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rubyreduji · 4 months

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The Christmas Boyfriend — yjh

summary: when you tell your mom the little white lie that you have a boyfriend, you don’t expect it to evolve into bringing your friend with benefits home for christmas. what can go wrong?

tags: fluff, smut (minors dni), fwb, fake dating, college!au warnings: ok the smut is likes less than 2k words of this fic tbh, conversations about birth control, mention of unsafe sex, explicit sex, oral, fingering, praise, cum eating, creampies wc: 12.7k an: guys im not used to writing jeonghan so if his characterization is off im so sorry fdsak anyways writing this made me want to go ice skating :((

“Sweetie! I’m so excited for you to come home for Christmas!” Your mom calls over the phone.

“Yeah Mom, me too,” you say with half sincerity.

“Oh and make sure you bring that cute boyfriend with you too! I want to meet him, you’ve told me almost nothing about him!”

You pause. Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Oh shit.

“Hey Mom?” It was the end of summer and you were about to go back to university.

“Yes sweetie?” Your mom was bustling around the kitchen getting ready for dinner.

“Do you think that I could go on birth control?” These worlds made your mother stop.

“Birth control? Why do you need to go on birth control? I know your cycle is normal, so who are you having sex with? Oh please don’t tell me you’re sleeping around,” your mom huffed exasperatedly.

“I’m not!” Technically you weren’t sleeping around. You were sleeping with one person, repeatedly. “I have a boyfriend Mom, and we use protection, but it would be nice to have an extra layer of protection.” It was…somewhat the truth. You tried to use protection but every once in a while you…didn’t. You’d taken a lot of Plan B lately.

“A boyfriend! Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me all about him!” The problem is…you didn’t have a boyfriend. You had a Jeonghan who periodically fucked you during the school year. You hadn’t seen him all summer but you knew that as soon as the school year started again you guys would start right back up.

“His name is Jeonghan, he’s studying business. We’ve been dating since the beginning of the year.”

“Oh tell me more! I want to know, please. I have to meet him immediately.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the day making up half-lies about Jeonghan and convincing your mother to let you on birth control.

You honestly forgot you told your mom that lie, and now it’s coming back to bite you in the butt. You hadn’t brought him up to your mom since and now you either have to tell her you guys broke up or you have to convince Jeonghan to spend part of winter break with your family pretending to be your boyfriend. Knowing your mom, the latter will be easier.

“You told your mom WHAT?” You decide to tell Jeonghan after you guys finish having sex.

“I told her…that we’re dating.”

“Why?”

“You came inside me two minutes ago, you really wanna ask why? She would be so upset if she knew I was in a friends with benefits situation but if I tell her I have a boyfriend that I trust and care for, she’ll let me go on birth control.”

“Why did you have to ask her to go on birth control?” Jeonghan asks as you start to get dressed.

“I’m a college student Jeonghan, birth control isn’t free and if I ask my mom I can put it on her insurance. C’mon can you do this one thing for me? My mom is a great cook and it only has to be for a little bit, only one day really!”

“This really means that much to you?”

“Yes.” You’re practically making puppy dog eyes at him now.

“Well, you know, I just so happen to need somewhere to stay during winter break. So…I guess I’ll be staying with you and putting on the best show for your mom. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.”

You just grin at him.

“Sweetie! You’re home! Honey come here, our daughter is home!” Your mom runs out of the house to greet you, scooping you up into a hug. “Oh, oh, is this him?” She glances over your shoulder excitedly to where Jeonghan is standing behind you by the car.

“Mom, this is Jeonghan…my boyfriend.” You have to force the last bit out.

“Oh he’s so handsome! It’s nice to finally meet you Jeonghan, I’m so happy you’re joining us for the holidays.”

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you.” Jeonghan accepts your mom’s hug.

“Of course! You’ve been dating my daughter for almost a year now, anything you need we’ll be here.”

“Is that them?” A booming voice comes from the house. You look over to see your dad and brother standing on the porch.

“Honey, come meet Jeonghan! Look how handsome he is!”

You sigh, it’s already going to be a long four weeks.

“I’m…sorry about them,” you tell Jeonghan when you’re finally alone in your room, where your mother insisted Jeonghan stay with you. For someone who disapproves of casual sex, she sure does support ‘healthy love making between couples’. You don’t even want to think about her and your dad.

“I can’t say you didn’t warn me,” Jeonghan chuckles. “They all seem really nice though.”

“They’re…something,” you mutter. “I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed. Once again I’m really sorry about my mom.”

“It’s fine, I’m serious, stop stressing out. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “That reminds me. We have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” Jeonghan cocks an eyebrow curiously, and a bit skeptical.

“Yes. I know it sounds silly and cliche, but really, we need to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. We just have to pretend to be a couple, that’s not hard. Hugging, kissing, all that gooey stuff.”

“What if my parents ask about our relationship? Are you sure you’re okay being coupley with me all the time? I-”

“Babe,” Jeonghan starts, “stop worrying. You make it seem like you have zero faith in me. Trust me, I can be the best fake-boyfriend you’ll ever need.” You scrunch your nose up at him calling you ‘babe’ in a non-sexual setting, but you guess you’ll have to get used to it.

“Still…if you even want to back out, just tell me and we can make up some excuse for you having to leave or-”

Jeonghan cuts you off once more, “Stop worrying. It’s the holiday season, let’s have fun! If your parents ask about our relationship just leave it to me.”

You stare at Jeonghan unsure, all too familiar with his antics. You can tell Jeonghan is about to counter your look when all of a sudden your door is flung open.

“Mom said dinner is ready!” Your brother announces.

You admit defeat on having this conversation with Jeonghan, leading him downstairs to where everyone is taking their place around the dinner table. The table feels just slightly cramped with the addition of the chair added for Jeonghan squeezed in next to yours. The top of dinner is quiet besides a few “could you pass the salt” or “this tastes great Mom” thrown in. It isn’t until your dad is going in for seconds when your mom speaks up.

“So, Jeonghan, tell me about yourself. Pumpkin has barely told us anything about you.”

You internally groan at the childhood nickname your family still insists on using for you, and you hope it goes unnoticed by Jeonghan. Unfortunately, not much slips past him.

“Pumpkin?”

“A terrible nickname from when I was little,” you explain, slightly glaring at your mother.

“I think it’s cute.” You so desperately want to smack the smug look off Jeonghan’s face.

“It is cute,” your mom interjects. “It’s based on these adorable photos we took during her first fall. We did a photoshoot and put her in a pumpkin, it was just darling. Remind me later and I’ll pull out the photobooks.” Your mom winks at Jeonghan and you’re starting to realize just how big of a mistake this was. “Now, back to what I was saying. Tell me about yourself, Jeonghan.”

“Well there’s not much to say. I’m a business major, I enjoy sports and spending time with my friends.”

“He’s an amazing singer,” you jut in. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because Jeonghan is selling himself short. “He’s a part of the University’s choir. And he models for the fashion students.” You can see Jeonghan blush under your praise.

“Aw, that’s nice. And how did you two meet?”

“We met through a mutual friend, and then ended up having a class together the following semester. First time we met I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’m just lucky she gave me the time of day.” Jeonghan makes a show of grabbing your hand in his, clasping them together on the table. Even though you know it’s for show, the display makes your stomach flip a bit.

You do take note that his story is true for the most part. At least the part about you two meeting and then sharing a class. You’re pretty sure the part about you being “the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen” is just fluff to appease your mom. It does the trick though, as your mom coos at Jeonghan’s words.

She continues to ask Jeonghan questions about himself and your relationship, and Jeonghan keeps delivering. He tells her stories about him attempting to flirt with you and you being too oblivious to realize. You roll your eyes the whole time, knowing what he’s actually talking about. The three weeks he spent continuously trying to hit on you before you finally agreed to go on a date with him.

Speaking of the date, Jeonghan also tells that story. In real life what happened with Jeonghan invited you over to watch a movie, you both got a little tipsy, and ended up fucking right on his couch. Neither of you asked for a second date, but did start to booty call each other, so that’s something. The way Jeonghan tells it to your mom is a lot more…wholesome.

“We went out to see a movie, her choice of course.” Lie, Jeonghan forced you to watch The Notebook. “Then afterwards I didn’t want the date to end so we got dessert and went back to my apartment. We spent the whole night talking before she eventually fell asleep on my couch. It was adorable.”

“Oh stop,” you mutter, trying your best to sound playful.

“It’s true. The way your nose twitches when you’re dreaming and the little huffs you let out. How can I find that as anything but the cutest thing ever?” Jeonghan then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your warm cheeks.

You’re aware you do those things in your sleep, it’s something you’ve done ever since you were little, but you weren’t aware that Jeonghan knew about them. Everytime you sleep over at Jeonghan’s, or he spends the night at yours, he always complains in the morning about how you elbowed him in your sleep all night.

“Oh you two are just so cute!” Your mom exclaims. She then turns to you, “How dare you keep him away from us for so long.”

Your brother is obviously doesn't care for the topic of conversation and excuses himself from the table. Your mom realizes that dinner is now officially over and she and your father start to clean up the table.

“Don’t go far, Jeonghan. I need to show you those baby pictures!”

“Noooo.” You tug on Jeonghan’s sleeve, like it might somehow convince him to go back upstairs with you, but of course not. Of course Jeonghan wants to see all of your baby photos.

You know this shouldn’t really bother you this much. Everyone has baby photos. The issue is you were an extremely unphotogenic baby. Your brother has maybe some of the cutest baby photos you’ve ever seen. Not you. You look like a gremlin, to the point your baby photos became a meme between you and your friends in high school.

Your mom makes a pot of coffee for all of you before she’s shuffling into the living room and pulling out the large fifty page photo album of you from newborn to age four. Jeonghan follows suit and you reluctantly take your place next to him on the couch.

The first few pages aren’t bad. They’re all photos of you still in the hospital when you were first being held by your mom and dad, swaddled in a cute little pink blanket that you know your mom has stored somewhere up in the attic.

The first bad photo doesn’t show up until a few pages in, after you were brought home. It’s a photo of you crying, your face all scrunched up in an ugly expression. You think it’s hideous but it’s one of your dad’s favorite baby photos of you. Jeonghan chuckles slightly and you shove him lightly.

Shortly after that the infamous pumpkin photo shows up. It’s you sitting in a pumpkin, a stupid, blank look on your face as you chew on the pumpkin. There’s a little orange beanie on your head that’s just a little too big for your head.

“Aww, look at that little pumpkin,” Jeonghan giggles.

“Shut up,” you grumble, glaring down at the picture.

Unfortunately for you, it only gets worse from there. There’s the photos from when you were two years old and constantly had messy hair and a stupid expression on your face. And then the photos of you at three when all you would do was pout at the camera. Then the photos from when you were four and somehow every photo was taken at just the wrong second.

Your mother and Jeonghan have a great time, cooing at each photo, your mother giving an anecdote every once in a while. It isn’t until near the end that Jeonghan finally looks over at you, on his other side. He smiles at the slight pout on your face.

“C’mon babe, stop pouting.” Jeonghan scoots closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. Even if it’s just for show, you can’t help but admit it is slightly comforting. Jeonghan then leans in and whispers to you. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You really are the cutest little baby. I mean that’s not a surprise, you’re still cute, aren’t you baby?”

Your face heats up at his words. You’re not sure why he’s laying it on so thick when you’re sure your mom can’t even hear him. You suddenly stand, trying to subtly get distance between you and your fake boyfriend.

“Well, it’s getting late and I’m tired after all of that traveling today. We’ll see you in the morning Mom.”

Jeonghan finally allows you to pull him back upstairs and into your room. You let out a deep sigh as soon as the door is closed and you move to start getting ready for bed.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks you as he changes into his pajamas as well. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries did I?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you assure him. “You’re just doing what any boyfriend would, so keep it up, actually.”

“Okay…” Jeonghan says, the skepticism in his voice. You don’t say anything else though and Jeonghan drops it, thankfully.

You both crawl into bed and you try not to think about how you can feel his body so close to yours. As you close your eyes you can’t help but think you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the break.

“We’re going Christmas tree shopping today!” Your mom announces cheerfully when you and Jeonghan make your way downstairs for breakfast.

“You guys haven’t gotten a tree yet?” You ask.

“We were waiting for you,” your mom explains. “So we could go as a family and then decorate it together.”

After breakfast your whole family piles into your dad’s car and you take off to the Christmas tree lot. There’s Christmas music playing on the radio as you drive and you can hear Jeonghan softly sing along.

You’ve always liked Jeonghan’s voice. You find his high, light voice angelic and you could listen to him sing all the time. You tune out the chatter of your parents in favor of listening to Jeonghan the whole ride there. A part of you is glad that only you can hear him, taking this as a moment for yourself.

As soon as the car parks and you all climb out of the car, Jeonghan reaches over and grabs your hand in his. You look over at him to see him smiling at you and you smile back. There’s a bite in the air as you two walk through the trees and you appreciate the warmth of Jeonghan’s hand in yours.

“Oh, what a darling couple,” you hear an old couple whisper as they walk past you two.

“Hear that? We look darling together, darling” Jeonghan jokes after they’re out of earshot. You roll your eyes but there’s a smile on your face as you playfully knock your elbow into Jeonghan’s side.

You and Jeonghan continue to walk around, looking at trees, until your father finds you two to tell you that your bother found the perfect tree. Your brother is bouncing around when you three make your way to the tree and he looks at you and Jeonghan proudly.

“Good choice, little man,” you tell him.

“Yeah, looks like a great tree,” Jeonghan agrees, which makes your brother smile even more.

Your family is standing in line to pay for the tree when your mom gasps. You look over at her to see her giddy face as she points up. You glance up to see the sprig of mistletoe places directly over you and Jeonghan’s heads.

“Well look at that,” Jeonghan says amused. “It looks like we have to kiss. By the laws of Christmas of course.”

“By the laws of Christmas?”

“Of course. I don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list,” Jeonghan teases you. You shake your head, smiling.

“If you say so.” You lean in and press a kiss to Jeonghan’s lips.

You’ve never actually kissed him outside of having sex, but it comes surprisingly natural to you. Jeonghan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in closer for just a moment, before pulling away. The tip of his nose and ears are pink and there’s a slight twinkle in his eye and he grins at you.

“You have cooties now,” your little brother announces from beside you and you and Jeonghan both burst out laughing.

On the ride back home, your whole family sings along to the radio, and your mother compliments Jeonghan’s voice, which makes him flustered.

After you get back home, your dad and Jeonghan struggle to get the tree to fit through the door as you and your mom snicker at them. After they finally get it into the living room, you, Jeonghan, and your brother get to work decorating it. When your brother asks why your parents aren’t helping, your dad says he did all the work by paying for it.

The three of you (mostly you and Jeonghan) spend way too much time untangling lights before you string them up, finally allowing you to get to the good part. Your family’s ornaments are stored in a large plastic tub and you get to work digging through them. You’re not sure how many your family owns, but you’re sure it’s enough to cover three trees in whole. The tub isn’t organized in any way and you do your best to pick and choose which ones you think will make the best decorations.

Jeonghan kneels down beside you and starts to look through the tub as well.

“These ornaments are cute,” Jeonghan comments as he picks up a small stuffed animal snowman with a loop attached to it. He reaches over to place it on the tree.

“Yeah, it’s a part of my grandparents’ gift to us every year. An ornament for both of us.” You pick up a decoration with a family picture on it and you hang it up.

“You were so small in that one,” Jeonghan says, referencing the picture you just added to the tree.

You glance over the photo. You’re maybe five or six, way before your brother was born. You’re squished between your parents on a bench with Christmas lights behind you. You’re bundled up in a puffy winter jacket and a hat is squashed into your head. It’s a sweet photo.

“You know, this is all quite unfair,” you tell him. “You’re going to have to show me your childhood photos at some point now.”

“Now I don’t know if that was part of the deal.”

“Well we might just have to make it so. I’d love to see tiny little Hannie.”

“Maybe I could strike up a deal…”

You’re about to make a comment on Jeonghan’s sneaky ways, when you feel a tap on your leg. You look down to see your brother standing next to you with a sled shaped ornament in his hand.

“I need help putting this on the tree.”

“I got you buddy.” Jeonghan moves over to pick your brother up, lifting him up so your brother can place the ornament on the tree.

The moment is oddly sweet and when Jeonghan lets him down, he gives your brother a high five after. Jeonghan walks back over to the tub before picking up an ornament. After closer inspection you realize that it’s the ornament shaped like a little bunny with a fluffy cotton tail and a pink scarf. You quickly lunge forward and snatch it out of his hands.

“Aish!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, holding onto the ornament. “But you can’t place this on the tree.”

“Why not?”

“Because…,” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed.

“That’s her favorite, she has to place it on the tree every year. In its special spot,” you mom answers as she walks into the room, carrying a tray of cookies.

Jeonghan just chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. You flush, trying not to think too much of it. It’s just because your mom is standing in the room. “That’s so cute. In its ‘special spot’?”

“Yes,” you mumble. You move out of Jeonghan’s grip to lift the ornament and place it at the top of the tree, right under where the star sits. The idea is more embarrassing now that Jeonghan is staring at you, the smug little grin on his face, but you can’t ignore tradition just because you know he’s going to make fun of you later.

“Are there any more special ornaments I should know about, darling?” Jeonghan asks and you smack him lightly, both for the comment and the teasing nickname he’s picked up.

“No. Decorate at your free will.”

Your brother is now more interested in the cookies your mom brought in, leaving you and Jeonghan to finish the tree off. It’s weighted down by all of the ornaments you’ve hung on it by the end. You reach down into the box to grab the tree topper.

“All that’s left is the star,” you announce.

“Jeonghan should put it on,” your mom suggests and you hold it out to him.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“We insist,” your mom tells him.

“C’mon Han, just do it, make her happy.” You nudge him a bit and Jeonghan finally takes it before reaching up on his tiptoes to place the star on top. You and your mom cheer and you can see the small smile on Jeonghan’s face.

With the finishing touch on the tree, you’re able to step back and look at your masterpiece.

“I think we did a pretty good job,” you say.

“I think we did the best job, and I should know. I’m a tree decorating veteran.” Jeonghan wraps an arm around your waist. You glance up at him, only to be surprised by him pecking you on the lips. You don’t even have time to react, the kiss smooth like you two do it all the time.

Jeonghan doesn’t bat an eye, turning back to stare at the tree. You feel your stomach flutter.

So here’s the thing. It’s not like you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, he’s a great guy, a close friend, but you two just never evolved into that part of your relationship. The issue when you’re hooking up with someone is that it’s intimate. You’ve spent the night at each other’s apartments, you share the same friends, you have strangely deep pillow talk with one another. It’s all under the same impression that you’re just friends with benefits, but now you’re here, in your childhood home, pretending to be a couple. The circumstances are completely different and now you don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jeonghan keeps kissing you with no sexual undertones under it, and maybe you like it a little too much.

When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan is already awake on his phone. He looks over at you and snickers before turning his phone towards you. On his screen is a photo of you asleep, your mouth wide open and a bit of drool running down your cheek.

“Delete that!” You shout, suddenly wide awake. Jeonghan giggles as he stands up and runs out of the room. You chase after him, yelling at him, until you two make it to the kitchen.

“Well! You two are lively this morning,” your mom comments. She’s standing at the stove cooking breakfast with a fond grin on her face.

“Good morning!” Jeonghan says, a smug smile on his face as he slips his phone into his pocket. “That smells great. Do you need any help?” Jeonghan gestures to the plates sitting on the counter, waiting to be put out.

“Oh honey, no, no, you go sit. You’re a guest.”

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks and your mom nods.

“Of course. Pumpkin, you can help me.”

Jeonghan moves to the dining table while your mom moves closer to you, a giddy look on her face, as she hands you the plates.

“Pumpkin, you’ve really found yourself a keeper,” she whispers to you. “Jeonghan is such a sweet young man.”

“Uh, yeah mom, thanks,” you mutter.

It’s not like you don’t know Jeonghan’s a great guy, but the truth is you two aren’t dating. It’s not like you can tell your mom that, but you don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep up the lie after you two leave after break. It was easy when he was just a random name you threw out, but now your mom has actually met him, and he’s doing a little too well at charming her.

And maybe you too. It’s only been two days of pretending to fake date Jeonghan and somehow you’re already questioning your whole relationship with him. You don’t know if your heart will take fake dating him for any longer than you have to.

You and your mom head towards the table where Jeonghan sits next to your brother, looking invested in whatever your brother is talking about. You take your seat on the other side of Jeonghan as your mother sits across from you.

“So, any plans you two have for today?”

“Uhm, not at the moment,” you reply.

“You two should go ice skating! A new place opened downtown. I’m sure all the cute young couples are going there.”

You perk up at the idea. Ice skating has always been a fun winter tradition for you and now you have a reason to go. Right as the sun is starting to set, you and Jeonghan take off downtown. The city is dressed up in lights and it excites the child inside of you.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You ask Jeonghan as you walk down the street.

“Isn't what pretty?”

“The lights. Look at them. It really gets me in the Christmas mood,” you say.

“Oh, yeah. They do look nice. Oh, there’s the skating rink.”

The rink is large and already filled with several people from other couples to families to people just skating solo. There are lights surrounding the rink and you can hear Christmas music playing out of speakers nearby.

You and Jeonghan go and rent your skates before putting them on and heading towards the ice. You slide onto the rink first and then wait for Jeonghan to follow. You watch as he steps out on the ice and moves to push himself forward, only to fall directly on his ass.

You stifle a laugh before reaching down to help him up. As soon as he’s back up Jeonghan moves over to hold onto the wall.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m not very good at ice skating.”

You actually allow yourself to laugh out loud this time. “Why did you agree to come?”

“I don’t know, your mom seemed so excited about it and so did you.”

You smile before skating up to Jeonghan’s side. “That’s sweet of you Han, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. We can just walk around downtown and look at the lights.”

“No, I want to do this,” Jeonghan states, determined.

“Okay, okay. At least let me help you out.” You move your hand to grasp Jeonghan’s and you start to move. Jeonghan gently lets go of the wall to follow you, his grip on your hand tight.

You skate effortlessly, trying not to giggle as Jeonghan does his best not to fall and pull you down with him. You’re skating much slower than you’re used to as Jeonghan clings to your arm.

“How are you so good at this,” Jeonghan whines as you two stop to take a break.

“Ice skating is a family tradition for me. Don’t worry, you look cute.” You reach up to straighten the fluffy hat on his head.

The moment feels oddly intimate, which is an interesting feeling considering you two have seen each other naked. It almost feels like you two are an actual couple, out on a cute Christmas-y date.

If you’re being honest, Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. You love the whole season and the feeling of family and joy and love. When you were little you always dreamed of having a great Christmas romance, and now you have it, it’s just…fake.

You look at Jeonghan to see the soft pink dusting his face and ears and you wonder if it’s because of the cold or if he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Aww, you two are so cute.” The moment is broken and you look to the side to see an older couple skating up to you two. “Would you like us to take your photo?”

“Oh, um, sure!” You reply, pulling your phone out to hand to them. Your mom did tell you to take lots of photos.

You skate back over to Jeonghan and position yourself next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You two lean into each other, smiling at the camera. After that photo is taken you lean in to press a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek.

The couple then returns your phone and bids you a goodbye. You flip through the photos and Jeonghan peeks over your shoulder at them.

“You should send those to me.”

You look at him curiously. In all the time you’ve known Jeonghan, you’ve never known him to care much about having photos of you two together, even as just friends, but you shoot them over to his number anyway. You then grab his hand again and continue to skate.

Even with Jeonghan’s poor skating skills, you two still have fun. The Christmas music sets the mood as you two skate around the rink and you can hear Jeonghan humming along as you skate. The moment is nice.

You two skate for about an hour before Jeonghan’s feet start to hurt and you two decide to put the skates up and pop into a nearby cafe to grab some hot chocolate before exploring downtown more. There is a tree put in the center of the plaza and you and Jeonghan take a few more photos to show your mom.

In the midst of hooking up with Jeonghan, sometimes it’s hard to remember you two are friends as well. You’re a bit glad for this whole fake dating thing, because it gives you a chance to hang out with Jeonghan in a non-sexual manner. It reminds you of how much you like Jeonghan as just a person and how you enjoy spending time with him. It’s really nice.

It’s late into the night when you two finally head back to your house. The lights are already all off and you and Jeonghan creep up to your room quietly, as to not wake up anyone else. You two quietly change into your pajamas before crawling into your bed.

There’s a slight chill in the room and you slide over to Jeonghan to try and get warmer. He accepts you into his arms and you two lay there in silence for a moment before he begins to speak.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this at first, but I’ve been having a lot of fun. Your family’s great.”

“Yeah…they are. Thanks for doing this for me by the way.”

“I mean, it benefits me too, right,” Jeonghan chuckles.

Right. The reason you’re doing this in the first place: the birth control.

It’s weird to think about now that you’re here. Jeonghan has seemed to blend into your family so well, you nearly forgot the reason this started to begin with.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeonghan asks.

“What? Oh yeah. I’m just…tired. I think I should try to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay…goodnight.”

When you wake up, Jeonghan is still asleep next to you, and you glance at the clock to see it’s strangely early. It’s then that you hear the tapping on your door and you stand up to crack it open. Your mom is standing on the other side of the door with a paper in her hand.

“Sweetie, sorry to wake you up, but I need you to do me a favor today.”

“What is it Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, nothing wrong, but I need you to go out and buy these things for me.” She passes you the list and you scan over it before shooting your mom a look.

“You haven’t gotten the presents yet?” You hiss. “Christmas is in like four days!”

“I know! Me and your father haven’t had time to go with your brother around. Please? Here’s my card.” She passes you her credit card. “You can pick up some gifts for yourself as well. Bring Jeonghan along, get lunch, make a day out of it. Please, Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. I’ll get it all.”

“Thank you!” Your mom hugs you quickly before leaving. You sigh, staring down at the list. There’s quite a few things on it. The closer you look at it you realize there’s also gifts for your extended family and your father on it. You huff, you have your work cut out for you. At least your mom has marked what store you can find each item.

You walk over to the bed and shake Jeonghan until he wakes up.

“Wha’?”

“Come up, get up. We have a long day of shopping ahead of us and I want to beat the crowds.”

Jeonghan grumbles a bit more but rolls out of bed. You two get dressed before climbing into your car and heading towards the store. You stop at a coffee shop to get both of you take out cups and head to the first store.

Your brother’s Christmas list is mainly toys, which you guess you can expect from a five year old. The toy store is already bustling with people and you grab a cart and Jeonghan’s hand so you don’t lose each other. You make your way through the aisles, doing your best to find everything on the list.

“What about this one?” Jeonghan asks, holding up a green race car. You frown.

“No. He doesn’t like that shade of green, and he already owns three green cars. He wants a purple one…aha! Here it is.” You grab the one on the back of the rack before throwing it into the cart. “Okay. I think there’s toy dinosaurs a few aisles down, and then we should have everything here.”

You two continue through the store before you find the aisle full of different dinosaur themed toys. You pick up a book for you to gift your little brother yourself and then look over the toys.

“He already owns a t-rex, a stegosaurus, and a triceratops,” you mutter more to yourself than Jeonghan. You glance through the toys before landing on a dinosaur with a long neck. “Brachiosaurus, perfect.”

You place this in the cart as well and then turn to Jeonghan, who is smiling at you. “You’re a good big sister, you know that?”

“I’m just doing what my mom asked me,” you tell him as you push the cart towards the check out.

“No I mean, you pay attention to him. You know what toys he already owns and what colors he likes. It’s sweet.”

You brush Jeonghan off again, but the words cause a warm feeling to bloom in your stomach. You two stand in the check out line for what feels like forever before you’re able to leave. As you two are walking to the car you look over at Jeonghan and realize he deserves something for Christmas as well. He’s spending the whole break with you and your family, it’s the least you can do.

“Oh shit, I forgot something. Here, take the car keys, I’ll be back in a flash, I promise.” You hand him the keys before running back into the store before Jeonghan can protest.

You weave through the people before making it to the Lego aisle. You’ve seen all of the models inside his apartment, and you figure this will be a good gift for him. You search through the different kits to find the best one, before settling on the electric guitar set. You’ve seen him play the bass a couple of times, and you hope Jeonghan will still appreciate the thought.

The line is a bit shorter this time and you make sure the box is well hidden in the bag before making your way back to the car. You store the bag in the back before slipping into the driver’s seat.

“You got everything you need?” Jeonghan asks and you smile and nod.

“Yep! On to the next place.”

The next store is less exciting than being in a toy store and it seems to be even busier. You and Jeonghan hold hands once more as you walk through the store. His humming to the Christmas music on the speakers calms you a bit, and you allow yourself to enjoy the Christmas spirit more.

You and Jeonghan make it through the store, and another one before you decide it’s time for a lunch break. You two find a cute Italian place to sit down and rest your feet. You’re waiting for your food to arrive when your phone dings and you see an Instagram notification. You open your phone to see Jeonghan has tagged you in a post.

The first photo is the two of you at the skating rink, your arms wrapped around each other. There are a few more photos. A photo of you holding your hot chocolate while looking at the lights. The selfie you two took in front of the tree in the plaza. The final photo is a photo of you putting an ornament on your own tree at home. The post is captioned Christmas 🎄🎁☕.

“Our friends are going to think we’re crazy,” you tell Jeonghan. In theory, your friends know you and Jeonghan are sleeping together, but you’ve never explicitly said it, and they most definitely don’t know that Jeonghan is spending Christmas at your house.

“So? Let them. Those are cute photos.” You can’t argue with that and you drop a like and repost it to your story.

When you finish up lunch there’s one more store you two have to hit. There are only a few odd and end items left and you can’t wait to get home. You and Jeonghan are looking at sweaters when you feel someone bump into you and you lurch forward a bit.

“Watch it,” the man growls.

“Hey!” Jeonghan shouts, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

“What?” The man turns back around.

“You bumped into my girlfriend.” Despite this not being the moment to get flustered, hearing Jeonghan call you his girlfriend even without your family around sends butterflies into your tummy.

The man and Jeonghan have a stare down for a moment before the man huffs out a pathetic “sorry” before walking off.

“Thanks Han,” you say before you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Well, some people just belong on the naughty-list,” he says, which makes you chuckle.

By late afternoon you two finally finish shopping and you get a text from your mom that tells you she’s taken your little brother to the grocery store so you and Jeonghan have time to get the gifts in the house without him seeing. You and Jeonghan quickly bring everything to your room before closing the door. You make sure to slip the present for Jeonghan under your bed before he notices and you then turn to him.

“Want to help me wrap these presents?”

“Of course.”

You and Jeonghan sit on the floor of your room, where Jeonghan soon finds out you’re awful at wrapping gifts.

“It’s so easy. It’s just folds and tape,” Jeonghan says as he places a piece of tape on the most perfectly wrapped present you’ve ever seen.

“Oh shush. I usually use gift bags okay? And now I have you, so you can wrap all of the presents from Santa, and I can do the rest,” you declare as you scribble a To: Mom onto the present you finished wrapping.

“Fine, but only because you’re the worst gift wrapping elf I’ve ever seen.”

Though you know it’s meant as an insult, you can’t help but smile at the cuteness of his sentence. You’re also just happy you don’t have to wrap more gifts than necessary.

It’s late when you wake up the next morning, due to the fact you went to bed late last night. You and Jeonghan stayed up to finish wrapping presents and then you two got onto talking about family Christmas tradition and before you knew it, it was two am.

The bed is chilly and when you sit up to look, the other side of the bed is empty. You wrap a blanket around you and head downstairs to see Jeonghan and your mom sitting at the table talking. When you look out the window it’s a world of white and you start to feel giddy.

“It snowed!” You exclaim. “Hannie, we have to go play in it!”

You know it’s childish, but you can’t help it. You quickly get dressed and put on your winter coat and gloves before heading outside. A few minutes later, Jeonghan exits the house as well, your brother in tow. You search through your garage before you find your sleds and the three of you take a short walk to the park down the street. There’s a big hill next to it and you all take turns riding down it.

“C’mon, ride down together with me.” Jeonghan pats the space in between his legs on the sled and you climb on.

Jeonghan pushes off and then wraps his arms around your waist as you two go speeding down the hill. You can feel the snow fly back into your face and your sled goes tilting before you and Jeonghan are completely thrown off. You two land in a heap together and you both start giggling. You roll over in the snow and start to make a snow angel and Jeonghan does the same.

When you stand up and assess your work, you pull out your phone to snap a photo of the two angels next to each other. You’re just putting your phone away when you feel something cold and hard pelt you in the leg. You look over to see Jeonghan with a mischievous grin on his face, already aiming his next snow ball.

You quickly bend down to grab snow and form your own ammo, while also trying to dodge the onslaught of Jeonghan’s. You two go back and forth, throwing snow at each other, before Jeonghan finally ambushes you and grabs you by the waist and tackles you down into the snow.

You two are breathing heavily as Jeonghan hovers over you. There’s a twinkle in his eye and snow in his hair and you think that this might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen Jeonghan. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you reach up and grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to connect your lips to his.

Jeonghan melts into you, kissing you back. You two lay there in the snow, kissing, until you hear commotion next to you.

“Ewww.” You both pull apart to see your little brother standing over you two. You and Jeonghan both blush and Jeonghan climbs off of you before helping you up. “I’m getting cold, can we go back home now?”

Neither you nor Jeonghan make eye contact as you grab the sleds. Jeonghan gives your brother a piggyback on the way home when you get inside your brother pulls Jeonghan off to go play video games together. You’re grateful for the break, still a bit flustered from your intense kiss earlier.

You’re luckily able to ignore the boy for the most part for the rest of the day, until it’s time to go to bed. You and Jeonghan shuffle around each other awkwardly until you decide to finally bite the bullet.

“Hey, about the kiss earlier, I’m sorry. I-”

“No, it’s okay!” Jeonghan cuts you off. “Don’t worry I uh…I liked it.”

“O-oh, okay,” you mumble.

Neither of you say anything else as you two climb into bed. You’re not sure if you should move closer to Jeonghan until he reaches over to tug you towards him. You slot yourself into his arms, and you hope he can’t feel your heart beating a million beats per second.

You’re glad you didn’t make anything weird with Jeonghan, but now you’re afraid you may have made things a lot more complicated for yourself.

“You two are on cookie duty,” your mom tells you and Jeonghan as she bustles around the kitchen. She’s been stressed since you two woke up. You suppose that’s fair when it’s Christmas Eve, and it gives you a good reason to not think about you and Jeonghan.

“Can I help? I want to make cookies for Santa!” Your little brother exclaims.

“If you want to, buddy,” you tell him.

“Yay!”

“There’s a recipe book in the cupboard, and I should have picked up all of the ingredients the other day,” your mother continues.

“We’ve got it Mom, no stressing, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Pumpkin.” Your mom kisses your cheek before running off to finish errands.

You clap your hands together. “Let’s get to baking.”

There’s several cookies your mom has requested you to make and you get to work on the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, while Jeonghan works on the sugar cookies. The chocolate chip cookies are fairly easy and you’re able to pop them into the oven while Jeonghan and your brother are cutting out shapes into the sugar cookies.

“This one is shaped as a snowflake,” your brother explains to Jeonghan as he stamps the dough.

“Ah, I see,” Jeonghan says and you grin. You work around them as you grab the flour to start making gingerbread.

Right as you’re walking past Jeonghan, he spins around, running into you and getting a cloud of flour all over both of you. You can hear your little brother giggling as Jeonghan huffs a laugh.

“You know, darling, this is pretty cliche,” Jeonghan says, still grinning.

“It would only be cliche if I smear frosting on the tip of your nose,” you tell him, continuing to walk past. “But, don’t count that out yet.”

By the afternoon the house is warm and filled with the sweet scent of baked goods. The cookies are cooled and all three of you have already sneaked one or two for yourselves as you sit down to decorate. Your brother has been given the task of frosting the sugar cookies for Santa, while you and Jeonghan get to work building a gingerbread house.

“Look, not to brag, but I’ve come in second place every year for my family’s gingerbread house contest.”

“Second place? Why not first?” You snicker.

“Because my cousin is an architect, okay. It’s called an unfair advantage.”

You giggle once more. “If you say so, Hannie. Here, you can make the shingles with these.”

The two of you work in harmony, decorating the little house with all of the candy. When the house is finished you two move onto making the little gingerbread man.

“Look at little Hannie,” Jeonghan says, holding up the gingerbread man he just made. It’s decorated to look like Jeonghan, even done with his signature smirk.

“Very cute,” you tell him. “But your hair isn’t that long anymore.” You reach over and swipe some of the icing used to make his hair off of the cookie before reaching up to smear it on Jeonghan’s nose.

“Oh I see,” Jeonghan hums, doing his best to keep the grin off his face.

“I told you, don’t count it out yet.”

Before you can even stop him, Jeonghan is dipping into the bowl of frosting and swiping a streak over your cheek. You squeal as Jeonghan grins proudly.

“There, now we’re even.” You fake pout at Jeonghan slightly and he playfully rolls his eyes before leaning in and kissing your cheek, right over the icing. When he pulls away, he’s licking his lips. “I’m sorry, but revenge just tastes so sweet, darling.”

It’s your turn to playfully roll your eyes now, not at all upset with Jeonghan’s antics.

You finish up your gingerbread self as well and place it next to Jeonghan’s in front of the house. Jeonghan pushes his towards yours even more, so their hands touch. “Look, they’re now holding hands.”

“You’re so stupid,” you tell him, but you’re smiling.

“You like that I’m stupid,” Jeonghan teases.

“Maybe…but only a little bit,” you say, but it’s enough to make Jeonghan grin from ear to ear.

It's a Christmas tradition in your house to spend Christmas Eve watching everyone’s favorite Christmas movies, and this year your brother is actually able to make a suggestion.

“Jeonghan, sweetie, you get to suggest a movie as well,” your mother tells him as she readies the hot chocolate.

“Really? I wouldn’t want to impose?”

“You should know by now you’re not imposing, and if anything, it’s Christmas Eve, you deserve to have some cheer as well. It will be nice to have something new in the lineup of movies.”

Your mom starts to pour the hot chocolate into mugs before sliding the reindeer shaped mug towards your brother. It’s his favorite cup to use, even when it’s not the Christmas season, though it was originally gifted to you.

“No Mom, let Jeonghan have it.” Your brother declares as he pushes the mug towards Jeonghan.

“For me? Thank you!”

You lean in towards Jeonghan. “He must really like you. He doesn’t even let me use that mug, and it belongs to me.”

After the hot chocolate and cookies have been passed out to everyone (and your brother has set some out for Santa), you all move into the living room. Your parents sit in their chairs and your little brother places himself on the floor right in front of the TV. You and Jeonghan move over to the couch where you naturally slot yourself into his arms, you two cuddling up together as you throw a blanket over your laps.

The first movie of the night is your brother’s choice, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It’s a classic and you can’t be mad at the choice. The whole time Jeonghan keeps making jokes only loud enough for you to hear and you keep giggling, causing your brother to glare at you, causing you to elbow Jeonghan in his side.

“You better not distract me when we’re watching my movie,” you warn Jeonghan.

Jeonghan throws his hands up in fake surrender. “Oh darling I wouldn’t dare.”

Your favorite Christmas movie is A Charlie Brown Christmas and you make your family watch it every year. For you, it never gets old, and you watch it with what can only be described as stars in your eyes. You know Jeonghan finds it amusing, but you can’t help your love for all things Peanuts and something about that silly little Christmas tree brings you joy.

Instead of your parents choosing a movie, Jeonghan gets to choose this year, and you’re thankful you don’t have to watch your dad’s choice, A Christmas Story. Instead Jeonghan chooses the Jim Carey version of The Grinch, which makes you grin wide.

“That’s my second favorite Christmas movie. Did you know that?”

“Nope, I guess we just have great taste, darling.”

“Of course we do. I mean, we’re dating each other,” you flirt and you watch Jeonghan duck his head in embarrassment.

Jeonghan shifts his position so you’re sitting in between his legs, leaning back against him. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. It’s cozy and your heart feels full at the moment.

You know none of it is real, that it’s all fake for something as trivial as birth control, but right now, you so desperately want it to be real. Enough that you’ll let yourself believe it is, even if it’s just for a moment.

It’s late when the movie is finished and your brother is doing his best to keep his eyes open.

“Hey little man, if you don’t go to bed soon, Santa won’t come,” you tell him as you pick him up in your arms.

“B-but Santa has to come,” he mutters in a sleepy voice.

“Well then let us put you to bed.” You carry your brother to his bedroom, Jeonghan following you behind.

“What if I can’t sleep? Is Santa still going to come?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sleep, buddy. Do you want us to read you a story?”

“Please?”

“Hey Han, there’s a copy of The Night Before Christmas in my room, could you go grab it?” You ask Jeonghan and he nods. He comes back a few minutes later, holding the book. He settles next to you on the bed and you hold the book open for your little brother to see.

You and Jeonghan take turns narrating the book until your little brother’s eyes droop down and he’s fast asleep. You and Jeonghan quietly sneak out of the room and slip into yours. Due to the presents being hidden in your room, it’s your turn to play Santa.

You and Jeonghan carry the presents to the living room before placing them under the tree. It looks picture perfect when you two are done. You and Jeonghan move over to the plate of cookies set out before both grabbing one and tapping them together.

“Cheers,” Jeonghan says.

“Cheers, to our success at playing Santa.” You both bite into your cookies, making sure to leave crumbs on the plate for your brother to see in the morning. You split the glass of milk, leaving a few drops at the bottom.

“Look.” Jeonghan points up and you catch sight of the spring of mistletoe. Your family has never been ones to do mistletoe and you wonder if your mom put it up this year just because she knew Jeonghan was going to be with you.

You’re surprised you didn’t see it earlier, but to be fair you haven’t been home much the past few days, and even when you have you haven’t been near the fireplace.

Right then the clock in your house strikes midnight, and you lean in to kiss Jeonghan. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him, as you cup his face. You two kiss for what you’re sure is much longer than it needs to be before pulling away.

“Merry Christmas, Jeonghan.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Santa! Santa, Santa, Santa! Santa was here!” You wake up to screaming and you barely have time to process what is happening when your bedroom door is flung open and there’s a tiny body attacking you and Jeonghan.

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” you mumble as Jeonghan yawns loudly. “We’ll be there in a second.”

“You better be.” With that your brother leaves and you and Jeonghan decide it’ll be best if you two make your way into the living room.

Your parents are both already in the living room, both of them looking tired as well. Your brother is eagerly sitting in front of the tree, inspecting each present as he waits for you and Jeonghan to shuffle over to the couch. Jeonghan sits down and you practically sit on his lap with how close you get to him, cuddling into his side, wishing you were still asleep.

“Merry Christmas! Say hi to the camera,” your dad says as he holds his phone up to record your little brother.

“Hi!” He says while waving enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! Can I open my presents now?”

Your mom chuckles before telling him to do so.

You watch with half interest as your brother opens his presents, doing your best to wake up. Jeonghan is warm against you, though, and it makes you more sleepy. It isn’t until your brother is almost done opening his presents from Santa that you’re awake.

As soon as your dad has picked up all of the wrapping paper, you move towards the tree to open your own presents. It’s nothing much, as you really only asked for clothes and a few other things for your apartment. The life of a college student.

When you’ve thanked your parents for your presents you hand them their presents from you. You’re satisfied at the giddy your little brother has for the dinosaur book you got him and he gives you a giant hug.

“Pumpkin, what’s that present left under the tree?” Your mom points at the final present under the tree.

“It’s my present for Jeonghan,” you say as you pick it up and hand it to the boy.

“You got me something?” Jeonghan asks you, a bit of awe in his face.

“Of course.” You sit down next to him and press a kiss to his cheek. “I hope you like it.”

Jeonghan rips the wrapping paper off to reveal the Lego set underneath, and Jeonghan gasps. There’s an excited grin on his face as he looks between the box and you.

“You got me this?”

“Yeah, I noticed the sets in your room and thought you’d like this. I know you play the bass but-”

Jeonghan cuts you off by lunging forward and kissing you. You melt into him, reciprocating the kiss. When you pull back, there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

“Oh, let me take a photo!” Your mom exclaims. “Go stand in front of the tree.”

You know there’s not fighting your mom and you pull Jeonghan over. You press your sides together, smiling at the camera. Your brother wants on as well so you two pick him up and hold him between you two.

“Aww, my babies, you guys look so cute! Okay, now who wants breakfast?”

You’re standing on your back porch, watching the snow fall, when you hear steps approaching. When you turn around you’re not surprised to see Jeonghan approaching you.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything for Christmas. Let alone a Lego set.”

You shrug. “I wanted to. You’re doing this for me, and I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation.”

“Well thank you. It means a lot to me.” Jeonghan moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you. You accept his hug, snuggling into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything for you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to. You just being here is enough.”

Jeonghan pulls away from you slightly, so he can look you in the eyes. You can see him struggling to say what he wants to, before he eventually just spits it out. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“I…I’ve really enjoyed the past week, and it’s made me realize I need to be honest with you. I really like you, and I have since we first met. We had that first date which ended in us having sex, and when you never brought up a second date I kind of figured you just wanted to keep it on a physical level. I didn’t mind, but I guess I always kind of wanted it to be more,” Jeonghan admits. “And being here, and spending all this time together and not having sex, it kind of made me realize just how much I like you.”

You can feel your heart beating in your chest as Jeonghan speaks. He likes you. Yoon Jeonghan likes you, and has had a crush on you since you first met. The notion makes your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You stare at him, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold and white snowflakes dotting his black hair. He looks like an angel.

“I understand if you don’t like me back, but I needed to tell you that. I’m not sure what this means for us but-”

It’s now your turn to cut Jeonghan off with a kiss. Your hold on him tightens as you pull him into you and Jeonghan eagerly accepts. He moves his hands to cup the back of your neck, holding you gently as he deepens the kiss. You’re both a little breathless when you pull apart and Jeonghan has a giant smile on his face.

“I like you too. A lot. And being here made me realize I want this to be real, if you do too.”

“Yes. I would love that.”

“Well then, I hate to inform you that I don’t think we can be fake dating anymore, as I have a very real boyfriend.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. And he’s very handsome and talented and a very good kisser.”

“Well it’s a good thing I also have a very real girlfriend, who is also a very good kisser.” Jeonghan’s face gets closer to yours as he talks before he leans in fully at the end, kissing you once more.

“Your father and I are going to go look at Christmas lights with your brother. Would you two like to join?” You mom pokes her head into your bedroom where you and Jeonghan are cuddled up on your bed, watching a movie.

You've been spending the day just enjoying each other's presence. You've also been answering sporadic texts from your friends, asking about you and Jeonghan after your Instagram post earlier.

You posted the photo of you kissing his cheek in the ice rink, the photos your mom took this morning, and a photo of your gingerbread men holding hands, captioned My favorite present this year ♡. Your friends have been hounding you about it since.

You glance at Jeonghan and down at your laptop before turning to your mom.

“I think we’ll just stay here,” you tell her.

She just smiles at you two. “Okay, have fun. We’ll probably be gone for a few hours.” Neither you nor Jeonghan miss the wink she sends you two.

You can hear the garage door open and close as your family leaves and you and Jeonghan both glance at each other. You’re not quite sure what the rules are on how long you should wait to have sex after becoming a couple, but then again, it’s not like you and Jeonghan haven’t fucked before.

“Do you want to-”

“You know just because we-”

You both stop talking when you realize the other one is. You gesture for Jeonghan to continue.

“Just because we’re now officially dating, doesn’t mean we can’t still have sex,” Jeonghan says. “Unless you want to wait.”

“No, I actually was going to ask if you uh, wanted to have sex.” You almost feel awkward, talking about it, like you two haven’t been hooking up on the regular for over a year.

You’re relieved of the uncomfortableness as soon as Jeonghan turns to kiss you. After a week of kissing for show, it’s nice to finally kiss him for yourself. As strange as it might be, it feels nice to kiss Jeonghan like this. Though you’re excited to see where dating Jeonghan takes you, hooking up is how you know him best.

Jeonghan moves your laptop off your laps and climbs on top of you, pressing you into the bed. Though you’re used to sleeping with Jeonghan, there’s still a new air to this. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jeonghan so eager to fuck you, but you can’t say you’re complaining at all.

Your lips slide together, deepening the kiss, as Jeonghan’s hand ghosts your waist. You can feel his tongue swipe against your lips right as he starts to push his hand up under your shirt. You gasp when you feel his hand grope your tits and Jeonghan takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You whimper as you feel his hand slide under your bra as well, his fingers playing with your nipples. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth and you suck on it slightly before pulling away all together. As you take a moment to catch your breath, Jeonghan moves down to suck at your neck.

“F-fuck, Hannie,” you whine.

“So pretty, darling,” Jeonghan mutters.

You push Jeonghan off of you slightly, so you can remove both your shirt and bra. With your chest now bare, Jeonghan takes the liberty of wrapping his lips around your nipple. He flicks the bud with his tongue, while his hand shows the other one some love. Your body arches up into his touch as you feel your cunt clench down around nothing, desperate to have him inside of you.

Jeonghan must realize this as well, and he pops his mouth off of you. “Want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you beg. You wiggle your hips a bit and Jeonghan chuckles as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and slides both your pajama pants and underwear off in one go. Like he’s on autopilot, Jeonghan reaches down and starts to rub at your clit with two fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already. Do you want my fingers or my mouth?”

“D-don’t care,” you mutter, already enjoying the pleasure of his fingers pressed against you. “Pick one. Both. Whatever. Just please, don’t stop touching me.”

You gasp a bit when Jeonghan pushes your legs apart even further, allowing himself to slip in between them. He leans down and starts to kiss your thighs, leaving small nips every once in a while. When it’s clear you’re too impatient for this, Jeonghan closes the gap between his mouth and your pussy, pressing a kiss to your entrance. From there, it only gets messier as Jeonghan darts his tongue out to lap at your arousal. He licks a thick strip along your slit, stopping at your clit so he can wrap his lips around it. You moan as you feel him suck on the bud.

His hands are holding on tight to your thighs, keeping them apart. His tongue swirls around your clit and you buck your hips up as your hands fly to grip onto the sheets. You’re sure you look pathetic, but you don’t care if it means you can get head this good.

His mouth switches between sucking your clit and licking at your entrance. You’re dripping slick now, even as Jeonghan licks it up. He buries his face between your thighs deeper, and you’re sure his face is a mess now. He drags his teeth against your sensitive clit and you whine loudly.

Jeonghan seems to be happy with his affect on you and he finally gives attention to how empty you feel. His finger rubs your slit for a second before he pushes it inside of you. You’re completely drenched and his finger glides in with ease, allowing him to slide a second one in not long after.

His mouth is still working at your clit as he fucks a third finger into you. He thrusts them deeper each time, curling them back to hit the soft spot of your walls. It pays off to have someone know your body so well, and you can already feel your brain going fuzzy as Jeonghan knows all the right places to hit.

Your abs tighten as you can feel yourself approaching your orgasm. Your thighs clamp down around Jeonghan’s head as a warning, and then you’re shaking as you reach your high. You moan freely, your hands grasping at the sheets, as Jeonghan continues to work you through it.

When your body has calmed down, you sink into the bed, allowing yourself to rest for a moment. Jeonghan has finally come up for air, his whole face shiny with your arousal. You grab him a tissue and he wipes off his mouth and fingers.

“You’re turn,” you whisper as you push Jeonghan down onto the bed. He’s still completely dressed you and push his shirt up to kiss down his stomach before pulling down his pants and underwear like he did to you.

His cock springs free, fully hard and leaking. You slot yourself between his legs and waist no time taking the tip in between your lips. You suck gently before working your way down his length. After doing this many times, you’ve had practice taking him, and you can completely get his whole cock down your throat.

Though Jeonghan isn’t very blessed in the girth department, his cock is the longest you’ve ever been with, being able to reach deep inside you and down your throat. You bob your head up and down, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, before you pop off his cock, wrapping your lips around the shaft as your hand fondles his balls.

Your tongue darts out so you can run it against his cock, swirling it around the rim of his tip. You can hear the stuttered breathing of Jeonghan above you, as you back to sucking at the head of his cock. His pre-cum coats your tongue, and you have to admit, the salty taste brings you joy.

“G-gonna cum,” Jeonghan mumbles before he’s spilling his load right into your mouth. You do your best to catch it all, but some still slips out and drips down your chin, which you think makes Jeonghan cum even harder. “Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

You pull your mouth off of Jeonghan, swallowing the rest of the cum in your mouth, and Jeonghan groans. You crawl back up to Jeonghan’s face, kissing him. If the fact you just had his dick in your mouth bothers Jeonghan, he doesn’t show it.

“Need you in me, Hannie,” you tell him.

“Okay baby,” Jeonghan responds. He flips you over, so you’re laying on your back. He removes his shirt, so you’re both completely naked, before leaning down to kiss you again.

You’re not sure how his cock is still hard, despite just cumming, but you can’t complain when you feel him rubbing his tip against your slit. His kiss deepens as he pushes inside of you, your walls clenching down to mold against his cock.

You try to relax, but he feels so good sliding into you. After a moment he’s fully inside of you, his tip pressed snug up against your cervix. Jeonghan slowly slides out of you before slamming back in. Your pussy is soaking wet and you’re sure Jeonghan’s cock is drenched, if the wet squelch was any indicator.

Jeonghan starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, building up his pace as he goes. Your thighs hug his hips as you wrap your legs around him and your fingers dig into his back. You can feel his mouth suck at your collarbone as he slams into you harder.

His cock reaches deep in you, the drag of his cock against your walls causing your brain to go even more incoherent. All you can think about is Jeonghan and his body against yours and his cock fucking you so good. There’s a reason you’ve let him hit with no strings attached for so long, it’s just even better now that you can fully call him yours.

“You feel so good around me,” Jeonghan mumbles into your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

“Love your cock,” you mumble back. “So deep inside.”

“Fuck, need you to ride me.”

You and Jeonghan take a moment to reposition and then you’re bouncing in his lap. Your grip onto his shoulders tight for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. His cock hits as a new angle in this position and all you can do is moan like a bitch in heat.

Jeonghan reaches down and grabs onto your ass, guiding you up and down his cock as he squeezes the flesh. Your tits are bouncing wildly in Jeonghan’s face and he leans forward, sucking one into his mouth. You throw your head back as your eyes flutter close, lost in your pleasure.

Your thighs get tired at some point and you start to just grind against him, his cock curving up into you at just the right angle. Jeonghan can sense your neglected clit and he reaches down to start rubbing circles into it. Your cunt clenches down, and both you and Jeonghan can tell you’re about to cum soon.

“Need your cum, Hannie,” you tell him, your words slurring together. “Fill me up.”

“Anything for you, darling,” Jeonghan says, half delirious himself.

It only takes one final jerk of your clit to have you trembling around him. Your pussy walls fluttering against his cock as you fall forward against Jeonghan, your body twitching as you cum. You can feel Jeonghan’s cock throbbing inside of you as he cums as well, filling you full of his seed.

You both lay like that for a while, with Jeonghan still inside of you as you exchange soft kisses. When it’s clear you need to get up, you slowly lift yourself off of Jeonghan’s cock, and you can feel his cum slide out of you.

“Fuck, we need to wash my sheets,” you mumble.

“Okay, but let’s cuddle for just a bit longer.” And well, you can’t say no to that.

“Oh, we hate to see you two go,” you mom says as Jeonghan finishes putting your things into your car. “Visit soon, okay? And bring Jeonghan as well.”

“Yes Mom, I will.” You lean in to hug her.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you guys over break,” Jeonghan tells your mom and she pulls him into a hug as well.

“Thank you for being such a good guest. And for being such a good boyfriend to our Pumpkin. Visit soon, okay sweetheart?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan smiles at your mom.

“Bye-bye!” Your little brother says as he hugs your leg. You reach down and pick him up so you and Jeonghan can hug him in between you two. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Bye, buddy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Seen you soon!” You let him down and he runs off.

“Text me as soon as you get to your apartment.”

“I will. Okay, we really have to go.”

“I love you,” your mom says as she kisses your cheek.

“I love you too.”

“Okay bye Pumpkin, bye Jeonghan.” You both wave before climbing into the car.

As you take off you reach over and grab Jeonghan’s hand.

“Well it seems this was a successful trip,” Jeonghan says.

“Very,” you agree.

You not only got a boyfriend, but now you don’t ever have to tell your mom you lied to her to get on birth control. It’s really a win-win situation in your eyes.

You glance over at Jeonghan to see him already staring back at you. Yeah, it truly is a win.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 day

Text

the pro

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored.

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.

Art Donaldson.

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.

“We’ll start with the basics.”

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”

“Lily?”

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”

“...He seems to be pretty busy.”

“He is.”

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.

“It shows, you know,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.

“Just good?” He plies.

“The best. A real pro.”

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”

“She’s killing it.”

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.”

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.

It spurs you to lunge a little too far.

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.

“What hurts?”

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

“How’s the ankle?”

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”

“Good enough to walk on?”

Hardly.

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.

I invited Art.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.

“Almost ready in here?” He asks.

“All set!”

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.

“Wanted to come say hi.”

“Well. Hi.”

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.

“Thanks for the invite.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.

“He isn’t taking care of you.”

“My ankle is fine.”

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.

“Condom?” He asks.

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.”

“Sssh.”

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”

“Art—”

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.

“Can I see you?”

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him.

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.

“Where?”

“I’ll send an address.”

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.

“...You regret it?” He asks.

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.

“Is this Lily?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.

“Art?��

“Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

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lovingache · 21 days

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anyways, just thinking about how deep ren’s obsession with angel must already be with how willing he is to give them everything.

how long must he have been watching you? studying the places you go to in your spare time, your favourite everything, trying to find the courage to speak to you but never knowing what to say— i mean, what could he even ask that he doesn’t already know about you? so he waits and bides his time until it’s just the right, orchestrated moment that’ll ensnare you into his life :)

can you imagine him searching for your favourite snacks and belabouring how he’s supposed to give them to you without being creepy? :) or trying not to reference inside jokes you might have with moth since he’s always listening to you? :)) i bet he’s imagined the look on your face when he just suddenly knows what you like or don’t like, what you need, and nearly collapses the first time he sees it for real :)!

or maybe he’ll reach a breaking point and just trap you in his apartment, making up some sort of story about how unsafe your building is and how it’s simply better for you to stay with him.

don’t mind the blood on the marble, angel, it’s just from him practicing cooking your favourite meals :) he can be so clumsy sometimes! all those burn marks and cuts on his arms are just from him practicing being the perfect boyfriend for you :))) certainly not from his v̷̢̻̘͉̜͂̿ͅĭ̷̢̊̓̈̍͝_̵̴̫̝͖̭̿̈̉͟͟c̶͖̗͖͓̬̖̮͖͍͛͑͛͐ͤ̓ͬ̑̔t̶̨̨͉̗̱̯̤̯̩̝̪͛ͬ̊̂̉͒ͭ̓ͯ̀͘͟͠͡i̶̵̤̰̳̬̫ͧ͐̃ͫ̉ͫͤ̉͌ͯͩ̂̀̾ͯ̊̚̚͟ͅm̙͙̺̞̙̮ͥ̽̆͝͞ͅs̵̥͈̣̱̳̙̦͍̓͛͆̀̔ͅ!

you believe him don’t you, angel ? :) ah, it doesn’t really matter if you do. soon enough, you won’t have a choice <3

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prince-kallisto · 2 months

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Crowley’s Gibier (A Follow-Up to the Soup Theory)

In the Magic Assault Practice event, Crowley begins with a speech that lasts four minutes- much like the Culinary Crucible event! But what truly shocked me was how he begins this event talking about how he visited a “gibier speciality restaurant.” This seemed like just him making an excuse to speak about food, but then Crowley begins getting oddly specific about the handling of gibier.

Gibier is wild game meat (aka animals hunted in the wild) which is Crowley’s favorite food!

But then, Crowley gets into more detail aboht the background process of handling such meat. He says “that the meat would get tough and smell foul if it’s not treated properly, in a process that requires techniques based on experience.”

He also says something along the lines of “there are many situations in which difficult decisions must be made on-site, and it is not something that can learned overnight,” and that it’s true craftsmanship that he’s in love with.

HM??

As the title to this theory suggests, this is a follow up to a previous theory regarding the significance of soup to Crowley, and why he repeatedly mentions it. I highly, highly recommend reading that previous theory first, as it gives far more context to what I’m talking about now! In that post, I mentioned that Crowley’s preference for wild meat, and the implications that he can eat inedible things like a crow/raven could, reminded me a lot of General Lilia’s habits of cooking rats and lizards. As soldiers on the field, they would have had to hunt for their meat in the wild, aka wild game.

So why does Crowley speak so heavily in several lines in the preparations of this, especially in how it’s based on experience? They way Crowley speaks of the smell and texture seems to imply that he’s experienced handling wild game himself many times before in order to gain this experience.

Crowley himself says that gibier/wild game involves handling several types of meat. This can include pheasants, quails, deer/venison, waterfowl, rabbit, hare, squirrel, elk, alligator etc. etc. Crowley doesn’t specify which type he is familiar with, but if he does indeed have first hand experience with the handling of freshly hunted meat, then I will safety assume that it includes some species of bird and some land animals.

It is also uncertain if the meat he is referring to is truly fresh from the hunt (meaning it would have to be plucked/skinned), or already prepared through machinery. But then, when Crowley says “there are many situations where difficult decisions must be made on-site,” it makes me think that he’s referring to the meat truly fresh from the hunt. And because he refers to treating and processing, I feel more positive on this idea!

Tw for mentions of deer preparation (not detailed) post-hunt all in the one paragraph below

I will be using deer/venison as an example, since it’s one of the most types of wild game. But Crowley says the meat would smell foul and be tough if not treated properly. I’m assuming he’s referring to the “dressing” of the meat, which means gutting the animal and then cooling the meat. Since Crowley refers to difficult decisions made on site, dressing a deer has to be soon or else there is the high risk of the meat spoiling and smelling foul and becoming slimy. Deer does indeed has a strong “gamey” smell, but the meat actually spoiling is what Crowley may be referring to. The temperature of the site you are working in is a huge factor in this, and the gutting is necessary to get rid of the body heat inside the deer. In just 20 minutes, there can be a huge spread in bacteria which can end up spoiling the meat and making it unsafe to eat. Magic in this world certainly helps with the cooking factor, as ice can be conjured up easily. But back to the difficult decisions, just a different of 10 degrees (Fahrenheit btw) can make a huge difference in the urgency that a deer would have to be taken care of. Additionally, the shot placement can have a huge impact on how quickly the bacteria may spread, necessitating quick work in gutting. And then Crowley refers to “processing,” meaning the deer would have to skinned and aged and cut, where a lot of other decisions would have to made too.

Now, Crowley being an gibier enthusiast may give him the knowledge of what gibier is supposed to taste like, but I was truly shocked at his words perhaps implying that he’s done it himself to the point of gaining experience.

But then I remembered General Lilia speaking of how he doesn’t care much for more refined cooking and meals. It was to the point that Meleanor complained of the dried meat was hard and salty. Dried is of course tougher and high in sodium, but there can be a lot of mistakes made when drying the meat. Over drying it can make the meat lose far too much moisture and become brittle, which sounds even worse if it was over salted. This, or his cuts of meat were too inconsistent, causing some slices to be taste over salted if they were cut too thinly. Lilia is also surprised by Silver, Sebek, and Yuu’s cooking as well, where the meat is tender and not dry at all- further implying that the meat he cooks is quite the opposite and just lacking in the detailed preparation Crowley speaks of. (Credits to Otome Ayui for the translation 🙏💖🐦‍⬛)

Lilia then says that after the dried meat fiasco, Levan summoned a pot to make soup. Now I am wondering if Levan made the soup from the dried meat/jerky. To fix overly salty dried meat, the salty coating can be rinsed, but sometimes when it’s so tough that rinsing it can’t fix it, it can be a great addition to *soup.* The soaking would rehydrate the meat and lessen the intensity of the sodium, while also providing a good flavor to the soup. So Levan could’ve fixed this situation with the easy solution- because he has the knowledge and experience to do so!

NAIFJZJDJCF THIS COULD BE ONE OF THE “DIFFICULT DECISIONS MADE ON SITE” THST CROWLEY WAS REFERRING TO!! If they already had dried meat, it would be too time consuming to try and gather more food. So Levan took this bad situation of overly salty and tough meat, and repurposed it inside the soup he prepared…it was quick and experienced thinking on his end!!!

BUT THEN, in Crowley’s personal story with his new SSR card, he speaks AGAIN about wild game meat! Vargas shares this trait with him- which makes sense since he twisted from Gaston. But Crowley is not only familiar with deer meat, but many other kinds as well, reaffirming what I said above regarding his experience. This scene is also where he’s eating meat pie. And back to his speech in the Magic Assault Practice event, he mentions that he frequents restaurants specializing in gibier (Credits to Otome Ayui again!!)

I am a firm believer that Crowley’s mentions of food is significant to his story. Food is prominently presented in Twisted Wonderland as vital to the character’s backstories and even their relationship with other characters, which fits the belief in psychology that food is related to memories of an experience- instead of just the actual flavor.

(This below is copied from the previous theory I was mentioning just because I think it’s a really important point):

“Think of what the strawberry tart meant to Riddle, for example. Of the tart's forbidden sweetness, of how he disobeyed his mother just wanting to be with his friends. Or even Malleus with his disliked food being "full-sized birthday cake" and his favorite being shaved ice, and how these experiences came from being alone on his birthday!”

“TWST uses food in their storytelling very deliberately- not only for backstory/memories but for character relationships. Think of how Cater pretended to like sweet things when in actuality he despised them and only Trey noticed it (relating to his own personality of being trendy and cool, but rather detached to the people around him), and sweet things brought back memories of how his sisters used to force him to eat sweets that he didn't even like. OR how Kalim's least favorite food is curry, because Jamil was once put into a coma after taste-testing Kalim's poisoned curry. But hey, even though curry was banned in Kalim's banquets because Kalim was so terrified from the incident, Jamil's favorite food is curry anyway! Or Azul's favorite food being friend chicken disliked food being "healthy foods" despite constantly eating it due to his weight insecurities. Jade and Floyd's favorite foods relating to octopus. Trey and Vil even have stories as to why they hate MUSTARD AND MAYONNAISE”

“This is not just for the students, but for the staff too.Trein's vichyssoise establishes him as a traditional and old-fashioned (and "elegant") man, Vargas' raw eggs and Sam's chicken gumbo connects them to the movies they're twisted from (frog meat is said to have the texture and a bit of the flavor of chicken. So Sam's favorite food being chicken gumbo is a sly way to imply the frogs from the film!)”

“And in the end, there is the soup, the tomatoes stew and juice, and the wild game meat. If something as specific as a full sized birthday cake means something significant to a character, why not the specification of wild game? It's just..interesting that Crowley's mentions of food ties back in some way with the very very few mentions that Lilia makes regarding Levan.”

Okay copy-paste over haha, but I’m just so intensely interested by the recent repeated mentions of Crowley’s wild game. It’s a very, very subtle potential hint- but that’s why I so firmly believe it what I just said above. The soup from the previous theory, and now wild game being mentioned over and over and over again, in his voiceline, the Magic Assault event, and now his personal story- much like the soup that mentioned in the game, novel, AND manga. So…Crowley potentially having first hand experience for preparing wild game on site could mean a lot here.

At first, it may seem like an unexpected decision for his character, but I think with the right context, it could make a lot of sense…he is a crow/raven (these corvids scavenge for obviously raw carcasses), but values the proper preparation of wild game and acknowledges how it is a craft to be valued in itself. He likely has a respect for the nature of these animals, understanding the proper yet difficult care needed for them.

And considering Crowley is such a huge fan of meat, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ate more “unusual” parts of the animals as part of his belief, like the heart, liver, gizzard, tripe, tongue, neck, etc etc. (In many parts of America these are considered unusual haha, but this was not a rare sight to me at all growing up and frequenting cultural markets!) No part of the animal is to be wasted, even if others consider some parts to be “undesirable” and thus thrown away. Animals are not just hunted for their hide or feathers- instead, as many parts of them are saved and utilized as part of the respect for it. And as we see in Briar Valley through Lilia’s dream, the Fae here have a high respect for nature, and part of their hatred for the Silver Owls is their disrespect for it and how they’ve been ruining their land that they live off on and have cared for for centuries. So…perhaps I am looking too deep as usual LMAO, but I really do appreciate the respect given to nature in this way.

And actually, also to my previous theory…it’s becoming more possible that Crowley wanting to eat Grim was not just a joke from him haha…😰 He could be fully capable of actually cooking him in a stew like he says >_> Oh and, the MASTERCHEF Grim card was just dropped for the 4th anniversary…it’s all about food 👀

Anyway, Crowley please cook me a soup yourself. I need to know what your cooking abilities are like…

#twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst levan #twst Lilia #kallistopost #twst theory #twst analysis #twst General Lilia #crowley is levan theory

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tightwadspoonies · 5 months

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Dumpster Diving and Salvage Shopping

If you asked me what my role in the ecosystem is, I'd say I'm a scavenger. I hate confrontation and I hate spending money when there are other options. I will gladly just take whatever you don't want in order to avoid such unsavory obligations.

So dumpster diving, salvage stores, and incidental meat registries and I get along pretty well save for the anxiety. This post, hopefully, takes some of that away for my fellow scavengers who would love to dumpster dive but just don't know how yet, or are afraid of getting in trouble.

Dumpster Diving:

First of all, dumpster diving is legal in all 50 states of the US, but check local ordinances because rich people get fussy about people digging through trash to the point of some cities condemning the practice. It's on a bunch of other posts but it's worth saying.

Cops, of course, will lie or imply otherwise on this. A good way around that is to look like someone who is "not breaking the law". AKA: look like a suburbanite: Wear some khakis and a polo shirt, carry a Starbucks cup, and act as white as you can possibly get away with. If approached, smile, call the cop "officer" or some such referential title, and explain that you thought it was legal. Not that you know it's legal- that you thought it was legal. If they tell you to scram, do so. No argument with law enforcement is worth what is in that dumpster.

Note that it is illegal in many places to put stuff into dumpsters that aren't yours, though, so if the cops are having a slow night, be careful about them asking you to put stuff back.

You also don't want to be the reason dumpster diving gets banned in your community. Do this primarily by never getting into a dumpster. I know the container of perfect strawberries is just out of reach, but if you fall or are unable to get out you are not only up a creek yourself but potentially causing an anti-dumpster-diving frenzy that your town's grocery stores will never recover from. Also, people have legitimately died from getting into a trash compactor.

Now, "legal" does not mean "pro-store-policy". One of the main reasons for this is that is dumpster diving can be somewhat dangerous and no store wants to be the store that's known for letting people break legs on their slippery dumpster juice or what have you.

Avoid too many store policy issues by waiting until the store closes, doing a pass-by to ensure no one is waiting to see if anyone is picking out of their dumpsters, and (again) looking like someone who wouldn't be diving in dumpsters.

Store management tends to worry that they will be sued for letting you eat expired or unsafe food. If you do get approached by a manager who isn't excited to see someone picking over their dumpster selections, it is a good idea to impress upon them how very many dumpsters you pick from and how you wouldn't possibly be able to prove it was their dumpster that gave you food poisoning. Also, if you're feeling particularly bold, let them know that you are saving their store money by decreasing the weight of their waste. Probably not by a lot, but hey, you're on their side here. If told to scram, once again, do so with haste.

On that note, there are safe and unsafe foods to pick:

Generally Safe:

Packaged shelf-stable foods even with damaged outer packaging

Milk if still cold

Cheese

Eggs

Bread (including frozen bread if still cold)

Whole Veggies and Fruits, even with bad spots

Fermented anything

Non-Food Items like dry pet food, hand sanitizer, soap, cleaning products (except bleach), etc...

Generally NOT Safe:

Sliced lunch meats

Cheese touching meat

Cut salads or veggie trays

Prepared hot foods (even if still hot)

Pre-cooked refrigerated meals

Frozen veggies (unless still mostly frozen)

You want to make sure you have some time the next day to process your haul. Everything needs to be carefully sorted, cleaned, peeled, and in the case of perishable food like eggs and veggies, cooked prior to eating.

One final thing:

Be considerate. Leave everything how you found it and make sure you're not making more work for employees. Also, if you know others in your area dive, leave some stuff there for the next person.

Salvage Shopping:

Perhaps you aren't completely up for dumpster diving but still like living your lil raccoon life? Thats fine!

Salvage groceries are a great option. Essentially, instead of throwing food away that they can't sell to traditional consumers, grocery stores sell near-dated or damaged products to salvage grocery stores for pennies on the dollar, and that savings is passed along to the consumer.

Most salvage stores are smaller than traditional grocery stores, and some are cash-only. Some have fresh or frozen sections, but the smaller ones are pretty much all packaged goods. If you are living exclusively on salvage stores, you may want to supplement with some dumpster diving, foraging, or gardening (or even maybe going to a grocery store, but that's hella expensive).

Salvage groceries are not necessarily going to be perfectly food safe. There will be expired goods (doesn't mean bad). That just means you will have to do some due diligence. For example:

Make sure that an item you want to purchase is still in a sealed container

If there are more than one of an item, make sure they are the same color

Prioritize un-dented cans

If you must buy a dented can, make sure the dent isn't on an edge or seam

Don't buy expired canned tomato products

If you open a food and it smells bad, looks like it thawed and re-froze, hisses or bubbles- THROW IT AWAY

Generally be more cautious than you would normally be at a grocery store.

In my area these are pretty much always run by the Amish and Mennonite communities, but check around in your area. They are becoming more and more common outside these communities.

Not all of them will be listed on google maps. Look for a shop called "Bend and Dent" or "Salvage Groceries" or a small store advertising "Discount Groceries". Once you find one, it's easy to find others by asking at the checkout, since they tend to cluster together.

A drawback is that, because they do tend to cluster, they may be farther away than other grocery options. If you are far away, I highly recommend getting a few friends together and making a day of it. I can't say this about most things, but the extra cost in gas is well worth the savings, even if you are driving over an hour.

#free food #food #dumpster diving #USA #homesteading #tightwadery #adulting #reference

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detectivebambam · 25 days

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use this ask to dump all of ur andrew headcanons if u so choose <3 (biting him biting him biting him)

AAAA I LOVE YOU

putting a tw now bc idk what i might get into with him

he was a really shy little kid, but the people he bonded with (john, a special victims agent from Cali, especially) he was very excitable around. he reminds me of Ducky from The Land Before Time

(a little nsfw bc of course) he has superr sensitive skin. all it takes is Neil running his fingers up and down his thighs and calling him pretty for him to lose it

^ praise kink 😋

likes to cuddle but it feels so unsafe that he only does it with Neil. eventually he grows comfortable enough with Kevin, and even Aaron, to steal their laps (and maybe even take a nap)

i took the designated nap time from the EC and ran with it. boy loves his naps. he wakes up, eats breakfast, naps, goes to practice, takes a shower, naps, eats dinner, goes to bed

chubby tummy! i don't think he's overweight per se? but all that ice cream and negative cardio means big muscles and a soft tummy

he has ARFID and BPD. i see so much of me in him, and also, everything in the books and EC that leads me to believe these things

he bonks his head against people he likes to show affection. Wymack's arm gets severely bruised 😔✊

there was a post somewhere about Andrew being deaf in one ear from the car accident. it might've been from my friend @broken-heart-raven-queen ? or @bisexual-chaos-demon but I'm not positive. i know i reblogged it. anyway, i am deaf in one ear too, so i decided it was canon 😌

smokes weed in the off season because it helps calm him down, and makes him forget some stuff

another nsfw: he whines when he bottoms, idc

a lot of people like to foster kids for free house and child care, so i imagine he's very good with kids, a fairly decent cook, clean and lrganized? etc

he's the younger twin by 14 minutes

has epilepsy from a head injury as a child

fav animal: toads and sharks. fav color: blue. fav food: strawberries

#i loved this ask tysm #i love talking about my boy #aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxhole court #andreil #kevin day #aaron minyard

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ilex-opacus · 12 days

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This is it this is the day I go crazy and talk about Akagi Ritsuko for way longer than anyone in 2024 should.

The way I have seen her miscaracterised is so.. so heartbreaking to me. Granted the Eva fandom is huge and I haven't been a part of it for a suuuper long time (I mean, the original fanbase from 30yrs ago is reduced to little more than a bunch of ghost accounts on dead forums by now) but the most common interpretation I see of her is something like this: A cold woman who has buried almost all her feelings for the sake of doing anything Gendo tells her because she's in love with him, who knows what she's doing is wrong, but who doesn't seem to care. A woman who has learned to care so little for the pilots, in particular Rei, who many people even say she hates, who only takes a stand on the "good side" once Gendo has personally scorned Ritsuko's love for him by having her put in solitary isolation.

And to me, that reading if her is just... Well not *wrong*, there aren't any *wrong* interpretations in media... What it is instead is willfully ignorant of so much if her character that proves almost all of that to be untrue.

Like yes, Ritsuko is cold. She's calculating and logical, but that's really about as far as the popular interpretation of her goes. She explains that being overly idealistic isn't something she scorns ("it's a nice way of thinking" directed at Maya and "your outlook is also important" directed at Misato) but something she knows she can't indulge in, otherwise the entirety of NERV's operating force would be hinged too much on personal feelings. Also, it's something she doesn't really know *how* to do. Look at Ritsuko's history -- a girl who practically grew up at NERV HQ, during the Second Impact, living under the constant shadow of a mother who didn't even give her the time of day. They write letters to each other in keigo instead of talking face to face. This is clearly a girl who's been isolated at least since high school, probably longer, who has probably lost so many people due to growing up during a damn extinction event. Someone who admits to being so poor at human connection that she supplements any hope for a family by raising cats, and even then! Even then she has to hand them off to relatives when her work gets too much for her. It's not that Ritsuko is cold and unfeeling because she enjoys it or scorns closeness, it's because she has never had the means or freedom to learn and foster those skills. It's her who introduces the concept of the Hedgehog Dilemma, she knows better than most how much you'll struggle to form bonds if you don't consistently try.

And Misato isn't some beacon of pilot safety either. The idea that she's the nice, sweet, helpful one and Ritsuko is the evil wench driving the pilots to their death is just blatantly incorrect. There are MULTIPLE instances of Misato being the one to endanger pilot safety, and Ritsuko being on the other end discouraging that. Take episode (I think 7 or 8?) where Ritsuko confronts Gendo about using children as pilots. She laments placing all of the burden on them, and spearheads the Dummy Plug system in the hopes it will alleviate that strain. Whereas Misato has made multiple allusions to molesting Shinji, has kissed him fully on the mouth, and seemed completely unaffected by the idea of sinking Asuka to unsafe depths in their fight against the 8th angel. The only difference in how they treat the pilots as child soldiers is that Misato is more vocal about how upset it makes her, whereas Ritsuko, not one to be talkative when it comes to her own feelings, as Misato points out, is not.

More examples of Ritsuko being nice to the pilots include: Teaching Rei and Asuka how to cook at Rei's request so that they can have a dinner together with Gendo and Shinji. Ritsuko sees this child, this child raised inside NERV in near total social isolation, begging for a chance at social contact, and she takes time out of her schedule so busy to the point she doesn't have time to wash her own clothes, to teach Rei how to cook. That brings me onto the next thing, actually, the way she's constantly characterised as despising Rei (specifically because she's "a competitor for Gendo's attention"). I can think of, at most, 2 canon instances where Ritsuko is actually mean to Rei in any specific, targeted, or substantial way. One is when she destroys the Dummy Plug system because, quote "these are just empty vessels, they have no soul. I'm going to destroy them, because I hate them." Which is bonkers to me! Bonkers! Because my IMMEDIATE thought when I first saw that scene was "Oh, of course Ritsuko hates the Dummy Plug system, it's science taken too far, it's a disgrace against life to create soulless husks, of course Ritsuko sees it as science used for too evil a purpose to justify. She hates them because they're inhumane." But somehow everyone took that as "Wow Rei I hate you so much I'm going to kill a bunch of your clones"?? I'm sorry, but since when has Ritsuko been characterised as being so *petty*? I mean, this is a 14 year old girl she's supposedly beefing with here.

The only other instance is when she says "(Unit 00) was definitely trying to kill me" after it goes AWOL during the 11th angel attack, implying Rei (who's soul is inside Unit 00) hates her, presumably because of something shes done. But OF COURSE she thinks that. Of course the head of this operation, who has overseen all of these horrible things, signed off on so many inhumane fights, thinks her soldiers want her dead. I don't think for one second Ritsuko thinks she's a good person. She literally says "you'll learn (that being idealistic is impractical) the first time you feel dirty." She feels guilt over what she does just like I said before, just like Misato does forging forward with this whole operation, she's just more quiet about it.

So why? Why does she do this? You can put Misato's involvement with NERV down to a genuine desire to help, the genuine illusion she's doing humanity good by protecting it. Throw in her half a revenge plot, and you can say she's doing these horrible things for ostensibly just reasons. But Ritsuko knows infinitely more about the inner workings of NERV, to the point it's implied (?) she killed Kaji, one of her only friends, to keep the information safe. People always put it down to just "she loved Gendo, that's why" and yes, frankly, that's a terrible reason. It also, doesn't make sense!

Take Ritsuko, a woman with little to no social fluency, a woman who can bouy herself only on her scientific merit, because remember, she lived in her mother's shadow for most of her life. The only way to ascertain her worth, especially underneath someone as unfeeling as Gendo, was to prove her commitment as a scientist. She didn't *have* anything else, she couldn't have anything else, no matter how much she wants to. A woman that has fought so hard for the approval of Gendo, and imagine you're her. Imagine your own mother won't even speak to you. You don't have any father around and you never mention him, but there is a man your mother seems to love. Odd, considering she doesn't seem to love you in any way that really counts. You'd want his approval too, no? You'd want approval from the man your mother, your overshadowing scientific monolith of a mother, melted back into humanity for. You'd want to prove you were as good as her, that you could enrapture the man she managed to ensnare. Because all you want is for people to see you, recognise you, that's like - THE key theme in evangelion across so many different characters. And remember Ritsuko was a highschooler when she met Gendo, when she found out her mother was having a fling. Imagine you're orphaned soon after, and all you have left is impossibly large boots to fill and this man, this man who is important, talented, and special enough to make your mother look at him, and he's asking you to help him. Of course you would. Of course you would. Because all you want is some human affection, no matter how clinical and predatory it manifests itself.

The line about Ritsuko and Gendo is literally "I wish you'd use my body again, like you did back then." Because Japanese lacks plurals, it can also be read "I wish you'd use my body again, like you did that other time." (In fact, I'm actually more inclined to that one because I see 時 used for singular occurance more than multiple ones, in which case 頃 feels a little more common?) I'm sorry, but you'll never convince me this wasn't grooming. Just look at the situation I described and try and convince me this is shorthand for "she was in love with Gendo." Idolised him, sure. Desperately craved his approval on an intimate and academic level? Yeah. Bit *loved* him? No. And there's certainly no way Gendo felt anything back other than some weird, predatory affection (I mean seriously, Gendo. You knew this woman when she was a high schooler and you were old enough to be banging her mom. There's a lot wrong with you already but now I'm adding perv to the list.)

And the plan he's making you execute, wouldn't you find it captivating too, if you were her? A world where all those emotional roadblocks you've built for yourself finally disappear, a world where you can open your heart and see your mother again, perhaps connect with her for the first time. A world where you don't have to prove your worth as a individual because you'll be part of so much more. A hivemind filled with love, clarity, and pure acceptance. Sure, she's not some virtuous saviour of humanity, but neither is Misato, really. No one who works at NERV can do so with a clear conscience or for an entirely noble cause. What I'm saying is that Ritsuko isn't as shallow as to do all that for Gendo's dick. She has complex, self-rationalised reasoning there like everyone else.

And that just brings me back around to her relationship with Rei. Maybe she does hate Rei, a little bit. Not because she's vying with her for Gendo's attention, because that's stupid. Ritsuko is a piller of calm rationale, of impersonality and reticence. In what world would she possibly be that possessive of anyone, even the man she idolises on a personal and academic level? She isn't even remotely cold or aggressive towards Kaji when he steals away Ritsuko's only friend or actively goes digging for NERV intel, she's KIND to him, welcomes him as much as she's able to with how closed off she's become. She isn't desperate for attention in the outward way someone like Asuka is. She wants Gendo to approve of her, but never exclusively. Id say the only person she's ever in competition with on that front is her own mother.

Rei is just like her. A girl with limited social contact who's only link to some greater sense of being and humanness is through Gendo, of all people. She needs him, depends on him, sticks to him and adores him despite knowing he's mistreating her ("I don't get special treatment. Believe me, I'd know.") She's also been groomed to be Gendo's obedient, grateful puppet, grateful because if not for him, she'd have somehow less. Maybe Ritsuko does resent her. Maybe it's like looking into a mirror at your old self and wishing you could slap sense into the person you used to be. Or maybe it's like looking at the person who made your mother commit suicide in guilt, perhaps. Everyone seems to forget that little detail.

Maybe the Dummy Plug system being destroyed wasn't Ritsuko's personal act of scientific disgust, maybe she hated those lifeless clones because she cares about Rei so much she knows a fate of reanimation into indentured military servitude is worse than death. Maybe a life spent captive under Gendo's grooming is worse than death fighting the angels. Maybe she can't stand the thought of Gendo using a person so many times over, never learning his lesson. Maybe she wanted to take away one of his strategic devices and punish him. But "she just hates Rei that much" seems like too shallow and excuse.

When Ritsuko turns on Gendo, everyone assumes it's because she's finally been personally scorned by him, and has realised he doesn't love her, or that she's angry he's thrown away all the scientific research she's poured into project E and wants to spite him. And okay, maybe those contain a grain of truth, but combined with her destruction of the Dummy Plug system and her asking him as early as episode 7 if using child soldiers is really something they can justify, Ritsuko's betrayal reads to me as a woman who has finally been given a wake up call surrounding the man who has used her for most of her life. Ritsuko is a woman who is closed off by necessity, of course it takes her personally being wronged by him in a massive, obvious way, to realise just how irredeemable he is. It's not "once you hurt me, that's it for you." its "once you hurt me, I can't overlook you hurting everyone else anymore because of how much I idolised you." That's a selfish road to take, sure, but Ritsuko hasn't the social fluency to be less so. Further proof her rebellion isn't just some scorned lover's hissyfit as so many people paint it is that she *continues* to actively work against him, dedicating all her time and skill, for 14 years during the Rebuild movies. She is so dedicated to stopping him that she works with WILLE for 14 damn years. If that's not a woman thoroughly convinced this man needs to be brought down for his crimes, I don't know what is.

Anyway. I have thoughts about Agaki Ritsuko. My beautiful blonde morally grey but still complex and emotionally wounded babe.

#nge #eva #neon genesis evangelion #rebuild of evangelion #ritsuko akagi #akagi ritsuko #ritsuko #misato #misato katsuragi #ikari gendo #gendo ikari #character analysis

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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Special Girl - Part 1

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you're stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you've decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it... or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Chapter WC: 5.6K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn't do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn't wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he's fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part One

Every day feels the same, and that sameness is going to kill you soon. It’s been killing you slowly for years, but today it ends—one way or another. Six months, you’d told yourself. Six more months and you’re done.

You wake up next to the man you call your husband but he feels like a stranger to you. He grumbles as he throws the covers off and rips open the curtains, shoving his boxers down and kicking them into the corner instead of placing them in the hamper like you’d asked him more times than you can count. He showers with the door open, and the sight of his naked body makes you angry. He hasn’t fucked you in 5 months and 29 days, and you almost tell him, “Today’s your last chance, Michael,” but you don’t. You won’t beg for it. Not anymore. He has to want you.

Your 6-year-old son whines and struggles as you try to get him ready for school. Harrison hates school and he hates you for making him go there. You cook their breakfast and pack their lunches while they eat. When they’re done, you pour Dunkin breakfast blend into a crimson travel mug with the Harvard seal emblazoned on it, add just the right amount of 2% milk to turn it from black to caramel, and hand it to your husband. He thanks you with a kiss on the forehead—never the lips—and then leaves for his bright shiny law office in McLean.

You were going to be a lawyer once. You and Michael met at Harvard Law, and you both had the same idealistic dreams back then—you wanted to do immigration law, he wanted to work for the Innocence Project—but then you got pregnant and the smell of money wafting off the white-shoe firms was too tempting for Michael to pass up. You told yourself you’d go back to work once Harrison was older, that you wanted to be a hands-on mom for the first few years of his life, but you knew even then it was a lie you told yourself and everyone else. Seven years at Harvard, all that money and time and hard work, and for what? Washing skidmarked underwear and making PB&J with the crusts cut off.

What a fucking waste. You can hear it in his voice—that gleeful sneering tone that makes your blood run hot. So disappointing, Porkchop. So ordinary. So boring. I thought you wanted more than this. I thought you were special.

But Michael likes you at home. He likes a clean house and a hot meal and a child raised by its mother. He likes that your brain has atrophied in this endless cycle of cook-clean-chauffeur-shop, that you’re no longer smarter than him, that you rely on him for money even though you should be making six figures right now, too. He likes the big, beautiful house in the D.C. suburbs, the senators and lobbyist neighbors, the private schools and the fancy cars. He likes to answer for you when people at dinner parties and cocktail hours ask you what you do for a living: “Oh, she doesn’t work.”

You still don’t know what you did to make him hate you so much. (Actually, you do know, but Michael doesn’t.) It’s not even hate, though—it’s worse, it’s indifference. In some ways it’s so much crueler. At least with hatred, there’s some passion behind it. If you hate someone, it means a part of you still cares, still wants to love them—that maybe a part of you still does. You of all people would know.

You don’t hate Michael; you hate yourself for choosing this life with him—this boring, ordinary life—when you could have had something more. Maybe not what you wanted, who you wanted, but being hurt by him would have felt better than the endless parade of nothing you feel now. Did you ever love Michael? You think you must have at some point but you can’t remember why. Was it because he showed you that love didn’t have to hurt, that you could be more than someone’s dirty little secret? It’s been so long since you felt that way, though. Maybe it’s just another lie you tell yourself.

You drive your son to school and he makes a scene at drop-off, begging you to take him back home. When Harrison is angry, which he is more and more lately, his ocean blue eyes turn stormy. That’s when you see it most clearly—when you see him—and you know the answer to the question you’ve refused to entertain for the last seven years. It wouldn’t matter anyway; he’d made that very clear the first time. You were only ever meant to be a secret indulgence, a toy he could take out of its hiding place and play with and throw away when it bored him. Besides, you know who he is now—what he does. There’s no room for you in his life, and certainly no room for Harrison.

And you’d be fine with that. You would, but he just won’t leave you alone.

You return home and you clean clean clean until everything sparkles and shines. You turn over endless piles of laundry. You pick up dry cleaning and drop off more. You eat a salad. You go to the gym and work it off. As your muscles burn and the sweat drips down your back, you force yourself to remember what it felt like to carry all that weight. Your body is screaming at you to stop but you keep going. Another pound or two, you think, and maybe my husband will touch me.

But that’s not why you work out—not really. You do it because you like the pain. You miss it. You haven’t felt that good pain in years but your body remembers it, remembers him.

Even when Michael was interested in fucking you, it was never what you wanted. There was no passion to it, nothing primal and animal that told you that he absolutely had to have you. Michael’s go-to move was poking you in the leg and saying, “Wanna do it?” and then engaging in bare-minimum foreplay before 15 minutes of missionary with the lights off. You could set a clock by it, but you told yourself it was ok because it was what you deserved. It was the punishment for your crimes, and living with it was your form of atonement. At least he made you cum sometimes.

But not like he did. Never like he did.

You shower at the gym and leave to pick up Harrison. It’s a Wednesday and he has Pee Wee football practice after school so you’re greeted with a smile instead of a scowl. Besides for pizza and superheroes, football is the only thing that makes your son truly happy, but for you it’s just hours and hours of practices and games and more laundry to do and the disapproving stares of the other mothers when Harrison breaks the no tackling rule. He’s big for his age already—tall and broad, built tough—and the rules of flag football mean nothing to him. One more hit, the coach had told you last week, and he’s out.

You sit at the far end of the bleachers, away from the other mothers and their death stares. They’ve all complained to the coach and you don’t blame them—if it was your son getting hurt instead of doing the hurting, you would feel the same way. You say a quick prayer to whatever god is listening that Harrison plays by the rules today and then you check your email on your phone. You’ve got a few Amazon shipping updates, a check-up reminder from Harrison’s dentist, and a message from the alumni association reminding you that the Harvard-Yale game is next weekend. You delete that one as aggressively as possible, and when you return to your inbox, there’s a new message.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the sender was spam—just a nonsensical jumble of letters and numbers—but you’ve seen ones just like it many times before. The subject line is blank, and when you open it, there’s just two words: “Hey, Porkchop.” You look up and across the field and you see him standing in the parking lot, leaning against your car with his arms crossed. Your heart starts pounding when you make eye contact and it jumps into your throat when he gives you a cheeky little wave.

You know he’s been watching you. His emails and texts over the years always made it clear that he’s keeping tabs. You never respond but they’ve been more frequent lately. Then six months ago he sent you a picture—-taken through the blinds in your bedroom—-of you and Michael having sex with a one-word message: “Boring.” Ever since you’ve felt his presence. Everywhere you go, you feel his eyes on you. He’s been telling you things he couldn’t possibly know if he wasn’t watching. He’s even started talking about Harrison—”Good looking kid,” he’d said in an email with a picture of Harrison at his first football practice attached. “Looking strong out there.”

You never thought he’d actually show up. You just assumed he’d been taunting you and teasing you and leading you on like he always did. But here he is in the flesh, wearing a black turtleneck and tight white pants and sporting a Tom Selleck mustache that should not be attractive but very much is. You grab your purse and hurry around the field to the lot, and as you approach him, he’s focused on the field, on Harrison.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lloyd?” you whisper-shout at him when you’re close enough.

“Aww, come on, Porkchop.” He looks you up and down and flashes you that smug smile that haunts your dreams. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. “I mean it.”

Lloyd takes you by the elbow and grips your arm hard, dragging you around to the back of your car with a few long strides. No one on the field can see you now, which should frighten you knowing what you know about the man in front of you. But you’re not afraid of him—-at least not like that. Lloyd likes to hurt you in other ways.

“I can be wherever the fuck I want to be,” he snaps. “Besides, I thought you’d be happier to see me. You seem like you could use a little attention.” Lloyd removes his hand from your arm and runs it down your flank, grabbing at your hip and giving it a squeeze. “I gotta say, Porkchop, I liked you better with a little meat on your bones.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” You move to swat his hand away but he catches your wrist and you can’t help but look up into his piercing blue eyes—your son’s eyes. “Let go of me,” you whisper, but you don’t mean it.

He chuckles and drops your wrist, running his hand across his chin. “Alright,” he says, “I’ll play nice.” He leans down close enough that you can feel the icy mint of his breath against your lips. “For now.”

“What do you want, Lloyd?”

“Today’s the day, right? D-Day? Last chance for ol’ Mikey to lay some pipe or you’re through?”

Your mouth drops open but only a tiny squeak comes out. How the fuck does he know that? The only person you told was your therapist.

“Oh, Porkchop. I know you’ve gone stupid on me since you had the kid, but when are you going to get it through your pretty little head that I know everything. I see everything. There isn’t a thing you can do or say or even think that I can’t find out about if I want to.”

“And why do you want to?” The words fly out before you can stop them. “Why the fuck do you even care, Lloyd? Why are you doing this to me?”

He cocks his head to the side and gives you a half smile that makes his dimple pop, and you see that little twinkle in his eyes that comes out to play when he’s feeling especially cruel.

“You know why.”

Lloyd grabs you by the throat and shoves you against the back of your SUV, kissing you so hard and deep that your legs threaten to give out. His thick mustache tickles your nostrils and it’s a new sensation. He was clean-shaven back at Harvard: one of the football team’s rules (and pretty much the only one Lloyd didn’t break). You moan into his mouth—-you can’t help it—-and the only thing holding you up is the hand around your neck and the weight of his broad, heavy body pressed against yours. You can feel him smirking against your lips after your moan slips out, and by the time he pulls away, you’ve soaked through your panties. You haven’t been kissed like that since your wedding day—the last time you saw him, when you did the thing you try so hard not to think about but always come back to when you’re alone in the tub with just enough time to rub one out in between supper and bathtime. The thing that changed everything and nothing at all.

“Here,” he says. “Take this.” He hands you a slip of paper with an address on it—some bougie D.C. neighborhood near Embassy Row. “I’ll be there Friday night and Saturday but Sunday morning I’m gone. No telling when I’ll be back. Do me a favor and make the right choice for once.” He grabs your face in his large hands and leans down to whisper, low and gravely, against your forehead. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

Before you have a chance to answer, a huge black Suburban with tinted windows pulls up and Lloyd hops in the passenger seat.

“See you soon, Porkchop,” he says, half hanging out the open window. “Tell the kid Daddy says hi.”

***

“Oh come on,” your roommate Shay begged. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

You had zero desire to go to the Phoenix club party but it was Harvard-Yale weekend and the Crimson had absolutely slaughtered the Bulldogs that afternoon. Shay was dying to go and she’d been trying to drag you out for weeks.

“I won’t even get in,” you told her. “I’m just a freshman and I… I just won’t. It’ll be embarrassing.”

You didn’t tell her the real reason you didn’t want to go, which was that you packed on the freshman 15 and then some and you didn’t want to be the fat girl left out in the cold while your much thinner, much hotter roommate got into the party.

“Babe, they let all the girls in, and that goes double for freshmen.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to go?” you replied. You knew the reputation that the finals club parties had on campus, and you knew it wasn’t the safest place for a drunk 18-year-old girl to be, especially on the night of The Game. “Those guys are so sketchy.”

“Yeah, but they have the best booze,” she said. “And we’ll watch out for each other. Come on, please?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but be curious about the legendary party scene at the clubs. And on Game Day? After a win? It was bound to be wild.

“Alright,” you agreed. “Just this once. But I’m not getting wasted. I’m considering this more of a sociological experiment.”

“Whatever gets you out the door, nerd,” she replied. “Now let’s find you something to wear that isn’t that ratty old hoodie and jeans.”

You were freezing cold and terribly uncomfortable in the dress and heels your roommate chose for you. The dress was stretchy enough to fit you but you didn’t consider it flattering. You told her as much but she assured you you looked great.

“Your tits look incredible in that dress,” she insisted. “Seriously, I can’t look away.”

You took the compliment but you still felt exposed. You never wore tight clothes, preferring to hide your chub under layers of fabric or loose-fitting dresses. You’d always been a bigger girl but your first few months of college, even without being a heavy drinker, saw you tipping the scale much higher than ever before. The skin-tight green dress you were wearing was making you feel vulnerable and you could tell the discomfort was written all over your face.

“It’ll be fine,” Shay promised you as you walked to the Phoenix.

You could hear the crowd two blocks away, so loud that the whooping and cheering and chanting of “Fuck Yale” could probably be heard all the way in New Haven, and when you rounded the corner onto Mt. Auburn, you saw the epic line.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, though the sound of the crowd drowned it out.

The line to get in was around the block and then some, and it was almost all scantily clad girls, many of them freshmen you vaguely recognized. You saw the hot blonde from your psych class with a group of her equally hot friends at the front of the line being waved in by a guy at the door, and you saw him laugh in the faces of the two guys after them and send them on their way.

“There’s no way we’re getting in. Let’s just go somewhere else,” you told Shay, but you were really more concerned that she would get in and you wouldn’t.

“We’re getting in,” she said, “and we’re not waiting on this fucking line either.”

Before you could argue, Shay was dragging you toward a girl about 10 people back in line.

“Hey, cousin!” Shay yelled, and she shoved her way into the line next to her cousin Maddie.

Maddie was a sophomore and had been hooking up with one of the Phoenix guys. You felt awful cutting the line, and the girls behind you were quite vocal about how pissed they were about it, but Maddie silenced them with a simple, “Hush, freshmen,” and before you knew it, you were standing at the door in front of the guy who held all the power.

“Hey Mads,” he said. “See you brought some fresh meat.”

“This is my cousin and her roommate,” Maddie said. “Be nice”

The guy looked Shay up and down, clearly approving of her, but when he took a look at you, he started laughing. You almost ran away crying right then but you forced yourself to make eye contact and smile.

“Oh, Lloyd’s gonna love this one,” he said. “Entrez, mademoiselles. Down the rabbit hole you go.”

On your way down the stairs, you asked Maddie, “What was that supposed to mean? Who’s Lloyd?”

She just laughed. “Lloyd Hansen? The football player?”

“I’m not much of a sports fan,” you replied.

“Well he’s basically a god on the team, and he’s only a junior. But I’d stay away from him if I were you. He’s… well, I’ve heard some stories and none of them are good.”

You really did mean to heed her advice, you did, but two hours and several vodka cranberries later and you were drunker than you’d ever been in your life. You didn’t feel sick, just completely out of control, but you liked the feeling. You were always so buttoned up and guarded and it felt so fucking good to just let go for once. Shay stuck by your side as promised and the two of you danced and drank and danced and drank more.

You don’t know exactly when it happened—-you were out of it then and time has only muddled the memory further—-but at some point, you found yourself alone in the courtyard out back. You looked around for Shay but she was nowhere to be found. There was a group of guys nearby, and through the din and the ringing in your ears you could hear them laughing while one of them made oinking and squealing noises. You knew without knowing that they were laughing at you, and as you shoved your way through the crowd and back inside you heard one of them shout “Get ‘er done!”

It came on you suddenly—-that feeling that your bladder might burst. You needed to find a bathroom and quickly. You asked the person closest to you and she pointed in the direction of a huge line of girls.

“Fuck,” you shouted to no one, and then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

When you turned around, you were eye-level with the incredibly broad chest of one of the guys you’d seen outside.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said, and you looked up into the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen, framed by long lashes that most women would kill for. “You lost?”

“I… uh… my friend is…” you stammered, having trouble finding words with this beautiful guy towering over you. “I… is there another bathroom here?”

“Upstairs,” he said. “Members only, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

The ground floor of the Phoenix looked like some sort of Gilded Age mansion, probably because that’s exactly what it was. Every inch of the place reeked of old money. You followed the handsome, brown-haired stranger up to the second-floor hallway and he opened a door into a large, well-appointed bedroom.

“Master bathroom’s right through there,” he said. “It’s the nicest one in the house.” He cocked his head to look at you. “You’re not gonna puke, are you?”

“No,” you said. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good girl.”

It felt like ages before your bladder was finally empty. You used some expensive French lavender soap to wash your hands and dried them on a plush hand towel with the Phoenix insignia embroidered on it. When you exited the bathroom, the brunette was sitting on the four-poster bed sipping a honey-brown liquid from a crystal tumbler. His dress shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, his crimson tie hanging loose, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow revealing thick, veiny forearms dusted with hair. You found yourself speechless and staring; he was gorgeous, tall and broad with a chiseled face and an athlete’s build. You had no idea what he was doing with you.

“You want a drink, sweetheart?”

“I, uh, I shouldn’t,” you said. “I need to go find my friend.”

“Just one drink,” he said. “Come on. This whiskey is older than my dad. I promise you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“I don’t really drink whiskey,” you replied, but he was already up, taking three long strides toward the bar cart in the corner.

The glass clinked three times as he dropped in ice cubes from a silver bucket, and you watched as he poured you three fingers of the liquid gold. You didn’t want it but you took it anyway. You didn’t even know him but some part of you—something deep-down and driven by primal instinct—didn’t want to disappoint him. The first sip burned like hell and you coughed after you swallowed.

“Easy, easy,” he said, rubbing your back with one of his large hands. He sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Come sit for a minute. Talk to me. I’m so fucking bored.”

You sat down next to him—close but not close enough to touch—and he watched as you pulled your skirt down where it was riding up.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” you asked, braving another sip of the whiskey, which you had to admit was growing on you just as the heat in your belly was growing as you drank it.

“Uh, Lloyd Hansen?” he replied, sounding a bit miffed at the question. “You may have heard of me? I was the guy on the field today who knocked the Yale QB on his ass about a dozen times?”

You vaguely remembered hearing the name Lloyd Hansen but you didn’t remember where you’d heard it. You thought to yourself that it must have been someone talking about the game.

“Congratulations on the win,” you said. “I don’t really follow football but, you know, fuck Yale.”

That was the first time you heard Lloyd laugh, and he did it with his whole chest.

“Fuck Yale indeed,” he said. “And now that you know who I am, I want to know who you are and how you ended up at my party. I’ve never seen you around before. I would remember you.”

You told him your name, that you were a freshman and that you didn’t really go out much. You knew you sounded like a complete loser, but the alcohol was like a truth serum and you ended up telling him that you were more into studying than partying.

“So you really are a good girl, then?” he said, his hand inching closer to your thigh. The deep pitch of his voice was almost as intoxicating as the drink in your hand. “How refreshing.”

He placed his drink on the nightstand and moved closer to you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you nodded. “All the girls that come around here, they’re so fucking boring. So ordinary. Just a bunch of dumb bitches with rich and powerful parents who are only at Harvard to fuck around for four years and find a husband.” He ran his pointer finger down your thigh and toyed with the hem of your dress and you shivered as he leaned in close and spoke low in your ear. “But not you. You’re something special. I knew it the second I saw you.”

“I… I’m nobody,” you said. “I’m not special.”

His lips brushed the side of your neck and your eyes fluttered closed. “Yes,” he purred. “You are.”

Your memory gets hazy then. You remember Lloyd on top of you, kissing you and groping your tits through your dress. You don’t remember him taking it off you, or his clothes coming off, but you remember the feeling of your knees hitting the plush Persian rug as he pushed you down on the floor in front of him. He sat on the edge of the bed, long legs spread wide on either side of you as his fisted his cock in one hand and grabbed the back of your head with the other.

“You know how to suck a dick?” he asked, and you shook your head no.

You’d only ever given handjobs before and you’d never seen a dick as big or as thick as Lloyd’s. You were terrified. You didn’t know what you were doing and you didn’t really want to do it but, again, you couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to disappoint him. You didn’t want to be boring or ordinary. You wanted to be the girl he thought you were. You wanted to be special.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded. “Stick your tongue all the way out.”

You did as he asked and he slapped your tongue with the head of his cock a few times before he told you to lick it. When you did, you tasted something salty—not exactly a bad taste, but strange.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl,” he said, gripping your head tighter. “Now wrap your lips around it. Yeah. Just like that. Fuck, I knew those dick-sucking lips of yours would feel good. Now open up your throat and breathe through your nose. I’m gonna fuck that pretty face of yours.”

He put his other hand on the back of your head and started to move you deeper onto his cock, and when he hit the back of your throat, you gagged and tried to pull away.

“Ah ah ah,” he said, “you can take it. Come on. Just relax.”

To this day, you don’t know how you didn’t throw up on him. He stood up and held your head in place as he fucked his way past your gag reflex and down into your throat over and over again, with fast harsh thrusts that had your mascara running rivers down your face and your own spit dripping down your chin onto your bare chest.

“That’s my good little cocksucker,” he said. “So fucking good for me. Look so pretty when you cry.”

Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his thighs as you let him use you, not knowing how long it was going to take or what exactly was supposed to happen. All you knew, looking up at him as he fucked your windpipe raw, was that he was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. The way his jaw clenched as he grunted, the deep V-cut that framed your face as he pushed and pulled you, the veins popping in his neck and his arms—-it was all too much. He was too much. The ache between your legs was getting unbearable and you took one of your hands off his leg and started to rub your clit.

“Oh, you love choking on my dick, huh? My pretty little slut’s gonna make herself cum with my fat cock down her throat, isn’t she?”

You moaned onto his flesh—his filthy, cruel words only making you want to please him more. You wanted to cum so badly but your own fingers just couldn’t get you there. You didn’t have enough time anyway, though, because Lloyd’s grip on your head tightened to the point of pain.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, pulling out of your burning throat and leaving you coughing and gasping for air. “Look up at me. I’m gonna paint that pretty face white. Open your fuckin mouth.”

You tried to keep eye contact with him but it was hard while you were still trying to catch your breath and keep from coughing.

“Look. At. Me,” he barked.

You stared into his lust-blown blue eyes as his mouth dropped open, his lips forming a perfect pink O as he huffed out air. Then you heard him grunt and you felt the first spurt hot against your cheek. The second one barely missed your eye but you kept them open, and he smirked down at you as he pressed the tip of his cock to your tongue and shot straight into the back of your throat. You gagged on it and swallowed and he laughed at you before gathering the cum off your face with his fingers and shoving them in your mouth.

“Clean your plate like a good little girl,” he said. “Come on. Suck.”

And you did, because the way he looked at you when you started to lick the cum off his fingers—there was something reverent about it, with more than a hint of amusement.

“I knew you’d be good,” he said when you’d licked him clean. “Fat chicks really do give the best head.”

You felt your cheeks blaze with embarrassment and shame and you would have started to cry if he hadn’t already fucked all the tears out of your face. You started to gather your clothes but he grabbed you by the arm and yanked you up off the floor.

“Aww, don’t worry, Porkchop,” he said, pulling you against his bare chest. You looked up at him, horrified, but he wore a smug, satisfied smile as he ran his hands down your body, grabbing handfuls of flesh at your sides and your hips and finally taking two handfuls of ass. “Just means there’s more of you to love.”

“Get off me,” you cried, and you tried to push him back but he held you tight.

“Quit fucking struggling,” he snapped, his grip on you tightening to a bruising pressure. “You think I’m being mean? If you want mean, little girl, I can show you mean. But I’m dead serious. The guys make fun of me for it but I fucking love me a fat girl. Of course, I can’t actually be seen with one. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I fucking hate you, you asshole,” you screamed. “Let me go.”

“No,” he said, his mouth a hard line. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me, but there are rules to this.”

“Fuck you and your rules. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

He grabbed your neck and pressed lightly on the sides, bringing his face down to yours—so close his lips grazed yours when he said, “You don’t really mean that, do you, Porkchop? It would be such a disappointment if you did.”

You opened your mouth to speak—-to scream or to cry you don’t know—-but he silenced you with a deep kiss. You hated yourself for returning it, for opening up for him and letting his cruel tongue inside. But fuck he felt good—-his lips and his hands and his rock-hard body. You never dreamed a guy like Lloyd would ever look twice at you. Even through your drunken haze, you knew you were being used—-that you were easy pickings for him that night and he took advantage of you—-but you didn’t care. He felt too fucking good for you to care.

He made you cum on his fingers and his tongue three times that night before he kicked you out.

“Sorry, Porkchop. No girls in the house past sunrise. I’ll be seeing you real soon, though.”

You wanted to tell him he wouldn’t, that you’d just used him the way he used you. but you knew even then it was a lie. Any self-respect you had went out the window the moment you met Lloyd Hansen.

PART TWO >>>

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #chris evans characters #the gray man #special girl

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