useful to ask my patients this sometimes. How many times do you think you have had sex with your husband?” 

“What?” You breathed, legitimately shocked by the question. How could he even ask that? But like he could read your mind, Hannibal explained himself.

“I only ask because to a woman such as yourself who values intimacy and physical connection, sex is a very important and healthy part of a relationship. Knowing how often you and Mr Hansen engaged in such acts, and by focusing on how often it used to occur versus now can give me a better idea as to the state of your marriage.” 

Sceptically, you withdrew slightly, thinking about the many times you had been intimate with Lloyd. It hurt to reminisce on the times before your marriage when he was your whole world and you were his. When did it change? Or was it ever like that? “We dated for three months before we got married. We used to have sex at least twice a day. And then on the honeymoon it was pretty much a 12 hour affair every day. But about a month after we got back, the sex stopped. Since then it’s maybe been 10 or 20 times.” Hannibal slumped forward, his scruffy chin coming to rest on his intertwined fingers as he did the math in his head. 

“It isn’t unusual for couples to stop being intimate but it is certainly questionable for the sex to stop so quickly after it frequently occurred. Is there any reason you believe this has happened?” And like you couldn’t stop it, you started spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to him, just like all the times before.

——————

Fridays were reserved for Hannibal, you made that very clear to your life partner and apparently, he had taken full advantage of that. You stared at his computer in complete disbelief. There were thousands of messages from hundreds of women, each detailing the dirty and almost borderline illegal acts he committed with them.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, only wanting to find your mother’s pie recipe to give to Hannibal for today’s session but the logs were right there! Like he wanted you to find them. In a haze, you printed out as many of the chats as you could and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hmm.” Hannibal hummed as he looked over the various sheets of paper. His face remained neutral but inside he was seething. You had already confided in him about your husband's past ‘indiscretions’ and your insecurity about pleasing him sexually. “I won’t ask you how you feel about these chats because that would be unhelpful so instead I’m going to ask about what you wish to do about it.”

You had his undivided attention, his amber eyes locked on you as he awaited your decision. “I want to leave him.” Hannibal’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “B-but I can’t afford the divorce. All of our money is his.” 

Slipping from his seat, he knelt before you as if in worship. Your legs squeezed together, both to sate your arousal from his close proximity and to prevent him catching sight of your soaked panties. “You needn’t worry my flower, I have more than enough money to buy your freedom.” 

“I can’t let you do that Hannibal. You’ve done so much for me already and I’ll forever be grateful but this is something I need to do on my own.” His eyes grew softer, filled with swirling emotion. Palms skated up your leg, cupping the side of your knee in a grip far too tight to be friendly.

The doctor was close enough now you could study the details of his face far more than you ever could before.  Your gaze followed the lines of his wrinkles, going from the crows feet by his eyes to the smile lines on his cheeks. Then to his lips. “I would do anything for you, my flower, you never have to ask.” Slowly, his hands moved higher and his lean body closer. His broad shoulders forced your legs apart so he could rest between them. “If I cannot give you financial support, let me offer you my home, at least until you are on your own two feet.”

You could not speak, too lost in the idea of surging forward and finally kissing him. “Ok.” You murmured, conceding to his wishes. 

“Wonderful. Then how about we wrap up this session early so we can get you home and fed.” You whined low in your throat as he slipped away but thankfully, he didn’t hear you. He helped you to your feet and then turned to fetch your coats

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” You said jokingly. He laughed but you missed the truly wicked grin spreading over his face. Oh yes, whatever he wants indeed.

——————

You were truly beautiful when you slept. It was like all of your worries and stresses washed away, leaving you almost fae-like in appearance. Hannibal had lost count of the amount of times he had snuck into your home to catch a glimpse of your resting form. He had drawn you each time, and each time, he took something of yours. A lock of your hair, a piece of jewelry, even several panties from your hamper., things you wouldn’t really notice if they went missing.

But now, you were here, in his home and in his bed. You were his.

He had hoped that you would have come to your senses months ago and realised that he would be a better lover than this worm of a man could ever be. But it seems that you needed a bit more of a push to fall into his arms. 

The messages had been easy to fake. He knew you wanted a hero to come and save you from your husband, the chats had been the perfect excuse to come to him. 

You shifted in your sleep and the dark sheets pooled around your wide hips, exposing the way his own shirt stretched across your large body. He could even see how your nipples pebbled in the chilly air of the room. “Absolutely divine.” He could not help himself.

As quietly as he could, Hannibal slipped into the bed beside you, not caring that he was staining the bedding with the still wet blood that covered his naked skin. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to crawl up your body, taking his rightful place above you.

Red began to seep through your white shirt, blooming like a flower. “My beautiful, perfect flower.” He nosed along your pulse point, inhaling your alluring scent like he needed it to live. You were so soft and warm, he had no doubt you would be absolutely delectable but he was far far too selfish to let you go.

His hips nudged into your own, unable to keep himself from seeking out the warmth of your core. “H-Hannibal?” Your eyes were barely open but they were dark with lust, almost as if you had been expecting him like this.

“I am sorry to have woken you my flower but you were far too alluring for me to just walk away.” He returned to your neck, now licking at your slightly salty skin. 

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hips canting upwards, bumping into his cock. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Is this a dream?”

Hannibal planted his forearm by your head so he could guide your shapely leg over his waist. “If it is, I hope we never wake because I have lots I must do with you.” Your fingers tangled in his silvery hair, overcome with electricity in your veins.

“You have slept with your idiotic husband almost 400 times and I must scrub away his touch from your heavenly body.” 

“Should we get started then?” You asked coyly and Hannibal couldn’t help but oblige you.

Prompt: Imagine yandere Hannibal asking how often you and your husband have had sex during a therapy session, saying it might be making you unhappy. When the reason he asked was that he wanted to know how many times he was going to have to fuck you to make you forget about your husband

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[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sooo idk if u take requests and this is super angst but it’s been in my mind. Kinda like ghosts and mirages can u write a fic where jay finds readers (his gf) notebook and sees that she’s suicidal? And how he stops her? If this is too much angst I get it. Mwah !

TW: Suicide/self harm/mentions of attempts. STRONG topics, this was difficult to write but if it brings comfort to someone in need, I hope so. Please be advised.

- -

Before Jason was killed, he had natural ideas of death, as did everyone else.

What did heaven look like? Was it a fluffy clouded paradise? Would people find eternal happiness sitting by crystallize rivers glimmering in the sun, feasting on ripe fruits like Adam and Eve had done before them?

Everyone’s ideals were different, Jason’s had always changed. However, he liked the idea of this heaven, enjoying the possibilities of seeing his old pets running to him once the time came.

Just like the torch passed from one Robin to the next, things unexpectedly change.

When Jason died, there was nothing.

No heaven, no hell, no happiness. Maybe God held his soul on standby because he knew he’d return to the living. He wasn’t happy about it for the longest time.

Luckily, a piece of heaven blessed itself in a person such as yourself. Your smile as bright as sunshine, your heart as sweet and pure as gold. He’s never met anyone so happy, so free spirited and optimistic.

He didn’t mean to read it. He really didn’t.

He watched you write in journals all the time, ripping out pages when it came to grocery lists or phone numbers to shove in your backpack before leaving the door. He was only looking for a shopping list you texted him to take a photo of, only to come across the tragedies you’ve dealt with and still carry.

His heart absolutely shattered when he reads the vivid darkness of your sorrows embodied within the pages of your private journal. A painful burn forming deep in his chest, right in his own heart.

What worried him the most was your latest entry, dated on a Monday in fresh ink. Monday. Yesterday.

When you came home in question as to why Jason never sent you that list, you didn’t expect him to be sitting in the living room. His head hung low, his hands clenched together in desperation.

He didn’t bother to say anything. He didn’t need to.

Your journal, your cursed, dark brown journal was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Your silence screams out to him, his head turning to acknowledge your presence. He stands slowly, watching you carelessly drop your backpack onto the floor, looking absolutely horrified at what’s to come.

“Jason,” you say, staying right where you were at the door. “Stop. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, staring at you with somber eyes.

“Stop that,” you instantly reply, feeling your heart beat much faster. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” You exclaim, your breathing growing more frantic. “Like I’m ... like there’s something wrong with me! Cut it out! Stop it!”

“I’m not—!” Jason’s voice accidentally raised, forcing himself to hold his tongue, his hands balled tightly by his sides.

“There’s nothing wrong with you baby,” He begins to say, only met with your shaking head.

“No, y’know what? Don’t bother,” you reply, quickly reaching for your keys.

You weren’t going to take that kind of conversation from anyone else ever again. The same, horrid words you’ve heard from your parents, your siblings, your friends.

You’re sick. How could you do this? What’s wrong with you? You need to be locked up somewhere.

Bold, accusatory statements that hurt worse than any knife ever could.

“You read it. It wouldn’t be sitting there if you hadn’t! I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you tell me that I’m—“

“Just stop!” He rips the keys from your hands, taking you by surprise at how fast he reached you. He nearly traps you against the door, hands grasping firmly along your shoulders.

“There’s nothing, baby!” He states right to your face, making your eyes grow wide. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. I won’t let you think there is, get that shit out of your head right now!”

“B-but,” you start to babble, thick tears heading in the borders of your eyes. “I- I just -“

“You’re not crazy,” he interrupts, cradling your face in his heavy, trembling hands. “You’re not sick. Theirs nothing wrong with you, y’hear me? Nothing! Not a damn thing!”

Jason exhales a pained laugh, his own eyes spewing with tears. “Take it from me, babygirl. I’ve already died once, I’ll die again if you think like this.”

Speechless stole your ability to think, your ability to breathe. Your throat constricts around an invisible ball of molten steel, making you choke on your tears.

“I know you don’t wanna go, Princess,” Jason’s voice grows softer, both his thumbs making work in wiping your tears. “I know you don’t. You’re just tired, baby. That’s all.”

Slowly, you find yourself nodding, watching him nod with you.

“I’m tired,” you admit, gasping heavily in your newly weakened vulnerability. “I’m so tired, Jason.”

He holds you close to his body, clutching you as if saving you from a devastating fall. He knows this pain all too well, and you’ve saved him from it.

“I know,” he exhales, keeping you from withering away in the safety of his arms. “I gotcha now, okay baby? M’not going anywhere, jus’ let it out. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

His biggest regret was letting those entries fill up three quarters of the journal. How many more did you fill up before then? How much pain do you carry in your heart that you need to hide via forcefully brighter smiles?

He wasn’t going to let this go on much longer. He needed you to know that someone in this harsh world understood the exhaustion, and that it was okay.

He didn’t know if Heaven or Hell truly existed, or if it was all just some huge hole of dark nothingness. He didn’t want you finding out either, feeling he’d be torn at the idea of bringing you to a Lazarus pit, but relenting on the possible side effects you’d suffer for it.

You deserved nothing of what Jason experienced, the man himself now feeling hellbent to protect you from it.

There wasn’t going to be any attempt, because Jason would do everything in his damn power to make sure that never, ever fucking happens.

Medications were locked, except the essentials, which even he supervised. He’d order from your favorite restaurants for a short while, preventing any use of kitchen cutlery.

He’d dote, making sure you kept your hygiene maintained. He’d enjoy sitting beside you outside the tub while you bathed, reading to you to keep you company. Though on certain days, you’d find his eyes flicker from the paper towards your hands when you had to use a razor, which even he was iffy about, and hid once you were done.

He never said he didn’t trust you, but don’t really be surprised if your razor is replaced with hair removal cream for the first few weeks.

If you were comfortable enough to seek out therapy, he’d offer up numbers of therapists he’s visited and trusted, helping you keep up schedules. After each session, he’d surprise you with flowers and boba on a park walk, or drive outside of Gotham.

Progress would be made, but progress wouldn’t move forward without your weak moments.

You’d have your days where your motivation was as stubborn as Jason’s mentality, refusing to listen to the things he said, or not bothering to get dressed for your next scheduled session.

Depression is horrid, but he understood. He was the most patient man you knew, cradling your body close to his in the middle of the night, muffling your minutes of screaming sobs against his chest, gently prying your hands away from your forearms when you dig your nails in a little too deep.

He’d remain awake as long as he had to, cradling your hands in his until your agony mellowed out, lulling you back to sleep. He was being the person he wished he had by his side long before he met you, back when he was alone and had no one.

Jason looked forward to the days you’d smile again, genuine happiness being a fuel to those pleasant flames. It’s okay if it would take a long time, keep giving him your tears. He can handle it.

You were the greatest gift he’s ever gotten in this fucked up world, not even you were going to take it away from him.

- -

I don’t know what death is like, nor do I know of all beliefs everyone has of them, but I do know about suicidal thoughts/intentions and having experienced them, please know, as tired as you may be, it isn’t worth it. My inbox is open if you ever need it. Dosent matter if you’re a stranger, let’s not be ❤️

#this hurt #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x plus size reader #angst #heavy angst #tw self destruction #tw sui implied

[nowgiveusakiss]

as long as you love me so

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s never liked christmas but maybe you can fix that. 8.9k

warnings: brief mentions of a neglectful childhood

Eddie wasn’t one for celebrating Christmas. Always throwing out excuses like ‘it’s capitalism at work’ or ‘it’s based on some made up story about some random dude’ when his friends ask him what his holiday plans are. He doesn’t actually hate the holiday, he’s just never seen a point in it. Most of his childhood was spent with a drunk father and a runaway mother, so Christmas was never even on the table.

Constantly listening to the other kids talk about what they got for Christmas or what they were writing on their lists or trips to some ski lodge. Eddie can’t sit here and say that it didn’t hurt. When he was still in elementary school, before Uncle Wayne, he used to make up stories about gifts he got. Creating this fantasy world where his parents were picture perfect and spoiled him with everything he could ever desire.

Once he was in middle school, he stopped playing make believe. His dad’s mistakes finally caught up to him and his mom never came back, so Uncle Wayne stepped up. His view on life became pretty cynical after that.

Wayne tried his hardest to give Eddie a normal Christmas but Eddie was no fool. He knew Wayne couldn’t afford the Christmas he used to dream about. After watching Wayne calculate and recalculate bills all for some silly holiday, Eddie assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“Wayne, I don’t need anything. I can’t even think of anything I would want anyway so don’t worry about it.” A lie. Eddie could think of plenty things he wants but none of it was worth watching Wayne work himself to the bone for. Wayne tries to argue with 12 year old Eddie but both Munsons are stubborn as bulls.

After Eddie threatens to sleep outside and skip school every day in protest, Wayne finally relents. He knows deep down that financially, he can’t make it happen. No matter how badly he wishes he could.

Christmas was a luxury the Munsons couldn’t afford.

They grow accustomed to the mundaneness of it all. letting each Christmas pass them by as if it were any other day. Never any decorations. No lights, no tree, no cookies for Santa. Rather than indulging in the traditions that come with the season, Wayne and Eddie use this time to rake in some extra cash. Wayne picking up shifts at the plant so the guys with families can celebrate with their own. Eddie offering house calls for an extra fee, taking advantage of the fact that kids need something to take the edge off but are trapped in their homes by demand of the parents. Both boys not giving a second thought to the day. It never mattered, especially not to Eddie.

Until he met you.

You’re the pretty little thing that works at the local record store. A quiet girl. Probably doesn’t even realize how pretty she is, Eddie thinks. He remembers you from Hawkins High, having meant to graduate in the same class as you but Eddie never claimed to be a scholar. Now here he is on his third try of senior year. But this year is gonna be his year. He can feel it.

Eddie is a frequent visitor to your store. He visits at least four times a week. He could lie and say he comes in so often to keep up to date with new releases but really he comes in for you. To see how you styled your hair, what color skirt you picked out, whether you decided to wear makeup that day. He’s even got your schedule memorized, only now realizing what a creep he must seem like to you.

What Eddie doesn’t know is that you remember him from school too. He sat up one desk and to the right from you in Mrs. Demoine’s algebra class. He doesn’t know you used to watch him solve the problems in his head. Or that you picked up his habit of sticking his tongue out when he’s focused. Or that you admire the boldness of him being unapologetically himself in a community that thinks him evil. You know better than them. You saw the way Eddie took those kids under his wing, treating them as if they were his little brothers. His prodigies.

A few months pass of Eddie silently pretending to look through records before he decides to finally speak to you.

You’re lost in cataloging the newest shipment of The Smith’s latest album, having been selling out fairly quickly.

“Do you guys have any Metallica?” You snap your head up at the familiar voice, doubting there’s anyway he could be speaking to you. When your eyes meet his, you realize that he is, in fact, speaking to you.

The Eddie Munson is currently leaning over the counter you’re working, into your personal space. breathing your air, asking you a question. You fumble with the tape you’re holding and it clatters down on to the countertop.

“Shit- um, yeah. Yeah, we have Metallica. Are you looking for something specific?” Your hands are shaking as you try to put the tape back into it’s case. How were you supposed to keep cool when Eddie was staring at you with those big brown eyes? It’s practically impossible.

Eddie sees you’re shaking and fears that you might be scared of him. He knows what people say about him. Maybe you believe them. Maybe he should just walk away from you before you tell all your friends how the freak tried to lure you into his satanic cult.

But then again, you’re looking up at him with the kindest eyes he’s ever seen. He can see that you’re nervous but maybe that’s the lingering shyness he remembers from high school, not fear.

“We actually just got the vinyl’s for Master of Puppets last night, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You’re trying to fill the silence that Eddie left, not answering your initial question. Instead just staring at you. But you seem to snap him out of whatever trance he was in and he visibly relaxes his shoulders.

Your soft smile puts Eddie at ease. There’s no way a nice girl like you would ever believe those stupid rumors. The way you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the room makes his stomach churn.

“You read my mind.” He flashes a cheshire grin, all teeth and round cheeks. You tell him where he can find it as if he doesn’t know exactly what section Metallica is under. Eddie turns around in a slow circle to examine the entirety of the shop, feigning ignorance. When his gaze finally meets yours, he gives you his best ‘lost in the woods’ look.

“Well you know, miss, I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. Would you mind showing me the way?” Your immediate reaction is confusion. Eddie probably knows this store better than you as much as he’s here. He’s even bought a Metallica tape from you before. He’s got this look on his face, like he knows a secret you don’t.

It clicks.

Eddie Munson is flirting with you.

That was in march of ‘86. You two have been inseparable since. You’ve met all his friends, gone to his D&D sessions, met Uncle Wayne, even cheered him on at graduation. But neither of you has taken the risk of asking the dreaded boyfriend/girlfriend question. Preferring to stay in the comfort of friendship and occasional flirting.

Okay, frequent flirting.

It’s actually through this innocent flirting that the topic of christmas comes up. Eddie’s got on this huge red sweater with a bow stuck to the front, a gag gift from Dustin for Eddie’s birthday. You just had to see him in it before it eventually landed in the dump.

His face is screwed up in pure disgust. Yours is alight with amusement. Giggling and clapping as if it’s the funniest thing you’ve seen all year. It’s definitely in the top three.

“Real handsome, teddy. You look like a christmas present that I’m just dying to unwrap.” You finish with a cheeky wink and laugh as Eddie’s ears turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Really? A Christmas present? I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie let’s out a cackle at your face, his crude language always catching you off guard. You’re the sweet to his sour. Once he’s ripped the sweater off and chucked it in the bin, you ponder his response.

“What do you have against Christmas, Munson?” You throw your legs over his and settle back onto the arm of the couch. His warm hands immediately seeking out your calves, rubbing up and down.

“Christmas is just another way the man keeps us in the cycle. Making money off us for their own gain. Plus, the whole red and green thing, totally not my style.” He looks over at you to find you’re looking at him as if he’s personally offended you.

“How pessimistic of you. I love Christmas!” Eddie watches in awe and adoration as you list off all the things you love about the season. Ranting and raving about gift giving and putting up a pretty tree with handmade ornaments. While he loves your enthusiasm, he just can’t seem to get on board.

Thus begins the months long debate over Christmas. Slight jabs at his bah humbug attitude and nicknames like Mr. Grinch and Scrooge. But it’s around July that Eddie really starts to comprehend your love of the holiday. And maybe he’s coming around to the idea of celebrating. You joke that his heart has grown two inches, although that would be near deadly considering how big of a heart the boy has already.

As the holidays approach, your badgering becomes a daily occurrence. You show up at the auto shop where Eddie is now working as a mechanic on an early November afternoon. He's covered in grease and his hair is held back in a loose ponytail. Your mouth goes dry at the sight. His sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, sweat dripping down the front of his unbuttoned uniform despite the chill in the air.

“Munson, your girls here!” His coworker calls out to him over the sound of machines whirring. You flush at the idea of being Eddie’s girl. Eddie doesn’t correct him.

“Well, well, well.. what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” It’s a harmless comment. No where near as scandalous as some of the other things he’s said to you. Yet, you’re shying away like some lovesick school girl.

He’s beaming at you as he meets you halfway, not wanting you to get too far into the shop. He’s always scolding you for wandering around, lecturing you on how dangerous it is. Always receiving an “okay, daddy. whatever you say.” in jest, clearly mocking him in your tone. Eddie ignores the feeling that kicks up in his abdomen at the name. He is also trying to ignore that same feeling when he sees the skirt you’re wearing. Instead focusing on the motions of wiping his hands on the rag he kept tucked in the back pocket of his uniform.

“I came to ask you a very serious and important question.” Eddie halts his movements, white knuckling the rag in his fist.

“Okay, lay it on me.” He gestures to a more secluded area, away from the ears of his coworkers. His hand is hovering over your lower back as he leads you, not wanting to dirty your top. Especially if you’re already upset with him. He’s running through everything he’s said or done in the past week that could have upset you. His chest feels tight and he can’t suck in a full breath.

Your arms are crossed over your chest as you finally blurt out this so called important question.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Eddie visibly deflates, crouching over with a hand on his knee and the other slapped to his chest.

“You can’t do that to me, sunshine. Feel like i’m having a heart attack right now- fuck.” His heart is racing like a horse in the Kentucky derby and you’re not helping. Looking down at his crouched figure and letting those soft giggles escape your pretty mouth. You’ll be the death of him, he swears it.

“Sorry, Eds. I didn’t mean to make you freak. But to be fair, this is a very important question.” He returns to his full height, now he’s the one looking down at you. He doesn’t look too thrilled to be talking about this. And truly, he’s not. But he’s glad you came to see him anyway. Regardless of the motive.

“Maybe it’s important to you but it isn’t really all that special to me. It’s all kinda stupid,” he replies, waving his hand as if brushing away the question flippantly. One look at your face and he regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He didn’t mean to come across so callous. The dejected look that wipes off the small smile you were holding sends a pang to Eddie’s chest. He knows Christmas is something you care about and he loves that about you. And now he’s gone and basically called you stupid for it.

Your heart sinks in your chest. Showing up like this was clearly a mistake. You didn’t expect him to be jumping up and down at the idea of celebrating Christmas with you. But you also weren’t expecting complete rejection.

You’re fumbling through apologies and making up excuses to leave. Maybe coming here and bothering him at work over something you know he has no interest in wasn’t a good idea. A phone call would’ve been fine. Or just leaving him alone all together. You’re regretting ever coming in the first place.

As you start to step back after a stuttered goodbye, Eddie reaches out for your wrist. He doesn’t want you to go.

“Wait, please stay. I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh. It’s not stupid, poor choice of words. It’s just I’ve never seen the point in the whole thing. But I love that you love it.” The smile returns to your face. Eddie wants to press his finger into the crease that forms on the side of your mouth. “I just meant that you don’t need to worry about me.”

You take his apology in stride. Something about the way he looks at you and the way he says he loves that you love Christmas makes you want to forget he even hurt your feelings in the first place.

“Well too late because I’m always gonna worry about you, teddy.” His heart soars in his chest hearing that you care enough about him to worry. Eddie tries to brush off the initial question, repeating the same excuses he’s used on Wayne in the past.

“Sweetheart, really. There’s nothing I even want!” But you’re persistent. There just has to be something he’s been after. Eddie never buys himself new things. He’s a boy who deserves the world but would give it away in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

“Not a single thing? I find that very unconvincing, Eddie.” He pretends to think on it. Finger to the chin, eyes cast to the sky. You can almost see the little lightbulb over his head when he finally thinks of something.

“How about this? Hows about you come over on Christmas and grace me with your presence? I’ll take that as my gift.” Eddie is grinning from ear to ear. A compromise that he feels is sufficient enough. Easily a gift just to be around you but a gift that costs nothing. He seems pretty proud of his answer.

“But I always come over! And you know I’ll spend time with you whenever you ask so that doesn’t count as a gift. Just my presence isn’t special enough!” You’re arguing with him like a toddler. You even resemble one considering the pout on your lips. Eddie mimics your pout and bends over to be eye level with you.

“I wholeheartedly disagree with you on that one. You are more than special enough.” The pout falls off your face and your eyes widen. The two of you share a look of knowing. Both wanting the same thing but both being too scared to admit it. Eddie’s gaze flicks down to your lips for the briefest of moments. You wish he would just kiss you and get it over with.

Instead he holds eye contact with you, searching for something he knows is there. Secretly hoping you will make the first move, but he knows you’re shyness would never allow for such boldness.

“Hey! Munson! You gonna finish this lemon or what?” The same coworker who insists on calling you ‘Eddie’s girl’ interrupts your moment. Eddie lets out a loud laugh before straightening his back.

“I’ve worked on that car about 5 times in the last month. Pete just won’t give it up.” You have no idea who Pete is but nod and chuckle as if you do. “I’ll see you tonight then?” Eddie’s got a gig with Corroded Coffin tonight. You haven’t missed a single show as long as you’ve known each other yet he still seeks the reassurance that you will be there. It’s sweet.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, teddy.” You flash a bright smile at him before waving your goodbyes but not before yelling a, “you’re getting something for christmas whether you like it or not.” Leaving Eddie blushing red for the remainder of his shift.

The topic of gifts has been put on the back burner, Thanksgiving now the forefront of everyone’s minds. It’s just Eddie and Wayne this year, it always is. Thanksgiving being much more financially achievable for the two man family.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to invite you. Not that he wasn’t planning on doing so, but the constant interrogation from Wayne about what your plans were was driving Eddie up the wall.

When he asks you, he can see the look of disappointment on your face. Pouring out apologies and explaining how you're visiting your grandparents out of state.

He should’ve known better. You’ve got a family to do those things with. The normal things that Eddie has never known.

You want to tell your parents ‘fuck the trip’ and stay with Eddie, but your grandparents are old. It’s grim but the fact is, they probably won’t have much time left. And it’s not like they can travel to you. But seeing Eddie’s face when you have to turn him down makes you want to cry.

In the quiet moments of the night, snuggled up in Eddie’s bed while he’s on the floor, making notes in the margin of his well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings, you remember you’re going away. In the light of the day, surrounded by Eddie’s laughs and his lewd jokes and his constant fidgeting, you were able to forget. Eddie was always good at distracting you from any negative feelings that may plague you.

You watch his brows furrow and his tongue poke over his upper lip as he underlines a quote he finds significant. He’s rubbing his rings against one another emitting a soft metallic clicking. You can see his lips barely moving as he mouths the words to himself. A subconscious habit, you figure.

You watch the way his chest rises and falls. How his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. The way his face shows every emotion he feels as he reads. The slight stubble that’s grown since he shaved this morning. The way he is totally lost in his book yet completely in tune with you, reaching back every so often to touch you. To rub your leg as a reminder to you that he hasn’t forgotten you’re there. His subtle way of thanking you for being here with him.

All these little things are becoming big things. You look away from him, staring up at his ceiling instead. Looking at him just exist close to you is enough to have you overwhelmed with emotion. You’re not coping well with the fact that you won’t feel his hand on your calf or hear his laugh for a whole week.

You realize how silly it is to be so upset. It’s not like you’re going away forever, but this will be the longest either of you have gone without seeing each other. You’re not sure you remember how to be without Eddie Munson.

“I wish I could shrink you down so I could carry you with me everywhere, teddy.” The sound of pages being slammed shut and a pen being dropped to the floor brings your gaze back to him. He laughs a little before crawling off the floor and into the spot next to you. He’s got the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face as he lays mere inches away from you.

“And why’s that? Think that would get annoying after a while.” He’s teasing you but you’re dead serious. You want him around always.

“Because I don’t like to be without you. I never want to be without you, Eddie.” The smile drops from his face as tears fall from your eyes. His heart is racing and he can’t pinpoint why. He’s thrilled at the notion that you want him around all the time but he’s upset that you’re upset. But then again, you’re so pretty when you cry. But you’re also crying over him. And why are you crying over him? Is there something else going on? He’s a mess of emotions right now.

“Sweetheart.. it’s only a week. I’ll still be here when you get back.” He pulls you into his chest and lets you cry there for a moment. Once you’re reduced to occasional sniffles and swollen eyes, you pull your face out of his chest. The pair of you stare at each other for a moment before you’re bursting into laughter. Eddie is so lost but you’re laughing so that must be a good sign.

“That was so stupid, holy shit. I can’t believe I just cried like a baby over that. I’m sorry,” you’re a giggling machine and Eddie can’t help but laugh along until the quiet finally returns. It lingers for a long time, so long Eddie thinks you might have fallen asleep.

“I meant what I said. I do wish I could carry you around with me, teddy.” He feels your warm breath through the fabric of his shirt, words whispered directly to his heart. Eddie sucks in a breath. Is this it? Is this when you finally ask him the question you’re both itching to hear? Or say the three words he’s dying to tell you too?

“If I had a magic lamp, that’s what I would wish for.”

so maybe not tonight.

But as you drift away, Eddie stays up thinking about anything and everything. Most of the thoughts revolve around you though. How you want him around, the way you’re wearing his favorite sweater, why you started calling him teddy, how he wishes you could carry him around too.

And then he gets an idea.

Maybe you could carry him around, metaphorically speaking.

Now, Eddie had zero plans to get anyone anything for Christmas. He never had and he wasn’t planning to change that now. But the perfect opportunity and the perfect person have presented themselves to him on a silver platter.

He starts to do the math in his head. Thanksgiving is in 4 days. Making Christmas in 31 days, so he really has 30 days to get the gift ready. You’ll be gone for a week starting on the 25th, which gives him 11 days to save up. If he picks up extra shifts at the shop and does a couple deals, he can save up some extra cash to make sure it’s perfect. He can pick up the supplies while you’re gone too.

The tricky part is going to be hiding it all from you. You two are practically attached at the hip and Eddie knows the second you’re back in town, you’ll want to be near him. And he’ll be dying to be around you too. He also knows that you’re smart and there’s no doubt you’ll catch on.

You spend the remainder of the four days in Hawkins working around Eddie’s work schedule. You’re a little ticked off that he took up so many shifts when he knows you’re about to be gone for a week, but maybe he really needs the money. And you can’t stay mad at him when he makes such an effort to see you even after he’s worked himself to the bone.

His schedule also gives you the perfect opportunity to get one of his Christmas gifts together. Making a trip to a print shop out in Marion, a couple cities over from Hawkins. It being the only place you could track down that would print designs onto guitar picks. Who would’ve thought it would be such a to-do?

When you handed the guy Eddie’s hand drawn logo for Corroded Coffin, he seemed to recognize the name. You got to talking to the guy and it turns out he’s made a couple trips out to The Hideout to see Corroded Coffin. He swears they’re gonna be the next big thing. You tell him all about Eddie and how this is a Christmas gift for him. The employee, Zach, says he can give you the sample today but the rest will have to be shipped.

“I’ll make sure they get there well before Christmas. Just make sure you remember me when your boyfriend gets famous.” He chuckles and hands you the pick as you flounder for words. You don’t tell him Eddie’s not your boyfriend, letting yourself live in the fantasy that he is for this moment.

Eddie’s second gift comes from a second hand store you used to visit when you were a kid when you’d stay with your grandparents in Wisconsin.

Eddie had commented multiple times on the sun pendant you wore around your neck. Even using the name ‘sunshine’ for you once in a while. Since then, you’ve been on a hunt for some kind of jewelry with a moon. But finding something like that in Eddie’s style is damn near impossible. Your last ditch effort being scouring every thrift store within a 20 mile radius of your grandparents house.

You’re ready to give up and just stick to the guitar picks and maybe a t-shirt. It’s not like he cares all that much about gifts anyway.

Until you visit that old store run by Marty, who used to ‘forget’ to charge you for an item or two. He’s still managing the place, even now that you’re all grown up. He’s beyond happy to see you, asking all about your life now. Who you’re friends are, where you’re working, if you’ve got a special someone.

During this chat, you obviously have to brag on Eddie. You have a bad habit of working him into every conversation.

Walking up and down the aisles with Marty, he tells you all about the repairs he’s had to make to the shop over the years. The wood flooring wearing down, shelves rusting, roof leaking. But he loves it all the same.

“I’ll keep this place standing with duct tape and a dream if i have to.” You snort, knowing he means that one hundred percent. He’s showing you some renovations in the back he was able to afford back in March, when you just glance at the small jewelry case. It doesn’t hold much, mostly old wedding rings or a pair of clearly vintage earrings.

You don’t really give it a second thought until Marty is pulling you over to show you a necklace he recently acquired. He says it’s from some lady who passed away who was apparently an heir to some fortune. It’s a beautiful piece but you can’t bring yourself to care when what you’ve been searching for is staring you in the face. A beautiful silver ring with a crescent moon, oversized and chunky. Very clearly worn by a previous owner with scratches and scuffs. So clearly Eddie.

“She had this grandfather who owned-“

“Marty!” You damn near startle the poor man to death with your shout. “How much for the ring?”

You’ve got eyes bigger than saucers, practically bouncing on your feet waiting for his answer. He doesn’t quite know what you’re so excited about. It’s nothing special, no diamond or gold.

“Well that depends. who’s it for?” Marty knows it can’t be for you, considering it’s clearly made for someone with much thicker fingers. And based on how excited you got, it must be for someone special. If Marty is anything, he is one nosey old man.

“It’s for my friend I was telling you about. Eddie. I’ve been looking everywhere for something like that!” Marty considers you for a moment. He takes a second to replay the last hour you’ve spent in the store, bringing up this ‘Eddie’ no less than a million times. He’s lived a long time, seen a lot of things.

“Yes, this boy who you ramble on about but is just a friend. That one?” you roll your eyes at his insinuation.

“Yes, Marty, that one.” You let out a huff at Marty’s infuriating grin. The one where he looks like he’s got you all figured out.

“In the spirit of love, you can have it free of charge.” The shit eating grin he gives you is bigger than the state of Texas.

“Jesus… You’re lucky I like you, old man.” He bags up the ring and slides it across the counter. He gives you a stern look before letting you take it from him.

“You tell that boy he better be good to you or Marty here will have to pay him a visit. Can’t be having my best girl with some rascal.” You shake your head fondly at the man, bid him goodbye as he tells you to visit more often. You promise him you will and he waves at you until you can’t see him in the rear view anymore.

Back in Hawkins, Eddie’s room is a mess of fabric and sewing needles. This tiny jacket he’s sewing is giving him hell. He’s pricked himself approximately ten times in the last half hour. He’s really putting his artistic skills to the test. Utilizing every ounce of knowledge he’s picked up from painting D&D figures and sewing patches onto his battle vest. This whole gift idea is turning out to be a lot more time consuming than he anticipated.

He spent a solid five hours in every toy store in the near vicinity, even traveling as far as Indianapolis. He spent every last cent he owned on fabric and paint and gas to acquire said items. It will all be worth it though to see the look on your face when he gives it to you.

When you knock on his door for the first time in a week while he’s in the middle of painting a tiny patch of denim, he’s scrambling to hide the evidence. Determined to not spoil the surprise. He flings open the trailer door to see you standing there in sweatpants and his sweater, which he could’ve sworn he lost about a week ago.

“You know, it’s not very kind to steal, sunshine.” Eddie thinks his eardrums have suffered some serious damage after the way you squeal his name. Practically tackling him back into the living room with arms tight around his neck. His hands seek you out just as quickly, one gripping the softness of your waist and the other resting gently on the back of your head. He can’t suppress the grin that spreads over his face, eyes squinting from how hard his cheeks push up.

“Missed you so much, teddy.” The words vibrate in his neck. He can feel you smiling against his skin. When you pull away, it takes every muscle in his body to not keep you tucked against him until there’s no way to know where he ends and you begin.

“I missed you even more.” You’re still grinning up at him and he has yet to let go of the grip he has on your waist, tethering you to him for as long as you’ll let him. He’s missed being able to touch you, see you, talk to you. Before you left, he had tried to argue that he should get to call you at least once but you weren’t having it. The rates for out of state phone calls were beyond either of your budgets.

Eddie would’ve paid anything, done anything, just to hear you speak his name.

Once you’ve finally settled into the couch, legs thrown over Eddie as he strokes up and down your calf, he finally asks you about the trip.

You tell him all about your grandparents and how things have changed since your last visit. The new dog they rescued and the chickens that wander in the house through the doggy door.

Eddie is trying his best to listen. He really is. But it’s hard to pay attention to the words coming out of your mouth when he’s too busy admiring you. The miniscule movements of the muscles in your face as you shift through a range of emotions. You’re practically vibrating with energy as you retell your every movement while you were away.

He’s snapped out of his trance at your next words.

“And… I’ve got your Christmas gifts, Mr. Munson.” Eddie opens his mouth to respond before he takes a second to replay a specific word in that sentence.

“Hold on. Gifts, plural? As in multiple?” You’re grinning like the cat that ate the canary. You watch as Eddie tosses his head back onto the couch and runs his hands down his face. He rubs his eyes out of frustration and gives you the meanest glare he can muster.

Which isn’t very mean for a guy who’s nickname is teddy.

“If looks could kill.” Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. You know what he’s probably thinking. That he doesn’t deserve anything. That he’s not worth the effort or the money.

And you’re right. Eddie’s mind is full of self doubts. He doesn’t think he deserves the gifts but more importantly, he doesn’t deserve you. Someone who cares enough to want him to have a good Christmas, despite his constant criticism of the holiday.

He wants to insist you take them back and push you as far away as he possibly can. But there’s a part of him that wants to be spoiled, just this once. The part that wants to keep you all to himself and let you shower him in love.

He’s looking at you with those big, sad brown eyes and you just can’t stand it anymore.

“It’s just two things, teddy. Three if you count my promise to spend the day with you.” He huffs in your direction and you decide it’s enough of a response, shifting the topic back to your travels.

“Marty told me to tell you that if you hurt his best girls feelings, he’s gonna have to pay you a visit. So you better play nice, Munson.”

“His best girl? I might have to pay him a visit first.”

Eddie spends the remaining weeks in secrecy. He’s barely let you step foot in his trailer lately. He’s starting to run out of excuses until it’s finally Christmas day. He spent all Christmas Eve finishing up his project, adding final touches and stitches.

You’ve finished opening presents with your family and have now set up post at the telephone to wait for Eddie’s call. You’ve got his gifts wrapped in metallic black paper you were able to dig out of the bottom of a bin at the local craft store. The clerk gave you a weird look when you put it on the counter, shocked they even carried such an item. But Eddie didn’t seem like the snowflakes and Santa wrapping paper kinda guy.

You’re all kinds of nervous. It’s silly to even think such a thing but what if he hates them? You don’t want him to pretend he loves them if he doesn’t actually love them. But you’ll also be heartbroken if he seems unimpressed. And he’s been acting all weird lately so that’s not helping.

You’re chewing on your fingernails when the shrill ring of the phone startles you.

“Hello?”

“Well hello there, do tell. Were you on the nice list this year?” You can hear the smile on Eddie’s face through the speaker.

“I don’t know, I don’t think Santa checked his list twice this year. There’s no way I ended up on the nice list.” You can hear a chuckle on the other end.

“Personally, I’m dying to find out if I’m on your naughty or nice list. Why don’t you come on over and break the news in person?” You don’t have to see him to know he’s got his hand to his chest, feigning a shot through the heart. You tell him you’re on your way and rush out to your car.

Hawkins winter is anything but forgiving as you plead with the heater to kick on in your old Volkswagen. You don’t have the patience to wait for it to cooperate as you speed over to the Forest Hills trailer park. As you pull up to the Munson’s residence, Eddie is sat on the couch on the porch smoking a cigarette. He’s not even wearing a coat, just his everyday attire.

“Teddy! You’re gonna freeze to death out here!” You’re chastising him as you run up the steps, careful to keep a grip on your gifts.

“So dramatic, sunshine.” He finishes off his cigarette and stomps out the butt with his sneaker. He blows the smoke away from your face as he slings an arm over your shoulders. You let him lead you into the warmth of the trailer. You know Uncle Wayne more than likely cranked it up for you, wanting you to be comfortable even if it means a higher electric bill this month. If he was here, you’d chastise him too.

Eddie helps you take off your winter coat before you toe off your boots, leaving you in your Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer socks. As you settle onto the couch in your designated position, legs thrown over Eddie’s thighs, he makes a comment on said socks.

“Killer socks, bub.” You roll your eyes and shove your gift boxes at him.

“Shut up and open your presents, dingus.” Eddie jabs that you’ve been spending too much time with Robin as he opens the first gift.

Eddie seems to hesitate as he sees the black velvet box, immediately recognizing it as something that carries jewelry. And not just the cheap jewelry he gets from the halloween store once a year. The real shit. He sucks in a deep breath before flipping the top of the box to reveal a thick silver ring.

“Is that a-“

“A moon? Yeah, ya know cause you always call me sunshine. I figured we could match, it’s okay if you don’t want to though.” You interrupt his question with your rambling. He can tell you’re nervous but he can’t do much to settle your nerves, too busy staring at it like if he blinks it will disappear. His chest feels tight and his heart swollen. He can’t stop his eyes from watering.

He’s pondering the unintentional meaning behind him being the moon and you being the sun. Besides the obvious, he can’t help but find a parallel between the two of you and the way that the moon only shines at night because of the sun. When the two align, it’s magic.

You are the sun to his moon.

Eddie has never experienced love like this. Sure, Uncle Wayne and his friends all love him. But this is different. You’re different. This gesture which seems so small in the grand scheme of things, feels monumental to Eddie. To be loved by you is life altering.

“I can’t… I can’t accept this. It’s too much, sunshine.”

“I think it’s just enough.” Your words are reassuring but not overly so. You know if you say what you want to say, which is the fact that it’s not nearly enough, Eddie would shrink away. Just enough to remind him that you think he’s worth it. That he’s deserving.

Eddie looks up at you then. Your eyes are wide as you try to decipher what’s happening in that head of his. You’re waiting for a reaction that isn’t humble denial as he slides the ring onto his marriage finger. You try not to read too into that.

Eddie holds his hand out in front of his face, examining every groove and scuff mark. It’s imperfect but a perfect fit for him. He’ll cherish it forever.

“Thank you. Seriously. It’s beautiful.” Eddie reaches for your hand, squeezing it in his gently. He’s looking so deeply into your eyes you’re afraid he’ll be able to see your thoughts. Clearing your throat, you pull your hand from his grasp to pick up the second gift.

“You still have one more to open. And might I say, I’m quite proud of this one.” Eddie’s smile is dazzling. Finally allowing himself to become giddy. To allow his inner child to make an appearance.

He rips open the paper like it’s life or death. This time it’s just a small cardboard box. He sighs quietly in relief as his hope that whatever is inside isn’t an expensive item grows.

He tears the cardboard box completely apart, guitar picks spilling all over the floor and into his lap. You heave a sigh of Eddie’s name but can’t help the smile from growing as he rushes to the floor to pick them all up. His movement scattering the pile on his lap to the floor as he gets on all fours in front of you. He’s muttering apologies and looking up at you with those stupid brown puppy dog eyes.

Once he’s scooped them into a pile, he makes a comment about having needed more picks considering all of his are lost to the filthy, sticky floors of The Hideout. He hasn’t even looked at them up close.

“Eddie, you have to actually look at them.” He looks confused before picking one from his neat little pile on the floor. He squints his eyes as he registers what has been printed onto the little black pieces of plastic.

“Holy shit! Is that my design?” He’s grinning from ear to ear. His very own guitar picks for his very own band. He didn’t even know you could do that! He’s made his own Corroded Coffin t-shirts before but those were strictly homemade, and very obviously so.

But these. These are professional. The kind of stuff a real band has.

“I figured when Corroded Coffin gets famous, you can toss these into the crowd. Like Kirk Hammett or something.”

When. You said when, not if. Eddie feels like he could burst. You have so much faith in him that his success is a sure thing.

Eddie practically body slams you back into the couch, pressing all of his weight into you. The epitome of a golden retriever who thinks he’s a lap dog. Rambling off a thousand thank you’s into your shirt his head is buried in. You stroke your hands up and down his back, soothing his energy back to it’s normal state.

Before you can say anything, he’s yanking his body away and darting down the hall to his bedroom. You hear a crash and a curse before Eddie emerges back into the living room, gift bag in hand.

He clocks the smirk before it even forms, cutting you off before you can make some slick comment.

“Just because I’m not fond of Christmas doesn’t mean I can’t indulge. So this is for you.” He holds the very worn Christmas bag out to you with both hands. It’s got Eddie written all over it. From the chicken scratch of your name to the mismatched tissue paper to the mustache and devil horns combo he drew over the painted Santa Clause.

You hold the bag in your lap, not daring to look at it let alone open it. You know Eddie has never given a Christmas gift to anyone. Ever. But here he is, giving you one. The affection you feel in your chest is liable to kill you. Paired with the bashful look on his face and his fidgeting hands, you’re not sure you’ll make it to the new year.

“You didn’t have to…” You start to say but Eddie will have none of it.

“I know I didn’t. But I want to. So open it already, you’re giving me a heart attack over here.” There’s no hiding the nervous waver in his voice. You want to tell him not to be nervous. Eddie could gift you a pile of dirt from the front yard and you’d love it. Just because it came from him.

You slide the tissue paper out of the bag so carefully that Eddie wants to jump in and rip it out himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t what lies in the bottom of the bag.

You stare at the teddy bear for a moment, afraid to touch it. Swallowing a breath, you pull the bear from the bag and nearly pass out onto the floor.

The teddy bear is the exact shade of Eddie’s brown hair, the fur even holding a slight curl to match. He’s wearing a tiny version of Eddie’s signature Hellfire Club t-shirt and tiny black jeans that Eddie clearly ripped himself. He even fastened a chain to the pocket that clinks when it moves. Even more impressive is the denim vest Eddie had clearly sewn himself, on top of a leather jacket that was probably made for a baby doll.

Flipping the teddy over, your eyes feel swollen with tears as you see that Eddie hand painted an exact replica of his Dio patch onto the vest. You examine every inch of this bear, marveling in every detail Eddie put into making it look just like him. Even cutting the leather sleeves to add those little chains he crafted to fix the zipper of his life sized jacket.

What really sends you into a state of shock, is the messy stitching on the foot. In red thread, it reads ‘your teddy’.

Eddie is internally panicking at your frozen figure sat on the couch. It’s too quiet. So he fills it with his shaking voice.

“I know it’s silly but I just thought it would be kinda cool to make a mini me for you. Cause you said you wanted to carry me around with you and, like, now you totally can. Or not, if it’s too childish. It’s not the prettiest-“

“I love you.”

Eddie freezes. You’re still as a statue. You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. Your mind just screaming ‘iloveyouiloveyou’ on a loop until it breached your lips. Finally taking your gaze away from the bear to look up at Eddie.

He looks shell shocked. His face is void of color and his adams apple bobs as he swallows harshly. He’s not sure how to respond to the suddenness of your confession. His mind is begging him to say something. To tell you he loves you too. To kiss you. But for the first time in Eddie Munson’s life, he’s lost for words.

“I-I’m in love with you, Eddie. Have been for a while now but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” you set the bear gently on the couch next to you as you rise to your feet, standing almost toe to toe with the boy. “You don’t have to say it back. I’ll always be your friend and I don’t want you to feel obligated-“

Eddie slams his mouth into yours. It’s not pretty or gentle like the movies. It’s overeager, desperate and messy but it’s everything you both need. Your hands seek out his face as you hold him to you, moving your mouth against his. His nose is smashed so hard against your cheek he can’t breathe, yet he’s still pushing into your mouth harder.

His hands are gripping the fat of your hips so hard there’s sure to be Eddie shaped bruises tomorrow. God, you hope there are. You want to be marked with him. Leave no room for any doubt that you belong to one another. Two souls merged into one. No longer ‘you’ and ‘I’ but ‘we’ and ‘us’.

Eddie lets you pull your mouth away from his, chasing your lips in a desperate attempt to lure you back in. You hum against him as you peck one last kiss onto those swollen pink lips of his.

He’s close enough that he’s breathing your air. He can feel the huffs of your warm breath fanning over his face. Hair moving gently against the pressure of it. He soaks in it for a moment. Letting his eyes stay closed as he just feels.

Feels the warmth of your palm on his cheek, contrasting the chill of your cold fingertips against his temple. The give of your skin beneath his grip on your hips. The softness of your tummy and chest as it smushes against his. Your forehead mussing up his bangs.

He shifts his face just far enough so he can look at you but close enough that he can still feel you breathing. The way you look at him could have him melting into a puddle on the floor. So pretty, he thinks.

He moves one hand from your hip to rest on the side of your neck, brushing his thumb over your jaw. Eddie tilts his head down so he’s at your level. An equal.

“I love you.” Eddie drops the ‘too’. It feels flippant. Like he’s only saying it because you said it. Not because he truly feels it.

He can see you visibly relax, reassuring you that he does in fact, feel the same way. He chuckles a bit as the tension starts to dissipate. A lighter, giddier feeling in the air.

“Not sure how you didn’t notice. I mean, the only reason I even went to the record store was to stalk you.” You fake a gasp as if he had scandalized you, slapping the back of your hand against his chest gently.

“You’re telling me you had ulterior motives this whole time, Eddie Munson?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” You roll your eyes before leaning back in for another kiss. This one lasting longer than the short peck you gave him earlier. Just lips pressed to lips, nothing more but nothing less. You realize you never got to tell him how much you love his gift. But frankly, Eddie’s forgotten all about it.

“If it wasn’t obvious, I love my teddy. Both the mini and the life size version.” Eddie blushes, flustered at your shameless flirting mixed with a genuine appreciation for the gift he worked so hard on.

You pull Eddie back to the couch. This time not just settling your legs in his lap, but your whole body. Your knees pressed into the couch on either side of his hips. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that your ass is pressed into his thighs and if he pulled you an inch closer, he’d feel the warmth between your thighs.

He doesn’t know you’re thinking the same thing, knowing that a shift in the right direction would have his bulge pressed right into your center. But you’re also thinking about how pretty he looks and how natural it feels to be in his lap. To have his hands settled on your hips.

You file those thoughts away for later, picking up the teddy bear you abandoned earlier. You sit him in between the two of you, stroking one of his fuzzy round ears.

There’s a moment of quiet before you launch into a full college level dissertation about that damn bear. Listing every single detail you noticed and why you love it so much. Asking Eddie how he found the perfect shade bear and where he got the clothes and the paint and the tiny chains and, and, and…

Eddie wants to kiss you silly.

So he does. It starts out sudden, using the kiss as a method to shut you up before it turns soft. Pure adoration spilling from his mouth into yours and from yours to his. Tongues sliding against each other and soft breaths against cheeks. Eddie fumbles as he attempts to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, losing the suction too early, making an obnoxiously loud popping sound.

He attempts to keep your lips pressed together but your giggling is making it very hard for him. He can’t find it in him to be frustrated considering how sweet your giggles taste as they fall into his mouth.

You can barely even call it a kiss as this point. Both too busy laughing to focus on the task at hand. Eddie let’s out the tiniest snort that vibrates against your cheek and it triggers a laugh so deep in your belly that it almost feels like a cramp. Your head is tossed back, letting yourself laugh unapologetically.

It might be ugly and unattractive but Eddie has a way of making you feel comfortable like that. No fear of judgement or harsh comments.

On the contrary, Eddie thinks this is when you look most attractive. Neck straining from the weight of your head, smile so big it hurts, tears in the corners of your eyes. It’s so utterly you.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you pick your head back up to look at Eddie. Still wearing a bright smile, just softer than before.

“Merry Christmas, teddy.” You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting it linger for longer than you’d care to admit. You settle your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling your nose into his soft skin. You feel his hum tickle the tip of your nose. He rubs soothing circles into your back, closing his eyes in utter bliss.

It stays like that for a little while. Both in a state of complete relaxation before Eddie finally speaks.

“I think I might like christmas.”

thank you so much for reading!! likes are always appreciated! reblogs get smooches under the mistletoe!!!

i live for soft boy teddy. and the thought of him holding up his hair to hundreds of teddy bears to find the right shade… i’m proposing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #my writing #christmas fic #plus sized reader coded #all of my works are implied plus size reader #but i try to make my writing as inclusive as possible

[pollenallergie]

18+ only!!

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

some random best friend!Eddie headcanons bc I feel like it:

Eddie has several pairs of holiday-themed socks and he wears them year round. You can frequently catch him sporting Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer socks, regardless of the season. <3

When Eddie was like 8 or 9, he went through a phase where he only wanted spaghetti-o’s for dinner every night, so your mom started calling him “Eddie Spaghetti.” <3

Little kids love Eddie. He doesn’t know why, but they sort of gravitate toward him. That said, he certainly doesn’t mind; he thinks it’s adorable. He’s just naturally very good with kids. <3

You two have matching tattoos. His says “billy” and yours says “silly,” in reference to an inside joke from when you were little. <3

You and Eddie always manage to get sick at the same time. Always. Wayne and your mom used to take turns staying home to take care of you two when you were little, but now you two little sicklings just take care of each other. <3

After every single holiday meal, you both sneak off to your bedroom to sleep off the impending food coma in your bed. It’s a tradition you’ve had since you were ten. <3

Eddie is your grandma’s favorite grandchild, even though he’s not technically her grandchild. <3

The first time you smoked weed, you got so high that Eddie called you “space cadet” the whole night. He now calls you that every time you get high. <3

Whenever Eddie goes to the gas station to pick up a new pack of cigarettes, he’ll grab your favorite candy for you. <3

You’re insecure about your laugh (not your cute little giggle, but your genuine, unrestrained laugh), but it’s one of Eddie’s favorite things about you. <3

You and Eddie have a rule about getting each other christmas and birthday presents since you both grew up with little money. The rule is that you can only make things for each other. For the most part, you both adhere to this rule completely. However, you’ve both been known to break it every once and a while in favor of getting something extra special for each other. For example, you had splurged on Metallica tickets for Eddie’s 18th birthday. Likewise, he’d spent entirely too much money on a special edition gift set of your favorite book series last christmas. <3

You and Eddie used to put on plays for your mom and Uncle Wayne when you were kids. Honestly, you’d continued to do so for far longer than either of you would like to admit. <3

Eddie’s so close with your family that he even bickers with your siblings like they’re his own. <3

Eddie takes your dog to the park at least once a week for quality “bro time,” as he likes to call it. <3

He also helped name your dog when you’d first gotten him. He’d named him Philby after the Rory Gallagher song, only to later learn that the title for that song came from the name of a British spy who’d worked as a double agent for the Soviets. oopsies. <3

Wayne takes you, Eddie, and your family camping near the Indiana Dunes every single summer, and has done so since you were ten. <3

When Eddie was a kid, he had a black cat named Samwise. Unfortunately, Samwise passed away when Eddie was thirteen. You’d both cried about it for weeks. </3

You and Eddie both hate the public pool, Eddie because he’s the town pariah, and you because people always look at you weirdly when you wear a swimsuit and it makes you feel insecure. So, in the summertime, you’ll often sneak Eddie into your dad’s backyard after he leaves for work in the morning, that way you two can spend the whole day swimming without being subjected to ridicule from the other Hawkins residents. <3

Wayne has a copy of every single one of your school pictures much like your mom has a copy of every single one of Eddie’s. <3

Eddie learned how to make pot brownies after you’d expressed an interest in trying them. <3

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s written multiple songs for you. <3

He gets your mom a mother’s day present every year. He also gets Wayne a father’s day present every year. <3

Your mom packed lunches for the both of you until she finally cut you off freshman year, hoping to urge you both to become more independent. <3

Your dad paid for you to go to summer camp in the summer between sixth and seventh grade, and, while you were gone, you’d made a total of six sets of matching friendship bracelets for you and Eddie. Only one of them survived to adulthood, and he still wears it to this day. <3

For his birthday one year, you’d made him a scrapbook filled with pictures of the both of you. Unbeknownst to you, he’d continued to add pictures to it until it was completely full. <3

Eddie cries every single time he watches Bambi. <3

Eddie also cries when he watches Old Yeller. <3

Eddie took you to see The Color Purple when it was released in theaters. He cried during that movie as well. <3

Eddie won a story-writing contest in the sixth grade and, again, in the seventh grade. <3

Eddie only lies about the most inconsequential and random shit. Like he’ll tell some extremely thorough, elaborate lie about the etymology of a word just for shits and giggles. He’s a very convincing liar too, which makes it even funnier when you’re in on the joke. <3

Eddie doesn’t believe that he’s a good writer, just that he’s a good bullshitter. You assure him that he’s far too good at both of those things. <3

Eddie prefers to start his Sunday mornings with a good, ole fashioned wake n bake followed by an unreasonable amount of chocolate chip pancakes. <3

In the wintertime, he walks around the trailer cocooned in the fuzzy blanket that your mom got him for christmas one year. It’s adorable. <3

Eddie has surprisingly steady hands which you frequently take advantage of by asking him to paint your nails. <3

He hugs you very frequently because he just likes hugging you, okay? Don’t make it weird! (his words, not mine). And, believe me, this man gives the best hugs. <3

Eddie talks in his sleep, but his words are usually so slurred and garbled that you can’t understand them. <3

Eddie and Wayne also collect beer coozies, in addition to their collection of hats and mugs. Seriously, they have an inordinate amount of beer coozies. And they just whip them out, unprompted, all the time. Are you drinking a soda? Well, hey, they’ve got a coozie for ya! Hell, they’ll even use them on glasses of water. <3

Wayne’s a big NASCAR fan and he even took you and Eddie to the Indy 500 once. You were both bored out of your minds the entire time, but grateful nonetheless. <3

You guys even stayed in the train-car hotel for that trip which, as eight-year-olds, you both found insanely cool. <3

Wayne frequently goes to your mom for parenting advice. <3

Wayne also played matchmaker for your mom and her boyfriend, Hank, one of his coworkers from the plant. They’ve been together for two years now. <3

She’d repaid the favor by setting him up with the receptionist from her office, Marie. They’ve been together for almost a year now. <3

Wayne and your mom have been trying to play matchmaker between you and Eddie for years now, but you’re both too damn oblivious. <3

Eddie tried to teach you how to ride a bike when you were eleven, but you fell once and never attempted again. So, before he’d gotten his license, he’d either let you stand on the back of his bike and hold onto him or he’d let you sit on the handlebars. <3

Eddie wants to get a motorcycle one day just because he thinks you’d look hot perched on the back of one. <3

Eddie’s first car, before the van, was your mom’s old station wagon. <3

You and Eddie both talk a lot, so you have a bad habit of interrupting each other, but, it’s hard to get mad about that given how much you both like listening to each other talk. <3

You two used to argue a lot as kids, mostly because you’re both stubborn, but now you hardly ever butt heads. You’re both still incredibly stubborn, but are now more willing to compromise, at least with each other. <3

You’ve never missed one of Corroded Coffin’s shows. <3

Eddie loves naps, can’t get enough of ‘em. <3

Eddie’s superpower is his ability to sleep anywhere. Once, when there was a tornado during school, he’d fallen asleep on the tile floor of the hallway of Hawkin’s Middle while in that protective, crouched position that you’d all been forced to sit in. It was honestly impressive. <3

You have asthma, so Eddie’s developed a habit of keeping one of your spare rescue inhalers on him at all times. The one he’s got for you is technically expired, but he figures it’s better than nothing. <3

Eddie loves it when you play with his hair. He even lets you brush it for him. <3

Eddie guilt trips you into giving him back rubs by faking a sore back and complaining about how awful his mattress is. Truthfully, Eddie quite likes his bed, it’s much better than the one he’d slept in when he lived with his dad, but he’s willing to throw ole reliable under the bus if it means getting a free back rub. He’s been using that trick since he was nine. Of course, his intentions are purely wholesome in nature; he really just loves your back rubs. <3

He’ll frequently return the favor by giving you shoulder and neck rubs because he knows that you carry a lot of tension there. <3

Eddie has a framed picture of you two together on his dresser. <3

#jitterbug and grub #eddie munson #best friend au #best friend!eddie munson #best friend!eddie #implied plus size!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hc #eddie munson thoughts #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things hc #stranger things au #stranger things fluff #stranger things vol 4 #stranger things 4 #pol’s greatest hits

[princessphilly]

Do not look, do not look, do not look, you chanted to yourself as you did leg curls.

But you looked and as you looked up, you saw him smirking at you before palming the front of his sweats. “Whenever you’re ready for it, sweetheart.”

#drabbles #implied smut #blurbs #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader

[lynsburner]

She is finished!

And by she, I mean this little story that now has its first chapter up!

Let me introduce you to Hell is a Talking Type.

Summary: Desperate for a fresh start, you pack your life up for a new job across the Atlantic, easily settling into your new surroundings by making friends at your co-worker’s Friday night get-togethers. Well, it was easy, until you met Andrew. Despite being known for bringing the party down, you can’t help striking up a conversation with him when you catch him alone, smoking with a sullen expression, in an attempt to turn that frown upside down. You’ll be friends in no time! Best friends, even! 

What to expect? Rom-com levels of silliness! Funny banter for days! And... an Andrew who's kind of a dick? You'll just have to read to see!

Also, all of it has been written! So expect a new chapter every few days or so! There are 9 for the main story, plus a lil epilogue, so about 10 in total!

I hope you all enjoy it! As always, my ask box is open and feedback is always welcome!

Oh and, before I forget, thank you to @icanttakethemonmyown for reading this both in the order I wrote this (whether it was screenshots in DMs or silly comments in a google doc) to re-reading the whole thing in order to make sure it all made sense. You are an angel <3 Also the #1 Paul stan (this will make sense once you read it).

#lyn needs to stop talking #my writings #hell is a talking type #hozier fanfic #hozier fic #not explicitly plus size reader but it's me so it is implied #this one is like a year or so in the making #so many notes in my phone built together over lunch breaks #anyway who is joining anje in the paul fan club

[terry-perry]

Hey this is my best friend you can writing Steven grant x reader that the reader has insecurities for his body and Steven tells her how wonderful it is?

Notes of smut, but nothing graphic

You pulled off the control top with a sigh. When it was off completely, you looked at yourself in the mirror once more. Looking at yourself from the side, you couldn't help but scowl at the way your tummy drooped slightly. You ran your hands across the marks on the sides of your stomach and thighs.

Steven, meanwhile, watched you do this from the bed. He looked at you with a different set of eyes. Ones full of strong admiration and desire. He wished you could see what he saw. A wonderful body he couldn't stop touching whenever it was pressed up against him. He's never grown bored of your lovemaking, not when there was always parts of you he could get his hands on and give a sensual squeeze to.

You were like his personal goddess. It's why he found it so baffling that you could look at yourself with so much disappointment.

"Darling,"

You turned your attention to him, knowing the tone he was using. You still found it hard to believe that you found someone like him.

"Don't do this to yourself," he continued, getting up so he could walk over and wrap his arms around you. "Can't you see how gorgeous you are?"

As he kept his arms around you, he started to keep his hands busy by rubbing them along your sides. He kept looking at you through your reflections, no doubt what you were seeing contrasting. He needed to say more to you, talk to you about the way your curves drove him crazy. But as usual, he was at a loss as his fingers dug into your soft flesh. Only able to say one thing before deciding to give into his carnal urges.

"You're perfect,"

#steven grant x you #plus-sized!reader #request #marvel cinematic universe #steven grant x reader #moon knight #marvel #steven grant x y/n #chubby!reader #drabble #oneshot #steven grant fanfiction #implied smut #steven grant #x reader #mcu #moon knight series #imagine #mcu fanfiction #mcu au

[profound-bouquetbird]

Hi I love your writing can you do hunter or edric x plus size female reader fluff and some jealousy plz

Ehllo there anon! I am here to inform you that you actually send this request while my requests were closed

I am still going to write this request but please for any people that want to leave any requests please check my bio to see if my requests are open or closed :)

I made these in to headcanons since you didn't really explain the request, but i didn't want to delete your request :)

The reader is implied to be female but it never mentions the exact gender of the reader, except in Eric's part ma'am is mentioned

Hunter would absolutely adore you. I mean he would adore you either way wether you are or aren't plus sized

The one thing he would absolutely do even if you're not in a relationship is hug you

Constantly when your washing the dishes, or just watching TV hunter would sneak up behind you and hug you

When the two of you are cuddling in bed he would 100% have his head in the crook of your neck or he would hug the ever lasting shit out of you

When it comes to people just being rude and making comments about your weight, he wouldn't necessarily jump them... He would just guilt trip them (if that makes any sense)

But when it does go to the point where he wants to rip their head of he will not hesitate... Well he will hesitate on the riping their head of part but trust me, he will absolutely start beating up anyone for you

When it comes to jealousy he would probably be the touchy and denying type

To translate that: if he feals jealous he would hold your hand, have his arm wrapped around you, every single possible thing as long as the person that made him jealous in the first place sees him giving you attention. And if you were to point that out and ask if he was jealous he would deny it completely

Overall 10/10 would recommend

Now... When it comes to edric. He is just so freaking mesmerized by you!

He will always give you compliments, would probably try and make you something, like a teddy bear or just make a pot out if clay

But he will ultimately give up and just show you silly little illusion tricks to make you laugh

He will probably take any chance to cuddle with you. Oh, you're feeling a little sad? Nothing a lot of love and affection can't fix

If you're feeling sad about someone making a comment about your weight, expect him to talk shit about the person that made that comment (even if he doesn't know them) and will give you tons of kisses, hugs and everything he can to make you feel better

Now, when it comes to jealousy he will 100% not be embarrassed to do anyting

That's right, no little hints towards the person. He would just turn to you and be like: I am very much jealous ma'am

You would laugh lightly and give him kisses or something to make him feel better, while he'll just be staring at the person who made him jealous with a cheeky grin

Now, on how that person acts it actually dependson what the situation is

If the person was trying to flirt with you they would be pissed. But if the person was just talking with you they would probably feel a little awkward but would laugh at Eric's childish behavior

Either way 1836/10 would definitely recommend

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #toh hunter x reader #toh hcs #toh x reader #toh edric #toh edric blight #toh edric x reader #toh ed x reader #plus sized reader #can be read as gender neutral #implied fem reader

[hwajin]

how are you gonna make a fic with a plus size reader then add a bulge kink in the warnings… like that doesn’t make sense at all 🤨

it's a monster fic... mc is fucking someone with a MONSTER cock 😝

#and it's only implied plus size reader #like it's not explicitely a chubby girl but you can read it with that in mind 👍🏻

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Happy Times

Mando x plus size reader

I’m only going to say this, Pedro Pascal’s happy trail

Warnings: HORNY THOTS, implied smut, happy trail 🫠, little bit of a size kink I’m really not sorry, degradation

WC: 708

Minors DNI

You were fully hypnotised by the sight in front of you. Mando was partially out of his armour, his chest and thigh plates had been stripped away and were placed on his bunk. It was far too hot on this godforsaken planet for any additional layers and he felt safe enough to remove them.

He was reaching up to a panel above his head, cursing as he could quite reach whatever he was looking for. But you didn’t bother to get up and help, nope, you were perched on a small step stool, Grogu passed out next to you and Mando’s tools on your other side.

Your jaw was fully hanging open, your eyes wide, and there might have been a tiny bit of drool by the corner of your mouth. Why were you like this you may wonder? Well that’s because Mando’s shirt was ever so slightly too short on him so every time he reached up above his head, his shirt would ride up and expose a small sliver of skin just above the hem of his pants.

But even more than that, his pants were slightly too big for him so the top sagged, letting you see the glorious thatch of dark hair at the base of his pelvis. And if your eyes dropped just a little lower, you swore you could see-

“Hand me the wrench please.” His helmet was tilted down towards you and you froze. Your entire body came to light with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the bounty hunter.

“Um yeah here.” You handed him the tool and shamefully dropped your eyes to the floor, wanting to simply melt into the metal to escape his knowing gaze. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time you had been staring at the Mandalorian, in fact, you stared at him every chance you could get. Sure, he was huge, big enough to scare people away by just standing in a slightly menacing way, but he was also protective and kind. Plus his voice was sexy as hell. But, this was the first time you had been caught and it made you feel ashamed.

You gasped as a warm finger curled under your soft chin, forcing you to look up. When had he taken off his gloves? “You handed me a screwdriver. You seem distracted, mesh’la, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” A shiver of desire rolled down your spine as he towered over you, his massive body blocking the light from the setting sun.

Suddenly, there were no thoughts left in your brain besides him. You could almost feel his smirk from behind the shiny metal of his helm. “I wonder what has you so preoccupied? What could possibly be making you so dumb that you gave me a screwdriver and not a wrench, like I asked for?” His tone was so condescending, it made you feel even smaller but there was no true malice in it.

His hand slipped from your chin when you didn’t answer him, instead he cupped your jaw with his massive paw, squeezing just tightly enough to make you gasp. “When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“Y-yes Mando.” You stammered out, your thighs squeezing together at the pure dominance and power he radiated. He rewarded you with a gentle stroke of his thumb along your jawline.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred as he bent down so his face was level with yours, only a few inches of perfectly buffed metal between you. “Now are you going to tell me what was so distracting or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Hundreds of images flashed behind your eyes, each one more smutty than the last as you imagined what exactly he could do to you to get you to talk. Wetness pooled between your shapely legs, soaking through the flimsy panties you wore. “I think you want it the hard way but I need to hear you say it. Beg for it.”

You swallowed thickly, the words getting caught in your throat. Another squeeze freed them. “Please Mando, I want you so badly.” A modulated frown came through the speakers of his helmet before he spoke again.

“Good girl.”

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[nivisdreaming]

Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included

Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)

Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.

It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.

What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.

He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.

You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”

You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.

“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.

You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.

“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”

You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.

Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.

He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.

He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.

What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”

#kinktober 2023 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #dom!miguel o'hara #sub!reader

[moonstruckme]

Idk if this is even enough for a request but I would love to see poly marauders w a reader who takes extremely hot showers, like maybe she’s already in the shower when the boys come home and they go to join her but start squealing and they jump back out, pouting at her about “it’s too hot! You’re boiling, you’re going to pass out in there” etc. I just think it’s funny and I love a good hot shower. (Bonus pts for plus size reader!! Not sure how that would be important but I’d love it if it was!)

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! I couldn't really find a way to make it plus!size reader without describing her body a lot but that felt sort of weird and I ended up cutting most of it, so unfortunately it's only plus!size reader if you squint a bit

cw: non-sexual (okay, some sexual, but it's only lightly implied) nudity

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 628 words

Steam whooshes out of the bathroom when James opens the door. The mirror is completely fogged up and he’s immediately warm, but that’s alright, because he’s shrugging off his shirt anyway. 

“Hi, angel,” he calls over the spray.

“Jamie?” Your voice echoes off the tile a second before your head pokes out past the curtain. “When did you get home?”

“Just now, but Sirius and Rem are already in the kitchen making dinner.” Well, Remus is making dinner. Sirius is providing commentary. “Can I join you in there?” 

Your smile comes quick and devious, water dripping from your chin. “Sure you can.” 

James hurries out of his pants and socks, pulling aside the curtain. “Alright, scoot ov—ah!” He hardly gets one leg under the spray before he’s jumping back. “Shit that’s hot! What the hell, lovie? Are you trying to cauterize yourself?” 

You laugh like he’s overreacting, which James knows for certain he is not. Steams pours out so thickly from behind the curtain it’s a wonder there’s any water left to wash yourself with that hasn’t instantly evaporated. “What’s wrong with a hot shower?” you ask. 

James doesn’t know how to answer that. “Hot” doesn’t even begin to describe the temperatures you’re subjecting yourself to. He hears footsteps in the hall, and a second later Sirius is opening the door, Remus behind him. 

“Did someone yell?” 

“Yeah, me,” James says, accusatory, “when I nearly had the skin scorched clean off my leg.” 

Sirius raises a single brow. “That scream was awful girlish, Prongs. You sure it was you?” 

“Prick,” James laughs. “Go on, feel the water. It’s like she’s punishing herself in there!”

Remus steps past Sirius, sticking his hand under the showerhead. His eyebrows raise, and he draws it back (albeit with much more dignity than James had withdrawn, but he’d been caught by surprise). “That really is quite warm, dove. I can barely hold my hand under there, how’re you doing it with your whole body?” 

You shrug, turning towards them, and it occurs to James that he and you are both naked while your other two boyfriends are fully clothed. There was a time where you would’ve tried to hide yourself from them in this state, and he’s hit with a rush of gratitude that that time has passed. Still, he doesn’t quite like the look of you like this, steam rising off your body as water that may as well be magma slides over your curves. James can’t believe you when you say that doesn’t hurt. 

“It’s nice,” you say, like some kind of psychopath. “I don’t know, I like it.”

“Sweetheart, you could pass out from heat like this,” Remus frets.

“Is it really that bad?” Sirius is skeptical, until Remus presses the palm that he’d held in the water to his face. His eyes widen. “Fuck, how can you stand that, babe?” 

“You guys are wimps,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “It’s cold outside, and I fancied a hot shower. Sue me.”

“But this is more than hot,” Remus says. James nods ardently. “You’re really telling me you don’t even feel lightheaded?” 

“I don’t,” you promise, but James isn’t having it. He pulls the curtain aside, gripping the fat of your hip (“Fuck, Jamie, you’re freezing!”) to reach around you and adjust the water temperature. 

“There,” he says. “Let it cool down a bit, and you won’t melt your brain, plus I’ll be able to get in with you. Okay?” 

Remus nods satisfiedly, hurrying back towards the kitchen to attend to whatever he’s likely left on the stove, but you pout. “It’s going to be cold,” you complain. 

“I’ll be in there with you,” James reminds you, grinning when you brighten. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too cold, lovie.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[princessphilly]

I know you wanted smutty but I’ve been feeling really blah lately so if you could hit me with some humor fluff maybe slight smut? With rbf reader who is blunt saying 10) “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.” To hangman while playing pool just completely shocking him

Hope you’re also feeling better!🥺

I will try. Reader’s call sign is Possum

“So Possum, how the hell did you end up with someone like Hangman?”

You laughed at Phoenix’s question. You got your callsign for you ability to blend in with the background while Hangman was loud and obnoxious, soaking up all of the attention. “I don’t know, it just happened.”

“It just happened,” Halo asked, “I mean, Bagman is so annoying that I don’t even think he knows where to find the clit.”

The guys heard that comment and started laughing. Hangman took a shot, hitting the 4 and the 5 into pockets before saying, “Possum leaves my bed very satisfied.”

“True, Hangman is good, very good,” you drawled, the liquor making your Louisiana drawl thicker, “But at the same time, there are some things that could get improved.”

Hangman stood up, handing his pool stick to Coyote. Cheeks reddening a bit, he started, “Darlin, you’ve never had any complaints-“

Emboldened by the rum in your veins, you blurted out, “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”

Green eyes met yours and a strong hand shot out, grabbing your neck and pinning you to the wall. “Like that, sugar?”

Your cunt flooded your panties with wetness at the action and you licked you lips, “Just like that, daddy.”

#drabbles #implied smut #hangman x black! reader #hangman x black reader #hangman x plus sized reader #hangman x plus size y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x plus size reader #Jake seresin x plus size y/n #top gun maverick blurbs #top gun smut #top gun prompts weekend #hangman top gun

[rebelfell]

writing about going to the gym instead of actually going still counts…right? 2k 18+, MDNI

eddie munson x fem!reader (implied plus-size)

The gym at Eddie’s new apartment complex wasn’t so bad. 

It had just undergone a big renovation by the time he moved in, so it still smelled faintly of paint and some of the machines had that protective plastic film over the monitors. It was on the small side, but had enough room for a row of treadmills and ellipticals that faced a big window, looking out on the grassy knoll of the courtyard behind the leasing office. 

Eddie never went on them, though. He was mostly there for the weights, following the regime Steve had put him on a couple months prior. It wasn’t as rigorous as the one his friend followed, but it was demanding enough that Eddie needed an occasional break, elbows resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath and pushed sweaty tendrils of hair from his face.

His shirt was old and ratty with the cutoff sleeves and drooping armholes stretched far beyond their natural elasticity. Truthfully, it did make him look a little douchey. But he also kind of liked the way it showed off his arms, the edges of the tattoos on his ribcage, the tops of his obliques.  

Especially now that he actually has obliques.

He’s not yet worked his way up to the full-blown gym-bro attire Steve wears when he’s posting his little thirst traps all over Instagram. The videos are the worst—him planking shirtless or flexing his biceps as he curls a weight or swinging weird giant ropes with his arms.

Eddie’s only filmed himself lifting a few times now. Partly because Steve keeps demanding he send him videos so he can “check his form” but also because…he just looks good, okay? 

He never dreamed he’d be the type. Aside from a (very) brief skateboarding phase, his main source of exercise when he was growing up was running from local law enforcement. 

Now here he was lifting three days a week, considering adding a fourth.

He was still slacking on cardio—the smoker’s lung capacity really hindered him there. But Steve had suggested they try boxing, and a free pass to hit Harrington certainly held some appeal…

Eddie found he actually kind of liked the gym now. It was quiet and peaceful. It gave him an hour or so to turn his brain off and focus on nothing but counting sets or reps. He felt good when he walked back to his place a little sweaty and sore, feeling like he’d done something.

And he liked it especially when you showed up.

He’d seen you a few times around already, mostly walking with your dog. Or dogs, rather. By his count there were a couple different ones. 

There was a Corgi who would stomp his stubby little legs like he was mad at the concrete; and a border collie you liked to take to the dog park and toss a frisbee for him to catch; and an elderly chihuahua he often saw you lift into your arms and carry for the end of his walk when he grew tired and looked up at you sadly with those big, pleading eyes. You were powerless.

Spotting you out and about whenever Eddie was going to get his mail, or taking a walk to stretch his legs after sitting at his computer too long, catching a glimpse of you from his balcony when he sat out there in the morning or evening, had started to become the highlight of his day.

He still had yet to, you know, talk to you.

If he ever had the fortune of walking past while you were out, his words immediately failed. And he couldn’t even count now the number of times he’d walked past the dog park while you were there and wished desperately he had a dog just so he had an excuse to go in and talk to you.

He wondered, regretfully, if you could tell he was a cat guy just seeing the smattering of light hairs all his black clothes attracted like a magnet.

But now you were here. Physically present in the same room as him. Close enough for him to reach out and wrap his hands around you. Looking so fucking delectable in your workout clothes.

Your shape was mostly concealed by a baggy hoodie that just barely covered the roundness of your ass and skimmed the tops of your thick thighs—both of which were only accentuated by the tightness of your black Lycra shorts.

He might have dredged up the nerve to finally say something—even a meekly muttered “hi” would have been an improvement on the nothing he’d been slinging. But your headphones were resting snugly over your ears and he generally took that as a firm sign not to bother people.

They were nice ones, he noted. Not a pair of the obscenely expensive Apple ones Steve liked to wax poetically about, but you’d probably sunk a decent amount into them for the sound quality.

 Or maybe they were a gift from your boyfriend, Eddie thought bitterly.

You smiled at him as you passed, giving a little wave that almost made him drop the weight in his hand. Honestly, a broken toe would have been worth it. He tries not to ogle you, honest he does. But he can see you in the mirror as you step up onto the treadmill directly behind him, despite every single one of them being free. All he has to do is tip his head slightly to the side and his view is pristine. He won’t stare, though.

He won’t, he won’t, he won’t.

At least not anymore…

He did his best to concentrate on his workout as you got yourself situated. Absently, he wondered if you were here because you thought you needed to be, and he really hoped that wasn’t the case. Because from where he was sitting, there wasn’t a goddamn thing on your body that needed any improvement.

You don’t seem to be taking it too seriously, though. Starting out at a slow walk, flicking through your phone to choose your music as you amble along. Eventually you must settle on something and set it down before you start to hike up the incline on your machine. 

He figures out pretty quickly you're doing one of those “strut” workouts he’s seen floating around, where you increase your speed with the switch of each song.

Except you’re doing more than strutting—you’re performing.

It’s subtle at first. You start out simply walking at a steady pace, but then he catches a couple motions of your arms, a few flips of your head that send your hair flying. In the reflection of your face on the window he can see you’re lip syncing along to the song, your closed fist becoming a microphone for what looks like a long belt.

He bites back his own smile as he watches you, his eyes drawn to your shape in the mirror over and over. It makes him forget what rep he’s on every time, his workout little more than a charade at this point.

As your pace increases, your breathing gets harder and sweat starts to slicken your brow. You pause just long enough to pull off your sweatshirt and drape it over the guard rail. It drags up the bottom of your shirt, revealing a flash of your bare back that sends Eddie reeling. 

He can’t help but imagine himself flush behind you, kissing down the delicate curve of your spine, gripping desperately at the meat of your hips and ass, molding them with his hands as he thrusts with abandon and the fronts of his thighs slap wet against the backs of yours. He would beg you to let him go down on you just like this—breathing in the smell of your musk and sweat, tugging down those shorts to bury his face between your thighs until they were trembling like his did on leg day, brushing off your complaints about being too gross or dirty.

He’d show you what dirty really was. 

Eddie jolts as the dumbbell he’s holding slips from his clammy palm and he just barely moves his foot in time. It hits the ground with a dull thud, but if you notice you don’t give any indication.

Ears buzzing now, shame radiating at the back of his neck, he set the weight back on the rack and dropped to the floor, twisting into something resembling a yoga pose he saw Nancy post once. The temptation to get on the treadmill next to you is so strong, but he’s afraid it might make you too self-conscious to keep going with your little show.

Plus, he’d probably end up tripping over his own feet and face planting on the machine. Kinda tough to put the moves on a girl when you’ve got a smashed face that’s bleeding like a faucet.

Instead, he drags out his stretching, hoping he can time it right so it won’t seem too weird if he leaves the same time you do. He’s already stayed longer than he normally does, but the promise of finally getting to talk to you is too enticing.

If he was a smarter man, he might have tried thinking of something to actually say if he got the chance, but that’s a whole other issue. 

At last, the machine you’re on started to whirr as you lowered the incline to normal and slowed the speed of the belt until it stops completely. Eddie’s chest heaves as he watches, his pulse racing so fast it’s probably going to trigger the smartwatch on his wrist. You catch his eye in the mirror as you wipe down your machine with a disinfectant wipe and his head snaps forward.

Best of all, when you’re done, you tug down your headphones so they rest around your neck.

This is it, he thinks, his heart pounding harder than it ever had during a workout. Now or fucking never.

“So, uhh, how many dogs do you actually have?”

As pick-up lines go, it’s…not great. But it gets you to stop next to him on your way to the door, tilting your head and smiling as you do.

Fuck, you’re pretty.

“What was that?” you ask.

Eddie scrambled. He ran his hand across the nape of his neck, resisting the urge to smack himself in the back of his head. All of a sudden, his body is unbearably hot and he’s never been so embarrassed of his douchey shirt now that your eyes were scanning him up and down.

Wait…were you checking him out?

“I just…I’ve seen you walking them,” he chuckled. “I was wondering how many you have.”

“Oh, none,” you laughed. “It’s kind of a side gig. I walk them for some other people who live here.”

“None of them are yours then?”

“Nah,” you said, sheepishly looking down at the floor and then flicking your gaze back up to meet his, a smile curling across your lips. “I’ve got a cat, though.”

next

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson meet cute #gym!eddie #neighbors!au

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Mistakes

Jungkook knew from the first look at your eyes, that you'd be the biggest mistake he'll ever make.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Smut, car sex, protected sex, no strings attached, big dick!Jungkook, implied size kink, very mild Dom!Kook undertones, oral (m. receiving), sugar daddy!Jungkook vibes but only in a joking manner

Length: 7k words (oops)

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook doesn't really attend parties- typically.

But this time, for this occasion, he can't really pull himself out- he's got to at least show up for a moment, be there and present, before he can call it a night and go home. It's not like he hates his coworkers or employees most of all- he's just not that good at socializing, and never really was.

He's learned to be alone, and now he's too good at it.

A lot of the people in the hall, he doesn't know. That's probably because he's allowed people to bring a plus-one, so most of the people here are couples, which makes the whole situation just so much worse. "You could at least try and appear like you're having fun, you know?" Taehyung laughs, standing closer to his coworker now, a drink in hand. "It's not that bad." He tries to lighten the mood, but Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

"It's not even been an hour and I already want to go." He sighs.

"Why not leave then?" Tae wonders, sipping his non-alcoholic drink, since he's gonna have to drive home later, his wife currently conversing with other coworkers. "Oh, right, because Namjoon-"

"God don't remind me." Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head as he sips his whiskey. "I can't believe I lost that bet." He growls to himself, watching how someone seems to struggle with choosing the right food at the buffet, plate still empty even after several minutes. You look young, or maybe you're just short- he's not sure, but what he is sure about is that you do not work for him or his company- at least not in the same building. He would've noticed you, just like he does right now.

"I think she's Yoongi's plus-one? Or at least he drove here with her together.." Taehyung mumbles, having spotted his friend watching you.

"She looks young." Jungkook mumbles. "And I thought Yoongi was seeing the secretary we hired a few months ago?" He wonders, finally letting his eyes leave you alone, form-fitting dress very complimenting to your body, not too revealing, but still somewhat teasing.

Taunting him, almost.

"Oh, he does! Namjoon caught them making out in Yoongi's office last week." Taehyung laughs. "She's probably just a friend." He shrugs.

A friend, huh?

"Maybe something for you though?" Taehyung jokes. "I mean, I think I saw her drinking earlier, so she's at least of legal age." He laughs, making Jungkook cringe at him. He doesn't really find this whole joke funny- not at all, but Taehyung is right when it comes to Jungkook having a.. severe lack of company these past few years. Only occasionally does he have some sex without any strings attached- never brings anybody home however, refuses to cling to someone.

He's divorced anyways. Most women don't really find that very appealing.

Maybe he can have some simple company this time as well, nothing serious at all- it's been a while, after all, and everyone's an adult here, no matter the age difference. As long as he communicates it properly, there's no reason not to at least converse with you.

So he does indeed approach you, finding you still at the buffet, barely anything on your plate at all.

"Too much to choose from?" He wonders next to you, and he realizes the huge mistake he's made when approaching you the second you lift your head to look at him.

The lights reflect in your eyes like mirrors, minimal makeup perfectly enhancing your features, lips shiny with the most sinful shade of lipgloss this world probably has to offer. He's a goner, right away, lost in the sight of you, as if he's been thrown into the deep end of a pool so cold that it freezes his muscles, making him sink down to the bottom like a stone.

"Oh, no.." You answer, looking back at all the foods. "I have a shellfish allergy, so I'm not sure what I can eat.." You mumble, one hand having reached up to play with the sparkling pink gemstone hanging around your neck.

His mouth feels dry for a second, before he catches himself.

"Here." He mentions, pointing at some small numbers near the names of the foods on the small cards. "Those small numbers, the three right there is for shellfish." He offers, pointing towards a different card close by where the numbers are explained.

"Oh! Thank you so much, I hate contact lenses!" You laugh to yourself. "I usually wear glasses, but I wanted to look pretty.." You giggle, putting some food onto your plate now.

"I'm sure nothing can ruin a face like that." He flirts without truly thinking about it- making you visibly blush, trying to contain a smile.

"I appreciate the compliment…?" You wonder, and Jungkook knows, he's probably about to make another, grave mistake.

"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." He introduces himself, and you tell him your name in return, smiling oh-so devastatingly beautiful.

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His plan was absolutely not to explore what might be beneath that pretty dress of yours- and it seems like that might stay that way despite his length inside you.

You're moving your hips in ways that makes him dizzy, mind clouded with lust as you bounce up and down, hands on your back the only thing helping you avoid accidentally hitting the steering wheel. He's pushed the seat back as far as it goes, but you can never be too sure- he wouldn't want you to honk and draw attention to the surely shaking vehicle in the darkened parking lot.

The condom had been pure luck- he's not a fan of pulling out, so if it hadn't been there in the glove box of his car, he probably would've had to awkwardly call it quits before anything really happened at all. It's not like you both instantly were at each other's throats the moment you left the gathering- he simply offered to drive you home instead of Yoongi, who'd wanted to stay a little longer, while you complained about feeling tired. And in his car, you'd talked- casually so, something clicking, as he's now got you on his lap, bouncing on his dick like he's not experienced in quite some time now.

He feels a bit bad. Despite making sure that you know this is nothing but a casual fuck, it still feels a little odd to him. He doesn't like things like these- it feels like he's using you, and he's not a fan of such situations.

Though he can't deny that you feel absolutely divine.

The rain is heavy outside, pushing against the car's windows from all sides, drowning out the otherwise rather obscene sounds coming from between your bodies. Your hands are on his shoulders, fingers gripping his muscles beneath the fabric of his formal button-up. He refuses to kiss you, can't find it in him to do it, and you accept it, instead treating it as detached as you can, simply chasing your high as you fuck yourself on his twitching length.

He feels good. Thick, able to reach far inside you, but not enough to hurt.

The way he holds you is nice too- not too strong of a grip, only enough to guide you, keep you moving, keep you going. He's not big on dirty talk, isn't over the top with anything, and it almost feels like he's treating you like a woman, and not some chick he's met at a party. There's a certain sense of respect he's offering you that gives you confidence, makes you feel powerful for once even though he's clearly setting the pace.

This is something you don't usually get to have. Someone taking you seriously.

"You close?" He asks out of breath, avoiding your eyes, rather looking at your lips, though never moving into action. A limit he's set, and a limit he follows, he's clearly a man that doesn't wildly change his mind on the fly. Though, considering who he is, and where he is in life, he probably has had enough time to be untamed and wild already. You faintly wonder if he's ever been in a long-term relationship. Yoongi hasn't really talked about him much.

Neither have you asked. You've seen him, once or twice- but a man like that is out of range for you.

You nod when he grips your behind, reminding you quietly of his question, hips stuttering as he takes over, helping you move to chase his own orgasm right after yours. You're a bit overly sensitive, but you push through it just to see him clench his jaw, eyes closing as he groans out in relief, cum spurting into the condom inside you.

It's suddenly over, and not even your evening breaths can mask the slight awkwardness that's filling the car.

One of his hands keeps you close, though you have to lean against him a bit as to not move your hips too much as he reaches for something from the glovebox, plastic wrap of the small pack of tissues making a distinctive sound. "You okay?" He asks you, and you nod, now having switched places apparently as you avoid his face entirely.

You rather move a bit weirdly to accept the tissue offered, lifting your hips to awkwardly wipe yourself down, before pulling up your underwear and climbing back into the passenger seat, where you clean the inside of your thighs while he discards the condom from his length with a slight hiss of sensitivity.

You never really know what to say. You don't actually do this often- this is only the second time you've ever hooked up with anyone like this, and it's just as weird as the first time.

"Thank you, by the way." He offers, taking the challenge away from you as he puts the tied up condom in the tissue to discard it at home later. "Let me drive a bit closer to the building, just so you don't get too wet." He says, pulling his seat back into proper position before he starts the car.

Such a gentleman- You're a little disappointed. But only mildly so. Will you even stay in his mind?

Probably not.

You're way too young for a man like him, who most likely wants a proper woman in his life instead of a.. instead of you. You're not even sure where you are at in life- neither a woman nor a girl, somewhere in between, floating, unsure, neither and both. You know however for a fact that you'll remember him- probably for quite a while, before the memory will fade into nothing but a glimpse.

"There we go." Jungkook says, stopping the car very much in front of your apartment building, sideways so that you can run right into the main hall. "Please remember to text Yoongi, okay?" He reminds you. "He might be worried otherwise." He smiles kindly, and you nod, a bit forced, grabbing your light coat and your handbag. "And.. I enjoyed it. Very much so." He makes sure to tell you, making you nod a bit shy.

"I.. uhm, I'm glad." You nod, awkwardly, causing him to chuckle.

"Now go hurry inside before the rain starts again." He urges, making you nod dumbly once more before you open the car door, running inside the apartment building after closing the door.

And he drives off, back home, where nothing waits for him but the humming fridge and a cold, empty bed.

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Daehyun can be a little spoiled, but other than that, he's a well behaved kid for his age.

He loves staying at your place, though his questions on when you'll be getting another dog after your first passed away a year ago are sometimes a bit stinging to your heart. He's a child, obviously- he doesn't understand the hurt that can settle in your soul after losing such an important piece of your life, so you can't blame him for moving on a lot quicker than you.

He's too young to understand that yet.

"Uncle Yoongi has a cat now!" Daehyun tells you as he builds the lego set with you, his small hands having some difficulty here and there, but he's a quick learner, and a good improviser. "But he said I can't play with her, because she's a girl-cat, and girl-cats don't like playing." He explains, pouting a bit as he uses all his strength to pull two pieces apart again.

"Well, I think she's just be a little nervous still." You reassure the boy. "You know, she just moved into a new home. Things might be a little scary to her." You explain, and Daehyun nods.

"I only pet her a bit." Daehyun tells you. "Appa said we're gonna get a dog soon though!" He says with excitement, making you smile.

"That's nice." You agree, helping him pull some bricks apart. You like having the little boy over at your place- it makes you feel both like a grown person, and also like a child at the same time. Daehyun doesn't judge your vast collections of stuffed animals and lego sets- he only sees you as the nice aunt, a big sister, a friend of his dad where he stays over at often whenever work gets in the way and takes away most of Taehyung's attention. Just like this weekend- Taehyung having needed someone to look after the boy, Dae's mother constantly equally without any time. You're not sure how long that marriage is gonna last with her refusing to step back at least a little to properly take care of her own child, and with Taehyung's growing frustration over the situation.

You hope the poor boy won't get caught up in the crossfire. That would just be awful.

Hours later, all the toys put away, your doorbell rings, giving you the clue that someone must be now here to pick the young boy up. Probably either Jimin or Yoongi- but when you open the door, it's neither of them, but a casually dressed Jungkook, hands in his slacks as your gaze gets caught on the slightly unbuttered shirt that's tucked into the pants, LY-labeled belt buckle accentuating his rather slim waist.

What the fuck.

"Oh- uh, come inside." You offer, stepping aside to let him in, Daehyun quickly running up to Jungkook, who mirrors the excitement of the young boy as he squats down to hug him. You let them both have their moment, instead walking around to collect all of Dae's things, checking twice to make sure he didn't forget anything, as you text Taehyung to make sure the man is really supposed to take the boy with him.

He is, which makes you a bit upset. Taehyung could've told you before.

When you walk back inside the living room area, Dae is currently busy showing Jungkook a stuffed animal- a gift from Jimin a year ago, modeled after your dog as a keepsake. "He was suuuper big, and really nice!" Dae beams up at the man. "He always ate ice cubes, but-" the small boy inspects the stuffed animal a little, lips pouting. "-Noona said he was really old, so he went to sleep." He offers, and Jungkook seems to realize what the stuffed toy might actually be.

"Let's put him back on the table then, yeah?" He offers, a hand with faint ink taking the toy from the smaller hands of the boy to place it back next to the picture frame of your dog and the collar on the tiny table near the door where he used to sleep. "So he can sleep well." He explains, making Dae nod. When you make your presence finally known, Jungkook removes the hand, heavy watch on his wrist faintly hitting the edge of the table for a second, as he watches how you help the small boy into his jacket.

You're a little confusing.

"Alright." You say after successfully getting Daehyun to put on his shoes. "Theres- uhm, there's a, wait, I'll show you.." You say, moving to pull a little folder out of one of the bags packed. "This one, please make sure Taehyung sees this. It's Daehyun's homework, and he really needs to do them this time." You emphasize. "Just make sure he actually looks inside at least once.." You sigh, putting the bright red folder back into the bag.

"I'll make sure." Jungkook accepts, taking the bag from you. "Anything else?" he wonders, and you refuse any eye contact, instead shaking your head to hug Daehyun goodbye as you bring him and Jungkook to your front door.

"Noona, you gotta hug Jungkookie too!" Dae says, surprising you with his lack of formality when addressing his father's friend- but you don't question it.

And admittedly, Jungkook is fairly surprised when you do in fact reach out to hug him goodbye, though very formal. It's still.. oddly nice, you don't seem to wear perfume but rather rely on your scented bodywash, which smells very good to him. This is weird. Why is he getting such feelings of comfort for a simple hug with nothing attached to it?

And why is he kind of disappointed when it ends far too quickly?

But it gets worse in the car, because Daehyun has clearly gotten the wrong message entirely. "Noona doesn't have a boyfriend." He says from the backseat where Jungkook has placed the booster seat he's gotten from Taehyung in cases like these where he has to pick up the young boy. "And appa said you don't have a girlfriend." He says, making Jungkook nod and hum a reply. "Noona is really pretty." He giggles. Jungkook cant help but chuckle along.

"She is." He agrees, because he won't lie about that. You are very pretty in his opinion, though he can only really judge you mostly by looks alone. "Did you have fun? I heard you were there the whole weekend." He tries to steer the conversation away, but the young boy clearly doesn't get the message.

"Noona can cook really well!" He praises. "She always makes me my favorite, and then we watch tv in our 'jamas." He says, and Jungkook has to imagine you both probably bundled up in blankets on the small couch you have, watching kid's shows until the poor boy falls asleep.

Domestic. Do you like children? Want your own in the future, maybe?

"Jungkookie?" Dae asks, and Jungkook hums a reply, telling the kid he's listening. "Do you like Noona?" He wonders.

"I don't know her that much, dae. But she seems nice." He offers instead, trying to evade the interrogation of the small boy.

"Do you like drinking?" Dae wonders. "Like, the stuff appa says I can't have?" He asks, and Jungkook grows a bit weary. Why exactly would the young boy ask something like that?

"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" He asks the boy, who seems to deflate now.

"Then you can't be friends with Noona." He complains.

"Why not?" Jungkook wonders.

"Because, the guy noona liked for a while always got mean when he was drinking that stuff." Dae complains, looking out the window. "I was never allowed to play at noona's house when he was there. He really liked that stuff that smells bad, but it made noona upset." He says.

Jungkook tenses up a bit. "Was he ever-, how was he mean to you?" Jungkook wonders.

"He always told noona to do things for him, and never let her play with me." He huffs. "And Yogi didn't like him too, because he always had to stay in his bed." He complains. Jungkook assumes the boy is probably talking about the dog.

Jungkook doesn't know how to ask what he wants to ask. It doesn't concern him at all- after all, it seems like you're no longer together with that guy, so he shouldn't pry. But something makes him worry- deep down, he's awfully wary, since he now realizes you did indeed not even touch any alcohol at the party at all- the drink Taehyung had seen you hold non-alcoholic. How bad must the relationship have been? You might not have a fear of men, but you're clearly affected by the past, it seems like.

"Did.." no. He shouldn't be asking that. It's none of his business.

"Do you get mean too when you drink?" Dae wants to know. "Appa only gets really sleepy." He giggles. Jungkook laughs along. Taehyung truly does only get horribly tired whenever he drinks- and he knows for a fact that he never gets drunk when he has to take care of the boy alone, so he's not at all alarmed by those words.

"No, I don't get mean." Jungkook answers. "I don't really drink a lot of it, so it only makes me feel a bit silly." He offers as an explanation, and Dae nods.

"Then, maybe Noona won't mind." He says, causing Jungkook to chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why do you want Noona to like me so much?" He wonders, and at that, Taehyung's son becomes excited.

"Because, then my favorite people like each other!" He exclaims. "And that's really cool. Then we can have sleepovers together, and you can help me get a new dog for noona!" He says. "She's really sad that Yogi sleeps now. I think she's lonely." He whines.

"We can have sleepovers anyways, dae." He laughs.

"But, appa told eomma, that you need someone you like." He huffs. Jungkook reminds himself to scold his friend at a later date. "Because you're not happy now, and you're lonely. And noona's lonely too." He offers.

Luckily, Jungkook escapes any further questioning as he finally reaches Taehyung's apartment, ready to drop the young boy off.

The whole conversation not leaving him at all the entire rest of the day, as he realizes he forgot to show Taehyung the folder.

Crap. This is your fault.

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It's been weeks- and apart from rubbing one out to the remaining memories of you in his car, he's not really thought much about you at all.

He's seen you on occasion here and there at the grocery store or a coffee shop, which made him realize that you've always been right under his nose but he just never knew who you were, but you two don't really have had any actual conversations anymore.

There's no reason for it.

He now knows that you're actually the part-time nanny Taehyung used to have a few years back, when you apparently had just been fighting to find a new job to keep your apartment and not get kicked out for not being able to pay rent. Back then, Taehyung and his wife had been living separated for a bit after a pretty bad fight- so the father had needed someone to take some weight off his shoulders, and help with the small child who couldn't even talk yet. You helped raise Daehyun basically, more or less- and, according to Taehyung, it shows.

The young boy has a strong sense of justice, and shares everything he has happily- something that he's learned from you. It makes some odd things make sense now to Jungkook as well- how Dae has some habits that seem very unique, but also too specific to have been developing all on their own. The child holds the front of his shirt a lot- something Jungkook noticed you do in a similar way as well, whenever you think of something.

Today, it's Daehyun's birthday. And Jungkook is sure, that the young boy probably demanded that both jungkook and you had to be there.

And he's right.

The minute he enters Taehyung's penthouse, he spots you sitting on the floor with the child, who's currently trying to read his own birthday card to you, before he spots him in the doorway. You look pretty, yet again. No makeup it seems like, and he can't say that you need it. You obviously don't, eyes still sparkling dangerously, smile still as lethal as ever as you wave a little bit before getting up.

You're dressed comfortably. He likes the sight of it- the casual dress you wear not too short to be scandalous, but short enough to tease him with the skin of your legs, hidden beneath a sheer pantyhose. Or?

No. There's an upper hem of lace- those are just stockings.

"Jungkookie, appa said you'll drive noona home today?" Dae says, now held up on Jungkook's hip, as he looks at Taehyung who laughs.

"Dae, I said I'm gonna ask him if he can drive her home!" He scolds gently. "Hey- sorry, he just runs with whatever he hears." The father tells him, and Jungkook just smiles, shaking his head.

"I can drive her home, no worries." He simply affirms. "It's no problem."

"Taehyung I told you I can go home by myself!" You whine, and Jungkook is intrigued by this seemingly new side of you. He knows you as a little shy, soft spoken, polite. You always greet him when you see him, and you've talked a little bit in his car weeks back- but then again, you only know each other on a very surface level.

He wonders what you're really like.

"And I said you're not driving alone when you're sick." Taehyung threatens, dad-voice coming through as he attempts to push through your clearly stubborn behavior, and Jungkook can't help but watch intently as your eyes roll around, attitude clear as you don't take your friend seriously at all.

"Noona is gonna be a mommy!" Daehyun blurts out to Jungkook, and for a split second, his entire body freezes, blood cooling down to the negatives, bones filling with fear.

He wore a condom- but what if something happened? What if it leaked? Was that even possible? He's not against becoming a father, absolutely not- but he'd like to have a proper relationship for that, a stable one, not something like this.

"Daehyun!" You scold with red cheeks, and Taehyung runs a hand over his face. "Appa just asked me if I was, I'm not!" You whine embarrassed, sighing. "Oh god, guys, please! I'm an adult woman, I'm not sick, I can go home by myself." You complain, walking into the kitchen, presumably to escape the pressuring situation.

"She threw up earlier, that's why I asked her. Dae must've heard me." Taehyung says, after averting his son's attention back to the TV in the living room, where his favorite show plays. "She refuses to see a doctor for it. But you look like you've seen a ghost-" Taehyung teases, before his eyes sharpen. "…could it be that the mention of her becoming a mommy made you worry?" He pokes, and Jungkook furrows his brows, averts eye contact. "Holy shit, you two!?" He hisses, and Jungkook groans.

"Shut up, it was nothing." He simply says, while Taehyung's eyes widen in a scandalized manner.

"Nothing?! Jungkook, where is that nothing?" He argues, surprisingly sternly. "I'll drive her home."

"You're acting like I forced myself onto her-" Jungkook sighs, but Taehyung shakes his head. "Taehyung, you heard her. She's an adult woman, she can decide things herself." Jungkook defends you. "I'll drive her home, and I'll text you once she's dropped off." He says, before he walks into the kitchen where you're filling up a glass with water.

"Oh god that was embarrassing." You whine into your hands, before you shake your head. "He acts as if I'm dying any second whenever something's up." You mumble, drinking from your glass. He can see you're a bit less energetic- hand a bit shaky as you drink.

"He worries." Jungkook offers, leaning against the counter next to the fridge, across from you. "And you should go see a doctor if you don't feel well." He scolds, and yet again, you roll your eyes.

"And you should try and work on your facial expressions, mister." You huff. "I could see the panic a mile away when Dae said I'm pregnant." You bite, making him tilt his head a little "Either way, I'm fine. I can't afford to call in sick right now or my landlord will kick me out the minute my rent is late again." You laugh a little bitterly, finishing your water before you rinse the glass in the sink.

"Do you not get paid a regular salary each month?" He wonders. You shake your head.

"I do, but it's the monthly bonus that keeps me afloat." You explain. "And I only get that one if I'm not sick and bring appropriate numbers to the table." You sigh. "My landlord just searches for a reason to kick me out, I'm sure." You mumble as you dry your hands.

"How come?" Jungkook asks.

"I didn't want to go out with the guy." You shrug, not looking at him. "I like older men, but sixty? No thanks.." You huff, turning around to look at a smug looking Jungkook, his arms crossed.

"Would've never guessed." He tells you in a cocky manner, and you cross your arms to mirror his position in an exagerated manner.

"I would've probably let you screw me if you were younger too." You respond.

"Oh?" He raises his brows. This is oddly fun. "Were you that needy?" He teases, and suddenly, your eyes soften quite a bit, scaring him.

"No." You shake your head. "Guess you were just that charming." You shrug.

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"If your job pays that awful, why not change it?" Jungkook wonders as he maneuvers out the parking lot, leaving Taehyung's home behind after Daehyun had gone to bed.

You shrug.

"I'm lucky I got accepted in this one." You say. You're tired- it's obvious to him. "I dropped out of school too early. Now I'm facing the consequences- and honestly, it's not that bad either. I get by, and it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice." You offer.

"Do you not have any ambitions?" He asks, relaxed now that he knows you're not one to be overly sensitive when it comes to more personal topics like that. You don't try to read between the lines where there's most of the time nothing at all to find.

"Its not like I don't have any ambitions." You respond, neither denying nor confirming. "It's more that I realized some of those ambitions were.. unrealistic. So I instead pursued what was." You shrug. "Nothing too deep. It's.. part of growing up, I guess." You explain.

Growing up. Talking to you, right now, truly does remind him of that. Almost two hands between you both in years, but you're awfully matured in the way you think at its core. You just have a softer shell around it, your opinions can still move, your mind still has some sort of wiggle room.

His doesn't. He makes decisions and sticks by them, most of the time. He doesn't like change, he enjoys his routine, keeps everything in order most of the time- until now.

Because you're definitely a decision he keeps bending around.

"How much is your rent?" Jungkook asks, and you look at him from where you're leaning against the car's window, an amused expression on your face.

"Why? You wanna be my sugar-daddy?" You joke, and he shrugs, much to your surprise.

"I don't care what you call it." He simply says. "But if it get's you to take some time and take care of your health, I can take care of a month's rent." He offers.

"I don't like that." You respond.

"I know." He laughs. "I've come to learn that you don't like accepting help. But it's something you can't avoid at times." He explains to you. "I'm just offering help. Whether or not you take it, is up to you." He shrugs.

"Why would you do that?" You wonder, suspicious.

"Because Taehyung worries about you. And Daehyun would be terribly upset if something was to happen to you." He admits. "I don't know you well enough to say that I'm doing this for you- so I'll be honest. I do this mostly for them." He says.

You nod. You like this- that he's actually telling the truth, instead of trying to woo you into something.

"Alright." You sigh, tired. "I'll.. text you?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I have your number from Taehyung already." He chuckles. "I just didn't have a reason to reach out yet." He admits.

You just nod, eyes falling shut for longer he notices.

You must be working hard if you're this exhausted. He really hopes you'll take care of yourself after he helps you sort everything out.

Hopefully his help is enough.

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He's lost control over the situation. How can this happen a second time?

He's been texting you these past few days, especially after you've finally took some time off of work to sort out your doctor's visits, having received some medication to finally help you resolve your issues.

He's not sure why he keeps coming back to you. And he's especially not sure how the hell he managed to get himself caught up in a situation like this twice, especially after Taehyung had been clearly upset about the first time.

There's something about you he can't really pin-point. It's both scary, and exciting.

You're kneeling on a small heart-shaped pillow from your small couch, hands occupied and slicked up with your own spit as you caress his length, head of it warm inside your mouth as you lick and suck. You've offered, and he assumed it to be a joke- but the moment you got down between his legs, all of his usual control over things went out the window. He might appear to be the one in charge, right in this moment, but he's truly at your mercy.

It makes him anxious. This shouldn't be happening.

But he can't deny the appeal of you taking care of him so well- it feels scarily intimate to have you between his legs like this, eyes closed as you seem to enjoy yourself, mostly due to his own hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face and taking the chance to offer some form of affection before he collects your hair in his fist for a second, long sigh escaping him as he feels the tip of your tongue push against the head of his cock, dipping into the small point, before you adjust your legs, letting go of him for just a second to lick from the base to the very tip once more.

You're a succubus, hidden behind a pretty face and sinful body.

He's not sure what your motivation is, hasn't really figured it out for the first time either. There's this little devil on his shoulder constantly urging him to accept your advances and let himself go, but the angel is louder, and keeps on feeding him doubts about the whole thing. He's consumed by his work, he doesn't have time for you, he can't offer you what you might want from a relationship. He doesn't even know if he himself is ready for something like that- he knows he should be, considering how long ago his divorce had been finished, but it's still odd to think about it. He's scarred by what went down, and doesn't want to go through this again.

He can handle being hated by one person he used to love. He wouldn't be able to have two doing the same.

It made him wonder if he's even someone worthy of having a relationship. Does he have enough to offer you that's not physical or monetary? No. He doesn't have time, he's awkward as hell, he doesn't like parties and rather enjoys laid back vacations somewhere no one knows him- if he even takes one at all. He wants a quiet life-

A quiet life?

'it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice.'

Maybe it's your hands on his cock, the back of your tongue over his tip, or the way your fingers suddenly move to massage his balls just right- but he's facing this horribly ironic moment of both pleasure and realization at the same time as his cum shoots into your mouth, lips sealed over the head to suck him for all he's got. His hand keeps pushing your head, fingers digging into your hair, and you moan quietly at the faint sting of it.

His head rests back on your couch. His hand loosens, letting you go, while his eyes stay closed, breath deep and uneven as he tries to calm himself. He doesn't even realize how you tuck him back into his underwear as he softens, though you leave the fly and belt untouched, instead moving to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

You wait. For what? You're not sure.

"I.." He starts, taking in a deep breath, a hand through his hair trying to sort him out again. "..you.."

"Was it good?" You wonder almost innocently, watching him amused.

He nods. "Very." He simply answers, brain dumb. He hates this.

"Nice." You smile, before you move to put the little pillow back on the couch. "Do you wanna.. leave right now? Or stay for coffee?" You wonder, treating this all way more casual than he is. He's not sure what to do. But he knows you need to talk about this.

"Can you come here for a second?" He asks, and you nod, putting down the mug you got out of the pantry, making your way over to him to sit on the couch next to him. "I hope you know this isn't.. needed. I honestly just wanted to help you out with rent." He urges, and you nod.

"I know." You say, making him feel a bit lighter. "Was that.. not something you wanted?" You worry, but he shakes his head.

"I'm.. I'll have to be honest here." He sighs, having closed his pants and adjusted himself prior already, not leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He can't look at you- not if he wants to be honest and straight forward. "I'm not sure." He offers. "I think it's clear that there's an attraction going on- but I don't know how far this can go."

"I'm not in love with you or anything." You defend yourself. "Neither do I have a crush. I just like you." You shrug.

"That's good." He nods to himself. "It's good that you know that. That you... can distinguish it."

"I think your problem might have something to do with.. my age?" You wonder, and Jungkook turns his head towards you, eyes staying on your knees however. "Yoongi mentioned something once. That he has a friend who has some sort of mid-life crisis right now and thinks he's too old for everything." You giggle.

"And how do you know that would be me?" He calls you out a little offended.

"Because it just fits." You laugh. "You play around with Dae all the time, but the second someone watches you, you become all awkward. It's kinda sad." You admit.

"How so?" He wants to know.

"Because it's dumb." You say, leaning back against your couch.

"Maybe for you. But when you're my age-" He starts, and you suddenly start to laugh, cutting him off.

"See! That's how I know you're the one with the crisis!" You joke, hand hitting his shoulder playfully, and without any intention to hurt. "I'm not a kid. I can make my decisions just fine." You say.

"And your decision is?" He wonders, now looking at you.

"That I want to get to know you." You tell him. "I want to.. see where it goes." You offer.

"What if it goes nowhere?" He argues. "I can't promise you some fairytale love-story." He denies. "I'm divorced, I want children at some point, I don't like parties, I work long hours-"

"But that's stuff that we can work out, no?" You wonder. "Time is what you're scared of, right? Then how about this-" You say, suddenly sitting on your knees, body facing his. "Every day you're not trying is a day you could be spending in a more productive way. For example, by getting to know me. Trying out if your idea of a relationship aligns with mine, if your work schedule is too packed, all of that." You offer. "Right now, we could already be talking about more interesting things than the 'what-if'. Or, in your big-man-terms:" You joke, leaning closer to him. "You're wasting time."

"Have you ever considered a career in communication-training?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're awfully great at this." He praises, making you giggle.

"Nah, I like my normal nine-to-five." You say. "Even if it barely pays enough."

"Well I heard someone's taking care of rent at the moment." he offers, reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Well, only for a month, so that's a bummer." You shrug, leaning into his hand now holding your cheek.

"..I'm not used to being in a relationship." He sighs.

"We can start just being friends." You respond.

"I think we're a little past the general boundaries of friendship." He chuckles.

"Then friends who occasionally have sex." You roll your eyes.

"That's not very romantic." He argues.

"You can fuck me with music in the background?" You joke, and he shakes his head, laughing.

You're truly far more than he thought you are, and he's not sure if he's worth your time. But he wants to be. Looking at you, right now, he wants to be worth it. He wants to put the effort into it, even if it doesn't work out in the end. He wants to try- so that even if you don't fit, you at least had some good memories together that were worth the time spent.

He wants to try.

Even if it's a mistake.

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