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eddiesghxst · 11 months ago

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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seelestia · 8 months ago

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✦ how can you tell? (of how easily i fall at your feet.)

⎯ oh, how love bleeds from just one gesture. ( some telltale signs that they might've fallen for you. )

#STARRING. neuvillette, wriothesley & lyney ft. gn!reader. { 2.4k words }

#TAGS. sfw, fluff & crack, major pining (!!!). more: neuvi has 1 extra part bcs i realized too late, wrio is a rascal /aff, lynette is a professional wingwoman here (everyone, applaud!!), mentions of various fontaine npc's.

#P/S. pardon my rusty writing and ideas but alas, may i entice you with some fontaine gentlemen on this fine day?? (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

★ 〜 masterlist.

⎯ neuvillette's love is subtle, hidden behind a veil of formal courtesy. the iudex is the nation's symbol of impartiality; personal relationships, a common factor of inciting bias in one's judgement, are to be sifted through wisely. he can choose which he ends up keeping, yet he cannot choose which he ends up wanting. what of a relationship he desires but cannot keep? a conundrum but still, his affections for you seep through the crevices.

it's in the way. . . your name becomes a beloved among the melusines, you wonder why?

it goes without saying that every citizen of fontaine acknowledges melusines to be friendly creatures. all of them are sweethearts! ...but is it you or is there some form of hidden favoritism here?

for some reason, they always seem to go out of their ways to greet you on the streets. a “hello, mx. [name]!” from the right then a “good day, mx. [name]!” from the left. maybe a “stay safe, mx. [name]!” on days when it's crowded too... you're starting to think the quota of greetings you receive is much bigger than everyone else.

before long, even your arms are getting piled up with favors. one ticket for a seat in the opera epiclese from aeife, a slice of cake from sedene, some high-quality butter from muirne, a free beverage from menthe — you lost count of the freebies you've received already.

what's going on? it is as if there's a badge of approval from someone just hanging over your head. visible to a melusine's eyes, but not to yours. (you've heard that melusines perceive things differently than humans, though.)

but who are you to complain? you're not immune to their contagious smiles each time you pass by. on some days, you even entertain the thought that they are more familiar with you than you are with them. all in a humorous sense, of course.

ironically enough, this theory wouldn't take long to ring true: having received a bouquet of your favorite dessert from café lutece on your birthday from kiara, this coincidence only feeds into your suspicion even more.

a considerate gesture but surely, they don't do this for everyone? you don't recall ever telling your usual order and birthdate to a melusine before. your mind scrambles around for a memory you might've missed. who could've—

“oh, yes... i almost forgot,” kiara holds her chin in thought. “monsieur neuvillette says to send you his regards,” she nods, relieved that the message did not make its narrow escape from her mind. but blissfully unaware of the impact her words have left on you.

“goodbye, mx. [name]!” the melusine bids you farewell with a cheery wave. you murmur back a response but it comes out incoherent at best — you are simply too dumbfounded by the realization.

...so, that's who.

(wait a second, is arouet in on this too?!)

it's in the way. . . he begins to take longer breaks, hoping to run into you in front of the palais.

taking quiet strolls just outside the palais is, more often than not, neuvillette's idea of rest from work. although some might expect the iudex to have chosen a more 'creative' or luxurious location, but he digresses.

this place is near his office so less time is wasted on the journey back, liath also patrols here so he has the opportunity to inquire about her well-being — and occasionally, he stumbles upon you as well.

'occasionally' is the keyword: neuvillette has always preferred order and routine above chances and coincidences. but something about this idiosyncrasy — the tendency to linger beyond his usual duration, the act of stalling to hold onto hope that you might pass by today — is a indication of hypocrisy he wishes not to comment on.

sometimes, he closes his eyes so that his ears may be more attuned to the sound of your voice. sometimes, he opens his eyes so that they may look around for a glimpse of your face. who's to say if he'll ever be graced by your presence? it is all in fate's hands.

call it an odd method of manifestation, a childish one that even neuvillette scoffs at himself for. sometimes, it doesn't work, of course. not that he ever expects it to — but oh, when it does.

“...monsieur?” your voice cuts through the silence in his mind. he takes the sight of you in; a polite greeting on your tongue, several grocery bags in your arms and that beam on your face as you say, “what a coincidence to see you here.”

the iudex finds that he doesn't mind having his privacy briefly interrupted. not at all. not when it's like this, not when it's by you. alas, it seems that fate has smiled down on him today.

“yes, hello. what a serendipitous coincidence indeed.”

neuvillette smiles, he can't help it. perhaps, he might grow a soft spot for coincidences, after all.

(you sneak a brief glance at the sky with a squint. ...is it just you or are the clouds clearing up a little?)

⎯ wriothesley's love is beguiling, the kind of adventure that keeps you on your toes. a forthright gentleman; he is the type to know what he wants and he wants you. with him, you'll taste whiplash like never before. butterflies in your stomach, the urge to throw a shoe at him, you'll get it all. but an adventure isn't an adventure without breaks in between and it's at that very moment where you'll find you adore him the most... when he rests his head on your lap, momentarily free from worldly titles, breathing like the man who longs for warmth that he has always been.

it's in the way. . . he always offers you tea when really, he just wants you to stay.

everyone knows that wriothesley enjoys his tea — but that's only because he sees no need to hide his preferences; not his craving for a cup of tea when afternoon arrives nor his fondness for you either.

he doesn't conceal it, but doesn't bring attention to it either. wriothesley likes to think that only those with discerning eyes can pick up on the miniscule (???) hints he drops. that is, if saying “why not stay for some tea?” is even considered a subtle clue at all... maybe, he's mixing up polite courtesy with flirting a bit too much.

but who cares? in the grand scheme of things, the fun is seeing whether you'll figure it out or not. and let's be frank here; wriothesley is a patient man in all aspects, able to play the long game like no other.

don't worry, you may take as long as you want to — ironic since you're technically the only player in this 'game' — but hey, he has faith in your abilities! besides, you get to enjoy a cup of free tea (and with his company, preferably). surely, you can't complain about that? ...hah, he's just teasing you.

tick-tock! tick-tock!

the clock strikes twelve in the afternoon.

“ah, finally a well-deserved break.” the tone in which wriothesley pairs with that grin on his face is nothing less than devious. the glance he throws your way as he set aside the documents on his desk is something. or rather, it's suggesting something.

and frankly, you've experienced this many times enough to know what the underlying meaning is. “let me guess...” you let out a sigh, “you're asking me to have tea with you again?”

the emphasis on the last word is definitely, wholly intentional. you're sure wriothesley knows that too — “bingo,” he hums at you, sounds almost like a whistle. “you're getting more and more clever. must be all the tea i made you.”

“don't flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes at his attempted jest but you take a seat on his office couch, anyway. your own unique and adorable way of saying yes, he learned. still, wriothesley thinks that exasperated look on your face is an absolute marvel... and maybe, that little smile tugging on your lips you're trying to fight, too.

“same as usual?” he asks, pushing back his chair with a proud grin still plastered on his face that you wish you can wipe off.

but instead, you shake your head fondly at his antics. “mhm,” and rest a cheek on your fist. watching him tiredly, you realize you could get used to this. maybe.

wriothesley smiles to himself. looks like you figured out the tea has always been an excuse, after all.

(you've won the game, congrats! a subsidiary reward is a comment from sigewinne about how this tea routine between the two of you bears a resemblance to an elderly human couple's. she means it, innocently sincere.)

⎯ lyney's love can be faceted at first, one with such a smooth surface that you never imagined there would be so many layers underneath. joy and bliss, sorrow and burdens; all cramped and stuffed together behind his mask of perfection on the stage, a mask akin to a child's treasure chest almost bursting at the seams. you can unravel him if you tried, you can take off that mask if you reached out. and when you do, you'll find beautiful violet eyes staring right back at you, thankful, imploring you to go further.

it's in the way. . . his bravado dissipates around you, nerves scattering like confetti that bursts from his hat on stage.

they say that the first impression is the best impression — or at least, lyney hopes that's the case with all of the interesting impressions he has left on you so far. his instinct by nature is to impress, to bedazzle and that hasn't stopped since meeting you for the first time.

trying doesn't always lead to success, however. you stuttered in front of them twice, lynette pointed out after the first time he spoke to you. that fact spooked the poor magician so much he stayed up rethinking the conversation under the cover of his blanket. lynette isn't wrong per se, but lyney firmly believes that he will leave a better impression... one day, somehow, no matter how many times it takes!

he is a magician; charisma and charms should have or rather, already have come easily to him. his persona on the stage is no lie — just a tiny concerted exaggeration, maybe — but you've been among his audience before. you've seen what he is capable of. so surely, you'd know that lyney isn't really as demure and easily flustered as you might think he is... because no punches held back, he acts like that every time you talk to him.

he can't help it and that, exactly, is what makes it worse.

how many times have he cupped his face and mumbled nonsense into his hands for failing to impress you yet again? you're so wonderful and he's just so... miserable. this is unlike him. he has to wonder why you still look for him after each performance when you know you'll be greeted by his being a wreck.

maybe they like you that way, freminet tried to help. or maybe they like you no matter what, lynette chipped in. that had lyney pondering for a long, long, long time which translates into weeks.

will the day come where he presents you with a rainbow rose and professes his feelings for you without losing his nerves? he can only hope (and try, one day).

it never gets old.

when his feet step off the stage and the curtains have fallen, the satisfaction that spreads all the way to his fingertips never fails to disappoint. but with that, also comes the imminent feeling of anticipation.

for each performance he delivers, a visitor is bound to linger. when all members in the audience would head to the entrance of the opera epiclese to leave, one of them would stay. waiting patiently to be beckoned to the backstage. it's been a routine for so long, after all.

“lyney?”

right on cue.

your voice greets his ears, a sound that he can admit he misses only to himself. he exhales, a placating act to shush his beating heart from growing any louder.

“ah, [name]!” the magician enunciates your name with a certain type of fanfare. “here to lend a hand again, i assume?” he tries to shoot you a confident grin, but you aren't gullible enough to not see the tint of red blooming on his cheeks.

you stifle a chuckle at his (attempt at a) bold opening. “of course,“ said with a nod and a silly thought along the lines of: he's cute.

your honest and calm response takes him by surprise. he blinks a tad. oh, it seems the thrill from the show a few minutes prior still hasn't worn off. perhaps, he's still all too used to the crowd's shouts and cheers... not that he expects you to start yelling, of course!

“i see,” lyney feigns a cough to recollect his composure. now that he is cognizant of the fact it's just the two of you, he shrinks down into a more casual version of himself with a nervous chuckle.

“will you... be staying for long?” he asks, bashful. the question sounds more genuine than just a mere pleasantry. his eyes look hopeful, twinkling at the thought of having your presence around. his fingers have even come up to scratch at the side of his neck, you don't think lyney even realizes he is doing that.

who are you to say no? you smile. “well, my schedule's pretty empty today.”

his lips instantly break into a grin, brighter than one he usually has onstage. “that's actually marv—” he starts.

“that's great,” a familiar monotonous voice cuts in. lynette peers from behind you with a hum, “we could use more hands to pack up the new props.” oh, and that brief glint of mischief in her feline eyes as she watches how lyney gapes at her sudden intrusion.

“sure!” you glance back at her, oblivious to it all. “thanks for letting me in, lynette. i'll try my best to help.” even if you admit that one of the reasons you're here is for lyney, but you can't discredit his twin sister for allowing you to enter here in the first place. a free backstage pass in exchange for free labor, quite a fair deal.

with your back turned to him, lyney takes the chance to mouth his own words of disbelief to lynette. incomprehensible except for that one i can't believe you're doing this! that she manages to catch.

“no problem,” she observes her brother over your shoulder with keen interest, “everyone knows how fond lyney is of you.”

there is a series of spluttering noises behind you. a certain magician finds himself at the verge of choking on mere oxygen.

“lynette!”

but really, she has no doubt that lyney has fallen head over heels for you. hook, line and sinker.

— thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are most appreciated. ♡

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x you #wriothesley x you #lyney x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #seelestial.inks

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theonottsbxtch · 7 days ago

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99 PROBLEMS | MV1

an: this is literally a crack fic, i had the idea when i was listening to 99 problems by jay-z and i was talking to @iamred-iamyellow please enjoy

summary: max never expected to one day have a 17 year old son. he didn't know he was a father. but now he's got to try and figure out how this nerd is his son. and also teach him how to live a little.

wc: 3.3k

Max never thought he’d be a single dad to a teenage boy, but shit happens.

One minute, he was in Monaco celebrating another podium win, champagne-soaked and grinning for the cameras. The next, there was a seventeen-year-old with his eyes and an attitude to match standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag. His name was Noah—“not ‘Dad,’ just Max”—and he wasn’t here to bond. No, Noah was here because apparently the universe thought karma would be funnier this way.

Max was on the balcony of his Monaco apartment replying to a few emails, the city’s lights flickering like a postcard behind him. He could hear Noah inside, rifling through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of “real food.”

“Hey, don’t knock the caviar!” Max called over his shoulder. “It’s got protein!”

“Caviar’s not dinner!” Noah fired back, slamming the fridge door.

Max smirked, chuckling a bit. The kid had a point. The life of a Formula One champion didn’t exactly prepare him for raising a teenager. Most days, it was all jet-setting, high-end sponsorships, and a new girl on his arm by sundown. It was messy, but it was his kind of messy. Now? Now, he had to figure out how to squeeze fatherhood in between the chaos.

“You seriously live like this?” Noah asked, stepping onto the balcony, holding up one of Max’s custom helmets. His tone wasn’t admiration—it was judgement.

“Like what?” Max said, not looking up from his phone.

“You know, like...this. Cars, women, parties. I mean, isn’t it exhausting?”

Max chuckled low, pocketing his phone. “Don’t have time to be tired.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, uh...where do I fit in this circus?”

Max turned, his smirk fading just enough to let a flicker of honesty show. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Max glanced back at the city below. “Now, go grab a drink or something. Just...not the champagne.”

And that’s how it started: the driver, his kid, and a life moving faster than either of them could control.

Max hadn’t had a conventional childhood and he could tell this kid did, well as conventional as it was to be dropped off at your dad who you’ve never met’s house a few weeks before your 18th birthday.

He thought that maybe while he was here he could teach him a few things, take him to a few races or something.

Max didn’t really know what to do.

The private gym was tucked into the corner of Max’s penthouse, all sleek machines and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was rarely used. Most of Max’s training happened at the Headquarters. or with his team, but Noah had been dragging his feet around the apartment all week, so Max figured a little sweat might do them both some good.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, tossing a pair of dumbbells onto the mat. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank. Ever lifted before?”

“Sure,” Noah replied, unimpressed. He sat down on the bench press, giving the machine a once-over like he was deciding whether or not to trust it.

Max crossed his arms, watching as Noah pushed through a few hesitant reps. “Not bad. But if that’s your warm-up, we’re in trouble.”

Noah glared, setting the weights down with a clink. “Not all of us need muscles for a living.”

Max laughed. “Touché. So, what do you do for fun then?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, like hobbies, friends, maybe a girlfriend?”

Noah shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. “Not much. I play some video games, read, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

“Read?” Max frowned. “What, no parties? No sneaking out? You don’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Noah’s voice had that dry teenage edge to it. “I’m seventeen. I lived in America my whole life. You can’t even get into a bar without a fake ID there.”

Max froze mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink?”

Noah gave him a look like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “No?”

Max stared at him, dumbfounded. “God. If only you knew what I was doing at your age when my dad had his back turned.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Clubbing in Paris. Drinking champagne with supermodels. Living the dream?”

“Belgium, but close,” Max said, leaning against the bench press. “Keg parties in the back of some guy’s trailer in Hasselt. Terrible beer, worse decisions, and my trainer yelling at me the next morning. Still, though. I can’t believe you’re seventeen and haven’t even had a sip.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Noah muttered.

“Not a big deal?” Max barked out a laugh. “Mate, by seventeen, I’d already figured out my go-to drink order. Vodka tonic. Not classy, but it got the job done.” He leaned in, his grin borderline mischievous. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Noah held up his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no. You’re not turning this into some wild ‘how to live’ project.”

Max raised his eyebrows, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying. Gotta live a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to end up like you,” Noah shot back.

Max laughed again, but this time it came quieter, almost thoughtful. “Trust me, buddy. Nobody ends up like me. Now, come on. Two more sets, and then I’ll show you how to make a proper protein shake. Don’t worry—I won’t spike it.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head as he got back to work. It was just another morning, another disagreement, but Max couldn’t help feeling like they were inching closer to something real. Something like family.

By the end of the week, Noah was starting to think his dad was running some kind of unofficial competition.

On Monday, it was Marie. She was Monegasque, blonde, and talked like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. “Bonjour, mon cher,” she’d purred at Noah, ruffling his hair like he was ten. Max had barely noticed her leave, too busy scrolling his phone for his next big sponsorship deal.

Tuesday brought Yasmin, a Brazilian model who walked around the apartment in Max’s oversized shirt, pretending not to notice Noah glaring at her from the couch. She’d tried to make conversation, something about school and books, but Noah had just shrugged until she gave up.

By Wednesday, it was Clara, who had an annoying laugh and kept calling Max “babe” like they’d been married for years.

Thursday was a whirlwind—two girls, both of whom Max forgot to introduce. One of them waved awkwardly at Noah as they left, heels clicking on the tile floor.

By Friday, Noah wasn’t even fazed. He sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal while Max brewed coffee, shirtless and looking entirely too smug for a guy running on five hours of sleep.

“How?” Noah finally said, his spoon clinking against the bowl.

Max glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “How what?”

“You know.” Noah waved vaguely toward the hallway where yet another pair of heels had disappeared moments ago. “Them. How do you...?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he poured his coffee. “Not that complicated.” He took a sip, leaning against the counter like he was about to deliver some ancient wisdom. “They like fast cars and big dreams. I’ve got both.”

Noah squinted at him. “Yeah, but don’t they know what they’re getting into? Like...you’re not exactly giving ‘dad of the year’ vibes.”

Max laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Oh, they know. Trust me, they all think they’re the one who’s gonna ‘change me.’” He set his mug down, smirking. “Spoiler alert: they’re not.”

Noah frowned, stirring his cereal. “Doesn’t it get old?”

“What?”

“The whole thing. Girls coming and going. Don’t you ever want...I don’t know, something normal?”

Max tilted his head, studying him for a second. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, why are you so interested? You got someone back in the States?”

Noah snorted. “No. Not unless you count my English teacher who used to give me extra credit just to stop talking in class.”

Max grinned, pushing off the counter. “Smart kid. Learn from me, though—don’t waste your charm on teachers. Save it for someone who can actually keep up.”

Noah rolled his eyes, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” Max said, raising his coffee in a mock toast, “I’m still your dad. Crazy how that works.”

Noah shook his head, walking out of the kitchen. But as he headed toward his room, he caught himself smirking. Max was a mess—there was no denying that. But, annoyingly, there was something kind of fascinating about watching him pull it off.

He had to give him some respect. Three time world champion but he lived his life like an unbothered bachelor that didn’t have a multi-million contract under his belt.

Two days later, Max was standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to decide between a black shirt and a white graphic tee. He ended up tossing the black top onto the bed, shrugging into the white tee. His phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from the group chat reminding him that their table was already reserved at Jimmy’s.

Max grabbed his watch and headed toward the living room, adjusting it as he walked. Noah was sprawled on the couch, scrolling his phone with the kind of disinterested focus only teenagers could pull off.

“You wanna come?” Max asked casually, pulling his car keys from the counter.

Noah didn’t even look up. “I’m seventeen.”

Max leaned against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m Max Verstappen.”

Noah gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, that’s not how laws work.”

Max stepped into the room, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with one hand. “Relax, kid. You’re with me. No one’s checking your ID.” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Unless you want to stay here and eat more cereal while I’m out having the time of my life.”

Noah hesitated, sitting up slightly. “What, and hang out with you and your harem of club girls? Hard pass.”

Max grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s not just girls. My friends will be there. Good music, good drinks, a little chaos. You could use some chaos.”

Noah snorted. “I don’t think I fit your ‘chaos’ aesthetic.”

Max walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to fit. You just show up, keep your head up, and let the good times come to you. Trust me, kid—it’s not rocket science.”

Noah looked at him, torn between scepticism and curiosity. “And if I hate it?”

“Then you call it a night, and we’ll come back. No harm, no foul.” Max shrugged. “But at least you’ll know what you’re missing.”

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anyone tries to buy me a drink, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Max grinned, slapping him on the back. “Now, go change. You’re not wearing that.” He gestured vaguely at Noah’s hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s not wrong; it’s tragic. Go put on something that says, ‘I’m seventeen, but I could still be cooler than you.’”

Noah rolled his eyes but got up and headed toward his room. Max leaned back against the couch, chuckling to himself. This was either going to be a disaster or the most fun he’d had in weeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah emerged in dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked.

Max whistled. “There you go. Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t push it,” Noah muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the elevator. “Welcome to the good life. Try to keep up.”

Jimmy’z was everything Noah expected and nothing he was prepared for. The place was loud, packed, and drenched in neon lights that pulsed to the bass of some remix he didn’t recognise. Max walked in like he owned it, breezing past the bouncers and slapping hands with a few familiar faces on his way to their table.

The VIP section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A couple of Max’s friends were already there, leaning back with drinks in hand, laughing at some story one of them was telling.

Max clapped a hand on Lando's shoulder, said something about ordering another round, and then turned to Noah with a grin. “Alright, kid. First drink’s on me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to drink?” Noah muttered, looking around nervously.

“You’re not supposed to get caught drinking,” Max corrected, flagging down a waitress. “Two rum and cokes. Easy on the rum for him,” he added with a wink.

Noah sat awkwardly, trying to ignore the curious glances from Max’s friends. When the drinks came, Max slid one across the table. “Here. Cheers.”

Noah picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, immediately grimacing. “This tastes like gasoline.”

Max burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own drink. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a milkshake, but you’ll get used to it.”

Noah frowned but kept sipping, each drink slightly less terrible than the last. By the time the glass was empty, he didn’t hate it—but he definitely wasn’t in a hurry for another.

“Alright,” Max said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Time for your next lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“Yeah.” Max grinned, nodding toward the dance floor where a group of girls was laughing and swaying to the music. “How to get a girl.”

Noah blinked at him. “I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re eighteen in three weeks,” Max shot back, smirking.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know that?”

Max sipped his drink, looking almost offended. “I pay attention. I’m not that bad of a father, you know.”

Noah snorted. “Debatable.”

“Hey, come on,” Max said, leaning forward and pointing at him with his glass. “I’ve got three weeks to turn you into someone who doesn’t spend prom night sitting in the corner playing Angry Birds. Let me work my magic.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Noah mumbled.

“Exactly my point.” Max gestured to the dance floor. “Now, watch and learn.”

Noah shook his head, but he couldn’t help smirking. Watching Max in his element was like watching a lion stalk the savanna. Ridiculous, over-the-top, and somehow annoyingly effective.

Noah leaned back in the plush booth, his gaze flicking nervously between the drink in his hand and the dance floor. “This feels illegal,” he muttered under his breath.

Max, already halfway through his second rum and coke, let out a loud laugh that turned a few heads. “Illegal? We’re in Monaco.” He gestured broadly at the glittering club around them, as if the name alone erased all laws. “The girls here don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re pretty enough.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’m not?”

Max leaned forward, smirking. “You’re my son, so of course you are. Trust me, kid, you’ve got the genes. Now, you just need the confidence to back it up.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, sure. Because confidence is something you can just magically summon.”

“Exactly,” Max said, snapping his fingers like it was that simple. “It’s all in the attitude. Look, you don’t need to be the smartest or the funniest guy in the room. You just need to act like you know something they don’t. Makes them curious. Curiosity’s half the battle.”

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”

Max grinned, sitting back and gesturing to the waitress for another round. “And yet, here I am. Multi-millionaire. World champion. Living proof it works.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” Noah hesitated, then gestured vaguely at Max’s whole presence. “You.”

“Exactly. And you’re half me. Which means you’ve already got a head start.” Max leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting Noah in on a secret. “Here’s the trick: don’t overthink it. If you go out there looking like you’ve got something to prove, you’ll scare ‘em off. Just...be cool.”

“Cool,” Noah repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice.”

Max smirked, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But if I come back with two numbers before you even finish that drink, you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head as Max strolled off toward the dance floor, impossibly confident and infuriatingly charismatic. It was hard not to admire it, even if it made him feel like an awkward kid in comparison.

He stared down at his empty glass, debating whether to order another drink or just leave, when a girl about his age walked past and glanced his way. She gave him a small smile, and Noah froze, his heart racing.

Max’s words echoed in his head. “Just act like you know something they don’t.”

Noah took a deep breath, set his empty glass on the table, and stood up. His palms felt clammy, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit back down. But then he caught Max watching from the floor with an infuriating smirk before turning to whichever woman he was talking to this time.

Don’t overthink it, Noah reminded himself. Just be cool.

The girl was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a friend, laughing at something on her phone. She looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him in curiosity.

“Hey,” Noah said, trying to sound casual. “You looked like you needed saving from a bad joke.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And you’re the knight in shining armour?”

“Something like that,” Noah said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Or at least I’m not the guy who made you laugh like that.”

Her smile widened, and her friend nudged her playfully before disappearing toward the bar. “Smooth,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you use that line often?”

“First time, actually,” Noah admitted, his lips twitching into a nervous grin.

The honesty seemed to win her over. They started talking—light, easy banter—and before Noah knew it, she was laughing at something he’d said about his dad being a “professional bad influence.”

From the booth, Max had a clear view of the whole thing. He nudged Lando, grinning like a proud idiot. “Lan, look!” He pointed toward the dance floor. “The son of a bitch did it!”

Lando squinted, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “He’s my kid. Of course he’s got it in him.”

Noah returned to the table a while later, looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen, and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his cheek.

Max raised his glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy!”

Noah slid into the booth, trying to suppress a grin. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Max said, slapping him on the back. “You’re officially part of the club now.”

Lando smirked. “Better keep an eye on him, Max. He’s almost got more potential than you.”

“Potential? He’s a damn prodigy,” Max joked, laughing. “First drink, first girl, all in one night. Kid’s got a better batting average than I did at his age.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. As much as his dad’s teasing drove him crazy, there was something undeniably cool about seeing Max so proud.

“Alright,” Max said, clapping his hands together. “Now that you’ve got your feet wet, let’s see if you can do it again.”

Noah shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “But just so you know—you’ve officially graduated from boring.”

For once, Noah didn’t argue.

the end.

458 notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 2 months ago

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ghoap meet-cute (?) AU idea

but soap’s beige flag is that whenever he gets a spam/scam call he likes to pick up—despite knowing that will probably get him on some list that will only result in more calls—and answer with the most absurd thing he can think of off the top of his head at a given moment. he’s feigned implicating telemarketers in murder, pretended to be the proud owner of various nonexistent businesses with odd names, tried to debate stupid topics, and so on. it’s harmless, and it’s fun, and it’s not a habit he thinks he needs to break.

when he gets an unexpected call one afternoon from an unknown number, his response is just the same as always—this time it’s some miserable pun of a mortuary name that leaves his mouth like it’s second nature the moment he picks up.

except this time it isn’t a scam call, and instead it’s someone on the other end who sounds like they’re trying to hide a disbelieving laugh when they tell soap, sorry, must’ve dialled the wrong number.

hearing that voice, deep and pleasantly rough, soap scrambles to keep the person on the line just to listen more. he quickly explains that no, it was a joke, he just does that to annoy telemarketers, it was a stupid pun anyway, so sorry about that. soap isn’t sure the words are all that comprehensible, but he’s desperate, and that voice is attractive, and maybe it’s the wrong number but hey, i can still talk.

and they do. only for a few minutes this time, but even without names they mutually agree to save one another’s numbers, and thus begins a long-winded saga of somehow catching feelings despite not knowing one another’s real names (they only ever got as far as ghost and soap) and never seeing each other’s faces, but it happens. they make a habit of greeting each other with stupid puns, and then they make a habit of flirting, and then soap has to bite his tongue every time he has a thought of maybe asking to meet.

he never gets the chance to ask, though, because as he’s walking through the city, running errands while on the phone with ghost, soap wanders into a quiet cafe, and while he’s standing in line it’s as if he’s suddenly hearing double. soap turns to find the second source, and sees a man sitting at a table by the window, that same voice telling the same story soap is listening to from his phone.

soap risks making an excuse to hang up, forgoes ordering something out of fear ghost might leave, and forces his legs to move toward the table with the man who definitely has to be ghost, now looking a little sullen that his conversation had been ended. he slides into the seat across from ghost, immediately earning himself an apprehensive, incredibly judgemental look.

i’m john, soap says. ghost furrows his brow. from the mortuary?

it takes a moment for the recognition to register on ghost’s face, but the moment it does is glorious.

maybe soap should have asked about meeting up after all—if only to have been able to witness that smile much, much sooner.

and to think it had all started with a wrong number.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

567 notes · View notes

saexy · 3 months ago

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────── 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆

𝐹𝑇. 𝑅𝐼𝑁 𝐼𝑇𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐼 // you are sae's sweetheart, but things take an interesting turn when his younger brother starts to fancy you. [ 6.7k ]

cw ! nsfw + mdni. yandere / cheating themes. afab / sister-in-law reader. reader is in an established relationship w/ sae. male masterbation. fingering. oral recieving (f). size kink / corruption kink (kinda). rin calls reader nee-san. (pseudocest) debut + self indulgent (no comments) ?@?#?@

dear reader ! i am excited to share this! rin + this trope had hogged my mind so well... disclaimer ! i have no experience in writing smut and english is not my first language. the food idea was from a convo with grayy (thankyou), biggest thanks to renaa the supportt grr ily <33 and TORII! ( @twitoshi ) baby so grateful to have thoughts from youu!! ilysm !! #BESTBETAEVER.AAH KISSINGYOU SO HARD RN T^T

The hot water ran down your back, draining away the soreness of the busy day. It was later than usual, and you did wait long for Rin before intruding his bathroom for a late night shower. It came to this, all because the showerhead in your room was broken. So, after an hour long you just invited yourself into his room.

His room was so devoid of things, it felt colder than before with his presence gone for so long, unlike Sae’s. But it was only that way thanks to you taking out the time to decorate and buy pieces for the apartment. So, when Rin started staying over, you set one for him.

“When you get a girlfriend, she can decorate this place all she wants…” You had joked hinting he could move in, when you took him out shopping. “I do not plan to date anytime soon.”

Ever since you met Rin at the family dinner, you adored him, instantly. You had always longed for a perfect family, and he seemed to fit so well. Since then you made it a point to visit him with treats and new movies to talk about, inviting him over for dinners whenever you got a chance, which were usually turned down. Yet you were so driven to keep him around, it didn’t matter. Being aware of how things went down between the two brothers, you were careful to not step on any toes, but still looking out for Rin always and making sure he felt welcomed to spend time with you and Sae.

“I don't mean to pressure you Rinnie-” Rinnie, he frowned at the nickname making you correct yourself in an instant. He didn't consider you close enough to be giving him nicknames yet it felt oddly comforting the way his name rolled off your tongue, a sense of affection he didn't realise you dug in him. “Rin- I mean... I don't mean to overstep between you brothers, but I’m always here if you want to get things off your chest or just a friend. Consider me your nee-san Rinnie…” You smiled sweetly at him, tenderly cupping his cheek. The warm affection of your kind nature disgusted him, but you shrugged off lovingly. It went over a few times, until he got around to calling you that. Nee-san. And he was your Rinnie from the start.

Sae, for a matter of fact, wasn't dismissive of Rin's presence. He even offered to let him stay over if he wished to. The first time Rin accepted the invite, he barely slept at all. The walls weren’t thin, but you were so goddamn loud—every sound and moan reaching him despite the concrete. Hoping it would pass, he put on some music. But, even that failed to drown your whines. He considered leaving or at least knocking on both of your doors, but the soft, lewd moans seeping through the walls invaded his mind uncontrollably. It was obscene to picture you but he didn't fight it. The depths of his heart, twisting shamelessly into what was the tip of his infernal yearnings. Every stolen glance, every touch in the shadows, sowed into an unaware desire. Giving in to your angelic voice, laced with sultry undertone that rang in his ears, making every minute feel like torture. The line of right or wrong blurred so easily. It poisoned him. It was repulsive how despite his better judgement, you coaxed him to pull down his boxers.

The next morning could’ve been better had you not walked out in one of Sae's tanks, barely covering anything, tying your hair up, your face puffed, as you approached the kitchen station. “Fuck” You shrieked, finding him in your kitchen. Did you not remember he stayed over?

“Sorry, Rinnie,” you said, sitting by the station, leaning over the island lazily. “Sae and I got around to drinking a little. He is off practice this week, we-we got a little carried away…” Your voice was sheepish, falling into a chuckle as the memories of last night replayed fresh. You blushed drifting off.

“What you doing baby?” Baby, you never gave it a rest did you? Your chest displayed purple marks from the night before as you hunched over. Rin couldn't help but steal a few glances down at your body. Glowing despite your hungover and the messily tied up hair. It was perfect, accentuating your exposed neck. His eyes drawn to the sight of you, as you arched and stretched with half lidded sleepy eyes. He ogled at your pebbling nipples poking through the white tee, so perked and tightening by your sides as the tee somehow managed to concede it. Last night, he palmed himself to your whimpers, and the way you sat right now was inviting for something more. The idea of fancying you was alone be loathing, yet the more he hated, the more eagerly he stripped you naked in his head.

“Baby...” Sae’s morning voice followed from behind making Rin immediately look away. Whatever you did, had his nii-chan wrapped around your finger. Sae squished your face roughly up to meet his, pulling you into a hasty kiss. He held you so recklessly, with no manner or care, Rin watched his brother manhandle you from the corner of eye. The redhead’s lips linger on your mouth, as you sneak a taste in between, sticking your tongue out wide for him to play on. His fingers traced your neck as you gulped, you didn’t care how he touched you in front of another; if anything, you fed into his ego. You mumbled sweet nothings teasingly as you wished him a good morning, your eyes twinkling with mischief. It was as if you revelled in the attention, the subtle touches, and the way it made him feel. Rin’s gaze followed your tongue, licking the corners of your mouth, the crunch of your subtle bites aimed for Sae and Sae alone. The inconsiderate touches, sickened Rin, toying with him like a puppet. Even when Sae pulled away, finally acknowledging Rin, you pressed yourself against his stomach softly. His hands roamed confidently across your chin all through your neck, as though mocking his younger brother. You seemed to enjoy the raw affection of your lover. The rough demanding touches, building fantasies of how you liked it.

“Slept well?” Sae snapped, shattering the thoughts that had been swirling in Rin’s mind as if they were loud enough to be heard by his older brother. A cold shiver ran down his back upon hearing Sae’s voice. It made him feel fifteen again—weak, naive, his confidence crushed in an instant. He hated the feeling rising in his chest, making it hard to swallow. Did nii-chan know? No, that would be silly. His eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“Be nice, Sae!” you whispered softly, wasn't this unbearable enough that you were rushing to his defence.

“I slept fine,” Rin lied, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“Okay, stay for brunch,” Sae hummed, his attempt at being nice, then shifted his attention, “and you…” Just two words from Sae had you standing instantly, leaving Rin feeling utterly invisible.

Rin clenched his fists, heart pounding as he slowly realised he was becoming a prisoner of his own thoughts of you. The way Sae held you, the way you kissed Sae with such fervour—it filled him with both longing and frustration. The more his brother possessed you, the more Rin ached to hold you in the same way, to make you his. He convinced himself he could treat you better than Sae ever would, love you more than you could imagine.

Rin started crashing over more often, always around whenever Sae was away. You had found a friend to keep you company, but for Rin, your presence plagued him. He couldn’t escape the sight of you, You began showing up at his practices after work whenever you could, and it only made things worse—or maybe better. He couldn't decide. The wardrobe choices set him into a spiral. The cute low-cut floral dresses, hugging your body a little too tight had him wiping his drool between the game. Every time he scored you cheered praising him from the benches. You paid attention to his play, unwavering. He hated the looks his teammates passed at you. You were his Nee-chan, only he possessed the right to look at you, though insane, it was perfectly rationalised to him.

Despite his ignorant pretending—your doe-like eyes and the softness in your voice that only served to annoy him further. Sometimes, pushing it too far, babying him in front of everyone. He knew deep down you meant well, however this show of affection deeply fumed his annoyance— Yet, he indulged in it every minute around you. The way you were so small in his comparison, wrapping your arms around his large frame—he practically towered over you—tip-toeing in your high heels, to shuffle his hair for his performance. Always looking up to him, eyebrows raised, shimmery eyes, as you blinked dreamily, you were clawing your way under his skin, it was nauseating to picture how pretty you’d be under him. Beneath his sneer and frustration, there was an undeniable craving for the attention you lavished on him.

He found himself groaning alone, devoid of you, setting a rhythm to his jerks. Mind left to run wild, a devil’s spawn. He desired the intimacy of your touches right now. Your hands, so much smaller and softer than his own, your wide beautiful innocent eyes fluttering with tears as you’d take him in your mouth. The image of your red lips latching onto his cock, would it fit? He’d make it fit. Losing his mind to have you on your knees, tits bouncing as he’d push his length down further. The mouth that kissed him with words, he would fuck it so well. Make you so cock drunk on him, until you're begging for more, intoxicated by his veins. Did you enjoy playing these sick mind games with him? Being so careless, bumping into him on purpose, making him catch you by the waist. Did you like to sweep your hands as an excuse to stand straight every time you stumbled. Did you pretend to fall asleep when you both watched movies, tugging tightly onto his shirt? But he held back. He held back when he would put you in your bed. When he could smell himself on you in the morning. He would love you better, fuck you harder than his nii-chan could ever, if you ever open yourself to him... Did you see him the way he saw you? Numbing his sense of awareness, until it all disappeared into nothing but you. You, your scent, your being consuming him every second. Rin’s head fell back to the cold water running down. “Nee-san” he moaned, cursing you. He would ruin you in unimaginable ways, nestle in your mouth, make you swallow him as whole, will you do that for him? Your mouth filled with him, gloss smeared in his cum. He practically drooled again, head thrown back, the faster his hand rutted the clearer his visions got. The hate that disappeared in between slipped back once the translucent fluid messed about his hand. Fucking disgusting nee-san.

“You took so long Rinnie…” You pouted worrisomely, “Did something happen?” The thought alone had him softening for you. Again. It was the same face you made whenever Sae’s flights got delayed. It irked him. It took all of him to not sneer and tell you it was your fault. Why did you show up in these skimpy clothes? “It was nothing nee-san” Instead he brushed off, with a frown. No matter how hard Rin lied at the end of the day, it was you who he found himself running back to. Just one last time he told himself before he gave into it every single night.

“Rinnie, taste this” you put your hand holding his favourite sauce, “I've been trying to get this right... Tell me if you like it” You were overbearing to him. The more around you were, the more frustrating it got for him at times. Always intruding with a yearning gaze, a full curve smile, having you around was bad for him he knew. But not being around you was far worse for him. Miserable, it felt miserable to have his pants strained at mere gestures of you, to not be the one to kiss you all the places you touched yourself thinking of his brother. You did everything with him, but fucked his brother. Were you so unaware of what effect you had on him?

His brows furrowed, tasting the sweetness off your finger, it wasn't intentional but his tongue swept off a little further. You didn't flinch at all. “You like it?” There it was again. “Hmm...” He only grumbled, but his eyes widened for what you did next. Rin hung to your every moment as you licked your finger back, savouring the sweet sour taste of the sauce. “It is good!” Wasn’t it enough he woke up in the middle of the night to your moans and whimpers, deranging him of reality, that you put new images in his head.

“Do you think Sae will like it?”

There it was—the fracture in his perfect illusion. Sae. Always Sae. Each time Rin felt a thread of closeness with you, his brother’s name would slip from your lips, ripping Rin’s carefully woven fantasy apart. Rin blamed Sae. How could you—so pure, so innocent—see anything in a man like him? Sae wasn’t there to hold you when you twisted in your bed, buried in pillows restless and aching for him. All while he laid awake in the dead of night, waiting for your breathing to slow, your voice to whisper softly in your sleep. Rin, learnt your patterns. He saw the way you tossed and turned, your body subconsciously reaching out for something that wasn’t there. And it enraged him—Sae wasn’t even here, so coudln’t you shake him off your mind.

Rin turned over in bed, teeth gritted as he clutched your panties—so conveniently forgotten—held tight in his fist. Your scent overwhelmed his senses, lacing his thoughts with heat that crawled under his skin. He breathed deep into the fabric, inhaling every little bit of you, eyes closed, imagining your touch on his skin, your soft moans filling his ears. His hand moved faster, body drowned in need, but then it came—his name, spilling from your lips even in your sleep. A cruel reminder of the barrier that always stood between him and you.

The night your phone rang, you were still blissfully unaware, passed out from drinking too much, lost in your oblivious dreams. Rin glanced at your phone—Sae <3. His brother’s name flashed on the screen. A tightness in his throat knotting him, knowing Sae didn’t deserve the glimpse into your life that Rin guarded so fiercely.

Sae’s raised eyebrow surprised to see his brother. "Where is she?"

Rin swallowed thickly, his voice struggling to stay steady. “She’s asleep—”

But before he could finish, you stirred, murmuring that cursed name even in your haze of sleep. "Sae?"

A flash of something dark surged in Rin. You were in his bed, surrounded by his warmth, while your mind still lingered on his brother.

The decision snapped in his mind—he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to have you, fully, irrevocably. But fear clenched his gut. You loved Sae, that was undeniable, but he knew you felt something for him, too. You couldn’t fake the moments when your gaze lingered too long, when you called him your sweet "Rinnie" with a tenderness that drove him insane.

In some world, it could have been enough, but right now it wasn’t. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

So, Rin pulled back. He needed you to want him, need him, in the same consuming way he needed you. It was a sick game, and he was prepared to play it. If you couldn’t give him what he wanted, then he’d make you see it. No more nights spent in your bed, no more tender moments when you fell asleep in his arms. It was excruciating.You missed him, but he articulated his excuse so well you believed him without doubt. Drowning in self loathe, he hated lying to you.

But tonight, he promised to come back. You had wanted to cook for him, but work ended so late, and now you were hoping Rin would bring something to eat.

His phone rang thrice, your name screened, before he muted it. He had made promises to you, sure, but those felt distant, half-forgotten. He wanted to keep his little chase up, but she made him feel more than a man he had ever felt with you. She did not weigh down his insecurities, always being second best; She was more composed than you could ever be. She was prettier, better than you, and kissed him, so why did his mind wander off to your cherry lips, digging in his subconsciousness he tried to deny. You were the one he slept next to. Deaf to her voice, pulsating to your memories. Every step away from you only brought him closer.

The date ended not too late. When he checked his phone again, the screen read 11:23. Five missed calls. Four unread texts.

06:33 PM: Rinnie, have some last minute work, might be an hour or two late. Sorry to cancel dinner tonite :(((

07:54 PM: Can you get takeout if you’re still coming over? I will be home by 10.

10:24 PM: If you’re not coming it’s fine… I’m just worried about you…

10:25 PM: I hope you're safe, baby.

He would’ve ignored you the way it was going, make you work for it like he had planned it out, but upon dialling back when you did not pick up, He felt the surge of urgency to see you for himself. He should be driving back with his girlfriend, but he wasn’t. The little facade breaking down, he was never going to win. So depraved of you since these past days, he couldn't hold back. You made him so weak. Had he left you alone for too long? He could taste the guilt, bitter in his throat. Fuck. Knowing that the one time you asked for him—needed him—he had failed you. Why didn’t you just give him a reason to hate you?

“Nee-san...” His voice broke through the thick silence as he dialled for delivery, pacing, the sound of running water echoing from the bathroom. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, not after the cold silence between you. He heard the water stop, then your voice, soft and distant. “Rinnie, I’m in here,” you called from his room.

His breath hitched. You were in his room. His pulse raced as he stepped closer, mouth dry when he saw you emerge, a towel wrapped loosely around your body.

“The shower head was broken, sorry for intruding… I’ll get it fixed.” you explained, a little embarrassed at the scene. You sounded distant. Did he make you feel that way now? Did his presence not comfort you anymore? Why did you have to apologise like that? Were you upset that he was gone? Did he just fuck up everything by not thinking this through?

His eyes travelled down your wet body, God he missed your reckless ways in which you moved, the light in your eyes that had once pulled him in like gravity. He missed you, but this time around you had missed him equally, or more. “I thought you weren't showing up? You barely come over anymore” You shuffled around picking your things walking around him as he stood like a statue, a strange feeling he couldn't stomach.

“Uh- I was with a friend-”

“Oh.” Oh? You didn’t ask for details, didn’t tease him the way you always did. Just that one word—so cold, so unlike you. The silence suffocated him as he watched you walk out of the room, he followed. He felt uneasy with this feeling festering in his chest. Afterall he meant for all this to happen, but the hostility was maddening.

“Umm-”

You put your clothes in the laundry and he stuttered to find his words, laying out your night pyjamas, “Did you forget something?” You spoke so plainly it hurt his cavity. “Umm.. dinner.. I ordered dinner, creamy cheese pasta and pesto sauce.. you like that nee-san” desperate for a sign that you still cared.

You sighed, barely a whisper, “I-” the way his eyes changed, the hindrance of guilt covering his face. “... I can't say no to that but first I need to change…” You stretched the curtain on his face. He turned around. Curiosity getting the better of him, he heard the soft rustle of fabric, the faint thud of your towel hitting the floor. His mind raced, his body tense, picturing you there, so close yet so far.. “Did you not get my texts Rinnie..?”

Moment of truth? He never wanted you to learn about her, He knew what he should say. He knew how easy it would be to lie, to smooth over this mess. Still, his tongue caught between confession and deceit.

“Don’t lie to me baby”

“I- I was on a date..” He blurted.

You froze, the air between you thickening. You pushed the curtain aside, your expression a mix of disbelief and something darker—something that sent a chill down his spine. “A date?” Rin with a girlfriend didn't quite sit easy with you. It was rather strange and out of character from what you've come to know about him.

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “Yeah. It... it was nothing.”

“Nothing?” you echoed, disbelief tinged with something sharp. You stared at him, waiting for more, waiting for something that made sense. Because this wasn’t like Rin.

Rin felt trapped under the weight of your eyes. “I didn’t— It just... happened.” His voice cracked at the end, frustration lacing every word. “I thought... I thought maybe I could forget for a while.” He was inaudible but you heard him.

“Forget what?” you asked, voice quieter now.

Forget you.

“Nothing.”

—

You busied yourself in the kitchen, the dinner had to be nothing less than perfect. Rin had always been more reserved, keeping to himself, but tonight felt different. He finally planned a dinner at your place with his girlfriend, and though you couldn't quite pinpoint why, there was something about it that made you feel uneasy. And god forbid if you could read his mind. You didn’t understand why he had been so hesitant—he always dodged the topic when you asked, giving vague answers, as if he wasn’t ready to fully admit she existed. From the little he told you, she seemed lovely, but each time he mentioned her, a knot twisted in your stomach. It didn’t make sense, not until tonight, when you finally met her.

The devil lied in the details, it was subtle swatches across his shoulder, the they she caressed his face, licking the corner of her mouth. How she pushed her hair back, her eyes motioning slowly for Rin, the sparkle of joy. The realisation crept in slowly, the way she styled herself, the way she moved... It was like looking in a mirror, a distorted version of yourself. It wasn't blatantly obvious, but you read her like a book. Both of your reactions to Rin were almost mirroring. Almost as if a hastily built clone with no care. It couldn't be, it was a pure coincidence. Rin’s hand rested possessively on her waist as they stood together, his fingers clutching tightly around her. It looked strange—wrong, even. Your baby was flying from the nest, and this was just jitters, you just wanted the best for him. And who but you knew what was best for him.

You glanced at the clock, feeling the heaviness in your chest grow as you placed the crockery out. You stared at nothing in particular, lost in your thoughts, the clinking of dishes becoming mechanical. “Nee san?” Rin called out breaking through your wall. He stood tall behind you, his body casting a shadow as he towered you catching the sipping plate. His brows furrowed, concerned. You blinked, realising you had been staring directly at him, yet completely lost in your own mind. Past weeks, even though he put an effort to be around, you had been pulling away no matter how hard he tried, a failed attempt each time. You stopped coming for his practices all together. No shopping, maybe he was overthinking, what if it was just a misunderstanding and you were mad at his brother? It edged him every passing day. The distance was unbearable, like a punishment he couldn’t understand, He was the same boy? Did getting a girlfriend bothered you so much, but you were so sincere around him. Then, why won’t you just hold him like before? It was cruel even for you to treat him this way. And tonight bothered you beyond resolute.

“Are you... okay?” Rin’s voice was tight, his eyes traced the way you fidgeted with the red strings tied around your dress, your gaze shifting to anything but him.

“I’m fine” You say faintly, losing focus again as you stumble, reaching out to the stone slab. Rin instinctively caught you by the sides. His large hands swiftly slipped down. It wasn't something he had ever planned to do, but the moment called for it. He had held back for so long, always looking in from shadows, but right now you were pressed against his torso, your dress slid up from the friction. Drunk from your tired, heavy gaze, he felt losing control of it. Your perfume filled him to the brim.

“What’s going on with you?” He snapped clenching his jaw, his frustration getting the better of him. You shuddered at the raised voice, making him instantly regret it, squirmed a little in his brace, but his grip untouched.

“You’ve changed…”

The words fell short in his mouth, you assumed he'd break away to let you slip, but his fists tightened, riding your dress higher.

“Rin... What are you-” You breathed heavily. The sound of his name on your lips was his undoing. The last straw, when you were so fragile at his bay. His dick throbbed as your bodies pressed on tighter, leaving no space in between. Longing fingers, motioned hesitantly, searching their way around your thighs.

“Changed? Huh?” He growled, pressing on further, “Why? Because I don’t let you cling to me anymore? Because I’m tired of being second best to him?” His words came out in a rush, his breath hot and vexed as he tried to make sense of the storm raging inside. How easy for you to tell him he changed. He didn’t know whether to hate you or fall apart in your hands or to remind you he was the same man. Regardless of how much he fought it, he couldn't pull away. You were too close, too tempting, and every second you spent in his grasp only fed his conflicting emotions.

You smiled faintly, brushing your fingers lightly across his chest. "Is that what you think? That you're second best?" Your voice was dipped in honey. “Is that why she is sitting outside?... Is that why you stopped coming home, to me?” glassed eyes pierced his teal one. Rin hated how easily you got under his skin, how simply you twisted his emotions until he couldn’t think straight. But even as he tried to maintain his stand, he felt himself crumbling at you breaking down.

His fingers brushed against the dampness of your arousal, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you moaned softly, shutting your eyes helplessly leaning into him. The sound sent electricity straight through him. Your hands reached up, clutching at his turtleneck, pulling him down to meet your gaze. “You hurt me like that Rinnie” Your doe eyes still held their innocence, but the predator in you was clear as day, making him kneel. Wicked. He was going to make up for all the shit he had put you through, correction, the mess you deluded him he put you through. Rin lifted the scarlet hem, to find the black laced panties sticking wet. His date was the last thing on his mind. Even if the world were ending, it wouldn’t have mattered. He needed you first—needed you more than anything else. Without hesitation, he pushed your panties to the side and latched his tongue onto your wetness, desperate to taste you.

You were perfect, gorgeous the way your pussy split open to his tongue, it was a sight he never in a million wild dreams could have imagined. You felt the cool aire being replaced by his spit. Tongue roughly sweeping across your slit. His sharp moves drew out lewd noises, “Slo-ah-ahw dah-own” you squirmed as your legs started closing in from the rough pace. Rin didn't want to savour any taste, all he needed was to relinquish his thirst for you for months now, empowering all his other senses. The heat radiating from your core, your peachy lips parted in pleasure—it turned him into a monster, one you had created. “Fuck, just cum on my tongue” Rin sloppily spoke, breaking in between kissing your sweetness. The wet smacking sound filled the space, as he blew into your cunt making you cm messily. The milky fluid he lapped, pushing his tongue inside, as your body twitched on him. It wasn’t enough, you rushed this one. Start over.

He pushed one of your legs over his shoulder, letting your weight rest on him. Every flick of his tongue, a desperate attempt to hear you moan his name once. And when you bit your lips, eating up your pleasure, it only made him more feral, more determined to claim you. His pace quickened, your fingers tangling in his teal locks, stroking in and out in reach of something sturdy.

You squirmed over his face. Your sweet core was so welcoming, he could stay like this for hours—devouring you, making you cum over and over until you were nothing but a trembling, blissed-out mess. He groaned against your sensitive skin, sucking on your swollen lips, gripping them between his teeth with just enough pressure to make you cry out. Every sound you made drove him further into madness, desperate to keep you on the edge, completely lost to the sensation of his mouth on you.

“Did you miss me so m-much-uh.. I thought yuh- didn-t mpph- like your nee-san a-anymore” You moaned, pushing yourself into his face shamelessly.Your head threw back surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure he brought on. It was a blissful sight. He resented himself as staying away from you, but instead of words he just wanted to show you.

Rin was merciless, curling his slender fingers inside you, with no rhythm or restraint, just pure starvation to break you on his hand. He didn’t care for setting a pace, his thrusts were wild and desperate, matching the chaos in his mind.The dining room way away thankfully, but part of him liked the thrill that his date could walk in at any moment, finding him knuckles deep in you. Hell, he needed his nii chan to walk the sight of you pleading him to go faster.

He abruptly stood up, slamming you against the fridge. It was hot even for him to be so aggressive around you. Rin, blushed seeing how much you liked it. The way your body reacted, sliding into orgasm, your knees growing weak, he had been edging you for so long. “Look at me nee-san” Bitterness coated the words that dripped out of his mouth, while you struggled to keep your eyes open, as they fluttered shut with each curl of his fingers, coursing through your pleasure. Saturated on his tongue and now fingers, you whimpered, clawing his sweater.

Even when vulnerable, you were in control, you somehow still held him on a leash. Him, nothing more than a guard dog abiding by your play. He would, he would do it in a heartbeat for you. Your tightness sucked him whole but it wasn't enough, you needed more. “More Rinnie” You didn't care for the guest. You didn’t care about anything but this, so loud, peppering with ghost kisses all over his lips. His thumb ran circles on your neglected clit, pushing another finger inside.Your breath hitched, nearing your close, rutting your skin on his hand, chasing that peak.

Rin lost to the sight of your body jolting and twitching as you came on his fingers. Trembling from your orgasm you rode your high, and he held you. You deeply breathed and he pulled his fingers out intended to make you taste yourself but you got him first, smiling innocently, getting him to suck his own fingers lapped in your cum.

Then, with a soft, teasing smile, you pulled your panties down, stepping out of them before pausing. Your eyes flicked down to his painfully hard length pressing against his pants, and you grazed your fingers over it, making him hiss.Your walk wobbly, throwing him a bone letting him feel you up.

"I'll take care of this later…" you whispered. "She’s waiting." You say, slipping your panties in his pocket.

The reminder of his date hit like a slap, though it only made the burn of his desire for you stronger. You always had him wrapped around your finger, and now he was left to endure the torture of dinner with her—while all he could think about was how soon he could return to you.

The entire Dinner was a pure torture for him. On one side his girlfriend held his hand and across the table your foot snaking up his thigh. He choked on his food when you pressed against his bulge. “Rinnie are you okay?” both of you moved in for him. You pretended to have no clue. He gritted his teeth. If he wasn't just knuckles deep in you, he would've bought the act. It got worse from there, when you asked how long until the two of them were dating. “A week” A week. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly under your breath.

“I am glad it is working out, I was always so worried for Rinnie” You cooed, your tone laced with condescension and sarcasm, only he understood.

Rin couldn’t focus on anything else, couldn’t even enjoy the food, not when you kept getting up to pass the dishes around, reminding him with each movement that you weren't wearing any panties beneath your dress. Your dress seemed to hike, painting his memory.

By the time the dinner finally ended, Rin felt like he had been dragged through hell, his mind and body on edge. His girlfriend was completely unaware, talking cheerfully as he hastily booked a cab, desperate to get her home so he’d have you to himself.

The door didn't fully close behind Rin, and he had you pushed back to the wall. This new side to him, unravelled, pressing you harshly onto you. He spit words in your face, “I fucking hate you to my gut…Nee san” He spat bitter words, brain shutting down driven by nothing but pure hunger to swallow you. You had played him like a rag doll and it was getting clear to him. Yet, somehow even his cynicism laced you with warmth inside.

Your eyes stayed floored from underlying discomfort from his actions and not the words, “Is that what you told yourself when you went…” you paused for a second and then your eyes mirrored his, “...and found the next girl who’d give you the same feelings as me?” You read him, you read his ways so effortlessly. “I thought you’d do better Rinnie… Do you think she’ll love you the same, just because she acts like me?” your eyes, endearing, a perfect escape for the devil to reside in. He found himself unable to escape from his reflection he saw in you. “She won't take care of you… like I do.”

You sheepishly slipped into his side, his heart raced when you were so close to him. He knew exactly where it led. “Rinnie'' You said in a low voice comforting his little insecurities. “I know you better than they all can ever…” Pulling away, leaving a trail of kisses along his cheek all the way till his body was reacting on its own, throwing his head back, making you climb on him, letting it linger for a moment til he regained himself of what he truly was. Vile. “...ever try to be. I won’t let them take you from me…” You cupped his cheek, without a hesitation he was drawn into your brace. Head resting on the soft fabric hearing his heart thump. He found himself unable to escape from the gentle arms that hung loosely. Words lost his way from his mouth,, but this was far more comforting than anything in his life has ever felt. “She won't take care of you… ” Your words dizzied him, lulling him to a sweet song, until all of him was reduced to you. His hands slipped past your waist under your guidance, you ignited his crave to touch you bare, to kiss you on the mouth you taste you just once.. “You understand what I'm saying, Rinnie?” he nodded like a lost puppy completely taken by you.

“They don't love you like I do” You say, fidgeting with the wool. “You’ll stay with me Rinnie? Won’t you?” It was crazy how much effect you had on him, as you slowly unzipped the long strained pants, leading him by the couch as you straddled in his lap. Your sensitive skin settling itself in his hardness. Arching your back, as you felt him poking harder, growing into a rock under you. Rin couldn't fight you, not when you sat on him like a dream, dress dishevelled, soiling his pants from the stickiness of your thighs as you dripped. Your breasts spilled from the loose dress. He didn't spend another second, pulling it down as he latched hungrily on your skin. Rin was never the type to savour a taste, just the utter fascination of swallowing you as a whole ran through his mind. You didn't hold back, and he, hell bent on draining you of your moans and oxygen. You bite your lip when he squeezed your supple breasts. Putting your nipples between his teeth, playing in his mouth. The pain had you teared and overwhelmed you but the pleasure of his obsession overpowered. You were softer than a feather, and so god damn fragile, how could he ever dream of anybody else. His tongue swirled around, teasing you painfully. Rin, didn't realise his strength as he pulled your hair, bending you to his pleasure, nothing but flesh for him to eat. He sucked harder, each time you whined, and his canines dig in deeper. He was beyond gone. Painting you in a shell of bruises, as you ran fingers in his hair. Nothing was more rewarding to see him at his worst, turned into an animal for you, for you alone. The adrenaline rushed into your brain, as you bled a little from his harsh bites, his teal eyes, cold in lust and hatred. You came a little undone just from bare sight. “Cumming just like that, Neesan?” He mocked but it only made you wince, as you licked the corner of your mouth. You pushed his hair back, watching his tongue hanging low, licking his ear, “You need me… don't you?” The tone, the words, your confidence unshakingraged him, his eyes darkened hating to admit the truth. “Then have me…” It snapped, this wasn't about Sae, it was just this urge to be seen and loved by you. Like you were right now. It was twisted, but you were so convincing, feeding yourself to him.Before you even finished, Rin pushed you over the couch, you giggled at his restlessness taking off his sweater, cracking his neck. YOur fingers traced his rock abdomen, pleased as your small frame glistened in his spit. Before you knew he was unbuckling his pants, eager and driven. You were going to keep him with you forever.

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icyminghao · 6 months ago

Text

a bouquet a day

pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader genre: fluff, meet-cute, florist!reader warning(s): none word count: 1.1k

summary: you find yourself noticing a certain good-looking man frequenting your flower shop daily, and you’re dying to get to know him.

a/n: this was loosely inspired by @hoshipills’s idea of a seungcheol mafia x florist au!!! though it isn’t implied that seungcheol is a mafia here, i still thought the idea was rly cute and wanted to expand on it :)

He’s here again.

And by ‘he’, you mean the gorgeous, almost intimidating-looking man who comes by your shop to purchase an extravagant bouquet of flowers almost daily. He’s always dressed in the darkest of colours, and today is no different as he adorns a black turtleneck with black slacks, looking very much like the grim reaper.

You usually tend to stay judgement-free when it comes to your customers, but this man in particular has been coming one too many times for it to be considered normal.

But then again, who are you to judge, right?

“Hi, again,” the man practically squeaks before clearing his throat, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, “May I get a bouquet of daisies this time, please?”

“Sure! You can take a seat here for a while, I’ll get it ready as soon as possible,” you gesture to the lounge area of your shop like it’s the first time that man has been here (it definitely isn’t), before turning to prepare the bouquet he had requested.

“Take your time,” you hear the man reply, and you smile as you get to work.

“What’s your name?” you ask a few minutes later, as the man is standing behind the counter and as you’re keying in his order on your tablet.

The man’s eyes widen, seemingly shocked at the fact that you’d started a conversation with him. “I—”

“I- I’m just asking because!” you cut him off suddenly, feeling like the shop got hotter, “Because you come here quite often, but I don’t know your name.”

What’s wrong with me? you think, mentally chastising yourself for your erratic behaviour, why are you explaining yourself?

“Seungcheol,” the man, or Seungcheol, replies after a beat, the softest of smiles resting on his face as he watches you try not to die from embarrassment.

For some reason, you’re unable to form a coherent sentence, finding yourself nodding instead as you push the bouquet of daisies on the counter towards him before holding up the card reader so Seungcheol can pay.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Seungcheol asks as he taps his card on the reader, eyes never leaving yours as he does.

You pause, mouth opening and closing like a fish before you slowly react, “Daisies. I love daisies.”

Seungcheol’s smile stretches wider, and he pushes the bouquet on the counter towards you. You blink, confused.

“For you,” Seungcheol nods towards the flowers, “Thank you for accommodating me every time I visit.”

To your surprise, he turns and leaves before you can reply.

Huh, you think, gaping at the door in confusion before turning to go back to work after a while, I’ll have to prepare some flowers to thank him tomorrow.

To your disappointment, Seungcheol doesn’t show up the next day.

And the next day, and the day after the next.

By the fifth day, you’re starting to come to terms with the very real possibility that Seungcheol isn’t coming to the shop anymore when he suddenly bursts in five minutes before the shop is due to close.

He’s panting a little, hair slightly disheveled, and you suppress the urge to reach over and fix it for him. Instead, you simply stare at his figure in front of the door, confusion written all over your face.

“Hi,” he breathes out, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Hi!” you chirp, wincing at the unnaturally high pitch of your voice, “Are you here to shop flowers again?”

“Yeah! Um, no—” Seungcheol stutters, and you try your hardest to keep a straight face, “I just wanted to apologise for rushing out like that the other day.”

You blink. “Oh! It’s okay, you must’ve been busy.”

Seungcheol chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, and silence ensues between the two of you.

“Um!” you pipe up after a while, briskly walking behind the counter upon remembering something, “I… wanted to give you this. To thank you for the daisies the other day.”

Placing a bouquet of handpicked flowers on the counter, you slide it closer to Seungcheol and gesture for him to come forward.

“These are…” Seungcheol’s ears are visibly redder, though you can’t quite understand why. Perhaps the shop is too cold?

“Pink roses! They represent gratitude,” and admiration, but Seungcheol does not need to know that.

“T-thank you,” Seungcheol replies, a soft smile resting on his face, “I’ve never received flowers before.”

“Oh! Well,” you panic, “I hope your partner wouldn’t mind that I’m giving you these. It totally slipped my mind when I was preparing these and I’m truly sorry if I’ve overstepped!”

Seungcheol is silent for a moment, as if taking his time to process what you’d just said, before tilting his head in confusion.

“I… don’t have a partner,” he explains, looking slightly sheepish.

At this point, you want nothing more than to bury yourself somewhere and never face him again. “I’m sorry! I just thought you had one since you’d come here every day for a bouquet of flowers, but then again I shouldn’t have assumed anything, so I’m so—”

“I came here for you,” Seungcheol interrupts, and your eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been coming here every day for you,” Seungcheol repeats himself, looking slightly nervous, “I walked in here by chance a few weeks ago and was so taken by you I just couldn’t help coming here every day just to see you. I thought you might find me weird, so I started buying a bouquet of flowers every day so you wouldn’t suspect anything.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, Seungcheol’s words having quite literally rendered you speechless. You watch as Seungcheol’s expression gradually morphs into one of panic, having misintepreted your silence as discomfort.

“All that to say! I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way, if I’ve weirded you out, I’ll be more than happy to leave and never come back again,” Seungcheol rushes to explain himself, his voice gradually getting softer, “But on the off-chance that what I’m feeling right now is mutual, would… you allow me to take you out on a date sometime?”

You smile, heart nearly beating out of your chest, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. The date, I mean, not the part about you leaving and never coming back—”

You’re interrupted by the melodious sound of Seungcheol’s laughter, and you can’t find it in yourself to be mad about it.

“Well, then,” a soft smile rests on Seungcheol’s face, “Would you please do me the honour of giving me your number?”

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro-deactivated20240614 @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

#ICY WRITES #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #caratsland #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt imagines #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol imagines #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups imagine

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poppy-metal · 4 months ago

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thinking of art donaldson who has the most obvious crush on you but you're oblivious so you don't think about it when you tell him you can't go to the movies with him because you have a date that day. you think arts text back is a bit strange. the - Oh. Have fun :) seeming passive aggressive as hell but what reason would he have to feel that way? you think you're probably reading into it too much and decide to lighten the mood by texting him back-

now you don't have to worry about me scaring off potential love interests!!

he leaves you on read for the first time ever since knowing him. a pinch of worry niggles at you. you don't like the idea of upsetting him. did he think you were being a bad friend? flakey? you decide to send him another message -

you know asking a girl to see a scary movie with you can be kinda romantic. you should definitely ask someone to go with in my place <3 that way she can cling to you!

he does text back then.

Right. I'll keep that in mind.

are you mad at me?

dots appear. they dance on your screen. dissappear. reappear again.

Who's the guy?

you bite your lip. he dodged the question, which meant he probably was mad.

just some guy from one of my lectures! his name is craig!

Are you going to fuck him?

you stare at your phone screen. arts cursed in front of you before, but for a guy his age - the amount is minimal - even rarer over text. it sends a bolt of heat through you unexpectedly, a tingle you feel from your head to your toes. you hesitate on what to say - but you're comfortable with art, you're not in the business of lying to him, even if this isn't something you've talked with him about before.

honestly? probably. I don't see him as boyfriend material or anything, but he looks like fun!

you wonder if this is why art is mad. remembering he told you he grew up religious - maybe he still held some of those beliefs and was upset you were ditching him to have unwed sex or whatever.

the dots dance on your screen again for a time. your knee bounces as you wait for his reply, strangely anticipating it.

You're not looking for a boyfriend?

you think about that.

not at the moment!

his reply is quick then.

What are you looking for then?

you think about that too. your cheeks burn a little more - shifting in your seat. your friendship with art is newish - and while you're comfortable with him, there's still parts of yourself he doesn't know about you. like the part where you're kinda a sex fiend - though you wouldn't know it based on how you portray yourself. girlish and bubbly. you weren't ashamed of what you liked - and yet you paused before typing, fear of his judgement making you consider downplaying the truth.

but honesty was the best policy, and you stood by that embarrassment aside.

just sex, for now. I like having it. like, probably more than the normal amount....

art took so long to reply you physically had to stand up and pace around your room, 7 full laps before you came back down to check your texts.

So it's just scratching and itch, then. It could be anyone?

well.... obviously not just anyone. I do have standards!

They should be higher than that douchbag. and then, right under that. Fuck. I don't mean that in a slut shaming way. I just mean.

The dots again. You hold your breath.

I just mean you should only be allowing someone who kisses the fucking ground you walk on to give you what you need. You deserve more than some quickie on a shitty dormbed. You deserve to be worshipped from head to toe. Every inch of you.

you don't know how to reply to that, so you don't.

it's the first night you touch yourself to the thought of your new friend, though.

#poppy speaks #the way him saying the word 'fuck' would completely alter my brain chemistry #art donaldson x reader

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tswiftupdatess · 7 months ago

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Taylor Swift talking about her song 'Florida!!!'

''Florida is a song I wrote with Florence + The Machine and I think I was coming up with this idea of what happens when your life doesn't fit, or your choices you've made catch up to you and you're surrounded by these harsh consequences and judgement and circumstances did not lead you to where you thought you would be and you just wanna escape from everything you've ever known, is there a place you could go? Haha, I'm always watching Dateline, people have these crimes that they commit where they immediately skip town and go to and they go to Florida. They try to reinvent themselves, have a new indetity, blend in. And I think when you go through a heartbreak there's a part of you that thinks 'I want a new name, I want a new life, I don't want anyone to know where I've been or know me at all.' So that was kind of what that was, the jumping off point behind 'Where would you go to reinvent yourself and blend in?' Florida!''

📸 Via shesjustlosingit on TikTok

#taylor swift #florida!!!#the tortured poets department #behind the song #taylorswift #ttpd

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edenesth · 8 months ago

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TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [2]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Go home, hyung, and think carefully about what I've said," Yunho insisted, ushering the dressmaker out of his clinic, "I really can't talk right now; I need to close up."

As Hongjoong made his way back to his shop, an internal struggle ensued between his mind and heart. His mind urged him to proceed with the job, reminding him he had no reason to be so troubled. Yet, his heart protested, insisting that it wasn't right. By going along with this, he would be complicit in someone's unhappiness.

Various scenarios played out in his mind as he imagined the aftermath of the makeover he was about to undertake. There was no doubt that you would attract attention from all directions, which wasn't the issue. He could picture potential suitors vying for your hand, but the thought unsettled him for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

By the end of the night, his rational side prevailed, leading him to choose to proceed with the job. He concluded that entrusting another dressmaker with your makeover was out of the question; after all, he was the best in all of Joseon. You said it yourself; what you liked or wanted did not matter. If you were willing to comply with your family's wishes, then who was he to object?

He chastised himself for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. Despite feeling bad for you, he reminded himself that you were simply another customer. He shouldn't allow himself to be so affected by matters that were none of his concern.

Over the next few days, he dedicated himself entirely to crafting the most exquisite hanbok. He meticulously coordinated every detail, ensuring it would meet the approval of your family. As he finalised the sketch of your ensemble, along with the hairstyle and makeup he envisioned for you, he couldn't help but notice the absence of a smile on his drawing of you. It dawned on him that he had never seen you smiling, not even once.

Although a part of him entertained the idea of coaching you to flash a killer smile, his heart twinged at the realisation that any smile he coaxed would be forced, "Snap out of it, you idiot!" he scolded himself, shaking off the unnecessary thoughts and redirecting his focus to other aspects of the design.

In the meantime, Hongjoong's name seemed to echo through your days ever since his arrival. Your family would lavish him with endless praise for his dedication to his craft, simultaneously lecturing you for not being more courteous toward him, for expecting him to seek you out without you bothering to greet him upon his arrival. If only they were aware of the cruel words he had uttered to you recently. Would they still support him so fervently? Perhaps they would side with him and reprimand you even further for not showing him enough appreciation.

"My dear, why not try being a bit more hospitable today and give Mr. Kim a little tour during his visit, hm?" your mother suggested during breakfast, her tone tinged with exasperation, "It's hard to believe he's already been here twice and has only seen the library and your quarters. Take him around the gardens, at least, will you?"

You pursed your lips, feeling a hint of irritation rising within you, though you didn't show it, "But mother, he's here to work. He's not a guest. Why should we extend such hospitality to him?" you muttered, taking another bite of your food.

Haeun scoffed in response, "Are you even listening to yourself? Mr. Kim is doing you a huge favour. He even closed his shop just to come here for you. The least you could do is show him some courtesy," your father and brother instantly agreeing with her.

Feeling frustrated, you decided to keep your mouth shut, realising that nothing you said would ever satisfy your family when they teamed up against you to highlight your supposed shortcomings.

This is dumb, he's getting paid anyway.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Baek! How kind of you to finally greet me and offer to take me on a tour!" the dressmaker exclaimed with raised brows as he was met with your blank stare while you stood waiting by the entrance of your family estate.

Shaking your head, you gestured for him to follow you, "Trust me, Mr. Kim, it's not my idea, and I dread this as much as you do. Please endure it for a bit for the sake of pleasing my family."

He blinked, trying not to let your bluntness affect him. He should know better than to be surprised by your straightforwardness by now. Nodding quickly, he rushed to catch up to you, already several steps ahead, apparently unconcerned whether he was following or not as you began the tour, "Right, my lady! Of course!"

Amused, he chuckled softly to himself at your bored expression as you walked past main areas like the living hall and dining hall before reaching places he recognised. Speaking in a monotone, you pointed out, "You've already seen these places. This is the library, and my quarters are just over there, but you already know that."

Turning to him, you furrowed your brows, "Is there anything funny?"

Biting his lip to suppress his laughter, he shook his head, "Not at all, Miss Baek. Please continue," he reassured, finding your reluctance somewhat endearing.

His eyes widened in wonder as you both arrived at what appeared to be a small play area for the children, "This is a mini playground my father had our servants create for his grandchildren," you explained, gesturing toward your nieces and nephews who were running around joyfully, their laughter echoing through the air. Glancing over at you, he noticed a hint of envy in your eyes, as if you longed to experience the simple happiness the children were enjoying.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and shook off the sentiment, "Well, let's move on to other areas then. I'm sure you don't have all day, Mr. Kim," you said briskly.

Without giving him a chance to reply, you headed off in another direction. He sighed before running after you again, silently cursing you for keeping him on the move. Yet, despite that, he couldn't find it in him to muster any irritation toward you. There was something about your behaviour that felt refreshing. For once, he appreciated being treated simply as another person, rather than being placed on a pedestal for all his accomplishments or appearance.

Arriving at your next location, you remarked rather sarcastically, "Of course, we can't forget the most crucial place in the entire estate, the kitchens," your voice hushed to avoid attracting attention from the busy maids for fear of disrupting their work.

Just as you were both about to leave, a burst of laughter echoed through the kitchen, accompanied by a blunt remark, "I bet the young miss will end up divorced early in her marriage, even if she miraculously finds a suitor after the makeover Mr. Kim gives her. She's an absolute nightmare! What sane man could tolerate her for long?"

Hongjoong felt his blood boil at the audacious words, growling under his breath, "How dare they—" He clenched his fists and took a step toward the door, seemingly ready to confront them.

Surprised by his reaction, you reached out and grasped his wrist, causing him to look down at your hold before meeting your gaze with a questioning expression. You sighed heavily, "Forget it, there's no point in doing whatever you intend to do. I'm already hard to like as it is, and I don't want them to dislike me even more than they already do. Let's just get out of here, Mr. Kim."

Feeling a pang in his chest, he couldn't shake off the aggravation that washed over him at the acceptance in your tone. The realisation that you were well aware of everyone's dislike towards you, yet you had resigned yourself to enduring it, stirred an unsettling mix of emotions within him. Just how long had you been suffering all this alone?

When he remained rooted in his spot, you squeezed his wrist and whispered, "Please, can we just go?"

With a defeated expression, he squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, "Fine, as you wish."

As you both left the kitchen behind, his mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Why wouldn't you stand up for yourself? And why wouldn't you let him be the one to defend you? It frustrated him to no end. He couldn't comprehend how someone as strong-willed as you could endure such treatment.

The weight of your silence hung heavy in the air, leaving him feeling helpless and conflicted. He wanted to reach out, to offer some form of solace or support, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead, he walked alongside you in silence, his mind racing with thoughts of how to help you.

Glancing at him, you could easily discern his struggle to contain his annoyance. But what you couldn't understand was why he seemed more bothered by it than you, especially considering his apparent dislike toward you. Eager to move past the incident, you decided to follow your mother's suggestion and led him to the gardens.

"I hope you like flowers, Mr. Kim," you offered as you strolled among the blooms, "These are some of my mother's proudest collections, gathered from other provinces."

Relief washed over you as he appeared to be distracted, showing genuine interest as he examined some of the rare flowers not typically found in this area.

Giving him a moment alone, you scanned the area, straining to hear a faint meowing. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted a cat stranded atop a tree. Without hesitation, you rushed forward, calling out, "Don't worry, kitty! I'll rescue you!" Your hands reached for the tree branch as you searched for a secure foothold to climb.

"Ooh, this one's pretty! Where did this come from?" he pondered aloud, his brow furrowing at the lack of response. Glancing up, he did a double take upon seeing you attempting to scale a tree.

Hastening over, he halted your ascent with a firm grip on your arm, "I turn away for one second and—have you lost your mind? What in god's name do you think you're doing?!"

Clicking your tongue in frustration, you pointed to the poor little distressed animal above, "Let me go. I'm going to save the cat, whether you like it or not."

The dressmaker sighed in exasperation, slapping a palm against his forehead as he observed the determination in your eyes. With a roll of his eyes, he relented, "Ugh, fine. Step aside, I'll do it."

You huffed, conceding to his offer, and relinquished your position. As he handed you the bag containing your latest hanbok, he rolled up his sleeves, muttering to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this," before proceeding to climb the tree with surprising agility. However, he soon realised the tree was taller than expected, and panic gripped him as he reached the top, letting out a startled yelp, "Oh my god, this tree is way taller than I thought!"

"Quit wasting time and save the cat!" you urged, frustration creeping into your voice. When he shot you a glare, you narrowed your eyes and challenged, "If you're so scared, get down here then! I'll do it!"

"No, no, no, don't you dare! What kind of man would I be to let you do it, huh? You stay put and wait down there," he insisted firmly, before reaching out tentatively for the frightened animal, "Come here, kitty. It's alright, just come to me and you'll be safe."

With bated breath, you observed as his hand shook pitifully. Slowly but surely, the animal inched closer to him, bit by bit, until it ended up snugly in his arms. A sigh of relief escaped you as he succeeded. Holding the rescued feline close to his chest, he carefully made his way back down.

As soon as he handed the cat over to you, his legs gave out, and he sank onto the ground. His face was blank, as if he were still trying to process what he had just done. The last thing he expected when coming here today was to do something like this.

Seeing his defeated posture, unlike his usual composed demeanour, you couldn't help but let a smile sneak onto your face, eventually bursting into a fit of giggles as you replayed the scene in your head. At the sound, he glanced up, captivated by the melody of your laughter. Frozen in place, his heart skipped a beat as he beheld your smile for the first time, genuine happiness lighting up your features. At that moment, he realised your beauty, wanting nothing more than to see that smile more often.

How pretty.

Since that day, both of you appeared to have grown more at ease with each other. He abandoned the formalities, as you urged, and shed the false pleasantries. Finally, he felt comfortable enough to be his true self around you, letting his unfiltered thoughts flow freely and speaking his mind without reservation. You didn't seem to mind, especially since he hadn't intended any offence with his words.

While you wouldn't go as far as calling yourselves friends, there was a comfort in each other's presence that had developed. Even in moments of silence, there was never any awkwardness, only an unspoken understanding between you, a connection that required no verbal declaration; you simply understood each other.

Over Hongjoong's recent visits, a routine had formed. You would courteously greet him at the entrance before guiding him to your quarters. There, he would assist you in trying on the hanboks he had crafted, ensuring they fit perfectly and required no further alterations. He would experiment with different makeup and hairstyles, exploring which suited you best.

After weeks of diligent work to assemble the perfect ensemble for you, today marked the culmination of his efforts—the day he would finally unveil your complete makeover. With an array of hanboks he had brought from his previous visits, they were sufficient to constitute an entirely new wardrobe for you. This was the moment your family had eagerly anticipated, the outcome they had engaged the dressmaker for. He observed you scrutinise the items he had meticulously prepared, your expression unreadable.

"Are you ready, Miss Baek?" he inquired.

You shot him a look that seemed to convey 'are you kidding me', your lips pursed, "Does it matter? Just do what you have to, Kim."

With a nod, he began with your hair and makeup, his heart quickening with every movement under the weight of your attentive gaze, fixated on his handsome features. Unbeknownst to him, you held your breath whenever he moved a little closer to perfect your eye makeup. Cursing himself, he attempted to steady his trembling hands as he moved on to your lips, "Could you please look away or close your eyes?" he requested.

"Why?" you inquired, devoid of any jest.

He sighed, "Look, it's... it's distracting, okay? I find it hard to concentrate when you're watching me so intently."

Rolling your eyes, you acquiesced and closed your eyes, "And you claim to be a professional," you remarked.

For once, he lacked the energy to retort, his heart dancing with sensations he had never experienced before. Despite having applied makeup for countless women, he had never encountered such a physical reaction. Puzzled, he struggled to understand the inexplicable effect you seemed to have on him and his poor heart.

"Everything's finished, except for putting on the hanbok," he announced, placing his tools aside before excusing himself momentarily as your maids began assisting you with one of the most elaborate hanboks he had produced. Stepping outside your quarters, he was taken aback to see your entire family assembled and waiting. Bowing respectfully, he greeted them, "Ah, you've all arrived right on time. Miss Baek is almost prepared."

Hajoon stepped forward, extending his hand to shake the dressmaker's, "With your assistance, I'm certain she'll look stunning. Thank you so much for your dedication, Mr. Kim," your parents chimed in, expressing their gratitude for his hard work.

Suddenly, the attention shifted as one of your nephews pointed towards the entrance of your room, exclaiming, "Look, a princess!" All eyes turned to catch a glimpse of you.

A chorus of gasps escaped from your family members as they beheld the sight before them. Your family was overcome with awe, your mother and sister shedding tears of joy as if you had finally fulfilled their deepest wishes. Turning around, Hongjoong's breath caught in his throat as he took in your completed transformation for the first time, mirroring the astonishment of everyone else. You appeared breathtaking, meeting society's standards of perfection and seamlessly fitting into their expectations. Yet, the absence of joy in your expression failed to bring him satisfaction.

She's not happy.

In truth, a foolish part of him clung to the hope that you might still be impressed by your transformation once you had seen your beauty, despite knowing your reservations. He harboured a fleeting expectation that your initial reluctance stemmed from never seeing yourself adorned in such finery before, and that your perspective would shift upon witnessing your present appearance. But he knew he was wrong as soon as he observed your evident discomfort, your fingers clutching the hanbok's skirt tightly, your gaze averted while your family showered you with adoration.

Confusion enveloped him at that moment. He should have felt elated that his vision had come to fruition; your family's satisfaction with his work signalled the success of his mission. However, instead of joy, remorse consumed him; your family's praises fell on deaf ears, and all he could see was the despair in your hunched shoulders.

"Mr. Kim, this is utter perfection! You've truly outdone yourself! Please join us for dinner tonight before you leave! It's the least we can do for all the work you've put in over the past few weeks!" your father invited, excitement evident in his tone.

Normally, he would reject such offers, but he realised he wasn't ready to leave you just yet. With only you in mind, Hongjoong accepted, "It would be my pleasure, Official Baek."

Seated beside you in the dining hall that night, the dressmaker did his best to engage with your family members. However, his attention kept drifting back to you, noticing your silence as you picked at your food, showing little appetite. He grew concerned seeing you repeatedly reach for the wine glass, drinking more than eating. Haeun's disapproving glare didn't escape his notice.

"That's enough, maknae. No man likes a drunkard for a wife. With your enhanced looks, you'll be attracting a suitor real soon. Now's the time for you to start training to be a proper lady," she scolded.

Hajoon chortled, "Let her. Perhaps she'll be a better wife when drunk. That version of her might be more tolerable than her usual self."

To Hongjoong's dismay, your sister and parents joined in the laughter, despite your brother-in-law and sister-in-law exchanging apologetic glances in your direction. At that moment, he lost his appetite completely as he watched you quietly enduring it all, much like when the maids made fun of you.

Before he could inquire if you were okay, your father addressed him, "Mr. Kim, we apologise on our youngest's behalf for any trouble she may have caused you. Surely, she couldn't have been easy to work with. We will compensate you nicely for all your efforts."

Wanting to use the opportunity to stand up for you, he plastered on his most professional smile and spoke, "Not at all, my lord. Miss Baek has been an absolute pleasure to work with. She's remarkably selfless, unlike many customers who approach me solely for superficial reasons. Despite her reservations about fashion, she wholeheartedly complies for her family's sake. And I deeply respect her for that. The opportunity to make her clothing is reward enough for me. I consider myself fortunate to have such a client."

His response surprised everyone, including you, with its sincerity and absence of flattery or deceit. Your mother blinked, ashamed of herself for laughing moments ago, "Oh, that's reassuring to hear. Perhaps we should give her more credit for her efforts."

The atmosphere turned slightly awkward after the dressmaker's indirect words, making it clear he disapproved of their conversation about you. It seemed as though his remarks had prompted them to reflect on their behaviour, recognising the cruelty of mocking their own family member. Despite your usual straightforwardness, they understood that you truly never meant to hurt anyone's feelings. Guilt washed over them as they realised their earlier actions had been intentional and hurtful.

Absorbing the aftermath of Hongjoong's defence of you, a surge of emotion welled up inside you. His words resonated deeply, touching a part of you that had longed for such validation. No one had ever stood up for you in such a manner, not even your own family, who were supposed to be your closest allies. To hear someone speak so kindly of you, with genuine sincerity, was a rare and precious gift.

Looking up at him, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Perhaps, in that moment, he had become more than just a dressmaker to you. Maybe, without him even realising it, he had earned the title of friend.

As he gently confiscated the wine glass from your hand and replenished your bowl with food, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips. His gesture felt like a moment of genuine concern that warmed your heart. Whether or not he realised it, he was showing you a level of care you hadn't experienced before, and it felt comforting to be treated with such thoughtfulness.

"Stop drinking so much and eat more, my lady. You'll be sick if you keep up like that," he lectured with a soft grin.

You wondered if this was his way of showing that he cared. Regardless, it felt nice to be looked after, to have someone pay attention to your well-being in such a simple yet meaningful way. As you took a bite of the food he had placed before you, a sense of gratitude washed over you, grateful for his unexpected kindness in a world that had often felt cold and indifferent.

After the meal, he said his farewells to your family but insisted on walking you back to your quarters before departing. Upon reaching your room entrance, you turned to him, saying, "Well, I'm here safe now. You can leave, Mr. Kim."

He scoffed lightly, "Would it hurt to have a little chat before I go?"

Taking a seat on the short staircase leading to your room, he patted the space beside him, gesturing for you to join him, "Come on. I don't know when I'll see you again after this. Let's just... talk."

Your heart felt uneasy at the reminder that today marked the grand finale, and with it over, his job here was considered done. He would have no reason to visit your family estate unless summoned. Reluctantly, you settled down beside him on the step.

Despite his desire to converse, there was a moment of silence as you both pondered what to say. The ambience was filled with the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze as you sat side by side, your shoulders lightly touching. Mustering his courage, he finally broached the subject, "Be honest with me, Miss Baek. Do you hate my designs? I've noticed your unease since you put them on."

Gazing down at the vibrant hanbok adorning your frame, feeling the weight of the accessories on your head and the unfamiliar thickness of the makeup on your usually bare face, you let out a sigh, "I don't hate them. It's just... honestly, I don't feel worthy of such finery. They're undeniably beautiful, but they don't resonate with who I am. And if this is what it takes to attract a husband, I can't help but wonder... what good is a man who would only value me for my looks? What kind of marriage would that be? The maids had a point. Any man fooled by this appearance would likely end up divorcing me."

Frowning, he turned to you, seeing the rare display of emotion as your eyes glistened with tears, "That's not true, why would you think you're unworthy?" he questioned, genuine concern evident in his voice. Though he wanted to agree that a man like that did not deserve to be with you, he opted to address what truly mattered.

You let out a humourless chuckle, a sound that tugged at his heartstrings. It was unlike you to expose your vulnerabilities in such a manner. Perhaps it was the comfort of Hongjoong's presence or the effects of the alcohol. Or maybe it was a combination of both. You shut your eyes as your world began to spin, whispering, "I've never been good enough for anything or anyone. My parents made that abundantly clear since I was a child. Nobody has ever truly liked me, and don't pretend otherwise, I know you disliked me too. I just... I'm so tired. I want to be loved for who I am. Is that too much to ask...?"

It really isn't, my lady. I'm right here.

Your voice trailed off, a tear tracing down your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder, succumbing to exhaustion. His heart ached as he hesitated, then gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Once he was certain you were truly asleep, he carefully slid his other arm beneath your legs and carried you into your room.

The dressmaker felt as if his life hadn't been the same since taking on that job. It had been nearly a week since he last saw you, the image of your tear-stained sleeping face lingering in his mind as he tucked you into bed. A heavy weight settled in his heart as he silently bid you farewell that night, making his way home with a sense of numbness.

Every day after that felt unsettling.

The initial satisfaction he anticipated from accepting your sister's job offer eluded him. Thoughts of you consumed his mind relentlessly. He wondered about your well-being—whether you were eating properly, sleeping soundly, finding happiness. Despite his yearning to see you again, even just a glimpse to ensure you were okay, he knew he had no reason to visit the Baek estate. The job was completed, and he had received his payment in full. Alongside the surge in his reputation, he had earned widespread recognition for transforming the once pitiful youngest Miss Baek into the stunning beauty you are today.

Consequently, his business flourished. Recognising his inability to change the situation, he threw himself into his work, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Day after day, he laboured tirelessly in his shop, his pockets filling up, yet his heart growing emptier with each passing moment.

"Huh, who would've thought this day would come? It seems someone could rob you in broad daylight, and you wouldn't even notice," the sudden familiar deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he found Seonghwa standing right beside his work desk, "What's up with you, Kim Hongjoong? Need a break?"

"I told you, he's been acting all weird since he completed the Baek family's job," Wooyoung chimed in, appearing behind the general.

The dressmaker blinked, "Wh-what are you two idiots doing here?"

Seonghwa scoffed, "Oh wow, is that really the way to greet your friends who care enough to come check on you?"

Flustered, Hongjoong cleared his throat and returned to work, "Why do you have to check on me? I'm doing just fine."

"Are you really? That's not what Yunho told us. It sounds like someone's finally having girl problems," the investigator retorted.

The general grinned, "You know, for someone who gives so much relationship advice, you're rather terrible with matters of the heart when it comes to yourself."

With a sigh, the dressmaker rolled his eyes, "I don't have any problems. You two should worry about yourselves instead. Haven't you heard? Taken men have more issues than single lads like myself." The two had been exceptionally insufferable ever since the younger man had also begun courting his precious Miss Han, always borderline making fun of the rest for still being single.

"Really? So you're not bothered that Miss Baek has finally found a suitor?" Wooyoung teased. At that, Hongjoong dropped the pencil in his hand, head snapping up with wide eyes, "What did you say?"

His friends exchanged knowing grins before the younger one repeated, "I said, the youngest miss of the Baek family has finally found a suitor. The eldest son of the Yoon family has asked for her hand in marriage."

The dressmaker felt his heart drop, "The Yoon family...? Aren't they the ones on the verge of bankruptcy?"

Seonghwa nodded, "That's correct. I guess they must be taking the opportunity to forge a union with the Baek family to save themselves financially. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad now that the youngest miss is finally pretty enough to marry."

"Don't you dare say that about her; she's perfect the way she was. Her appearance doesn't define her," Hongjoong growled, glowering at his friend for the first time.

Rather than reacting negatively, his friends applauded his response, the older man smirking, "Congratulations, you're in love."

"I'm not—"

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation, "Listen, it doesn't matter to us whether you think you're in love or not. But if you aren't, I suppose it wouldn't matter that today is the day the Baek and Yoon families formalise the engagement. Do what you will with that information; we have a double date to enjoy."

At that moment, he came to the realisation that what he had been feeling all along was love. Looking back, he should have recognised the signs from the very beginning; despite his irritation with you, genuine anger never surfaced. The incessant thoughts of you had been consuming every moment of his life, a clear indicator in hindsight. Yet, he couldn't fathom why he had persisted in denying it. It was evident that he wasn't fooling anyone except himself.

The dressmaker's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he watched his friends leave his shop, "W-wait!" he called out, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, "Thanks, guys. I appreciate the help."

With a playful wink, the general teased, "Atta boy, go get your girl. I'm looking forward to making it a triple date next time."

God, I sure hope she feels the same.

Meanwhile, you wandered through the gardens of your estate, accompanied by Byungho, the eldest son of the Yoon family and your soon-to-be fiancé, a sense of unease lingered within you. The suddenness of his proposal, along with his family's involvement, left you in a state of shock. While you had anticipated attracting suitors after your makeover, you hadn't expected everything to unfold in less than a week. Despite Byungho's outward appearance of kindness, you didn't know how to feel about spending the rest of your life with him.

Besides, you weren't entirely clueless.

You'd heard all the rumours circulating about his family's financial troubles, stemming from a failed business venture that had left them on the brink of bankruptcy. You understood that his proposal wasn't solely motivated by your newfound beauty; rather, you were seen as a solution to his family's predicament. And since he was still unmarried, it would be like killing two birds with one stone.

Even as you walked alongside the man who was supposed to be your future husband, your thoughts were consumed by a certain dressmaker. Amidst the familiar scenery of the garden, memories of your shared moments played on a loop in your mind.

Like the cat you had rescued and set free, you couldn't help but wonder about both of them—the stray animal and its saviour. Did he ever think of you, even fleetingly? The maids had recounted the events of your final night with him; how he had carried you back to your room and tucked you in with care. You regretted being influenced by alcohol, wishing you had bid him a proper farewell.

Now, you knew you would never see him again—the first person to show you genuine kindness despite a rocky start, the first to truly care, the first you had considered a friend... and perhaps more.

I miss you, Kim Hongjoong.

Little did you know, he stood just outside the entrance to your family estate, struggling to catch his breath. He pleaded with the guards stationed at the gate, conveying the urgency of his situation, "Please, I left behind a crucial tool that I need to retrieve."

"We apologise, Mr. Kim, but the Baek family is hosting important guests today, and we cannot permit entry to outsiders without a valid reason. Perhaps you could return tomorrow," the guard explained respectfully, bowing his head in apology.

As he regained his composure, a sense of desperation gripped him. He knew exactly who those guests were and the purpose of their visit. He couldn't afford to wait until tomorrow; he had to be there to stop it all now. However, he couldn't reveal the true reason to the guards, fearing it would only lead to his expulsion from the premises.

Summoning his typically fearless demeanour, he planted his hands on his hips and fixed the guard with an unamused stare, "Listen, I have a significant client waiting on her hanbok for tomorrow. If I lose her business because of this delay, will you take responsibility for my losses? I doubt your salary could cover the cost. So, soldier, are you prepared to shoulder that burden?"

The guard swallowed nervously, "I-I..."

Rolling his eyes, Hongjoong pressed on, "All I need is a moment to retrieve my belongings. What harm could my brief presence possibly cause? Do you think the guests will be bothered by a mere dressmaker dropping by to pick up his things?"

Lord forgive me for deceiving this poor man.

Finally relenting, the guard stepped aside, "I suppose you have a point, sir. My apologies."

As soon as he was out of the guard's line of sight, he moved stealthily like a spy. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself and face a barrage of questions. His heart raced in his chest as he scanned every corner frantically in search of you. Inside, the living hall buzzed with activity, hosting both your family and the Yoons. However, you and the eldest Yoon son were conspicuously absent. Panic and protectiveness surged within him at the thought of you being alone with another man.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he discovered your quarters were vacant. The mere thought of finding you with another man in your room made his stomach churn with jealousy. Passing by the library, he was once again grateful to find it deserted. These were sacred spaces shared only between the two of you, and he refused to let anyone else intrude upon them.

Finally, a sense of calm settled over him when he spotted you in the garden with your prospective betrothed. Taking cover behind a nearby tree, he strained to eavesdrop on your conversation while contemplating his next move. Walking up to you and blurting out his feelings like a madman seemed out of the question. Not only would it be reckless, but he also had to consider what your family would think of him if he acted so impulsively.

He needed to devise a careful plan of action.

Perking up, his attention sharpened as he heard the eldest Yoon son's words to you, "My lady, we've been here for a while. Would you perhaps like to have some tea in a more... secluded spot?"

Hongjoong's blood ran cold at the suggestion, his fists tightening involuntarily until he heard your firm response, "I'm not in the mood for tea, Byungho. If you want some, feel free to go ahead and enjoy it yourself. I'll be right here." A surge of pride swelled within him at your characteristic straightforwardness.

That's my girl, you tell him.

A tense silence hung in the air before Byungho's frustration reached its boiling point, "Enough of this, I've had it with you," he burst out, "Do you honestly believe that just because you've become more attractive, you're suddenly something special? Do you know what men outside are saying about you? Sure, you finally look pretty enough to marry, but they would have considered you if only you were a couple of years younger. Take a good look at yourself in the mirror, you're old. Be grateful I'm willing to marry you. You have no right to be playing Ice Princess with me right now, you hear me?"

The dressmaker's blood boiled as he listened to Byungho's disrespectful tirade against you. Unable to contain his anger any longer, he emerged from his hiding spot and strode purposefully toward the two of you.

"Look who's talking," he interjected, his voice laced with fury, "If she's so undesirable, why the hell are you and your family here begging to have her hand in marriage?" He narrowed his eyes at the bastard, his words dripping with disdain, "Look at yourself, Yoon Byungho. You're going broke and are relying on a woman to save yourself. I don't think you should be the one to talk."

Byungho's face turned red with anger as he shot back, "Who the hell do you think you are? Wait a minute, I know you. Aren't you just a lowly dressmaker? You have no right to speak to me like that."

But Hongjoong stood his ground, undeterred by Byungho's attempts to intimidate him, "I may be a dressmaker, but at least I have the decency to respect others," he retorted, "Unlike you, who seems to think you can treat people however you please just because of your family name. Would you prefer to back off on your own, or would you like me to repeat your earlier words to Official and Lady Baek word for word? Do you reckon they'd still want such a son-in-law?"

As the tension between them escalated, you watched in shock, unsure of what to make of the confrontation unfolding before you.

You didn't know how to react when Byungho scoffed in disbelief, "Whatever, I can't stand her anyway," he said before turning to you, "And you, don't come crying to me when you can't find someone to marry."

"Oh, don't you worry, she won't," the dressmaker sneered, watching the despicable man huff and stalk off.

Still in a state of shock, you blinked rapidly, trying to process Hongjoong's sudden appearance and his unexpected action in ending your engagement so abruptly, "M-Mr. Kim...? What have you done?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, "What have I done? More like, what are you doing, woman?" he retorted.

"I haven't done anything," you fought back.

"Exactly! Were you really just going to marry that douche of a man if I hadn't shown up? Even after he said those things to you? Don't you want to be happy?" he questioned.

Massaging your temples, you struggled to understand his point, "I don't get it, Mr. Kim. What are you trying to say? You know better than anyone my happiness never mattered."

He ignored your question, "Of course, it matters! And what the hell are you wearing?!"

Confused, you looked down at the hanbok you were wearing, one of his designs, "What do you mean? This is your—"

"Only wear what you want and do what you want! Why should you be so unhappy? This is your life!" he interrupted, frustrated.

Exasperated, you sighed, "In case you haven't been paying attention, no man will ever want me if I were to—"

He cut you off, gripping your shoulders firmly as he looked into your eyes, "I do! I want to be with you, okay? Your happiness matters to me more than anything else!" he declared before bravely pulling you into his arms. He felt like he could finally breathe again when you lifted your arms to hug him back.

A week had passed since that pivotal moment, and it was remarkable how one single moment could alter the course of your life. Hongjoong's unexpected intervention had changed everything. Byungho's decision to call off the engagement had left both families in shock, particularly his own, given their desperate need for financial assistance. The bastard was more keen to preserve his reputation, fearful of the repercussions of his outburst towards you. Strangely, your family seemed somewhat relieved by the turn of events, although the reasons behind their reaction remained unclear.

Eventually, it became clear when the dressmaker approached them, seeking permission to court you. The knowing grins exchanged among your family members answered your unspoken questions.

Haeun's laughter, unexpected to both you and Hongjoong, was joined by Hajoon's, "I knew it! I knew there was something between you two! Your actions spoke volumes, Mr. Kim, especially your protectiveness towards her that night. We've been waiting for you to realise it."

Your parents nodded, "You have our blessing, Mr. Kim. So long as our youngest is happy. But ultimately, it's her consent that truly matters. You should ask her if she's willing."

The dressmaker hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached for your hand, "I did ask her..." His nerves eased when you willingly intertwined your fingers with his, "And she said yes."

And ever since that moment, he hadn't let you go for long, always claiming to miss you. Though you were too shy to admit it aloud, you felt the same. Now, as you stroll along the bustling streets of town for the first time in what feels like forever, his hand securely holding yours, he shows you around, "Come on, beautiful. There's still so much to see."

He slowed his pace, noticing the slightly overwhelmed expression on your face, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "Are you feeling alright, darling?" he asked, scanning the surroundings, wondering if you were perhaps feeling insecure due to any stares, "Is it the hanbok? I promise I'll make an even simpler version next time."

You shook your head immediately, "What? No! I like this, Joong, I really do," you said, smiling down at the simple yet elegant pastel-coloured fabric he had picked especially for you. He had replaced all the previous ones he made for you with a new batch of minimalistic hanboks you'd prefer.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he persisted, "Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything."

You chuckled softly, and he felt a flutter in his chest at the sight of your beautiful smile, "Of course, you know I can't lie to save my life."

His laughter echoed with realisation, "That's true, how could I forget?"

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you leaned your head against his shoulder, your favourite spot, "I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

You blushed, "About us."

As you reached a serene little bridge spanning over a gentle river, you both paused to admire the tranquil scene below, leaning against the ledge side by side, "What about us?" he asked.

Turning to meet his gaze, you softened, "I just find it amusing how we ended up like this, together. I recall how much you couldn't stand me when we first met, and I thought I'd never see you again once the makeover was done. Yet... here you are."

He grinned warmly, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, "Here I am, my darling. I was an idiot then, but I have no intention of ever leaving your side again."

Your heart brimmed with joy, a sensation you never thought you'd have the pleasure of experiencing. Similarly, Hongjoong felt a sense of pride as he observed you gradually opening up, becoming more at ease in expressing your emotions around him. He was proud of the progress you had made.

Caught up in the moment, he summoned the courage to finally kiss you. Truth be told, he had been searching for the right moment to share your first kiss but wanted to respect your boundaries. He knew you must have been new to all this, and to be fair, he wasn't much more experienced than you. While he had seen many couples throughout his life and displays of affection were nothing new to him, he lacked firsthand experience. He often wondered when would be the right time to take such a step.

Sensing his gaze fixed on your lips, your breath caught in your throat. Was the moment finally here? Were you about to share your first kiss? You closed your eyes instinctively as he leaned in, taking it as his cue to press his lips against yours.

Here goes nothing.

As your lips met, a rush of euphoria swept through him when he felt you kissing him back softly, enjoying the sensation of your lips on his. Slowly pulling back, you both broke into shy smiles, "That felt nice," he said, and you nodded in agreement, "It really did." Just as he leaned down again, intent on kissing you once more, you were both snapped out of your trance by the sound of a child yelling for help.

Reaching for his hand, you immediately pulled him towards the source of the commotion, only to find a little girl pointing to the top of a tree, "Help, please, somebody help my poor little kitty!"

You couldn't help but burst into giggles at the familiar scene as Hongjoong shook his head, "Nope, absolutely not. Someone else can help her," Pouting, you tugged at his arm, "Please, Joong? We have to help the poor thing! I'll give you a kiss when you do."

His jaw dropped before determination filled his being, "You know what? Deal. You best not go back on your words, woman."

Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the tree with a shake of his head in disbelief, "Goodness, the things I do for her," he muttered. But as he glanced back and saw the beautiful smile on your face, he realised he would be willing to save a thousand, no—a million more cats if that's what it takes to make you smile like that every day.

Anything to make you happy, darling.

If you haven't already read the first bonus chapter of TWTHH, please do so soon! I'll be working on the second bonus chapter after this hehe also, I hope you're all excited for Yunho's spinoff next!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/8): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 @naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to this heart #stitched hearts #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #historical au #joseon era #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez fic

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satorusluver · 1 year ago

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Prince!Gojo x maid!reader

Minors DNI

I know I mentioned Prince Gojo x arranged fiancé reader but now I am also thinking about Prince Gojo x maid reader.

Tags/warnings: unprotected sex, creampie

Prince Satoru Gojo, who first saw you years ago when you joined his mother's household when you were both teenagers and had an instant attraction to you. You're not even a lady-in-waiting who serves the queen, they're at least noblewomen. You're a servant to a lady-in-waiting, far far below the Crown Prince in ranking, but do you think that's gonna stop Satoru? Hell no. Not when you're the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on.

It took him years to actually speak more than a few sentences to you though, not because you're so below him, but because you're so ethereal, so beautiful and pure that he didn''t want to corrupt you with the sinful thoughts he has of you. But once the spark between the two of you became apparent, nothing could stop it from blazing, his better judgement and the social hierarchy be damned.

You think he's thinking about any of that when he's balls deep in your soft, velvety cunt? When he's feeling your legs wrapped around his waist and your hot breath panting in his ear, and hearing you whimper his name, his real name, and not "my prince" or "your highness" or "Crown Prince Satoru"? Because here, in this room away from prying eyes, he's just Satoru -your Satoru.

And no, you didn't expect friendly conversations and harmless flirtations and maybe a few stolen kisses to so quickly evolve into Satoru bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips and rutting into you against the wall of an empty room during the few short minutes before he has high tea and you have to return to washing the windows. His pace is hard and fast due to the lack of time, and it makes your eyes water and your toes curl each time his thick cockhead rams against your sweet spot and causes you to see stars and dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from crying out loud enough for someone outside the room to hear.

And yes, you know it's a terrible idea. That you should have saved your maidenhood for your future husband. That you're risking everything, your honor and your future, when you feel those ropes of royal seed spurting against your cervix and into your womb and very possibly putting a bastard in your belly.

But how could you have possibly said no to the handsome Crown Prince and those captivating blue eyes that look at you like you're something wonderful, something precious, something more than a servant who scrubs floors and empties chamber pots? When he's kissing the side of your face so sweetly and gasping out a declaration of love as he's fucking that royal seed back into you?

You can't bring yourself to regret it, even when you're soon back to washing down the windows outside of the room where Satoru is now dining with his family, sipping tea from cups expensive enough to keep you fed for an entire year. Not even when you feel that familiar trickle of his seed spilling out of you and pooling in your undergarments, and see those same blue eyes now momentarily flicker over to you with an utterly blank expression that betrays no recognition whatsoever.

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rahuratna · 6 months ago

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Nanami Kento: Relationship headcanons

Content: pre-relationship headcanons, introvert reader, pining.

ღ The first meeting isn't reminiscent of any kind of whirlwind romance. You meet him through work or, possibly, through the same leisure spaces that you both frequent; a particular cafe, or maybe a bookstore. You take note of him, but wouldn't dream of casually approaching someone with his demeanour.

ღ Your conversations start with pleasant formality, pleasant on your part, at least. His tone is always clipped and professional, his voice beautiful to listen to, but carefully controlled. His body language seems closed off and his eyes are always concealed behind those glasses.

ღ You may start to gradually take note of him more often. Not because you're struck by his handsome appearance (Nanami is too reserved and understated in everything he does to represent the romantic hero). It's more a case of seeing him, where you didn't take notice of him before. Strange. He must have been around for a long time.

ღ You may learn his name and profession (true profession, since you are an affiliate of Jujutsu Tech). The information you learn doesn't provide much substance. His sorcerer grade, working schedule, career history and areas of operation don't tell you about him. And, you confess, there is something about him that does draw your curiosity.

ღ You finally muster the courage to speak to him more often. The first few conversations go much the same way as the first. There are exchanges of greetings and he then seems satisfied with silence. You find, surprisingly, that his silences are neither judgemental, nor awkward. He merely exists in the space beside you, and that's all right.

ღ Space. You find yourself in his space more often than not. Are you doing this on purpose? Is it really an unconscious desire that draws you to the places where you know he may be? You don't know. But you can sit in the break room and read comfortably with him there. You can eat your lunch in his presence with ease and feel good in the knowledge that he appreciates his food as much as you do. You can do a crossword, after a long day, while waiting for the next shift to start, and you may feel his eyes tracking your pencil as it moves across the page.

ღ The first time he initiates conversation with you, it surprises you, but you're accustomed to his presence by now. And so, your interaction with him is easy, flowing into a soft rhythm that ebbs and flows as you two occupy space together and talk about many things that come into your minds.

ღ And it is now, when you're this close to him, when you can feel the fabric of his sleeve brush against yours, when you can smell the clean, simple scent of his cologne, when his voice dips slightly in amusement (had it ever done that before?), when he takes off his glasses and polishes them with a small cloth and then looks up to meet your gaze, hazel eyes softer in their glance than you expected, it's now that you realise that you're hopelessly attracted to this man.

ღ Change sometimes comes as softly as the dawn, stealing over the lip of your balcony. A fitting comparison, since you now think of him every morning and wonder if he had woken up on time, whether he had cut himself shaving, whether his toast was perfectly done or his coffee piping hot, whether he'd knotted his tie in a rush or taken the time to watch the sun rise, like you have. You think of him on the way to work and wonder if he has a particularly difficult mission lined up today.

ღ You know enough about this line of work to pull your thoughts away from the idea of injury or death. He had chosen this line of work. You've learned enough about him by now to know that he wouldn't take the responsibility lightly, nor would he be reckless in terms of the risks.

ღ It may also be the reason that you decide to hold this feeling, cradled like a delicate flame, intimately and secretly close inside you. This traitorous little flame that threatens to betray you, through the softness in your eyes when you see him, in the ready warmth of your smile when you share the break room, in the new unsteadiness of your hand when his gaze follows the progress of your incomplete crossword.

@tsukimefuku @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls @g-kleran

#fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami headcanons #are these headcanons or a fic?#I DON'T KNOW #jjk #jjk fic #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #jjk fluff

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jenosbigtoe · 1 year ago

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na jaemin x catgirl!reader (M)

minors dni

summary: jaemin finds a stray catgirl and takes her under his wing.

warnings: hybrid au. lots of fluff :3, bratty!reader, dom!jaemin, big dick nana, loss of virginity, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, mild squirting, kitty eating (lmao), fingering, fellatio, praise kink

word count: 6.0k

a/n: jaemin is the biggest cat person i know (besides me duh) so why wouldn’t i write a fic about him being down bad for his lil catgirl?

jesus fuck this was long and took forever 😪 sorry it's posted later than promised but at least it's longer than my last two fics combined! lmk if you want to see more of jaem and his catgirl bc im really liking this au

“fuck this shit man.” jaemin was so sick of his boring ass 9-5 office job. every single day he deals with incompetent coworkers (how did they even graduate high school), entitled clients, and a shitty boss that wanted to put all the work on him because he knew jaemin was a good employee.

jaemin took out a pack of newports and lit a cigarette, leaning his head back against the alleyway wall and sighing in frustration. the cold winter air bit at his nose but he didn’t care. this was his one time to really relax right after work. as he was taking a long drag, a rustle from the dark alley caught his attention.

he paused. “who’s there?” jaemin squinted his eyes against the pitch black darkness. this was a shady part of town and jaemin knew better than to be hiding out in the back alleyway of a sketchy convenience store but he also had a reputation to hold up. couldn’t have anyone from his work or person life finding out the social butterfly nana was a chainsmoker and hated his life.

against his better judgement, he put out the lit cigarette and moved closer to the rustling noise. turning his phone flashlight on, he didn’t know what he’d expect to see. maybe a raccoon or a stray dog.

he certainly didn’t expect to see the sweetest little thing hiding and shivering under a dirty cardboard box. there you were, hair matted, skin covered in grime, thin clothes in tatters, brown ears pressed flat against your head. and despite your disheveled appearance, jaemin thought you were just the cutest thing he’s ever seen. as his phone flash shined directly on you, you jumped in fright, body immediately tensing up in alarm. you bared your teeth at him and hissed, claws extended.

“woah hey i’m not gonna hurt you,” jaemin back away slowly, putting his hands up.

“fuck off,” you gritted at him, sharp teeth still showing.

“what are you doing out here like this? it’s freezing and you don’t have any clothes. where’s your owner?” jaemin crouched to the ground, trying to inch closer to you but you tucked yourself smaller into the corner.

“don’t have an owner. don’t need one. m perfectly fine by myself. now leave me alone, human,” you growled at him.

jaemin attempted to reach a hand out to you but you swatted at him and hissed, leaving a small gash on his hand.

“do you have a name, kitty?” jaemin asked softly.

you continued to glare at him. “leave me alone.”

jaemin knew it would be really difficult to get you to open up but he had such a soft spot for animals, especially strays. and he couldn’t just leave you alone looking like this in the winter cold.

“kitty, it’s way too cold out for you to be here without any proper clothes.” jaemin stated. “my name is na jaemin and i only want to help you, okay?”

your body was still tensed in suspension of this stranger but as he continued to get closer to you, you got a whiff of his scent. nose scrunched up cutely, you sniffed up at the air, needing more of that delicious scent. god he smelled so so good. despite the bitter cold of the winter air, the scent of this stranger left your body feeling warm and fuzzy inside, slowly melting your tough exterior. but he was still a stranger, one you had no idea the intentions of, and you didn’t want to take any risks.

“stop patronizing me and just leave me alone, stupid human.” the longer you were around him, the less alarmed your body felt, but you still kept your guard up around this delicious smelling stranger. and jaemin didn’t miss how your body language slowly got less tense the longer you were around him.

jaemin got up slowly, deep in thought. “i’ll be right back, kitty.”

he disappeared around the corner of the alley again, leaving you feeling slightly empty. stupid, you thought. he’s just a stranger. of course he’d leave like everyone else. you knew that rationally but your body was acting so weird around this stranger.

you continued to sit there, huddled beneath the cardboard and desperately seeking warm, when the stranger came back, this time with a steaming cup and a hotdog.

“here, baby,” jaemin cooed at you, handing you the cup of hot chocolate and hotdog. for some reason, your belly felt so warm at his calling you baby. “you must be so hungry.”

you eyed the food suspiciously. “why are you being so nice to me, human? you don’t even know me. you don’t even know my name.”

“doesn’t matter to me. nobody, hybrid or human or animal, deserves to be shivering in the winter cold like this,” jaemin stated with a serious look on his face.

you cautiously grabbed the food and drink from his hand before scarfing down the hotdog in record time and chugging the hot chocolate, some cutely dripping down your chin. your brown ears twitched in happiness. god jaemin thought you were just the cutest thing.

“y/n. it’s y/n,” you mumbled at him. “thank you for the food.”

“y/n, such a cute name for the cutest kitty,” jaemin smiled brightly.

he reached one hand out slowly to brush your hair out of your face. you just about jumped at the contact, but as he scratched that sweet spot behind your ears, your tail swished in happiness and you started to pur in delight. you closed your eyes in bliss and leaned slightly into the contact.

“good girl. such a sweet girl. i know you were so frightened, all alone in this winter cold. but nana’s got you now, m’kay?” jaemin cooed at you.

your body and brain were melting. his touch felt so so good, it’s been so long since you’ve been pet like this. and his smell, god you’ve never smelled anything so delicious before.

“y/n, i know we just met and i know you must so scared right now. but i can’t just leave you like this in the cold. please, let me just take you back to my apartment and you can stay there for a couple nights. i have an extra room so don’t worry about needing to sleep with me. i’ll give you a fresh set of clothes and feed you while you’re there. but i can’t just leave you here in good faith.” jaemin gave you a sincere look, practically pleading for you to come back with him.

your tail stop swishing and you scrunched your little nose in heavy thought. on one hand, you knew next to nothing about this man and he wanted you to stay at his place? but a warm bed and a fresh set of clothes and hot meals sounded so so good… and how much harm could this good smelling stranger even do to you… the rational part of your brain was telling you no, this stranger couldn’t be trusted. who knows what he’d do to you once you were in his territory? but your body was saying otherwise, he made you feel so good inside and he could take care of you even for just a few days.

you gave a long hard stare before replying. “okay. just for a little bit,” you whispered softly, still scared out of your mind.

jaemin used his beefy arms to support your weight as he helped you stand up on shaky legs. he wrapped his winter coat around your shivering body, cooing sweet reassuring words into your ear. his scent was absolutely intoxicating to you, leaving your mind fuzzy and full of him.

as soon as you stepped into his apartment, you were greeted with three balls of white fur bombarding your legs. one licked and nibbled on your toes, another purred and rubbed itself against your legs, and the other circled around your legs, tail swishing happily. you squealed at the sight, such cute kitties!

“ah ah lucy, luke, and luna, let’s not scare our guest, okay babies?” he spoke to them in such a gentle tone, it had your heart melting.

“n-no, s’okay, nana. i love kittens,” you reached down to pet them and give them chin rubs. all three kittens cuddled close to your body and let out loud purs. jaemin’s heart fluttered at your usage of his nickname.

“what are their names?” you asked.

“this one is lucy, this one is luke, and this one is luna. i got them a few months ago. i didn’t want to separate these three siblings so i just adopted all three. aren’t they just the sweetest things?”

you nodded, letting out purs alongside the kittens. you would never tell him this now but you also thought jaemin was so sweet.

he crouched down to pet the kitties alongside you. “they must really like you. they’re not usually this sweet and welcoming to guests. guess they recognize a kitten just as cute as them too.”

you pretended to not notice his last comment but your red face and happily swishing tail gave away your happiness.

“y/n, let’s get you into the bath and some clean clothes, hm? i know you must be dying to get this grime off you,” jaemin gently whispered, still petting the three purring kitties on the floor alongside you.

you paused, ears twitching. “bath?”

“yeah, a bath,” jaemin replied, looking up at you to gauge how you felt. your nose was scrunched up cutely in disgust at the mere idea of a bath.

“don’t need one. can lick myself clean,” you grumbled, pouting slightly.

you stopped petting the kitties, who seemed very displeased at the lack of attention you were giving them, and finally took a look around his apartment. the unfamiliar environment made you slightly uneasy but somehow you knew you were going to be safe. everything just smelled so strongly of him, it made your head dizzy and belly warm.

“kitty, you need to take a bath. i’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable now but you will feel so much better after,” jaemin gently reassured you.

you shook your head, cheeks puffed and ears pinned back. “no. don’t want.”

jaemin sighed, rising to his feet. “c’mon baby. let me run a warm bath for you. i promise it will feel so good.”

he tried taking your hand but you hissed and swatted at him. “no. away.” you backed yourself into a corner.

jaemin gave you a defeated look before disappearing around a corner. you sat back down to cuddle and play with the kittens.

jaemin came back to see you playing with the kittens so happily. it seemed they really helped make you feel comfortable in this foreign environment and his cats liked you so much already.

“kitty, come with me,” he prodded at your arm.

you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “where are you taking me?”

“you’ll see.” jaemin decided to take it upon himself to carry you in his arms bridal style. his strength had you flinging around like a ragdoll, making you very angry.

you started clawing and biting at his arms, kicking your legs and screaming wildly. “let me go! let me go! hey!”

he brought you into a steamy bathroom and sat you on the ledge of the bubbly bathtub. he used his strength to pin your hips in place as he kneeled and situated himself between your legs.

“baby, i know you don’t want to take a bath but you need to wash this dirt off yourself. just listen to nana, hm?” he stared deep into your eyes with a serious look on his face, causing you to shift around in unease.

you broke eye contact and looked away, pouting deeply. “fine. you’ve literally given me no choice anyway. i’ll get in the stupid bath.”

you practically ripped your tattered clothes off your body and jumped straight into the water, splashing water and bubbles every where. you thrashed around wildly in the water, slipping and sliding all over the place. god, how long ago was it since you’ve had a bath like this?

jaemin reached into the water and held you firmly upright, using his thumb to rub you reassuringly. “woah, kitty. be careful, it’s dangerous to be so careless in the water. you can hurt yourself.”

“too long since i’ve had a bath like this,” you moaned, slipping under the water til your nose was just sticking out.

jaemin rolled up his sleeves and started rinsing your hair, massaging circles of shampoo into your scalp. you purred contentedly, tail swishing and splashing in the water.

“such a good kitty, doing so good for nana,” he murmured lowly as he washed and rinsed your hair and body affectionately.

you stayed in the tub, splashing around happily, until the warm water began to run cold. jaemin allowed you to step out before drying your body with a fluffy white towel. he dressed you in a pair of his grey sweatpants and a fuzzy black hoodie that smelled oh so deliciously of him. you inhaled the neckline of the hoodie deeply, his smell making your limbs dizzy and head fuzzy.

“all better now, kitty?” he smiled teasingly at you.

you gave a sheepish smile back. “thank you, nana.”

“it’s getting late, baby. let me get you a little snack. stay here on the couch,” he gave you a small peck to your head and walked to the kitchen.

his kittens strutted up to you, meowing and begging to be held. you grabbed all three in your arms and snuggled them close to your chest, pressing kisses to their fluffy fur.

jaemin walked into the living room, holding a glass of warm milk and a plate of cookies, to see you with his babies. his heart fluttered at the sight, so freaking adorable.

“this is for you, y/n,” he walked over and handed you the milk and cookies.

you smiled appreciatively at him before furrowing your eyebrows cutely. “why are you being so kind to me? we just met a few hours ago.”

jaemin shrugged his shoulders and sat next to you, grabbing lucy into his lap and stroking her fur. “i’ve always been a cat person, as you can see.”

you munched on the cookies happily and let the kittens snuggle up to you. luke and lucy fell asleep on your lap, purring contentedly. you let out a soft yawn and fluttered your eyelids. jaemin chuckled. you were just so stinking cute.

“getting sleepy, baby? i’ll take you to the guess bedroom,” he grabbed your arm, sleepy kittens still in hand, before leading you to the room right across from his bedroom.

“can i sleep with the kittens tonight?” you whispered softly.

“of course, baby,” he replied.

before he could turn to walk back to his room, you grabbed his sleeve and gave a quick peck to his cheek before scurrying to hide underneath the covers. your face was hot and red.

so freaking cute, jaemin though to himself, grinning widely.

it was the middle of the night. you didn’t even know what time it was but you couldn’t fall asleep. your mind was running a million thoughts all at once. what were you going to do when jaemin eventually got tired of you freeloading and kicked you out? how were you supposed to live back on the street now that you know what kindness feels like? you liked jaemin so much you didn’t want to leave him.

before you could think it over, you slowly got out of bed and knocked on jaemin’s door. a sleepy jaemin with a raspy voice and half-lidded eyes opened the door.

“yes, baby?” his sleepy voice was so sexy to you.

you stared hard at the ground. “m sorry for waking you, nana. i couldn’t sleep. would it be okay if i slept in here? just for tonight. you smell so good and comforting i thought maybe-“

he stopped you, lifting your chin to look you deep in your eyes. “kitty, don’t be so nervous around me. of course you can sleep in my bed, c’mon.”

he beckoned you over and lifted the comforter up, allowing you to slip in under the covers. he tried to lay a respectable foot away from you but you started whining and pawing at his arms to come closer. he scooted an inch closer but you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around you, snuggling your face into his thick chest and purring happily. your ears twitched cutely and tickled his face. jaemin was shocked at your boldness but molded his body to yours and cuddled you tightly.

“much better,” you sighed happily. you inhaled deeply, his smell flooding your senses. he was so warm and so comfy, you were in heaven. who would've guessed you'd be in this position when you were just swatting and hissing at him earlier in the night?

you fell asleep quickly, letting out soft sighs as you snoozed away. but now jaemin couldn’t fall back asleep. how could he? he had the sweetest little catgirl snuggling so cutely in his arms. he felt so guilty for it but he could feel his erection growing. he cursed at himself. stop being such a horny fuck. she may be cute but she trusts you to not be a freak around her, he thought.

somehow, jaemin ended up falling asleep and he woke up to you staring up at his sleeping face. your wide doe eyes were so cute just watching him adorably, he could wake up like this every day.

“morning, nana,” you whispered softly. during the night, your legs got tangled with his as you rest your hands on his chest. you could feel how thick and built he was underneath the thin material of his shirt, making your rub your thighs together unintentionally.

“good morning, baby. did you sleep well?” his deep morning voice sent shivers down your spine. his half lidded eyes and sleepy smile made him look so sexy.

you gave him a toothy smile, ears twitching and tail slapping against the bed. “yes i did. best sleep in a long time.”

he gave you a deep kiss to the top of your head, inhaling against your scalp. now that you’ve had a bath, you smelled so sweet and soft and milky. “glad to hear that. let me make breakfast before i have to leave for work.”

he slowly got up from underneath the covers, making you whine and reach for his arms to cuddle you once more.

“baby, i need to make you breakfast. can’t have my sweet kitty starve, now can i? look lucy, luna, and luke are here and they look like they want cuddles too.” he gave you a wink as the three kittens jumped on the bed and walked over to you.

jaemin returned with a plate of fresh fruit, eggs, pancakes, and some bacon. your ears perked up and you sniffed the air excitedly.

jaemin chuckled at your excitement. “hungry are we, kitty?”

you nodded excitedly. “i love pancakes. it’s been so long since i’ve had them.”

you scarfed down the breakfast jaemin made for you. bits of egg gathered at the corner of your mouth and jaemin wiped them away for you.

shyly, you told him, “thank you. for the breakfast and for everything, nana. i’ve never been treated this kindly before.”

jaemin scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, giving you a sweet peck on the cheek. “anything for my kitty.”

he checked his watch and jumped up suddenly. “shit! i’m gonna be late for work.” he rushed into his closet to grab clothes to change into.

you sat on the bed as he stripped to his underwear and put on black slacks and a white button-down. you blushed at the sight of his bare body, thinking he was so sexy but you’d die before telling him that.

rushing to put his shoes on, he gave you one final kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. “i’ll be back tonight for dinner, okay kitty? i’ll leave a 50 on the counter so you can buy whatever you want for yourself. see you this evening, baby.”

your heart sunk. you didn’t want him to leave you again. not when you just met. you knew he was going to come back home (he had to) but that didn’t fill the empty hole in your heart. your eyes welled up with a few tears before you wiped them away with your sleeve. jaemin has been so kind to you so it was time for you to stop looking like a bum and fix yourself up cutely for him.

later that evening, jaemin returned home to not just 3 kitties running up to him to give him some love but also you rushing up to give him a big bear hug. your little body crushing him with a tight squeeze as you nuzzled your face in his chest made his heart melt. he felt you purring against his chest as his arms wrapped around your body.

“missed me, huh kitty?” he teased.

you loosened your grip to look into his eyes. “yes i did,” you pouted seriously.

“i missed you too, baby. let me take these work clothes off so i can make dinner for you,” he replied, giving your head a sweet kiss and inhaling your milky scent.

you reluctantly let go as jaemin’s eyes widened at the sight. you were wearing the cutest little outfit he had no idea where you got it from. a short white mini skirt with a tight lacy pink crop top that showed off your plump tits that were practically spilling out of your shirt. you even had baby pink thigh highs with little bows on them.

“like it?” you smiled up at him, giving a little swirl. he caught sight of little white panties underneath your skirt.

jaemin was breathless. “where did you get this little outfit, baby?”

you smiled even wider. “used the money you left me to go shopping for this. i told the lady to help me find something to impress you and she showed me this.”

jaemin eyed your body hungrily, making you squirm and rub your thighs together. “so, nana? do you like it?”

jaemin gave you a tight hug, pressing his body against yours. you could feel his bulge against your pelvis, making your panties so wet. “i love it, baby. you’re so cute.”

your tail swished happily as you purred against him. “yayyy,” you said excitedly.

“baby, let me go make dinner for us, kay? just wait for me and we can cuddle after.” he hummed against your head.

for dinner, you sat in his lap on the couch, eating your steaming bowls of soup and happily cuddling with the three kitties. your little skirt rode up your thighs, causing your panties to peak out. you wiggled your ass around on jaemin’s lap, sighing contentedly as jaemin shifted around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening bulge.

“thank you again, nana. i appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you purred.

jaemin gave you a wink. “of course, my baby. you can stay with me for as long as you need. i’m not just gonna throw you out.”

you sat up excitedly, tail swishing, as you turned to face him. “really? you really mean it?”

jaemin nodded. “of course. stay with me as long as you need. my home is always open to you.”

you set your bowl down and gave him a tight hug. “yay yay yayy!! thank you, nana!”

you leaned back to look him in his eyes when you slowly looked down to stare at his lips. slowly, you inched forward and planted a sweet kiss on his lips, sucking and licking gently. jaemin was shocked at your boldness but reciprocated your kiss with a renewed fervor. you wrapped your arms around his neck and sat there on his lap as you made out with him intensely.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned against your lips, rubbing circles on your back and lightly bucking his hips against yours. you let out soft whimpers and moans.

you pulled away from him and rested your foregead against his to gaze deep into his eyes. you looked so fucking hot in that moment jaemin was about to lose it. puffy lips, wild hair, lidded eyes staring at him seductively, ears twitching so cutely. you stared at each other, air tingling with tension and need.

jaemin broke the silence. “baby, i don’t have work tomorrow. let’s go shopping and buy you some cute clothes to wear, kay?”

you nodded and sunk your face into his neck, sniffing at his sexy scent. “yes, i would like that a lot, nana.”

for the next few weeks, you would drive jaemin crazy. always prancing around wearing the cutest little outfits that would leave nothing to the imagination. snuggling and cuddling him so cutely whenever he had the tiniest bit of freetime to lounge around. sleeping in his bed and tangled up in his arms while rubbing yourself against his body. kissing him and making out with him at every possible moment but never going further than that. you were so so clingy with him, always whining and pouting when he had to go anywhere without you. and when he got back, you’d cling to him like a little koala. you were just his sweetest, cutest little kitten and he wanted to gobble you up.

“nana, don’t leave me. how long will you be gone this time?” you pouted and pawed at his chest, pressing your body against his.

“baby,” he sighed. “i need to go drop this off at the post office. i’ll be back in 20 minutes, okay? then i’ll give you your cuddles.”

you sniffled. “meanie.”

when he came back as promised, 19 minutes later, you ran and jumped up into his arms. “you came back, nana! missed you so much.” you pressed a sweet kiss against his lips.

“you’re so precious, kitty. my sweet kitty always so good to nana,” he hummed against your lips.

you pulled away. “nana, i have a problem.”

jaemin started to press soft kisses up and down your jawline. “hm?”

“i’ve been feeling weird lately. i don’t know how to explain it.”

he paused, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “what do you mean, baby?”

“everytime you touch me like that, i get all tingly.” you pointed to your privates. “i get all warm and hot down there. and my panties get a little wet. is there something wrong with me?”

jaemin’s jaw dropped in realization. oh. oh.

“oh, baby. uh,” he started, setting you down on the ground gently. “how do i explain this?”

you tilted your head expectantly at him.

“it means you need me.” he said simply.

you looked confused. “need you? of course i need you. you’re my nana and i’m your kitty.”

“no baby. it means you need me to touch you right there.”

you had a look of realization on your face. “oh.”

“baby, i can help you. i can make you feel really good. but only if you tell me, okay? i won’t do anything you don’t want.” he said slowly, gauging your reaction.

you had a sure look on your face. “nana, i trust you. please touch me.”

jaemin growled and smashed his lips against yours, gripping your ass with one hand and running his hand through your hair in another. you purred needily, rubbing your legs together and feeling that warmth between your legs again.

“baby, can i take this to the bedroom?” he sighed breathlessly against your lips.

you nodded excitedly and chased his lips with yours once more. he hoisted you up by your waist and wrapped your legs around his waist. you lightly grinded against his abdomen, causing him to groan and curse against your lips.

he threw you onto the bed, knocking you breathless, and climbed on top of you to kiss you deeply once more. you whined and bucked your hips up against him in need.

“need more, nana,” you whimpered.

“m getting there, baby,” he said as he started to take your skirt, top, bra, and finally panties off your body, never disconnecting his lips from yours.

he reached his hand down to lightly tease your leaking pussy. you felt so warm and hot down there, you needed more. “more! more!” you cried out.

he took one finger and lightly went around your sopping hole. “fuck, this pussy is so wet for me, huh? you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this. the perfect kitty.”

he plunged one finger in, which had you whining and bucking against his hand. as he pumped his finger in and out of your drooling cunt, he slowly added another finger, then another. he alternated between pumping your cunt and taking his fingers out to play with your clit.

you moaned and cried out. “fuck yes! yes, more, please oh god more!”

he planted a deep kiss on your lips. “my kitty is doing so good for me.”

suddenly, he ripped his hand from your cunt, which had you whining and pouting. then he crawled down to face your beautiful pussy. you were so wet and leaky, all for him. he groaned and shoved his face right into your cunt, tonguing at your hole before licking a strip up to your clit. you screamed and cried out, gripping at his hair and shoving his face further into your crying pussy. he started sucking and licking at your clit before shoving three of his fingers back into your hole, pumping up and hitting your G-spot. tears rolled down your face from all the pleasure.

you felt your core get tight. “nana! nana! feel funny down there… my pussy keeps leaking more!” you cried out.

he looked up from your cunt. he looked so fucking sexy, eyes lidded and face dripping with your arousal. “baby, don’t worry. just relax and feel good, kay?”

he dove back into fingering your dripping cunt and sucking and licking at your clit when you felt a wave of pleasure burst from your core. your cunt squirted out wetness as you screamed in pleasure.

“oh god! nanaaa!!” you sobbed, covering your face with your arm from the intense pleasure.

he grinned, licking his lips and fingers clean, and gently pulled your arm from your face. “let look at you, gorgeous. that felt good, right?”

you nodded vigorously. “nana, need more. felt so good.”

you pulled at his belt loop and started unbuckling his jeans. he let you pull his pants down as he took his shirt off, exposing his sexy toned body. you were drooling at the sight.

“nana, you are so sexy,” you whispered, staring directly at his chiseled abs.

he winked at you before finally pulling his boxers down and letting his rock hard cock spring free. your eyes got as wide as saucers. he was massive. so red and veiny, thick from base to tip, and a slight curve upwards. a bead of pearly white liquid gathered at the tip. his balls looked so big and heavy too. your mouth watered.

“wow,” you whispered to yourself.

jaemin smirked, giving himself a few pumps. “like it, baby?”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve never done this before. can i put it in my mouth?”

jaemin groaned. “fuck baby, you’re gonna be the death of me. so cute and so fucking hot.”

you leaned down and started licking the shaft, started at the base. you sucked his balls softly, letting the weight of them rest on your tongue as you moaned softly.

“just like that baby, fuck. sure you’ve never done this before?” he groaned and snaked his hands into gripping your hair.

you shook your head before licking his cock from base to tip. you gave his cock a small kiss and gulped. how were you going to fit this in your mouth. he was huge. slowly, you sucked on the tip before taking more and more into your mouth. you bobbed your head up and down on his cock as jaemin let out the sexiest groans. you let your tongue lick at the veins on the underside of his cock as you went faster and faster.

“oh, baby. fuck, you suck dick like a pro,” he moaned out. “you’re so gorgeous and perfect, you know that? i love you, my sweet kitty.”

all of sudden, you bottomed out on his cock, sticking it all in your mouth at once. you gave a few licks to his balls.

“oh fuck, fuck, fuck, m gonna cum,” jaemin cursed.

he ripped your head off his cock with a lewd pop. leaving you whining and chasing his cock for more. he threw you back against the bed and pinned you down, cock bouncing angrily against his stomach. you rubbed your legs together as your pussy leaked and drooled in need.

“as good as you suck dick, baby, i need to finish inside you,” he growled, giving you a deep kiss.

he reached into his nightstand to pull out a condom.

“what’s that?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head.

he ripped the packet open and started rolling it on his cock. “it’s called a condom, baby. you put it on before having sex to prevent pregnancy.”

you shook your head slowly. “do you have to wear it? don’t want you to. wanna feel your cock in my pussy raw.”

jaemin paused. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded. “very sure.”

he groaned and cursed to himself. something about “fuck, she’s so sexy and she doesn’t even know it.” he ripped the condom off and threw it off the bed somewhere. then he climbed back on top of you and propped your legs up against his shoulders and lined his cock with your entrance. he gave himself a few punps and teased your soaking hole with the tip of his leaking cock. “ready, baby?”

you nodded vigorously and whined, bucking your hips up to meet his cock. he bottomed out inside you with one thrust, causing you to scream out.

“oh, nana! fuck!” you cried deliciously. your ears twitched so cutely it had jaemin wanting to pound you hard and fast immediately.

he paused his hips to let you against to his size. “are you okay, baby?”

you kissed him. “if you don’t move i might lose my mind.”

with that, he pounded your little pussy with his big cock hard and deep. you cried and screamed at the intense pleasure, claws scratching at his back. the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass had you leaking all around. you squirmed and wriggled underneath him, causing him to use his strength to pin your hips to the mattress.

“fuck baby, you feel so good. real thing is much better than what i’ve imagined,” he growled against your neck.

“oh jaemin,” you called out.

his hips went faster and harder. “say it again. say my name, baby.”

“j-jaemin,” you cried. “jaemin jaemin jaemin! yes oh fuck yes!” in the deep mating press he had you in, you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix sweetly.

“oh baby, i love you so much. love my sweet kitty so much. so precious and so sweet to me.” he groaned into your neck.

you were losing your mind in pleasure. “oh jaemin, gonna cum again. more please more!!”

his hips rutted into you impossibly fast, god you were losing your mind. you felt your core tighten and burst with pleasure once again, waves of orgasm washing over your body. your pussy squirted all over his abdomen and spasmed around his cock. his hips continued to fuck you through your orgasm, leaving you feeling overstimulated with pleasure. fat tears rolled down your face as you sobbed and clawed at jaemin’s back.

“m gonna cum too baby,” he gave you a sweet kiss on your lips. “doing so good for me. so good for nana.”

with a final deep thrust, he bottomed out inside your pussy and let out hot white spurts of cum, so much that some dripped and leaked out even as he was still balls deep inside. he collapsed on top of you with a groan, inhaling your hair deeply. you laid there panting and covered in sweat.

“love you, kitty,” he whispered softly into your ear.

“love you too, nana.”

#nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin fluff

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murdockbarnes · 7 months ago

Text

you'll have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

pairing: eloise bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: eloise bridgerton has successfully chased away a flurry of lady's maids. has she finally met her match?

wordcount: almost 3k

warnings: fluff, angst, no happy ending. 18+ minors do not interact. nothing explicit, but still.

A/N: eloise is aged up in this, around 24. partly inspired by this gorgeous artwork and good luck babe by chappell roan.

i try not use y/n in my fics but i started writing this over two years ago and a good chunk of it was already written using y/n, so i am just too lazy to change it now. sorry it that bothers anyone! any feedback would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

*not edited, all mistakes are mine*

viscount bridgerton was worried. a slew of lady's maids and none were strong willed enough to deal with his storm of a younger sister, eloise. of course, he loved her passion dearly, just not so much when it felt like he had to look for a new lady's maid every other week. the last lady's maid lasted two days. anthony just hoped the new one would last a little longer.

eloise was proud of herself - she had just broken her personal record: two days. in the years since she had made her debut, she had driven away at least 20 lady's maids each year. it wasn't that she enjoyed tormenting them, it was just that she hated society's expectations of her and her sex. she hated the lady's maids on principal, it was nothing personal, even though they did make her life easier. she had thought that anthony would finally give up, so imagine her surprise when she went down to the drawing room only to find her mother sitting with whom she guessed was to be her new lady's maid.

"you must be joking" eloise scoffed.

"eloise-" violet began.

"quite the contrary, ma'am," you began as eloise's eyes once again slid over to yours. "i am to be your new lady's maid. my name is y/n y/l/n."

"don't bother getting too comfortable, miss y/l/n" eloise flashed you a sugary sweet smile before turning on her heel and departing.

the next few weeks saw you exhausted, as eloise did everything in her power to vex you enough to make you quit. but you were determined. each night, after whatever ordeal she had put you through for the day, whether it be going shopping and swiftly disappearing into the crowd, sending you up and down multiple flights of stairs to look for something she had with her all along, or whatever torture she thought of that day, you would smile brightly at her before departing for the night.

that night, right before you closed the doors to her room, you saw her crack, saw her frown. eloise was understandably confused. you should have given up by now, you should have broken and quit. yet, here you were two months into this arrangement. the longest yet. to be really quite honest, eloise was running out of ideas to scare you off.

another ball passed with more judgement from the mamas of the ton. eloise could feel their eyes burning into her back like the power of a thousand suns. she was just exhausted of this constant routine and wished she could escape. and she wanted this blasted dress off her.

you started unlacing the back of the dress, your fingers accidentally brushing her soft skin, goosebumps appearing in their wake. as you brush her hair and see eloise's reflection in the mirror, a prominent frown between her brows, you realise this ball must have taken more of a toll on her for her to be so docile with you. you blow out all candles save one, and even when you exit, eloise is deep in thought in front of the mirror.

hyacinth was debuting this season, and violet swears the effort to find both hyacinth and eloise husbands is taking years off her life. she loves how fierce and passionate her daughters are, but she wished it was easier to find them husbands, as at the end of the day she wants to see them happy with their own little family.

eloise is forced out to promenade with hyacinth, and as always, her lady's maid is to be her shadow. eloise is perturbed to see her so unbothered by her antics. when she crosses the street boldly in front of an oncoming carriage, so does she. when she takes a detour and leaves hyacinth and her own lady's maid behind, she follows. as she looks over her shoulder to see her walking a few paces behind, her foot hits the stump of a tree and she goes tumbling down.

the pain radiates up eloise's leg, and she feels hands on her in seconds. the next moments are a blur and eloise does not remember how she finds herself in her bed, a physician standing at the end of her bed claiming a broken foot, and her mother and youngest sister fretting over her.

"i'm afraid the foot is broken, lady bridgerton," the physician finishes his examination and wraps her foot in a bandage.

"how long will it take to heal, doctor?" violet asks worriedly.

"two to three months, my lady. possibly even more, depending on the severity."

"she'll miss the entirety of the season! maybe even more. can nothing be done?" violet queries. eloise, on the other hand, feels as though her wish of an escape has actually been granted.

"i'm afraid not, she must try to keep her weight off of it as much as she can. there is not much else that can be done, it will take time. maybe the countryside and fresh air will help, away from the busyness of the ton and the social season."

violet does not miss the way her daughter's face lights up. eloise, sensing her mother is about to refuse, speaks up.

"please, mama, i promise i'll be good. i'd be bored to death here anyway. at least at aubrey hall i'd get to enjoy the library." eloise can see the hesitation on violet's face, but she can see the moment she relents.

"alright, but your y/n is going with you."

eloise's smile drops but she knows arguing will just result in her stuck in london. so she agrees ruefully.

it's just you and eloise in the carriage on the way to aubrey hall, the rest of the bridgertons busy with the social season. you help eloise to her room, making sure she is comfortable before leaving to go make arrangements for dinner.

the short walk up the stairs to eloise's room that she insisted on staying in took a lot more out of her than she expected. her foot really was in a bad condition, that was true, but not bad enough that she would need to supervised at night too, she thought.

she's just settled into bed with a book after you helped her get ready for bed after dinner, when you walk into the room again, this time in a nightgown of your own, and a thin rolled up mattress, pillow, and sheets in hand.

"i'll be fine for the night, you can go," eloise says, briefly looking up from her book, slightly irritated.

"i'm sorry, miss bridgerton," you begin, already setting up your sleeping area for the night. "but i'm under strict instructions from the dowager viscountess and the viscount. i am to constantly be by your side, should you need anything, and that means sleeping in the same room as you."

you see as the irritation begins to bleed into her face, brows closer together, a slight frown on her lips.

"can't you just tell them you did and not actually sleep here? i'd quite like some privacy."

"my apologies, miss bridgerton, but i can't. i take my job and my duties to you and your family very seriously. i wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the trust your mother and brother have placed in me."

"i do not care about any of that! i just want a moment's peace from you!" eloise bursts out, red splotches high on her face. she makes a move to get out of bed but the pain in her leg flares up. within seconds, you are by her side, warm, gentle hands carefully positioning her foot back on the pillow.

"i'm afraid i have to disappoint you, miss. but i'm here to stay."

days in the countryside slipped into a routine. you would wake up first, prepare breakfast for eloise, along with a book. you'd get her ready for the day, and then station her by the large windows, refuse her when she wanted to walk around, and help her should she rebel anyways.

you confused eloise. why had you still not budged? and despite your stubborn moments, why did you always otherwise treat her with gentleness? here, in the countryside with less people around, she had seen you smile more. your hair was in a slightly looser updo, and your usual uniform not as strict. more than a few times, eloise found herself looking much too closely at you.

last night for instance, when you came back with your bedding after getting eloise ready for bed, in a thin, worn shift that hung loosely off your frame. the fire illuminated your silhouette through the thin shift as you stood facing it, getting ready for bed. eloise found her concentration completely off her book, a funny feeling in her chest. she could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster. she had never felt like this before, this flustered. she only prayed the candlelight was dim enough for you to be unable to make out the blush she was sure was on her face.

it confused her even further. being the analytical person she was, she read into every look, every touch. did she leave you as flustered as you did her? did you also feel this shortness of breath, this disappearing heartbeat?

she feels your fingers gently run through her scalp. everything feels different since that night. she can't help but try to look for clues, discern your expressions, your emotions, feelings. did you also feel this foreign feeling? she had bathed with the help of many a ladies' maids, but why does it suddenly feel so intimate? as though baring her unclothed body to you was akin to baring her heart out flat? the thought terrified and thrilled her at the same time, that you might truly see her, understand her and her feelings better than anyone.

the lukewarm water trickles down eloise's back as you gently move her hair and run the washcloth over her shoulders. you're kneeling by the bathtub, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with eloise even though you feel her eyes on you. you switch to focus on washing her legs next, taking precaution to be extra gentle with her healing foot. your mind has just drifted to the thought about how intimate giving a simple bath to your employer can be if you harbour specific feelings for them, when eloise's hand, warm from the bath, wraps around your wrist. you finally make eye contact, and the desperation and emotions you find in her eyes knocks the breath out of you.

warm, wet hands cup your face gently, and you feel drawn to wherever they are pulling you to. you wait with bated breath, afraid that she'll stop, afraid that you would stop feeling her breath on your face, noses a hair's width apart. instinctively, your eyes close, and then you feel the softest pair of lips you've ever felt on yours. the perfume from her bathwater clouds your senses as her lips run over yours a little clumsily, but the hunger in the kiss makes up for it. you have never felt this kind of unadulterated desire in any other kiss before.

you kiss back with the same amount of hunger, tongue running over the seam of her lips, silently asking her to grant you permission, and she does. your fingers sink into damp hair, the feel of which you know all too well, as hers map the curves of your face and neck, and dare to go lower. a finger runs against your collarbone, taking advantage of the first few buttons undone and splaying against your sternum. you let her pull you into the bath with her, uncaring of your dress getting wet. when she further unbuttons your dress, you don't protest, letting her hands explore.

when you pull away after what feels like hours, there is a soft smile on her face, unlike her usual smirk, blush high on her cheeks and lips swollen, hair damp and skin glowing under the lamplight. you have seen her in many situations but you think she has never looked more divine.

things change between you after that. stolen kisses and casual touches behind closed doors, not a moment out of eloise's bed at night, going to sleep with the feel of her lips on yours, her taste still in your mouth. eloise grows more confident with her touches, no longer hesitant to mess up your appearance during your stolen moments, her hands slipping beneath the hem of your shift. as her foot heals little by little, she shows you further into the estate, taking any chance she can to leave your lips swollen and your cheeks hot. everything is so picture perfect that you are afraid of the bubble bursting when you do have to inevitably return back to ton.

and, inevitably as predicted, it does. the season ends with eloise's foot still on the mend, but her family's return to the countryside, while she finds that a joyous prospect, means distance between you both. still, it's not bad, you two still get to spend most of your time together, and you both master the art of stolen moments. it is not until the next season rolls around that the bubble is well and truly shattered.

a suitor starts pursuing eloise earnestly, and eloise doesn't seem entirely opposed to the idea. you know she was still trying to get over penelope's marriage to her brother, and the end to their future plans of spinsterhood. the spiral it sent her on had caused a rift between the both of you, but there was nothing you could do to bridge the distance, no matter how hard you tried; eloise had retired to her thoughts ever since.

eloise spent less time with you, and you found yourself spending more time with her footman, john, in an effort to distract yourself when thoughts of eloise consumed you entirely. john was a good man, he made you laugh and forget your problems with eloise, if only for a moment.

eloise walks into the drawing room and finds her mother and you, so reminiscent of that first day. instead of irritation or apprehension this time, her chest fills with knots. she hasn't spoken to you properly or spent time with you in weeks. she was too preoccupied in her own thoughts and refused to let you in. you won't meet her eyes now and the heavy feeling keeps growing heavier. you feel worlds apart. she never meant for the distance to happen.

"oh, eloise dear, come here," violet exclaims. "oh this is most wonderful news. y/n is getting married!"

"i- what?" shock colours eloise's voice. "to whom?"

"to footman john. now don't be impolite, eloise, isn't it just marvelous news?"

"yes, marvelous indeed." she chokes on the words, the fear of losing you coming to life. she was so scared, preoccupied with wallowing in her spinsterhood without pen, that she pushed you away. she feels her throat start to close up. "excuse me, mama, i just remembered i have to do something."

you watch with worried eyes as eloise departs, and follow after her, seeing if she needs anything. after all, that is what your job is, and it was stupid of you to think you that your relationship with her, whatever it may have been, could ever amount to anything more.

when you walk into her room, you see eloise pacing around, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her face.

"i do not want to see you right now." hurt colours her tone.

"eloise, i-"

"you do not get to call me that! you do not get to shatter my heart and then call me that."

"what do you want me to do, eloise? you cannot expect me to sit around waiting for you while you search for a suitor for yourself." you burst out, tears of your own now making a path down your cheeks. "you can't expect me to chaperone your promenades with suitors, bear that hurt. you cannot expect that of me. not when you don't want to give us a chance, not when you don't want to give us a future."

"i- that is not true."

"if that is not true, then tell me what i am to you. tell me that you are not considering marriage with any of your suitors. how long will you keep denying yourself love, deny what you and i are? marrying any of these men will not solve anything, even though i know you think it will. i love you, eloise, i gave my entire heart to you. can you say it back?" you have moved closer to her, eyes pleading with her to respond.

but she doesn't, turns away from you. "i can't, you know i can't."

you never thought words could hurt this much. the sting of tears is still fresh when you see eloise for the last time. "then this is goodbye, eloise. i hope you manage to find happiness."

when sir phillip kisses her at the altar, her mind drifts to her last kiss, a few years ago now. the ghost of soft lips on hers, feathering light kisses across her cheekbones and eyes, of lips curving into a gentle smile against hers. she feels the wrongness of this one, the stubble rubbing against her chin, slightly rough lips. but she'll drown herself on it nonetheless, choke on it until it erases her memories from her mind, takes with it that fateful final day. she can't turn back time, so she'll settle for this, the ghost of a soft kiss and gentle arms around her.

#ara writes #eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x fem reader #eloise bridgerton angst #eloise bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #wlw x reader

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?��

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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