#the porch is a fridge

[sleep-deprived-person]

Hell, the porch is a freezer.

[eisbecherovka]

[unfogged-arc]

my drinks fridge since @mercymedic asked! mostly alcohol and redbull tbh.

[victorluvsalice]

-->Though I quickly learned I had bigger problems than Alice cooking naked, when I discovered Nalani had wandered around to the back porch and was doing some herbalism at the grill. :O!! Fortunately, she was good enough not to set any mood-killing fires, and she and Felipe eventually wandered into the kitchen to chat with Alice (now clothed again, yay) and offer their help with the cooking. While Clement Frost did his best to snag some leftover fruit pie and grand breakfast. *sigh* Food's coming, good sir! Alice eventually finished the meal (getting level 5 Gourmet Cooking skill in the process, nice) and called everyone to the table --

-->Cue a mess as I tried to get everyone to at least SIT at the table without getting distracted. *shakehead* It took quite a bit of wrangling as Sims got distracted playing on their phones, going outside to check on the specters on the front porch (who were currently sprinkling their playfulness all over Angela Pleasant), and trying to get other food from the fridge, but EVENTUALLY everyone (well, everyone who could fit -- sorry, Nalani, it's a six-seater!) sat around the damn table. Oh Sims, why are you like this... Anyway, everyone enjoyed the food they had in front of them, and Smiler tried telling some stories about pirate captains and castaways, because it was actually Talk Like A Pirate Day on top of everything else. XD Neither of their attempts actually fulfilled the goal (they kept ending the stories early), but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves regardless, so -- win?

-->With the meal sorted, I noticed the weather was just getting worse and worse -- so while Clement, Felipe, Nalani, and Rory kept chatting to each other in the kitchen (and getting more leftovers out of the fridge -- guys, come on), Victor headed out back to the weather machine and cleared the skies before downing a Potion of Plentiful Needs to fix his exhaustion and other failing needs. With the rain tapering off, Smiler cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen, and Alice got her tripod set up on the front porch (ignoring the passing NPC kicking over their garbage can) -- and then, once everything was clear, I sent the gang out to the front porch to take some trio shots to fulfill the "take 20 pictures" goal!

...as you can see, first shot was kind of ruined by the appearance of orange tiger stripes all over Victor. Oops. XD Not sure WHEN he got sick, but it certainly made things a mite more inconvenient when it came to pictures!

[cinemaocd]

To be fair to Helen Bron, two 16 ounces bottles of 9% hard kombucha would fuck anyone up...

[shingodzillaa]

Panicked as maintenance man came over while I was on Frank’s morning walk and had to do a quick clean

So I put the bong in the fridge

[nkulunkulu]

miss her (the sun) Its been cold (and still is) and cloudy these past weeks but today was better. video is from 15/7/2024

[fingertipsmp3]

So the shift went fine but my weed cupcakes STILL aren’t here because royal mail decided not to leave them in my enclosed porch or my greenhouse or with my lovely, trustworthy neighbours

[maggot-baggage]

The cleaning never ends (<- cleaning things no one asked them to but needed cleaning regardless)

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Next

Masterlist

[helaintoloki]

May I request a five x reader where they are living domestically and just being happy and lovey dovey especially experiencing everything they did together while being in the apocalypse, the time commission, stoping the other apocalypses etc (five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lilia doesn’t-)

a/n: this piece is basically a big fuck you to s4 so enjoy five being happy and domestic with reader and not his own brother’s wife. also five and reader are mentally older adults but physically in their twenties

warnings: language, fluff, mentions of pregnancy

summary: now that the timeline has been fixed and the world is no longer in danger, five can enjoy a peaceful life with you

The sunlight that bleeds through the curtains is almost blinding as Five begins to stir himself awake. Stretching out his limbs until he hears a satisfying pop, he lets out a sigh and moves to reach out for someone that isn’t there. Your spot in bed is still warm which means you haven’t been gone for long, but Five still rises with a sense of urgency when greeted with your absence. Call it muscle memory from dealing with multiple kidnapping ploys against you or an old habit that just won’t die off after having to remain vigilant when protecting you from the enemy, but the poor boy’s heart always skips a beat when you go missing.

He finds you in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of coffee, your back to him as you hum along to the radio that plays on the counter and search for Five’s favorite cup in the cabinet. He has to pause and take a breath to remind himself that you’re not in danger, your life of protecting timelines and ending apocalypses is over, and the fresh start you’ve made for yourselves isn’t in any jeopardy. You’re real, you’re alive, and you’re his.

“Morning,” Five softly calls with a careful smile as he rests a hand on the small of your back and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” you great cheerfully before handing him his cup of coffee. “I didn’t hear you get up. Did I wake you?”

“Not at all,” he assures you before taking a hearty gulp of the hot liquid. After years of being together you know how to make Five’s coffee just the way he likes it and could probably do so in your sleep if asked. Your thoughtfulness is just one of the many traits of yours that have him wrapped around your finger always.

“We need to go grocery shopping,” you note dutifully as you peek your head into the fridge in search of breakfast. Frowning, you announce, “We’re out of eggs, so I guess it’s frozen waffles for breakfast.”

“Why don’t we go out for breakfast today?” Five suggests with an innocent shrug.

“Really? But you hate breakfast places. They can never make your coffee right.”

“I also hate seeing you eat frozen waffles three days in a row,” he reminds you with a wry chuckle. Maneuvering you out of the way, Five closes the fridge shut and gives you a gentle nudge in the direction of your shared bedroom. “Go on, get dressed. You can wear that new dress you bought the other day.”

“You’re right!” You exclaim with an excited gasp and rush off to your room before Five can change his mind. Not that he would, of course. Five would do anything to see you happy after all the shit he’s put you through in your time together. Sometimes he still wonders why you ever agreed to marry him, perhaps a slip of sanity or lack of care for your own wellbeing, but he wasn’t one to complain. He liked living the quiet life with you, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

~~~

The night air is cool against your bare shoulders as you sit comfortably upon the porch swing and listen to the cicadas sing their evening song. The sun has long since set, but the string of lights that hang above you are enough to allow you to see the pages of your color by numbers book. Beside you, Five sits with a book in one hand while the other rests atop of your legs strewn across his lap. He enjoys sitting in the silence of your company as you remain glued together despite partaking in your own hobbies separately.

“We’ve been married for thirty years,” you state simply, breaking the silence but never once breaking your focus from your coloring book.

“Sure have,” is Five’s thoughtful reply. Setting his book aside, your husband gives your calf a gentle squeeze and turns to look at your concentrated features.

“Not including your siblings, it’s always been just us. Together in the apocalypse, partners under the Commission, husband and wife.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, not quite sure what point you’re trying to make. Are you rethinking the marriage? Are you finally starting to have regrets about marrying him? He watches with bated breath as you set your materials to the side and finally meet his anxious gaze.

“I want to start a family of our own,” you finally confess, nervously fidgeting with your wedding ring as you await his response with hopeful eyes. “I don’t want it to be just us anymore.”

Sighing, Five leans his head back and shuts his eyes as he processes your request. He can’t say he’s surprised by your question; he’s noticed the way you eye babies in public, how you linger just a little too long to admire the window display of the infant clothing store at the mall, how you’ll hold the twins for hours in your arms and refuse to give them back until Diego has to physically pry them from your grasp. It’s only natural for you to feel this way, but that’s not the problem. The problem is Five isn’t exactly sure how he feels about becoming a father.

“I don’t know,” he admits carefully, taking great caution when choosing his next words so as to not upset you. “Having a kid, becoming parents… it changes everything.”

“I know we couldn’t before because there was the Commission and then the multiple apocalypses, and that’s why I never asked. But Five,” you urge gently, shifting to sit yourself up on your knees so you can reach over and take both of his hands in your own, “all of that is done with. We fixed the timeline, and all that end of the world nonsense is over with for good. No one is coming after us anymore or trying to kill me to get to you. We can properly grow old now and have a simple life together, wasn’t that always the goal?”

The boy is silent as he mulls over your speech. You’re completely right; saving the world and resetting the timeline to its proper place in order to ensure you and his siblings could have the lives you deserved was always the end goal. But after spending his entire existence trying to complete that task, he finds it hard to adjust to his new life of normalcy. Perhaps he’s not exactly scared of becoming a parent, but scared of what a baby would mean in the grand scheme of things. It would be proof that his work is truly over now, that he can turn his survival mode off after having it set to fight for so many years, and that’s a big adjustment for someone like him.

But when he looks at your hopeful gaze and sees the way you anxiously worry your lip between your teeth, he realizes that he’ll do anything to give you the happy life you deserve. He brings one of your hands to his lips and holds it tight as he murmurs his answer into the skin of your palm.

“If you think we’re ready, then I’m in.”

“You mean it?” You gasp while doing your best to withhold your excitement. Your eyes are wide and full of hope as Five lets out a soft chuckle before giving you a reassuring kiss.

“We survived the end of the world several times, how scary could raising a baby really be?”

He isn’t given an answer to his hypothetical question as you fling yourself into his arms and assault his face with multiple kisses along his skin. It’s safe to say his answer has eased your anxieties, and the boy can only laugh as you express your gratitude.

“I’m so happy you agree!” You exclaim giddily, your hands coming to rest upon his chest to ground yourself as you then suggest to Five’s surprise, “Let’s start trying tonight!”

“What?”

~~~

“That has to be the tiniest Hargreeves I’ve ever seen,” Klaus gushes adoringly as he takes in the details of the ultrasound photo in front of him. “Look at the little peanut, isn’t it precious?”

“I can’t believe Five is actually going to be a dad,” Allison notes in astonishment as the three of you turn your gaze to see him arguing with Diego over the proper way to baby proof your home while Ben eggs them on and ruins Luther’s efforts at trying to keep the peace. You’re only two months along, but Five is anxious to ensure that everything is perfect for your child’s arrival.

“You know, you might just be the first 65 year-old woman to give birth,” Klaus points out cheekily. “You should be in a world records book or something.”

“Very funny,” you retort sarcastically before taking back the ultrasound photo to hang up on the fridge. You falter for a moment when your eyes remain stuck to photo and your brain works on overdrive to commit the image to memory as best as you can.

“Everything okay?” Viktor asks after noticing the sudden change in demeanor.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” you murmur quietly, blinking back tears that threaten to spill. “After everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve lost, I guess a part of me worries that one day I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.”

“I know how that feels,” Allison assures you with a comforting squeeze to your shoulder. “But I promise you this isn’t a dream, and whatever you need we’ll be there.”

“Because you’re family now,” Viktor adds on with a confident nod. “And we look out for family no matter what.”

“Even though at one point in our lives we’ve all thought about killing each other,” Klaus notes humorously before giving you a tight squeeze.

“Everything okay over here?” Five asks, appearing at your side and placing a comforting hand on your back as you all turn your gazes towards the fridge and admire the newest addition to the family.

“Everything is perfect.”

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

this is entirely @tame-the-lion-writes fault for giving me brain worms lol

it really does start with kyle-- he's the bird, he can scope out the area the 141 are staying for the time being. what he doesn't expect is you, the pretty thing fixing up one of the cabins near them. he starts to hang around, becomes noticed by you (especially when he leaves you trinkets on the porch). johnny is next, he follows kyle to see where he goes when he disappears for hours. johnny plunges in faster than kyle. he's rumbling through drawers and sleeping in your blankets not too far along while kyle perches on your desk chair. you're receptive but hesitant. should wild animals be this friendly?

it gets more concerning when there's a bear rolling around in your front yard. he pushes your mailbox down--then back up once he realizes it's down. he sticks his head through your kitchen window and demands toast. price wants in, the best way for that is being as harmless as possible. so letting gaz perch on him and soap sleep on him (grumpily). eventually he's rewarded with head pats and cuddles in the living room (thankful for the wide door).

simon is much more reluctant. you can see him lurking, following you from afar, but he only ever gets close if you're in need of help. one time another big dog snarled at you and he attacked it. another time he led you away from a burrow of snakes. you see him with the fox, who plays with his tail and nimbles his haunches, but that's about it. he'll sleep on the porch when the other three are inside. you leave him scraps and let him be distant for awhile. it's a trust exercise to get him to be near you, so when he eventually comes to lay at the door to your room and allows soft touches to his ears, you take the win.

they're surprisingly helpful. ghost will bring you your shoes and gaz retrieves earrings. soap picks out blouses while price decides how cohesive the outfit is. they're good at online shopping and johnny will hide in your bag when you go to pick it up. they like to "find" money for you so you don't feel as bad dressing up more. gaz learns to braid with his beak while simon lays his head on your thigh.

they've managed to explain their nicknames of "gaz" (fridge letters), soap (lots of soap bars with teeth marks), "ghost" (a bed sheet and the way he acts), and "price" (money, lots of it, with help from the fridge letters).

they're not sure how to broach the "shifter" topic, so they don't for the time being. they take care of you in the ways they can, you bandage their paws and offer forehead kisses.

[victorluvsalice]

-->Finally, after many hours of practice, Shadow did officially learn how to fetch! Victor rewarded his dog with a nice treat, then went to get a nice treat himself -- a slice of fruit pie for breakfast in the greenhouse! Alice for her part started the laundry while Smiler went around putting all their own herbalism potions and the ones that visitors had left on the porch away (you use our grill to concoct things, we’re taking ‘em for our own) --

-->And then, properly attired in some hot-weather gear, Alice went out and said hello to a bunny! Because I haven’t really done anything with befriending wild animals yet, and if anyone should make friends with a bunny, it’s Alice. Sadly, the conversation didn’t last long, mostly because Victor couldn’t resist coming out and chatting to his beloved wife. In his Jungle Adventures exploration gear. XD Admittedly, I DID assign that as hot-weather wear. . . I decided that the outfit also worked as gardening wear and -- once he was done with his pie, sent him back into the greenhouse to give Elmer a hand in battling all those weeds and bugs. Alice and Smiler hung out nearby for a while -- Smiler grabbing a bottle of PlasmaFizz to relieve their thirst a bit, and both of them calling their jobs -- Alice just to take a vacation day, while Smiler just straight up and quit. I haven’t had them go in ages, and they’d ALMOST used up all their vacation days, so it was time. Don’t really need the fishing money anyhow, now that they’re focusing on their own store!

-->And then -- ping-pong! Yeah, Smiler and Alice randomly decided they wanted to play, and I was like “you know what, go ahead.” Good proof that the spot that I’d picked for the table actually worked. They had a solid game, smacking the little orange jpeg of a ball back and forth, but Alice proved to be a better shot than Smiler and won the game. Smiler, ever the good sport, asked Alice to put ‘er there --

-->And zapped her with a hand buzzer, because it WAS Prank Day. XD Alice was a good sport and laughed about it before getting them back with “What’s that spot?” and flicking their chin when they looked down. XD It’s a wholesome metamour relationship they’ve got going on!

[gutsby]

Easy to Please

Pairing: Sleazy Landlord!Joel x Reader

Summary: Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Dubcon à la power imbalance / sex for money. Infidelity. Pervy!Joel. Talks of abuse. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: This fic was loosely inspired by my three favorite songs about female adultery—‘Thinkin’ Bout Cheatin’ by Mae Estes, ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles, and ‘Cheatin’ Songs’ by Midland. No, I don’t support infidelity. Yes, it makes for fun fiction.

Word count: 3.1k

You hate the face he makes when he cums.

You hate the way he tastes when he’s done.

You hate the grit and the heft of the man, every lone hair that sprouts silver from his chest, and the way he pats the open space beside him in bed after you roll away.

‘Never seen a girl so goddamn allergic to cuddling!’

What makes his observation worse is that you know you’re hating it more and more with every passing day.

Today you have seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson tucked into your purse. You walk with a sluggish gait, knowing you’re $310 short of making this month’s rent and last. But you go on anyway. It’s not like Joel can’t see you from where he’s seated on the porch.

The pleasantries you exchange are short. By now, you have only to breeze past him in his lawn chair and say, ‘I can’t stay long,’ and he knows the rest. He grabs his six-pack, then his Pall Malls, and asks after you all the same.

“How’s the wrist?” he says.

You sprained it over the weekend. You aren’t sure how he heard. At any rate, you ignore the question and set your bag down on the counter before going to the fridge. You deflect with a question of your own—what the hell happened to the lemonade? He had a full jug last week.

“Got thirsty,” Joel answers, shrugging.

You’re always thirsty, you tell him, and you eye the case of Heineken that he’s placed by your purse. You don’t need to see his face to feel the smile starting to form.

“Don’t I know it,” he says. Insinuating.

You’d hit him over the head if you’d been able to reach. He’s still smiling when your shoulder checks his—closer to his elbow, from the feel of it—and when you leave the kitchen, he leaves too. He trails behind you with an ease that says this is the sixth time this has happened since August, and you’re hardly a week out from Halloween.

It’s not just rent you need to pay; it’s other things. Transmission in your truck’s gone to shit. Phone’s been on the fritz since you dropped it in the tub. Talking heads on TV say the country’s on track to get hit with another recession, and from the way your boss has been slashing your hours in half, you think they may be right. The crack in your bathroom window was tiny last week. Today it’s gone, because your husband put his fist through the thing on Sunday. You patched the hole with duct tape.

Joel’s covering the cost for the pane to be replaced, but that’s because he has to. He’s your landlord—proud owner of the Delta Commons trailer park since ‘97—and that’s what landlords do. Everything else is yours to pay.

You’re a part-time student, part-time waitress, and a full-time caretaker for your ailing spouse, or so you call him. Joel knows Stetson’s not sick, just perennially unemployed and drunk. You pay for most things, and it’s rarely enough to cover your rent. Stetson doesn’t care.

And that’s where Joel comes in.

No pun intended, but in his mind, there’s really no nicer way to say it: you fuck his brains out to make up for the shortfall in rent. You blow him before work to make sure your husband and you will have enough to eat that week. You bite the warm, freckled skin between his shoulder and his neck while you ride him, because you know that gesture will get you a little extra cash when you leave. You smile after swallowing him, and Joel knows that it tastes like shit. You’ve gotten good at faking it lately.

What he hopes isn’t totally fabricated is the way you call him big. Strong. Handsome. So stupidly well-endowed that you have to wince for the first few seconds when you sit on it, and go slow when he takes you from behind

“O-ow!” you whine presently.

His dick isn’t even in you yet. You just stubbed your toe on the edge of his dresser on your way to the bathroom.

“You alright?”

“Fuck me!”

I will, he thinks.

“Want me to get an ice—”

“Let go-OW! FUCK!”

Joel barely even touched your wrist and you were flinching away with a brand new pain. You rub it, almost defensively, then pin him with an icy glare. Nice going.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Now he’ll be lucky if he can swing a half-hearted handy from the one that isn’t hurt. That’s how mad you look.

You turn your body away, and for a second, Joel assumes that his fate has been sealed: you’ll bumble over to the rug by his bed, toss a pillow on the floor, and assume what he already knows to be your least favorite position. You’ll kneel, and talk of migraines and your long, grueling day and in the end find an excuse not to use your mouth. That’ll be okay. But with the debts you owe him now, it also won’t be enough, and Joel will have to ask you back again. He hates sounding needy, but baby, deal’s a deal.

Luckily you don’t give him the chance to use that line. Much to his surprise, you get on the bed. You lie down. You seem to take a little more care settling in this time, but you take off your clothes. It’s a lime green tank top and some ratty jean skirt, but it’s enough to tempt him.

And not just tempt, but oblige him to accept, unblinking. He crawls over the bed to get to you, and he finds that his spit’s filling his mouth a little quicker. His hands are starting to shake as they slide over the duvet, and the tree trunks he once called his legs are runny, like eggs.

He has to remind himself, bluntly, of your last name, the shiny ring on your hand, your husband’s name, your—

“Age—what’d you say your age was again?” Joel asks.

You look confused for a second, but you tell him.

“Twenty-one.”

Way too fucking young to have gotten hitched three years ago. But then he remembers this is Leakey, Texas, and your family hasn’t strayed more than ten miles from the center of town in four generations. You told him that.

“I thought you said twenty,” Joel says, a little uneasy.

“I did. Up until this past Sunday I was.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Happy birthday.”

You blink.

“You gonna take your pants off or what?”

And he does. Maybe embarrassed at first, but then the jeans come off, and his boxers go next, and without so much as a word or a breath, his worries are sliding away like water off his back. Like his clothes now peeling off.

Like your smile growing thin at the sight of him half-stripped on the bed in front of you. Joel doesn’t flatter himself to think he’s even half as handsome as he was in his youth, but he knows he has his draws. What endears him to you today is, unfortunately, his wallet. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be convinced to like him more.

More than Stetson, he thinks without humor.

Dumb son of a bitch can’t tell his ass from his elbow and yet he’s won himself you, living it up these last three y—

“Oh.”

He sounds like an owl now. His clothes are off, and you’re rubbing him, pumping him gently in your hand, which you were so kind to make wet with your saliva. It even sounds better than his, the way it squelches with every flick. Joel can only say so much in strangled breaths.

He tries anyway:

“Feel like a dream, sweet pea.”

Sweet pea.

Your pace quickens. Joel swears he can see the corners of your lips twitch, but then he thinks you’re just wincing. You move down to the floor beside the bed. Kneel almost politely while you nestle yourself between his parted legs

Your mouth is warm. It’s always warm. Joel wouldn’t expect a girl’s tongue to greet his dick like ice, but yours is always heated to a thousand degrees, it feels like. He enjoys the sting. Your lips envelop his big, leaking tip, and he swears he can stay like this forever—in you.

On you, too. He’s got his palm resting flat on your head, and he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes. He bunches your hair in a fist and drags your face to make you swallow.

Mean old man, you must be saying in your head when he stuffs your mouth full. Makes your eyes prick with tears.

Sweet girl. My sweet pea, he thinks, affectionately, and continues to rub your scalp. He holds your teary gaze.

And then you’re moving up. Down. Coating his length with shiny spit and tiny whimpers as your lips move gently back and forth, again and again. Joel’s grip tightens in your hair, and he begs for more. More.

“More,” he orders, jaw clenched, “Fit a little more’a me.”

From where you’re kneeling below, you look put off.

Then you pull off, and you wipe your wet chin.

“Chokin’ me,” you grumble, “‘S’too big.”

Normally, Joel loves to hear that.

Now, however, he’s sliding his touch to your chin and tilting your head up to him. Thumbing at the spit dribbling out on either side of your mouth and subsequently coaxing your lips further apart.

He slides back in, and you don’t fight it. You like it. Holding his gaze in a soft, docile look while your lips stretch deliciously around his shaft, you must love it. Every inch and every twinge of pleasure from the brush of his cock going in and out must be your favorite thing.

Joel hopes it is, anyway. He holds your face now, and your throat convulses involuntarily. You’re so pretty.

“Such a good, sweet girl, ain’t ya?” he presses, watching the coarse grey hairs at the base of him tickle your face.

You respond well to praise. You preen under those words, and try to nod. But his cock is so deep down your throat you end up choking again. Joel watches all of it smiling.

Petting your head and not pushing again. Grinning.

“Love my cock nice and stuffed in that pretty throat?”

You blink instead of nodding, but it’s more than enough.

“Love me deep?”

And the head of him sinks somewhere he’s never been. Your eyes are like two wide pools, and your lips leak everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, your neck.

Joel’s smearing it all with his palm and smiling so wide that he thinks he might pull a muscle. He pants heavily.

“Just what you’re made for. Just what you need.”

You look like you might agree. He keeps going.

“My fuckin’ mouth. My pretty, pretty mouth.”

He holds your face. He thinks he might cum.

“Ain’t a damn thing Stetson can do for this mouth, huh?”

And then he doesn’t. Joel barely blinks, and you’re already bucking your head out of his hold, mouth skittering away while the spit spills out. You’re practically drenched down to the chest when your face rears back. Your eyes are alight and no longer smiling when you grit:

“Don’t.”

Joel should’ve known better.

He’s hit a raw nerve, and now he really wishes he hadn’t.

It doesn’t stop there—but it doesn’t get better, either. Things progress in much the same way as they always have but with none of the need, or the warmth, of before. You climb back up and straddle him quick. Not meeting his eye, you just sit down, and slide down, and don’t wince at all. You don’t tell him that he’s big, and he doesn’t get the chance to even groan at the first influx of pleasure before you’re riding him. Bouncing and grinding your hips against his with all the passion of someone perusing the newspaper. You don’t whimper or moan.

Of course, Joel enjoys the feeling. He also wants someone to punch him in the throat for what he’s done.

“Hey, hon—” he starts, voice strained, “Hon, I’m sorr—”

“Shut up,” you snap.

Your movements hardly falter, and now your hand is seizing the headboard. You’re clenching him tight inside your wet, drooling cunt, and it’s obvious you’re trying to make him cum as quickly as possible. You swallow hard.

Joel isn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, his body is being flooded with pleasure, and on the other, he fears you may never do this with him again. Quickly fixing on the latter, he cups your face in one hand. It’s still wet.

His fingers smear the spit, and somehow you look even prettier. You keep grinding your body in desperate little fits above him, and really, you feel fucking amazing, but Joel is too focused on other thoughts. He squeezes you.

“Baby—” he tries again, but you shush him just as fast.

Your hips are moving viciously now. No matter how sore your legs might have been from a long day toiling away—just a couple hours before your shift at your next job, if Joel’s remembering correctly—you’re working him well. Doing him in. Fucking his brains out, but you aren’t his.

His fingers smear the spit even more. Never will be his.

“Sweet pea—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

Now he can’t deny that his climax is close. But this isn’t how he wanted it to end—with you so incensed you can hardly look him in the eye. His hand rubs more, helpless.

And just when he’s seconds away from painting your insides white, losing it all to the pleasure, he sees it.

His wet, sticky touch has uncovered a residue.

Joel pulls his fingers away in a blink, and simultaneously, your eyes are fluttering closed. You’re focused now on climax; because of that, you don’t see what he sees.

What he’s stunned to find on his fingers: makeup.

Lots and lots of thick, heavy makeup on your cheeks. Concealer, he thinks he’s heard it called once or twice.

No matter the name, he quickly comes to see what it’s for. Just as you’re hitting your peak, squeezing the headboard behind him, and coming undone with a shockwave trembling all through your body, Joel pales.

The makeup that you applied so heavy tonight hides bruises. Black and blue and awful hues of greenish-purple too, your whole face, he sees, is engulfed.

He doesn’t speak. He won’t ask.

He won’t cum tonight, either.

He’ll finish something else.

You leave Joel’s trailer angry. You don’t say goodbye. The screen door screams shut behind you when you leave, and silently, you wonder why he didn’t cum. For once, you wish he had—and hadn’t said half of what he did.

Six hours pass like molasses, and by the end of it all—the close of your second shift—Stetson’s name still echoes in your head. The way Joel said it. It hums along the walls of your skull while you walk, and as you draw closer to home, you remember that strange and infuriating tone.

Then you remember your own less than two months ago:

Don’t talk to my husband. Don’t talk about my husband.

They were two simple rules, and Joel broke them both.

He must’ve defied the first when paying a visit to make repairs that week, and that’s when Stetson mentioned your hand: how you ‘slipped’ in the bath. Tripped and conveniently sprained your wrist the same night he almost tore your arm out of the socket for looking at a waiter a tad too long at dinner. You’d bet any sum of money Joel didn’t get to hear that part from Stetson when he came over to see about the window, though.

No, your twenty-first came and went without so much as a word about your wrist. Your arm. Your face—used to getting caked with concealer every third week or so.

You wince as you open the door. You walk slowly.

At first, you’re met with silence, and you sigh with relief. Then you hear it, and shortly drop your purse to the floor.

You all but fall down yourself at the sight: your husband doubled over across from you, in the kitchen. His head in his hands. You don’t need to see the face to know that it’s bleeding. Profusely. You tread ever slower into the room, thinking somehow, some way he’s going to blame this on you. And when he straightens a little and shows off the full, gruesome extent of his injuries, you blanch to think that it might be. His body’s been beaten to a pulp.

Your pulse hammers in your head so loud you can’t hear him groan. You see him, but you don’t really believe it.

And when Stetson reaches for you, you stagger back.

Your hands skim the counter, but your brain barely registers it. Your husband’s calling to you now, ‘Quit standin’ there lookin’ stupid, do somethin’, huh?!’ He’s screaming, and you’re not hearing it. Barely feeling like a sentient person at all but just a doll stumbling backward on two wooden legs. As you walk, your palm stays stuck to the laminate underneath it, and suddenly, you feel it.

An envelope.

In this state, you aren’t sure why you grab it, but you do.

You take the lone white paper, and you turn to leave. Your hands shake as you hold the thing, and your legs are hardly any better, but they carry you, miraculously, from the kitchen to the threshold of the back door. Then out. Stetson’s not just yelling but bellowing, loud, every last obscenity known to man as he holds his bloodied side and limps in his perilous, pathetic way. Fortunately, you’re gone just in time to miss the bottle he hurls.

Outside, you walk. And walk. And in the still of the night you’re obliged to find your way through a miscellany of trailers and trucks and old, creaking vans by moonlight, and the throbbing in your head begins to slow. You don’t rush to get far, and you don’t have your keys even if you wanted to drive off. You keep walking. Watching nothing.

When your eyes drift to the envelope in your hand, you barely see that either. You’re just blinking as you look, and breathing as you wait for the sight to make sense.

Inside, you find seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson staring back. Next to them are a few dozen others—enough to cover August, September, October, and several months before that, if you had to guess.

You hope you’ll get the opportunity to thank Joel, and maybe tell him that you don’t really hate him, someday.

[dollaches]

— tell me & i’ll be around

♡ farm! ellie williams x fem! reader

synopsis: with ellie working so hard in the sweltering heat of summer, you decide to treat her to a special night

a/n: first time writing on my phone dont be too harsh lol

warnings: domestic life, farm au, no apocalypse just lesbian sex, stressed ellie, tooth rotting fluff, alcohol consumption, established relationships, tradwife beginnings i fear, kissing, fingering (e! receiving), cunnilingus (e! receiving), sub top ellie i guess?? i dont know, mentions of spit, just porn with very poor plot

wc: 3k

Summer days brought along a sun that refused to yield, the farm consumed by a dry heat that was nearly unbearable. 

Unfortunately, it was a rather important time of the year for you and your girlfriend, as the animals needed tending to and the crops had to be monitored and well watered. But Ellie refused to let you do anything at all, her brows furrowing with hesitation whenever you pleaded to at least help her with the animals in the morning when the heat has not yet reached its peak. 

Yet time and time again, Ellie rejects your offer ever so gently, her voice as soft as butter melting on the hot asphalt as she speaks to you. “You know I feel better with you in the house, sugar. I don’t mind workin’ alone, plus I can’t have a pretty thing like you bein’ out in this heat now, can I?” 

She knew how to sweet talk you whenever you started overthinking, yet the memory of her words offered you no comfort as you watched her from the large window in the kitchen. You could see the way her thin white tanktop was clinging to her tanned skin, sweat soaking through the material so that you could almost see every detail of her toned body. She was working away, feeding all the animals one last time before turning in for the night. 

Her muscles tensed as she carried tin buckets of food out to the barn and you have to try your best to not get distracted, rushing into the kitchen to grab exactly what you knew she was going to be craving after a long day. 

You were going to spoil her and take care of her if it was the last thing you did, as she deserves just as much attention as she gives to you. 

The sound of heavy footsteps on the porch makes you perk up, the wooden door creaking open before it slams shut. For a moment all you can hear is the soft whirring of the small fan that was in the kitchen, unable to see Ellie from your position in the kitchen. 

Her tired voice finally breaks the silence, the sound of her unlacing her boots being all too familiar. “You mind grabbin’ me a beer from the fridge, babydoll?” she asks before she lets out a sigh of relief as she falls back onto the fluffy couch residing in the living room. 

You were ecstatic with the little plan you had created, as it was already playing out perfectly. With her beer in hand, you make your way toward her as you try to mask your excitement. “Already have one ready for you, baby” you hum, the ice cold beer already popped open for her so she wouldn’t have to do anything but enjoy her drink after a long day. 

Ellie takes the bottle from your hands, a pleased grin on her features as she looks up at you from where she’s sitting. “Well look at you, so smart” she praises smoothly, always finding a way to make your tummy fill with butterflies. 

Her freckled cheeks are all rosy from being out in the sun and you can’t help but frown in the slightest as she sips her beer, knowing that she must be exhausted. After a long sip, Ellie glances at you and a look of worry appears as she takes notice of your distress. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” she asks gently, one hand keeping a firm hold on the glass bottle while the other reaches out to carefully pull you onto her lap. There is no roughness in her touch, only an indescribable tenderness that left you feeling warm inside. 

You’re quick to give her a reassuring smile, shaking your head as you get comfortable on her lap as she leans back on the couch to relax. “Nothing really, just thinking maybe you want a massage after working so hard all day” you suggest, not wanting her to be pestered by your concerns for her well being, as you’d rather focus on actively taking care of her. 

A goofy grin appears on Ellie’s lips, an airy chuckle coming quickly afterwards. “A massage?” she questions, seeming surprised at the suggestion. “You must be spoiling me tonight, hm?” she muses in a playful manner. 

Although she was absolutely right. 

Tonight would be about her and her only, as she spoiled you rotten every single day and she was more than overdue for some extra attention and care. 

You just give a small shrug, your fingers lightly tracing shapes on the soft skin of her neck, small beads of sweat still rolling down her skin even after being inside for a bit. “Just think you deserve something special” you hum, not wanting to pressure her into anything at all. 

Your gentle tone is enough to make Ellie’s shoulders relax, unknowingly leaning into your touch as you graze her skin with your fingertips. “I’d really love that, sugar” she mutters, letting out a soft sigh as she finishes up her beer. 

Her agreement is enough to make your heart soar with excitement, as all you want to do is help her feel good. “Your wish is my command” you state in a playful tone, always seeming to fall into the roll of a housewife when you were with Ellie. 

With a quick kiss to her cheek, you pluck the empty beer bottle from her hands and head to the kitchen to dispose of it. “How bout’ you go take a real quick shower to relax and I’ll be waiting for you as soon as you’re done” you suggest, calling out to her from the kitchen. 

Ellie lets out a small huff at the suggestion, never enjoying getting cleaned up after a long day. Nonetheless, she stands to her feet, stretching her arms above her head before glancing in the direction of the kitchen. “You’re not comin’ with?” she asks in her usual southern drawl, a bit pouty since you usually did join her. 

“I’ll be waiting in the room once you’re all done, promise!” you chirp happily, reassuring her enough to make her head up the creaky stairs one by one so that she can reach the upstairs bathroom. 

You set the empty bottle on the counter and wait until you hear the water start up before you begin to walk up the stairs. Quickly discarding your clothes onto the floor, you change into a light blue babydoll nightgown that just so happened to be Ellie’s favorite one to see you in. Tonight was supposed to be a treat for her after all so you wanted every detail to be perfect. 

You only have to wait a few more minutes after settling onto your shared plush bed, the water cutting off as Ellie finishes up. The anticipation is almost killing you, the excitement of being able to do something for her making you dizzy with delight. 

Finally, she exits the steamy bathroom, a loose white t-shirt and red plaid boxers being her pajamas of choice for the night. Her short hair still has droplets of water that seep into the fabric of her shirt as she walks towards you, yet she doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

Within a second of seeing you, she is already smiling brightly, treating you as if you were God’s gift to this planet. “You got all dolled up just for me, baby?” she questions, even if she already knew the answer. 

You nod eagerly as she settles on the bed, guiding her so that she’s sitting up with her back facing your chest, settling comfortably between your legs. “Course’ I did” you reply with a sugary sweet tone, your hands smoothing over her shoulders and gently tracing down her biceps ever so gently. 

Your touch alone is enough to have her melting, completely under your control when you have her like this. You make quick work of beginning the massage, delicate hands kneading her shoulders to help relieve some tension. A low moan escapes her lips, relief washing over her after a long day in the scorching heat. 

“My poor baby, working all day just to take care of me” you coo, purposely placing your lips next to her ear so your breath fans against her sensitive neck. Your words make Ellie’s mind go fuzzy and all she can do is nod, her voice almost sounding like a whimper. “S’ so hot today, too hot” she states, groaning a bit as you slide your hands underneath her shirt so you can really soothe her aching back. 

“I know, I know. But you did so well, always making me so proud” you coo, knowing just how to get inside her head and make her mind quiet down so that she can relax completely. Your words of praise go straight to her head and she is reduced to a complete mess, a soft groan being tugged from her lips as you press wet kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Bet you want some relief after all that hard work, hm? Want me to help make you feel good?” you question softly, only to be met with an overly eager nod from her. “Need your help, doll. So tired, I just need you” she sighs, her head tilting back so that you can gently nibble at the soft skin of her neck to leave little marks that she would wear proudly the next few days. 

Her words make you feel ecstatic, her tone proof of your ability to help soothe her. You give a little “awh” before pressing one last kiss to her neck before helping her change positions, having her lean back against the countless fluffy pillows that littered the bed so that she could get comfortable. 

Intimacy seemed to come naturally to the two of you so there is no hesitation when Ellie lifts her hips for you so that you can carefully slide down her boxers, discarding them onto the floor so they are completely out of your way. You settle on your tummy between her thighs, nearly drooling at the sight of her. 

Yet you remind yourself to take things slow, to please her as much as you possibly can. You glance up at her only to find that she is already looking down at you, a dazed smile crossing her features at how perfect you look when you’re between her legs. 

You make an effort to keep eye contact as you pepper her inner thighs with small kisses, some quick pecks while others are slow and wet, your tongue lapping at her warm skin. The gasps she lets out are enough to fuel the fire that burns within your tummy, your eyes finally flickering downward to focus on the task at hand. 

The need to bring her pleasure is overwhelming and yet you manage to take things slow for her sake, not wanting to overwhelm her at any point. “That’s it, baby, relax for me” you hum, your breath warm against her aching cunt as she spreads her legs open a bit further for you. 

Your words only make her whinier and you can’t help but feel pleased with your ability to make the big and tough Ellie nothing more than a whimpering mess. You spread her open, wanting to see all of her before you got started. 

“Tell me what you need, wanna hear you say it” you plead, wanting to hear it for yourself. Ellie doesn’t protest at all, her arm covering her face as she pants from the feeling of being so exposed to you. “Fuck, need you to eat me out. Wanna feel that pretty tongue of yours on my cunt” she huffs out, the filthy words sounding heavenly as they roll off her tongue. 

That’s all you need before you get to work, licking a long stripe up her pussy slow enough to make her feel weak. She lets out the sweetest moan you’ve ever heard and you feel much more confident in your ability to give her the pleasure she deserves. 

Small kitten licks ensue, as you know she enjoys being teased. You give her just enough to keep her pleading for more, your tongue circling around her clit yet never properly brushing against it. “C’mon, fuck, just a little more” she pleade breathlessly, her lips parting to take in as much air as she can possibly get. 

Ellie isn’t one to beg too often, preferring to keep a tough facade. With this knowledge, you know she must be incredibly needy to be acting this way and you weren’t going to punish her for doing so. Obeying her pleas, you decide to give her even more than she asked for, closing your lips around her clit and sucking softly. 

The pressure has her crying out, every curse in the book being muttered by her as she squirms under your touch. “Just like that, sugar. So good for me” she praises, managing to make your heart flutter even with your face buried in her cunt. 

You keep it up for a bit before refocusing your attention on her slit, pressing your tongue against her perfectly so that you can fuck into her simply using her tongue. The angle seems to work perfectly, as your nose nudges her clit while you fuck her open, her saccharine taste making your mind go completely blank. 

Ellie has never been a patient person and now is no different, rocking her hips in time with the thrusts of your tongue, practically fucking your face just to get what she wants. It’s not as if you mind, as you’re simply here to appease her. 

You want to bring her to the edge, knowing just how to get her there. She lets out a whine when you pull your tongue away, looking down at you with furrowed brows, seeming as if she was about to scold you for having the audacity to stop. 

But she never gets the chance, as you spit on her already slick cunt before circling a finger around her entrance. The spit is simply to ensure that your finger can easily push into her— not to mention she gets off on you making a mess of her. 

With little effort you are able to push in your middle finger, watching the way her face contorts with pleasure as you open her up. “Look at how pretty you are, making the cutest sounds for me” you praise as she moans endlessly, the sounds broken by a gasp as you quickly add you ring finger just so she can feel a little bit of a stretch. 

“You take— holy shit, you take such good care of me, sweetheart” she mutters, her chest rising and falling at a quick pace in order to keep up with her need for oxygen. You can’t help but feel proud of yourself, leaning down to messily kiss her clit as you curl your fingers just right, the way her velvet walls cling to you being evidence of your expertise. 

You don’t need her to warn you, as you can tell that she’s about to cum just from the way her clit jumps in the slightest and how she tightens around your fingers. There is no need for words either, your eyes fluttering shut as you focus on her taste and scent, your senses consumed by her. 

With a loud curse and a mutter of your name, she is coming undone for you. Her hips twitch helplessly against your fingers and mouth, so sensitive as she rides out her high. You can’t help but moan as she makes a complete mess, a ring of her cream at the base of your fingers as you slowly ease them out. Before you completely pull away, you can’t help but give her sweet clit one last kiss. 

With no shame, you clean her juices off your fingers, a soft hum leaving your lips at the reward of your hard work. Poor Ellie can barely think, still trembling with over sensitivity as you lay beside her and give her a sweet kiss. 

It’s drawn out, your tongue brushing against hers so that you can prove to her that she tastes absolutely perfect, the dirty act only making you feel even closer to her. She moans against your lips, only pulling away when you’re both in need of air. 

She presses her slightly sweaty forehead against yours, a fucked out grin on her lips as you smile back at her, your lips coated with her slick and her spit. 

“You’re an angel, you know that?” she asks breathlessly, her heart aching with the love she feels for you. No one gives her attention and care the way you do and it’s as if you knew exactly what she needed to relax and come down after a hard day. 

“Just doing what I can to help since you won’t let me work with you” you mutter, lowering your hand to graze her soft tummy. She only hums in acknowledgment of your words, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Well thank you, sugar. You made all that stress melt away” she states in a pleased tone, her relief being your relief since you can finally relax while knowing that Ellie is content. “Anything for you, Els. Just come to me when things are too much, okay? I know you wanna take care of me but I wanna take care of you too” you whisper, giving her a reassuring smile. 

She nods gently, pulling your body closer to her own right before she covers your face in kisses that tickle in the slightest. “Alright, alright, I promise I will” she finally agrees, her warm hand lowering to squeeze your ass a bit, as she had a tendency to be a bit grabby. 

“Now how bout’ I make you feel good after all that hard work” she suggests, mimicking what you had said to her earlier. The suggestion has you grinning and you know that tonight will be going on longer than planned. 

[jeonginsleftcheek]

My favorite person

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, neighbors/(fake) enemies to lovers au

word count: 6.7k

warnings: alcohol, swearing, smoking weed, cheesy flirting, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), squirting, cumshots, spanking, they're both desperate for each other and completely in love

a/n: had so much fun writing this omg! i love playful hannie sm and i hope y'all enjoy this too, consider a reblog if you did🩷

~check out my: Masterlist

It's almost midnight when Jisung's tired and aching legs slowly carry him towards his house. He has music in his ears and he's whistling lowly in the empty street.

It's still warm, the summer sun is unforgiving during the day, burning every surface up, stealing the freshness of the night.

Jisung can't wait to take all his greasy clothes off (courtesy of working in a fast food restaurant) and hop in the shower to wash the day off.

As he nears his house, he sees you sitting on your porch, wearing an oversized shirt, your hair in a messy bun, your sandals thrown aside and a can of beer in your hand.

He waves and you roll your eyes as you take another sip of your beverage.

"Came to bother me?"- you ask as he lowers his headphones to rest them around his neck.

"Ofcourse, you know that's my favorite hobby."- he smirks, leaning on the railing in front of you.

"You're blocking my view."- you lean to the left, trying to look behind him.

"Of what?"- he turns to look.

"The street."

"There's nothing on the street."- Jisung pouts.

"Still more interesting than you."- you quip.

"Wow, hostile much?"

"You know me."- you shrug with a smirk and he chuckles.

"You got another one of those?"- Jisung points at the beer in your hand.

"For you? No."- you continue smirking.

"Liar."- he smirks back at you. "I know for a fact your fridge is full of that crap."

"You know, it was nice and quiet before you came around."- you sigh.

"Well, I'm here to disrupt your peace."- he says and you groan with a smile as he sits next to you.

"You stink for real."- your face scrunches up as you scoot away from him.

"Mm, the smell of a working man."- Jisung leans towards you, draping his arm on your shoulders and you shake him off with a look of disgust.

"Ew, go shower."- you shove him away and he laughs.

"Alright I was going to anyways. I'll be done in 10."- he gets up before you can answer and you watch his silly little legs walking away from you.

Most of the time you want to smack Jisung, but sometimes he's a nice distraction from the thoughts swirling in your mind and the shitty world around you.

You don't wait for him though, throwing the empty beer can in the trash and padding back to your house. You close the door with a thud and sit in your living room, your fan is placed right in front of your face as you exhale.

"Fuck this heat."- you mutter to yourself, the sound of that annoying commercial voice from the TV blending into the background, behind the droning noise of the fan.

You almost fall asleep sitting like that but your door swings open suddenly and it jolts you awake. You don't have to look to know whose footsteps are echoing in your house.

"Finally refreshed."- it's Jisung and he grabs a beer from your fridge and then sits on your couch like it's his house.

His hair is still wet and messy, droplets of water sliding down his neck towards the white Sonic Youth shirt he's wearing.

You don't mean to stare but you do for a moment until the sound of him opening the can of beer snaps you out of your thoughts.

"That's my shirt, you thief!"- you point your finger at him and he laughs annoyingly.

"Doesn't have your name written anywhere on it."- he shrugs and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

"Obnoxious."- you mutter but he ignores your little quips as always.

"I'm not stinky anymore."- he smirks at you, his arm around your shoulders again and you whine, moving his arm away.

"All boys are stinky. And why are you drinking beer? I'm not gonna hold back your hair when you start puking, you lightweight."- you shove him playfully and he almost chokes on the sip he's taking.

"I'm not gonna puke, okay? I will be completely fine and sober after this."- he says matter-of-factly as he brings the can up.

"You would've been better off drinking some milk, baby."- you tease him and he chuckles.

"Baby, huh?"- he smirks, his face closer to yours.

"Yes baby, like an infant. A child. Now get out of my personal space."- you press your fingertips into his forehead and push him away.

"Damn, keep being mean to me and you won't get any of this."- Jisung waves a baggy in front of your face.

"Oh, now you're talking."- you smirk and he laughs at you.

"I'm not so stinky anymore, am I?"- he wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're still stinky."- you say, reaching for the baggy but he snatches it away.

"Give it here!"- you yell out and he giggles as he keeps moving the baggy away from you while you try to catch it.

You kneel on the couch, trying to grab it with your flailing hands but he moves his arm away again, making you lose your balance as you basically fall into his lap.

"Hello there."- Jisung smirks, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Ew."- you scramble to get off him, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

"Okay, okay, you can roll."- he reaches the baggy towards you and you grab it but he keeps holding onto it.

"Jisung."- you warn.

"Give me a kiss and I'll give you the baggy."

"Quit blackmailing me with kisses. Never gonna happen."- you say as he chuckles, the little bastard.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, here. For real now."- he gives you the baggy and you get to work.

Jisung watches you as you concentrate, your brows slightly furrowed and your tongue poking out between your lips.

He licks his lips unconsciously, thoughts of tasting you have been on his mind ever since he first saw you when he moved next door.

You were a mess back then and sometimes you still are but Jisung loves the mess you are, he loves that you don't try to pretend to be okay when you're not, he loves that you don't take anyone's shit and always fight for yourself, he loves the fact that you're just so unapologetically yourself that you don't mind crying in front of him.

"Earth to stinky. Give me your lighter."- your voice breaks his daydreaming and he rolls his eyes playfully at the nickname before handing you the lighter.

The first two inhales already make you a little floaty, waves of relaxation slowly traveling through your body. Just what you needed after the day you had.

Your music plays in the background, the shared playlist Jisung and you have on spotify. The two of you are sprawled on the couch in front of your fan, the smoke from the blunt swirling in different patterns as Jisung drapes his leg over your lap.

"You wanna do shotgun?"- he asks, looking at you with his eyelids droopy and eyes red and you mirror his expression.

"It's gonna have to be a no."- you say with a snicker.

"Whyyyy?"- he whines, bringing his other leg up to rest it on your lap too.

"Because I know it's another one of your ways to try and kiss me."- you say with a dopey smile, your mind floaty and cloudy as you stare at Jisung's face, a goofy smile on his lips, his puffy cheeks looking extra squishy. You want to bite him.

"You're not getting in my pants."- you add and he laughs at you.

"We'll see about that."- he wiggles his eyebrows and the expression on his face just makes you laugh.

It's dumb but both of you have a fit of laughter and you forget all your worries, and Jisung scoots closer to you, he leans his head on your shoulder and plays with your fingers.

You want to protest and tell him to get his stinky self away from you but the weight of his legs on you and the way he gently touches your hand coupled with the effects of the weed bring you closer to the sleep you so badly crave.

-

"Ouch."- is the first thing that comes out of your mouth the next morning, the sunlight blinding you as soon as you open your eyes.

You feel dehydrated, sweaty and disoriented as you blink slowly, squinting your eyes as you look around. Somehow you ended up in your room, and judging by the snoring and the warm body attached to you, it was probably Jisung's doing.

You groan and try to escape his grasp but he wrapped both his arms and legs around you, clinging onto you like he never wants to let go.

You pinch his arm slightly and he stirs awake.

"What'd you do that for?"- his voice is deep and laced with sleep.

"Don't you have your own house?"- you ask.

"I like yours better."- he mutters, nuzzling into your neck. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he tightens his hold around you, his breath constantly tickling your skin.

"You're a pest."- you chuckle, wiggling away from him but you can't move at all.

"A pest who washes your dishes and brings you food. Hm, maybe you should consider being nice to me."- he lifts his upper body suddenly, staring down at you and you turn in his arms and look up at him.

You hate that your heart skips a beat when you see him first thing in the morning, his hair a mess of curls, eyes laced with sleep, his cute puffy cheeks and pouty lips, the shirt he stole from you messed up from sleeping, sliding down and revealing his skin.

"Get out of my bed."- you groan, wanting to run away far from him so you don't keep having these thoughts.

"That's not what you were saying last night."- he smirks.

"W-what do you mean?"- you stutter.

"Well, last night you were literally falling asleep on the couch and I asked if you want me to carry you to bed. You said yes so I did."- he keeps smirking. "And I was actually about to leave to sleep on your couch but you pulled me down and told me to stay here."

"Ugh. What did you put in that weed?"- your face is scrunched up as you finally free yourself from his hold.

"A love potion."- he narrows his eyes at you.

"I'm gonna go throw up."- you get up and Jisung's laughter echoes behind you as you make your way to the bathroom.

-

Working at the convenience store had you run into all sorts of people but it seemed that today every single annoying and rude person decided to shop.

You were this close to biting someone's head off, fuming as you stomped your feet to the bus station, some angry metal songs screaming into your ears.

The bus was also especially disgusting today, the smell of it making your stomach rise contantly coupled with a creepy old man staring at you the whole time made for a horrible ride home.

You practically ran from the station to your house, barging in as you opened the door. Forgot to lock up again, you think and shrug.

You almost trip over someone's legs and you're about to scream but the owner of the legs beats you to it.

"Jisung!"- you yell out, grabbing at your chest as he looks up at you, blinking innocently as he lays next to your couch on his stomach.

"You scared me so bad!"- he says and you shove his leg with your foot. The audacity.

"I scared you? You're in my house."- you put your hands on your hips, your eyebrows raising.

"You left it unlocked like always."- he says, his hands roaming under your couch.

"What the hell are you even doing?"- you ask confusedly.

"I'm looking for my lighter from last night! It's my favorite and I couldn't find it anywhere this morning so it has to be here somewhere."- he explains as he continues looking.

"We'll find it, no need to cry."- you chuckle, teasing him.

"I'm not crying. Yet."- he jokes and you laugh as he stands up, brushing off his pants.

"Oh, you look like shit."- he says as he finally looks at you closely.

"Wow, thanks."- you smack his arm and he squeals dramatically, grabbing at it.

"Sorry, I meant you look like you've had a bad day."- he says.

"I'm still having it."

"Not even my cute face makes it better?"- he pouts at you, batting his eyelashes.

"That makes it even worse."- you say, making a disgusted face. "Go to work Jisung and stop bothering me, I need to have the afternoon to myself."- you add, whining.

"So that means I'll come back after my shift."- he smirks.

"Only if you shower first."- you joke and he chuckles.

"Ofcourse. Now come here and let me give you a hug, you need one."- Jisung opens his arms.

"I really don't."- you shake your head at him.

"Yes, you really do."

"If you hug me I'll smack you!"

"Is that a promise?"- he smirks and you give in with a groan and let him wrap his arms around you.

You can truly never win, you always end up giving into his hugs and cuddles, knowing somewhere in the back of your mind that you crave to be close to him.

-

You had the whole afternoon planned out, cleaning up, doing some self care, taking a nap and then cooking dinner.

You ended up feeling sad and deflated, so you just stood under the shower, hoping that the water will somehow wash out the shitty day you had.

Fatigue got the better of you and you ended up falling asleep on your couch.

You stir awake, hearing the rustling of plastic bags and then a thud followed by Jisung cursing under his breath.

You lift your head up, squinting at him as he slowly walks towards you.

"Oh hey, did I wake you up?"- he asks gently.

"Yeah, kinda."- you say, feeling dizzy from the heat as you slowly sit up, wondering what day it is.

"I'm sorry."- he says as he puts the bags down.

"I hope this makes up for it. I brought you your favorite from work and I put extra love in it."- he smiles cutely and you really want to smack him in that moment, but in a good way.

"I'll think about forgiving you."- you tease and he chuckles.

"I'm gonna go shower and then I'll come hang with you."- he says.

"You mean annoy me?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."- he smirks.

You open up the bags and dig in immediately, your stomach growling at the sight of food.

Jisung comes back some 15 minutes later, practically skipping to you and throwing himself on the couch next to you, making you bounce a little.

"I left you some fries."- you say as you sip on your Coke.

"No, no, eat it all. I already ate at work."- he quickly shakes his head.

"Okay, don't need to tell me twice."- you start eating again and Jisung smiles at you adoringly.

"You won't believe the day I had."- he says when he snaps out of his trance.

"Tell me about it, I was this close to murdering someone."- you grumble.

"This woman came in and she returned her order 3 times, telling us it's not what she ordered when we clearly heard her say the order. Like we're some kind of five star restaurant not a freaking burger joint."

"Did she ask to talk to the manager?"- you snicker as you finish eating and lean back.

"Ofcourse she did, fucking Karen."- Jisung rolls his eyes and you laugh.

"The amount of those I had in the shop today. Not people making a fuss over yoghurt and milk, like I can't deal with them anymore. They wanna make petty drama where there is none. I wish I could just take a vacation away from everything."- you sigh and Jisung scoots closer to you, turning his body towards yours.

"Me too. I need a break."- he says and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat when you realize how close his face is to yours.

"Let's run away."- he says suddenly and you laugh.

"We don't have any money to do that."- you say as you both lean on the headrest of your couch.

"We'll find a way. We can... juggle! Or sing on the street! Or you can read tarot cards!"- he flails his arms and you laugh, your giggles making Jisung's stomach swarm with butterflies.

"Keep pulling suggestions out of your ass."- you shake your head and he chuckles. "It's entertaining."

"But I'm for real. I would run away with you any time you asked. Like I'd pack my bags right now if you just said the word."- he says, his hand somehow finding yours.

"Where would we go?"- you ask, your fingers slotting between his.

"Anywhere we want. We would never stay in one place, we'd always look for new adventures. It would be me and you against the world."- he smiles, his boba eyes shiny as he looks at you.

"That sounds so nice."- your eyes fall to his lips. He's so close and it's so tempting but something inside you never lets you close that gap, mentally or physically.

Jisung's cheeks heat up as he catches you staring at his lips.

"But, it's just a fantasy."- you move away suddenly. "Real life is not like that. Real life is rude customers, exploitative bosses, barely making ends meet and this stupid heat that's making me feel even more disgusting."

"Way to bring the mood down."- Jisung snickers, squeezing your hand.

"You know me, y/n the party pooper."- you chuckle and he laughs.

"Oh but the party didn't even start yet!"- Jisung smirks and grabs the remote, turning the channels until he finds the commercial one, you always watch it together after midnight if you can't sleep, laughing at stupid stuff people sell.

"Oh my god!"- you chuckle. "This requires beer."

You go to get up but Jisung stops you.

"Let me."

"Damn, is Han Jisung actually a gentleman?"- you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"I'll have you know that I'm a perfect gentleman."

"Mhm, right. I'll see about that."- you say as he brings two cans of beer.

"Yes you will."- he smirks, sitting down next to you.

Someone is selling a gilded statue of a peacock, complete with different colored jewels all over it.

"So kitschy. Like who'd want that staring at them at their house? My eyes would hurt."- you say with disgust on your face.

"It would be funny to get it though."- Jisung says and you laugh.

"They still didn't reveal the price. How much do you think it costs?"- you ask as the woman on the tv describes the kitschy statue and the materials it's made of.

"Why don't you take a guess? If you guess right, I'll do anything you ask of me and if you're way off you have to kiss me."- Jisung smirks and you smack his thigh.

"Again with the kissing! Fine! Let's do it. I guess 200 dollars."- you say annoyed and he laughs at you as he rubs his thigh.

"Alright, I guess 300 dollars."- he says.

You wait for the reveal in anticipation, and when the woman says 350 dollars, you freeze.

"Guess I owe you a kiss."- you sigh and turn towards Jisung.

He lookes completely and utterly bamboozled, his lips falling open as he stares at you, not blinking.

"Jisung?"- you wave a hand in front of his face.

"Right."- Jisung laughs, thinking you're joking around so he puckers his lips towards you, exaggerating for the effect, his eyes closed.

"Ji, please be normal about this."- you warn him, your hand on his and his eyes snap open.

"W-we're actually gonna kiss?! You're actually gonna kiss me?!"- he freaks out suddenly, his eyes widdened.

"A bet is a bet."- you shrug with a smirk, but on the inside you're freaking out the same way Jisung is.

"I'll take it."- he nods quickly.

"Why don't you start breathing first?"- you laugh, scooting closer to him so your knees are touching.

"Right, breathing, that's like important."- he says and takes a deep breath in as you giggle at him.

It's almost 2am and you decide to throw everything out the window as you lean in closer to Jisung's face. You can hear his breath hitch as you gently brush your lips on his.

Without any more stalling, you finally close the gap and press your lips into his. Your mind feels dizzy instantly, his lips are so soft and pliant against yours as he kisses you back eagerly.

You can feel the relief in his movements, like he was waiting for this for so long, and frankly so were you.

His hand ends up on your waist and you cup his face, some kind of hunger brewing inside you as you deepen the kiss, your tongue prying his lips open, making him moan.

His arms wrap around you as your tongues fight for dominance, making the kiss needy and messy, your teeth clashing and spit dribbling down your chin.

When you part for air both of you look dazed and Jisung squirms uncomfortably as he looks down. Your eyes follow his gaze and you chuckle at the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

"Really, Ji? One kiss is all it takes to have you this turned on?"- you grab his thigh and he jolts, gasping as he looks up at you.

"Don't make fun of me! It's your fault anyways."

"Oh it is, hm?"- you smirk, massaging his inner thigh, making his hips lift up for some kind of friction.

"Yeah, so help me get rid of it?"- he blinks at you with those puppy eyes of his, a cute pout on his lips for added effect.

The little manipulator.

"You're a horny little boy, Ji."- you chuckle, hooking your fingers in his pants and he gasps.

"Woah, you're going straight for it?!"- he panicks.

"What, do you want me to introduce myself to it first? State my name and business?"- you snicker and he laughs, smacking your arm.

"You make me feel so self-conscious just so you know."- Jisung groans as his head falls back and he covers his eyes with his arm.

"Aw, baby is shy."- you coo and pull his pants down in one swift move.

Jisung whines as his cock smacks against his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight.

"Damn, didn't know you were packing this much."- you say, your hand instantly wrapping around his throbbing member, the pre-cum already lubing your hand up as it dribbles down.

"Ahh, don't say shit like that. I'm gonna cum."- he whimpers and you laugh as you squeeze his cock, making his hips jolt upwards into your hand.

"Already? I didn't even do anything."- you smirk, running your thumb through his slit, playing with the pre-cum oozing out of it.

"Yes you did. You're... you."- he says.

"What does that mean?"- you chuckle, playing with the sensitive underside of his head, making his cock twitch in your hold.

"Means anything you do gets me hot."- he whines.

"Oh yeah? Is that why you can't look at me, Ji?"- you tease, grabbing his arm and trying to pry it off of his face.

He just whines and doesn't budge.

"Look at me, Jisung."- you say sternly, squeezing his cock again.

"Ah, fuck!"- he whines and finally looks at you.

His face is red in arousal and embarassment and you chuckle at the state of him.

"Keep your eyes on me."- you order, moving your hand up and down.

"Oh my god, y/n."- he whimpers, instantly looking down at your hand pleasuring him.

"Eyes on me, baby."- you warn again and he looks at you quickly.

You manage to slide your tank top down and Jisung's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"I see you always staring at my breasts."- you smirk, your free hand coming up to play with your nipple. "Would you like to touch them?"

"Y-yes, yes I would!"- he whimpers as you speed up your movement on his painfully hard cock, the squelching sounds going straight to your core.

"Say please."- you smirk, leaning closer to him.

"Please! Please!"- he looks desperate as you tease him, your breasts almost on his face.

"Okay, you can touch."- you say and his hands are instantly squeezing your flesh, thumbs running over your nipples.

He looks fixated so you change up the rhythm of your hand, cupping his balls with your other hand.

"S-shit!"- Jisung moans loudly as his cock twitches hard in your hand, and he cums, ropes of white cum painting your hand and his thighs.

Both of you gasp and he whines, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"Well, that was quick."- you chuckle.

"Oh my god, that's so embarassing. Please don't laugh at me."- he mumbles behind his hands as you wipe yours clean.

"Hey, don't be embarassed."- you quickly grab his hands, moving them away from his face. "I think that was so fucking hot."

"R-really?"- he pouts.

"Well, yeah. Shows me how much you want me."- you say, your eyes full of lust.

"I do, I want you so bad. I-I can go for more rounds if you're down."- he says almost timidly and you really want to eat him up.

"Ofcourse. I hate unfinished business."- you waste no time as you take off your pants and Jisung is quick to take his shirt off.

"Stay like that. I wanna ride your pretty cock."- you narrow your eyes at him and he whimpers.

"God, please do!"- he says, his voice strained as you grab his sensitive cock.

You throw your leg over him and hover above him as you start jerking him off again.

"Touch me."- you grab his wrist and pull his hand towards your pussy, dripping with arousal and begging to be filled up.

He runs his fingers on your wet folds, rubbing your pussy and you let out a needy moan as you grind against his fingers.

"Look who else is desperate."- Jisung smirks, feeling his chest swell with pride that he's the one making you feel like this.

"Shut up and put them in."- you groan, landing a light slap on his cock and he moans loudly, pushing his fingers inside your wetness as he squirms under your touch.

"D-don't make me cum yet."- he whimpers as you keep a steady pace on his cock while he starts fucking his fingers in and out of you, matching the speed of your hand.

"Ah, Jisung!"- you whine when he hits the spot inside you, making your legs shake.

The way you moaned his name got him twitching in your hand again. He speeds up and you grab his hand suddenly, stopping him.

"I don't want to fuck around anymore. I'm gonna fuck you now."- you smirk and he gulps, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and you aim his dick towards your entrance, sliding the wet head against your warmness.

Jisung plops his fingers in his mouth sucking on them and tasting your juices and you whine at the sight, sinking on his cock at the same time.

Jisung's head falls back as he pulls his fingers out with a pop, letting out a strained moan at the feeling of your velvety walls sliding down on his hard cock.

He grips your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck and start bouncing on him fast immediately, your thighs smacking down on his, your titties bouncing in his face.

Jisung starts whining desperately, he can't wrap his head around the fact that you're fucking on him so desperately, your nails digging into his back.

"Fuck me harder!"- he whines, pushing his hips up and you whimper as you fuck on him as fast and hard as you can. He follows your pace and meets your movements with his thrusts, pushing his cock so deep inside you that the tip presses into your cervix, making you see stars.

"Ah, Ji, you feel so good!"- you moan as you grip his shoulders, the couch creaking under the two of you fucking like some kind of feral animals.

"Mm you feel so good too. So tight around me."

Jisung digs his heels into your carpet and fucks you even harder, his hand landing a smack on your ass.

"Ow!"- you whimper and Jisung apologizes immediately, caressing your ass but he felt the way your pussy clenched around him when he spanked you.

"No, it's okay. Do it again."- you groan, barely catching a breath, your thighs are burning from all the exertion but the way his cock feels inside you beats the need to give your legs a rest.

Jisung's eyes are glazed over as he smacks you hard again, your hand tangles in his hair as you moan his name loudly. He leans in and captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it as he grips your ass, plummeting into your clenching hole.

You feel crazy as your orgasm hits you harder than ever before and you lift off of his dick just to squirt all over him.

"Jisung!"- you whimper and then look down realizing he's cumming too, just from the sight of you squirting and you grab his cock and help him get to his high.

"Ahh, y/n..."- he keeps moaning your name as you milk him dry, sweat covering both of your bodies, the fan behind you helping you cool down as goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Fuck that was so hot."- Jisung groans as the two of you cling to each other, not caring about the stickiness.

"Mhm."- you try to breathe as you lean your forehead on his shoulder.

"Can't believe I made you squirt."- he smirks and you lift up to look at him.

"Are you hard again?"- you chuckle in disbelief as you feel him grow beneath you.

"I told you I could go for more rounds."- he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Fine, let's go upstairs."- you stand up, wobbling on your feet a little and he helps you get steady.

"Really?"- he looks up at you cutely.

"Well, I'm not sleeping tonight."- you chuckle and he giggles as he lets you pull him up.

As soon as you get to your room, both of you fall into your bed and between the mess of sheets Jisung and you spend the night indulging in each other.

"I feel disgusting."- you whine 3 more rounds later as the two of you lay on your back and try to catch some breaths.

"Hey!"- he whines, smacking your thigh lightly and you laugh.

"Not like that. I mean the heat is disgusting. This really didn't help with that."- you look at him and he chuckles.

"I'd say it was worth it."- he smiles, his eyes hopeful and sparkly.

"I agree."- you nod and Jisung lifts up to give you a gentle kiss, contrast to the hungry and passionate kisses the two of you spent the night sharing.

It's almost 6am when the two of you are done cleaning up and changing the sheets.

"Are you gonna throw me out now?"- Jisung jokes as you lay down and he sits on your bed.

"Like that would work on you."- you chuckle and he laughs as he lays down.

"You know, my shift starts in two hours."- he says as he holds your hand.

"What?!"- you gasp and flick his forehead as he whines. "Why didn't you tell me you had the morning shift, you fool?"

"Well, I didn't want to lose what might've been my only chance."- he says quietly and you lean in and bite into his bicep making him yelp.

"What's that for?"- Jisung whimpers, grabbing at his arm.

"Nothing, you're just dumb and adorable. Now go to sleep."

-

You wake up around 11, the spot beside you empty and everything floods back into your mind, you can't believe you did all that sober.

A part of you feels embarassed but you know it was bound to happen sooner or later. Deep inside, you know you cared about Jisung a lot and you hoped he felt the same.

Losing him is unimaginable and even though he annoys you, you know you enjoy him 'bothering' you every day more than you would like to admit.

You're off work today so you finally gather the strength to clean up your whole house, and when you move your couch to vacuum, you see a little shiny lighter behind it.

You chuckle as you pick it up, it's Jisung's favorite lighter, one you covered with shiny stickers and heart doodles when both of you were high. You sigh and put it aside, wondering how Jisung will act today with you after everything that happened between the two of you last night.

You take a shower and a nap, and before long it's 5pm and your door swings open.

You're in the kitchen, finishing up on dinner as Jisung strolls in with a big smile on his face.

"Hey."- you say and he laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

"I missed you all day."- he says into your hair as he holds you tight and you wrap your arms around his dainty waist.

"Oh yeah?"- you smirk.

"Mhm."- he nuzzles into you. "I know you missed me too, admit it."- he adds and you chuckle as you both lean back to look at each other.

"Yeah, sure."- you tease him.

"I was gonna text you but um... my phone fell into the hot oil in our fryer."

"Oh my god Jisung! Stuff like that only happens to you."- you laugh and he shakes his head.

"Don't mock my troubles. I have to buy a new phone now."- he pouts.

"Why were you even looking at your phone near the hot oil?"- you chuckle, turning off the stove.

"I was... looking at your pics."- he says, his puffy cheeks rosy as he looks away.

"Ofcourse you were, you stalker."- you smack his arm. "Don't act all shy now, we're way pass that."- you add and he groans.

"You ruin every cute moment on purpose."- he pouts.

"And you bother me 24/7 but you don't hear me complain."- you tease.

"You complain all the time."- he snickers and you laugh.

"You don't mind, do you?"- you ask, hating that you feel vunerable in that moment but it's Jisung, your Jisung.

"Ofcourse I don't."- he says gently, sensing the shift in the tone and he leans closer to you, cupping your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"I think we're way pass that too."- both of you chuckle as your lips collide in a sweet, gentle kiss.

It doesn't take much time for the kiss to get heated, and for Jisung to push you against the kitchen elements.

"Woah, calm down big boy. Dinner first."- you smirk and he laughs.

"Alright, but just because you cooked. You even cleaned up, what gives? I made you so happy last night that you were on cloud 9 today?"- he teases you and you narrow your eyes at him.

"What if I was?"- you tease back, pinching his cheek and he whines, grabbing at it dramatically.

"I was too. That's why I put my phone into the fryer instead of the fries."- he confesses and you laugh loudly, grabbing at your stomach.

"Go ahead, laugh at my misery."- Jisung says, but he's smiling too.

"Sorry, that's just such a Jisung thing to do. Like somehow your lighter ending up behind the couch."- you add, pulling the lighter out of your pocket and showing it to him.

"Oh, you found it! I knew it was somewhere around here."- he smiles as he takes it from your open palm and you can't help but wonder why he loves it so much.

"Why is it your favorite?"- you ask and he looks up at you, his eyes wide before they soften.

"Remember when I got it? Both of us had a bad day and it was raining like hell. I came to you with a baggy and you rolled a perfect joint like you always do. But, we couldn't find a lighter that was working so we had to run to the gas station in the rain like two idiots. And when we came back you let me shower here and you gave me your Sonic Youth shirt, which I know is your favorite so that was a great honor to me. To get to wear your favorite shirt that smells like you. And then you decorated the lighter when we finished smoking and you gave it to me and threatened that if I ever lost it you would kick me."- he laughs and you chuckle, your face burning and heart beating fast at the way he talked about you and that evening.

Ofcourse you remember, you remember every night with him.

"That was such a y/n thing to do."- he adds and you laugh as he grabs your hand.

"I guess it was."- you squeeze his hand lightly as you stare at each other.

"I told you I'd get in your pants."- he smirks suddenly and you roll your eyes, groaning at him.

"Ruining the moment. And it wasn't me this time."- you point at him and he laughs.

"Okay, how about this for the moment?"- he swallows and leans in closer.

"I love you, y/n. And I'm in love with you. Like so desperately. I can't stop thinking about you 24/7 and my favorite parts of the day are the parts I share with you. I know I bother you a lot and cling to you but I don't know how to stop. You're my favorite person ever. You're my person."- Jisung says and you almost melt down into a puddle.

"Don't stop bothering me ever, Ji. Because I... I love you too. And you're my favorite person in the whole world too."- you confess finally, feeling like a burden was lifted off of your heart.

"Good, because you can't get rid of me that easily."- he smirks, his lips on yours.

"Mhm."- you mutter against him, wanting to throw a witty comment back at him but he kisses you with so much emotion that any word lingering on your lips dies and you kiss back, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him closer to you.

"Hope you know I'll be spending even more time at your house now."- he smirks when you pull away.

"Ugh, I might start locking my door finally."- you joke and Jisung snorts.

"You'd forget to do it after one time."

"But you'll be there to remind me?"

"Ofcourse."

And he stays with you as he promised, selling his house a few months later and moving in with you even though it seemed like he was living there already.

More than half of his stuff was already in your house so the move in was easy. He remembered the night you talked about needing a break from everything and as soon as fall brought colder weather and less customers, the two of you planned a little trip.

You always heard that it can't get more better than having that one in a million chance to love and be loved by your favorite person in the whole world.

And you have that, you think as you smile at Jisung's silly cute face, and he looks at you mirroring your smile, making you feel like you're home with him, no matter where you are.

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