#everyone day hi silver everyone day nice face silver

[9agust3]

"You and your boyfriend were hanging out at a mutual friend's party, but things got a little too heated, and you both decided to sneak off to the restroom"

Pairing: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Established relationship, Idol!Yoongi

Warnings: Sub!Yoongi and Soft Dom!Reader, public sex, quick handjob, praise, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m!receiving), she slaps his cock once, protected sex!!!, he fucks her against the sink, she covers his mouthARGH, they love each other so much:(

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: I saw yoongi's video on the day of ggukie's party, and I couldn't resist. He looked so handsome@&%^@$@ i miss him so much:(

Jungkook organized a private listening party for his new album, inviting his closest friends, and of course, you and Yoongi were on the guestlist. The party takes place at a bar, very nice and cozy, with delicious food, good decoration and lighting. Everyone is having fun, drinking, chatting, and laughing for quite a long time now, and you, feeling your boyfriend's eyes, which happen to be right next to you, burning into you. He's wearing a black shirt with a blazer over it, pants and shoes, all in the same color, and a simple silver necklace. A complete snack.

Honestly, if this party wasn't so important for Ggukie, you'd probably have ripped this outfit off of him before the party even started. He looks and smells so good, wearing his most expensive perfume just for you. You're dressed especially well too, in the same color palette as him, a black dress, an overcoat, knee-high leather boots, and silver accessories.

The younger boys and Hobi are drunk, singing and dancing together with other friends. Jin has also overstepped his bounds and is mumbling to himself in his chair. Namjoon is sitting next to you, talking to a nice guy he met. And you're laughing quietly at the clowns you're seeing. Until you feel your boyfriend's fingers caressing your thigh. You look at him, and he's looking straight ahead. You caress him with your foot under the table. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye and smiles at you.

You get up.

"I'm going to the bar. Come with me?"

Yoongi nods, looking up at you.

"Nam," you catch his eye, nudging him lightly, "I'm going to the bar with Yoongi. Text me if you need us."

"Sure, feel free," he says and gives you a sweet smile, then turns his attention back to the nice guy.

Yoongi gets up, and you take his hand, leading him to the bar, where you sit down.

"What can I do for you?" asks the barman.

"How about two shots of the best whisky you've got?"

"Right away."

"Thank you." You smile sweetly and turn your full attention to the brunette next to you. He was looking at you with eyes full of love.

"You're so beautiful."

You laugh awkwardly, "Did you enjoy your dinner? The food here is very good"

"I think so too, I'd like to try their ice cream too"

"We can pass there before we leave"

"Yeah."

The two of you sit in silence for a while, staring at each other and laughing softly.

"Here you go guys, can I help you with anything else?"

"No thanks, dear," you take your order.

"You're welcome. " He turns around.

Yoongi tastes the whisky.

"Is it good, kitten?" You lean your face on the palm of your hand and look at him with a silly smile.

Yoongi chuckles, "The drinks here are great. The two I had earlier have already left me a little cheerful, and I think you too, but you still brought me here. Do you want to get me drunk, woman?"

You let out a good laugh, "funny"

"If that's your plan, it'll work", he smiles.

"And what was your plan when you caressed my thigh?"

"None... I just wanted your attention", he looks at the glass in his hand, playing with it.

"Hey, look at me", you lift his face by his chin. "Now you have my attention."

Yoongi sighs and blinks repeatedly, his gaze on your mouth.

"Give me your wallet," you gesture with your hand.

He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to you without even thinking, you being bossy like that out of nowhere could have been the death of him. You take enough to pay for the two drinks, put it on the counter, and whisper in his ear.

"I just brought you here in case anyone asks where we went. Count to thirty and follow me." You nibble his earlobe, kiss his cheek, and then leave.

Yoongi's gaze follows you until you disappear down a corridor. He finishes his drink and patiently counts to thirty. And then he's looking for you, he imagines that you're waiting for him in the bathroom, which he doesn't know where it is. He turns down the same corridor you did before, looks around kinda lost until he's pulled tightly by the arm.

Yoongi lets out a painful whine as he is pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The door is now locked.

"Hi love."

"You've got your sexy voice on," he replied with a shaky breath.

"Yes, I do, and you like it."

"A lot."

You start kissing his neck, he sighs and closes his eyes.

"Are you all right, love?" You asked and caressed his cheek. He knows you're asking for his consent.

"Come back to my neck, please" he holds your wrist

"I need to hear you say it," you whisper in his ear

"Yes, I am."

Your hand is on the back of his neck now, fingers entwined in his dark locks. You kiss his neck like a vampire hungry for blood.

He puts one of his hands on your waist in an attempt to stay up, his knees are shaking, almost giving up on him. And you notice this, so to give him a hand, you press your knee right between his legs.

He gets off balance and accidentally ends up sitting on your thigh.

"Ah! love," he holds harder onto your waist with both hands now.

"Cute."

"That's embarrassing."

"I feel you, and you're already hard. I haven't done anything yet." You run the hand that was on the back of his neck down his body and slide it into his pants. You giggle naughty, "Let me guess, me throwing you against the wall is what got you that way?"

"I like it when you're rough"

"Yeah?", you hiss and press your thigh harder against his cock.

He throws his head back and lets out a delicious moan. You love what you see, but sadly, you take your hand out of his pants and lower your leg, leaving him with a devastated look.

"Baby please..."

"Put me on the sink", you take off your overcoat and hang it on a bag holder since you are in the lady's room.

"What?" he straightens up

"Or you don't want to taste me?"

He opens his eyes wide and reaches for you with desperate hands, pulling you close by the waist. He kisses you passionately, the way only he does and lifts you onto his lap.

He puts you on the sink carefully without breaking the kiss, which goes down to your neck, collarbones, cleavage, and belly. He's already on his knees in front of you. It's a scene you've seen many times before, but you can never stop involuntarily opening your legs during it.

The kisses are now on the inside of your thighs. He lifts your dress slightly and holds the hem of your panties, looking at you with the eyes of a puppy begging for a treat. You nod, giving him the consent he so desperately wanted, and he pulls your panties off with the help of his mouth, so slow that feels like torture. You can't stand how sexy he can be.

"Don't forget that we don't have much time"

"Yes mistress", he murmurs while giving you kisses right below your belly button.

It's not customary for the two of you to have sex in public, but everyone needs a break. Sometimes, it's hard to hold back. Like the time you two sneaked out to the car in the middle of one of his coworkers' fancy birthday party, or in the last trip you went together, where you rode him in the hot tub of the hotel you were staying in, at night when no one was around.

You almost made love in bed this morning, but Yoongi had to leave for work to be free by the time of the party, and you had things to do too. Having to hold back while getting ready, you both couldn't take your horniness any longer.

He puts your legs on his shoulders and licks your pussy, you hold him by the hair and close your eyes, breathing deeply.

Yoongi's tongue is not to be trifled with. He can take you there once, twice, and more without getting tired. It's so pleasurable for him to suck you, he doesn't even expect anything in return, just by seeing you feeling good and hearing you calling his name, he can come without even touching himself, or just accept it and stay quiet, like the good boy he is.

He stares at you from below, caressing your thighs.

You look at him and smile.

"Keep it up, kitten, don't stop. You're doing great," you push his hair away from his forehead and pat his head.

And with a flick of his tongue, the caress turns into a hair tug. You curse and squeeze him with your thighs. He holds them tighter and smirks without stopping working.

"Baby, I'm close"

He knows. He knows when you're near, you don't even have to tell him. He knows every bit of you, just like you know him. But you still say it because you know it turns him on. He lowers one of your legs to gain better access to your clit, which he rubs with his thumb.

"Now love", you exclaimed, trying to stay quiet, and he held you with the hand that was still on your thigh.

But instead of relaxing, you began to feel overstimulated as the brunette between your legs refused to stop tasting you.

"Yoongi, that's enough," you barked.

He ignored your order and began to reach into the pit of your knee to put your leg back over his shoulder. But before he could do that, you pulled him up sharply by the hair.

"I said enough." You hissed, shaking him with your hand tightly in his black hair.

He whimpers, closing his eyes tightly, looking for your hand in his hair.

"Put your hand down."

He leans on the sink with both hands around you and opens his eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"I'm sorry"

He sighs, starting to close his eyes again, but you shake him by the hair.

"Huh? Answer me."

"I'm sorry mistress... it's hard for me to contain myself, I love tasting you so much"

"Oh my kitten, I forgive you, but as I said. We. don't. have. time." You pull his hair harder, and he moans, fucking the sink cabinet underneath you.

"Awn, is baby desperate for pussy?"

"Uh-huh," he moans with a pout on his lips.

"Do you want to cum in mommy's pussy?"

"Yes, please."

"Oh, my always polite boy, I hope you brought a condom, because I'm not leaving here dripping." You release his hair and give it a caress.

He reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a condom.

"Are we doing this so often? How did I miss that?" You laugh.

He puts the wallet away and puts the condom in his mouth, leaning back on the sink with his arms around you.

You smile and take the condom.

"Take off your pants."

He takes off his belt as quickly as he can, leaving his pants on his feet so that he can put them on quickly if he needs to.

"Take off your underwear and that blazer too."

He does it without contest. When he's finished, you pull him close by the necklace he's wearing. You open the condom and touch his length, moving your hand up and down before putting it on.

"Look at this pretty little cock" You give him a kiss, "Is it nice, my love?"

"Yes mistress"

You spit on his cock and speed up your movements, staring at him. And he lets out a long cry.

"Darling, you said we didn't have time!"

"Sorry, it's just that I love watching you squirm." You smile and give his cock a slap, to which he reacts with a gasp.

You put the condom on him, laugh, and lean back against the sink. Looking directly at him, you spread your legs.

"Come here, my love"

He comes closer and puts his hands on your waist, kissing you passionately. You feel his tip rubbing against your entrance.

You put your hands on his hips, pulling him forward, making him sink into you.

You both moan in unison, and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Which you also do when you put your arms around his neck.

Your foreheads are together, and he moves slowly inside you.

"I love you so much, you know?" He sighs at you. "It doesn't matter where I am. My job is to serve you."

He runs his hand down your leg and kisses your neck.

"Am I doing okay mistress?" He asks between kisses.

"You're perfect, my love."

He speeds up his thrusts, and you put your hands inside his shirt, searching for his nipples. His moans are getting louder and whinier. You didn't care until you heard knocks on the door.

"Is the restroom occupied?" A female voice asks from outside.

You cover his mouth with your hand. "Don't stop," you whisper in his ear. "Yes! And I'll be a while, darling."

"But is everything all right?"

You take a deep breath before answering, trying to concentrate as Yoongi thrusts hard into your pussy.

"It's okay, I just need some time!"

"All right then, no rush", she says, and you hear the sound of her heels dissipate.

"Well done, my good boy." You praise him without removing your hand from his mouth. "What do you think about speeding it up a bit, huh?"

He lets out a muffled growl and does as you ask, gripping your thighs tightly and pulling them against him. You throw your head back, holding back a loud moan.

"Keep going baby, you're doing so well", your walls are already squeezing his cock, making it harder for him to work.

He lets out a long, desperate sob against your hand. Shutting his eyes tightly.

"Are you close, sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh," he nods several times.

"Me too, me too, baby. Let's cum together, how's that? Huh?"

You wrap your arm around his neck without taking your hand away from his mouth, and he hugs you tightly around the waist.

He rests his forehead on yours and thrusts a little harder.

"Yoongi"

He opens his eyes, you take your hand away from his mouth.

"I love you."

And he goes off with that, letting out an extended mewl, you right after him. You hold each other trembling, climaxing together.

"That was... wow!"

"Yeah, I can't believe we did that"

"My knees are shaking" he smiles.

You run your hand over his face and neck to wipe away some sweat.

"It's a good thing there's air conditioning in here, even with it we're all sweaty, imagine without it"

"And when you covered my mouth? I almost went mad"

"I knew you'd like it and I wasn't going to do the absurd thing of telling you to stop"

He takes off the condom and puts his pants back on. Picks up your panties, helping you put them on. You both finish getting dressed, and you pull him into a slow kiss.

"What about we get that ice cream and go home?"

"I think that's a great idea."

"Hey, this will be the last time we do this in public, okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It certainly won't be the last time.

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us ,, chap: 19 — let go ✎

// series index //

warnings: emotional rollercoaster? silly -> freaky -> cute -> sobbing (but in a good way!) i had to write this as quickly as possible, pls ignore the mistakes, i literally rushed it but i still think it's good !! 😣

nsfw warnings: lots of kissing (IT'S THEIR THING), tittie play, oral (f! recieving), dirty talk-ish??, protected sex.

wc: 5.2k+

note: probably my fave chapter haha

the cafe is quiet, the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cups creating a relaxed atmosphere. it’s not crowded, just a handful of students scattered across tables. you and jungkook decided to meet up here, both having an hour to kill before your next class.

jungkook is sitting beside you, one hand intertwined with yours while his other hand holds his phone as he casually scrolls through his schedule for the day. he’s dressed in his usual casual style; sweatpants and a simple shirt that somehow manages to make him look unfairly attractive. his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, making him look effortlessly sexy. he's literally making it hard for you not to stare and drool over him.

he hums softly, almost to himself. “i could skip the next class if i wanted to,” he says, placing his phone down on the table.

you tilt your head, curious. “oh really?”

he nods, leaning back in his chair, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “yeah, it’s just a lecture. i’ve already got the notes.”

before you can say anything else, a soft voice cuts in. “i am so glad i don’t have any classes after this,”

you glance at the silver haired man infront of you and smile slightly before another familiar voice speaks up. “yeah, guess what? i don’t even have classes anymore,”

jungkook chuckles beside you, his thumb brushing over your hand absentmindedly. “must be nice, hyung,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

yoongi and jimin are at your table too. jimin, the silver-haired guy you’ve seen before in a very awkward situation, is here to meet yoongi today. and to your surprise, he talks like you’ve been part of their group for ages, his energy is warm and welcoming, which you really appreciate.

jimin leans back in his chair, turning to yoongi. “you know, i was just thinking about that night.. the one when jason got punched.”

your stomach drops at the mention, and you shift in your seat, suddenly very interested in your cup of coffee.

“i was like, over there in the middle of the dance floor,” jimin starts as he recalls the scene. “i don't even know who i was with, there was some chick grinding on me and then POW! i heard the punch, and everyone just stopped and turned towards the sound. taehyung was already sprinting towards jungkook and jason, and oh my god, i was so ready to cheer for the fight!!!” he pauses. “but then i saw the look on yoongi's face and thought, ‘oop, never mind. gotta make it stop.’”

jimin chuckles and glances at yoongi, who shakes his head, clearly unimpressed by the retelling.

a few days after that night, jason apologized to you. it was awkward but sincere, and you listened as he explained himself, it was clear that he regretted it.

“i messed up, i know that,” he said,“i shouldn’t have pushed things the way i did. and, uh… i totally deserved that punch.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised that he was acknowledging it so openly. “yeah, well. i am glad you're aware,” you said.

he sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “i guess it's time for goodbyes? i don't know, i don't think we're gonna get along well, especially since your boyfriend hates me.”

you were surprised at the ‘boyfriend’ title but you chose to ignore it and nodded slowly, “i get that, and yeah.. i think it’s best if we’re not friends anymore. i don’t want to keep dragging things out too,”

you watched him walk away. you haven’t talked to jason since that day, and this time, you knew you made the right choice.

jimin turns his attention to jungkook, who’s now watching him with an amused grin. “besides that, i thought it was fucking awesome, jungkook,”

jungkook chuckles softly, “yeah, getting into a fight with one of your friends is awesome now.”

jimin waves him off. “oh please i don't even care about him, he just happens to know a girl i used to fuck,”

“you’re lucky no one called the cops,” yoongi mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.

“oh, come on,” jimin says, grinning. “it wouldve been legendary, right jungkook?"

“i don't know, legendary or not ,” jungkook glances at you with a soft smile, “i’d rather not have a repeat of that night.”

you nod in agreement, grateful that the topic seems to be winding down. but jimin’s energy is contagious, and even though you’re a little embarrassed, you can’t help but smile at how he's excited about the 'fight'.

“well i think that he deserved it,” jimin announces playfully.

jungkook’s got that cocky grin on his face, the one that always makes you... well, horny. his hand casually slips under the table and onto your thigh. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers inching higher, sliding under your skirt. you glance at him, trying your best to act unbothered, even as your body betrays you with a slight shiver.

“he deserved it, didn’t he?” jungkook asks, his voice low and teasing, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes you so fucking wet.

“yeah,” you manage to say softly, even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his hand gently stroking your inner thigh.

jimin interrupts with a playful grin. “i think ___'s awesome too, by the way. i saw that slap from miles away, and i was definitely cheering for you,” he pauses and gives yoongi a quick glance before continuing. “quietly, of course.”

you’re not embarrassed about the slap itself. honestly, to this day, you think she deserved far worse. but having it brought up so openly now, in front of everyone, makes you squirm a little.

“oh, um, yeah haha... thank you.” you mumble, feeling jungkook’s eyes on you. he’s smiling ear to ear, clearly entertained by your reaction.

yoongi clears his throat, his expression neutral but his tone laced with humor. “it’s good to see you two not being petty to each other anymore.”

both of your heads snap towards yoongi at the same time, and you chuckle nervously. jungkook smiles, slowly withdrawing his hand from under your skirt and intertwining it with yours on top of the table like nothing happened.

“we’re trying not to. at least i am,” jungkook says, half-joking, his tone so casual that you roll your eyes at him and without missing a beat, you kick him lightly under the table, shooting him a glare. jungkook shrugs a little and kisses your cheek and you can't help but smile.

yoongi and jimin watch the little exchange between you and jungkook, amusement evident on their faces. yoongi raises an eyebrow, shaking his head lightly, while jimin stifles a laugh behind his hand.

“you two are something else,” yoongi comments under his breath, earning a grin from both of you.

but neither of them presses any further, quickly falling back into their own conversation. jimin leans in closer to yoongi, gesturing something with his hands as he starts talking about something you can’t quite catch. yoongi listens intently, nodding along and occasionally throwing in a remark that makes jimin laugh.

their voices become background noise when you hear your phone ding, drawing your attention to the screen. you pick it up and unlock it, only to see a message from jungkook.

jungkook: you look so fucking hot rn, yk that?

you glance at him, raising an eyebrow as he sits there casually, his face unreadable except for the slight upward curve of his lips.

you type back quickly.

you: keep ur hands to yourself and be patient.

his phone buzzes and he checks the message, his grin widening as he types a reply.

jungkook: i am, baby. if i wasn't i would've ripped that skirt open and eat that pretty cunt of yours right now.

you feel your cheeks heat up, and he chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. you shove your phone into your lap, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered again, but the wetness building between your legs is saying something else.

jungkook is patient.

very patient.

no one's ever been this patient with you (except your parents, of course). your brother used to make fun of you—and still does—for having what he called "ridiculous standards." he’d tease you, saying that anyone who wanted to be with you would need the patience of a saint to deal with your stubbornness. back then, you’d laugh it off. but as you grew older, those words began to settle in your mind, twisting into a belief that maybe he was right.

that maybe no one could keep up with you.

you convinced yourself that your standards were too high, your stubbornness too much to handle. and the more you thought about it, the more it solidified into a quiet truth; you weren’t cut out for relationships.

but then theres jungkook.

he proved you wrong in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

he waited for you, even when you didn’t ask him to. even when you didn’t think anyone would. even when you were being stubborn as fuck.

he had this stubbornness to him that mirrored your own. when you were avoiding him, trying to brush him off with short responses or ignoring him altogether, he didn’t back down. he didn’t let you push him away.

he was like you in some ways, and that’s what made everything so frustrating annd oddly comforting at the same time. both of you were being immature about your argument, refusing to give in or apologize at first. but somehow, through all the tension and standoffs, he didn’t back off, and neither did you. and in a way, that’s what made it work.

and in other ways, you could probably say that... he matched your freak?

it was like he saw through all the walls you put up, and instead of trying to break them down, he just... stood there, waiting for you to let him in.

and when you did, he didn’t disappoint. he met every piece of you with something of his own, and it was messy, and it was imperfect, but it was real.

he’s the most patient man you’ve ever met, and the more time you spend with him, the more you realize just how much that patience means to you.

it’s in the way he looks at you, with so much love and care, as if he already knows you’re worth waiting for.

and you can’t stop loving him more and more for it.

but right now, in this moment, he's anything but patient.

jungkook's kissing you, hot and sloppy. his tongue grazes your bottom lip every few seconds, the kiss is wet, messy, and so fucking good.

he waited until you were done with your classes, but as soon as you stepped out, his patience snapped.

the next thing you knew; he was pulling you to his car and you didn't stop him because oh my god were you horny for this man. now you're in the back seat, ur hands tangled around his neck. one of his hands gripping your waist, and the other sliding under your skirt to rest on your thigh, squeezing it gently.

“fuck—does this remind you of something?” he pulls back, panting. his lips are swollen, and you can barely catch your breath.

“when we first—?” you start, breathless.

“yes,” he says, cutting you off with another kiss. you hum against his lips, melting into the way he moves.

“i fucking love kissing you,” he murmurs against your lips, sending a rush of heat through you.

“kiss me more then,” you challenge, your lips brushing his as you speak.

he pecks your lips once, a smile spreading across his face. “let's go to your place first,” he says, his hand giving your thigh one last squeeze before he pulls back, leaving you wanting more.

. . .

“ow—s-stop!!”

you laugh as jungkook keeps kissing your neck, the way he's doing it is almost like he's tickling you. he smiles against your skin but doesn't stop, his hands firm around your waist as he guides you backward into your room.

“jungkook!” you squeal when you feel his hands slide down your waist to your thighs, and with ease, he lifts you up, carrying you through the doorway.

he finally stops his playful kisses when he reaches your bed, his lips parting from your skin as he looks at you. both of you are smiling, your foreheads gently pressed together as you both savor the moment.

“you're so pretty,” he whispers, his voice soft and he sounds so sincere.

you feel yourself melting at his words.

“are you trying to flirt with me?” you tease, raising an eyebrow,

he tilts his head slightly, mirroring your teasing grin. “yeah, i am,” he says, placing you gently on the bed. he climbs over you, taking off his shirt immediately and leaning down to you.

his lips brushing your jaw as he murmurs, “can’t i flirt with my girlfriend?”

a pause.

your hand cups his cheek, pulling him closer. his lips inch toward yours, but just as he's about to kiss you, you press your palm against his mouth, stopping him.

he frowns, confused, while you smirk teasingly.

“but you ain't my boyfriend,” you say softly, leaning up slightly to place a playful yet soft kiss on the back of your hand still covering his lips. “and i ain't your girlfriend.”

he smiles against your palm, his eyes twinkling with amusement. he gently grabs your wrist, lowering your hand as he leans closer.

“but you don’t want me to see nobody else?” he asks, his lips barely brushing yours, his voice low and matching your teasing tone.

you shake your head slightly, your words barely above a whisper. “and i don’t want you to touch nobody else.” you confess

“but i ain’t your boyfriend?” he counters softly, placing a delicate kiss at the corner of your mouth.

you hum as your eyes flutter shut when you feel the heat of his breath and the gentleness of his lips.

“baby, we don’t have to tell nobody,” he murmurs, his hands slipping under your cardigan to rest on your waist. his thumbs gently rub your skin, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

your smile mirrors his as his lips meet yours again, the softness of the kiss promising more than words ever could.

he kisses you softer this time, and you do too, both of you lost in the intimacy. your hands graze his face, then trail down to his neck, too preoccupied with the moment to think about anything else.

his hands gently lift your cardigan up. you help him remove it, and as the fabric falls away, his touch lingers on your skin. and next comes your bra. he leans back slightly, his lips never straying far from yours, his big hands undoing the clasp at your back. the straps slide down your shoulders, and soon, it's discarded.

his kisses shift lower, finding your neck, and you let out a soft gasp when his lips touch your collarbone. your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles. his hand catches your wrist gently, and he presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, making your heart flutter.

he moves lower, pressing soft kisses along your chest. his lips linger at the top of your breasts, and his large hand comes up to cup one of them gently.

“fuck…” he breathes out, his voice low and needy. his mouth finds your nipple, yyou can feel the warmth and wetness as he sucks it, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate motions. his other hand kneads your other breast, his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipple.

your head falls back, a quiet moan escaping your lips, your back arching toward him. he hums against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. his mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips and tongue working in harmony to drive you crazy.

you feel completely consumed by him, every touch and kiss leaving you breathless.

your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, your skirt bunched up high, revealing the soft fabric of your underwear. his lips trail lower, leaving tender kisses along your stomach and hips, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. with care, he slides your skirt off, tossing it aside, leaving you exposed in nothing but your underwear.

“can i?” he asks as his head settles between your thighs, his gaze meeting yours.

“please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

he doesn’t hesitate. his fingers hook into the waistband, sliding your underwear down, baring you completely to him. his lips press soft kisses against your lower lips, and you shiver, your body already aching for him.

his fingers part your folds gently, and he pauses for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening arousal. his lips curl into a grin as he looks up at you, his eyes dark. “all for me?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur.

“all for you baby,” you manage to breathe out, your voice filled with desparation.

his grin widens, and he doesn’t waste another second. his tongue glides over your wetness in one slow, delicious stroke, and you gasp as pleasure courses through you. your thighs tighten around his head instinctively, pulling him closer as he devours you.

his tongue circles your clit, flicking and sucking gently before moving to lick broad, teasing strokes along your folds. his lips close around your sensitive bud, and he sucks softly, making you moan his name louder and louder.

“mmmph— so fucking— pussy so delicious,” he mutters, his words muffled against your heat. his voice vibrates against your core, adding to the overwhelming sensations building inside you as he continues his relentless rhythm, savoring every inch of your pussy.

his tongue slowly glides down to your aching hole, he licks up the wetness there and pushes his tongue inside you. he starts tongue fucking you and you swear you see the fucking stars.

he moves his head up and down and you can feel his nose rubbing against your clit whenever he moves. you're literally a moaning mess right now.

“mmmgh— j-jungkook so goodd!!”

he grabs your thighs, tight enough to leave marks. he continues tongue fucking you, occasionally pressing kisses and licks on your clit.

you cum.

it's all sloppy and messy, all over his mouth, and he fucking loves it.

he licks you up so good, moaning at the taste of you as you try to catch your breath.

“fuck me, jungkook, p-please,” you gasp, panting, as he rises from between your thighs, quickly removing the rest of his clothes to reveal his already hard dick, standing tall against his lower stomach.

“fuck me jungkook.. please” you moan

“yeah? you're gonna beg for it baby?” he strokes his cock, grunting a little. “gonna beg for my cock like a good girl?”

“y-yes, please fuck me,” you beg. “need you in me,”

he moans and leans down to kiss you. the kiss is hungry, desparate, sloppy and so fucking hot.

he puts on a condom as fast he can and he positions himself at your entrance, gently tapping his dick on your dripping pussy.

he groans. “you look so fucking sexy,” he says as he looks at you panting and moaning, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he loves the way you look so needy for him.

he pushes his thick length inside you, stretching you wide. you let out whimpers as you grip the bedsheets around you. your walls clenching tightly around his girth. he groans, his face contorting with pleasure as he starts to move slowly, his hips rolling back and forth.

“o-oh fuck, baby— good fucking— pussy—” his words come out muffled as his thrusts grow faster and more urgent, his pubic bone slamming against your clit with each thrust. you're crying out in pleasure, your hands grabbing at his back and arms as you try to hold on. he's fucking you hard and fast, his dick pounding into your pussy like there's no tomorrow.

he sinks deeper, filling you completely, “mmnh!!... so good,” you pant, voice strained with pleasure. with each thrust, he hits that sweet spot inside you, coaxing out whimpers and gasps.

“fuck, baby— love this tight little cunt,” he grunts

the room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. sweat beads on his forehead as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency, chasing his climax.

“g-god, you feel amazing,” he gasps, his eyes locked onto yours. “love how fucking wet and hot you are for me.”

your own pleasure builds, coiling tighter with each thrust. you arch your back, meeting him halfway, desperate for more contact.

“y-yes! yes, oh my god, jungkook—” you cry when picks up the pace even further.

with a final, deep push, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his body shuddering as he reaches his peak. you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

your legs tremble, fingers digging into his shoulders as you ride out the intense orgasm.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you both pant and quiver in the aftermath. he presses gentle kisses to your neck

“i fucking love you.”

the next morning, you and jungkook are on the couch, in the living room, wrapped up in each other's warmth. you're peacefully sleeping with your head resting on his lap, while his fingers gently play with your hair. he's shirtless, and you can't resist softly tracing your fingers along his toned stomach and chest.

"you know what i think when i look at you?" jungkook asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. you hum in response, not fully awake.

"how can someone be this pretty?" he smiles down at you, his eyes sparkling, and you return the smile.

"back at ya," you reply with a playful grin.

"oh, you think i'm pretty?" he teases, his grin widening.

"yeah, of course! you're the prettiest," you say, your smile growing as you scrunch your nose, which he finds utterly adorable.

"what about hot?" he asks, his voice turning a little more playful. you sit up, shifting to climb onto his lap, and he smiles, his hands finding your waist to help you settle comfortably.

"the hottest," you respond, and he chuckles, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

the two of you lean in to kiss... but!!!

just as your lips are about to meet, the doorbell rings.

you sigh.

"must be the delivery guy or something," you say, and jungkook nods, pulling away from you. as you get up, jungkook gives you a playful slap on your ass. you yelp in surprise, and you can hear him laughing behind you as you make your way to the door.

you open the door, expecting to see a delivery person, but instead, your eyes widen in shock.

"what the fuck?" you say it out loud, clearly surprised by the sight in front of you.

"is this how you treat your guests?" a male voice calls out, sounding amused.

jungkook notices your surprise and quickly gets up, walking towards you to see what’s going on. "what happened, baby? who is it—" he stops mid-sentence when he sees a tall man standing in front of you. the man is holding a suitcase, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his face... perfect.

“who is this?” the man asks, his eyes never leaving jungkook, waiting for you to say something.

"who are you?" jungkook asks him, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulls you behind him.

the man frowns.

“geez guys, stop it!” you step forward, standing between them now. jungkook's eyes follow you, a little confused.

"jungkook, this is my.. older brother," you say, and jungkook's eyes widen in surprise. you turn to cal and continue. "and this is jungkook, my... well, you know—"

"oh, i know," cal interrupts, eyeing jungkook with a pointed look, his gaze scanning jungkook's shirtless body. jungkook fumbles awkwardly, trying to cover himself as he looks around for his shirt, only to realize you're wearing it.

oops, you think.

“nice to meet you, i am jeon jungkook,” jungkook introduces himself, his voice a little awkward as he bows slightly to your brother. he’s clearly trying to make a good impression, but the situation he's in right now is the worst.

your brother glances at you, and you subtly mouth, ‘be nice’ to him. cal rolls his eyes, clearly not amused, but he lets out a small sigh and turns back to jungkook, holding out his hand.

jungkook, not missing a beat, reaches out and shakes his hand firmly, though still trying to mask the awkwardness.

“i’m calvin.”

“is this how you live?” your brother muses, his eyes scanning the room as he settles onto the couch where you and jungkook had been cuddling just a moment ago, taking in the surroundings with a critical eye.

“mind your own business,” you reply as you set a glass of water on the table. cal grabs it, grinning at you as he takes a sip.

“i was gonna say it suits you,” cal remarks, casually taking a few gulps of the water before setting it down on the table.

“okay, mr. richie rich,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and cal smiles.

just then, jungkook comes out of your bedroom, now fully clothed, walking towards you and cal. cal’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression hard to read. you catch it, but before he can comment, you give your brother a little kick in the leg. cal scowls, not expecting it.

you move over to jungkook, and he instantly wraps an arm around you, and he feels a little more at ease. cal notices this shift in the air, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” you ask your brother, sitting down next to jungkook on the other couch, trying to act casual.

“i did tell you,” cal points out, his tone unbothered.

“no, you didn’t—” you pause, thinking for a moment. “that was weeks ago!”

cal just shrugs, his face unapologetic. “i told you, didn’t i?”

you roll your eyes, clearly not impressed.

cal leans back on the couch. "oh yeah, mom and dad sent you some stuff," he says nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal.

you furrow your brows, a little confused. "what stuff?" you ask, glancing between him and the suitcase he brought in with him.

"in the suitcase," cal replies, pointing at the bag. "you know, your old stuff. i also saw that plushie you always used to play with."

at the mention of the plushie, you feel something in your chest. you don’t even think twice before getting up and walking over to the suitcase. jungkook watches your every movement, curious.

you open it carefully, your hands trembling slightly as you sift through your old belongings. when your fingers brush against the familiar fabric of the plushie, you pull it out, immediately hugging it tightly to your chest.

cal watches, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah, that ugly fat guy," he comments, and you glare at him and he just laughs softly, immediately apologising.

you clutch the plushie closer, but as you look down at it, you notice a small tag attached to it, and you read the words on the tag aloud: “we realised that we can let go now.”

the realization hits you, and a wave of emotions rush over you.

mom and dad..

it makes your throat tighten and your eyes well up with tears. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but it’s hard. you hug your totoro plushie tighter, a pout forming on your lips.

both jungkook and cal notice it. jungkook smiles softly, his eyes warm, while cal looks at you, his eyes softening.

for a moment, cal doesn’t say anything. he watches as you hug the plushie tightly, your fingers clutching it as though you’re afraid to let it go. despite the teasing earlier, he can’t help but see you as the same little sister who used to carry that plushie around everywhere.

he remembers the way you’d refuse to sleep without it, how you’d drag it around by one arm. you were always so stubborn. you were always insisting that it wasn’t just a toy, it was your “friend.” and now, seeing you holding it again, it’s as if time has rewound.

he can only see you as the same little girl, clutching your plushie like it’s your whole world, and it makes his heart ache a little— but in a good way.

“we’re proud of you, you know,” cal says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

you and jungkook both look at him, a little surprised.

“yes, we,” he repeats, his smile growing as he starts to list, “me, mom, dad, totoro, noisy boy-” he chuckles as he recalls some memories. “we’re all proud of you, little star.”

his words hit you hard. it breaks you, completely.

you bury your face in totoro, clutching the plushie tightly as the tears begin to fall freely. soft, shaky sobs escape your lips, and cal doesn’t hesitate. he stands and moves to kneel beside you on the floor, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. his hand strokes your arm gently, up and down, a comforting rhythm as you cry into his side.

“i missed you,” you manage to say through the tears, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

cal’s smile softens even more. “me too,” he whispers, his voice quiet but filled with warmth.

jungkook kneels down in front of you, his gaze filled with nothing but tenderness. cal looks at him, their eyes meeting for a moment, and with a small, approving smile, cal nods at him.

jungkook seems to understand immediately. he reaches out, gently pulling you into his arms. you let yourself be held, your sobs gradually quieting as he rubs soothing circles on your back.

cal watches the two of you, his chest tightening in a bittersweet way. he sees how jungkook wipes away your tears with careful hands, murmuring something about totoro that makes you chuckle softly through the emotions.

jungkook presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment before he pulls back to look at you. his eyes full of love and reassurance, and it’s enough to make cal feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re in good hands.

and all cal can think as he watches the two of you is,

we can let go now.

note: one more chapter :(( i have so much to say about owiu i am gonna cry (already did writing the last part,, idk i am js really emo today)

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

📜 permanent taglist: @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

[libelelle]

Experimenting : )

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare he have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, round eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks just as tired as you. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

Only then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed m—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a shy laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it will for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[rip-quizilla]

1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn. 

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.  

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin. 

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring. 

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return. 

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time. 

“That book any good?” 

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair. 

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already. 

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face. 

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.” 

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest. 

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?” 

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.” 

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.” 

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’. 

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.” 

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits. 

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested  gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset. 

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence. 

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.” 

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink. 

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.” 

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met. 

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away. 

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh. 

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him. 

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair? 

You weren’t sure he would. 

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight. 

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you. 

And you definitely wanted to fuck him. 

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer. 

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property. 

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries. 

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls. 

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.” 

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench. 

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you. 

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’ 

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its  flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?” 

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.” 

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity. 

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.” 

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze. 

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks. 

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?” 

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.” 

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn? 

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.  

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed. 

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb. 

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-” 

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him. 

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence. 

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?” 

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek. 

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips. 

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs. 

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.” 

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks. 

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.” 

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished. 

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat. 

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.” 

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had. 

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today. 

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?” 

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it. 

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.” 

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly  as your movements grew faster and more desperate. 

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!” 

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?” 

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop. 

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask. 

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly. 

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist. 

“You wanna see something even cooler?” 

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up. 

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school. 

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted. 

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?” 

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself. 

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor. 

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day. 

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name. 

Which he did. 

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips. 

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead. 

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-” 

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.” 

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it. 

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air. 

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined. 

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple. 

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied. 

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this: 

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day. 

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed. 

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out. 

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you. 

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him. 

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was. 

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

[corroded-hellfire]

Food, Football, and Friends - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: With so many people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, it's no surprise things get a little chaotic.

Note: Happy Thanksgiving!

Warnings: chaos that is typical of this family, Eddie's breeding kink doesn't take a holiday off, Dustin is married to someone that is not Suzy sorry

Words: 3.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Not bothering to knock, Steve opens the front door to the Munson household and pops his head inside.

“This looks like a nice house,” he says as he pushes the door all the way open. “Might be able to steal something nice.”

A huff comes from behind him and Mia pushes in the house past her father. The six-year-old scowls as she leans down to unbuckle her shiny Mary Janes.

“We’re not thieves!” Her voice carries throughout the house, summoning the little person who has been waiting all day to see her.

“Miaaaaaa!” Eliza’s heavy tread thumps down the hallway as she runs into the living room at full speed. The friction of her white tights against the carpet halts her when she reaches her destination. 

Before Mia can answer, Steve crouches down in front of the youngest Munson. He frowns and tilts his head, a few chestnut locks falling in his eyes.

“What about me? Am I chop liver?” 

Your toddler giggles and leaps into her uncle’s arms. She wraps her arms around his neck for a hug, but before she can pull away, Steve stands up, hoisting her over his shoulder in an attempt to keep her from her best friend.

“Noooo!” Eliza whines, her little legs kicking. 

“Oh, fine,” Steve sighs as he lets her down.

Eliza straightens her black and white dress before looking up to see Wayne walk in the door right behind Nancy.

“Grandpa!”

“There’s my girl!”

Wayne scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her face. The small girl giggles and tries to push his face away, his scruff tickling her.

“Where’s Daddy?” Wayne asks.

“Dunno,” Eliza answers with a shrug.

“He’s outside,” Luke says as he strolls into the room.

Nancy can’t help but notice how her youngest’s face lights up when the twelve-year-old Munson walks into the room. She clamps her lips together, trying not to giggle at Mia’s adorable crush on Luke, acting like she doesn’t notice the hearts in the young redhead’s eyes.

“Should we lock him out?” Steve asks about your husband.

Wayne sighs. “Eh, he’s scrappy, he’ll find a way back in,” he says as he sets Eliza back down. 

The moment her feet hit the ground, the toddler runs over to Mia and throws her arms around the girl’s sparkly silver dress. Concentration on Luke broken, Mia laughs and falls to the ground with Eliza, giving her a hug in return. 

“Yeah,” Steve says as he watches the girls. “I think the little munchkin would let him in.” He nods towards Eliza.

“She can’t reach the door,” Danny points out to his dad.

“Eliza finds a way to do anything,” Luke says, his tone conveying all the experience he’s had in that regard.

Before anyone else can add to the conversation, the sound of clinking and clanging pots and pans rings out from the kitchen. Automatically, everyone's heads turn in that direction. 

“Shit!” Your voice echoes out into the living room.

Immediately, Nancy brushes past her husband, patting him on the chest as she goes by.

“Play nice,” she tells him as she continues into the kitchen. The sight before Nancy has her biting her lip to keep in a grin for the second time in a matter of minutes. There you stand, holding a pot lid in one hand, holding the top of your head in the other. Your friend cocks an eyebrow at you. “Everything okay in here?”

Lamely, you raise the pot lid and give her a small wave with it.

“Gave myself a concussion looking for this so the mashed potatoes better taste damn near perfect.”

“I’m sure they will,” Nancy assures you, coming closer to take the lid out of your hand. She gently sets it on the pot simmering on the stove and turns back to you. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steve’s voice booms out from the living room before you can respond.

“You’re on, Munson!”

Eyes rolling skyward, you heave a sigh and shake your head.

“Keep our husbands from injuring themselves before dinner?” you ask.

“I’m afraid not.” Nancy winces. It’s an impossible task, you both know that.

As you open the refrigerator to grab the milk, Luke runs into the room–never one for just walking–with a grin on his face. 

“We’re going to play football!” he announces.

You raise an eyebrow as you measure out the cup of milk to add to the mashed potatoes.

“Who exactly is ‘we?” you ask.

“Me, Ryan, Theo, Danny, Uncle Steve, Grandpa, Daddy…and uh, maybe Natalie.”

The mention of your husband has you turning to give your son your full attention, letting the measuring glass of milk clank down on the counter.

“Your father is going to play football?”

“He’s gonna try,” Luke says with a mischievous snicker. You completely agree with your sports-loving son’s disbelieving and amused tone. You’re not even sure Eddie knows what the different positions in football are called.

“Is that what he and Steve were bickering about?” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest and rests her hip against the edge of the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Mia is gonna stay in the living room with Liza.”

“Luke, come on!” Theo calls out.

“My daughter is a little mother hen,” Nancy says with a smile as Luke runs out to join his new team. Mia may be the youngest sibling in her family, but that means she takes the responsibility of having a toddler best friend very seriously. 

Noise clatters from your backyard and you take a few steps to look out the large window over the kitchen sink. Through it, you can see Steve and Eddie standing next to each other, pointing at the mass of children that are in front of them—all of them except Ryan and Natalie.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Ryan says from the next room just as you’re wondering about him.

The unmistakable sigh of a teenage girl is heard before Natalie agrees, “Fine.”

Their footsteps fade out the door and Nancy raises her brow at you.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “No one can get Natalie to do anything anymore.”

“Hormones?” you ask, turning back to the stove as some boiled water sloshes over the side of a pot. The steam hisses and floats off into the air.

“Oh, yeah. Having a teenage daughter is great.”

“Oof, I do not miss being a teenager,” you say.

“What, you stopped, like, last year?” 

You spin around to see Nancy smirking at you, and you whip your kitchen towel at her in an attempt to wipe the shit eating grin off her face. She laughs and swats the rag away, affectionately wrapping an arm around your waist as she comes to stand beside you.

“Come on, now let me help you,” she chides.

“Fine,” you relent. “Want to chop those carrots?”

“No problem.”

Loud footfalls stampede towards the kitchen, but they’re not quite as heavy as Eliza’s usually are, so you’re not surprised when Mia comes racing into the kitchen. One of these times these running children are going to hurt themselves.

“Auntieeee?” she asks you as she comes to a stop.

“Miaaaaaa?”

“Eliza is hungry,” she tells you. “Can I get her a snack?”

“Sure thing, cutie.” You wipe your hands off on the towel and walk over to the pantry. The Cheerio box is right at eyelevel as you reach for it and hand it to Mia. “Just make sure she doesn’t eat too many, okay?”

“Okay!” she calls over her shoulder as she runs out with the box.

Just as you’re about to reach for a knife, the doorbell rings. You head out to the living room, smiling when you see Eliza and Mia sitting in front of the television, sharing Cheerios and watching the rerun of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The big Snoopy balloon passes by as you grab the doorknob. There stand Lucas and Max with their daughter Tiffany, and Dustin with his wife Anne and their baby girl, Molly. The moment she sees you, Tiffany launches herself forward with a squeal. She wraps her arms around your hips and hugs herself against your body.

“Well, hello there,” you greet her. To allow everyone else into the house, you pick up the six-year-old and take a few steps back from the door. “You wanna join Eliza and Mia?” When she nods, you let Tiffany down to go join the other girls.

The moment your arms are free, you’re being pulled into more hugs with everyone and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving. Last but not least, you pluck Molly from her mother’s arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe how big she is!” you coo. Now well over a year old, the last time you saw the youngest Henderson was when she was nine months. 

Dustin grabs her walker from the car, since she’s still new to the whole walking thing and not the steadiest. He sets it down in the living room and you plop her down in the Minnie Mouse themed rover. She instantly takes off in the direction of the television, as if knowing she wants to be a part of this little girl gang.

“Eliza?” you call. “Do you want to come say hi?”

It takes her a second, but finally, Eliza finishes the Cheerio that’s in her hand and pushes herself up on to her feet. She toddles over, smiling when she sees her Aunt Max—who is arguably her favorite person who is not a Munson or Harrington. Her aunt gives her a big hug. Then, Eliza stops in front of Dustin. Saying nothing, she just stares up at him, her big brown eyes blinking a few times.

“Hi, Eliza!” When your daughter doesn’t answer, Dustin kneels down to be at her level. “Remember me? Uncle Dustin?”

She just keeps staring.

Lucas laughs at the little girl’s nonreaction and snatches her up into his own arms. “Mwah!” he presses a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, Eliza grins and wraps her arms around his neck for a hug.

Dustin pouts up at the scene before him, lower lip jutting out dramatically as he stands back up.

“Hey! I’m the cool uncle!” he protests. And it’s true; if the other kids were in the house right now, they’d all be climbing over Dustin until the poor man gets lost in a sea of children.

“Guess not anymore,” Lucas says with a shrug.

“It’s gotta be because I live further away,” Dustin argues. “She sees me less.”

“Sure,” Lucas says, his tone far from sincere.

Max rolls her eyes at the two men’s bickering, presumably tired of it after hearing it for almost a decade and a half. The redhead takes Eliza from her husband’s arms and turns to face Dustin’s wife.

“These stilly boys,” Max says to Eliza. “Say hi to your Aunt Anne?”

Your daughter gives a small wave, but it’s clear from the blank look on her face that she just wants to be put down to go back to Mia. Sensing this as well, Max grants her wish.

“Where’s Ed?” Dustin asks.

“In the backyard,” you say. “Playing football.”

“Football?” Dustin almost chokes on his own spit out of shock.

“I know,” you say.

“I have to see this,” Lucas says, looking towards the back door and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

He and Dustin go to join the game in the backyard while Max and Anne follow you into the kitchen. Nancy greets the new arrivals while you take up your previous position at the stove. As you lift the lid off the pot on the back burner, you listen to the women behind you talking and laughing. It brings a smile to your face to be surrounded by women friends. Besides a two-year-old, the only others in the house are guys. And as much as you love them, it’s not the same as having other ladies around.

Two sets of running feet zoom past the kitchen and the sound of the squeaky hinges on the backdoor let you know the two six-year-olds have gone to join the fun outside. You peek back out the window and chuckle to yourself when you see Mia and Tiffany cheering on the sidelines. Unsurprisingly, they seem to be cheering for the team that Luke is on. Mia’s idea, no doubt.

There are only a few more potatoes to add to the pot in front of you, so once those are in you go out into the living room to check on the younger girls. A gasp strangles out of you when you first see the two. Then as your brain has a moment to adjust and see that everything is okay, you break out into laughter.

“What did you do, little girl?” you ask your daughter. You shake your head in amusement as you walk over to the two of them, both covered in Cheerios that are also scattered around the living room floor.

Eliza grins up at you, small pieces of Cheerios still sticking to her baby teeth.

“Molly hungry!” she tells you.

“Oh, okay,” you say with a nod. “So, you thought to give her a snack like Mia did for you?”

“Mhmm!” She sounds quite proud of herself, and it makes your heart melt.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Laughter erupts from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see Max walking into the room. She takes in the mess before her and looks between the two babies.

“What’re you troublemakers doing?” she asks as she comes up beside you. 

A timer in the kitchen drags your attention away from the conversation and Max waves you on in that direction.

“Go ahead, take care of that. I’ll clean this up, then take these two outside. They can be the referees.”

“Thank you.” You give Max’s shoulder an appreciative squeeze as you walk past her.

Back in the kitchen, you turn off the timer and pull the green bean casserole out of the oven. 

Cheers ring in from the backyard, bringing a smile to your face. Anne steps up to look out the window at everyone.

“I think I’m going to go make sure no one is doing anything stupid,” she says.

“Nurse is never off duty, huh?” Nancy asks with a smile.

When Anne steps out of the room, you turn to Nancy and raise an eyebrow. 

“She wants to make sure no one is doing anything stupid?” you ask. “She clearly doesn’t know that is most of what our husbands do.”

Nancy laughs and nods her head in agreement.

“We should keep her here as an on-call nurse.”

“She’d be busier here than in the ER,” you joke. 

You and Nancy work silently side by side for a little while, before Nancy notices you starting to buzz around the kitchen more, a hectic mood settling over you. She licks over her lips before looking in your direction.

“Is something burning?” she asks.

“What?”

You whip your head around to stare at her before looking at the stove. 

“Smell it?” she asks, grabbing a paper towel to wipe her hands off on.

You take a few deep inhales, and a frown pinches your face.

“No,” you admit.

“That��s because there’s nothing burning,” Nancy says, taking a few steps closer to you. She rests her hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eye. “But it got you to take some deep breaths. Take a few more, okay?”

Catching on to her scheme, you narrow your eyes at her as you do indeed take a few more deep breaths.

“You’re sneaky,” you tell her.

“I have to be with four kids,” she replies. 

It’s not long before the game outside comes to an end and people start coming back into the house in waves. Eddie finally comes in and your heart stutters in your chest when you see him. His face is flushed from the exertion, his breathing a little labored for the same reason. His hair is frizzier than usual and when he comes closer to you, you can feel the chill coming off of him. It’s only confirmed when you put your hands on his cheeks and feel how cool they are to the touch. His smile makes you dizzy, not even registering how cold his lips are against yours when he leans in for a kiss.

“Everything smells good,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Did you win?” you ask, reluctantly going to check on the turkey.

His sigh tells you the answer before his words do.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles.

Both you and Nancy share a chuckle as he sulks out of the room. Ryan pops in right after, going over to the sink to wash his hands. His face is flushed like his father’s, but his hair is faring far better. Wayne, Theo, and Danny come in behind your son and Wayne goes into the fridge to grab water bottles for all the boys.

“Can I help?” Ryan asks you as he dries his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his head as you slip by him to grab the salt. “Do you want to get started on the stuffing?”

“Sure.”

Danny wrinkles up his nose as he takes a sip of his water.

“Cooking is for girls,” the eight-year-old declares.

“Danny!” Nancy immediately snaps. 

“Hey,” Wayne says, nudging the boy on the shoulder. “I was a cook in the army. That don’t sound girly, does it?”

Danny shakes his head, looking cowed.

“No,” he says softly.

“What do you say?” Nancy asks.

“I’m sorry.”

Ryan ruffles the boy’s hair before pretending to spill the bowl of breadcrumbs he’s carrying all over him. Danny laughs and runs away before Ryan can actually make a mess of him.

“Hey, all available squirts!” Eddie calls from the next room.

“I’m not available,” Ryan mumbles, obviously not keen on whatever his father has planned.

Luke trails into the kitchen and looks around, confused like he hasn’t lived there for years.

“Uh, I’m supposed to set the table. Where’s the stuffs?” he asks.

“By yourself?” you ask, showing him where you already have the cookery and cutlery out and ready to go.

“Nope.” 

Luke lets out a small chuckle but before you can ask what’s so funny, Mia follows in behind him. It’s clear she volunteered to be your son’s assistant.

“I’m here to help!” she announces. 

Carefully, you load up both kids with as much as you think they’re able to handle. Luckily, a parade of other small humans comes in to finish the job.

“Quite the operation you’ve got going here,” you say to your husband as you step into the dining room. “Putting the kids to work.”

“They’re my elves,” he says with a shrug. 

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen.

Ryan and Natalie amble in, neither looking too happy. Eddie doesn’t ask why; he knows they’ll tell him.

“I don’t want to sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan whines. For a fourteen-year-old, Eddie thinks Ryan gripes more than his literal baby sister.

Natalie looks at the adult table, then at the kids’ table. There are nine chairs seated at each and she’s clearly trying to figure out how two can be added to the larger table.

“Me neither,” she says while mentally calculating. 

Lucas steps into the room behind the teens and Eddie sees a great opportunity. 

“Okay, you guys can sit with us,” he tells them. “As long as you contribute to the conversation.”

“Really?” Natalie asks, instantly perking up. It amazes Eddie how quickly she goes from looking like Wednesday Addams to Pippi Longstocking.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He looks over at his former Hellfire Club member and nods at him. “By the way Lucas, did you see that the DOW is down three points today?”

Lucas doesn’t miss a beat.

“Huh,” he muses. “You know, I was just talking to my broker about that over a rousing game of golf. He suggested I take another look at my portfolio.”

“Ugh fine, we’ll sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan groans.

The two of them slink off to the other side of the room as Eddie and Lucas share a quiet laugh.

“Don’t even know if I got all the terms right,” Lucas admits.

Eddie, Ryan, Nancy, and Max all help you take the food out to the table—well, tables. Eliza watches it all as Wayne settles her in her highchair at the kids’ table. She’s practically salivating as her chocolate eyes move from dish to dish. Even Mia taking the seat between her and Luke doesn’t take her attention from her dinner. 

Annie settles Molly into her own highchair—Eliza’s old one that she outgrew. When Eddie had gotten it out of the garage both of you got a little misty-eyed that your daughter is getting so big.

The turkey is placed at the head of the table, right in front of Eddie’s seat. He picks up the large carving knife and Luke over-dramatically gasps from his place at the kids’ table. You finish scooping some mashed potatoes onto Eliza’s plate and playfully tug on one of Luke’s curls.

Eddie glances up from time to time, watching as you make sure each kid has a little bit of everything on the plate in front of them. 

“You’re gonna lose a finger, boy,” Wayne warns. The older man smiles though, at the way his nephew looks at his wife. 

Eddie sets the knife down and discreetly pops the wishbone out of the bird. If he doesn’t set it aside now all the kids will be arguing over it and Eddie isn’t sure there’s enough wine in the house to deal with that. This way, Eddie can show the kids the carved-up turkey and point to where the wishbone “should be” and shrug, telling them they’re out of luck. He looks forward to using it with you after the kids go to bed. 

You giggle as Molly reaches up and puts a dab of cranberry sauce on your nose. Eddie grins as he watches you. He had thought that seeing you with a baby wouldn’t hit him in quite the same way after Eliza was born, but it hasn’t quelled the yearning. 

Taking advantage of the kids grabbing the rolls in a frenzy, he slips the wishbone into his pocket. He already knows what his wish will be.

[norikuna]

HOLY GROUND — geto suguru

prologue. → suguru geto is effortlessly stylish, and impossibly charming, and it's no wonder that everyone loves him. and you're absolutely crushing on him. and without fail, he takes you out each afternoon, after school, to a sweet cheesecake shop, saying that it'll be nice to grab a quick treat. but as a friend...right?

pairing. geto suguru x reader

warnings+. nothing, just sugary sweet fluff! reader has some self doubt and is a bit nervous, has a bit of a crush on ol' geto.

word count. 3.03k! song inspiration. holy ground — taylor swift

a/n. this post by @shokosmokes got me thinkin...mind u i love a good angst story but its nice to just have something sweet. like cheesecake 🍰 anyway this is short but i had fun writing this short lil piece <3 lmao this is the first time i think i've written a story without someone dying or losing a limb. not beta read, we die like warriors.

mp3. tonight i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through. but i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you.

you sat across from geto at a small table by the window, marvelling at how the warm sunlight spilled in and caught the edges of his profile, lighting his features up with the last rays of summer's sweetness. you can hear the usual bustle of life on the streets of tokyo, with cars roaring down narrow streets and voices floating on the air. but here, it's just you and him.

there's a single strand of his hair that's perpetually falling out of his knot, falling against his face in a way that makes your chest tighten. the light has caught the feathery edges of his raven hair, turning the black into deep shades of brown and caramel that you want to capture within your fingers.

"you're quiet today," geto says, and he's leaning back in his chair, legs stretched wide beneath the table as he always tends to do.

you're glad you both took the time to change out of your uniform, at the dorms. the loose charcoal top drapes well against his lean, sculpted frame. his faded black jeans and scuffed docs complete the look, as though he stepped out of a glossy streetwear magazine and into your hands. there's two silver bracelets stacked on his wrists, gleaming faintly and you watch as the faint dusting of dark hair on his arms look translucent in the afternoon light.

great, you've been staring. again. heat rushes to your face, and you quickly look down at the cracked screen of your phone, hoping he didn't notice how you were practically unthreading each stitch that held him together.

"just tired," you say. though the truth has nothing to do with exhaustion, and everything to do with him.

geto tilts his head, watching you, "long day?"

you trace your finger along that shattered screen as you flip your phone open, "something like that. you know how they train us at the end of the day."

his eyes narrow for a split second, like he's the one solving a puzzle right now, but he shakes his head, "let's just go and order now. 'm starving."

this bakery is known for its whimsical creations, and you stare at the menu above the counter, wondering how many crumpled bills you can scrounge up for this outing. geto's leaning against the glass case, shoving his hands in wide pockets as his bracelets clink softly at the movement.

his eyes skim over the vibrant slices of cheesecake on display, but you know he's not really looking at the desserts. he's just giving you time.

"what do you think?"

"i don’t know," you say, dragging out the words as you squint at the labels. "how am i supposed to pick between strawberry matcha swirl and honey lavender? they all sound so - " you pause, schooling your face as the woman behind the till gives you a side-eye, "complicated."

geto chuckles, a low, warm sound that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. "why don’t you go for something fun? you always play it safe."

his words make you pause. maybe he’s right. maybe you do tend to pick the familiar, the predictable. but not today. today, you want something different — something bold. you glance at the menu again, and your eyes land on a slice that looks like a kaleidoscope of colour: tropical mango-passionfruit cheesecake with swirls of raspberry and a delicate coconut crust. it’s so bright and summery, it feels almost impossible not to smile just imagining yourself biting into it.

"that one," you say, pointing to it.

geto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "and for me…" he looks over the options for barely a second before he says, "just plain vanilla."

"tch! vanilla?" you repeat "you’re so boring."

"hey, it's a classic."

you roll your eyes, but you are so endlessly fond of him that you're smiling.

a few moments later, you’re back at your table with your slices, and the tropical cheesecake looks as perfect as it did in the case. the vibrant layers of mango, passionfruit, and raspberry practically glow in the sunlight streaming through the window.

ignoring geto's snarky comment to breathe first before inhaling it, you take your first bite, the fork sinking into the creamy texture, and for a moment, you’re hopeful.

but then...ugh. the sweetness hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses. it’s not bad, but it’s...too much. too bright. too cloying. you hesitate, unsure how to admit the mistake of your overzealous choice.

geto notices immediately, because of course he does. he leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his bracelets catching the light again, "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you say quickly, but your face must give you away because he narrows his pretty eyes in suspicion.

"you don’t like it." it's not a question, he’s grinning now.

"it’s fine," you insist, though your tone lacks conviction, and you shovel another wide piece into your mouth.

geto doesn’t say anything. instead, he picks up his fork and, before you can protest, scoops a bite from your slice. you watch as his pink lips part, and he tastes it before pulling a face, "that's sweet enough to even knock out satoru."

"hey!" you protest, though you can’t help but laugh along with him, thinking of your white-haired friend bouncing off the walls. "it’s not that bad."

"you don’t have to eat it," geto says, sliding his plate toward you and nudging your slice away. "here. take mine."

"but you don’t even like sweet things."

geto shrugs, picking up your plate and taking another bite of your overly sweet cheesecake like it’s nothing, and you watch as a mild spasm twitches across his features, "it’s fine. it's no good if you sit here and suffer through something you don't like."

you try to pretend like your chest doesn't tighten at the gesture. he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, focusing instead on his plate.

you take a bite of his vanilla cheesecake, and it’s perfect — not too sweet, just creamy and subtle enough to make you sigh in relief, "where would i be without you?" you hope that the teasing in your voice is enough to smooth over the cracks in your beating heart.

geto glances up at you then, his violet eyes meeting yours, and there’s something unguarded in his expression, something raw and warm and so achingly tender it makes your pulse skip, "i could say the same for you," he says quietly, almost as if the words weren’t meant to be heard, and far too quietly for something as trivial as an afternoon date in a café.

there's a warmth pooling in your cheeks, making your face hurt. and your thoughts loop back to the same quiet ache that you've carried for a few months now, like a sealed and perfumed love letter carried in your pocket.

every time he takes you out after class, you tell yourself, this is it. this is when i'll say it. haven't you rehearsed the words in your head, simple and clear each time?

i like you. i actually really like you a lot, suguru geto.

and every time, like clockwork, the words dissolve on your tongue, swallowed by the noise of your own uncertainty. it is hardly the case that geto isn't kind nor attentive. it's not that he's distant or cold, entirely the opposite.

if anything, he always seems...present.

but then you think about how he walks through the school hallways with that same quiet storm of charisma and charm, how his laughter draws people to him like moths to a flame, boys and girls alike.

in contrast, gojo satoru is far too much for many. there are many who choose to take a step back from him, away from the whirlwind and electrifying storm that is the six-eyes user.

but everyone wants a piece of geto's world, to be his friend or a confident, or something.

and you, what are you? just another friend he takes out after school? someone he doesn't mind spending time with when the day winds down?

your heart is once again acquainted with a knot of longing and fear that’s become far too familiar. geto doesn’t look like someone who would hesitate. he looks like someone who would know exactly what to say, exactly what to do, without second-guessing himself.

and yet, every time you’re with him, you catch these small moments of quiet — when his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, or when he says your name like it’s heavier than it should be. those moments make you wonder. what if…?

and as if he's reading your thoughts, geto shifts forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table now, and that single loose strand of hair moves with him, falling further into his face.

"something’s on your mind," he says, his pretty eyes searching yours. there’s a teasing edge to his tone, but it’s tempered with genuine curiosity, "you can tell me, you know."

you can’t help but wonder — how are you supposed to tell him that he’s the one taking up all the space in your mind? that his voice is the soundtrack to your thoughts, his smile the thing you find yourself chasing in every quiet moment?

instead, you give a small shrug, "maybe i’m just distracted."

"by what?" he presses, leaning just slightly closer, the teasing note in his voice softening into something warmer, a sincere question.

you hesitate, and you want to tell him the truth, but it feels too big, too fragile to let out into the open and so you blunder around, "maybe it’s the cheesecake," you say instead, your voice light, though the thrum of your pulse is anything but, "vanilla really is a classic."

smooth. utahime is going to be so disappointed in you. you know that she's tired of hearing about your crush by now, twirling the ribbon in her hair as she groans each time you tell her that you think you're going to pack your bags and move countries away from geto.

but now geto laughs softly, and the sound wraps around you like warmth, like home, "guess i picked the right place, then."

"you always do." your fingers brush against the cool porcelain of your plate, though you barely notice. your heart is often a traitor to your rational peace of mind, and your attention is all on him, on the way his smile lingers, softer now, the edges of his usually confident expression unraveling into something more tentative.

for a moment, geto's quiet, his gaze falling to his hands. his fingers toy with one of the silver rings on his right hand, twisting it in slow circles. It’s a small, nervous gesture, and it catches you off guard — suguru geto is never nervous.

the silence stretches in the late afternoon light, but then geto shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands fiddling with the silver rings stacked on his fingers. the movement catches your attention, and when you glance up, you notice something different about him. the easy confidence that seems to follow him like a second shadow is nowhere to be seen. instead, his jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s a flicker of something nervous in the way his fingers twist the largest ring around and around.

he's looking at you, meeting your gaze, and you’re startled by the uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes.

"hey," he says, his voice quieter than usual, a touch rough around the edges.

"yeah?"

geto exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a line before he speaks again.

"okay, look. i -” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, dislodging the tie holding his hair together, so choppy, dark locks fall around his shoulders. you school your face well enough so you don't look like you've been punched in the gut by cupid.

"i like you," he says finally, his words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been bottled up for too long, "i’ve liked you for a while now. and - and i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without, like… messing everything up."

your breath catches, the words landing like a firework in the quiet space between you. geto likes you? he likes you?

geto keeps going, as if he’s afraid to lose his nerve.

"i asked gojo for advice — stupid, i know, don't make that face — and he told me to just… keep taking you out and hope you’d get the hint. said that you'd realise eventually," and one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers you know groans, covering his face briefly with one hand, as if he's embarrassed.

"which was a terrible plan because i'm awful at hints, and apparently, so is he, considering he’s never had a girlfriend in his life."

you blink, the shock giving way to a surprised laugh, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

"wait — gojo? he's the one who gave you advice? he doesn’t even know the first thing about relationships! do you remember the time that he went on one date, and got dumped the next day for trying to buy dinner out of the vending machine."

"i know!" geto says, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, but there’s a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips now, "i know it was a bad idea. i just wanted to tell you, straight up. but I didn’t know what else to do, okay? i didn’t want to screw this up."

you fall silent at that, your laughter fading as the weight of his words sinks in. he's looking at you now, his expression open and raw in a way that makes your chest ache.

"i just — i want to do this right," he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "i want to be your boyfriend. properly. i want to take you out, and to be able to call you mine, and — i don’t know — do all the cheesy stuff couples do."

his hand brushes the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back to yours, "but if that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. you don’t have to say yes. promise i won't cry in front of you."

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, a wild, dizzying rhythm that drowns out everything else. You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s just said, with the fact that he likes you. geto—cool, effortlessly charming geto—wants to be your boyfriend.

"wait," you manage finally, your voice shaky with disbelief. "you… like me? like, you really like me?"

geto laughs softly, though there’s still a nervous edge to it. "yeah, i really do. it's probably stupidly obvious by now, isn’t it? i mean, everyone said it was so obvious, and shoko said you already knew."

you shake your head, bewildered. "no! i mean, yes — but no! i just thought you only saw me as a friend. i never thought — "

you stop yourself, realising you’re rambling, and take a deep breath. then, before you can overthink it or possibly faint, you say, "yes."

geto's thin brows furrow slightly. "yes?"

"yeah," you repeat, a smile breaking across your face. "i'd really like that. i do want to go out with you, suguru."

relief washes over his features, followed by a grin so genuine and bright it leaves you breathless. for a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name, something that makes you feel like the centre of the universe.

"oh my god, thank god, you don't even know, i was actually going to have a heart attack..." he mutters, almost to himself, before he blinks, like he's forgetting something. then, with an almost comical jolt of realisation, he clears his throat.

"right," he says, the word drawn out, as if he’s trying to ground himself. "i need to pay for the tab."

you laugh nervously, still reeling from everything that’s just happened, and shake your head quickly, thinking back to the meagre bills in your pocket. "oh, it’s okay! i can pay for my own -"

but geto's head snaps up at that, and he fixes you with a look so incredulous, so utterly affronted, that it startles you into silence.

"no way," he says, his voice firm but laced with humour and he leans forward slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of warmth that sends your heart racing all over again, "i’m your boyfriend now. you really think I’m going to let you pay?"

it's unfamiliar and thrilling all at once. your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, a mix of delight and disbelief.

"unbelievable," you say, shaking your head, but there’s no real protest in your voice.

geto grins, the expression crooked and self-assured in a way that’s so unmistakably him, and it takes your breath away. then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours before his fingers gently curl around them.

it's such a simple gesture, but it feels monumental, like the air around you shifts in response. his hand is warm, slightly calloused at the fingertips, and the way his thumb grazes over your knuckles sends a quiet thrill through you.

you glance down at your joined hands, unable to stop the soft, surprised smile that spreads across your face. when you look back up, geto is watching you, his expression open and unguarded, as if he’s memorising every detail of this moment.

"so," he says quietly, his voice softer now, "is this the part where you say you’re going to let me spoil you a little?"

you laugh again, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand in return. "i guess i don’t really have a choice now, do i?"

his smile widens, and there’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks that makes your heart ache with how much you like him.

"nope," he says, his tone teasing but earnest. "you really don’t."

and as you sit there, your hand in geto's, surrounded by the golden light and the lingering sweetness of cheesecake, you think that maybe — just maybe — this is what happiness feels like.

[yuri-is-online]

Grim being greedy with Yuu's attention and love is pretty cute and very cat of him. Though it would be funny if the guys are the ones getting jealous/are envious of Grim. Image one of them seeing Grim getting held, smooched on his cute little face, and being told what a handsome little man he is. The boy wants that to be him so bad. 🥲

I love the misplaced jealousy trope so much. It's about the contempt, embarrassment, and guilt all rolled up into one package. Anyway have a list:

Not Jealous

Kalim- the only thing he is jealous of is that he is not the one spoiling Grim, he wants to let him know what a special little boy he is too! Look he even brought some crackers-

Trey- has kid siblings, knows how fun they can be to spoil so he doesn't mind. He saves his actual jealousy for other people that try to monopolize your time and assume that since he is so laid back he will just be ok with it.

Lilia- he is too old to be jealous of a practical child, but he is a bit hurt Grim won't let him spoil either of you with some food. He worked really hard on it ˙∧˙

Rook- watching you interact with Grim is truly beautiful, he has so many pictures of the two of you together from different angles in different light and he loves them all. Also I feel like he would be the type to actually like feeling jealous? Like he would write excessively about how beautiful he finds his feelings for you to the point you wonder if he is actually jealous or just... really extra with his obsessions.

Rollo- he doesn't see Grim as competition. Point, blank, period, there is no reason to be jealous of a monster because he doesn't want you to see him as someone who needs babying. If you are going to pepper his face with kisses and tell him he is handsome he wants that to be for other reasons (and hopefully in private he isn't big on pda.)

Deuce- he has this little game with Grim where Grim tries to get him jealous but Deuce waits his turn like a good little boy and gets twice as many kisses and compliments as Grim does. Idiot falls for it every time and Deuce is way to smug about it for Yuu not to notice.

Only a Little Jealous

Ruggie- is aware enough of himself to know he has no reason to see Grim as competition. Everyone likes spoiling kids, even bratty ones, but hey. Ruggie is a greedy guy and he wants to be spoiled by you, even if he is a bit too shy to admit it.

Cater- you spoiling Grim is very camable and Cater loves taking pictures of it; even if he doesn't have your permission to post them he just likes to have them to look at. But on days where Cater is a bit more depressed it can be hard to watch, he needs some tlc to recharge and he will never say he hates seeing it go to Grim- he does hate seeing it go to Grim.

Epel- really wishes Yuu would hang out with him because they think he is cool... but cool guys like being told they're handsome and getting kisses too... right? Well doesn't matter because he does and he is torn between playing cute to get it and hoping he wakes up buff enough to flirt with Yuu the way he wants.

Silver- he isn't aware that he is jealous because he knows why he shouldn't be, he has animals following him around everywhere so it would be hypocritical of him to be jealous of the attention you give Grim. But he is, he really likes your affection and is jealous for it.

In Denial

Vil- world famous super model Vil Schoenheit does not get jealous, people get jealous of him. And he certainly does NOT get jealous of monsters who aren't real rivals for your attention and he does not look at how you spoil Grim and think to himself how nice it would be to be able to be that free with his affection. On a completely unrelated note are you free in about an hour? He has some lipsticks he needs to swatch.

Jade- let's get one thing straight, Jade never gets actually jealous he just pretends to be because it's funny. He definitely is not watching you kiss Grim's little face and actually think of throwing him halfway across campus. Now if you could just look the other way for a second- oh why are you looking at him like that he would never actually hurt Grim. But just to make sure maybe you could buy him off with a kiss? Pretty please?

Sebek- thinks that he is above being jealous but has that ruffled wet cat look complete with the trembling lower lip as soon as he sees you and Grim. He isn't fooling anyone, please also spoil the croco he will call you an idiot but he is only doing that because he is too flustered to talk properly.

Jack- you are his mate, his one and only, the moon in the sky that is his life so why oh why does watching you spoil Grim make him want to die? Maybe it's because it is a bit hard for him to admit when he wants your affection so seeing you be so free with Grim makes those same words bubble up in his throat. Thank goodness he has a tail, otherwise you would never know when he wants a smooch.

Riddle- touch starved? Check. Proud? Check. Obsessed with rules to the point that it makes him a bit stiff when it comes to how he rationalizes his desires for affection? Oh you don't even know. He doesn't realize what he is feeling is jealousy and just assumes Yuu is breaking some sort of rule of social etiquette and that's why he is so mad at Grim. If he gets a kiss out of this he will probably pass out.

Visibly Seething

LEONA- is a petty bitch. He needs to feel like he is in charge and has a weird sort of competition with Grim because of how vaguely feline he is. Leona is the bigger cat so he should be the one Yuu is kissing on and not the whiny baby. leona says fuck them kids

Floyd- Floyd isn't always jealous. Sometimes he thinks watching Yuu spoil Grim is really funny! Just look at baby seal, all whiny and spoiled just like a real baby, so cute ♡ But when he has decided that he, Floyd, is the one who should be receiving kisses the eel is an absolute menace. Running won't help you.

Azul- he is touch starved and repressed and while it should be cute watching you spoil Grim... he doesn't think it is. Or rather he can't, he is too caught up in white knuckling his grip on his cane because oh seas he wishes that were him, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET THAT BE HIM

Jamil- thinks he is playing it smooth and isn't coming off as jealous at all but he is. I once wrote that he would be jealous of the air you breathe and Grim is much more solid than that. He tries to play off his interruption as him just having had a rough day but Grim knows what he is and is not impressed. he totally sticks his tongue out at grim when yuu isn't looking what a loser

Ace- Grim has this weird game he plays with Ace where he behaves extremely well and gets a bunch of kisses and praise while Ace seethes in the corner until he finally snaps and whines for your attention. Ace does not wait his turn like a good boy and he and Grim are constantly competing for who gets the most kisses.

Malleus- Mal Mal is a bit of a spoiled brat. He hasn't had a lot of friends, so him wanting to be around Yuu and have their attention whenever he wants is natural but... he really isn't the best at sharing. But never mind that isn't his face much more kissable than Grim's child of man? (￣ε￣)

C-c-combo

Idia- no I didn't forget hims shut up. He goes through all four stages in that exact order. Not jealous because Mr. Grim is so cute he deserves all the kissies in the world, to a little jealous because he wishes Grim would let him spoil him too, to in denial because pssh there's no waaay you would ever want to give a weeb like him kisses or think he was handsome, to outright seething because Grim starts making fun of him. He is too brave enough to handle Yuu's affection! He instantly passes out after he gets one kiss

[moonlight-records]

A Nonsense Christmas| LH44 (HAC #9)

pairing: lh44 x reader

summary: you're performing at this year's IHeartRadio's Jingle Ball. Your boyfriend is here to support and being the naughty boy he is, has to have some fun with you.

warning: SMUT. oral (f receiving), fingering, lewis loves to spoil reader!!!

fc: sabrina carpenter!

wc: 1.6K

a/n: day 9 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar! also maybe a part two to this??

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | current day | day 10

“Hey babe–damn.” A low whistle behind you, “I’ve never wanted to be on the naughty list more than I do at this moment.”

You look through your mirror to see Lewis leaning against the doorway while your music plays in the background. You put your brush down and turn, smiling at your boyfriend. “You like?” You ask as you gesture to your outfit. You’re in a red corset with a heart shaped window that exposes the tiny bit of cleavage. Attached was a red lacy skirt that barely qualified for a skirt when standing still or sitting with how bunched up it became and therefore, almost nonexistent. Thankfully, you had matching red spanx’s under it.

“I do.” Lewis hums as he looks over your bedazzled corset before his eyes fall to your legs. “Do you have tights underneath?”

“I do,” you gently pull the skin colored tights away from your leg, “skin toned. Why? Worried people would get to see how wonderfully smooth my legs are?” You joke as Lewis makes his way over, laughing. “No, I was worried you’d get cold and everyone would focus on the goosebumps instead of your beautiful face and singing.” Lewis hums as he looks down at you before you gently place your silver bedazzled platform heel against his chest, smiling innocently as the clasps dangle. Lewis glances at you with a raised brow before smiling and clasping your shoe. You drop your foot and he gently pats his chest as you put your other foot against his chest as he clasp your other shoe. “Thank you darling.” You hum as you turn back around to finish your makeup as Lewis kisses your head gently, “you’re welcome, love.”

Grabbing a chair, Lewis sits next to you while watching you finish your makeup. “Do you have a copy of your set list?” You happily slide him the set list while applying your lipstick. You lean back after cleaning up the corners and glance to your boyfriend before grabbing his chin gently and planting kisses all over his face. You giggle, pulling back to admire the pale lipstick littering your boyfriend’s face. Lewis blinks away his shock before leaning in to look at himself in the mirror, laughing softly. “What’s this?” He looks at you. “Getting rid of the excess lipstick,” you remark innocently.

“Oh really? Because to me, it looks like you’re making your territory.” Lewis smirks as he tilts his head slightly. You look at him, and hate how god damn stunning your boyfriend looks. Even in his simple black long sleeve and matching jeans with combat boots, he looked like a Greek God trying to disguise themselves as human. You can’t help yourself as you close the gap, kissing him.

It’s very rare that you and Lewis take things “slow”. Sure, in the beginning you and Lewis tested the water, especially Lewis history with dating pop stars. You refused to be burned like the others and Lewis, much more calmer now that he’s older, wanted to prove that he changed and was serious. It was nice. The dates, the lazy mornings when he was home, the sex.

Sex with Lewis was probably the best. Sure, it was because he was older and actually knew what he was doing but there was much more. He was attentive. He was caring. He was open and very vocal and yet so laid back. You didn’t have to pretend that you liked something with Lewis or have to keep quiet on trying new things. You two would sit in the tub after, debriefing and telling each other what you guys like and don’t like. You two were open with fantasies and kinks. It was probably the first relationship where you felt so cared for and heard in bed that you constantly wanted to be riding your boyfriend.

But right now, you two had about 20 minutes before you were going to be brought backstage to perform next so slow was not an option. Pulling back, your breathing was labored as you found yourself straddling Lewis feeling his hard as you shift your hips, smirking when a low groan escapes past Lewis lips. You yelp in surprise when Lewis picks you up before placing you on the vanity. Your eyes flutter close, feeling Lewis start to kiss and nip at your neck, rolling your hips against his. “Ah, be careful Mr. Hamilton. I have to go on soon and can’t have people focused on the hickies.” Lewis pulls back and you giggle seeing him still littered with all your lipstick stains. You were a hypocrite, yes, but it would take you forever to carefully cover all of them given your outfit basically covered nothing.

“How long do you have till you go out to perform?” Lewis asks. “20 minutes.” Lewis thinks. “I can get you to finish in ten.” Lewis murmurs which makes you shudder as he hooks a finger under your spanx and you lift your hips to help him pull them down just enough, taking your panties and tights as well while Lewis drops to his knees and tosses your legs over his shoulders. “Lewis!” You hiss as he kisses your inner thighs, looking up at you through his lashes, “hm?” Your heart flips seeing that mischievous grin on his face. Putting your lips together, “if you don’t get me off in ten minutes I’ll be really upset.”

“Oh baby,” Lewis murmurs, working his way up your thigh, “I would be more worried about if you’ll be able to perform when I’m done.” Lewis murmurs slowly against your skin as he starts to gently play with your folds. You whine as Lewis tries to softly shush you. Before you can ask, Lewis pulls your thighs apart as far as they can go before dipping his head between your legs.

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the loud moan as Lewis takes a long deep lick across your slit. The heat from his tongue makes your head dizzy as he finally gets to work. You tilt your head back against the mirror as his tongue starts working on your clit. Your free hand flies to his braids when his tongue switches from kitten licks and figure eights. You arch your back mouth falling open when Lewis inserts two fingers into you, making a v-shape.

You snap your mouth shut as you fumble for your phone to turn your music up praying it’ll mask the almost pornographic noises that Lewis was creating between your legs. “I—fuck. Lewis,” you moan lowly as you try to keep your voice in check. You did not want to be banned from getting ahead before performing. You make the grave mistake of looking down and oh fuck.

Lewis is looking up at you through those stupidly beautifully long lashes. His lips and chin are slick and glistening from your juices when he pulls away just a few mere centimeters. Your chest is heaving, face and body flushed, and legs trembling slightly. The familiar burning is starting to form in your lower stomach as Lewis curls his fingers and hits that spot. You arch your back again and tug at his braids which causes Lewis to grunt softly. “Yes darling?” Lewis murmurs as he leaves wet kisses your inner thighs while continuing to pump his fingers into you.

A shudder runs down your thigh when you feel Lewis’ breath on your core before his head dips back between your legs. Your orgasm is rapidly approaching and let out a silent scream when it hits you harder than before. Your legs shake as you tip your head back, instinctively closing your legs and attempting to crush Lewis with your thighs. He grips your thighs tightly trying to free his jaw slightly as he works you through your orgasm, cleaning you up with his tongue. He finally leans back, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. “Beautiful.” Lewis murmurs as he stands.

You're seeing stars with your legs still shaking slightly but finally look at your boyfriend. Grabbing his wrist, you take his fingers into your mouth and lick his fingers clean. You watch his eyes darken even more as his breath becomes a bit labored as he watches you before slipping his fingers out of your mouth. You tilt your head when Lewis leans over you, kissing your neck up to your jaw, murmuring against your skin. “So beautiful and good for me. You look so good spread out for me like this.” He works his way up to your ear nipping softly at your earlobe. “We’ll finish this after your set, okay?”

You hum gently while bringing your gaze down to his pants. You bite your lip because damn, you really were willing to risk a ban if it meant having Lewis inside you. “You sure?” You ask as Lewis grabs some wipes nearby (and double checking they were baby wipes) before cleaning you up gently and then his face which included some lipstick stains but that’s fine. “Positive. You have to perform soon and don’t think you want to look so messy for your fans,” Lewis smirks. He helps you off the vanity and even has the courtesy to help you pull up your tights and shorts.

Once you sit in your seat, Lewis kisses you on the forehead with a smile. “I’ll see you after. Remember, have fun and be yourself. You’ll do great.” He massages your shoulders for a moment before you turn and give Lewis a kiss and watch him start for the door, adjusting himself and glancing back. “Is there—”

“Right next door.”

Lewis grins, mouthing a ‘thank you’ and ‘love you’ before heading to the bathroom. You turn back and smile while shaking your head. Fixing yourself, you stand up and shake slightly. Grabbing your cane, you use it as a walking stick as you head backstage for more nonsense Christmas fun.

[squiddy-god]

Malleus, Azul, Lilia, jack, idia with an s/o who’s bad at self care

Malleus draconia

Mall is confused??

Why is the human not takeing care of themselves???

Only really notices after he sees your health, both mental and physical, start to decline

Asks Lilia about what to do because he’s clueless when it comes to humans.

Once he knows however he’s going straight to you and he’s goona make you do self care whether you like it or not.

It’s simple self care but it’s self care.

Pops out of nowhere and proceeds to make you drink water, no he doesn’t care that you did 5 minuets ago his s/O needs to stay hydrated.

If for whatever reason the dark fae is unable to remind you to take a break or eat or drink water he’ll have sebek bring you a water bottle

Makes you take little breaks

Watches you like a hawk because he wants to make sure that you arnt pushing yourself.

Simple but effective self care is the way to go with malleus, it’ll always be pretty simple but it’s all the love and care he puts into things like makeing you eat something or makeing you drink water.

Azul ashengrotto

Your both in the same boat here

Azul definitely over works himself and 100% isn’t very good with self care

But when he sees the signs that you also aren’t? He tries.

Noticed pretty quickly, he’s the same way and knew the signs of a lack of self care.

He makes Shure you both eat some food and also that you both drink water, maybe even take a little break.

See, you not being good at self care gets him to do alot of little things for the both of you, like in order for you to take a break he has to take a break, and if you drink water he will suddenly feel thirsty.

Sometimes it won’t actually be a “break but more of a change in location. Can be having you feel like a sad zoo animal

He’ll drag you to mostro lounge/out of his office and will sit with the fishes or other things depending on were you are

Azuls also likes to rant and listen to you rant. He’s a good listener and will listen to you vent for as long as you need while you both cuddle because he's✨✨touch starved✨✨

Azuls self care is a lot of little things that make a big difference he really does try for you and you gradually get better together

Lilia vanrouge

Noticed right away and his dad senses kicked in

You really thought he wouldn’t notice after raising 3 kids???

Hahahahhahahkekekeke

Makes you drink lots of water, go on walks, take breaks have a nice shower, the works.

He often has to remind sebek to take breaks and drink water, same with silver but for different reasons

Tries to cook for you so you have something to eat but I think that’s more self harm then care if you eat it.

But hey! It’s the thought that counts!

Scolds you lightly when you don’t self care and gives you "the dad lecture” ™

His internal clock is wired to chime of at certain times of day and make sure everyone drinks water/eats/takes a break

He’s very good about self care and he subtly ingrains it into your very soul.

Almost trains you like pavlovs dogs kekekekek

At a certain time you’ll feel the sudden urge to have a little self care, whether you like it or not.

10/10 dad Lilia comes through once again

Jack howl

Aggressively cares about you

You better self care or else

*chucks water bottle at you* stay hydrated!!!

Gives you a plant because plants are good and you need it

Makes you take breaks whether you like it or not

Good luck not self careing

He can sense if you haven’t

Seriously its like a 6th sence

Like you can be walking by and he’ll come up to you and tell you to go self care

Don’t argue with him

It’s pointless

Imagine doing face masks with Jack

Idia shroud

Alright so this is a weird on because like Azul idia is high key shit at takeing care of himself

But on the other hand he definitely worries about the people he cares about

So when he notices (almost instantly) that his light, his player 2, isn’t takeing care of themselves?

🅝🅞

So he forces you to self care, shower, drink water, eat something other then monster and Doritos (or candy)

Also has you do face masks and things he found on “howtorelax. Com”

Witch is really good because it kinda tricks him into doing self care himself

So you’ll both get something (somewhat) good to eat, put on a face mask and watch anime together

👉👈 maybe cuddle

It’s really shocking how adamant he is about self care when he himself is so bad at it for himself, but your someone he cares about, a lot, so of course he’s worried about you

Has set timers on his computers for when you should get water and take a break/cuddle him

Expect visits from his tablet and/or ortho telling you to drink water/come to Ignyhide

Idia still won’t go outside-outside but maybe a little walk around Ignyhide won’t hurt (but only if your with him)

Also walks you to class when he’s (unjustly) forced to attend a physical class

And as much as he would like to just nyoom and zoom to his next class lickaty split he makes small stops to get water with you if it isn’t to busy (a.k.a. no people)

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

I've been watching random videos on YouTube that keep popping up and the comments and the hate on Lando is so out of proportion, controversial and hypocritical, I saw a comment that he is too active online and was liking hate comments about himself after BrazilGP so I was wondering if you could do a smau where he has a friend that has faced slvtshaming and hate and stayed soft and sweet through all her hard times, and she is always there just grounding him whenever he's too much on his head or isolating himself. Maybe she helps him with his anxiety and makes him see himself through a softer gentle light and she's just really chill and always sees the silver lining, always supports and uplifts everyone and the content that she follows is just girls that go on walks, yoga, reading nooks, shops of handmade stuff like those in cotswolds etc. I don't know if it's too much or uncomfortable for you, but I'd really like to see that if you could. Oh and maybe she's Edinburgh based? Have a nice one! X

peace ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

���� ִֶָ ln x reader ᥫ᭡

𓍯 ִֶָ smau + fluff ᥫ᭡

masterlist ☾☼

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 901,573 others

landonorris resetting. thank you for the reminder yourusername

view all 711,900 comments

yourusername Anytime, you big dummy. Did you bring the tea I packed for you? 💨☕ 

user1 y/n's the real MVP. Lando's gonna feel way too zen here! 💙 

user2 We love a supportive friendship. Keep going, mate! Ignore the noise. 🌟

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, lnfour, and 884,012 others

landonorris Not the weekend I hoped for, but we move. Thank you to everyone who sticks by me even on the tough days. 🧡

view all 902,811 comments

user5 Ignore the haters, Lando, you’re doing great!! 💪🏽

user3 How is he liking hate comments about himself? 😒 Weird behavior.

user4 Sometimes people cope in strange ways. Let’s try to give grace. 💛

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, user10, and 7,421 others

yourusername Anxiety feels like a storm, but it passes if you stay grounded. 🕊️ I remind myself that the world is still soft and beautiful.

view all 3,371 comments

user11 This is the energy I need today. Thank you. 🌱✨

landonorris What if I brought my storm to Edinburgh? Would it pass faster? 👀

yourusername Only if you let me ground you.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 7,005 others

yourusername Grateful moments, little joys, and grounding souls ✨

view all 2,832 comments

user15 Okay, but Lando looks suspiciously calm in that last pic… y/n, teach us your ways! 🖤

landonorris never realised how fun pottery would be! <3

user16 she's literally my inspiration

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 812,003 others

landonorris Found my peace here. 🕊️ Thanks to yourusername for reminding me the world is softer than I think.

view all 712,032 comments

user18 This is the wholesome content we need. 🧡

yourusername Storms don’t scare me anymore. 😉

landonorris You’re braver than I am.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm not sure if i love this personally, because i don't think i did this justice, but i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[haikyu-mp4]

Foreign

word count; 1664 – f!reader, chubby reader

this is dedicated to the amazing writer and my very good friend, @cottonlemonade <3

You were new to Inarizaki this fall, starting in the middle of the semester. What a great time to try and make new friends, right? It is even better when you’re moving from another country and not fluent in the language. Sure, you understood Japanese well, but you could be quite slow in answering, so many of those you tried to interact with simply couldn’t be bothered, especially teenagers.

So when the principal sent an e-mail a few days before you started school, informing you that Kita Shinsuke would be showing you around on your first days, your expectations weren’t very high.

Needless to say, you were proven wrong. You got along very well with the kind boy who had the patience to wait for you to gather your words. It didn’t take long for him to suggest you join a club, asking if you might be interested in managing his volleyball team. He insisted that it could give you a boost into the social circles, but made sure you knew it was all up to you.

Here you are, two days after starting Inarizaki and standing at the entrance of the volleyball court with a tray of one of your favourite recipes from your home country. The tray was pushing into your squishy stomach as you clutched the sides nervously and tried to take a mental note of all the names you knew and the ones you would have to learn.

Everyone’s attention shifted when Kita cleared his throat and gestured towards you while looking at some of his teammates with strict eyes. “This is the girl I told you about, she will be trying out for manager this week so I expect you all to behave.”

Their gazes went to you and you gulped, quickly lifting the tray. “I brought a peace offering,” you said, having practised saying that in Japanese in the minutes before Kita met up with you.

Most of them slowly started coming over, but one seemed particularly drawn towards you, making his identical twin try and speed past him to reach you first. “What is this?” the silver-haired twin asked while fighting off the other one so he could grab first.

“It’s a recipe from my home country…” and as you explained it to him, you were thrilled to see he didn’t immediately get bored of you taking your time with finding the words. While all the other team members came and grabbed their pieces before settling somewhere in the gym to stretch and eat, Miya Osamu, who at some point remembered to introduce himself, stayed put in front of you to listen while munching on and appreciating the delicious homemade food.

“So you’re a foodie too, have you cooked any Japanese food yet?” he asked, and you tucked the tray under one arm now that it was empty, following him as the two of you walked over to where the manager should be.

“I haven’t, my parents don’t know much about it too,” you answered honestly.

Osamu chuckled. “Either,” he corrected, giving you the right Japanese expression for it. “They don’t know much either.” You blushed, looking to the side and only then noticing that the others were gathering to start practice. “But I could show you sometime? My mom and I love cooking.”

That is how you ended up in this predicament, wearing a matching apron with Osamu while Atsumu sat by the kitchen island with a judgy look.

You were a bit uncomfortable at first, wondering if the apron was too tight and exposed one too many of your curves for him to look at you like that, but you tried not to think about it when Osamu was being so nice and lending his time. After all, Osamu had not-so-subtly touched your waist or lower back whenever he had to move past you even if there really was no reason to do so.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you started, using your kindest voice, not noticing how Osamu sharply looked up from where he was preparing the last fillings. “Since I’ll be the manager, why don’t you tell me about being a setter?”

Atsumu leaned on his hand with his elbow on the counter and let his face slowly fall off it with his eyes closed. “Sorry! Almost fell asleep there, you were taking so long.”

Osamu was about to launch a whole spoon at his brother’s head “Ya stupid-“ when you burst out laughing.

It made Osamu’s stomach do flips as he watched you laugh with one hand leaning on the counter and the other clutching your chubby stomach. “You’re quite rude, aren’t ya?” you asked rhetorically, having already picked up a piece of their dialect.

Atsumu perked up in his seat when you didn’t seem to break under his insult, fighting back a smile of his own at how your laughter rang off the kitchen walls. “Pff, shut up.”

“You seem pretty intent on staying around so I can’t be that bad,” you teased, and it held just enough charm for him to accept it.

Atsumu squinted at you before going back to leaning on his palm. “I was just hoping to steal some food.”

You looked at Osamu with your sweet smile and said “What’s next, chef?”

The redness creeping up Osamu’s neck was not easy to hide. “Uhh, right. Just to shape them, really.”

“Is there a trick to make it nice?” you asked, holding some rice in one hand and eyeing the filings.

“If you count rounds, it’s easier than just squeezing randomly, so work your way around the shape-“ he explained, showing you with his rice ball as he talked.

You stared at your hands before shaping some rice and filling it, before grabbing another half of rice and… not making it quite as pretty. “Sorry, could you show me one more time? I want to do it as well as you without using moulds.”

Osamu started picking up more rice before stopping abruptly, throwing it back in the bowl and moving closer to you. That dummy had watched enough clichés to figure this was the perfect opportunity to wrap his hands around yours and show you. He executed said cliché perfectly, and the way your warm hands felt was almost enough to distract him from the task.

“Disgusting, right in front of my salad,” Atsumu complained before finally walking out of the kitchen to presumably bother their mother instead.

The two of you started filling and shaping the onigiri, bumping into each other now and then and throwing out flirty comments. If all the students at Inarizaki were so welcoming, you would be more than fine.

On Friday, after your last class, Kita stood outside your classroom and patiently waited for you. He bowed shortly after you exited, making you return the gesture. “Kita! What a pleasure,” you said.

He gestured towards the hallway so you could start walking together. “I wanted to ask how your first week has been.”

There’s a little skip in your step as you start thinking of this week. “I had trouble with some girls in the cafeteria, but I’m already feeling like my Japanese is developing much quicker so I’m sure it will all work out.”

Kita hummed under his breath, seemingly in thought for a moment before responding. “I see, I’m glad you’re looking on the positive side.” He turned a corner, making sure you followed as he steered towards the gym. “And the team? How are you feeling about the manager position?”

“They’re all very nice. Chaotic but fun,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Osamu has been especially welcoming, even though Atsumu gave me a hard time at first,” you continued, laughing at the last part.

Kita frowned, slowing down slightly. “A hard time? I hope you don’t feel pressured to accept the position, Atsumu can be… he has an attitude, but he works hard,” he excused, using his hands to gesture, and it was the first time you saw Kita look even a tad unsure.

Your short laughter made him stop, looking curiously at you. “I was going to say that if you’ll still have me, I’d love to accept the position.”

“That’s great news.” A small smile appeared on his face and that was enough for you, as you opened the door to the gym and gestured for him to walk first.

Osamu came jogging over the second you entered. “Hey, captain!” he greeted Kita as he passed him, heading straight for you. “How do you feel about trying something more complicated this weekend?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as if suggesting something much dirtier than cooking.

You shot him some finger guns, smooth as ever as he walked backwards towards the bench area while you faced him. “You’re on!” you responded cheerfully.

“Is my place still okay?” he asked, just as Atsumu walked over and bumped his shoulder, making him trip over his feet. You frantically held your cute, chubby hand out and he grabbed it before you helped him up again. You must have been a sight to see with your matching red cheeks.

“You lovebirds gonna take up the kitchen again?” Atsumu sighed dramatically. You noticed over his shoulder that Suna was filming this as Osamu caught his brother in a headlock.

“Leave our new manager alone!” Aran said in an authoritative yet fond voice. Kita stood beside him with his arms crossed, so you assumed he had told Aran that you accepted.

“So it’s decided?” Osamu asked, and the excitement in his voice was palpable.

“I will was your manager starting today!” you announced, already picking up the basket with their water bottles to go fill them up.

“Will be our manager,” Atsumu corrected, probably about to make another quip at you, only to be interrupted by Osamu chuckling affectionately and coming over to take the basket from you.

Kita shook his head at their antics. This would be a fun year with his team.

masterlist

[mahtariel-of-himring]

When Elrond stepped upon the ship that was to take him, Galadriel, Gandalf, Bilbo, Frodo and a few others to Valinor he was nervous. So long had imagined what it might be like, and for some time even questioned if he would ever sail.

But here he was, stood upon their ship with the undying lands finally in sight after months of sailing across the unending ocean. He might be a mariners son but he certainly had no great love for boats, he didn’t have a problem with them, but the knowledge of not having ground beneath his feet still made him uneasy.

At their arrival many awaited them, to welcome the newcomers into the blessed lands.

High King Arafinwë, in Middle Earth better known as Finarfin, and his other children had come to welcome Galadriel.

Gandalf reunited with some old Maia friends of his and then escorted the hobbits that had joined them to a nice little cottage for them to spend their days in.

He himself recognized many of the faces in the small crowd. First he spotted Gil-Galad, who welcomed him with open arms. Then his beloved Celebrian, who pulled him into a hug the moment he saw her, she was much better now.

A few soldiers of Rivendell were there as well, happy to see their Lord again.

Elrond ended up settling in Tirion with all the others and moved into Celebrian‘s home. It was a nice house with a good view and easy access to the marked and other nearby shops and market places.

Tirion was flawless. The white towers with their pointy roofs, the elegant guards with their silver spears, the marked place with its various stalls and merchants.

He met many of his ancestors, some he got along with and some he didn’t.

The first he met was Turgon, it took half an hour for them to end up in an argument about the moralities of handling delicate situations within one‘s own city and when to help those in need.

Luckily his second meeting went much better. His great grandfather, Fingolfin, was much more sensible and they got along quickly due to their shared knowledge on leadership and experience of hardships throughout their lives. Though the late High King did comment to his wife Anairë later about how he was sure he‘d bite his teeth out on Elrond eventually, comparing his stubbornness to someone else’s.

When he at last met Fingon it took the elf exactly five minutes to ask if he had been raised by Maedhros. To this day Elrond didn’t understand how he did it, for he himself wasn’t aware of the small details. Like how he did his hair exactly like the fëanorian had or that he held himself with something of Valinorian regalness he definitely didn’t pick up in Lindon.

But as time went on Elrond began to realize something.

Tirion was truly perfect.

Too perfect.

Everyone seemed to have collectively decided to ignore any pains and hardships experienced in Middle Earth or Beleriand and live their lives as if everything was perfectly fine.

When bringing this up to Gil-Galad he just said that they preferred it that way, even if it wasn’t perfect, not everyone had made the journey and seen war, and those who didn’t weren’t comfortable of discussing or displaying it.

The more time Elrond spend in the white city the lonelier he felt. It seemed as if he was the only one prepared to speak of or even mention anything of the things that happened to so many of them.

The more he realized that the more he felt out of place.

Because he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it actually.

He had gone through things most couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares and had seen horrors he wished he could forget.

He had seen his city attacked, had been kidnapped, even though that did turn out positively in the end. Had witnessed war and bloodshed from young on, had served as Herald and later taken on the mantel of Lord. He had seen so much that he just couldn’t ignore.

So one day he mounted his horse and rode out of Tirion. He didn’t have a destination or any idea where he was going but he just kept riding until he was exhausted.

When he looked up he saw a large city with high towers, but no pointy roofs were atop them, instead there stood guards. The walls weren’t made of white stone and marble but steadfast and resistant cobblestone and tall pillars.

The front guards let him in after he explained his situation, and the moment he stepped through those gates it was as if he had entered another world. No excessive jewelry was worn, but rather detailed braids and head dresses or simple circlets.

Scars of all types were openly portrayed instead of covered up and hidden as if they were sometimes to be ashamed of.

Elrond saw elves with walking sticks and missing limbs and crippled bodies. They were warriors, they were survivors, they were the ugly but real truth, and it felt so relieving too see them.

He had no idea where he had ended up in, but he already knew it was much better than Tirion.

No one was putting on a fake mask of perfection and instead just acted as they truly were.

Elrond walked through the streets, talked with some of the locals and listened to their stories.

He heard everything from ex soldiers to healers like him to guards and even some escaped thralls of Angband.

It was so much better than the flawlessly perfect white city. It wasn’t fake.

Elrond ended up in what seemed to be a throne room. At the end of it stood a elf, dressed in a long robe, his hair littered with many braids and a elegant silver hammer in hand.

His eyes were of piercing grey and his hair as black as the night, but his gaze familiarly gentle.

Elrond knew before he spoke.

Elrond knew before he looked up.

Elrond knew before he stepped closer.

Elrond knew before he even acknowledged him.

He knew where he was, and he knew he would stay.

[crestfallenyh]

new light ; jyh

cw: yunho x reader. reader making things hard for no reason, so this is quite long. sweet boyfriend yunho. a bit of a corruption kink. unprotected sex. backshot lol. breath play, hair pulling, biting and overall roughness mixed with a natural sweetheart yunho. not proofread, i'm testing the waters to start posting again.

"you should still talk to him, you know"

seonghwa's slightly muffled voice made its way to you as you groaned in disagreement with your face buried on his pillow. he gave you a sympathetic look before laying on the bed next to you, propping himself up on his elbows and seemingly preparing to repeat the same speech about trust and communication he'd already given you twice in the past hour. before he could start, you rolled on your back and laid there, staring at the ceiling where the silver lightning from his bedside lamp drew funny shapes.

"i know i should, i'm just not sure if i'm ready to face his rejection yet"

you ignored the stern look he shot at you, he knew better than anyone how dramatic you could get when it came to your relationship. your fears were not unfounded, though. you had been thinking over and over for the past couple of weeks about the topic and yet you couldn't bring yourself to speak to yunho about your worries, and as much as you shouldn't do it, you couldn't help but convince yourself time and time again that it wasn't worth bringing it up. you wondered why, because your boyfriend hadn't been anything but supportive throughout the couple months you had been together. perhaps that was the problem. deep down you knew he wasn't going to judge you, much less laugh at you, as understanding as he was. it was just that the relationship was still quite new, feelings yet so fresh that despite his bright personality, he was often rather shy around you. the thought of him looking at you with flustered cheeks and doubt on his gaze, not from nervousness and anticipation but because of embarrassment, held you back from getting too sincere with him.

"i know he's gonna listen and maybe even try if i ask, but i don't want him to do anything he's not comfortable with," you sighed and put a hand over your eyes, the lights suddenly too bright.

"you wouldn't, though," seonghwa tried to reason, "yunho is not the type to not tell when he doesn't like something. also, i have a feeling he might be into that even if he doesn't know yet"

and with that you were left thinking. in more than one occasion you tried to play different scenarios in your head on how he could respond. your soft and sweet giant... how would he react if you ever told him about the dark fantasies running through your mind everytime you saw him, simply existing? what would he say if he knew how badly you wanted him to share the same passion for roughness you had, the same hunger?

up until that moment your sex life had been good, for the most part. he was always respectful and mindful of his strength whenever he held you, kissing you with light pressure and fucking you equally as soft. you liked it, but you wanted more. you needed more. you needed his weight on top of you, suffocating and hot. you needed his hands everywhere, those long fingers of his biting into your skin. he was always nice to everyone, it was no surprise he would be gentle in bed too, but you didn't want him to be nice to you. not in that instance.

maybe it was worth a shot. maybe if you told him what you wanted, he would find a new side to himself too. your hope it was, at least. that's why, by the time you met with him at your place a couple of days after your conversation with seonghwa, you were so nervous it was impossible for you to look him in the eye because the possibility of it going wrong scared you as much as the possibility of it going great. he noticed, of course. after all, he was always perceptive of any minimal expression you made and although he tried not to worry, his mind wandered off to sad places whenever he tried to touch you, hug you or kiss you and a slight hint of a wince appeared on your face. were you about to break up with him or something? his mind was restless, and the atmosphere was somewhat tense, with short whispered answers and stolen glances. you hadn't felt that awkwardness in forever. instead of dissipating the awkward feeling, the anxiousness of the situation going in the wrong direction already made you grow even more coy, and you reprimanded yourself. pull it together, you thought.

ten minutes into the movie you were watching and he sighed, pausing it and looking at you with a question in his eyes. impressive, you thought. he held quite well, but it was now your turn to hold your breath. you weren't ready, but you knew you had to let it out. one big sigh of yours after and you tried to ignore the slight shake in yunho's hands as he repositioned on the couch. him being as nervous as you somewhat calmed you, though you didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

"it's nothing bad, i promise," you caressed the back of his wrist with your index finger, rummaging through your brain to find the right words, "it's just... you know, i've enjoyed our relationship quite well so far..."

yunho's eyes were fixated on your expression as you spoke for several minutes about how much you liked spending time with him and how he was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for, so intense that you couldn't help but avoiding his gaze. you said not to worry but your body was sending contrasting signals, eyes looking everywhere but him and twitching hands. he was slowly spiraling, waiting for the 'but' within your ramble. he couldn't even feign nonchalance.

"... i've never quite liked being with someone like i do with you, but..." yunho gulped, "... you know, i just.."

"what is it, love? are you not comfortable with something i did? tell me what is it and i'll fix it"

you shook your head slowly, finally making eye contact, "i don't think it's something you did, yunho. it's more like something i want but i fear i might make this awkward"

"you know when we have, you know, sex?," yunho nodded, more confused than before, "well, there's a lot of things i wanna try, and don't get me wrong, i like what we do now but i just... i don't know if you would want to do most of those things, and that's why i don't want to make you uncomfortable"

you cringed on your seat, suddenly hyper aware of the fact you were finally saying it and wondering if you should backtrack.

yunho's eyebrows furrowed.

"try me, y/n. do you want me to tie you up in the air or something?," he was so very obviously trying to joke but seeing how you made yourself small against the couch, he coughed, "wait, seriously?"

"would that make you uncomfortable?"

he stopped for moment to think about it, and finally shook his head no. he'd never tried in the past and he'd actually never thought of something like that to do with you, so he was surprised at his own answer. he considered himself a pretty standard guy when it came to intimacy, vanilla, if you will. he was too aware of the size of his body, so he never entertained the idea even though he knew people did lots of stuff out there. the more he thought now, the more he found himself interested on how the whole thing would play out. he was only worried about the safety of it all, and as such he explained to you. you listened, still a bit shaken up, relishing on how he was seemingly taking it serious even when barely anything had been discussed and you yourself had never thought of trying bondage, not too much at least.

"but seriously, if you wanted us to try something different, you should've told me before doll," he noticed how his words could come up as nagging, so he explained further, "i believe you when you say you've enjoyed it so far, but i'm always open to listen and i would want you to love it, instead of liking it"

and so, a long discussion ensued. at first it took a lot of courage from you to stop downplaying your actual desires and took a lot from yunho to stop blushing with each word you said. he never thought of you as the type to want to be choked and marked up, if he was honest. he wasn't scandalized per se, but the more you explained, the more he started feeling heat all over his body. he knew he was considerably taller than most and in the back of his head he knew people found that attractive, but knowing now how much you wanted him to do all those things to you and take full advantage of his strength made him lightheaded. he really appreciated how, although you couldn't seem to stop talking once you finally turned off the shyness switch, you still listened to everything he had to say to make sure he was also comfortable and just how far he was willing to go.

once the conversation died down you let the silence sink between you two, processing everything you talked about with your gaze lost in the distant glow of the long forgotten movie. after a while his voice and his hand on your thigh brought you back.

"you were scaring me back there, you know," yunho chuckled, soft eyes and a fond smirk drawn on his handsome face, "i thought you wanted to break up and turns out you just want me to rag doll you around"

the simplicity of his tone made you frown.

"well, now that you say it like that..."

he knew you were joking, and from one moment to the next you found yourself swiftly placed on his lap, curling his soft black hair around your fingers and kissing him, softly at first. his embrace around your hips was tender but firm and you trembled a bit, relief replacing the anxiety from before. seonghwa was right, after all, though you would never admit that to his face. you quickly forgot about your friend when you adjusted yourself on top of yunho and felt his hardness against your body. his eyes met yours and your breath hitched. how come the look in his eyes was so dark now?

"we can wait before trying changing things, you know," your soft whisper fell against his plumped lips, "think about it till you're comfortable"

yunho kissed you again, this time more fierce before tightening his grip on you and starting a trail of kisses down your cheek, jaw and neck.

"do you want to do it now, though?," shivers ran down your spine as his now slightly hoarse voice ringed in your ears, "because i do"

you nodded almost too desperately as those electric eyes of his bored into yours and that was all the confirmation you both needed. suddenly your back was against the couch and he held up a hand to caress your face, moving the scattered hair aside while he positioned himself on top of you. as a reflex your legs wrapped around his lean figure and soon enough you were nothing but a bunch of short breaths and flushed pink cheeks, his hands went up and down your sides and a gasp left your mouth when he gripped your thighs with his ringed fingers. amongst the passion there still existed some gentleness and you whimpered, pulling him against you with need. everything was suddenly too hot. his touch, his breath, his forehead against yours after a particularly long kiss.

yunho unfastened the buttons on your shirt and removed it as well as your shorts, leaving you almost completely exposed under his exploring hands. he glanced at you to check how you were doing and you so badly wanted to wipe off the smugness from the curve of his lips, but before you could say anything, two of his fingers pushed your underwear aside and made contact with your wetness. your head fell back with every movement of his, soon enough his lips were on your neck and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. nothing on your head but him, everything was filled with the feeling of the cold metal of his rings against your folds and the sharp occasional pain from his biting on your neck that made you sink your nails on his broad shoulders.

it was intoxicating having him like this, his instincts so good at that moment that he knew where to touch you so as to pull the sweetest sounds from your mouth. he just knew your body so well. you wanted to return the favor, make him feel as good as he was making you feel but as soon as you lingered around the button of his jeans he used his free hand to grab your wrist and hold it above your head. you whined and his response was a chuckle. it was more fun than he expected, and he was honestly enjoying himself, drinking in the expression on your pretty face and the cloudiness on your hazy eyes.

"no, doll. today you'll just take what i give you, yeah?"

he waited for confirmation and once he got it, he flipped you around, pressing his torso against your back and his clothed pelvis against yours. the roughness of his jeans against your bare thighs made you shiver, griping the couch tightly as he got a hold of your hips with his right hand to stop you from pushing back to feel him. his other hand was busy with his zipper and afterwards with prepping you. he slowly pushed two fingers inside of you and you gasped at suddenly feeling stuffed. yunho whispered reassuring words in your ear and after a while he took his fingers out, replacing them with his cock. inch by inch, you shut your eyes closed until he bottomed out and the air escaped his lips in a quick exhale.

you'd never tried it like this before and he could tell you were struggling a bit to take him, which was unusual. he attempted pulling out to let you adjust better but your muffled "no, don't" stopped him. he raised his already furrowed eyebrows, it was hard to concentrate with your warmth around but he paid attention to your breathing, waiting for it to be more steady before intertwining his fingers with yours from behind for support and pushing down with each thrust.

your moans became sharper and sharper and he almost couldn't resist the urge to go harder and faster, afraid he might hurt you. yunho loved the outline of your body and how you jolted every time he hit the right spot. he laid down on top of you, letting his weight fall almost entirely on you and enjoying the way your whimpering was almost involuntary at that point.

after a moment he grabbed a handful of hair to turn your head a bit, just enough for him to be able to kiss your temple. as if that wasn't enough, his other hand sneaked around your body to get a hold of your throat. he didn't put much pressure, but the feeling of his large hand restraining your air intake little by little and the feeling of his large body trapping yours had you shaking with a silent scream around his cock. as you rode your high, yunho slowed down the speed but not the force of his thrusts and so you were left there, overstimulated in the best way as he was chasing his own high. he was almost there, and the ringing in your ears could only be interrupted by the sound of his grunts and moans.

yunho pulled put and let go of your neck to finish himself off, looking at your exhausted figure and blissed out expression was enough to have him cum all over your back with a choked out groan. you smiled at him, taking in the image of him with his dark hair sticking slightly to his forehead. it shouldn't be as hot as it was, but seeing him practically fully dressed on top of your naked body made you feel fuzzy on the inside. your boyfriend smiled back at you and ran to the bathroom for something to clean you up. you would have to hop in the shower at some point for sure, but for now, after he finished wiping his cum off, the only thing you both wanted and had energy to do was to lay down.

he quickly slid one of his shirts on your body so you weren't cold and held you close, both still too agitated to give in to your heavy eyelids.

after a while of him caressing your back and you drawing shapes with your finger on his arm, you heard his voice again.

"you know, i think i liked that a lot," you nodded in agreement, both you and him knew that figuring out what each other liked the best was going to be a journey, but you were grateful for his willingness to try and he loved that you finally decided to confide in him, "what do you say?"

"depends," you joked with a sleepy voice and fluttering eyelashes, admittedly a bit flirty for his inquisitive gaze, "will you spank me next time?"

[onlyseokmins]

babymaker • c.s.c

Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint plus gross fluff Warnings: swearing, mentions of past rough/marathon sex, edging, overstimulation, fingering, mentions of oral sex (fem. receiving, male teasing), biting (bc i wrote this), scratching, marking, mentions of car/exhibitionism sex, objectification, degradation, slight choking, tiny obsession w/ cheol's ass + tatts, making out and tons of kithing uwu, reader's a brat and economic major, cheol's a wealthy arrogant bbygorl, creampies <3, breeding kink, light mentions of babytrapping (look at the title lmfao), lots of touching and groping and teasing, sappy stuff ew, messy sex, kinda bulge kink haha, paragraph/word heavy, throwing in some silliness as usual, & lmk if i missed smth WC: 7.9k A/N: i know it's like a month late but this was suppposed to be for cheol's birthday lmfao but it's also meant to be a sequel to Lusty Gallant although it can be read on it's own ig esp since the characters seem ooc </3 also thanks to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for giving me details on what cheol kithes taste like mwah

Seungcheol and you still live together. And yes, that means you're still committed to fucking on every surface possible in the very nice apartment space comfortable for two.

Roommates with benefits works out well for the both of you — seeming to lean mostly in your favor. 

University is a hop and a skip away, close enough for Seungcheol to swing by on his way home from the office with a minor detour. The attractive man's appearance always causes several students to squeal and twirl their hair when he parks next to the sidewalk in a sleek, expensive black and red car. Silver rings that probably cost as much as your tuition adorn long fingers as they tap, tap, tap against the leather steering wheel while he waits. 

Seungcheol looks for you over the rim of fake sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and tongue poking between brilliant white teeth revealed by a smug smirk. Your friends are not subtle — a few in-the-know of what kind of arrangement you have with him and the majority of others not — when they dig an elbow into your ribs or smack your arm in excitement. 

You loathe the gawking stares with the same amount of intensity as the tiny sparkle of delight that allows yourself to bask in Seungcheol's showy display of attention that's only partially for you. Aware of what he really loves is soaking up everyone focused on him, brushing back bangs with a pleased grin after checking himself out for the hundredth time in the rearview mirror. 

Still, the man is as punctual as clockwork despite a hectic schedule. Deluding yourself is fun whenever he rolls down the window and asks just loud enough for onlookers to hear and swoon over, "How was night class, sweet stuff? Did my luckiest charm learn anything new to advise me on the market's trends?" and receiving an eye roll in return.

"I keep saying you don't have to do this," you remind him every. single. time. because you're sincerely fine walking back the same route you take in the morning.

"Nonsense, it'd be a sin to let a pretty little thing like you walk the city streets in the dark all alone. 'sides it's on my way." 

"Of course, as long as it's convenient."

"Convenient?" he repeats with a cocked eyebrow and watches as you slide into the ridiculous car with a cute but sulky pout. An indication that something has ruffled your feathers, if even just a little.

You know not to slam the door too hard when closing it because the one time you did just to be a brat, your battered pussy paid the price. It was very sore for a good couple of days after being repeatedly edged for hours as punishment. First by his fingers during the drive home, next with his mouth on the hood of said car after he'd pulled into the garage, and then teasing touches along the several little pit stops on the way to the bedroom. 

All until you were pressed face-down into silky sheets, finally allowed to let go for the first time of the night with his thick girth easing its way inside of your aching cunt to the hushed words of, "Have to touch my baby gently, treat 'em with lotsa care. Always gotta play nice with the things I like, 'kay?"

Safe to say, you learned your lesson. Who wouldn't after being nearly bedridden and limping around for almost two days?

Seungcheol lets out the same kind of disappointed huff when you apologized to him for having to take care of you after that particularly harsh sex marathon — or any time, for that matter. "I've never thought of it as an inconvenience."  

"You're a busy man."

"Not so busy that I can't pick you up, 'specially given that we live together."

"Under various terms and conditions. One of them being that I put up with all your inconveniences, not vice versa."

"Then simply think of it as an additional nuisance of mine you have to deal with. You know I won't do anything you don't want, but at least let me have this so I know you're safe." Another harsh sigh leaves his mouth as he adds, "Even if the university was on the other side of town, I'd be there."

"Yeah, okay."

While there's a general love-hate relationship with your sassy behavior, it's in times like these where he extremely dislikes it since the timing is rather improper to fuck it out of you. Alas, he's left to fumble for an alternative that presents him as a man who possesses some semblance of decorum. 

"Can drive something else, find a car that doesn't draw so much attention."

"It's not the car," you snap back without thinking. Lips pressing together in a thin line when Seungcheol's fingers that wish they were on your thigh drum menacingly on the console as a substitute, rings flashing under the glow of the passing streetlights.

"Then what is it?" Your name falls from his lips in a soft, commanding kind of plea. 

Lucky for you, the short drive is almost over and you can avoid answering for the last couple of minutes. Pretending to mull it over as you focus on steadying the pounding thump of your heart and the erratic breath caught in your lungs.

"It's nothing," you lie fairly easily, already slinking out of the car the minute he brakes in the garage and ignoring the dark brown eyes trained on you because they will make you hesitate. You have to stay firm or end up caught in his trap. "Just tired, 's all. I'm gonna head to bed early, see you in the morning?"

And you don't wait for a response. Gently closing the car door and then sprinting as unsuspiciously as possible into your designated bedroom. Seungcheol won't follow or pry for now. He's always made a point to respect any boundaries you set and the promise to see him when you wake up will keep the man at bay for now. And you sure as hell were going to use all of that to your advantage, curling up under a blanket and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

This "roommates with a multitude of benefits" arrangement worked. Chugging along like a well-oiled mechanism. So why were you contemplating the risk of messing it up and throwing the machine off its steady track? For something so fleeting? So emotional? The one thing that always fucks up these kinds of relationships?

Sure, you were in love with the way Seungcheol carried himself. His swagger. His money. Confidence, charisma, oh… and his cock, too. Who wouldn't be? But now, oh no, now you were also in love with the man himself — stupid Choi Seungcheol!

It was a gradual build. Always there in the background. All it took was for you to acknowledge its existence. Perhaps it was meant to play out this way. But you were still going to hold him responsible as an equal in contributing to this mess just as much as you were for falling. Your fingers clutch at the blanket, the poor fleece serving as an unfortunate outlet for your frustration.

When did the crazy marathons dwindle out? By no means had the two of you stopped fucking — absolutely not. It just meant that, well, rather than Seungcheol just fucking you, he more or less made love to you.

You feel a shiver down your spine and scream into a pillow at the worms writhing in your brain.

The sex was still terrific. You habitually muffle your sounds as it is — not ones of pure frustration like tonight — but out of extreme pleasure. The filthy debauchery hadn't changed either. The two of you deeply reveled in your depraved dynamics and more insane acts, maybe even getting dirtier once this subtle shift happened. 

Safety. Security. Seungcheol.

Words you would've never thought to use in relation to him.

And then there was the aftercare. A strange new intimacy. He cuddled in bed after taking the effort to clean each other up for a good night's rest. Remaining there fast asleep and quietly snoring long after you untangle yourself from the comforting warmth of his arms to start the day. Mornings were no longer cold because he chose to stay.

Weekends were becoming your favorite too. When he waddles around shirtless, barely awake upon discovering you gone from his embrace. A back-hug immediately when finding you again. Soft gropes at your curves and low groans of contentment while pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent mixed with his while you prep breakfast. Turning you around for kisses and pursuing long, slow makeout sessions that were quickly becoming the norm. Only for you to accidentally bite down a little too hard on his bottom lip when you realize the toast is burning.

You miss the way his eyes shine with affection as they follow you panicking around the kitchen. When did this big apartment of his begin to feel so alive? Even previous roommates and their loud yammering hardly made him feel at home. Tonguing at the indentation marks of your teeth molded into his lip and the sting that keeps him rooted in the present moment, the man meets your flustered expression with a grand, playful smile. 

Ah, he thinks fondly, obviously.

Afternoons no longer consist of being stowed away in respective bedrooms or different rooms. Seungcheol sits at the kitchen table, furrowed eyebrows as he chips away at the excel sheet reflected in the glasses perched on his nose. You sit across from him, dutifully typing up assignments for Sunday night submittal. 

He'll ask occasional questions just to learn more about you, your classes, and your dreams. Or if you simply need any help. Meanwhile, you make sure you're both staying hydrated and taking necessary breaks to rest your eyes from the screens. Sometimes you'll even get to assist him by analyzing a report. The real-world example aids as a unique use case scenario to better understand the concepts outlined in your textbooks.

You really were Seungcheol's lucky charm. He often wonders if you'd like to apply to work at the company he's in. But he'd hate to pressure or patronize you. So ultimately all he can do is stare in awe and provide steady encouragement as you formulate calculations, clean up the data, and transform it all into a presentable display of information.

It's usually his turn to cook in the evenings. Constantly getting distracted by your presence that he insists needs to be around to taste-test the vegetables that keep overcooking when he gets too caught up in tasting you. Innocent smooches here and there amid shy giggling that seems far too intimate than if he lapped at something else like in the past when he eagerly devoured your cunt right there on the countertop. 

When dinner is served, you honestly never know or care how tasty it is or isn't because Seungcheol himself is the spice in your life. Your plain world now explodes in a bountiful amount of flavor thanks to him. Later, you tidy up the kitchen together — similar to how you move in tandem to freshen up in the bathroom after sex and much like a married couple would act.

And that's why your damn roommate leaves you wanting more. 

These nights he kisses you bathed in the moonlight, working up a blistering heat that doesn't just simmer in your lower abdomen but follows the journey of his dedicated mouth. Upwards the wildfire burns, swooping into your chest and underneath the skin of your cheeks until it tangles with the expert tongue poking in between your lips. Seungcheol charts familiar territory with dancing fingertips across your skin, re-committing it to memory while yours sear into his, scratching at the wide expanse of his back and burying themselves in the curls of his unruly hair. 

He takes you to bed — not always in a sexual manner — and it really doesn't even matter how you end up there because that is where you'll find yourself anyway. Falling asleep in his arms and waking up to repeat this strange and newly established cycle.

So the fact that you are sleeping alone speaks volumes. What is said, you're unsure but little do you know that Seungcheol continues to fear you might slip out of his hands. The attached-detached battle strategy always lurks around the corner and somehow, it's almost better when he treats you like some sort of fucktoy only. 

The gentle sparkle in his eye was shielded by the switch to a mean glint, eyeing you up like you're nothing better than a piece of meat. No longer acting as the sweet yet cocky, handsome roommate you've gotten to know and grown feelings for. But reminiscent of the aloof and arrogant — still deviously attractive — man who propositioned this whole situation a little over a year ago.

Like now, as you kneel on all fours naked. Save for the humble pair of underwear whose innocence has long been destroyed due to the stains of your arousal mixed with Seungcheol's cum. Ruining the fabric that nestles between your legs for the sake of modesty you've thrown away hours — no, months — ago.

The very man sits before you on the poor couch that's seen its fair share of sinful acts. He's reclining comfortably, black t-shirt stretching out across a firm chest and broad shoulders while infamous gray sweatpants strain against thick thigh muscles as he manspreads so casually with a large hand laid over his crotch. Teasingly hiding the thing you so desire and are begging for. 

But he wants you to work for it. Harder. A lot more than you already have. Put on a proper show of how much you deserve to have him. And want him.

"Come," he commands and pats his thigh like he's talking to some stray dog. When you go to sit back on your knees to stand, his eyes narrow as they darken. "Crawl."

What you don't know is Seungcheol would easily yield to and for you if you'd just let him. Be honest with him. Tell him your feelings. Unfortunately, it's in both of your natures to be hella stubborn. Too prideful to admit defeat and be completely vulnerable. You've come to an impasse.

But crawl to him physically you do, shamelessness long gone. Because what could be more shameful than how willing you are to be used by him and how wonderful it feels to be degraded?

Obviously admitting how much you like the damn man. 

Goosebumps thrillingly cover your skin at how the gaze trained on you never loses its intensity with you coming closer, following all the way until your head is between his spread legs. Because he knows at least this is the most definitive way he can hold onto you for now.

"Kiss me."

And you obey, puckering your lips and tenderly placing them against the growing bulge beneath the gray fleece. Looking up with lidded eyes, blinking slowly as you let out audible smooch noises along the hard length before mouthing at where the tip lies. Leaving an even damper spot than the salty excess seeping through the fabric, suckling around the area to replace it with the hot saliva dribbling from your tongue that laps enthusiastically at the taste.

"C'mon pet," Seungcheol's tone is mocking in its chastisement, but the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your warm cheek is gentle. "Gimme a real one."

"Yes sir," falls breathlessly out of your mouth at the assumed permission, hands quickly reaching for the waistband of his sweats only to retract just as fast upon the disapproving click of his tongue.

"Not like that, up."

Uncertain, you brace yourself with the support of his quads so you're kneeling. Leaning in and tentatively pressing a kiss to the spot where you know at least one vein starts from the bottom of his pelvis and leads up to his abdomen. Tongue poking out in an attempt to feel and trace it, also effectively wetting his shirt just for good measure.

This time, a wistful sigh escapes between the man's pouty lips despite the furrowing of eyebrows because you're still not quite getting the message. The hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, briefly running his thumb tantalizingly across the side of your throat, landing on your shoulder, and grasping at your arm. Tugging up until you follow along with the motion and a bit of a surprised squeak, ultimately landing right where he wants you — straddling his lap.

"Oh," you mutter in surprise, abruptly snapped out of the lust haze that had been clouding your mind. 

Center of gravity thrown off balance until your knees finally ground themselves on either side of his spread legs. Your hands hover awkwardly in the air, struggling to find something to hold onto before resolutely settling on the back of the couch. But not before Seungcheol's sturdy hands steady your hips, sporty reflexes acting faster than you can complete any of these actions.

"Oh, indeed. Already too fucked out to think?"

"No… s-sorry."

"You can make it up to me," he teases and you wait for the punchline, "with a proper kiss." It's both amazing and brow-raising when the Choi Seungcheol lets out the lowest of whines at the smallest sign of hesitation. "Don'tcha think it's the least I deserve today?"

Spoiled is what he is — but it is his birthday after all — so, of course, you're more than willing to indulge. Although the trepidation is real, manifesting in the tense stiffening of your body and the acceleration of your heart rate.

"Relax," he says gleefully — a little too gleeful. "I don't bite."

"Most times, not."

"If anyone's the biter between us, it's you so…"

The taunting murmur of, "Go ahead and bite baby," turns into a satisfied groan when you press your lips against his. Contrary to the jest and much to his delight, you're gentle. It's so adorable that he finds himself melting below you into a puddle of goo. Becoming absolute putty, lips readily parting so you can lick into his mouth.

He tastes like cherry chapstick and coffee, flavors so Choi Seungcheol that it hurts with how much they alone can possibly overwhelm you. Your nose scrunches, eyebrows following suit. Unaware of how he observes close-up through heavily lidded eyes because he wants more and more of what he can't get enough of. Afraid you might disappear. Even though you're right here — on his lap, kissing him sweetly. Yet you're still not all there.

So, he works on anchoring you to him — somehow, some way. One hand urges you to release your support on the couch, bringing your arm down to sneakily thread his fingers between yours. Naturally, the opposite one falls to eliminate the odd angle and rests on his shoulder. Seungcheol's other palm shifts to splay across your bare back and push you further into his chest, your sensitive nipples brushing against the cotton material of his shirt. 

When that burning hand also encourages your ass to sit on his thighs to nearly smother him into the couch cushion and your damp core effectively presses onto the heated length stirring inside his sweats — he finally gets what he's been waiting for. The wanton moan that bubbles out of your throat is quickly swallowed up by the man himself, who ceases the passive role in the makeout session and kisses you back with a fervor that quite literally steals your breath.

He waits for you to surrender.  

Not to be confused with submission. Seungcheol no longer cares about any fucked-up or sexual kind of power play nor does he want to win. He doesn't even want you to yield to or for him. Oh, he wishes you would of your own free will — but if you at least give in to the moment, to the feelings of now, and the warmth shared between you two — that's the most he can ask for and what he's grateful to accept for the time being.

Your fingers slip beneath the neckline of his shirt, inadvertently starting to trace along the same pattern as the ink that decorates his skin. The menace of a man smirks, pausing his assault on your lips to croon knowingly, "Wanna move this to your room?"

It's annoying how Seungcheol can read you even before your mind can think. And it's even more irritating at how your body reacts, thighs betraying you. Viscerally squeezing around his figure today, much like the memory of them wrapped above his waist the other day. Legs spread by him in between them as you clung to his body that had been railing into you like there's no tomorrow. Your gaze locked over his shoulder at the man's pride and joy — his nice ass — reflected in the mirror deliberately across from your bed along with the inked designs of things he held dearly marked across his back. Including the healing scratches from your nails.

"No," you grit out and break the kiss to shoot him a pointed glare, "just take off your stupid shirt."

"Thought you'd never ask."

No one should ever look that sexy taking off clothes, but of course, Seungcheol does. Any snark left in you immediately fizzles out at the teasing reveal and intentionally flexed expanse of his stomach as well as his bare chest. And yet something shifts in the air after he throws the shirt off to the side, covering his torso with his arms and giggling.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're gonna devour me whole, it's making me shy!"

It's not like you can stop yourself. Goddamnit, even that weird farmer's tan is drool-inducing. And the boyish smile he dons isn't helping either. You scoff to salvage a fraction of sanity, hands back on his bare shoulders and leaning in close enough for your noses to almost touch.

"Bullshit."

"Bet."

"You love it when people stare at you." 

There's a beat of silence. "But you look at me… differently."

"Hey — don't get weird on me, Seungcheol, or your dick's gonna deflate."

Normally he'd bite back at you. Stuff like: "My dick's just fine," or "Baby, it's so easy to get hard around you," and "You'd appreciate if my dick got smaller 'cause it wouldn't make you whine so much," but this time, he doesn't. He just stares at you. Thinking. Long enough for you to start getting antsy, unable to hold eye contact for any longer than two minutes, especially with him so close.

"What?" 

"You like me, don't you?"

It's the damn question he throws around all the time and your eyes roll up out of habit. "Yeah, I like you better without a deflated — "

"Forget about my cock for a bit." 

"Kind of hard to do," you fire back and try to grind down on the very inflated length twitching needily for the snug cunt it senses between the layers of clothes cruelly separating it from its warm home. 

Of course, Seungcheol is a little too familiar with your ploys and swats at your behind before squeezing your hips. "I know it is for a cock-hungry slut like you," he growls out in frustration before reverting back to his original soft tone, "but just humor me for a second."

"… Alright."

"You like me," he states and then repeats it in earnest when you sigh again, "you really like me. I would even be so confident enough to think you're… you're in love — "

"Well quit thinking," you interrupt with a snap, "I know your high and mighty arrogance causes you to believe everyone worships the ground you walk on but that doesn't mean a damn thing!"

Seungcheol's caramel eyes flash — with irritation or hurt, you can't quite place the swirl of emotions. "So that's all it is, huh? Just a figment of my imagination. A totally unfair projection of my thoughts and feelings onto you."

"If you wanted a session so badly on your birthday, then you should've scheduled with your therapist. And if you didn't want to continue fucking, then we could've stopped after the first round 'cause I was fine but you wanted more."

"You and I both know we're not just 'fucking'," he snarls, "and yeah, I do want more and that's why I need to know — with or without the sex, forgetting about the looks I know aren't just lust-filled because I see the ones you think I don't, I need to hear it out loud — do you like me?"

The plea of your name is the doomed cherry on top, heart thudding to the floor. It feels like the breath has been punched out of you. Though his skin is fiery warm beneath your palms it's not enough to thaw the way you've completely frozen over.

"Fine," you eventually wheeze out and Seungcheol relaxes — relieved — despite the crack in your voice, only to tense at your next words. "I'll move out tomorrow. Might take me a few days to get all my stuff gathered though."

"Wait… wait, wait… '' And this is the moment when the two of you find out that the black jujitsu belt he'd earned wasn't all for naught, effectively using a well-maneuvered technique that takes you off his lap and onto your back before you can escape from him again. "Please."

He begs, desperation evident in the way he clings to you and flops his forehead defeatedly onto your shoulder. As if he isn't the one who has you pinned to the couch cushions. He's never tried to hinder you before but honestly, he thinks he's hit the breaking point.

Don't you dare fucking leave me, is what is thought — but what comes out is a broken, "Why?"

"Because… because I… I breached the c-contract and made you uncomf — "

Seungcheol's head flies back up. "Then it should be me who moves out 'cause I'm pretty sure I violated the contract first."

"Wh-what?"

"Look at me," he commands and grips your chin so you can't turn away, "look at me, baby." And when your eyes squint open to stare into his, he fixes you with the most sincere expression you've ever seen. "I'm in love with you." 

Tears spring to your eyes at the wild admission. Neither of you are sure if your hearts are mending or splitting to fuse and complete the other's. What you do know is that Seungcheol melts into you with a kiss of elation and celebration, the big man further turning into an even bigger pile of mush when your hands cup both of his cheeks during it and a thumb rubs soothingly at his jaw. He smiles against your lips when you whisper back, "I love you too."

"Took you long enough." Your flustered protests are cut short when he sits up to lean against the opposite armrest, pulling you on top of him like your original positions. "Have a present for you."

"But you're the one who should be receiving gifts."

He shrugs. "I already have the prettiest one right here in my arms… even if I was almost left alone on my birthday."

"Sorry," you stroke his pouty lips, "to be fair, I was going to wait until tomorrow."

"While holed up all by yourself in your room in the meantime. Little shit, you know I wouldn't have let you go, right?" 

"Yeah… because you love me!"

There's an extra giddiness to your exclamation that's contagious enough to crack Seungcheol's chagrined expression with another grin.

"And you were gonna leave 'cause you loved me…" He lets out a huff. "Whatever, water under the bridge. Anyways, the gift. It's underneath the couch."

Curious, you lay flat and brush your hand beneath the furniture. Waving it around back and forth in the blind search, subsequently shifting all over Seungcheol's chest — bare skin gliding across bare skin. 

You snicker, feeling his cock stiffening once more with your movements. "Calm down, horndog."

"It's not my fault you're rubbing your very sexy body all over me!"

"… Why'd you even decide to put it here?"

"'Cause you never clean."

"Hey! Don't make me bite your dick off." It twitches beneath you. "Freak."

"We'll see who the real freak is when I go ahead and get it pierced with a barbell you'll like."

"Oh, fuck off!" comes your retort and he grumbles at the lighthearted jab while your hand finally bumps against a hard box that you grasp onto tightly. Pulling it out and frowning at the suspicious amount of dust covering it. "Gee, how long was this down here?"

"… Six months."

Your eyes bug out. "Six months?!"

"Told ya you didn't clean under there!"

"Oh yes, because that's the point here."

"It kind of is," Seungcheol teases despite the slightly wistful look in his eyes. "Knew you wouldn't find it there."

All you can do is shake your head, gingerly opening what you assume to be a jewelry box only to abruptly shut it out of pure shock. "What the fuck did I just see?!"

"Do… do you not like it?"

"That's so not the question that needs to be asked right now."

"It kind of does 'cause if you don't want it, I'll buy something else. "

"You've gotta be shittin' me." You fix him with a hard glare though he barely reacts to it. "How much of your bank account did you deplete for that?"

A satisfied, cocky smirk is all you get in return. "'Tis but a bucket of water taken out of the ocean, sweetheart. Trivial."

"Choi Seungcheol."

"C'mon," he takes the box from you with one large hand and pops it back open. You can actually feel the ache in your eyes set in at the sight of the dazzling jewels once again. "Thought it'd look gorgeous on you."

It's easy to visibly melt at his words because he's such a smooth talker along with the knowledge that he's kept this hidden for approximately half of a year. But that still doesn't distract you from the insane amount of delicate crystals forming a beautiful open heart shape linked to two short double-strands of diamond studs on either side that join together with a silver clasp. 

"It looks expensive," you correct, "how much was it?"

"Hmm, well it's seventeen carats so… a couple thousand, maybe?" 

Your jaw drops, eyes widening as one of Seungcheol's beefy fingers carelessly thumbs at the choker like the piece of jewelry couldn't pay off more than half of your student debt. You likely also get some type of look on your face because he clicks his tongue.

"Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I would happily spend ten times as much to get something that expresses just a fraction of what your worth is — in the world and… to me."

"You're so sappy, what the heck."

"Better not start something you can't handle, love." Seungcheol kindly warns, a little affronted when his puppy dog eyes and babygirl pout aren't as effective at distracting you as he'd like. Well, there are other ways. "You can't return it without testing it first."

"Testing?"

"Mhm, but why don't you give your sugar daddy a kiss of gratitude first?"

You scoff. "The only thing you share in common with a glucose guardian is being filthy rich."

"Not because I'm sweet like sugar?"

"Maybe just a little," you admit and lean in to give him an even sweeter kiss, much like earlier. And like before, the man turns into a puddle of syrupy goo at the featherlight touches of your lips on his.

But it's different at the same time. Kissing your roommate has always been with a bit of restraint. That all fades away as you melt into him — safety, security, Seungcheol, surrender — the both of you addicted to and lost in one another's taste while everything else falls away.

Until the little shit that he is distracts you enough for him to deftly extract the choker from its box and fasten it around your neck. You hiss at the shock of cold metal and gemstones as well as the physical and economically ethical weight around your neck, breaking the makeout session.

"See? Gorgeous, just like I thought. Not that you can look at it right now… maybe next time, we'll test it, heh, in your room."

"So that's what you meant by test…" 

The lightbulb finally goes off in your head but all you receive in response is a smug look. Unaware that the grand menace is pondering what position he'd like best to see the choker for the first time in action. Something inside him clicks after absentmindedly slipping a finger underneath one of the diamond chains and watching you attempt to swallow at the increase in pressure constricting your airflow.

It's all bright white teeth when he smiles and whispers, "On your back, baby."

And you shuffle backwards obediently, letting gravity take your body down in almost a mini trust fall, knowing there will be a soft landing and that Seungcheol would never let you fall — unless it's for him.

Indeed, he does fall with you. Bodies pressed close together before he starts a burning trail of kisses starting below where the jeweled collar lays sparkling prettily against your throat. Down between your breasts he goes, an appreciative squeeze to both with warm hands that follow along with his movement. 

Little nibbles to your skin and brushes to your sides that first have you squealing at the sharp nips and ticklish sensations. They're accompanied by the upward curl of his lips that only spreads wider when those airy giggles of yours transition to light moans the closer he stakes his claim to the more intimate parts of your body.

He lovingly suckles the skin of your tummy, leaving stinging signs of affection littered around your belly button and right above the band of your panties. There, Seungcheol pauses and lifts his head to look directly at you, not even trying to hide the fiery swirl of lust and adoration in his eyes and it makes you wonder how you've ever missed it before. 

But that's neither here nor there, every nerve in your system is lit up in a wave of heat that has your hips instinctively rising as if pleading with him. Enough that his brown irises can't help but flit down to observe with raised eyebrows only to meet your flustered expression again with a totally-full-of-himself stare.

"So sweet and needy," Seungcheol murmurs appreciatively and hooks both thumbs underneath the side wings of your underwear to tug them off. "So fuckin' messy too," he adds in a condescending tone as if someone between your legs isn't licking his lips like a man lost in the desert for days stumbling upon a hidden oasis.

The bold eye contact he gets a kick out of maintaining is broken just to watch how the fabric adheres to your center thanks to the mix of his cum from much earlier and the constant leak of arousal pooling from your heated core. He's slow in the process of removing the saturated clothing. Giddy anticipation building until it finally peels away with a suggestive squelch to reveal your creampied cunt.

A choked groan rumbles in his chest. You're caught in the struggle between snapping your legs together out of shyness or letting them fall open just as he likes, the fear of soiling the couch again no longer even a thought. But still in no rush, Seungcheol slips your panties down one leg and while they hang off the other, supports your heel in his palm to place butterfly kisses along your ankle.

You peek at him in between the fingers covering your eyes and heated cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Admiring you." Smooch. "Adoring you." Peck. "Marveling at how beautifully wet you get… this all for me, love?"

"Yeah, so… so you should take re-responsibility."

"Oh? And how so? What for?"

"Mmph!" You jolt at how fast he moves to fling your underwear over his shoulder and hover over top of you, whispering naughty words into your ear while roughened finger pads brush against slick folds.

"For knockin' you up? Not my fault this hungry pussy is never satisfied no matter how many times I stuff it. Greedy lil' thing."

"'m s-sorry… I — oh! Ohh…" 

"You don't sound sorry." 

Seungcheol mocks the shuddering moan that spills past your lips like he hadn't just shoved two chunky digits past those slippery folds and into the suffocating warmth beyond. His pointer finger bears its usual silver ring, the cold metal there and around your neck causing you to break out in a sweat at the chill engulfing your whole body. All from the heat swirling from the neck down, the torturous buildup between your legs, and meeting in a firestorm that explodes in your gut and makes your cunt tighten around his moving digits.

Your right arm snakes behind his nape and clings around it for dear life, nearly slamming the man's face into your tits — not that he's complaining — while the other sneaks between your bodies. Trailing down to where Seungcheol's fingers plunge inside of you, running yours across his exposed knuckles to dampen them with the filthy mix of arousal and cumstains he's playing in before tugging and teasing at your clit right above his vigorous actions. 

He clicks his tongue. "Now, what did I say about touching things that belong to me?"

"Don't touch without permission." A warning look that lacks any ferocity is shot your way but the corner of your lips quirks up, eyelashes fluttering, because he's really just full of shit. "And to handle… handle them with care, which 's all I'm doin'."

"Brat."

"You love me." 

"Damn right, I do. But if you're gonna use that against me like this maybe I have no choice but to discipline you."

You whimper when he withdraws his fingers, the loss and emptiness a punishment itself. "D-don't be mean."

"I'm never mean to you."

"You're not." You acquiesce with a cute little sniffle, interlocking your hands behind his neck to bring him down nose to nose. "'cept when I want your dick but s'kay, love you anyways."

"Using the L-word on me now, huh? Speaking of which, I never got you back for the little stunt you tried to pull earlier."

"Wha — ?"

The new position you had pulled him into grants Seungcheol the full teasing power he was honored to be blessed with. A dripping cock leaks precum between your bodies and smears your belly with the hot excess. Supported by a forearm beside your head, he languidly strokes his hard length and snickers. Barely wedging the mushroomed tip into your moist outer folds with a noisy squish and emitting a strangled groan from the back of the man's throat. Just enough so you can feel the faint tantalizing burn his girth promises in its efforts to stretch out your cunt, a buzz to the underside of your deliciously sore and engorged clit upon contact.

He's all toothy when you moan in response. Wiggling his hips lets him dip in a little further for the sole purpose of watching your eyes glaze over and threaten to roll to the back of your head. Lips parting wider in an adorable 'o' shape.

"Thought you could just leave like it's nothing. As if I don't fuck you full of enough cum to babytrap you here with me… Oh? You'd like that wouldn't you, pussy tryna gobble me up like the slutty whore that you are."

"Mmph, ah… only yours!"

No one has to be your special someone to read your body so easily but it's the fact that he is the one who's able to make your cunt react and squeeze around him just like so that fuels his ego. A mean sneer chisels his softer face features — less of a reaction towards you and more of him struggling not to plunge his pelvis forward and rearrange your guts. Or even worse (better), to bust a nut inside, painting your velvet walls with a creamy white. 

It would be so easy to slide in a little further… you're begging him with slurred words and a steady pulsating grip around his dick — just daring him to ease the rest of it inside.

But then you would never learn your lesson. And if there's one thing Seungcheol loves more than being wrapped up in the tight clench of your cunt, it's making you work for it. Show off how desperate and cock-drunk you are. 

"Y'know, all you had to do was tell me. Would've fucked you on every surface of this house, make sure there wasn't a moment that passed where you didn't have my cum dripping down your legs." He relents with the most meager of thrusts forward, widening the spread of your pretty folds suckling around him. "Anything to keep my darling 'lil babymaker satisfied, pump you full every minute of the day and make sure it takes."

"Ch-Cheol… please! Wan' you so bad."

"You'd like that, right? Givin' you a baby so you stay here forever. We'll make as many as you want, I'll even take time off to help." The sudden rush of paternal instincts makes the man pause, chuckling and muttering more to himself, if anything, "maybe you've been tryna babytrap me all along."

"Jus' want, just want your dick."

"I know, baby."

Seungcheol simpers at your pitiful plea but the menace in him victoriously pulls out and away, the departing wet 'pop' as loud as the slight fracture in his heart at doing so.

"No!"

In visible grief, your seizing legs clamp at his side with your heels digging into the dip right before the curve of his ass, clawing at his shoulder blades like a cat. That does nothing though except squish his length against your needy cunt, gliding pathetically against it but not once inside. 

He smirks and whispers hoarsely, "If you want it so bad, put it in yourself."

A shaky hand reaches down to grasp and stroke at his dick, inadvertently brushing against your swollen clit that has your hips jumping. You bite down on your lower lip in an attempt to concentrate, blindly guiding his slippery cockhead to where it rightfully belongs. All while Seungcheol watches with amusement and a pained expression of how heavenly your hand feels on him — and even more when you succeed and bully him inch by inch inside of your gummy walls that suction and ripple greedily.

"There we go, yeah fuck… just like that."

Further and further, squelch by squelch until your pussy stretches to swallow and take him all. Only a finger's width between your pelvises kissing one another, knuckles snug against his heavy scrotum. You release him with triumph, clinging again to his neck. Seungcheol takes the final push and you let out simultaneous moans when his balls settle warmly against your ass and the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his shaft are flush with your pubic bone. The tiny rough strands becoming even more soft and soaked by all of the arousal leaking out of your hole and his slit.

"Mine," he affirms and sticks his pinky through the open diamond heart pendant, nail lightly scratching the front of your throat. 

"Yours." You hold onto his wrist, finally feeling so deliriously full and giggling a bit because you're somewhat light-headed. "You're mine too."

"Yeah, all yours, baby."

Seungcheol's beginning thrusts are slow, deep, and concentrated. He barely leaves your warmth, only sliding a little bit back before a harsh thrust forward to nudge his tip against the rougher spot that has some drool dribbling at the corner of your mouth out of sheer pleasure. 

That doesn't last long though, the both of you are extremely worked up and super sensitive. It only takes a few minutes before he's setting an erratic pace. Strong forearms cage your head to protect it and keep you somewhat stationary while giving him enough strength to absolutely plow into you without forgiveness. 

The couple thousand dollar choker starts to shift against your skin, bouncing ever so slightly in time with each repetition of relentless slams into your pussy. Such a sight delights Seungcheol so much, eyes focused on the glittery accessory and listening for its rhythmic jingle — bruising your tender flesh in ways that his lips don't — that ends up drowned out by the continual slap of the hard fucking he delivers.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Let me fill ya up?"

"S-soon! 'm gonna cum… so soon!"

"I… know. Oh fuck, I know baby. Let go for me, please. Surrender… ngh 'n give it all to me."

A powerful climax washes over you like a surprise, the setoff finalized by the large hand placed on your tummy. Applying just enough pressure to feel every vein and ridge of the cock against your inner walls while on the outside, Seungcheol lets out a guttural and feral groan at the upward bulge beneath his fingertips. 

You let go with a wail that's swallowed by his lips capturing yours. Your nails dig into whatever you're grasping onto, teeth unconsciously biting down on his tongue you meant to simply caress with your own. 

He lets out a strangled "oomph!" but the pain is easily sedated by the seductive way you contract and massage his dick in your unraveling — and then unprompted, he's spilling over the edge too. Coating your walls in thick ropes of white that sear your insides, gobbling up the release with repeated clenches as you both pant and wait for the orgasmic bliss to fade out.

"I think you're so sexy." Seungcheol mumbles the words tiredly into your shoulder and the laugh you let out sounds more like a winded wheeze.

"How lucky I am that you think that, has the post-nut clarity hit yet or… ?"

"I'm serious. I love you."

"I love you too. Happy birthday to my perfect sugar boyfriend or whatever."

He snorts, lifting his head to send you a lazy grin. "Yeah, happy birthday to me — the luckiest bitch on the planet to be loved by you."

"Spoiled is more like it but yeah. I'd say I'm pretty lucky too."

Adoration shines in both of your weary eyes, though Seungcheol has the audacity to lick his now very dry and cracked lips. "Say, was I right in picking out your gift or do you need more test runs?"

"What I need is a hot bath — no funky business — and at least twenty-four hours of sleep."

"That sounds good too. Y'know… if we sleep for a whole other day and confirm our relationship then, we can fuck for two days straight every year as an anniversary celebration!" His voice lowers, already acting naughty and unintentionally work himself up. "And then I'm positive you'll be bred properly."

You slap his shoulder. Hard. "Choi Seungcheol!"

"'m just kiddin'," he blatantly lies and gently pulls out of your sloppy pussy. Grunting at the goop and messy wetness that got everywhere. "Think we'll need to get a new couch."

"Great idea! Now, you can spend your money on something practical."

"Love you too." 

"God, what did I get myself into." When you roll your eyes, a toothy grin is what you receive in return. 

"I dunno, love, but I think this roommates to fuck buddies to lovers arrangement will work out beautifully, don't you?"

You give him another kiss just to shut him up. If you ever admit he's right, well, that would be with a mouthful of cock and a story saved for another time.

onlyseokmins: September 2023 ©

[vixstarria]

"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"

This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.  

There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!) 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

~~~~~

“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.” 

“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?” 

You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.  

“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.” 

“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material” 

“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.  

This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening... 

You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.  

You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed! 

By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics. 

With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.  

You would shout corny names at each other across camp: 

“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??” 

“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll. 

Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:  

“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier. 

Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.  

One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.  

“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.  

(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.) 

Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?” 

Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes: 

“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!” 

A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.  

All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.  

Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.  

What was it like with him? 

Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself. 

You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.  

You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.  

In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.  

“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.   

As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body. 

The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.  

There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms. 

This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed. 

Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...  

“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.  

“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder. 

“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent. 

Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.  

“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.  

Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.  

You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed. 

That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.  

Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter. 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3