#this is the shit i get up to during maintenance :')
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If the landlord doesn’t want me fishing around in their shower vent and cold air returns, then they shouldn’t make them stink like rotting garbage. You painted over the screws so they’re hard to open? Cool. I’ll drill holes into them and get them out with a power tool because the town next to me is having a citywide garage sale and I’m sure there’s some Ryobi in there at a decent price. Your vents are coming off motherfucker, and if I find anything I swear to fucking god I am going to have both your vents and your bank account cleaned out.
#I also have a closet door that glues itself shut every time it’s closed… because they used fucking Mod-Podge to finish it I guess???#And the knob fell off when I pulled on it. So I stuck a hex wrench in there to try to use it as a handle#but I couldn’t grip it well enough to pull it open#so I karate-kneed the door on the side of the knob while pulling and it opened#As I’m talking about knobs… a knob is responsible for finishing this apartment#The cabinets don’t line up. The bedroom closet doors don’t shut at the same time#because they’re too tight in the jam and push the other out when you close a door while the other door is already closed#The cabinets in the bathroom don’t fully close because the hinges were drilled at an angle#The base molding looks like it fell off a cliff and was fractured in three places#SHIT-COLORED CIGARETTE TAR DRIPS DOWN THE WALLS IN THE BATHROOM WHEN THEY GET WET#Fuck you and your lease. If you’re allowed to have irresponsible carpenters and maintenance; I am allowed to responsibly burn incense#If people are allowed to smoke; I am allowed to burn incense#“No candles” fuck you for making me need to burn scents in the first place#Orwellian fucking apartment. Literally 1984. Not because of the rules; just because the apartment is a dysfunctional shithole#and it smells like the rotting remains of boiled cabbage just like the book#And if anyone asks me why I didn’t call maintenance I’m going to respond with my unresolved service request for the A/C#which conveniently broke down during a heat wave#Did it really break down or did the landlords cut it to save money? Like yes A/Cs break during the summer#but I wouldn’t doubt sabotage either. It doesn’t turn on at all.#The site asked what dates I’d like them to look at it. I gave my dates and said I’d be there all day. I waited at home for two days. No one#No follow-up until nearly a month later saying “We’re still getting to all the service requests please bear with us.” Oh thanks#You couldn’t have done that sooner?
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i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.
He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.
It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”
So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”
Eddie feels his jaw drop.
“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.
“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”
“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”
“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”
“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”
Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.
“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”
“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”
Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.
“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”
Eddie gapes at him.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Huh?”
“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.
“Wha– you mean with Hop?”
“Uh, yeah?!?”
Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”
“What?”
#idk maybe this is pre-season 3. maybe it’s a no-upside down au. who knows#might expand this and post on ao3 later if i’m feeling it#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#jim hopper#steve jim father-son relationship my beloved
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These are a couple doodles from yesterday, Gideon as a younger teen, before the growth spurt, maybe 14? He's discovered he's a vampire, and has a lot of recovery to do, since he's severely blood deficient.
I'm gonna let myself explode about my vampire gideon ideas, under construction, under the cut: (I don't write fanfiction, I just throw up my ideas on a tumblr post, apparently :'D)
This is what I love about tumblr - it's a place where I can throw the doodles (something that isn't finished *artwork*), and let myself be really delusional about fictional characters. So I'm gonna take a moment to ramble about the ideas I have for Gideon as a vampire.
If you're a fellow Gideon Head, HI THERE... anyway, here's my thought process on a potential vampire-gideon backstory???
I've always liked the idea of gideon being a vampire, and also becoming a much better person when he's older. And that got me thinking, maybe those two things are linked. Maybe the vampire thing is somehow tied into his reformation.
But I tend to lean towards building my ideas off canon (as opposed to making an AU). And if gideon was a vampire, and knew this during the events of the show, it would have come to light at some point. So, either he doesn't know he's a vampire, or he becomes one later. Becoming one later works narratively, but he's already so vampiric, with the white hair, pale skin, sunscreen, evil, etc. So I'm like, let's go with that.
So, gideon has gone his whole life without knowing he's a vampire, and without drinking blood. I'm thinking that being a vampire in this case (my gravity falls fan version of what a vampire would be) wouldn't adhere to typical vampire conventions. You don't NEED to drink blood to survive.
Here's the idea I got yesterday: after the events of weirdmageddon, gideons experience motivated him to become a better person. It was the awakening, basically. But in the subsequent years, he's still a little shit. Maybe he's in juvenile detention, or prison again. But now, he has the self awareness to know that what he's doing is wrong. This is where my ideas get a little fuzzy, so bear with me. Bud has his suspicions, and as a last resort, puts gideon on some sort of mission trip type of cross country trip, when he's in his teens. And along the way, maybe at the end, there's this secret group of vampires that open gideons eyes to what he really is.
Basically??? Without blood, gideon is very evil. He's an evil little shit. This may not be how it is for every vampire. Maybe some grow very sickly without blood, just get hungry, etc. The effects of blood deficiency vary from vampire to vampire. But Gideon becomes very unhinged. And he'd essentially been Blood Hangry for his whole life. That being said, some of it was just his personality that he needed to work through, but drinking some blood helped a LOT. Blood isn't food for him, it's more like his medication.
Once he has that discovery, he spends a long while, I'm thinking maybe even a year, just recovering from the deficiency. He's almost always drinking blood to keep up his levels, and he's very rarely seen in public to keep the vampire thing a secret. That's what these drawings were supposed to be, him in his pseudo bedridden state. This period in his life would be one big blur; mostly spent binge watching soap operas and being all cozy. In contrast to his usual suit + tie, he's dressing for max comfort: sweatpants, sweatshirt, a knit hat over his ridiculously big hair, and always wrapped in a blanket. Not sure if somehow he feels cold when drinking blood?? But for some reason, I feel like he'd always be wearing like 10 layers and laying under a heated blanket or something.
Eventually, he'd only need to drink blood about once a month for maintenance.
Character development wise - even as an adult, Gideon isn't sure if he's truly a good person. Is the blood deficient version of himself the true gideon? Or is this well adjusted man who he truly is? And there's an issue of the chicken and the egg, too. Gideon was born a vampire. Did these genes activate because he was predisposed to being evil? Or did the vampire thing happen by coincidence? Does being a vampire make him evil, or is it the other way around? He doesn't know, and he never will.
The one thing I'm not sure I like about this idea: i'm worried that I'd be writing off his villainous personality as an illness that can be cured with a thing. Obviously, it would be better if he faced that head on, and figured out how to be better. So I'm still grappling with that. But for now, this is an idea I'm entertaining. Of course, I think it would be interesting if there was a plot point where his usual source of ethically sourced human blood was compromised for a time, and he had to grapple with his personality going topsy turvy.
It's actually embarrassing how much I just wrote???? If you've made it this far, wow, I applaud you. I guess this was just my idea of having a good sunday night, writing down my silly thoughts on gideon gosh darn gleeful. Let me know your thoughts too!!!! I'd love to know if you have any ideas, or questions, or ways to strengthen this potential backstory.
#gideon gleeful#gideon fanart#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls gideon#gideon#vampire gideon#vampire gideon gleeful#gravity falls headcanons#gravity falls headcanon#sketchbook#traditional drawing#traditional art#pencil drawing#doodles#my doodles#monster falls#sure why not
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handy | choi san
pairing: choi san x afab reader
word count: 5K
summary: you move into a shitty apartment with a long list of maintenance issues. your landlord puts off sending someone to fix them, only making your frustrations grow. that is, until the maintenance man finally arrives and you discover that he's hot... and you find yourself making excuses for him to keep coming back.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, maintenance man!san, tenant!reader, reader is kind of a perv lol, unprotected piv (wrap it up!), oral (f receiving), san is a tease, fingering, hair pulling (m receiving), cumplay, kitchen counter sex!!!, he kinda throws u around hehehe, choking, dacryphilia, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!
author's note: umm.... hahaha um...... so this is lowkey based on a recent experience i had of my maintenance man coming to fix some shit in my apt and he strangely had SO much rizz and i was like wait a minute.... this could be a great fic idea LMAO thank u to @hausofmingi for being my beta-reader ily always ♡
when you signed your lease at your new apartment, you didn’t expect to sign up for a list of problems.
you desperately needed a new place to live, and with the measly budget you had for rent, all that was left available were slim pickings. so when you finally found a small 1 bedroom apartment that wasn’t double your desired price, you jumped at the opportunity. you applied for the place on the spot and were approved the same day. you didn’t really think anything of it, but when you finally got settled in and actually gave a good look at your newfound home… you were in for a fucking nightmare.
for starters, the window unit in the bedroom wouldn’t blow cool air. it’s right in the heat of the summer, so coming home after a long day only to sweat all night long was not cutting it for you. you put in a maintenance request through your tenant portal app the first day when you realized this.
another annoyance was the dishwasher. one of your biggest must-haves was to have an actual working one. maybe you were asking a bit much with your budget, but with the amount that you work, it was imperative. you were thrilled to see the dishwasher during the viewing, only to find a few days worth of dirty dishes later, that said dishwasher was rusty and moldy. literally unusable. so you put in another maintenance request.
last one, and maybe now you’re just getting picky because you’re pissed, but your shower water pressure sucked, and by the time you would finish a shower, the water would take forever to drain. another request sent.
all these maintenance requests and not a single one fixed. you started to wonder if the tenant portal app even worked, so you called your landlord, only to grapple with them on finding a time for them to fix it while you’re still home. you might want these things fixed asap, but you’re not willing to let a stranger in your space when you’re not there.
you started to fucking lose it. a few weeks with no cold air, shitty water pressure, and dishes piling up your sink, and not one thing being done about it. you call your landlord one more time, urging them to finally fix these issues, arguing that they should’ve been fixed before you even moved in. and with that last push, they finally caved and did their fucking job. they said they’re sending someone there first thing tomorrow.
so when you finally wake up and go about your day-off routine, you’re constantly watching the clock. when they said “first thing tomorrow,” did they mean “first thing tomorrow once the maintenance man feels like it”? because it’s already pushing noon and you’re getting impatient. it’s obnoxious; you’re not able to run any errands (let alone actually go out and enjoy your day off) and you’re just waiting around for some dude to actually do the job you’ve been asking for for weeks.
just as you find yourself dialing the landlord’s number, you hear a knock at your door. fucking FINALLY. you jump off your couch, mind spewing profanities out of frustration. you walk towards the door, ready to give this stupid maintenance man a piece of your mind. you swing open the door, and your heart drops.
the maintenance man stands before you, with a tight black tank that hugged his muscular build and dirty worn jeans. he has a tool belt strapped to his (surprisingly small?) waist and a heavy tool box gripped in his hand. he’s a little dirty, and his chest is shiny with sweat due to the humid outside air. his rugged exterior is a huge juxtaposition to his face, however, with sharp yet kind eyes and a sweet smile.
“you need some maintenance done?” he asks.
“oh, uh, yes,” you stumble, suddenly at a loss for words. “come on in.” you hold the door open, allowing him to walk through to your living room.
“so you’re having issues with your water pressure?” he says, looking around the apartment.
“yeah, that and a few other things,” you reply. “but the biggest thing is the window unit in my room. it doesn’t blow any cold air.”
“i can fix that,” he looks at you with a grin. “which one’s the bedroom?”
you walk him to your room, thanking god he can’t see the blush forming on your face. he walks in and places his tool box down, promptly inspecting the window unit.
“i’ll just let you do your thing,” you say, twiddling your thumbs. “i’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
he nods, and you go back to sit on your couch. you mindlessly scroll through your phone, all while spiraling in your head. did your landlord hire this guy from a fucking modeling agency? he has the build for handyman work, that is certain. however, his face is what’s really getting to you. he could be on the cover of vogue and you wouldn’t bat an eye. but there he is, working on a shitty a/c window unit in your room.
you suddenly become hyper aware of the appearance of your bedroom. what does he think about your decor? is he cringing at the plushies sat on your bed? what if you left a pair of underwear out? oh my god, did you leave your nightstand drawer open, with your vibrator out for the whole world to see?
“it looks like you’ll need a whole new window unit,” he says from your room, interrupting your swarming thoughts. “this one doesn’t even have heat, and you’ll need that for winter.”
“oh, yeah,” you say, getting up and standing in your bedroom doorway. “how long will it take to get a new one? this heat has been brutal.”
“i should be able to bring one tomorrow, if you’re available,” he says, turning back to look at you as he closes up the tool box.
“i’m available,” you say all too quick. dude. be cool. “i mean, yeah, i can try to get off work a little earlier, maybe at like 3?”
“works for me,” he smiles, standing up. “can i get your number?”
you can’t hide your blush this time, nodding at the insinuation, but knowing it was just to iron out arrangements. “here,” you say, opening your phone messages so he can send himself a text.
he types away and hands your phone back. “you need a new dishwasher too, right?”
“i do,” you confirm.
“i can try and get you one by tomorrow too,” he says. “i’m off duty by like 5, so hopefully i’ll have enough time. now the shower?”
you nod and lead him to your bathroom. he examines the shower head, and you watch your cat approach him from behind.
“oh my god,” he says, startled at your cat rubbing against his leg. “this little dude came out of nowhere!” he reaches down to pet him, all while he’s purring up a storm.
“wow, he really likes you,” you stand shocked. your cat is always so standoffish to strangers, usually hiding under your bed or couch. but he’s rubbing against your maintenance man’s legs like he’s best friends with him.
“cats tend to really like me, i don’t know why,” he chuckles, scratching at your cat’s head. “what’s his name?”
“leo,” you say.
“like the zodiac sign?” he looks up at you while still petting him.
“yeah, i wanted to name him after his own sign but he’s a cancer, soooo…” you trail off, awkwardly fiddling with your hands.
“i’m a cancer!” he lights up, looking back down at leo. “no wonder we get along.”
you smile, and then realize you’re staring again. “i’ll go back in here so you can work.”
after distracting yourself with your phone again for a bit, you look up and see the man starting to walk out the bathroom doorway, already with his things together.
“okay, it should be good now, but let me know tomorrow if there’s any issues,” he says. you nod to him and lead him to the front door. you open the door and he walks out, but turns to you before he leaves. “so, i’ll see you tomorrow?” he has a smile on his face, with a hint of something behind it that you can’t quite read.
“yeah, tomorrow,” you say.
after locking the door behind him, you slump onto the couch with a big sigh. that was somehow the most nerve-wracking thing you’ve ever experienced. you remember he texted himself on your phone, so you open your messages and see the unsaved number.
sent 12:28 pm this is san :)
you can feel heat rising to your cheeks. even a stupid smiley face in a text has got you kicking your feet. you text him back, telling him your name and a quick thank you.
dear lord. this man didn’t even do anything, but he will be the death of you.
you come home early the next day, even earlier than you mentioned. partly because you wanted to clean up your place a bit, but the other part to mentally prepare yourself for a hot man in your apartment again. you clean up your room, tidying up so it looks a tad better than it did the day prior. once you’re done, you find yourself fixing up your makeup, realizing you’re putting way too much effort into seeing a fucking handyman fix your a/c.
are you really doing this? intentionally getting dolled up for this?? haha never! right….?
you hear a knock at your door and jump up. you check yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing the gloss on your lips. you go to open the door to reveal san, standing in front of you again with a familiar sweet smile on his face. you smile back too eagerly.
“i got your window unit!” he says, nodding down to the large box in his hands.
“oh, come in, that must be heavy!” you say, ushering him into your living room.
“mind if i go in your room?” he asks.
“of course, please,” you say, opening your bedroom door and letting him set the box down. you attempt to subtly watch his arms flex as he drops it. oh my god he is so hot.
you retreat to the living room as usual, allowing him to work in peace. you work on some things on your laptop to pass the time, but the thought of this man working on your a/c, muscles protruding, sweat glistening… it’s all too much of a distraction. you decide to put your ear buds in, trying to drown out your own perverse thoughts. you finally are able to hone in on your work, catching up on the things you couldn’t finish during your shift today since you left early.
you don’t realize that san finished installing the window unit until you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.
“oh!” you stammer, pulling an ear bud out. “sorry, what’s up?”
san has a smile creeping on his face. “my bad, i didn’t mean to scare you. i just wanted to let you know i finished putting in the unit.”
“that’s great, thank you so much,” you say, standing up. “did you get the dishwasher today too?”
“yeah i did,” he says, but then he checks his phone for the time. you realize it’s about to hit 5 pm, and he said he’s off by that time.
“you’re almost off, i forgot,” you say apologetically. “you can just come back another day?”
he checks his phone again, contemplating. “well… i mean i already have it in my truck, so i don’t mind working a little bit over my time.”
“you really don’t have to, san,” you plead.
“it’s okay,” he says. “i’ll be right back with it!”
he exits your apartment, giving you a moment to kick yourself. having a dishwasher that works would be so great right now, but you feel guilty for having him work past his time. another part of you wants him to go anyway, if it meant he would come back again.
you hear a loud noise outside your front door, so you open it to see san with the new dishwasher on a dolly. you hold the door open for him, allowing him to enter your apartment and bee-line to the kitchen. he props the dolly down to drop the box.
“i should be able to finish this in about an hour, is that okay?” he asks, already unboxing it.
“as long as you’re okay with working this late,” you shrug.
“i don’t mind at all,” he smiles, looking up at you.
“okay, i’ll just be in here,” you point behind you, gesturing to the living room.
“alright, dishwasher is done,” san says, walking into the living room with a broken down empty box in one hand and dolly in the other.
“thank you so much,” you smile.
“is there anything else you need then?” he inquires, quirking up an eyebrow.
a moment of silence washes over the room momentarily, with you wracking your brain trying to find a reason for him to stay longer. but you push that away, knowing he’s been working way too long past his scheduled time.
“no, i think that will do it,” you sigh, unintentionally sounding disappointed.
“well,” he mumbles, toying with the box in his hand. “well you have my number, so if you need anything, feel free to shoot me a text.”
you walk him to the door, thanking him. he stands out in the hallway, you looking at him out your front door.
“really though,” he insists. “if you need anything.” with one last sweet smile, he leaves.
so what does he mean by that? “anything.” maybe you’re delusional for thinking there’s a hidden meaning behind that statement. as in, you can text him if you want him to fuck your brains out, “anything?” definitely not, but your mind wanders at the thought of it; that he’d drop everything and book it back to your apartment, heaving and sweaty, ready to take what’s his. you’re actually fucking crazy.
and to make yourself even crazier, the next few days you find yourself itching to get another reason to have him come back. you check your kitchen sink’s water pressure, it’s fine. you test out the stove for the first time and it cooked your food perfectly, no gas smell. then you find something. one of your kitchen drawers won’t close completely. it’s something small, but enough to put in a maintenance request. for the first time since you moved in, you feel grateful you live in a shitty apartment.
you swing the door open, happy to see the cute grin san always gives you the moment he sees you.
“sooo… a drawer, huh?” he quips with a hint of a teasing tone.
“y-yeah, i tried to fix it but i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” you defend, rubbing the back of your neck.
“i can fix that,” he says, passing into the kitchen, tool box in hand. you’re ready to retreat to your living room as usual, but san stops you. “you know, you don’t have to wait around in your living room for me to finish. i like having company.”
“oh,” you mumble, turning around. “i thought you might want privacy while you work.”
“no, it’s okay,” he says, opening his tool box to grab a few items. “if you wanted, you can hang around. i like learning about the tenants i’m working for.”
“okay,” you murmur. you open a kitchen cabinet to grab two mugs. “do you want some tea?”
“i would love some tea,” he says.
you put the kettle on the stove, heating up some water. you chat with san about work, how many units he has to visit in a day, about the interesting tenants he meets, how long he’s been doing this. once the kettle starts whistling, san is already finished fixing the drawer, placing it back into it’s assigned slot. you can’t help but feel disappointed that your time with him is almost up. you put the tea bags in the mugs of hot water, offering one to san.
“i know you’re done, but if you still want it,” you say, and he accepts the drink with a grin. you both sit at your kitchen table, continuing to chat. your cat leo enters the kitchen, going to straight to san’s legs to rub against him.
“there’s my boy,” san coos, scratching leo’s head.
“i still can’t get over how much he likes you,” you laugh. “he’s never this friendly, he’s only like this with me.”
“he seems friendly to me,” san says. “maybe he just has good taste in people.”
you chuckle, wondering in the back of your mind if he meant that about you too.
san checks his phone, realizing the time. he sets down his tea and stands. “i should probably get out of here, there’s another tenant waiting for me.”
“i didn’t mean to keep you—”
“no no,” san interrupts. “it’s okay. i really liked this. not a lot of people are this welcoming.”
“of course,” you reply, standing up with him. “i—i really liked this too.”
san smiles, biting a bit at his lip. you look at each other for a moment, feeling an intriguing tension in the air. he finally shakes head, going to grab his things to go. you walk him to your front door. you say another thank you, about to close the door.
“like i said,” he repeats, leaning against the door frame. “anything.”
you hadn’t seen san in over a week. it was driving you mad. you became addicted to his energy, to his warm greeting at your front door, to the lingering gazes you shared. you didn’t have any reason to see him again, and you needed to find another. so you did something you’re not entirely proud of… something that an actual crazy person would do. you loosened a bolt on a pipe under your kitchen sink, allowing water to trickle the smallest amount in the lower cabinet.
listen. you know it’s bizarre at this point, but you had to see him again. it’s not like anything would happen; he’d probably just fix it up, have another nice chat with you, and be on his way. is it so bad that you meddled with your sink just to see him?
when san arrives, he has that all-knowing grin on his face the moment you open the door.
“the sink now, hm?” he asks.
“yeah,” you chuckle anxiously. “the sink.”
he goes to the kitchen and inspects the pipes under the sink. you lean against the counter, hoping to god he doesn’t notice that the pipe didn’t magically get loose.
“ah i see,” he laughs to himself. “it’s just a loose bolt. easy fix.” he tightens it with his tools, quickly finishing.
“oh, haha,” you say, nerves bubbling in your stomach. “i guess i could’ve done that.”
“you know, it’s so interesting…” he trails off, standing up to face you, running a hand through his hair.
“what?” you ask.
“i’ve never had to do so much maintenance work for one tenant before,” he says, sly grin across his face. fuck. do you think he knows?
“and i swear, that bolt kinda looked like it was loosened by a wrench…” he trails off again, stepping closer to you. HE KNOWS.
“n-no, i would never,” you defend, feeling backed against the counter.
your eyes are locked on san, wandering over his built frame, over his sharp features. he’s inching closer and closer, and you feel your breath hitch. he catches your trailing eyes as if to ask for permission, and leans in to kiss you.
finally, the thing you’ve been wanting so bad from him, to feel his lips against yours. he cups your cheek with one hand, letting you melt into his touch. your lips part to allow his tongue to slide in, deepening the kiss with fervor. his form pushes against yours, pressing you against the kitchen counter. his hands begin to wander, grazing from the side of your face down to your waist. he holds you in a tight grip, pulling your hips forward to meet his. you can feel him harden in his jeans as he lets out a groan against your lips.
“you did this on purpose, hm?” san says, separating from your lips. he lifts you up and places you to sit on the kitchen counter in one swift motion. he kneels to the floor, grabbing at the waist of your pants. “just to see me?”
you nod emphatically, watching as he pulls down your pants and underwear. the cold air hits your core and you try to close your legs, but san pushes them back open to admire you. putting your legs over his shoulders, he runs his fingers against your folds, eyes drinking in the sight of you. you shudder at the feeling, knowing all too well that he’s already got you soaked.
“you like seeing me like this?” he whispers, looking up at you. “i bet you imagined me like this, between your legs.” when his fingertips graze over your clit, your body lets out a shake, and he knows he found what he wanted.
he attaches his mouth to your core and places a firm hold on your outer thighs. licking stripes up to your clit, each stroke of his tongue feels like heaven. he dips down to your hole, dragging your slick upwards. he moans at the taste of you, devouring at you with more passion. your hands grasp at his hair, relishing the stimulation.
he tugs his head back, looking as pussy-drunk as ever. “i imagined you like this too,” he moans, lips still hovering over you. you unintentionally tug at his hair, yearning for his mouth back on you. “i wanted you so bad the moment i saw you.”
he releases a hand off your thigh and snakes it back between your legs, teasing at your hole as he goes back to circle his tongue around your clit. he looks up at you as he slides his middle finger in, watching you crumble at the feeling. once he can tell you’re comfortable, he slides in another, slowly starting to pump them into you. you whimper at the feeling, walls contracting around his fingers.
your moans are uncontrollable, and he matches them, letting the vibrations enhance the stimulation. he curls his fingers into you, hitting that perfect spot. he can feel your core clenching more erratically, causing him to pick up the pace, but maintaining a steady rhythm. his tongue flicks at your clit just right, making you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten the grip on his hair.
“s-san,” you let out. “i’m gonna cum.”
he detaches from you briefly, still finger fucking you. “cum for me, baby, i want to taste you.” he immediately latches back onto you, eating you like his life depends on it.
you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body, feeling like chills. you’re shaking now, unable to control the sheer amount of bliss your body is experiencing. you moan out to san, coming undone on his tongue. he continues to work at you, allowing you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm.
he finally disconnects from you, pulling out his fingers coated in your essence. he licks them clean, looking up at you with the same look of desire. he stands up, promptly placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. you can taste yourself on his fucked-out lips, and it makes it that much hotter. you can hear him fumbling with his belt, and your hands reach down to help. you place your palm over his bulge, it twitching at the contact.
san separates from you, letting out a heavy sigh. he pulls himself out from his underwear, rubbing the tip at your spent pussy. he looks down and lets a string of his spit hit his throbbing cock, spreading it around the expanse of it with his hand. he angles himself into you, and slowly starts pushing in. you gasp at the size, him stretching you out much more than his fingers initially did. he takes it slow, acknowledging the whimpers leaving your lips.
once he’s fully inside, he groans. “god, you’re so fucking tight.”
he watches himself enter you as he starts rolling his hips into you. he places a hand on the back of your neck, pushing you towards him for a messy kiss. he starts to pick up his pace, earning a sharp hiss on his lips in between kisses.
“you feel so good,” he murmurs to you. “i knew you would feel good.”
you moan in response, completely unable to form any words. all you know is that the stretch of his cock is deliciously painful, and the sweet kisses he’s peppering over your neck gives you goosebumps all over. you can’t even believe this is happening right now, that your fantasy of fucking your maintenance man is coming true, and it feels even better than you imagined.
“you wanted this so bad,” san teases, continuing to piston into you. “for me to fuck you like this. you probably imagined it, touching yourself the moment i left.”
and he’s right, you found yourself needy and horny after every visit he made. you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing your vibrator and pretending he was the one fucking you, not yourself. but the feeling of the real thing was much different, much more euphoric. to have his chest heaving in front of you, sweat beading on his temple, desperate energy emanating from his body, saying i want to have all of you.
suddenly, he lifts you from the kitchen counter, holding your thighs firmly with his cock still in you. something about the fact that he can completely hold you up, still bouncing you on him even… you feel like his little play toy that he’s throwing around. he takes you to the bedroom, dropping you down on your bed and landing on top of you.
he wastes no time in sliding back into you, desperate to continue feeling your tight walls around him. his body is hovering over yours, your legs tangled as he thrusts into you. he pecks around your neck, hand ghosting over your throat as if seeking permission. you place your hand over his, allowing him to choke you until you’re lost in a euphoric haze.
his thrusts become more intense and forceful, each stroke sending chills down your spine as his length reaches deeper inside you. you swear you’re shaking the whole bed, the headboard repeatedly slamming against the wall. you’re so clouded by pleasure that you barely even notice he’s fucking you so hard that he’s pushing a dent into the wall from your bed frame.
“i can fix that,” san whispers with a smile, not even bothering to stop.
you let out a chuckle, then press a soft kiss to his lips. his hips begin to slow, as though he’s really taking his time to melt into you, to feel every part of you. he then lifts up to hit a new angle inside you, gripping your waist and slamming your hips into his with powerful, deliberate motions. you move your hand to your clit, feeling your walls tighten around his throbbing cock. your vision blurs, tears starting to well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.
“you gonna cum for me?” san asks, sensing the irregular pulsing of your core. you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowed and lip caught between your teeth. “cum on my cock, baby, let me feel you.”
your orgasm builds to a peak and then cascades over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss. san is still fucking into you, extending your orgasm while still chasing his own. it’s not until his hips begin to falter that you feel him shoot ropes of his cum into you, filling you completely. his moans echo yours, his hips gradually slowing until he finally comes to a stop.
he pulls out of you, falling next to you on the bed. the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing as it gradually returns to a normal pace. you look at each other, smiling with a shared understanding of the unexpected moment you just experienced. he wraps his arm around you, drawing your head to his chest to where you can hear his heartbeat.
“sooo…” you chuckle softly, pointing at the dent in your wall. “you’re gonna fix that, right?”
san grins, pulling you closer. “i mean, i can, but then i’d have no reason to come back tomorrow.”
“now that i think of it,” you say, chuckling. “i think there’s probably a few more things that could be fixed…”
“anything you need,” he says. “anything.”
a/n: guys this was so fun to write, i hope u enjoyed it too!! something about san lately oml... plz leave feeback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!
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Livestream
Shin Yuna x Male Reader
Tags: amateur porn, anal fingering, big ass, butt spanking, chat comments, degradation, deep creampies, deepthroating, facefucking, fisting, fucking like animals, gonzo, human fleshlight, lube, mating press, POV, queefing, revenge, rough sex, sex on camera, sneakers, twerking
Word count: 5826.
Shin Yuna is a high-maintenance girlfriend. You can try your best, but you know that one single man can't satisfy her insane sex drive alone. She will cheat on you every time she gets a chance. Because more than anything, Yuna only cares about sex, no matter who provides it to her.
While Itzy was on tour, you knew Yuna had cheated on you multiple times abroad. She was born to fuck and is the most unloyal, slutty girlfriend that could ever exist. You know it; she knows it. So, as soon as she arrived back home after touring for many months, you made her a proposal.
"Look, Yuna, I know you fucked countless guys while you were away. You're a dirty whore after all, but if you accept this deal, I won't give a shit," you told her. "So, what's the deal?" she asked. "I'm going to fuck you on camera, and everyone is going to see it; show them who the real owner of your slutty body is," you replied.
"So you want to record a sex tape of me? I guess it's fine. It didn't hurt Kim Kardashian when she got hers leaked, did it?" she said. "Basically, but we are going to do it live. I know you fuck better than you sing, so you have no excuse not to put up an amazing performance," you poked her.
"Sure, bring the cameras on," Yuna invited the challenge, creating an account on OnlyFans going by her English name Hussey and teasing her subscribers as she counted down the days for the livestream. You brought one of your friends to be the camera operator and got yourself a handcam to film Yuna's sexy body up close.
The stream started with you filming Yuna's beautiful, naughty face as she walked towards the bedroom. You two were about to set this whole thing up. You two kissed each other in front of the cameras. Yuna then moved in the direction of the bed. Her upper body was completely clothed, but she left her lower body already half naked, with just her panties on. Yuna was truly a natural; she always knew where the camera was and made sure to make the horniest expressions to tease the audience.
You grabbed Yuna by the neck, which brought the first massive cheers from the crowd in the comments. "Choke this bitch," they said. Yuna got on her knees on the side of the huge bed that was waiting for her, licking her tongue as she stared at the camera. You jumped your mouth on her neck like a vampire and gave her a little hickey. The room's camera zoomed on her to show it and captured her very silent but sexy moans.
The kissing and choking session continued until Yuna lied her back on the bad. The aerial view of her body was sensational, as her panties were so small that viewers could already take a glimpse of the outer edges of her pussy. You lifted her shirt and gave the audience the first peek of her boobs from the lens of your handcam. When Yuna puts her hands on her panties, you switch the angle to let them watch her teasing her pink pussy.
You unbuttoned Yuna's little skirt and put her legs over her head, letting the audience get a better view of her lower body. You licked her fabric as you teased her, and she moaned. You moved your tongue all over her thighs and hips as she spread her legs, and you gave her a little spanking.
You finally unveiled the gates of heaven, pushing Yuna's thong to the side and giving viewers the first look at her perfect pussy. "I want to fuck that pussy now," one of them commented. You teased it with your hands, poking her asshole as well and filming it. Yuna enjoyed your touch, especially when you dove to give her cunt a kiss.
You picked up some lube and poured it around Yuna's genitalia, knowing it was going to be tight even if her pussy had served as a sleeve for more than a hundred cocks during all those months of touring. Her meaty lips were driving both you and the crowd in the comments insane. You rubbed her clit hard from the start, searching for that heavenly nectar you knew she would soon gush out of it.
You inserted a pair of fingers inside Yuna's tight cunt, making her moan louder, with your thumb rubbing the hood of her clit. You already panted with the way her walls clenched around your fingers, knowing your cock wasn't going to be an easy task. Yuna is such an experienced whore; her body knows exactly how to react every time a strange object goes inside her vagina, and she makes sure to coat your fingers full of juices.
"Oh shit," you panted, already out of breath, as Yuna used her own hands to finger herself. "Damn, she must be really tight," someone commented. Indeed, she was, so much so that if your fingers had a way to shoot cum, they would be filling her pussy to the brim. Meanwhile, Yuna just moaned and enjoyed you digging deeper inside her.
You gave Yuna a little taste of her juices, which she loved. "Give me some spit," you ordered her as her face filled the camera's lens. This time, you finger-fucked her even faster, making her moan harder as you fisted her entire cunt, which Yuna took with ease, treating your arms just like an oversized cock and showing the flexibility of her vaginal muscles.
You couldn't resist for long and showed your bulging erection to the audience. Yuna smiled and quickly helped you, unbelting your pants and taking them off quickly, placing one hand on your throbbing shaft and another in her pussy. "What a nice cock," someone commented. It could have been Yuna herself, because she was already ready to take it.
Yuna quickly guided her mouth into your pecker. You zoomed right into her face, giving the perfect view of her slowly making it disappear down her warm throat with her eyes wide open. "She looks like a human fleshlight," one comment said as she loudly bobbed her head on your dick and spat all over it.
Yuna took your cock fully deep in her throat, giving you the green light to fuck her beautiful face. Your handcam had zoomed so close that viewers could see the veins both on your shaft and in her face. Her eyes turned red as she choked harder and harder on that dick, a view you wouldn't get in most professional POV porn scenes.
"Fuck her face," the crowd commented. You did just as they ordered, but soon learned it was one of those situations where an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, as Yuna managed to take all your cock in and fight back, making you come really close to a premature ejaculation. You saved yourself by giving her a huge tap in her cheeky ass that made her react by gagging and pulling your cock out, creating a string of saliva between it and her chin while doing so.
"Give me more," she ordered as you rubbed your shaft against her mouth entrance. You knew you had to think outside the box to tame this brat. She was clearly coming out on top, moving now to twist your cock while taking it in her mouth. "Just like that," you told her. But you knew you had to end her fun if you wanted it to last long; otherwise, Yuna would milk you dry rather soon.
"AHHHHHHH!" you screamed as Yuna deepthroated you and just couldn't detach herself from your hips. You were forced to use your salve valve once again, spanking her ass for a second time. Your tip was full of her bubbling saliva, but Yuna kept looking at you as if she wanted more, licking it before she took it back in her mouth. "Holy shit that bitch knows how to milk a cock," a comment said.
Yuna was driving you insane; the harder you fucked her face, the harder she throated your meat. "Bitch wants to choke on that dick, lol," another comment said. It was time you finally showed her who was in control, but she was only getting bolder, kneeling on the bed and shaking her ass in front of the camera.
Yuna continued to throat and spit on your dick as you lied on the bed. But this time you were having none of it. Using your leg, you reached over her head and locked it, pushing your hips up and pounding her face. "Choke this bitch," the comments ordered, cheering as you fucked her face like a fleshlight and turned it into a mix of her spit, your meat, and her messy hair.
"Yes, take it, all the way deep," you ordered as you dunk her head right into your shaft. Both her cheeks now had matching tones of red. Her naked belly in front of the camera turned viewers on. "Dude needs to put a baby in that tummy," they said. But nothing got more attention than her arched-up ass while she choked on your meat. "Girl got a nice ass," the comments poured on.
The stream kept alternating the camera angles between your handcam and the bedroom's cam. Either angle, Yuna looked hot on both; one satisfied those who wanted to see her beautiful face full of cock and saliva, and the other was a treat for those who loved her hourglass body, especially when she started licking your balls like a needy puppy, leading to her shirt sliding down and unveling more of her torso.
"God damn it," you couldn't believe what you had just done, getting yourself on the edge even further as Yuna showed you she essentially had a throat made of steel. The more you pounded, the harder she could take it. "Hmm yeah, I see daddy loves when his girlfriend chokes on his dick," Yuna finally said a word besides just moaning, smirking at the whole situation and your struggles to survive the human embodiement of sex.
Yuna just couldn't stop throating your shaft. "Is this what you guys wanna see?" the chat moderator asked. "Yes, make that bitch choke on his dick," the comments answered. And Yuna was giving exactly what they wanted, coating your cock full of saliva.
You slapped Yuna's body and forced her to stop to avoid cumming earlier. As you took some time to recover from her throat attack, viewers were treated to Yuna's amazing half-naked body. "Damn, I love her legs," one said. This time, you stood up and let her lie on the bed, zooming as her tongue worked all over your balls while she used one of her hands to jerk you off. You reached under her blouse and started massaging one of her perky boobs, moaning as she filled your balls full of her lipstick, and viewers could see your cock throbbing to the fullest at the camera.
Yuna kept having fun with your balls as you slowly unveiled her torso, groping her tits a lot while doing so. "Hot slut," one commented. You fucked her face as it hung on the edge of the bed, preparing yourself for the next steps, but not without punishing her into your personal onahole, unleashing your anger over her fucking all those cocks while on tour as you pounded her face, pinched her tits, and poked her navel.
"Open your eyes, open your eyes, cunt," you ordered her as Yuna tried to close them. Your shaft hit her whole face, and your balls slapped hard on her nose and eyes. She gagged and turned into a mess of saliva, to the point where it almost looked like you had given her a bullseye cumshot. You were now shoving your balls deep in her mouth alongside your shaft, taming Yuna in the roughest way you could think. It was what she deserved for being a horny cheater who only thinks about sex 24/7. "Keep your eyes open; let them see," you told her, as the audience agreed. "Keep it open, whore; show us how much you want this cock," they said.
Yuna may have wanted your cock a lot, but at that point you wanted her pussy even more, pounding her face as you previewed what you wanted to do to her cunt. "Bitch looks so dumb choking on his dick," one commented. It really turned on the thought of degrading her in front of an audience of thousands, so you kept going, making sure to give them the best looks of Yuna's sorry, bitchy face getting completely obliterated by your massive monster cock.
"Turn around," you told her as her big ass now filled the camera's lens. "Wow, she's got a nice ass," the comments said. But better than her ass were her dangling, meaty pussy lips just hanging in there with a piece of fabric right beside it. You poured some lube at Yuna's lower parties, zooming so close that the camera managed to show the pores of her shiny, lubed butt.
You pushed Yuna's thong further to the side, removing any obstacle in your way. You teased her, rubbing your shaft against the cracks in her ass as your tip touched both her holes and your thumb fingered her asshole. "Which hole, guys?" you picked up your phone to ask. "Pussy!" "Ass!" the comments alternated at an almost 50-50 split. "You guys can't decide," you said. "I guess it'll be up to this whore right here," you said.
Yuna grabbed your shaft and made her choice. "Put it inside you," you told her as she guided it right into her tight pussy just as you two had scripted it. "Ahhhh," you let out a groan as her tightness always manages to surprise you, so much so that it was Yuna who moved first, swinging her hips to clash against yours even on all fours.
"Ahhhh, yes, baby, bury it deep in your pussy," you told her. Yuna enjoyed that even in the most submissive position, she could own your cock. Heck, she could own any cock; they were always whipped, throbbing, and hard, ready to enter her holes at any second.
"Take me, daddy," Yuna orders, arching her hips even further up. Her ass cheeks are already red and on full display for the audience. You zoom closer towards your cock, going in and out of her pussy, which leads to some complaints. "We want to see her ass," some comments say. You oblige, grabbing Yuna's ass as you pound her and showing it on camera.
It doesn't take long for you to pump fast. "Shit," you groan as her pussy crushes your massive shaft like nothing. You take very long thrusts inside Yuna, going all the way and then pulling all the way out. Her moans are a mix of sexy and cute, straight out of JYP's school of slutiness.
Yuna takes your cock with ease; you're just another guy for her countless count. The same can't be said about you. This is the first time you fuck her since she started touring, and adjusting to her ultra-tight pussy proves to be very challenging. Meanwhile, for Yuna, it's just the best sensation; a big cock stretching her holes while holding itself not to burst at any second makes her feel really special.
"Damn, I'm really that slut; Daddy is struggling not to fill that pussy to the brim, right?" she asks. You ignore her provocative ways, trying not to let her get into your head. But you already know her pussy already owns the other head on your body, making it throb and pulsate each time it touches the depths of it.
You let Yuna swing her hips freely, taking some time to record it. She doesn't make it any easier on you, slowly descending on your cock at each bounce. She lets the audience know how much she loves it by winking her asshole right as it gets to the center spot of the camera.
"Come on, bro, fuck the shit out of her; that whore is begging for it," one guy comments. You lose your cool and start pushing fast, spaking Yuna's ass every five seconds. "Fucking dirty slut," you tell her. Her pussy turned you into a primitive ogre that can only pound, spank, and groan while doing so. The camera zooms out and shows you taking on Yuna, who stays like a perfect submissive cocksleve. "Just like that," you tell her as her moans get louder and the camera switches to a top view of her slutty body, with Yuna having to cling to the bed to endure the intensity of the pounding you're now giving her.
"Get this shit in your pussy, whore," you tell her. "Oh my God," she moans as you get rougher, taking your clothes off. Yuna, however, takes advantage of you slowing down and goes back to swinging her hips. "Come on," you tell her, loving the way she bounces and clashes against your hips.
Yuna almost makes you burst once again as you escape yet another close call. She slows down and brags about her perfect, tight pussy. "Tell me, Daddy, you were sick of those fleshlights while I was on tour, right? They can't hold a candle to my tight little pussy, right?" she provokes.
You respond by hammering her even harder. "Fuck me hard, daddy," Yuna tells you, her knees almost falling out of the bed. You do as she wants, bringing her body up and choking her. "Hahaha, choke that bitch," the comments enjoy it. Yuna closes her eyes and licks her chops, a moment the camera captures perfectly.
Yuna's legs get weaker as she loses her breath and collapses into the bed. You take advantage of it and plow into her pussy from behind as you start prone-boning her. The camera moves to the back and shows her wide open pussy turned into a fleshlight as you pound the shit out of it. "Holy fuck, he's going to destroy her," some comment. She starts moaning, her long legs up in the air with just her sneakers on, your faces no longer visible on the camera as you two turn into an animalesque fucking where you're just a raging bull pounding a slutty cow.
"Oh fuck," Yuna moans as you make her completely helpless. The bed starts shaking, and loud noises come from its supports cracking as they try to hold it in place despite you burying your cock deep in Yuna's cunt and pressing her body as hard as you can against the mattress. "Look at her pussy farting," some say in the comments as you stretch it out nonstop and it starts queefing. The more it goes, the less you feel compelled to stop, and as much as Yuna is getting completely obliterated, so does she.
Yuna tries to fight back and arches her ass up. That only makes the crowd react even better. "Bro is fucking her like a dog," one comment says. The loud noises from her pussy getting wetter as you pound her confirm she really likes it rough. You go so hard, her long legs start to swing, and her sneakers hit the camera. "Oh, oh, oh," she moans. That only makes you go more animalesque, putting your body fully on top of her and penetrating her pussy at a straight angle.
"Damn, he's mounting on top of her," a comment says as the camera zooms into your cock, completely stuffing Yuna's cunt and eviscerating her body into submission. Yuna pretends to fight, but she can't do anything; you just bury your cock further deep in her pussy and behave like a dog in heat. "God, he's such an animal," a comment says as you remain on top of Yuna for a good five minutes and she starts howling at each thrust, with her turned into nothing but a cocksleeve.
"Fuck me, daddy, don't stop," Yuna commands. Not like you intended to stop at all; you own her pussy now. The stream viewship reaches further peaks as word of mouth starts to spread out, and people are really enjoying what they are seeing.
"Destroy that bitch," the comments command you. With one hand, you pink Yuna's body; with another, you spank her fat ass. "This is what a proper whore looks like," the comments continue as the camera shows an utterly hopeless Yuna completely pinned to the bed, her naked back and thong to the side making her look like a cheap prostitute.
You push Yuna's body sideways for the viewers better enjoyment. She is completely out of breath as you switch into a spooning position, but keep the intensity. Her little boobs bounce to the camera as you kiss her while pounding the shit out of her. Yuna spreads her legs and reaches down to finger herself. She grinds her teeth, as even for such an experienced slut like her, taking so much cock at such a fast pace is hard.
You take a more passionate approach with Yuna, filling her beautiful face full of kisses, but not forgetting the roughness as you choke her and stay pounding her at all moments. But soon, your animalesque side takes over again as you make it harder and harder for Yuna to breathe, choking her so hard she coughs. But better for you is that the more you choke her, the harder her pussy tightens and throbs.
As you slow down, Yuna, still recovering from the pounding you gave her, lifts her legs for you to finally take her thong off completely. Viewers get the perfect view of her pussy, with her danling inner lips and long outer lips in full display. Yuna then takes her shirt off as you massage her boobs, getting fully naked except for her sneakers. You two kiss each other, then you lower her head and feed her the juices from her cunt.
Yuna looks at the camera; her fully naked body is a treat to the audience. She teases the crowd. "What do you guys want next?" she asks. But you quickly try to put her in her place, shoving your cock back in her cunt and fucking her as the camera captures her body in a close-up and Yuna puts her fingers in her mouth.
The high-intensity affair that follows proves a missionary fucking isn't always vanila. You and Yuna give full effort, entertaining the viewers with torrid fucking and multiple hot moans from her and animalesque groans from you. Her boobs jiggling and the bed cracking as you pick up the pace offer and extra teasing—that gets even better with the close-ups of your cock stretching her pussy out.
Yuna's pussy only gets tighter as the fucking goes on, forcing you to pour even more lube. This time, you entertain the audience by placing it not only in her crotch but also all over her naked torso, making her giggle as the cold liquit hits her erect nipples and perky boobs. Yuna spreads the lube over her body as you continue to fuck her, helping you slide your hands with more ease and tease her as you film her body as eye candy for the viewers.
"Show them your pussy," you say as you zoom into Yuna's cunt and spit on it and finger it as your cock keeps pumping it. The camera captures your pounding perfectly, with you zooming in and out and teasing Yuna's boobs to the audience as well. She moans as you pick up the pace and work all over her clit. "Cum for the camera, baby," you order her, as the clit-fingering continues all the way until Yuna blasts her juices into the lens filming her.
You spank her cunt shortly after Yuna cums. "Good girl," you tell her, groping her tits too, rewarding her with a mating press fucking that ramps up the intensity even further. Viewers can't even see her face as your frame completely covers it, but what they can see damn well is Yuna's ass jiggling and wobbling as you clash your cock right against her hips.
"Damn girl, where did you get that ass?" one comment asks. Yuna holds her legs up and grabs her sneakers as you pound her even harder, choking her again as well. "Stupid cheating whore," you tell her as you spit on her face and top her completely. "Oh my Godddddd~" Yuna can barely breathe as you manhandle her pussy, making her look completely limp and helpless, with your balls slapping her cunt at each thrust.
Yuna tries to escape from your grasp, but she looks completely numb now. She flashes her pussy to the camera, as it doesn't take long for you to fill it again. Her boobs get groped as you spoon her into the bed. "Dude's addicted to her pussy; she must be amazing," someone comments.
Yuna looks at you with her eyes full of lust; one of your hands stays on her neck; another grabs her tits as you passionately continue to fuck her; and she rediscovers what made her fall in love with you: pure, raw, unfiltered hard sex. "You're a fucking animal, daddy," she tells you, as at this point you can only think of fucking her pussy until you die.
The stream stays for a good 10 minutes on some sexy and passionate action between you and Yuna as you two enjoy each other with lots of fucking between hugs and kisses, trying as many positions as possible, but with you taking control as always and turning Yuna into your submissive fucktoy until you finally manage to get tired. Still overwhelmed by so much sex, you and her take a break as Yuna knees and throats your cock with her ass turned right to the camera.
"What a delicious ass," one of the comments says as Yuna ruins what was still left of her makeup by diving deep into your cock. She slowly blows your pipe up, savoring every inch of it and covering it full of her spit as she gargles all over that dick. "Are you ready to sit on it?" you ask her. Yuna doesn't answer, instead taking some good minutes twisting it and getting increasingly sloppy, going all the way down your balls to throat it, and then licking your throbbing shaft as it pulses.
Yuna puts on a great show for the camera, moaning as she sucks your dick and fingers herself. "I want a camgirl like this for me," a comment says. Her little performance captivates the audience. "Now that's a slut who knows what to do," as all eyes focus on her, with Yuna winking to the camera as she deepthroats you to the fullest and covers your cock even further with spit.
You barely survive Yuna's deepthroat as she keeps worshipping your cock, her perky tits bouncing as she makes a mess of your dick, and groaning as she rotates her mouth on it. "Bitch is biting that dick like a dog," a comment says. "Fuck my face," she demands as you get back on top of her. "Lmao, look at her dumb face." The comments continue to fly as you fill her mouth full of cock and bulge under her throat.
Yuna licks your balls as you rub your cock all over her slutty face and make her choke on it further afterwards. She loves the way you treat it like a fleshlight. "Now I think it's ready for me to sit on it," she says.
Yuna positions herself as you guide your cock back into her pussy. Her big ass occupies a large chunk of the frame as your cock slowly disappears under her cheeks. Her moans when she descends down that dick are extremely sexy, as she starts bouncing her ass all over that cock, already putting you on the edge. "Damn, that girl knows how to shake that booty," someone comments.
The camera keeps filming Yuna twerking her ass on your dick as she tries different angles and leads the crowd in the comments to go wild. "Bounce that ass, bitch," they comment. Her performance is so sensational and immersive that it feels like she's bouncing on the cock of someone in the audience. "Oh my God, ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," she moans as you hit her cervix. "Damn, this is way better than VR porn," someone comments.
"Oh damn, that's perfect," you tell Yuna as she moves towards fast and straight bounces. Her fat ass causes a quake each time it hits your hips. "Damn, I love that angle," someone says as Yuna's butt is right at the center of the screen and keeps being the star of the show. When you accidentally slide out of her pussy, Yuna starts to tease you, grabbing your shaft and rubbing it all over her butt, paying special attention to her asshole as she pokes your dick on it a few times.
"Come on, keep going," you tell her as Yuna puts your cock back inside and smashes it with hard and violent bounces. "Girl is giving that dick a workout," a comment says. You spank her ass as she gives you yet another close call, but that only makes her go harder. "Spank that bitch," people command in the comments.
You put an end to Yuna's slutty show as you get back on your feet, putting her back on all fours and pointing the camera right at her ass. Your cock pumps her hard and deep as viewers watch it to the fullest, seeing your shaft go in and out of her. More ass-spanking ensues as Yuna begs you. "Spank me, Daddy, please," she says. The camera keeps moving but always lands at a spot where viewers can see a lot of her fat ass while your big cock stretches her pussy.
The camera finally zooms out of Yuna's big ass, and viewers get a glimpse of how tired both of you are after almost an hour of fucking like animals. You two keep going regardless, trying to find every extra dose of energy just to enjoy each other's bodies to the max. At this point, Yuna can barely move, as you are completely on top of her.
You give Yuna a break as you two switch sides, and she gets back on top of you. The camera zooms out back into the crowd's favorite asset. If they want her ass, then let's show them as Yuna sits back on your pole. Her eagerness for sexy goes so far that she is bouncing hard the moment you're back inside her. "Ahhhh, yesss," she moans. Both of your bodies get close and wrapped against each other as you two share the love for each other as you suck her tits while she bounces on you.
Yuna grabs your chest and keeps bouncing, but can barely endure more than 10 seconds now. She's exhausted; her heavily pounded pussy is throbbing. You just slow down and make love with her. Until she delivers the message.
"Breed me, Daddy," she tells you, making you flip a switch. The animal inside you awakens as you put her back against the edge of the bed and give her a hardcore mating press. The crowd in the comments starts to go wild. New viewership peaks are hit every second, and little did they know things were about to get spicier.
Yuna becomes your submissive fucktoy as you spread her cunt for viewers to see. You then slowly mount on her and ragdoll her body. "Holy shit, he's going to destroy her," the people in the comments say. The cameras capture what is essentially a real-life hentai. You, on top of her, press Yuna's body down the bed as you plow the shit out of her pussy. Her face completely disappears, as all viewers see now is her big ass bouncing at each thurst.
"Ahhhh, yessss, fuckkk," Yuna moans as your cock obliterates her pussy. Now you're only going to stop when you cum. The rampage keeps going on as the comments flood the chat. "Pump your cum deep inside her." "Keep fucking the shit out of that bitch," "Destroy this slut," "Look how hard her ass bounces," and so on.
"Give me, please, cum in my pussy; oh my God, give me your cum," Yuna begs, her voice cracking as she can barely stand straight after over an hour of pounding. You start screaming, and soon you grant her wish. "AHHHHHHHHHH," you yell as you empty your balls in her pussy, getting so addicted that you keep fucking her even after you finish.
"Holy fuck, he just can't stop," the people in the comments say as you fuck Yuna until your last drop of cum hits her pussy, resting on top of her with your cock still buried deep in her cunt as you kiss her. "Dang, that was hot," someone in the comments says.
You finally pull out of Yuna. Her pussy is filled to the brim. "Oh my God," she says, not even thinking straight. She was not on the pill and started thinking she'd get pregnant soon. You bring up a speculum and insert it in her cunt, showing viewers how much you filled it up. "Damn, bro turned her into a cum dump," one says as they watch your seeds resting in her throbbing cervix.
As you remove the speculum, Yuna masturbates herself, trying to expel the cum from inside her pussy, with the broadcast ending as she coats her camera full of her juices after a hard squirt. "Ohhh, fuck," are the last words as the livestream ends.
"You did so well today, you fucking whore; guess you missed daddy's cock," you tell Yuna, already off-camera. "And you missed my tight pink pussy, didn't you?" she replied back. You call your friend in the other room, who was operating the broadcast. It turns out he had come on his pants while doing so, unable to resist the sex appeal of Yuna.
The livestream ends up being an amazing success, getting lots of views and bringing tons of money to both of you and Yuna. "You made a great choice of thumbnail there," she tells your friend, talking about her choking on your cock.
Seeing the success of her first attempt, Yuna asks you:
"Hey baby, want to do another one?" she asked
"Maybe later, what do you want this time?" you reply
"I don't know. Maybe anal. A DP. Or even a gangbang where you watch me get destroyed by half a dozen cocks."
Damn, the more you give her, the more she wants. Yuna is, indeed, a very high-maintenance girlfriend.
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Out of Order
Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader
Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...
Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).
Word Count: 3003
Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏
Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world
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“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed.
It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there��and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.
And now this.
Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.
Late, late, late.
You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.
“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head.
The men’s locker room.
There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too.
Fuck, you really don’t want to do this.
But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.
You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.
Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.
Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.
You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.
You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.
The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.
You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.
Azriel.
Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.
Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.
“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.
“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.
Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.
You kind of like this look on him.
“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.
This is utterly humiliating.
Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.
Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.
The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.
“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.
You swallow roughly, “Good call.”
“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.
“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.
You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.
“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”
Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.
You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—
“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”
Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.
“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”
Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—
“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”
You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.
Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.
You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.
“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.
Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.
You really need to get the fuck out of here.
There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.
You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.
A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.
Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.
“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.
“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.
Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.
A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.
Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.
“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.
His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.
“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.
He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.
“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”
You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”
“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.
“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.
You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.
He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.
Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.
“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.
“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”
Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.
You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.
“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”
“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”
Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”
As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.
Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.
You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.
“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.
He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.
You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.
“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.
“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”
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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):
@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks
#acotar#azsazz#acomaf#azriel/reader#azriel x reader#azriel#hockey!azriel#hockey!bat boys#acowar#azriel smut
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°୨୧ NO CONTEST
+ kaiser x f!reader | wc 2.8k | content: fluff, friends to lovers, slight hints of jealousy, mentions of alcohol, they go clubbing
notes: help me i think i made myself fall for this guy even more after writing this shit for him > ⤙ <
summary: being just friends doesn’t mean much when neither of you really want to keep it that way. problem is, will either of you make the first move?
SPOTTED: KAISER-KAIA DUO HIT THE STREETS, NEW BUDDING ROMANCE?
“i like you though, y/n.”
it’s spring and the weather outside is the nicest it’s ever been in a while and you have every chance to enjoy it except for the fact that dear michael kaiser is lounging on your couch, rifling through the magazine he got in the mail.
“right, haha, very funny,” you mumble sarcastically, slumping down onto the other couch where kaiser isn’t sprawled all over.
sometimes, you think it’s funny how he’s portrayed as this hot, sexy, confident soccer player who can do no wrong when it comes to matters with his looks, but then in private he’s like… well, this. his bed head’s a mess, his room slippers are the fluffy-fuzzy kind, and much less high maintenance than everyone makes him out to be. (but you have to stop yourself from staring because kaiser doesn’t sleep in anything but his sweatpants during this season and well, where his abs are concerned, he’s definitely got no problems there.)
kaiser sighs in the overdramatic fashion that’s probably his trademark right about now. “y/n, y/n, what do i have to do to make you believe me?” he turns around, smirking at you as he raises a brow. maybe it’ll work on his countless fangirls, but after being friends with him for over six years, you’re probably immune to it.
“maybe you can just shut up and get ready for your event later.” you roll your eyes, sauntering to the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast, automatically making two of everything because kaiser loves to crash your apartment in the morning. (he really does need to learn about personal space.)
breakfast preparations go quietly. kaiser listens to you—he shuts up and starts getting ready for his event before coming back into your apartment, all fresh and ready to shamelessly eat the breakfast you made, staring at you from across the table whenever you’re not looking like he always does.
“kaiser-kaia duo hit the streets, new budding romance?”
“miko, don’t tell me you’re reading that gossip rag too,” you whine, looking for any excuse not to dive into your pile of work for the day.
your colleague swivels her chair over to your cubicle, looking around to make sure your bosses aren’t around to witness the both of you slacking off. “hey, isn’t he your friend? give me the tea! are they really dating?”
leave it to miko to get all excited about dating rumours. you really don’t know what’s so special about them—kaiser’s gotten so many of them ever since, well, forever. even before he became a soccer superstar.
you remember what kaiser said in the morning. “i like you though, y/n.” always ready with that smooth tongue of his. that aside, if he really was dating someone, you bet that they’d be staying over with him more often than not, and there’s really no harm in rejecting a rumor as opposed to confirming one.
“nope, they just happened to be waiting for a cab at the same spot.” and paparazzis love to snap a shot from misleading angles. now that you’re really looking at the article, they managed to make it look like kaiser’s kissing her cheek. you find yourself rolling your eyes at it and looking away.
miko sighs, leaning back against her chair. “man, that sucks, they look cute,” she comments, scrolling away from the online article before she gives you a suspicious side eye. “hey, you sure you’re not dating him?”
you still a little at the sudden line of questioning before turning your attention back to your laptop equally quickly. “if i was, i wouldn’t be so free all the time now, would i?” a response to which miko shrugs off and decides to let go of as she retreats back to her desk.
as much as you love miko as your colleague, you haven’t been as honest with her as you could. she knows you’re friends with kaiser, yeah, but she doesn’t know he’s basically your neighbour. she doesn’t know that he comes over all the time whenever it’s off season. she doesn’t know that the both of you have fallen asleep next to each other on the couch.
she doesn’t know a lot of things—like how your heart’s beating erratically now at the notion of being someone special to kaiser. it’s always been sweet nothings that you thought would stay that way, and you’ve always been short at realising your own feelings, so much so you were, once upon a time, positive you had zero romantic feelings for your friend.
now? you’re not so sure anymore.
seven days pass and kaiser’s been pestering you every single moment you’re free—like he always does—but today’s kind of a special day because it’s your birthday and it’s an hour away from your dinner party yet you’re not even close to ready.
your hair’s wet, you’re still in your loungewear, you have no idea what to wear and kaiser’s just flipping through the channels, half bored to death. for his part, at least, he’s already ready.
it’s not even fair how he takes just half an hour to get ready and yet he looks like he does. hair perfectly soft, and he’s wearing a nice black suit with a wine red dress shirt underneath, his tattoos peeking out here and there. if he wasn’t a soccer player, he’d definitely either be a model or a very charming businessman.
“too handsome for you?” kaiser smirks as he catches you looking, and you have to spin on your heels to avoid getting flustered (to his face).
“shut up, kaiser, i haven’t found anything to wear,” you groan, making a beeline for your bedroom. you really wished your friends hadn’t booked a high-end restaurant for little old you—then you could literally just throw on anything and be done with it.
kaiser, completely comfortable in your apartment, strolls into your bedroom with you and starts browsing through your closet, ignoring your protests. within seconds, he finds a dress and holds it out, a lopsided smile filling his face. “how about this?”
the wine red satin dress hovers in front of you, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat before you speak, feeling the line getting blurry. “trying to get me to coordinate outfits with you or something?”
you’re trying your best but your voice quivers just a little bit, and you bet that smug smile on his face that he can hear it. “why not? we look good together,” he shrugs, as though it’s no big deal but it’s hard to stop yourself from overthinking when lately the two of you have been flirting more often and serious than usual.
rolling your eyes and trying not to be too late, you grab the dress from him and change into it, spending some time to yourself to recollect, internally cursing him for being able to make you this flustered over nothing at all.
by the time you come back out into the living room, hair all done and accessories settled, this time, kaiser’s the one who’s caught staring, shameless in the way his eyes drag over you from head to toe. you’d tease him for it, but you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for his comeback so you refrain.
as you grab your go-to black heels and sit down to strap them on properly, kaiser’s quick to offer a hand, his lithe fingers taking your heel from you, slowly inserting your feet, his eyes lingering on your face and his thumb rubbing circles around your ankle. your eyes are glued to his own, and somehow it makes you even more nervous when he’s not joking around. when he looks at you like this—serious, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying anything at all.
the way he ties the straps are gentle and precise, tight but not too tight that it’ll hurt you. you’ve jokingly told him to help you tie your shoelaces before but he’s always refused. yet now he’s helping you put on your heels on both feet without saying a word and the way his hand lingers on your calf when he’s done is enough to make you melt.
on some other day, you’d joke with him and get him to let go. today, you’re silent.
kaiser chuckles, though, his hand casually brushing up your calf slightly before he pulls away, gently patting your head as he gets up.
“let’s go.”
dinner is agonising, enjoyable, agonising.
it’s nice; being seated around a table, enjoying small talk and nonsense with the same group of friends, catching up with people like kaiser and ness who’s been away a lot because of their profession.
yeah, that part’s nice. what’s agonising about it all is how close kaiser is to you, how his right hand casually drapes around your shoulder from time to time, shifting down to your thigh sometimes, making you go crazy.
it’s not like the both of you haven’t been close before, but you feel like maybe this time, it’s different. it’s not just the close proximity, it’s the intimacy of it all that has you inwardly keeling over. what’s worse is that you think you want it, him. in a way you didn’t think to think of before.
“you sure you’re not dating him?”
miko’s words ring repeatedly in your head. somehow, your answer’s changed from nope to you sort of wish you did. you bite your lower lip, absentmindedly laughing along even if you didn’t hear the joke at all.
“you okay?” the voice in your ear nearly makes you jump up from your seat.
on your right, ness is grinning as he looks at you, like he knows something’s going on in that little head of yours. you shake your head anyway, but ness shoots you a knowing smile as his eyes briefly shift to kaiser’s arm around you before winking at you.
fuck, is that really enough to make the heat rush to your cheeks?
“y/n?” one of your other friends calls out, snapping you back to the foreground.
“what?”
“next stop: new club downtown! orange, or grape, or whatever the fuck name it is,” he drawls, excited, “you up for it?”
before you even get the chance to agree, one of the other guys speaks up. “hey kaiser, speaking of clubs, didn’t that dating rumour come up recently? the one with, uh, kaia?”
readjusting himself, kaiser pulls away from you, taking a swig of his beer. “don’t remind me,” he groans, sighing.
“why not? she’s hot!”
there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t explain.
beside you, ness snickers. “tell ‘em what really happened, stupid.”
that manages to pique your interest.
kaiser sighs, resigning because he knows they’ll just keep hounding him if he refuses. “she tried her luck, that’s all,” he settles for something vague, trying to escape.
ness, however, ever the kind soul, expands on his words, making sure you hear every single bit—you’re not sure if he’s trying to egg you on or just see your reaction.
“please, she was trying to get you to send her home, no?” ness’ explanation gets a reaction out of the group, and you’re glad you all have a private room here so no one outside can hear you, servers included.
“shut up.”
“kaia and kaiser—has a nice ring to it.”
and even though kaiser doesn’t entertain that, you feel a little envy brewing inside you—one that you fail to drown out.
orange is filled with people; combining the fact that it’s holiday season and it’s the club’s launch night, it’s safe to say that there’s barely any room to breathe. still, your friends are all drunk on the alcohol, pulling one another to the dance floor, leaving you and kaiser at the table.
he’s still close as ever, his bare hands brushing yours, one of his arms around your waist, keeping you close.
“dance with me,” he raises his voice over the music. the way he smiles so genuinely now managing to make your heart skip a beat.
suppressing your grin, you wordlessly agree, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. he meanders the crowd skilfully, as expected considering he and ness are frequent clubbers. it’s only now that you realise you’d never gone to such a place with him, which is surprising considering your many years of friendship.
as you join your friends on the floor, you can’t help but notice how kaiser sticks to you and you alone, his hands on your waist, trickling up and down your arm, dancing along behind you. even surrounded by people, he commands your attention alone.
unfair.
but to kaiser, it’s unfair too. it’s not fair how you’re so pretty, it’s not fair how you’ve always been. it’s not fair that he’d fallen slowly for you, and now so so deep. how is it fair that even when he tries to forget you, when he tries not to mess with the friendship, that he ends up falling even more?
his eyes stay glued on you, shamelessly making sure no other man gets their hands on you—it’s fucking insulting how they try to get you to dance with them even when he’s right there. lucky for him, you’re not budging. you’re there. with him. only him. even if your other friends are here.
it’s just him and you and he wonders what you’re thinking. are you as flustered as he is right now? kaiser hasn’t even let himself drink more than one mug of beer, all because he knows this is a night he’d rather remember than risk forgetting.
“hey, isn’t that kaia?” one of your friends excitedly points out and kaiser follows his line of sight.
it is her, and she’s heading this way—but that’s not really important because what’s important is how kaiser noticed you’ve stopped dancing, awkwardly trying to shuffle away. it’s kind of funny, he swears he can tell that you might feel the same way about him. maybe you’re just more stubborn than he is.
so he keeps his arms around you, pulling you close.
“stay with me,” he whispers into your ear, and he suppressed a grin from the goosebumps searing across your neck. he guesses it’s a good sign you’re listening to him.
“kaiser, what’s up?” kaia greets, evidently trying to move for a hug but kaiser’s not budging, squeezing you closer instead.
he nods at her in acknowledgement before letting the rest of his friends throng around her for a photo.
once she’s sufficiently busy, he hears you speak up. “were you dancing with her that time too?”
kaiser manages not to snicker at your obviously jealous tone, “yeah, we went with a few other people after our shoot was wrapped up.”
you nod, and all kaiser can think of somehow is that your shampoo smells so nice. “oh, sure you don’t wanna dance with her again tonight then?”
are you testing him? it’s cute.
he shakes his head. “nah, i danced with her a lot that time already,” he teases, though he’s not too sure whether you’d take it like a joke like it was meant to. when you don’t respond, he chuckles, gently turning you to face him. “there’s one thing i didn’t do with her though.”
kaiser’s face is just inches away from yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek and he’s aware that everyone in the close vicinity is looking at the two of you but he doesn’t care.
honestly, he has to admit, he’s dreamed of doing this a thousand times over, always hovering between the decision to ruin this friendship or not. the thoughts were there whenever he’d wake up next to you on the couch. or whenever all of you met up and one of the other guys would throw their arms around you. or in the mornings when you made breakfast. there’s not a time he’s been sure whether this is what you wanted too.
hell, he’s not even sure now. but fuck, if he wastes another minute not trying he thinks he’ll kill himself for it. and he’s hoping to god this isn’t a dream because you’re not pulling away and you’re not treating this like a joke and it can only be because you want this too.
without another thought, his lips press against yours and it’s like the loud music drowns out into the background, getting lost and fading away. suddenly it’s like you’re the only thing in front of him and fuck, you taste even better than he can ever imagine.
“fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pressed against yours. “be mine?”
still breathless from that kiss, you chuckle weakly and nod, both of you earning whoos all around the room. (you make a mental reminder to tell miko before she winds up seeing this online before you get a chance to explain.)
and just like that, kaiser’s finally gotten the girl of his dreams.
“want you, baby, just you.”
the next morning, the two of you make the headlines.
LIPS LOCKED: KAISER & RUMORED GIRLFRIEND SHOW OFF THEIR LOVE
#bllk x reader#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x you#kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#michael kaiser x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#michael kaiser fluff#kaiser fluff#kaiser x reader fluff#૪ aeri’s fics !
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Part One Two
“I’m really sorry,” Steve is saying before Eddie has the door fully open, but it makes Eddie smile. It feels like Steve has started saying ‘I’m sorry,’ instead of ‘hello’ as a matter of course.
It’s Sunday afternoon though, and Eddie isn’t cooking anything and Steve isn’t holding an empty plate, so Eddie has no clue what Steve could be sorry for this time.
“Could you come and help me with something? It’ll just take two moments.”
“Sure thing,” Eddie agrees easily, slipping on his adventure crocs and following Steve down the hall.
Eddie follows Steve into and then through his apartment into the small bedroom. It’s a two bed apartment, the same as Eddie’s. Eddie uses his spare room to store his guitars. He has a desk in there too; a place to write and paint his miniatures and do guitar maintenance.
It’s a nursery. It’s cute, animal themed. The ceiling is painted powder blue, which drops down onto the walls about a foot before ending in a neatly done scalloped edge. The walls are white, but have cloud shapes printed on them in the same blue. There are random tufts of painted grass popping up from the floor; some with flowers. The rocker and the other furniture, including crib and chest of drawers, are all painted the same green, and the blinds are green jungle, with elephants and big cats and monkeys hiding amongst the leaves. A lot of the soft things are yellow and white, and Eddie has not a fucking clue as to the sex of Steve’s pup, so he asks as much.
Steve smiles, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I like surprises.”
“Huh. Well. I’m always the one shaking the gifts at Christmas, but I do love a surprise too. What did you need?”
“We have the fixings for the mobile there ready, but I clean forgot about it until now, and I’m too big to stretch up there. Didn’t do it at the time because we were moving furniture and I was frightened I’d break it.”
“Okay sure,” Eddie takes the dangly parts of the mobile; cute little moons and stars and sun shapes, and fixes it to the bit already attached to the ceiling. It’s nice, and easy to figure out, but it does hang low so he gets what Steve means.
He also sees why Steve can’t reach; he seems to have suddenly gotten even bigger over the last week, and he's also only been wearing these sort of loose shift dresses, like a blouse, a button up, and a tent had a horrendous love child.
He looks gorgeous though. Eddie always thought pregnancy must be pretty fucking miserable; your body betraying you almost. Needing to pee all the time, unreasonable hormones. Cravings. Morning sickness. Odd shit happening all over the place. Eddie always figured telling pregnant people that they’re ‘glowing’ was just a nice thing people said to make them feel better during what must be a pretty shitty nine months.
Not with Steve though. Steve’s actually glowing. Not like literally glowing but...he’s beautiful, and Eddie suddenly understands what all the fuss is about.
Steve clears his throat. Right. Right okay, Eddie’s creepy staring, “so I was going to make chicken parm again tonight, since I know you like it and it’s been a bit...do you maybe want to get out the apartment and come to another, slightly different, apartment?”
Steve laughs a little, looking at where his hands cradle his bump, before looking back up, cheeks pink, “I think I’d like that.”
Eddie’s laid the table as nice as he can. He snagged a little bunch of daisy looking things out of the garden and shoved them in a mug, just because he remembered Steve’s little daffodil.
He doesn’t own place mats, but he does dig out a table cloth he usually only uses for games night; it’s black, but it’s clean.
Steve settles himself at the table and Eddie goes and gets dinner, he can’t help but notice Steve shift in his seat, wincing.
“You okay?”
Steve hums, “been getting funny back pain, but it’s all normal. Could be anything really, just the weight of the baby, or maybe they are leaning on my sciatic nerve. It’s all fine. Nearly done now.”
Steve takes the first bite of his dinner and hums appreciatively. It makes Eddie warm inside, a little tickle of his brain releasing happy chemicals. Omega is being fed. Omega is safe and happy.
Eddie tells it to fuck off.
“So you’re due soon?” Which feels like he;s stating the obvious, Steve is the size of a tiny moon.
“Tomorrow.”
Eddie makes a noise, startled, then nearly chokes on a string of spaghetti, “excuse me,” he manages to get out, before drinking half his water, Steve looking half concerned and more than a little amused from the other side of the table. “Tomorrow?” Eddie asks weakly.
Steve nods, chewing and swallowing before he answers, “the due date is tomorrow, but it’s the norm really for first pups to go over that, even more normal with male Omega, don’t worry, it’s fine. Although it should be soon, I passed the mucus plug yesterday.”
Eddie nearly chokes again, “the what?” he tries his best not to sound too horrified.
“Oh. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about the uhm, the kind of gross stuff.”
“No, no, of course it’s fine what is...uhm...that?” And Eddie is fully prepared to regret acquiring this cursed knowledge. He doesn’t even know what it is and he’s already eyeing his spaghetti sauce dubiously. For Steve though...he will learn about the gross stuff.
“Oh, well, when you’re pregnant you get sort of this...lump of...gacky stuff and blood. You don’t have periods when you’re pregnant usually, so it kind of protects everything from infection getting in and stuff like that.”
Eddie takes a deep breath and lets it out, blowing up his bangs, and makes himself eat his dinner normally, “fair enough, but that means you’re...kinda’ close?”
“Well, kinda’. Robin’s spending this morning with her girlfriend and then this afternoon sorting her place out. She’ll be over later, she’s moving in until the pups a week old or so, just make sure I’m okay.”
“She’s...a really good friend, right?” It warms Eddie to know Steve has someone like that in his life.
“Yeah...she’s been there with me through everything. Every appointment, all the classes, everything. Even when I decided I wanted to do this it was...it was right after yet another crappy breakup, you know. She could have said all the sensible things about maybe it's not the right time yet, or that I should...think about it. You know, all that things that would have been totally reasonable for her to say but I'd just...I’d just had enough of waiting and she said she’d support me whatever, and that was that. She’s the best.”
Steve shifts again, putting down his cutlery to try and stretch his back out, hissing with pain, “you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asks, concerned.
“Yeah, fine I think,” Steve bends forward then, gripping the edge of the table and breathing out harshly through his nose, “oh that felt weird.”
Eddie’s up and coming around the table before he can stop himself, hovering his hands, not sure if it’s okay to touch, “Steve?”
“I...oh. Oh gosh I’m so sorry Eddie,” Steve stands cautiously revealing a very clear wet patch on the seat.
“I...that’s fine,” Eddie squeaks out, “are you...is this. Is that…?”
“Yeah, pretty sure my water just broke. And I really wanted that chicken parm,” Steve sighs.
“I can make it again,” Eddie says reflexively, “kind of feel like there’s bigger things to think about what should- like can I help? What do we do?”
Eddie finds himself, very strangely, not panicking. Like, well, maybe a little, but not an uncontrollable amount. Which now he’s here that’s a really nice surprise.
“I’ll just call Robbie, and then will you walk me home?”
And Eddie had maybe had inappropriate thoughts about walking Steve home so he could steal a kiss, not whatever this is. But. Still. “Of course.”
Steve smiles at him with his phone next to his ear, “it’s go time Birdie. Oh, what was I supposed to say? Code red? The eagle is...leaving? I can’t remember, you couldn’t make your mind up about the-” Steve hisses, bending to lean on the table, “yep, yep, see you soon.”
Steve hangs up, telling Eddie she’s on her way as they walk down the hall, dinner abandoned on the table. Steve chooses to stand, walking little laps back and forth along the back of the couch, “is there anything I can do?”
“My bag and car seat are in the nursery, if you don’t mind grabbing those?” Eddie does, putting Steve’s things right by the door, “oh, and a towel, from the bathroom? I don’t want to make a mess in Rob’s car.”
“Sure thing,” Eddie grabs a bath towel from there, and puts it on top, just as Steve’s phone starts ringing.
Eddie can practically feel it when Steve tenses up, his scent turning bitter with distress. Despite what’s going on, Steve’s scent hadn’t changed at all until now, “your car won’t start?”
He sounds terrified.
“I. Yeah. Okay. I can wait I’ll- okay.”
“Okay?” Steve shakes his head, eyes suddenly wet, he looks like he’s biting back tears and Eddie can’t stop himself from going to him.
“She’s got to wait for Chrissy to get to her place and pick her up, then they’ll come over,” Eddie has to make this better. He has to.
“Okay, how about this, me and you go now, I’ll take you, and they can meet you there? That’ll make it faster right?”
“I mean, I’m not...I mean labor can take hours and hours, I’m being silly I just- Eddie I’m a bit scared. She was supposed to be here, it’s a bit too soon.”
They end up holding hands, which Eddie’s kind of thrilled about even if Steve is squeezing the life out of him, “would you feel better if you were waiting at the hospital?”
Steve bites his lip, clearly torn, “are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’ll get my keys.”
Part Four
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#dustin henderson#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#ao3 author#ficlet#ao3 writer#mpreg
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NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING
IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!
𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)
ex husband! eddie x fem!reader
“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry
WC: ~950 words
3AM. The witching hour.
The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.
A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.
Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.
"What?! I'm trying to sleep."
"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."
There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.
"I’ll be there."
"Well?"
You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.
"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."
You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.
"Oh..”
You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.
"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"
"Some what?"
"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"
Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”
"You get this thing examined often?"
“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”
Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.
"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."
"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.
"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."
"Ok.”
"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”
"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.
"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.
He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.
"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"
“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”
He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.
"I just worry about you a lot."
You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"
He snorts. "Well yeah."
With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.
"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”
"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."
Eddie relaxes his shoulders.
"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."
"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.
Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.
He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.
"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.
'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."
"Well for you, always."
He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.
And he'd do it again.
———
🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)
@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths
#maddy’s mailbox ✨#blurb#eddie munson blurb#ex husband!eddie munson#Eddie munson x reader#ex husband!eddie x reader#ex husband!eddie munson x reader
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I am NOT a Sadist (I am) || Minors DNI
Summary; Sorry, not sorry. I love when there’s hurt feelings with emotional make-up sex :)
Tags; Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, Angst, Mentions Of Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I Totally Projected My Poor Communication Skills Onto The MC, Also Self Sabotaging, But She Gets Better I Swear, I Project A Lot Actually Lmao, Sounds Kind Of Like An Unhealthy Relationship At First But They Fix It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, They Do Hurt Each Other’s Feelings A Little, Obviously There’s Crying, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Sweetheart, Sweet Girl, etc.), Mention Of Phone Sex, Handjob, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Make-Up Sex, Creampie, Lowkey Breeding Kink If You Squint, Actually Pretty Vanilla For Once, Pussy Is Chuuya’s Therapy, Classic Missionary, Missionary Accomplished, Why Does No One Talk About Chuuya Going On His Overseas Trips And Leaving His S/O For Months At A Time, I Feel Like It’s Such A Good Angst Idea, My Longest Oneshot Yet Btw At A 5k Wordcount.
The honeymoon phase of your relationship with Chuuya ended quicker than you had anticipated. It felt like a slap in the face in all honesty, unexpecting of what you were really getting into as a normal civilian. Being married to an executive of the port mafia had its many upsides, yet no one really seemed to talk about the downsides and struggles of the mental toll that weighed on your conscience that came with the title as Chuuya’s wife.
Chuuya had always been there when you needed him, and you were grateful that even with his rough exterior and conflict with opening up emotionally he could empathize with your varying issues and emotional outbursts. You tried not to be emotionally high maintenance for the sake of Chuuya already having so much on his plate, and things had seemed to be going well for the time being.
Until he went away for his first overseas trip during your marriage.
It was normal for Chuuya to take overseas trips while you were dating, some lasting a few days to a few weeks at most and during those times you often texted him throughout the day about how much you missed him before calling later on when he was lying exhausted in a hotel room to talk about how both of your days had gone. Of course, it had often led to phone sex, ending with the camera angled against a pillow while your fingers worked in and out of your neglected, needy pussy– your face buried into his pillow and smothering your senses with what was left of his presence in your apartment. And Chuuya would stroke his throbbing length at the sight with languid motions, thumb swiping over his leaking tip as he murmured through the speaker about how he wished he could be there to feel you split open on his cock and fill you up with his cum. And every time he came back from his trips, your relationship seemingly grew stronger from the distance, spending all his free time with you whenever he got the chance.
And then Mori sent him away on a half year mission to Europe and everything seemed to go to shit.
It was different when you had been dating as it was for a few days to some weeks at most, but a six-month excursion made your throat clench and your heart ache with saudade. You tried to keep a positive mindset, yet it was harder as each day had passed and Chuuya grew too tired from the days’ events to even call anymore. Messages on his side grew shorter and dull by the end of the third month, only sending a small good morning and good night text with the occasional ‘I love you’.
Instead of bringing it up or attempting to fix it, you felt a sense of hopelessness and withdrew from him as well, not wanting to burden him with your spamming messages or feelings that could hinder him while dealing with an important mission. You spent the next three months stewing in a depressive state, loneliness eating away at you as you went day to day going to your job and coming back to an empty apartment. You stopped going out with your friends, stopped bothering to take care of yourself– completely ruining your sleeping and eating schedule in the process– leaving you with dark bags under your eyes and slightly paler looking complexion. You had grown so comfortable in Chuuya’s love and had no idea how to handle the situation you were in, fearing of saying something that would upset him.
When Chuuya had come back, he hadn’t noticed the change in your behavior– too tired himself to see the toll his absence had taken on you. But to you, your straining relationship was apparent, and it only fueled your depression as Chuuya spent less time with you when he got back home than he used to when you were dating. He was either working on other missions given by Mori within the area or spent his free time sleeping. You barely felt as if you were married anymore, your relationship seeming more like roommates who rarely ever interacted every passing day.
Your deteriorating mental health was beginning to wear your mind and patience thin, leading to a series of outbursts and fights between the two of you. You’d snap at him with an antagonizing start, and he’d finish with a frustrating end, either leaving to cool off or going to sleep on the couch. You could tell it was getting to him because he confronted you one day after he had mentioned that Mori was thinking about sending him on another grueling months-long overseas mission in America and you gave him the cold shoulder, closing yourself off from him.
“What the hell has been your problem lately, huh? You’ve been acting shitty for the last few weeks and it’s really starting to get on my nerves,” He gripes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he leans against the kitchen counter.
“I don’t have a problem, you’re the one starting things,” You tiredly glare at the words in your novel, wanting to read and forget everything falling apart around you, but it’s hard when Chuuya persists.
Chuuya scoffs, “Bullshit, you have this nasty attitude and it's been bothering the hell out of me– so what the hell is your problem?” He repeats, his eyes burning holes into the side of your apathetic expression from across the room.
“Good thing you won’t have to deal with it for long, huh?” You respond flatly, avoiding his question once again. You and Chuuya have always had an issue with things like this due to him being blunt when he was upset about something while you tended to dance around it and drawl the problem on longer than it had to be than if you were to talk about your problems from the start.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” His jaw sets, teeth clenching behind his scowl, “You know it annoys the hell out of me when you say cryptic shit like that— answer my question.” Chuuya’s temper was something no one enjoyed testing and you once feared setting him off, but now you couldn’t find it in you to care whether he blew up on you or not.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your next mission?” You’re metaphorically poking more than just a bear at this point; this is an entire fucking lion you’re sticking your hand into the mouth of– waiting for it to rip you apart.
Chuuya’s steps are heavy as he approaches you with a stern glare, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, I’m tired of these games, [name].”
His words make you snort bitterly as you mock, “Yeah, okay– like you’re not just Mori’s lapdog– at his every beck and call.” You know he’d leave the minute Mori sent a text or called asking where he was.
Chuuya’s face contorts in mild surprise and slight hurt at your words, not expecting you to stoop so low as to refer to him as a lapdog for Mori. “I really don’t know why the fuck you’re acting like this, but it’s seriously pissin’ me off. Can you just tell me what I supposedly did wrong to make you treat me like this? Because last time I checked, I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” His statement was ironic in the sense that him not doing anything was the problem.
Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale in spiteful amusement, though nothing was amusing about it, because you knew you were going to regret everything you said after the fight was over.
“Of course, you didn’t,” There’s clear sarcasm in your tone, your hands now messing with the pages of your novel mindlessly.
“Why won’t you just talk to me!? I can’t read your mind– how can I fix a problem when you won’t tell me what I did wrong?” He starts to raise his voice in frustration. You can see his fists clenching from the corners of your eyes.
You only remove yourself further emotionally by shutting down completely. It was common for you to go completely non-verbal in any argument, the stress of the conflict physically affecting you in ways that kept you from speaking– like your throat tightening and tongue growing heavy in your mouth. This was another issue between you and Chuuya as he was the type to raise his voice whilst arguing to make himself and his feelings known, the complete opposite of yourself.
An inkling of doubt buries in your chest as you begin to think that maybe you’re not as compatible with Chuuya as you thought you were.
Chuuya notices your silence and he feels his impatience growing, his foot starting to tap against the floor with agitation as his hands fall to rest on his hips, “God dammit, [name], can you just tell me? I’m not in the mood to play detective and try to figure out why you’re playing your fucking games, I have shit to do.”
You find it in you to respond, though it’s weak and filled with animosity, “You always have shit to do.”
An exasperated sigh leaves Chuuya as he stands in front of you, “Is that what this is about? Because I have work? A job? Believe it or not, the mafia isn’t as lenient as to give me a day off, sweetheart,” He says sarcastically, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Sorry that I have to serve an organization that will literally have my head if god forbid, I even thought about leaving!”
“You don’t even spend time with me anymore when you do have time off,” You rasp, your eyes set on the crumbling pages underneath your fingertips.
“I’m exhausted because I’m constantly working my ass off! Sorry that I can’t do fuck whatever and whenever like you can! Unlike you, I actually work for the things I want instead of sitting around and waiting for it to just fall into my lap!” Your brows furrow at his words, knowing it’s utter bullshit. But it still gets under your skin.
You could easily quit your job and live off of the makings of what Chuuya has— he’s even offered the idea before— but you wanted to keep a sense of independence and to continue to be productive instead of a burden that burns cash. Your conclusion is that it was to get back at your lapdog comment.
“And you know what? You have nothing to fuckin’ complain about because you get everything you want. Are you just bored? Is that why you’re starting shit? Or is it those friends of yours filling your head with bullshit?” He leans over to your eye level, his hands resting above his knees for support with a firm stare into the side of your face as you refuse to make eye contact with him.
You were over this. All of it. You were tired of the tension, the fighting, feeling the way you were.
Which led the next words to slip out from your mouth without a second thought, “I want a break.”
Chuuya’s scowl quickly shifted to a look of pure bewilderment, to immense hurt and slight panic, then to anger, “A break? You can’t just take a break whenever something doesn’t go your way, that’s not how this works.”
“I don’t care, I want a break,” It’s getting difficult to talk again as you feel your eyes begin to water.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that,” He demands, almost hesitantly.
It takes minutes for you to finally look into his piercing gray eyes without crying and repeat your words, “I want a break.”
His body straightens and he brings a hand to rub at his eyes, his other hand on his hip. He seems disappointed and a whole lot of other emotions, but mostly frustrated at this whole ordeal. There’s a deafening silence before he drags his hand down his face and lets it fall to his side, “You want a break? Fine, I’ll tell Mori I’m going on the mission then and be gone by tomorrow morning— you’ll get your break.” He then storms off to finish getting ready for work, leaving you to sit alone on the couch, regretting everything that just happened.
And even when you still have the chance to stop him from walking out the door and just talk to him, you don’t. Instead, you stare down at the ring on your finger numbly, listening to his heavy footfalls as they move towards the front door and then the slamming that follows when he leaves.
You soon break down crying after, feeling as if you’ve lost everything. You know you could easily fix it with a simple text of wanting to talk things out, but the self-sabotaging nature in you refused to move a muscle. You cry for hours until your body grows exhausted, and you fall asleep on the couch in a tangled mess of some throw blankets and decorative pillows.
Hours later, Chuuya enters your shared apartment quietly, taking his hat off as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s tired just as much as you are with how things are going in your relationship, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and trying so desperately to figure out how to fix it, but he can’t when you won’t tell him what the problem is. He knows you struggle deep down with telling others about how you feel, and it makes him feel hopeless at times when you won’t even tell him how you feel.
His eyes trail over the living room before they fall on you and the blankets your body is buried under, your sleeping face peeking through. Chuuya takes light steps over to the couch before crouching in front of you and taking off one of his gloves, his hand slowly reaching out to move a few baby hairs away from your face. His eyes soften when he rubs away the tear stains on your cheeks with his thumb.
There’s a small ache in his chest from the events and words exchanged earlier, feeling a growing tightness in his throat. He didn’t mean it when he said those things and he knows you didn’t mean what you said. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt any less.
He begins to feel guilt weighing on his consciousness. He replays all your expressions and words in his mind and starts to think about your reaction to the whole reason the fight started in the first place. It takes a few moments of him silently sitting next to the couch and caressing your face mindlessly until he finally realizes what’s been wrong the whole time.
When you wake up hours later, you’re no longer on the couch, but placed comfortably in your bed. You rub the crust from your eyes and feel a heavy weight in your chest like a bag of stones when the spot next to you is void of Chuuya. ‘He actually left,’ You thought, but you knew you had no one to blame but yourself— even if you had hoped that he would stay. Now fully awake, you slip out of bed sluggishly and shuffle out your bedroom.
A faint voice from the living room catches your attention and you notice that it’s the TV. There’s a small spark of hope that flickers in your stomach as you slowly creep into the living room. Relief settles in your heart to see the back of Chuuya’s head peeking from the couch. You make your way around the couch timidly until you’re in Chuuya’s sights. He stares tiredly at the TV before he sees you move into his view from the corner of his eye and looks over to you.
“I… thought you were going to go on the mission…” You whisper, anxiously twisting and fidgeting with the end of your oversized shirt that slightly hangs off your shoulders.
“I had Mori get someone else to do it,” Chuuya responds quietly, his eyes traveling your figure from top to bottom before propping an arm on the backrest of the couch as a silent invitation for you to sit next to him.
As soon as you sit next to him, his arm shifts until his callous hand rests on the nape of your neck, rubbing at your skin in a soothing manner. He pulls you into his side after a few moments and turns his face slightly to press a soft kiss against your hairline.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” He starts off, sincere in each word as he continues, “Why didn’t you say anything?” It sounds almost rhetorical because you know he knows why on a surface level, but he doesn’t know why.
You’re silent for a bit before hesitantly answering, “I didn’t want to stress you out by making you feel like you had to constantly tend to me.”
“You’re my wife, not a burden. No matter how stressed out I am, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t come to me with your feelings or just to bother me. I know I was gone for a long time, and I shouldn’t’ve become as distant as I had, but–” He sighs out in exasperation, “–Baby, you’ve gotta communicate with me. I don’t wanna fight like this and worry about our marriage. I want us to work out– I need us to work out because…” Chuuya trails off before moving his body to turn towards you and tilt your chin up with his other hand to look you in the eyes.
“I need you, [name]. You’re my person. Okay?”
Your chest throbs and aches at his words as his slate gray eyes flicker over your face and then meet your now watering eyes, “You’re my person too, Chuuya. I’m sorry…” You croak out through quivering lips and break down into tears, leaning forward to bury your face into his chest. “M’sorry– didn’t mean anything I said last night– won’t do it again,” You stumble over your words through muffled sobs.
Chuuya moves his hand from your chin to hold the back of your head, pressing you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head, “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said either. You know I love you, right?”
You nod, your small sobs and hiccups muted by his loose tank top as you hug your arms around his torso to pull him to you as close as possible, “I love you too…”
He pulls you back reluctantly from your embrace and cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, “I promise that I’ll make an effort to be a better husband, I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. I shouldn’t have neglected you like that and made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. That’s the last thing that I want.”
“I’m gonna do better too, promise,” You sniffle, trying to hold back from anymore tears falling down your face, “Wanna be better for you.”
“I wanna be better for you too, doll,” He murmurs before his face grows closer to yours to place a soft, innocent kiss against your lips.
Your hands come to clasp over his own that cup your face and your eyes lull into his fond gaze, “I missed you,” You whisper with longing.
“I missed you too, baby. It killed me not being able to wake up next to you every morning n’see your pretty face,” He exhales gently, kissing you again.
Your heart stutters at his words and you reciprocate the kiss, refusing to pull away as quickly as before. When your lashes flutter open, you lean your face into his touch, “I need you, Chuuya,” And it’s clear to him that it wasn’t meant in just an innocent manner.
“Yeah? Missed me that much, sweet girl?” His nose nudges against yours affectionately before capturing your lips into a sensual kiss. Feeling his lips smother against yours and the ring on his finger to remind you of his undying love and devotion to you only encourages the simmering heat in your chest and lower stomach. And when he mumbles a muffled, “C’mere,” against your lips, you’re quick to climb into his lap and thread a hand into his ginger hair. He hums in amusement at your eagerness and moves his lips to trail pecks along your jaw and down your throat, “Always were so needy f’me and I fuckin’ love it– love everything about you, doll.” He groans under his breath, hands heavily groping at any part of your plush body to keep you against him.
“Only for you, it’s always been you,” You breathe out with a shaky exhale and Chuuya is unable to hide the small whimper that escapes the back of his throat.
“Fuck, it’s always been you too, doll. I love you so much it hurts,” He pulls you back down into a desperate and hungry open-mouthed kiss, his tongue seeking out until his muscle is entangling with yours.
Your face flushes with warmth as you mold your lips against his feverishly, head tilting to deepen the kiss until you’re both panting for air into each other’s mouths, “Please…” You plead, squirming in his lap.
“I know, babydoll, I feel it too,” Chuuya groans quietly, feeling your thinly clothed pussy skim over the bulge in his gym shorts. “Wanna take this slow though, need to feel all of you, okay?” His hands cup the bottom of your thighs as he moves off the couch to stand up, your lips not parting for even a second as he makes his way to your bedroom and over to the bed. When his shins bump against the bottom frame of the bed, he leans over to lay you down on the mattress gently, lips leaving yours to move back down the expanse of your neck. You shiver, fingers messily tangling into his locks of hair whilst your other hand finds its way in between your bodies to run your hand over his erection. “F-Fuck,” Chuuya breathes out against the skin of your throat, hips jerking forward into your touch. “God, it’s been so long, I almost came,” He admits with embarrassment before latching onto a small patch of your skin to suckle at, pressing kisses to the spot occasionally.
“Baby, please— wanna touch you so bad,” Was all you had to whine before he slips his baggy gym shorts off to reveal his stiff, throbbing cock. Your hand wraps around him, thumb pressing to his leaking slit to swipe at the precum dribbling out to spread it along his length with a few pumps of your hand. There’s a quiet “schlick” each time your wrist flicks to draw your hand back up to his angry mushroom tip before moving back down to the base of his shaft.
Chuuya is unashamed when he lets out airy moans against your neck that’s now littered with his love marks, “Shit, you’re s’fuckin’ good, baby— just like that.” His right hand finds its way under your large shirt to grab at your underwear and pull at it until it tears off you.
“Chuuya,” You whine in complaint, watching him toss the now torn fabric onto the floor, “I liked those.”
“S’okay, I’ll get you more, sweetheart, promise,” His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he slips his middle and ring finger through your folds to spread your glistening sex open. “Look at how fucking wet you are, you like jerkin’ me off that much, pretty girl?” He groans, eyes glued to your hole clenching around nothing.
You bury your face into the crook of his neck timidly as your hand pumping around his cock falters slightly from the way he talks, “C-Chuuya…”
Chuuya chuckles before softly moaning into the side of your head, face nuzzling affectionately into your hair, “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy, look at how your sweet little cunt takes my fingers.”
Flustered, you peek from his neck to watch his digits dip into your arousal, dragging them up to circle over your clit a few times and then slipping down to sink into your pulsing walls. Whilst his fingers weren’t considered long, they have you twitching from pleasure with how thick they are. “Feels good,” You slur out as your hand squeezes around the base of his cock.
“Yeah? You love it when I stretch this pussy out with my fat fingers, huh?” He sucks in a short breath as he tries not to come right then and there in your hand as he fingers his digits in and out of your squelching pussy. “My sweet girl likes having her hole stuffed by her husband, hm,” His fingers work faster in and out of your cunt as he angles his thumb to draw rough circles into your needy clit.
Your grip and stroking around his length only continues to falter as your thighs spasm softly, “M’gonna come— fuck— Chuu, noo, no, no…” You squirm, your other hand tugs his hair.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Chuuya’s fingers slow to a stop, causing you to whimper from the ebbing buildup of your orgasm. He’s the same as you when he feels your hand come to a stop around his shaft.
“Wanna come on your cock,” You mumble into him, “Want you to fill me up with your cum.”
Chuuya feels his heart thrum in his throat wildly as he hears you speak before making quick work of your shirt and his tank top until you're both as bare as you were when you were brought into the world. “Yeah? Need me to fill your cute pussy up until my cum is spilling outta ya?” He hovers over you between your spread thighs as he hooks your legs over his hips.
“Just wanna feel you close to me,” You admit with a sweet and quiet voice, your legs drawing him in until his throbbing cock is rubbing between your pussy lips with his tip nudging at your puffy clit.
His eyes widen barely before softening, his movements becoming less erratic and eager as he leans down to place a gentle kiss against your lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll, m’gonna take care of ya like I always do.” He whispers, his right hand moving to guide the tip of his cock against the entrance of your core. Much like his fingers, his thick length bullies into your warm pussy slowly, stretching and splitting you open on his cock. “Fuuuuck, baby, you take me so well. Can’t get enough of seeing you stretch open on me.”
Your legs tighten around him as you feel his hips press against yours until his balls are flush with your ass, “You’re s’big— it hurts every time, but it hurts good,” A small whimper leaves you as your hands grip at the bedsheets.
When Chuuya pulls away, he watches his cock twitch from the loss of warmth your tight hole provided before seeing it stretch you back open to fill you. “God, I’ll never get over you,” He hisses through his teeth, pistoning his cock in and out of you at an agonizing pace, “Your pussy was made for me.”
Chuuya’s gaze isn’t on where your bodies connect for long before he’s back to hovering over you, pinning your hands above your head. They’re placed palm up on top of one another before being locked in place with his left hand interlocking your fingers. The action makes your heart tighten with affection as well as your fingers when you squeeze his hand. The subtle noise of metal clinking from your wedding bands only makes your heart swell with pure unadulterated love for him further. Your eyes start to water again from the overwhelming emotions and love you feel for him.
He squeezes your hand back in comfort, eyes studying your teary face, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that, doll?” He says out of nowhere, “M’so lucky to have you.”
You clench around him as you stare back through blurry eyes back into his focused ones, moaning from the way his tip kisses at your g-spot with each thrust. “Mm— Lucky to have you too— you’re so good to me, Chuu,” You mewl out, feeling your stomach twist and coil with intensity.
“Want you to come for me, please, baby— wanna make you come,” Chuuya’s words grow more pitchy and airier as he reaches his right hand down to rub at your throbbing clit with vigor.
“A-Ah, fuck—“ Your body arches, hips erratically bucking into his, “C-Coming..! Shit, s’too much.” You sob, tears slipping down your temples and into the mattress. Your cries are soon silenced by Chuuya’s lips swallowing your noises in a passionate, yet sloppy kiss. You muffle incoherently against his lips, but he knows it’s a repeated line of I love you’s as your nails dig into the back of his hand and you cream around his length.
As your walls spasm around his twitching cock, a guttural groan leaves his throat and he spills his hot, viscous cum deep into your starving pussy until it’s leaking out of your tight hole and down his balls. “Atta girl…” He murmurs through pants, kissing your sweaty forehead lovingly.
“I love you,” You repeat gently one last time as you both relish in the softness of your afterglow.
“I love you too,” Chuuya sighs with a ghost of a smile on his face as he admires you underneath him, hand coming down from your hands to wipe away your stray tears, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, doll? Cause I’ve still got years of loving you left to go.”
#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya smut#chuuya nakahara smut#bsd x reader#bsd smut#devious dambi smuts
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ZZZ Headcanons
Help this game has taken over my free time I love these characters sm <3 Billy Soukaku and Ellen my beloved
Nicole: has a not so secret hobby of bedazzling anything and everything. It’s a real problem in the Cunning Hares apartment, nothing is safe from pink rhinestones and stickers
Anby: cracked at rhythm games to an alarming degree. Can do a 2 person extremely hard DDR song all by herself
Billy: I don’t know how they did it but they programmed an android with autism. Has his own version of a skincare routine which is basically just maintenance on all of his tiny mechanical parts. Can also gain power multiple ways, including solar power. The apartment complex where the Cunning Hares live had a blackout once and everyone used Billy as a personal charging port. Nicole promised to pay him in Starlight Knight merch.
Nekomata: cuts her own hair and offers to do it for other people. DO NOT trust her when she says she’s good at it
Grace: did gymnastics as a kid which is why she’s able to pull off a ton of backflips and flexible maneuvers in battle
Anton: uses actual cement to keep his hair spikes in shape. Koleda caught him in the act once and instead of chewing him out, she decided to apply some to her own hair and now they’re cement combover gang
Ben: is completely vegan and loves chilling at hot springs a lot. Still sleeps with stuffed animals btw
Koleda: I’m making it canon right now Koleda is trans and you can’t do shit about it. Also has welding as a hobby and made most of her accessories from scratch
Corin: when not in Victoria Housekeeping Co uniform, is a Jfashion junkie. I’m talking super dedicated Lolita fits, menhera inspired clothing, the whole shebang. She ofc designs a lot of her own stuff like her bear backpack and is also responsible for a lot of the accessories Victoria Housekeeping Co wears (Rina’s bows, Ellen’s shark jaw head and neckpieces, Lycaon’s eyepatch and tail straps). She also has a massive crush on Ellen and is too scared to admit it
Rina: has a fur allergy and can’t keep animals around. Which also means she’s allergic to Lycaon. She has to take so much Zyrtec before clocking in but has such a good poker face that Lycaon has no idea. Ellen knows tho
Lycaon: specifically wears the heeled boots and has his odd posture because he’s self conscious about his digitigrade legs, he thinks they’re unsightly for a butler of his standing to have. He also tries to encourage Ellen to wear a long maid dress like Rina does to hide her tail.
Ellen: coincidentally falls into a lot of shark stereotypes. She loves seafood, has to constantly be fidgeting or she feels like she’ll go mad, and the kicker, she gets frenzied around blood, or if the thing she’s fighting puts up a struggle. Corin accidentally cut her hand while repairing her saw blade once and both Lycaon and Rina could barely hold Ellen back once Corin began bleeding. Ellen feels awful for scaring the already timid girl. Corin secretly thought it was hot and would die on the spot if anyone knew that
Soukaku: despite being a huge foodie this girl cannot cook for shit. Is also physically cold to the touch and during the summer her coworkers will ask her to hold their drinks because they’ll stay cold. Soukaku always secretly sneaks sips every time they do this to her.
Miyabi: has the worst sleep schedule known to man. Sometimes you’ll find her awake at 3AM and conked out by 4PM, other times she goes to bed at 8PM and wakes up at 4AM. It’s inconsistent and irregular and a gamble trying to contact her outside of work because she might not even be awake
Harumasa: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY. Also pretty cracked at chess and other strategy games. Is also a major old fashioned guy and doesn’t own a lot of modern technology. He’s not into retro or old stuff, he just doesn’t like new stuff
Yanagi: her glasses are fake. When she was younger she needed them, but her vision had naturally gotten better over the years, so she now wears contacts, but for some reason still insists on wearing her glasses. Loses them constantly during battle.
Lucy: even though she was forced to play piano as a kid, she really wanted to be a sporty girl and play stuff like soccer and baseball. Now she has the freedom to take part in the sports she likes and watch them surrounded by the people she likes
Piper: insanely picky eater to the point it drives Lucy up a wall. Is also picky about a lot of other things, like how different fabrics feel, different comfort levels of chairs and beds, girl is a complainer and will always find something to complain about
Lighter: has a side gig as a tattoo artist, has really stable hands too
Soldier 11: has 5 younger brothers, a younger sister, and 2 older siblings who she doesn’t see super often. Has divorced parents who also liked to adopt, which is why she has such a huge family. Her younger brothers love it when she comes home and plays secret agent military with them
Seth: can’t drive. That’s it send tweet.
Qingyi: is outwardly dismissive of meditation tricks and hacks and tips but utilizes that shit in private ALL the time.
Zhu Yuan: shares the vegetables she grows in her garden with all her neighbors. Is also a REALLY good cook to the point people have encouraged her to potentially consider a different career path
Jane Doe: the rat girl has pet rats go figure. But in all seriousness she’d die for her little guys. She has a white one named Cocaine and a brown one named Tobacco and a gray one named Crystal Meth. She thinks the names are hilarious and every time she introduces the rats to other people their facial expressions are priceless
#zenless zone zero#zzz#zzz headcanons#billy kid#anby demara#nicole demara#nekomiya mana#Soukaku#hoshimi miyabi#harumasa zzz#yanagi zzz#koleda belobog#ben bigger#anton ivanov#grace howard#corin wickes#ellen joe#alexandrina sebastiane#von lycaon#piper wheel#luciana de montefio#lighter zzz#zhu yuan#qingyi#seth lowell#soldier 11#zenless zone zero headcanons
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I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-
I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)
(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)
bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake
Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon
Oh I can definitely work with this ^^
......
When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.
"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.
Easy as pizza pie, right?
Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.
Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.
So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.
Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.
"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.
Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.
Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"
But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.
You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.
On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.
While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.
Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.
Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.
The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.
But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.
Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.
He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!
Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.
So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.
When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.
He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.
But as it turns out, you love your job!
You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.
And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).
Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.
Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.
Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.
But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.
Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.
Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.
"Was he just laughing at us...?"
"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."
Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.
#clanask#phone coffee anon#fnaf x reader#five nights at freddy's x reader#fnaf movie x reader#fnaf movie spoilers#platonic#teen reader#mike schmidt#freddy fazbear#bonnie the bunny#chica the chicken#foxy the pirate#headcanons
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FEELS LIKE A THRILLER! ᯓᡣ𐭩
12. #NOTACANNIBAL written chapter | 2.8k words
“WHAT, YOU DON’T feed your plants?”
Seunghan tilts his head. “... Why should I?”
“Then what the hell kind of owner are you, dude?” you accuse, adjusting the strap of your bag as the two of you head towards the car parking lot. “Who doesn’t feed their plants?”
Seunghan pauses, eyebrows furrowing, before a smile breaks out on his face and then he’s throwing his head back to laugh. He opens the door of the passenger seat for you, saying, “You mean, like, feeding them fertilizer? Wait, how often do you feed them anyway?”
“Everyday.”
Seunghan looks concerned. “Um, I don’t think that’s right…”
You shrug, hopping into the car. “My plant seems to love it, though. It has never looked this alive! That obviously means I’m doing something right, right?”
He blinks when the door finally shuts, wondering how that even works. What kind of plant do you even have in the first place to require fertilizer every single day? He thought it’d be just some room plant, something low-maintenance, but maybe you’re actually a secret plant-connoisseur since you’ve been keeping it alive all this time? Hell, for all he knows, you’re probably developing your own venus flytrap that could digest a whole-ass elephant or something… a part of some secret society with mad scientists obsessed with plants and Seunghan’s just none the wiser…
He promptly starts the vehicle, dismissing such thoughts. He really needs to stop watching those crazy Sci-Fi movies with Sohee every Wednesday.
When the car finally gets out of school property, Seunghan takes one quick glance at you. “So,” he starts, hands admittedly a bit clammy as he steers the wheel and stops at a red light. “Anywhere you’d like to go? I was thinking maybe we should get some food, or something. We should have really planned this out, huh?”
A notification ping suddenly rings out after he finishes; an awfully familiar sound at that.
“Do not open your goddamn phone to play Pokemon Go right now, Seunghan,” you warn, and he immediately deflates at how easily you’ve read him. Then, you smile sweetly, “But, yeah, we can go get something to eat first!”
He laughs anyway, swerving towards downtown. “Alright. Also, I wasn’t even going to open Pokemon Go. Just saying.”
“Yeah, okay, and I’m definitely not going to jump out into oncoming traffic right now.”
“Please don’t.”
After spending some time eating at a nearby cafe Eunseok has been asking to go together with the guys, the two of you manage to get through a whole hour without glancing at each of your phones, too focused on the other to truly care whether or not there are pokemons in the area. During that whole hour of you casually attempting to flirt with Seunghan in your own little way, you find that perhaps he’s not as obsessed with the mobile game as much as you believed him to be—which is good, even though you do find it a little bit cute, but at least he’s not addicted or something.
Seunghan pulls out his phone after you’ve stepped out of the establishment. “Holy shit? There’s a Piplup just a block away!”
“Seriously?” you squawk.
“Yeah!” he excitedly responds, only to end up getting smacked on the arm. “Oh, not what you meant. Okay.”
You give him a fixed stare. He returns it.
“Can we please catch it?” Seunghan pleads, forming his hands into a prayer.
You falter, attempting to look at anywhere but his face. Hot nerds are a curse, you think miserably.
“Please, Y/N? It’s Piplup!” he continues, finally taking your hands in his. You flush, believing that he can just go ahead and go catch the damn pokemon himself but instead chooses to spend more time begging you to go with him in order to catch it together. Right. Because you’re on a date. And Seunghan isn't an asshole. Right. Guy who had a girlfriend for four years over here. Someone already cooked before you.
“Okay, fine,” you finally surrender, mentally cursing yourself for going down such a rabbit hole. Who cares about his ex-girlfriend? She was the past, and you’re the present (hopefully)! “But just Piplup!”
Seunghan laughs, crossing the road with you. “I promise I won’t make this a Pokemon Go date.”
He’s still holding your hand. Like a real couple. You have to mention it.
“You better not,” you say instead, squeezing his hand in return.
After acquiring the stupid Piplup loitering by a fire hydrant next to a pissing dog, Seunghan leads you back to his car to spend a couple more minutes marveling at the 25th Piplup on his screen, before starting the ignition to make your way towards the arcade. There he finally pockets his phone and drags you towards the nearest racing game, where you both duke it out in a Fast & Furious racing game, with you ultimately ending up as the winner after two rounds. Of course, you made sure to rub it in Seunghan’s face for a good three minutes, before he’s dragging you towards the claw machines like every arcade date out there.
Amidst the presence of screaming children and tired parents chasing after them, Seunghan holds your hand as if it was second nature, the sight of his back a constant reminder that he’s not willing to lose you among the crowd and the dirty, soda and gum-flavored floor.
You wonder if this is what it would have felt like had you been his girlfriend in high school. Sitting next to each other in class while trying to ignore your friends’ teasing remarks, partnering up for school projects, doing community service together, or buying snacks right after school and heading to the arcade. Then he’d walk you home, or depending when he got his license maybe drive you, and you’d ask him to text you back when he gets back home. The little things that make up being highschool sweethearts, or whatever the hell he experienced with his ex-girlfriend before they broke up.
Fine, you’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous. But who doesn’t? You’ve always liked Seunghan—everyone knows that—and you’re aware that the missed opportunities you could’ve had with him over the last four years are a result of your own cowardice and lack of assertion, but what gives? After four years, you can finally have him? Just like that?
They say that a man who yearns is a man who earns, but now that he’s right next to you, on a literal date with you—why can’t you take it?
Because you cling too much to the past. Do you still like him as much as you did before?
You’ve always believed that liking someone for so long is a stupid thing, especially someone who wasn’t even available in the first place. Why cling to someone who can’t look at you the way you want them to? And yet you held out for hope anyway, clinging to the possibility that maybe someday Seunghan can look at you like how he did his ex all those years. That perhaps you had a chance with the boy who was one day partnered up with you and your friends for that one project in AP World History, and unknowingly becoming the object of your affections for the next three years and still into college.
“Just focus on my awesome skills,” Seunghan exclaims, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as he steps closer to the machine. “I’m gonna get you that Pikachu.”
You roll your eyes. “Of course you choose the machine with the pokemons.”
“This is who I am,” he simply responds after inserting the token, moving around the joystick to situate the claw exactly to where he wanted it to go. “And what I am is a Pokemon fan.”
“You do know that these things are a scam, right?” you ask, stepping right next to him.
Seunghan curses when the plushie falls out of the claw’s grasp. “It works out, sometimes. You just gotta have hope, you know?”
You spare him a thoughtful look. Funny how he says that.
He goes for three more rounds to no avail, the Pikachu plushie never budging from its place next to the Charmander. Seunghan feels as if they’re mocking him from within the glass, and he feels embarrassed, but he promised (in his head, at least) to get you that Pikachu no matter what. And he won’t go home until he does.
What he doesn’t expect is for you to push him out of the way. “Move, you’re just wasting money,” you say, inserting a token into the slot as he tries to regain his senses. “I will get you that Pikachu.”
Seunghan stammers, moving closer to you as you maneuver the claw to align with the lone Pikachu in the corner, before confidently pressing on the button. “There’s no way that’s gonna work,” he says, eyeing the descending claw. “It’s too far.”
“Just watch,” you simper.
Much to Seunghan’s surprise, the Pikachu plushie makes it all the way to the exit without a hitch. “What?” he exclaims in shock, watching as you crouch down to take the plushie from the machine, dust it off, and proceed to hand it to him with twinkling eyes.
“Ta-da!” you exclaim, pushing it towards him.
Seunghan snaps out of his reverie, handing it back to you. “Why are you giving it to me? I’m supposed to be giving it to you.”
The side-eye you give him is almost scathing. “What, like the girl can’t give the guy a gift?”
Seunghan flushes. “That’s not what I meant!”
But you’re already laughing, inserting another token into the slot while he’s just helplessly holding onto the Pikachu plushie you won’t take. "Sure, you fake-progressive."
"I am very progressive."
He observes as you focus in on the Squirtle next to an Eevee, before changing your mind and going for the upside-down Bulbasaur. Within seconds, you manage to get it again.
“What’s your secret?” he wonders, taking the plush when you hand it to him as you’re already inserting another token to get the Eevee. “Why are you so good at this? Who’s controlling you? Are you even real?”
You don’t catch the Eevee this time. You’ve also run out of tokens.
“Nevermind,” Seunghan says with a smile too wide for your liking.
You remember back in tenth grade when you were complaining to Sunoo about the upcoming project for history because you simply didn’t want to do it when you had a Chemistry test to study for. Miraculously, you ended up getting grouped with some of your friends and another kid, Hong Seunghan. You thought he was cute, sure, but nothing else after that. He was just some kid who had a huge friend group consisting of six other guys, which somehow included your childhood friend Anton, and the only times you’ve thought about him was when he and his friends walked too slowly in the hallways for your liking.
But then a day before the submission day of the project, you had forgotten to fulfill your part after getting too caught up with your other classes. Knowing Sunoo would never forgive you for tanking his grade, you ended up panicking throughout lunch trying to research and paste together a comprehensible summary of your research, hoping that if the group wasn’t getting an A then you would at least get a B. After getting your sources printed out in the library, the only thing left to do was find whoever had the physical presentation, which had been Jaehyun, but then he told you he left it to someone else’s care. Just great, really. You’ll only have a few minutes in class to assemble it, but surely you’d manage, right?
Wrong. Your frustrations finally caught up to you, and you felt like a ticking time bomb with your unpasted sources and incomplete project. Sunoo was gonna hate you for not even being able to finish something so simple, and you’d be letting down your whole group. Nothing was going right, and you were gonna fail.
But just as you were about to burst into tears from the stress and resorting to fess up to Sunoo, Seunghan came jogging to you five minutes before lunch ended with the physical presentation in hand. He started apologizing for hogging it, but quickly paused once he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks at the relief of seeing that all was not lost. As you frantically wiped away your tears, he had awkwardly taken the printed sources from your hands and began pasting them into the decorated cardboard, aligning them with wherever they needed to be all the while attempting to comfort you.
Thinking back on it now, it was a very embarrassing situation. None of that would have happened if you had simply stopped procrastinating and actually did your work, but you hated the prompt your group was given, which lowered your motivation as well. Stupid, but you were just a stupid fifteen-year-old, too.
Yet you would never forget that very understanding group mate of yours. Seunghan didn’t have to comfort you while he did all the work of gluing and cropping the pages for you, but he did it anyway because he noticed your shaking hands. He could have told you off, said a sarcastic remark about your mishap, but he never did. He did the work and walked with you to class, even offering to buy you a drink from the vending machine to calm you down all with a smile on his face. It doesn’t take a genius to know that what he did was very kind and very attractive, so naturally you ended up forming a crush on him.
What you didn’t know was that it would take almost four years for you to make a proper move, albeit indirectly. But it’s the little things that matter.
“I guess this is it,” Seunghan says after pocketing his keys, walking with you towards your dorm building’s entrance. “I had fun today, Y/N. But I guess I should thank Anton for this, huh? I mean, he was the one who made it possible,” he clasps his hands into a prayer and looks up at the night sky, “whoever made Anton drunk that night, thank you.”
If only Seunghan didn’t smile at you that day, then you wouldn’t be this hopeless in front of him.
You snort. “We’re not even of age to drink.”
“You really think there wouldn’t be any alcohol at Gigi’s party?”
“Fair point,” you shrug, the both of you pausing by the entrance. You turn to him, a gentle smile on your face. “Thanks for the drive, Seunghan. Please take care of Pikachu and Bulbasaur, but since you’re a major Pokemon nerd I’m sure that isn’t an issue for you.”
Seunghan chuckles, rubbing his nape. “You know me so well.”
“I wish I knew more,” you joked. “All those years in high school and we’ve only had full conversations three times.”
He falters. “Ah, yeah… What a waste, huh?”
“Goodnight, Seunghan,” you say, quickly turning around to erase the image of him looking so awkwardly in front of you. Why’d you have to mention that on the first date? God, you must be some grade-A idiot or something because—
“Y/N, wait.”
You pause, trying to ignore the way Seunghan tried to grab your wrist K-Drama style only to end up missing it completely. He fumbles at first at his mistake, attempting to hide the heat quickly rising on his cheeks. “Even if Anton didn’t set us up,” he starts, slowly, trying to find your gaze, “I’d have still wanted to go on this date with you. You’re really fun to talk to, and to hang out with… and you’re also really good at claw machines.”
You smack his arm, and he cracks up a smile again. “Idiot, that’s all you have to say?”
“It’s true, though! Those things are a scam!” he reasons, before clearing his throat. “But seriously, do you wanna go on another date next time? I really had fun with you. I promise I won’t try catching pokemons at the randomest times ever again, and I’ll try to get you that Eevee plushie next time. And you said that I’m a good driver, so maybe we can catch a drive-in movie or something… what do you think?”
Hopefully you don’t notice how fast Seunghan’s heart is beating right now, but that’s probably only because yours is beating just as fast.
You shove him away gently, and he sends you a smile as he waits for your response. “Well?” he goads, but he immediately fails to hide the surprise in his face when you hold up your phone screen in front of him.
“We can drive around and catch some pokemons next time,” you say, before turning around and walking away. “Bye!”
And Seunghan watches just until you’ve entered the building, before tripping on the way to his car.
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SUMMARY. pining after hong seunghan has always felt like an unachievable reality; however, just a few months into your first year of college, it seems that the gods have finally listened to your prayers when news breaks out that your long-time crush is single once again.
AUTHOR'S NOTES. idiots to lovers core
TAGLIST. @shoberi @miyawwn @starwonb1n @hwadejectedyoung @revehosh @alwayswook @rksbae @emohoon @nujeskz @ilovejungwonandhaechan @meowbini @nakam00t @siuewnb @cake1box @dearmarklee @kyusqult @snowyseungs @ffixtionista a @odxrilove e @hisrkive @saeist @lilysflower1 @seunghancore @eternallyhyucks @syzavxy @calumsfringe @yipyipmorals @user7520 @tojis-luver
#riize#riize anton#riize wonbin#riize smau#riize imagines#riize social media au#riize x reader#riize seunghan#seunghan x reader#seunghan#hong seunghan#riize fluff#smau#seunghan riize#seunghan imagines
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Smoke Eater - Part 1
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.
Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!! 🥳❤️🔥 You guys really warmed my heart with all the excitement for this story. I'm very happy to bring you the first chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 😘
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 4,000 Warnings: Tense situations, brief mention of claustrophobia, and a good old-fashioned meet cute.
Part 1: "Class and Style"
Come on, come on, come on!
The toe of your heeled foot tapped on the floor as you, once again, waited for the elevator to make its slow climb back up to the 22nd floor.
In your hand was a tray carrying two steaming lattes: one small, plain hazelnut, and the other a venti caramel frappe with all the sugary bells and whistles. Complete with extra whipped cream, because your boss was a goddamn child.
I shouldn’t even be getting his coffee, you thought sourly. This is his assistant’s job!
And if this elevator didn’t climb any faster, having to stop at Starbucks during your meager lunch break for your boss’s morning fix would make you late for a very important sales meeting.
“Let’s go, Betsy. Come on,” you muttered. “You can do it.”
Yes, you’d named the contraption that usually managed to carry you all the way to your correct floor. When she wasn’t broken down for maintenance.
The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.
But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.
You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.
Shit!
You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…
The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.
“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.
Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.
But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…
“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…
So you did the only thing you could think of.
You shouted for help.
You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.
You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.
Maybe no one could hear you.
“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.
You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.
But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.
“Fire Department.”
“Oh, God. Yes!”
With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.
“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.
“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”
You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.
“How soon is soon?” you asked.
“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”
Jesus Christ.
You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.
Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.
Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?
Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.
“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”
You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.
“Hello?!”
“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”
“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”
“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”
“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”
You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.
Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.
He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.
“There you are,” he greeted.
You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.
“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”
“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”
You gave it to him as you took the harness.
“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”
You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”
It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.
“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.
“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”
You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.
“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”
“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.
“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.
Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air.
“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”
“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).
“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.
His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.
“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”
He leaned in further so you could reach him.
…And damn it, you believed him.
Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.
“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.
You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.
You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.
“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.
“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.
Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!
You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.
“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”
Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”
He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.
“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.
“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.
But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.
You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.
Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…
You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.
A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.
“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”
Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.
“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.
You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”
“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”
Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.
You were livid.
But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.
“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.
“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”
You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.
Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.
“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.
“You got it, sweetheart.”
Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse.
You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.
He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.
Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.
Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.
He could admit, you had both class and style.
“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.
Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.
“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”
You shot him an amused look.
“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”
George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.
“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”
Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.
Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.
“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”
George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.
“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”
George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.
“Just something caught in my throat.”
“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.
You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.
“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.
“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”
A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.
“A bar fight would make me more productive?”
George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”
You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.
For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.
“You should get that, huh?” he said.
You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.
“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.
“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.
Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.
As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman.
“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.
“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”
You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.
“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”
And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.
Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.
Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.
You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.
It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…
“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”
You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.
“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”
“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”
You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”
Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)
“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.
“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”
“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.
“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”
You became more contemplative then.
Bake something, huh?
Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…
And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.
You smiled.
“Okay. I think we have a plan.�� However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”
“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”
“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.
“His name was Dean.”
AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?
Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.
And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.
Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂
...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)
Anywho...
Next Time:
“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”
“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.
He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”
“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”
Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.
Keep Reading: PART 2
Dean Winchester Masterlist
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Due to Tumblr's dumb 50-only tag rule, I'm tagging the rest of you in a reblog. 😘
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#Class and Style#Smoke Eater#Part 1#dean winchester#Firefighter!Dean Winchester#dean winchester x reader#Dean Winchester x female reader#firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester AU#firefighter AU#spn#supernatural#zepskies writes
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Happy sexual Sunday. In honor of Rhys announcing his upcoming substack by pointing at hand-written bulletpoints on a chalkboard with a screwdriver, I want to share the OnlyFans Stede idea that has been in my plot bunny pen for ages, but prolly isn't going to go anywhere. Stede's OF account was set up for him by Lucius, and is completely neutral content of him demonstrating basic auto maintenance and, like, how to tie a fishing lure, and a bunch of other Dad things, and he's completely oblivious to how unintentionally suggestive he's being. Like, he's filming himself working in the garden when it's super hot out, makes a "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" dad joke, strips off his shirt and uses it to mop his brow. He's on his hands and knees, pulling up weeds, and when he manages to pull up a particularly stubborn one, roots and all, kind-of-whispery/grunting-to-himself, "Aww, yeah. That's what you want, baby." Then he sits back and takes a deep drink from his water bottle, and accidentally holds it near his crotch while encouraging his watchers to stay hydrated. Ed is one of his subscribers and finds the whole thing just brain-meltingly hot. Eventually, they accidentally meet IRL, and Ed is trying to be SO COOL and not let it be known that he knows this guy and where from. And then they keep running into one another (by total coincidence - Ed hasn't become a convert to going to the farmer's market instead of just picking shit up from the grocery store on the off (likely) chance of running into Stede while he's there. Not at ALL.), and start becoming friendly. It's during one of these meetings Ed accidentally slips that he's a subscriber. He's mortified. For a moment he thinks Stede is going to get all weirded out. But Stede is just like "Oh! You like the feed? Why didn't you say so?! Always glad to meet my Only Fan!" (Stede has a v. healthy subscribership, but he thinks making the Only Fan joke is Hilarious) Stede asks for his username, and when he tells him, Stede is all "Oh! I know YOU! I can't tell you how much your feedback means to me. Always leaves me feeling all glowy for days!" Ed is all blushy and stammery and, "Uh... yeah, man. Me too." He offers Ed a hug, and Ed is internally combusting. Stede is all "If you've got any ideas for the feed, I'm always open to suggestions. Is there anything you'd like to see me doing?" There are MANY things Ed would like to see him doing. None of which are appropriate to give voice to in a crowded open-air market. Eventually eventually, after many instances where Ed is going crazy trying to figure out if it's a date or just a hang, there would be a v. thorough railing wherein Stede whispers all the tender, affirmational things Ed could ever have wished to hear. So! here's the only bit of it I've actually bothered to write:
The man on the screen smeared a little grease around the tight little hole, then inserted the cylinder into the gap in one smooth, gratifying motion. "There we are," he said, his voice a low, self-satisfied hum, "A nice, tight fit. And doesn't it feel good to do it yourself?"
Ed's breathing picked up pace a little.
"And that's how you replace a spark plug. Nothing shocking about it." He smiled a charming, little shit-eating grin and winked at the camera.
Ed's breath caught in his throat.
"So that's it for this one! Thanks, as always to my subscribers, and a special tip of the hat to this week's new friends," he looked away from the camera and put on a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses. Ed swooned a little as he read out the names from an actual printed page.
At the end of it, he took off the glasses and looked directly into the camera again, his eyes soft and his smile genuine and kind. "Thank you for sharing this time with me. Lots of love!"
There was nothing explicitly sexual about the CapriSun_Erotica OnlyFans page. In fact, the most shocking thing about it was how roundly wholesome the content was. Just a man and his phone camera and a world of practical advice and dad jokes. An intensely hot man in the tiniest shorts or tightest jeans Ed had ever seen, who seemed allergic to doing up the top three buttons on his shirts, and that radiated so much DILF energy Ed was a little astonished the videos didn't just melt his phone screen. It was the most intensely arousing thing Ed had ever seen.
He eased himself out of his boxers and hit the replay button.
When he had cleaned himself up, he tapped out a quick reply. "Hey DaddyStede, great vid as usual. Really got my motor running. 😘"
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HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [1].
SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).
PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, a house fire, mentions of sex, like the chapter title says there is too much underwear in this, an awful amount of embarrassing men WORD COUNT. 2.2k.
TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi
NOTE. i have nothing to say except i hope you enjoy this shitshow as much as i enjoyed writing it. please check the link in the masterlist if you're curious about the layout of the house. feedback much appreciated i love u.
MASTERLIST | NEXT >
CHAPTER 1 — this is too much underwear for a first meeting.
YOU WISH YOU CAN TAKE BACK ALL YOUR COMPLAINTS ABOUT DORM LIFE. Sure, the disgusting, communal bathrooms scrape a year off of your lifespan every time you have to take a piss, and the abhorrently thin walls make you want to rip your ears out every time your neighbors have mind blowing sex, but hey— all of that is better than not having a roof above your head. Even if that roof is two years behind maintenance.
But it’s all too late. You should’ve appreciated having a bed to sleep in before life pried it out from you in the form of a swirling inferno.
When the semester came to a close, your dormmates thought it would be a fantastic idea to throw an end-of-year party. The problem is, that party ended up in flames. Literally. The last person you saw entering the kitchen was Choi Yeonjun until something exploded and before you know it, there’s a stampede, and you’re choking on black fumes, and there’s suddenly a lightshow happening right before your very eyes with the dorm building you’ve been living in for the past year serving as the sparkler.
Holy shit, your dorm is burning down.
It’s a good thing that the fire was stopped before it could reach your room. You don’t know what you’d do if all your notes and textbooks burnt down along with half of the building into debris. Even prior to the fire, a lot of the facilities were janky and needed to be renovated, so you had to pack your bags and find somewhere else to stay for the next two months while the place went through repairs.
“Great,” you huff, filling your two carriers with the bare minimum you have collected in your unit. “This is just fucking great.”
However, just when you’re falling into the brink of homelessness, a friend from your book club graciously offers you a room in his house as a saving grace from your misfortune.
“It’s a small bedroom compared to the rest, but you only have to share a bathroom with one other person! There’s also a laundry room and a living area on the same floor. It’s a big place, so it doesn’t feel stuffy at all even with six, seven people.”
You have no reason to decline Jake’s offer, especially when it’ll be just a temporary arrangement anyway. “Are you sure? You said you have housemates, right? Are they fine with living with another person on such short notice?”
“Yeah, they said it’s cool,” he assures, helping you load your luggage into the taxi. “I’ve been wanting to fill up the last bedroom anyway. The house is just too big even with our current living setup. The more the merrier.”
You’ve always known that Jake Shim was fucking rich. Not because he bragged or flaunted his wealth or anything— but because he’d drop the most privileged, tone-deaf shit at the most inappropriate times and no one can get pissed because he looks oh so innocent while saying them. You had once complained about stuffing yourself with too much meat during a club dinner and that one more bite will have you nauseous. He replied with, “oh yeah, I once ate wagyu steak for a good week in Japan and I got sick of it, too!” and you physically felt your economic status erode at that very moment.
He and you will never be the same. And that fact is made suffocatingly evident right now, as the vehicle slowly pulls into a fancy neighborhood and stops right before the fence of an unreasonably gigantic yard with an unreasonably gigantic house. You do feel a little poor when he shows off the pool and the two garages, but at the same time, beggars can’t be choosers.
Also, it’s a really nice fucking house.
It’s three stories tall, with a covered deck and a substantial amount of outdoor lounging areas. Floor to ceiling windows give you a glimpse of the modern interior of the foyer and spacious living room. You’re a little afraid of getting used to such luxury that you might never want to come back to your old, dingy dorm room— but with every blessing comes a curse.
Jake did mention that you will be living with six other people including him. What he did not mention is that those ‘other people’ would all be men.
Imagine your shock when you’re greeted by a whole ass man in nothing but neon green boxers and shades the moment you slip through the sliding doors of testosterone hell.
Very. You’re very shocked.
“Hey, man,” Jake greets the almost naked individual who is also holding a bowl of cereal in the middle of the afternoon, presumably having just walked out of the kitchen. “What’s with the glasses?” That’s not the biggest issue here. You can see the outline of his fucking penis.
“Oh,” he reacts. “It was just so bright when I got out of the room.”
Jake nods. “That makes sense.” No it does not.
“I think it just got even brighter.”
You can’t tell, but you assume he’s squinting at you underneath his shades. You believe you might also need a pair because there’s definitely a contender in being the brightest thing in the room, so you try your best to not be distracted by the neon of his undies as Jake introduces you to him. “And this is Park Jongseong— or Jay, as he prefers to be called.”
“Call me whatever you like,” Jay smiles at you and reaches out his non-cereal hand for a handshake. He seems chill enough. Maybe he’s just a very laid back person who doesn’t care about general appearances. You can work with that.
“Nice to meet you.” You shake on it. “Aren’t you cold, by the way?”
When he retrieves his hand, he combs his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands. “My friends often say that I am pretty cool.”
“No, I mean cold,” you clarify. “That does look like a statement, but I’m worried you might get sick.”
You’re starting to get an inkling that you have misjudged Jay. It takes him a few seconds to understand what you were referring to, until a breeze passes by from the open entrance and suddenly, he looks down. “Oh,” he flatly says. “Of fuck.” And the innocent bowls cereal crashes and spills into the ground as Jay disappears into the hallway to your right.
You and Jake stare at the milk minutely seeping into the wooden floor. “I was gonna ask him to help you with your luggage but—” Where Jay disappears, a new person emerges (fully clothed this time, thankfully). “Oh! Hyung, come help.”
He has his neck turned back as he walks up to the both of you. You can hear the sound of footsteps scrambling from where the newcomer is looking at. “What happened to Jay?”
“I don’t know, but let me introduce you to our new housemate!”
“Hi there.” You give him a smile.
Jake tells you his name is Choi Beomgyu, and Choi Beomgyu doesn’t exactly look like he’s keen on accepting your handshake. Instead, all he does is stare you down with his arms crossed, eyes scaling your entire height like he’s doing a motherfucking evaluation. You’re trying your damn best to maintain a pleasant expression. You almost break when he quits his rude staring and turns over to Jake. “So, you need me to help carry her things?” The bastard isn’t even talking directly to you. Your pride can’t take this hit.
“No, it’s alright. I can take care of these myself. Thanks!” Jake flinches when you snatch your second carrier from his hands. “Third floor, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Got it.”
Yes, you might have shoved past Beomgyu on purpose, but that’s not the point. You leave the two behind to take care of Jay’s fallen cereal as you struggle to lug your luggage up the staircase. You manage to bring them all the way to the second floor landing before your arms give in and you let the two cases settle on the floor with a huff. When you pause to take a breather, you catch a familiar face walking down the stairs from above. You recognize him from Jake’s instagram stories. You’re sure his name is Lee Heeseung. “Oh! Let me help!” he quickly exclaims after noticing the situation, hurrying down the steps. “You’re the new addition to our residence, right?”
“Yes, I am, and it’s totally fine! You don’t have to—”
Big mistake. You should’ve just let him help, but you’re a little prideful so you reach out for the carrier he took, and when your fingers brush against the back of his hand, the man suddenly drops the fucking case and retracts his entire arm. You stare, wide-eyed, as Heeseung stumbles back to the ground next to your carrier that happened to crack open in the fray and is now spilling out all your clothes like guts and blood. Behind Heeseung, the door creaks open. “Is everything oka— oh my god, is that a b-bra—”
Well. It is, in fact, a bra, and its color seems to match the flushed face of the poor, unsuspecting individual that just opened the door out of concern for his friend. You make eye contact with him once before he retreats into his room with a loud slam! Heeseung is still on the floor and he’s now profusely apologetic.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, please let me help—” The issue dawns on him belatedly, right when it’s already too late and he has your undergarment in his hands in the midst of trying to undo his mistake. “I don’t think I should help.”
“Good call.” You kneel down, politely prying your blood red bra from Heeseung as you proceed to gather the rest of your clothes back into the carrier.
“I should cut my hands off.”
Oh no. “Hey, it was an accident. It’s fine—” When you try to reach a hand out to give him a completely innocent, completely harmless pat on the shoulder for assurance, he flinches back again. Now your arm is awkwardly hanging mid-air and you’re both looking at each other with shared looks of alarm. The exchange (or lack thereof) reminds you of a forgotten memory— a memory from your childhood. Snacktime all throughout elementary school, to be specific, when all the boys would fucking run away from you and your girl friends for having cooties.
This moment is oddly reminiscent of that and you don’t want to acknowledge it.
“What happened? I heard a crash, is everything alright?”
By the time Jake arrives, you have already managed to clear up the crime scene. With a grunt, you get back up and prepare yourself for another round of heavy lugging. “Can you tell me where my room is? I think you should stay here and make sure your friend is okay.”
“It’s...the first door through the hallway, next to Sunghoon’s. Hyung, are you good?”
You have no idea who the fuck Sunghoon is, but you nod in acknowledgement anyway. “Who’s the person living in that room?”
“Soobin hyung,” Jake answers, helping a dazed Heeseung back to his feet. “Why?”
“You should go check on him, too.”
With that, you leave another mess in your wake as you climb up the flight of stairs to the third floor. You can’t wait to rest. You really want to lie down. But when you walk past the hallway, entering into the floor’s unreasonably cozy living area, you’re met with a fucking fork in the road.
There’s one door right across the hallway, but when you open it, it’s not a bedroom, but a laundry room. So you make a sharp right to the archway opening up to three doors on each of the walls. Jake should have been more specific with what he meant by the first door. You don’t want to take a risk and walk into something you’d fucking regret.
Fortunately, someone emerges from the door on your right and reveals what looks to be a bathroom. You assume he’s Sunghoon, and Sunghoon nearly doubles over when he turns around and meets eyes with you. His expression stiffens, and you’re both just standing there for a good moment and looking at each other without saying anything.
You press your lips into a smile. Holy shit, he’s intimidating. Why the fuck isn’t he saying anyting?
“Hi. I’m—”
“S—shit—”
Suddenly, he’s gone. He’s disappeared into the room in the center after struggling to open the door for a bit. You’re left dumbfounded, but at least now you know where your room is.
You slot the key Jake gave you and twist open the doorknob. The empty room greets you with a body slam of fatigue, and before you know it, you’re sinking face down into the bed and you have no energy left in your fingertips. Admittedly, you have questioned yourself multiple times upon first entering the house whether you made the right decision, whether it’d be better to find an apartment, or maybe you should just crash at your parent’s place for the time being.
But this bed is more comfy than any hotel suite you’ve ever been to, and your bank account isn’t suffering from an enormous dent. Six disastrous men is nothing when you’re able to call a place your home. You can already envision where you’ll be placing your new bookshelf. They’d have to pry your new house key from your cold, dead hands if they want you out of here.
HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.
#tomorrow x together x reader#enhypen x reader#txt x reader#enha x reader#choi soobin x reader#choi beomgyu x reader#lee heeseung x reader#park jongseong x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#park sunghoon x reader#tomorrow x together scenarios#enhypen scenarios#txt scenarios#enha scenarios#home for the bitchless
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