#how many buttons does he even have done like two

[literaila]

one in the morning

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

warnings: slight angst, awkward child rearing, a bit of arguing, and pining (of course), slightly ooc gojo

a/n: because i am a sucker for little megumi

*

year zero. year one.

it's not that you're not expecting the call. except that you're not. 

like not even a little bit. an asteroid coming down and destroying only you and your apartment building is slightly more likely than satoru gojo calling you in the middle of the night, like he hasn't done in the last six months. 

the last year, really.

a year ago you would've known who it was immediately and probably would've cursed satoru out for calling you at three in the morning to see if you wanted to go get ice cream with him (and then you would've gotten up and put on your shoes to find him outside of your room, already grinning). 

but now you have to check the caller id. 

you blink around in the dark--struggling through the dregs of dream you're still waking through--and sigh. 

unfortunately, you've never had quite enough willpower to ignore this phone call. shoko has called you an idiot many times--too many times, actually--telling you that satoru's attention-seeking habits are not your responsibility. not that she's had to say that in a while, though... and it's not like you're going to sneak out in the middle of the night with him anymore--you can't sneak out. you have your own house. there’s no yaga to look down on you disapprovingly here. 

and he hasn't called you in six months. you haven't even heard about him beyond some irritated remarks from yaga, and shoko's knowing glances when you try to nonchalantly bring him up.

and still. 

it takes you a moment to pick up the phone, your thumb hitting the answer button before your mind can stop you. 

"satoru?" you whisper, listening to the breathing on the other end. 

there's some muffled moving around, and then a breath, and then someone in the background speaking, and then-- 

"i need your help." his voice is quiet like he doesn't want anyone to hear what he's saying. 

what time is it? have you ever heard satoru say those words before? 

your first thought is that he's on another mission. that there's a cursed spirit and he needs some assistance. but when has satoru gojo asked anyone for help with a cursed spirit? when has he ever needed it? suguru was typically there to keep him from-- 

you pause, sitting up in bed. this might be a nightmare, but usually, you're more accustomed to them. "where are you?" you ask him, speaking in the same soft voice. 

you expect him to name off some city, some house, some country that you couldn't possibly get to. you expect him to crack a joke, say something to you about being lost without him, or laugh at how serious your voice sounds. but he only murmurs, "at your door." 

like it isn't a completely crazy thing to say. how does he even know where you live? 

"it's one in the morning," you say, frowning. some small part of you wants him to actually be there, expecting a knock to come from the void of your hallway. and the other, much bigger part, thank you, wants him to be joking. 

"i know," he sighs, and the receiver is muffled again, and then, "can you open it?" 

"what's going on?" 

"please," he repeats. there's no joke to this. this is not satoru asking you if you want to go get donuts at six in the morning, or milkshakes at midnight. "i'll explain. i just need your help." 

you bite back some remark about how he hasn't needed your help for the past year. about how he hasn't called, hasn't texted, and hasn't even asked about you since-- 

but you stand up, trying to untangle a knot in your hair. you hang up on him without answering. your heart gets a bit of satisfaction from that. 

and go to your door, giving yourself two seconds to prepare for the real-life satoru in front of your face. blue-everything eyes, you think, wall white hair, and a stupid smile. 

but when you open it, your eyes drift to his (sort of) like they're already sure of where exactly he might be, it isn't just him. 

there's a little boy--as tall as satoru's waist, with dark hair and furrowed brows to match--standing in front of another little girl--the same dark hair, but blank face--glaring up at satoru like he's kidnapped both of them. 

your eyes widen as you realize that he probably has. 

"this is basically every kid's dream," he's telling this boy, his playful voice like they’ve known each other for years. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?" 

"why aren't you?" this boy retorts, and his voice is hard. unreasonably sarcastic for such a small person. it might make you giggle, the obvious tension between the two of them, if you weren't so worried about these kids' poor parents, freaking out at their disappearance. 

the little girl is the first to notice you there, and she waves, her face much softer, much more exhausted than the boys in front of her. but she doesn't look frightened; not concerned with wherever this strange man has taken the two of them. 

and satoru looks up at the motion, his mouth turning as he looks at you. 

the little boy frowns, but his eyes settle. there's a brief moment where he watches you and you think that he's about to start begging for your help, but then it's gone. and his eyes trail back to satoru, still angry. 

you blink, swallowing at the three of them. this is not ice cream.

"satoru," you get out, eventually. "where did you get these kids?" 

*

"okay," you set a glass of water on the coffee table, trying to put on a normal smile. your hands are shaking, so you tuck them under your sleeves. "i'm sorry i don't have a lot of extra blankets, but if you get cold i'll go look through some boxes and see what i can find." 

it's been ten minutes with them inside your apartment, and you already feel like you're doing something wrong. satoru, obviously, just briefly introduced the two of them to you, before you grabbed his arm and dragged him--along with the kids that trailed behind--into your apartment. 

you'd hissed at him about how it was cold, and one in the morning, and they needed to be asleep. he only smiled and asked how you were. 

so now they're cuddled up on your couch, with your only spare blanket, both of them with dreary eyes. you're trying not to look too closely--to check if they've been crying, or if they're harmed in any sort of way.

the little boy--megumi--nods and tsumiki smiles at you. 

how four little eyes can look so appreciative, you're not sure.

satoru is leaning against the wall behind you, watching you move around these children like it's normal, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him.

"is there anything else you need?" you ask them, trying to be softer than you are. you should’ve taken that babysitting job when you were twelve; you’re completely out of your depth here.

megumi shakes his head. 

"no, we're good," tsumiki says. 

and you seriously want to get them to a hospital. where did they come from? why does satoru have them? is he insane? are they insane? have you just dreamt this all up?

"okay, satoru and i are just going to go talk in the kitchen for a bit. come get me if you need anything." and you smile again, taking a couple of hesitant steps as they both look away from you to the show that tsumiki put on when you handed her the remote. 

at least they're not outside anymore.

you drag satoru into the kitchen, thinking about knocking the wind right out of him. he's always been particularly punchable, but right now he's even more so. 

and he's smiling adoringly at you. 

“satoru," you grind out, trying to keep your voice down. he leans against your countertop, crossing his legs. 

and he hums inquisitively. “you know, i don’t think megumi likes me very much.” 

“satoru.” 

“not sure…" he scratches his head, white hair falling over his sunglasses. "i mean he’s kind of a weird kid but still. i took them to the store to pick out anything they wanted and neither of them got anything. even when i showed them the different cakes they had in the bakery. there were matcha rolls today, too. do you think they’re robots or something?” 

“satoru. where did you get those children?” your voice is a step away from furious. 

why is he here right now? why does he just barge into your life at unprecedented moments, acting like nothing has changed between the two of you? 

acting like you haven't missed the sound of his voice or the way he speaks with his hands, or how he's standing right next to you, warmth radiating off of him like a toxin. 

“is that important right now?” he asks. “we’re talking about their spending habits.” 

“i’m talking about you. tell me that you didn’t steal them from the park and that i’m not obligated to report you.” 

“are you serious?" he shakes his head at you, his voice still teasing, calm as ever. "you think i’d just take some random kids home with me?” 

“i don’t know!" you tell him, finally breaking--your voice is raised, and you almost don't notice. "i don’t even know how you got here, or where you’ve been in the past six months, or whose children those are because they are certainly not yours.” 

he pouts. “you don’t think they look like me?” 

“you’re too pale.” 

“that’s rude, you—“ 

“whose kids are they? now, satoru.” 

you hope your face looks intimidating, but honestly, your demand is more like a suggestion when it comes to satoru. he can listen or he can leave. 

you don't know which one you want more. 

there’s a beat of silence where he rubs his foot on the ground, messing up your tiled floors probably. and then he sighs, relenting. “…toji zenin’s.”

he could’ve said anything else and you wouldn’t even care. oh, he found those kids abandoned in a warehouse on a mission? cool. oh, he found some long-lost cousins? great. if it were anything else, you would've waved him off and told him that he needed to get them new clothes, or something. 

but this? 

“what?!” 

“shh. you’re the one who said they need to sleep," he tries to look around the corner of your hallway, even though you both know he doesn't need to.

you’re gawking at him, but, really, can it be helped?

“toji zenin?!”

“well technically fushiguro according to the records i dug up. but zenin nonetheless...” 

“you stole his kids?!” 

“i didn’t steal—“ 

“he tries to kill you so you kill him instead and take his children hostage?!” 

this would be a wonderful moment to wake up.

satoru waves this statement off, frowning. “you’re really brushing over the ‘tried to kill me’ part. what? you don’t care about me?” 

“why do you have them, satoru? what are you planning to do? torture them for information?" your eyes are wide and your heart is panicked. "they’re kids—“ 

he scowls. “of course not.” 

“then what? tell me everything, starting from when toji tried to kill you.” 

“why do you automatically think i did something?" he complains. "it’s not like i asked zenin to kill me first. i didn’t bait him into slicing my throat open.”

“because you always start the problems.” 

“not true. sometimes i solve them, and sometimes i—“ 

“how did you find out about them?” 

he sighs. “he told me about megumi, before he, ya know,” and then he makes a motion across his neck. and a terrible noise that supposedly indicates death. 

you don't even mock him for it “why?” you ask. 

“megumi might inherit the zenin technique. he’s worth a lot to the zenin clan, and i guess that toji made a deal with them.” 

“you guess?” 

“well, it’s not like i had a whole lot of time between the resurrection and murdering thing to ask him. i didn’t invite the guy out for tea so he could tell me about his pride and joy," his voice is riddled with sarcasm, so you can't decide if he's joking or not. 

he is the most infuriating person you've ever met. 

“so what? he asked you to keep megumi away from them?”

“no, he didn’t seem the sentimental type. maybe he told me cause he didn’t want megumi to grow up there, or maybe he told me so i could claim the prize money for myself.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t matter.” 

you glare at him. “oh, it doesn’t?”

“no. i asked megumi what he wanted and this was it. he doesn’t want to live there and leave tsumiki behind, or have her live in that misogynistic shithole.” 

“how old is he?” 

satoru almost winces. "uh, six?”

“you don’t even know how old he is?” you close your eyes, shaking your head. 

“he’s in first grade! we haven’t gone through all of the basics yet.” 

“and tsumiki?” 

“…nine.” 

“satoru.” 

“i’ll figure it out. megumi acts like he’s fifty years old anyway, so what do i care?” 

you can practically see him rolling his eyes. 

“what do you care?" you repeat, mocking. "you just told me that megumi made this decision for himself. he's a kid. he probably doesn’t understand—“ 

“he understands that if he goes to the zenin clan his sister will suffer in whatever way they deem fit. i mean, you know what it’s like for girls there—especially without any cursed energy.” 

“you cant just make this decision for them on a whim, satoru. have you thought any of it through? where are they going to stay? who’s going to watch them when you’re sent away? where are they going to go to school? what if megumi does inherit his cursed technique?” 

“all of that doesn’t matter. i'll figure it out," he waves off the topic of their lives like it's a mere suggestion, "what matters is that i keep those kids from being subjected to a life of servitude and competition. that they get to be kids while they can.” 

you swallow. is there a way not to be frightened by this? “i know—i know where you’re coming from," you give him a weak smile, trying not to yell, or fight, or question this so much that satoru shuts down. "it’s nice of you to be… worried about them. but this isn’t like taking in a lost kitten, satoru. these are children.” 

“do you really feel the need to point that out?” 

“yes. what do you know about kids?” 

he smiles, wide. “nothing!” he exclaims. “that’s why i came here. and you’re already doing a great job.” 

you frown. “what do i know about kids?” 

“well, you like them, don’t you?” 

“what?” 

“when we went to that daycare center during second year you played with all of the kids. you like them," he nods as if affirming it himself. 

you went to a daycare with satoru once to take care of a grade three curse and apparently, it's led him to insanity. 

“you’re comparing my hide-and-seek skills to taking care of those two kids on my own?"

“i mean, i’ll be here too...” 

“taking care of three children on my own?” you correct. 

satoru pouts. 

you think about what suguru told you after riko amanai died; about satoru and the shift within him. some sort of manic strength he hasn't uttered a word about since. 

but you continue, swallowing. "what's this really about?" you ask, softly, trying not to be mad, or worried, or concerned about why he came here to you. "it's not like you to... take responsibility for something you're not responsible for." 

his pout turns into a frown. you can see his brows furrow. "you don't think i'm capable of helping people?" 

"i know you're capable. but why? why now? i mean, it's been a year since toji died, and you're just getting them now? you suddenly remembered what he said to you?" 

"i had to figure out the logistics of toji's deal." 

"okay," you shake your head, "but still. why not have a family take them in? find someone who can give them a relatively normal life before they're pushed into all of this?" 

satoru's face is blank. "no. what happens when megumi is eight and his new 'parents' put him in a hospital because he's seeing things that they can't?" 

for the first time since he's walked through your front door, he sounds almost serious.

"i--" 

"what happens when they're afraid of him because he draws in cursed energy? when his 'family' rejects him like yours did? like suguru's did?" 

"satoru." 

"honestly, do you think that's any better?" he gestures to your living room, to the kids he's proclaimed responsibility for. "if he does inherit his technique then the zenin clan will go looking for him anyway, and he won't be able to protect himself because there was no one to teach him how. no matter where he goes he's going to be ripped away from tsumiki, who seems to be the only thing he actually cares about. he didn't even want to know--" 

"is this about suguru?" you ask him, the words falling before you can catch them. 

satoru stills. you can see every one of his muscles tense. preparing for a fight. "what?" 

"are you trying to... make up for his decisions? do you feel guilty? is megumi supposed to replace him?" 

"replace him?" 

"i know you think that you can take care of everything on your own, satoru, but you can't. it's not your fault that toji died. and it's not your fault that suguru left--" 

"it is my fault." he says, so softly the words are almost caught before they can reach you. "it is." 

you shake your head. you should've had this conversation months ago. a year ago, before any of this could happen. 

"c'mon, y/n," he continues, no laughter, no smile, no swagger. "i saw what was happening. everyone did. but i was his best friend. i was supposed to be there for him." 

"suguru didn't want you there. he didn't want you to be a part of it." 

"well i could've stopped him. even if i couldn't save suguru--" his voice cracks on his name. "i could've saved everyone else. but i didn't." 

"that's... that's a ridiculous suggestion. how are you supposed to kill your best friend? why should you have to save everyone? why would you even--" 

"megumi isn't some replacement. he's a little boy, and if i'm not there for him then he's going to be stuck with his family. just like i was. he's going to be used for his cursed energy and who knows how he'll turn out? if he'll kill people recklessly like toji, or die trying to do the right thing?" 

you're silent. 

"i'm the only one who can protect him from this," satoru says, and you realize that he's been thinking about this for the past year. that every second since he almost died, this has been on his mind. "they're not going to touch him if i make it clear that i won't let them. i won't--i'm not going to let him become someone he doesn't want to be." 

you sigh. "satoru..." 

his body moves at your voice and he smiles again, shaking off whatever anger you drew out. it's almost a complete shift in who you're talking to. like the stakes no longer matter to him; these kids are just another obstacle to face, a power to control. 

like he's remembered the role he's supposed to play. 

"besides, someone's going to need to take over for me eventually. i might as well train him myself." 

you cant see his eyes, and that’s probably good. you wish someone else were here to take your side, explain to satoru that he’s just a kid himself. that he shouldn't have to take care of everything on his own. 

because when it’s just you, he always has the upper hand. he always gets his way. 

"okay," you say, eventually, after you realize that you'll never win this fight. that you don’t want to fight with him at all.

"okay?" he repeats. "so you'll help me?" 

"help you?" 

"yeah. why do you think i brought them over here?" 

you pause. "you want me... to what? raise them?" 

"with me, yes." 

"are you kidding?" 

"no. you're probably the only person i trust to help." 

the words do something almost indescribable to your body. the person you were a year ago would've cried out in relief, would've clung to him like glue to paper. 

but you frown instead. "seriously?" 

"you've already taken care of them better than i could. look." he drags you around the corner to where tsumiki has her head on megumi's, both of them snoring softly, folded into the blanket you gave them. 

the tv flickers in the background, bothering neither of them. how they've managed to fall asleep with all of the yelling that's been going on, you don't know. 

"see? they already feel safe around you." 

"they're exhausted," you correct, but feel yourself soften at the sight of them. they are kinda cute without the scowl or concern plaguing their faces.

"we're going to be great parents," satoru coos, slinging an arm around your shoulder. 

you push him away. "we are not their parents. we are... permanent babysitters. nannies." 

satoru fixes you with an amused look. "okay." 

"and you still owe me an explanation. i want a complete narrative about what you've been doing for the past six months. and how you found the two of them." 

"okay," he steps closer to you again like you won't notice. 

"and--" you don't have anything else. it's one in the morning. how clear is your mind supposed to be? "and you're paying for anything they need." 

"uh huh." 

eventually, you sigh. it's a surprise that you've lasted this long. "fine. i'll help you. but only because they'd probably die if they spent more than twenty-four consecutive hours with you." 

satoru doesn't say anything--not to whine or roll his eyes--and it's a small acknowledgment, a thank you he doesn't have to say out loud. he'll take this win, at least. 

the two of you watch them, relaxing into the wall. 

after a minute satoru whispers. "by the way..." 

"what?" 

"i didn't tell megumi that i killed toji." 

you turn to him. your eye might as well start twitching. 

"what? he said he didn't want to know--" 

*

you're sneaking into the kitchen when you notice him sitting at the table. his hands are crossed in front of him, his eyes focused on a stain you haven't been able to get off of the wood. 

he's very small, you realize, watching him. his hair is messier than it was the night before, sticking to his head like he slept slumped against it. 

he's not doing anything, really. just sitting there. you can see his legs swinging in the air. 

and before you can prepare for what to say to this little boy who you're probably going to be spending a lot of time with, your mouth is open. "hey," you say to him, just whispering. 

tsumiki must be sleeping. 

megumi looks up, quickly, like he wasn't expecting you to be there. his eyes are wide like he's been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. but then he slumps down again and gives you a brief nod in acknowledgment. then looks back down, because the table is very interesting.

you wonder how many mornings he's woken up alone, with no one to tuck him back in.

"can't sleep?" you ask him, standing across from him and leaning against the table. 

"this is when i usually wake up," you recall his voice the night before when satoru was teasing him, rougher than a boy's should be. but it's soft now, quiet. 

it's probably seven if the clock on your bedside table is to be believed. 

"you were up pretty late, though." 

he almost rolls his eyes, remembering the events of the night before. 

and you can tell that he doesn't really want to talk to you. he doesn't know anything about you, or what you want with him. why should he trust you? 

you clear your throat. "how old are you?" 

he looks up again. "six. why?" 

"satoru wasn't sure." 

this time, megumi actually rolls his eyes. you're familiar with this sort of annoyance directed at satoru, so you smile, just a little bit. at least there's something you can relate to. 

"and tsumiki?" 

"seven." 

you nod, stepping away. 

what do you say to a boy who has been dragged into your home by a maniac? 

you sigh, clearing your throat again. "are you hungry?" 

megumi's eyes narrow. there's a brief second between the two of you, where some sort of understanding passes through his eyes. who was the last person to make him breakfast? 

and then he nods, slowly. 

you smile. "okay. c'mon, let's see if i have anything you like." 

*

next part.

#not sure where this is supposed to go but oh well #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #a typical family

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #gos2 #good omens 2 #i forgive you #*saunters onto your feed* i'm BACK #the final fifteen #aziraphale is a fighter #and he will always win #my own meta

[lovelyhan]

— favorite poison ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

word count: 15.5k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, angst, smut

warnings: mentions of twitter porn, brief discussions of past trauma, slut shaming, mild violence (wonwoo punches someone in the face), graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! thank you so much for waiting so so patiently for this second part! big thank you to @playmetheclassics for proofreading this monster sequel for me >< i wouldn't have done this without you, indi UEUEUE

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: implied semi-public sex, game chair sex? jealousy, clothed sex, use of handcuffs, brief spanking, car sex, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, degradation, dirty talk, daddy kink, hard and soft dom wonwoo, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @tommolex

wonwoo taglist: @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme

fic taglist: @appachicken - @bekah931215

part one - part two - part three - part four

“So when are you introducing me?” 

The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.

He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So listening to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t helping his case.

“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

His best friend pouts, and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”

Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see. 

Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.

Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches on pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend) doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.

Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now? 

“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head. 

“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”

“Fuck you. You know that’s not true.”

“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him. 

“Why?” he asks with a scowl.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with, or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”

Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life. 

“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”

Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.” 

“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care, though.”

He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind. 

Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned. 

What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again, not five minutes later.

About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo had just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.

The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping. 

Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.

But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.

“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”

Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.

“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”

The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all. 

“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”

Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends, and 2.) he is not a cold person and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now. 

“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again, is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”

Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.

Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”

As Johnny exits, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence he left.

“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”

Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.

Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few head pats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now, take off your leggings before I tear a hole in them myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”

You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.

He’s fucking perfect.

Right after that unplanned quickie, Wonwoo is at least keen enough to observe his surroundings as both of you discreetly part ways and sneak back into the convention. Since the main events were taking place on the other side of the venue, not a lot of people were milling around, and he thankfully manages to blend into the crowd without rousing everyone’s suspicion. 

Well, almost everyone.

“You’re a pretty shitty actor; you know that?”

Wonwoo doesn’t have to turn around to recognize the smugness in Seungcheol’s tone. The moment he lays his eyes on one of his closest friends—still wearing that silly Pikachu onesie and giving out his cherry cookies—he knows he can’t weasel himself out of this conversation so easily. 

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo says, deciding to play along to gauge what Seungcheol does and doesn’t know.

The older man scoffs. “Come on, Wonwoo-yah. You weren’t being very discreet when you pulled our very good cat girl friend into the restroom. Doesn’t help that you both came out looking dishevelled as fuck. So much for hating each other, huh?” 

Okay. He has nothing left to hide then. Great.

“Were we that obvious?” Wonwoo lowers his voice into a whisper, and the only reason he’s genuinely asking is because Seungcheol isn’t the type to joke around about these kinds of things.

“Only to the eyes of someone who personally knows the both of you,” he snickers. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Wonwoo’s brows knit together, perplexed, but offers no more smart retorts. His heart is still pounding in his chest at the thought of having been seen with you. Fuck. He isn’t usually this careless. Then and there, he makes a mental note to not let his emotions pull the reins on his decisions next time.

“Thanks, hyung,” is all he tells Seungcheol in return. “I’m heading back. Uh, she was looking for you, by the way. Something about wanting more of your cookies.”

Seungcheol visibly perks up at the news, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with his friends and having some weird soft spot for you? 

As Wonwoo quietly slips back into his booth—greeting a bunch of his fans but not in a sociable mood—he recalls the prickle of heat in his chest when he saw how uncomfortable you were during that short conversation with Johnny. The memory makes his curiosity spike again, and he considers asking you about it the next time you invite him over.

But then he reminds himself that he does not have a soft spot for you unlike his friends. None at all. He’s just being a decent human being for having a modicum of concern because of how you reacted towards someone Wonwoo knows to be completely harmless. 

Aside  from the occasional NSFW spam on Twitter, Johnny’s pretty harmless, right?

“Hyung! Group pic, c’mon!” 

Wonwoo hears Mingyu call out to him several booths over and sighs. He probably shouldn’t put too much thought into something he won’t be able to figure out in the next five minutes anyway.

The next time Wonwoo comes over to your apartment is to try out some new heart-shaped handcuffs you bought online. You wouldn’t stop gushing about it to him over text, and he has half the mind to just cuff you to the bed and leave because of how annoying you’re being.

But for some reason, the handcuffs lay forgotten on your unmade bed as Wonwoo sits right in front of your set-up—begrudgingly listening to your instructions as he attempts to solve an overworld puzzle in that stupid game you and Soonyoung kept pestering him to play. Genshin Impact, yeah, that’s the one. 

“You have to hit the purple towers with Electro attacks, idiot,” you sigh. “Dendro is for green towers. Hydro is for blue towers. Did you happen to skip kindergarten or something?”

“I thought elemental reactions applied to these, too,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who said that Dendro and Hydro are good with Electro.” 

“Yeah, yeah, keep making excuses, color dunce.”

Normally, Wonwoo wouldn’t have taken the insult lying down, but he stubbornly chooses to solve the puzzle until he’s finally unlocked the hidden desert area you claimed to be ‘too lazy to figure out right away’. A hint of smugness crosses his features as he flashes you a triumphant grin. Wonwoo half-expects you to just roll your eyes and blame his progress on dumb luck or something, but to his surprise, you clap your hands gleefully before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s my smart little gamer, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s perfectly normal for him to hear you challenge his authority outside the bedroom. After all, you’ve made it your life’s mission to push all of Wonwoo’s buttons until he cracks and manhandles you in a way that leaves no room for your brattiness to slip out. Sometimes he likes to think that you rile him up on purpose because the so-called consequences end up rewarding you sexually tenfold instead. Which, Wonwoo thinks, is fucking sick, but from how much he lets you get away with it anyway, he figures that he’s got a few screws loose himself.

“Anyway, how about we check if you’ve got shit luck on gacha games or not,” you announce before nudging your customized gaming chair with your foot—the same one Wonwoo’s currently sitting on—so you can have better access to your mouse and keyboard. “Soonyoung’s luck is abysmal as hell. The only reason he’s got such a spiffy account is because of all those sponsors.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Are you saying yours is any better?”

“Hey, I’ve got decent luck, mind you,” you huff before clicking a few times, and a new window pulls up on-screen, which Wonwoo recognizes as the wishing page. Soonyoung has shown it to him and the other guys enough times to remember what it looks like.

“Go on, just click the times ten button,” you urge him before tugging your gaming chair back to its original position. “It’s gonna let you wish for a character ten times, basically.”

“I know how gacha games work,” Wonwoo bites back.

“Of course you do,” you coo as he finally does a full summons.

He swears he’s going to edge you until you’re begging and crying later. It’s the least you could do for being such a pain in—

His vengeful thoughts are interrupted when you gasp out loud—eyes glued to the monitor as the shooting star glows like iridescent gold. Wonwoo doesn’t know shit about Genshin, but he’s pretty sure he just pulled a really rare character.

“I just pulled a five-star yesterday.” You scowl, staring at him disbelievingly. “How on earth—”

To your dismay, Wonwoo accidentally clicks on your mouse—ending the entire animation sequence a bit too early. But just when you’re about to berate him for being impatient, your jaw practically falls to the floor when you see all ten of your (technically Wonwoo’s) wish results.

He managed to bring home the featured five-star character five times. Five fucking times. Holy shit?

As you visibly freak out in your seat, bemoaning the fact that this legendary pull happened off-stream, Wonwoo stares at you bizarrely like he always does. You immediately take a screenshot, explaining that the probability of what just happened was several times less likely than you letting him fuck you while you’re livestreaming, but Wonwoo’s mind wanders a little right after that.

So…you would let him fuck you on stream, then? 

Not that it’s something he’s thought about before. Wonwoo likes the privacy your set-up affords him with, and he’s not about to jeopardize that with by committing such an inexplicable act of exhibitionism. But the mere picture it paints in his head is enough to make him swallow thickly. 

One of your stupidly short skirts bunched up to your waist. His hands kneading your breasts as he snaps his hips from behind you. All those pretty noises you make only for him now being heard by your incel-ridden fanbase. He bets they’d even like seeing their beloved Koyahngi get railed on-cam, but the thought of anyone else seeing you in ways only Wonwoo has had the privilege to makes his blood boil.

“Hm? You’ve gone quiet. What’s up?”

His eyes flicker over to your form—knees pressed against your chest underneath the oversized tee you’re wearing. You like to dress comfortably when you’re off-stream, which is understandable because even if you’re just sitting in front of a computer screen, doing so in full cosplay can be a huge hassle. He’s always wondered how you have it in you to put in all that effort for your viewers.

Curiosity lingers in your gaze when he prolongs the silence, but Wonwoo can’t bring himself to answer—mind too preoccupied with a whirlwind of thoughts to articulate any sort of reply. 

He can excuse those horny assholes on Twitter—your main target audience for the filthier content you make on the side. They have no idea who it is they’re really jacking off to anyway. But if some lesser man deigns to even think he deserves to look at you—the real you—while you’re writhing in the throes of pleasure…

You let out an undignified yelp when Wonwoo abruptly pulls you onto his lap, awkwardly straddling him as he stares at you intensely through the lens of his glasses. He can vaguely hear you muttering something about impatient men under your breath, but Wonwoo knows your irritation with him holds little to no weight with how you fold your legs on either side of his hips so his large hands can have better access to your ass.

“This is what you invited me for, isn’t it?” he murmurs, giving your backside a squeeze that has you mewling in response. 

Wonwoo smirks. What a needy little thing.

You gulp. “Y-Yeah, but—”

“Strip.”

“Wonwoo, I’ve gotta post about the wish results!”

He stares at you, unimpressed, and lets his hands fall onto the arm rests of your gaming chair, making you whimper at the loss of his touch. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The effect of his authoritative tone manifests all too quickly. You bite your lower lip as you tug on the hem of your shirt, lifting it up just to tease a sliver of skin underneath. Wonwoo narrows his eyes, fully cognizant of what you’re trying to do, but it seems that you know better than to piss him off even further. 

Your shirt falls to the floor and Wonwoo has to keep himself from groaning at the sight before him. It’s one thing for you to forego a bra, but panties, too?

“Do you like it, daddy?” 

Knowing you, the question is meant to taunt than anything else, but Wonwoo lets it pass anyway.

It always drives him mad, how subtle you are whenever you want to get a rise out of him. The way you roll your hips into Wonwoo’s has a tantalizing feel to it and he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from snapping. He’ll play your games and drag this on for as long as he has to. Because he’s been with you long enough to know how much you love it when Wonwoo lets you have an illusion of authority for a sliver of a second, only to bully you into submission right after. 

“Fuck,” you whisper the moment the outline of his erection grazes your bare pussy. “Missed your cock so much… It’s been a while since I’ve had you inside me.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”

“How was I supposed to know these conventions were scheduled one after the other?” You pout before grinding deliciously against his cock once again. He can practically feel how wet you are through his sweats and it doesn’t help that each forward motion brings your perky breasts closer to his face.

Wonwoo lets out another sigh as he wraps an arm around your waist before leaning down to latch his lips onto one of your nipples. You quickly jolt in response—not expecting him to indulge you with pleasure so quickly—but his actions spur you on. As his tongue expertly flicks across your sensitive bud, you quickly haul his aching cock out of the confines of his sweats, grinding your slit across his thick girth. 

You’re convinced that this is enough to get you off. Though you’ve memorized how the bulging veins on Wonwoo’s cock feels like inside you, having each ridge graze across your clit prickles the back of your head with newfound pleasure. A growl reverberates in his chest as you expertly slide your pussy along his dick, and you brace your hands on his broad shoulders to anchor yourself.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Can I? Please? Want it so bad.”

The words are punctuated with a pained moan when Wonwoo’s mouth trails higher before biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He doesn’t miss the way your cunt momentarily pulses from his aggression, and he gladly guides your hips as you rub yourself all over his cock.

“My good little whore, always asking permission first,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Wonwoo lifts you off his lap for a moment, earning himself a whine in protest, but when you realize he’s going to take off his sweats, you practically salivate once his strong thighs ease back onto your gaming chair. You don’t bother catching his gaze for an implicit confirmation. You simply sink down on his cock like you’ve been craving for days. 

A choked out moan gets caught in the back of your throat when he fills you to the brim—making your brain go blank for a moment before you remember to start doing as he asked. Wonwoo watches you through an intense, hooded gaze. The only indication that he’s even feeling remotely good is the way his fingers grip the arm rests tighter whenever your walls clench around him every now and again.

Despite the pure, unadulterated bliss that surges through you every time you’re mounted on Wonwoo’s length, it pisses you off how put-together he typically looks like when you’re on top.

You want to see him just as depraved as you are—panting and thrusting into you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you deep enough. But you can never get Wonwoo to handle you the way you want to be handled when you’re riding him like this. As much as you like seeing those sharp eyes watching your every move, the only way he’ll truly fuck you like you deserve is…

Wonwoo’s brows are quick to furrow once you promptly lift yourself off his lap—length slipping out of your pussy as you make your way towards the bed. However, when you spread yourself out on the mattress face down, ass up, it definitely sparks his interest.

And like a cherry on top, you place those heart-shaped handcuffs of yours on the swell of your ass, almost like you’re inviting him to play with you.

The next thing he knows, the worn out threads of his self-control have snapped. He’s behind you not a moment later—hissing through his teeth as he throws his shirt somewhere on the floor. 

You moan when Wonwoo continues grinding his cock against your ass while he yanks both of your wrists behind you. The cold bite of the handcuffs alerts you to what you’ve allowed him to do, and when the lock clicks in place, you stifle a shuddering sigh into the sheets.

Suddenly, his breath is right next to your ear. “Where’s the key for this thing?” 

You feel Wonwoo tug against the fake metal to test for sturdiness, and you feel your chest warm at his discretion. Though he’s, by no means, soft with you, he always takes the time to check if you’re comfortable with what you’re about to do together—no matter how subtle.

“On the nightstand,” you tell him all while pushing your ass back to meet his shallow thrusts. “You can go wild with the cuffs, daddy. They’re high quality for a reason.”

A low, devilish laugh escapes him. 

“Be careful what you wish for, slut.”

He’s merciless with the way he slides his length back into your sopping hole, one hand pushing the back of your head further into the mattress as the other yanks at the chain link of the handcuffs. Each powerful stroke sends you forward on the bed, and his name tumbles in broken syllables from your mouth as he fucks the shape of his cock into you.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me,” he growls before snapping his hips with a particularly punishing thrust. “We’ve barely even started and I’ve already fucked you stupid? Are you so hungry for cock that you’ve already forgotten who I am?” 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy!” you whimper as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Just feels s-so fucking good. Love your cock so much!” 

“Yeah?” Wonwoo lets out a patronizing laugh before tugging on the handcuffs again—putting a delicious strain on your arms that amplifies your pleasure in some twisted way. “When you were out there dolling yourself up for conventions, did you think about my cock? Did you want me to fill you with my cum in the restroom again? You really fucking liked it when I did that to your Sage cosplay, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble as tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Want to get split open on your cock forever, daddy! Want your cum dripping down my thighs when there’s tons of people around—ah!” 

The sharp sound of one of Wonwoo’s palms colliding with the meat of your ass rings in your ears, and it leaves a pleasurable sting sizzling across your flesh. You can’t help the surge of pride that fills you as Wonwoo moans out loud the moment your pussy clenched around him in surprise.

“Dirty fucking cockslut,” he rasps. “You just love it when you’re being filthy for everyone to see.”

For a moment, you’re liberated from the steady burn your arms have been sustaining in such a complex position. Wonwoo surrenders his grip on the handcuffs—letting your bound wrists fall uselessly atop the small of your back. His cock doesn’t quite slip out of you, but you feel him move around from behind. You crane your neck to see what he’s up to, but when you see him angling his phone in a shot that would definitely make for good content to post later, you feel your arousal spark tenfold.

“Now be a good fucking girl for daddy, and let him show everyone how filthy you are.”

The moment the telltale sound of the record button being pressed hits your ears, Wonwoo reclaims his grip on your dainty handcuffs before resuming his ministrations. You let out a long-winded moan as you meet his powerful thrusts, hands instinctively straining against your restraints out of the need to rub your throbbing clit for faster release, but you know it’s a futile effort.

Behind you, Wonwoo is practically losing his mind over the sight of your creamy essence coating his cock with each slide of his hips. You’re extra responsive with the handcuffs as expected. You’ve always had a thing for switching things up in the bedroom, but you’re clenching around him even tighter than usual. 

He tells himself to just film a few seconds of you getting railed with your heart-shaped handcuffs adding more spice into the mix. Then he can truly have his way with you. 

When he’s satisfied, Wonwoo quickly discards his phone on your bed—eyes darting towards your nightstand before he spots what he’s looking for. Another needy whine reverberates in the air when his cock slips out of you so he can walk over to retrieve it. 

Like the good whore you are, you don’t even move an inch. You patiently wait for Wonwoo to return and fill you up again even if the fact that he’s making you wait in the first place makes you want to be a brat. But when you feel the handcuffs fall away from your wrists after he unlocks them, you whip your head around to flash him a startled look. 

Wonwoo tosses your newest toy away with little concern for their well-being before grabbing your face—crushing your lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Mine,” he growls before manhandling you so that you’re laying on your back. “This slutty fucking pussy belongs to me, got that?”

You nod, moaning as he presses his tongue deep into your mouth. You would say yours in return, but you’re blindsided by the way Wonwoo throws your legs over his shoulders—plunging his fat dick back into the velvet heat of your cunt.

As he whispers the filthiest things into your ear, you figure that Wonwoo must have been just as pent up as you are. The consistency of his thrusts is starting to falter—sharp, calculated thrusts turning erratic and sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up to him. 

With your hands free, you’re able to reach between your thighs in a feeble attempt at finding your clit. However, when Wonwoo catches wind of what you’re trying to do, he slaps your hand away—eyes boring into you with so much angry disappointment, you would’ve cried and begged for his forgiveness right then and there.

“Come on my cock or don’t come at all, whore,” he warns. “I’m already generous enough to have you writhing on my dick, and you can’t even be grateful about that?”

“I am, daddy!” You insist, tears threatening to spill again as you lace your arms around his neck. “You’re hitting me so deep. I’m g-gonna come soon, please—”

“Does my pretty cockslut want me to come inside her?” Wonwoo whispers before pressing your knees against your breasts. “Does she want me to fill her slutty pussy with my cum?”

“I want it, daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you beg as you desperately tug him down for a kiss. 

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve denied you simply because he can, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But for some reason, he lets himself fall into you—lips latching onto yours like he’s done hundreds of times before. 

It seems like the kiss is what catalyzes your release, and Wonwoo groans into your mouth when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock—desperately milking him for his cum. He isn’t too far behind. All it takes is a few more pistons of his hips before he stills inside you. 

The sensation of being filled with his hot cum makes you pull away from his lips as another long-winded moan sings in his ears. Wonwoo’s shudders from the aftermath of his release, all while slowly fucking his emission deeper into your cunt. From the satisfied purr that escapes you, he thinks you like it just as much as he does.

Wonwoo really didn’t plan on staying over. Really, he didn’t. But the way you tug him back down on the mattress right after he’s finished cleaning you up makes him a bit too hyper-aware of his own aching muscles—both from this morning’s weight training and the several rounds he just shared with you. So he lets you snuggle closer to his clothed chest, the warmth from both of your bodies permeating into each other. He’s never felt more toasty beneath a comforter than he does now.

“This is nice,” you tell him quietly. “I wonder if people will like it if I posted videos of us just cuddling.”

Wonwoo laughs, thumbs absentmindedly caressing the red marks left by your handcuffs. “Doubt it.”

Your silly lo-fi music still plays from your computer's speakers , but neither of you could be assed to get up and turn it off. Wonwoo wouldn’t call himself a professional cuddler—you two have only cuddled a total of three times since you started fucking around, and you often complained about how stiff he always is—but from how comfortably your limbs slot into his, he supposes that he’s doing an okay job.

There’s a hint of intimacy charging the air, one that’s leagues different from the carnal lust that clouds his brain every time he fucks you. His chest twists with each passing moment, and Wonwoo makes the mistake of flickering his eyes on your half-asleep form pressed against him. 

It’s been months since you and him started fooling around, but he knows perfectly well that he isn’t the first to have seen you so vulnerable . While he usually doesn’t give a shit about that, and Wonwoo knows the topic is quite sensitive from the little tells he could pick up on for the past few months…

“Can I ask about your old dom?”

Wonwoo can practically feel you stiffen against his touch, which is one of the main reasons why he hasn’t once tried to broach the topic in the past. Even if you could be a nuisance ninety percent of the time, he isn’t a fan of making people uncomfortable on purpose. He’s about to follow his inquiry up with the reassurance that it isn’t a big deal, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—

You squirm away from his embrace, and Wonwoo lets you, albeit hesitantly. His shoulders relax when he realizes you’re just repositioning yourself so that you can face him directly, chewing the inside of your cheek like you don’t have the words just yet. 

“He was…mean,” you whisper, forcing Wonwoo to wrap his arms around you once again. “Even meaner than you are. You’re at least a semi-decent person outside the domspace, but that guy? Piece of shit for real.”

Wonwoo nods. “But you don’t really care about that, do you?”

“Yeah. I can look past him being the meanest dom on the face of the earth. As long as he could satisfy me sexually, then we’re all good.”

“So…what made you part ways?”

Your gaze drifts to Wonwoo for a moment. He looks a lot different when his face isn’t bathed in the deep red of your mood lights. His hair is tousled, eyes squinting a little even if you aren’t that far away from him. And the earnest tone in his voice as he posits the question is something you could get used to hearing every now and again.

“Well, I don’t really do relationships, you know that right?” you say and Wonwoo nods. “My old dom didn’t get that though. He was really possessive of me even outside of our sessions together. It got to a point where he would get really…physical with me just to get the point across.”

Silence dips between the both of you—white noise ringing so loud in Wonwoo’s head, he can barely hear your shitty lo-fi playlist anymore. He’s always had a thing for making you cry during sex, but that’s all it is—some dacryphilia play to scratch both of your kinks. No matter how infuriating you are, he can’t imagine himself ever hurting you outside a pleasurable, sexual context.

Then he remembers the first time you invited him over to film some clips. How you stared at him as he cleaned you up like you aren’t used to the aftercare. Like you aren’t used to being treated delicately.

Is that because of your old shitty dom?

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Wonwoo grumbles before pressing your body closer to his. 

You chuckle. “He is. I’m glad I got out of that before things got even uglier.”

“How’d you even get rid of him?”

“Eh, it’s nothing a little blackmail won’t fix.”

Wonwoo’s brow arches at your response. You’re such an evil little minx, it’s actually admirable.

A little later, the conversation about your previous sexual partners fades away, and you’re back to tracing weird shapes on Wonwoo’s chest for him to guess. He spends half the time convincing you to just shut up and go to sleep, but he finds himself indulging you in your silly whims regardless. 

“Wonwoo, you’re a pretty great fuck buddy, you know that?”

He hums. “Why is that?”

“‘Cause you never go overboard with the stuff you do to me,” you say, eyes drifting away from his as you list off the reasons off your fingers. “You always let me annoy the shit out of you without getting pissed for real. You’re good at keeping secrets, too. Oh, and I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type, which is exactly my type.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “If I become someone that isn’t your type, would that get you off my back?”

“I doubt that would ever happen,” you giggle.

For some reason, part of him wishes for the same thing.

But you don’t have to know about that.

On the morning of Soonyoung’s birthday, Wonwoo wakes up irritated.

He had a dream about you—one where you stopped being fuck buddies with him because you wanted to try things out again with your old dom. Someone that Wonwoo doesn’t even know, not even by name. Yet the rage that dream-Wonwoo felt upon seeing you hand-in-hand with some faceless punk as you both left him in the dust is almost too lifelike to ignore. 

So, he does something stupid.

He pulls up his phone—ignoring every message asking if he’s going to show up for Soonyoung’s party later—and pulls up his Twitter app. He doesn’t spend much time there, even if he is co-managing your super secret porn account. In fact, he eventually muted the notifs for that too, when the appeal of having your illicit acts shared to the unknowing public finally fizzled out. 

But he doesn’t log in to check the notifications you’ve amassed, as well as the pathetic DMs asking where your location was so they could fly in to fuck you themselves. No, Wonwoo scrolls past all the content you’ve made with him to unearth things best left in the past.

Like the videos he films with his own camera, the ones you made with your old dom are more than discreet—despite the hyper-possessive tendencies you’ve mentioned. There’s absolutely nothing to be gleaned about his identity, and Wonwoo is left wondering how stupid he’s being for wanting to know who it was that made you feel good before he came into the picture.

Why does it matter anyway, right? 

Even if you did hypothetically leave him to fuck around with your old shitty dom—or anyone else for the matter—why would it matter to Wonwoo? The two of you aren’t even friends. And if you had some other person to bother, that would mean less shit for him to deal with.

But why does the thought of letting someone else have you fill him with so much vitriol that Wonwoo nearly melts his cereal bowl with his glare alone when he comes out for breakfast?

“Hyung,” Mingyu calls out from the seat adjacent to his, rightfully concerned. “You okay? I can always grab a new brand if you hate this one so much.”

The taut muscles on his face soften at the sulking tone to Mingyu’s voice. “Oh, uh. Sorry. It’s not that. I was just thinking.”

“Of your girlfriend?”

“...Of how I’m going to break your PS5 if you don’t cut it out with that girlfriend shit.”

Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, I paid good money for that! But fine, I won’t pester you anymore if you’re so intent on keeping her a secret from the world.”

A secret… That’s right. 

What you and Wonwoo have is something that not even his best friend is completely aware of. Sure, Mingyu’s roommate-senses have been tingling for weeks, but Wonwoo knows that he will never really know the full story unless either you or Wonwoo let him in on the secret. 

Which will probably never happen if the two of you want to keep your careers, of course.

“Anyway, the rest of the guys are asking if you’re coming to Soonyoung’s party,” Mingyu says in an attempt to divert the conversation, thank god. “Everyone else has already replied except for you.”

“Who else is invited again?”

“Uh, our usual group, Koyahngi, and I dunno, a bunch of other streamers we know. I think some of Soonyoung’s high school friends are gonna show up as a surprise, though, but that’s just what Jihoon told me.”

Wonwoo considers the information at hand for a moment. 

He doesn’t mind mingling with fellow streamers and probably some of Soonyoung’s other friends, but the last time he’s seen you specifically is the day he bit the bullet and asked about your old dom. A conversation which ended on a pretty agreeable note despite the obvious unease on your face when Wonwoo opened the topic.

The fact that you haven’t texted him since is a little worrisome, too. It’s been about two weeks since that happened, and Wonwoo is beginning to wonder if he unknowingly hit a nerve and this is your way of sending him a message. 

He would’ve taken the initiative and checked up on you during your first week of radio silence, but when he catches you doing pretty fine on your latest streams and when he gets roped into some partnership talks with an entertainment agency that wants to recruit him, Wonwoo decides to put it off for later. 

Besides, the two of you are grown adults—so are the rest of your thirsty audience on Twitter. They can survive two weeks without content.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” he tells Mingyu about five minutes later when he’s already putting away the dishes. “What time are we leaving?”

“Uh, the party starts at seven. Do we go early or fashionably late?”

“Early.”

“Of course. Gotta put the senior citizen to bed early.”

“Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

🐈‍⬛: Are you coming to Soonyoung’s party tonight?

🐈‍: yea, i just need to sort some stuff out

🐈‍⬛: Wow

🐈‍: ?

🐈‍⬛: I just didn’t think you’d reply

🐈‍: is daddy gonna punish me for ignoring him for so long &lt;3

🐈‍⬛: I’m being serious

🐈‍: well, so am i

🐈‍: anyway, tell soonie i’ll be there soon

🐈‍: i’m just talking to someone

🐈‍⬛: Okay

Wonwoo has been hanging out with his friends long enough to know that only a select few can really handle their liquor. It doesn’t help that today’s celebrant is the worst lightweight of them all. It’s barely thirty minutes past eight, and Soonyoung is already screaming profanities on one of the tables—using an unopened bottle of absinthe that Seungcheol gifted him with as a makeshift microphone as he belts out trashy lyrics from songs Wonwoo vaguely recognizes.

Mingyu films the entire thing on his phone, stifling his laughter while sipping on his own drink. Wonwoo can only roll his eyes at his best friend’s tolerant behavior.

At around nine, Jeonghan and Joshua arrive at the scene with a tiger-themed cake in tow, and half the friend group has to physically restrain Soonyoung just so the birthday boy could blow out his fucking candles properly. After criticizing the baker’s work (“The eyes are uneven! Tiger eyes are perfectly symmetrical!), Jeonghan rounds up the other guests to sing a loud Happy Birthday just to get Soonyoung to finally shut up. When the song comes to a close, though, Seokmin giggles a little too conspiratorially before dunking Soonyoung’s face into the cake.

It’s gatherings like this—no matter how rowdy and unacceptably loud—that make Wonwoo stick around. He might not look the part, but he loves it when he sees his friends be themselves outside of their streamer personas. It’s like high school and college all over again. 

But when the clock on his phone reads ten-thirty, and he realizes you’re still not at the venue, Wonwoo considers shooting you another text asking where you were. It’s an idea he quickly shoots down the next second because first of all, you’re not even friends. It’d be weird if he just asked out of nowhere. 

He supposes he could use wanting a quick fuck as an excuse to get some intel on your whereabouts. But the thought of lying to you doesn’t sit right with Wonwoo for some goddamn reason. 

When Mingyu offers him a drink, he half-considers taking it just to get his mind off you. He’s pretty sure his roommate has picked up on his distracted behavior, and is only attempting to soothe him somewhat with some beer. But Wonwoo reminds him that he’s one of tonight’s designated drivers and decides to pass.

Everyone in attendance is in the middle of a game of truth or dare when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He’s quick to excuse himself when he sees who it’s from and what message was left for him to read.

🐈‍: help me. please.

Thankfully, you had the foresight to send him your location after shooting him that cryptic text, and Wonwoo is glad to find that you’re just a few blocks away. Still, he decides to take his car since the weather decided to be a bitch, sending in an unexpected downpour in the middle of summer.

He pulls over in front of a closed bookshop once he’s sure you’re in the area—looking around for any signs of you. The streets are deserted, and Wonwoo is trying to figure out what could have possibly brought you to this place at this hour. Why didn’t you just head straight to Soonyoung’s party? 

And why did you call him for help?

Through the rain and the poor lighting, he finally spots you—standing underneath the canopy of a waiting shed next to a man whose back is turned to Wonwoo.

He doesn’t think twice. He just gets out of his car and runs in the rain—chest warming at the sight of your downcast face perking up at the sight of him. Wonwoo would’ve let himself be glad that you're safe and sound, if only your current company didn’t turn around and reveal his identity.

From the looks of it, you seemed to be having a pretty heated conversation before his arrival. Johnny was obviously annoyed when he turned to look at him, but the expression fell away when he realized the newcomer was Wonwoo. 

However, a sinister smile takes its place not a few seconds later.

“Huh, no wonder you were so quick to replace me, doll,” Johnny laughs insincerely, sharp eyes trained on Wonwoo as he stares the younger streamer up and down. “It’s him, huh?”

“This has nothing to fucking do with you, Johnny,” you grit out, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way your voice nearly cracks. “Can you just leave me alone? You don’t need me when you’ve got a bunch of other girls who want to suck your dick, right?”

Wonwoo observes the exchange with a stoic face that doesn’t betray his surprise. It doesn’t take a lot to realize at that moment that Johnny is most definitely the asshole dom whose face he wanted to pummel into the ground when he found out what he did to you. But the things he does know about Johnny and the things he’s just now finding out makes a storm brew inside of his head—unable to separate what’s fact from fiction.

Johnny’s a nice guy. Wonwoo knows this very well. But then again, he’s also the same person who blatantly likes Twitter porn on his official account, so where does that leave him?

“I guess you’re right, but your pussy’s a perfect fit,” Johnny chuckles. “Can’t help but want to hit that again and again, right Wonwoo?”

He stares down at him hard. “Don’t talk about her like she’s just some thing you can play with.”

“Oh? No wonder those new vids of yours have been extra livelier. Your new boytoy is a big old softie, huh?” Another mirthless laugh echoes in the empty streets, and Wonwoo feels his own body heat up with rage amidst the cold rain. “I never would’ve imagined it was Wonwoo, of all people, though. That really is a magic pussy you’ve got there, doll. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out you’re fucking his twelve other friends, too. Fucking whore—”

Before Johnny could get another word out, Wonwoo’s fist had already collided with the side of his face—knocking the older man to the ground with a disgruntled sound. He can vaguely hear you calling his name in shock, pulling him back with your little hands as Wonwoo stares down at a person he used to look up to.

“Call her that one more fucking time,” he rasps—eyes alight with anger, “and I’ll make sure it’s not just a busted eye you’re leaving with tonight.”

“Wonwoo,” you plead, tugging on his arm. “Please. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” 

Johnny still has it in him to bark out another laugh, spitting out some blood from his mouth and onto the pavement. “Running away again, princess? That’s what you’ve always been good at anyway.”

When Wonwoo moves to lunge at him again, you lace your fingers with his. For some reason, it makes him falter. Wonwoo stares at where your hands are adjoined, then looks into your eyes—glistening with tears as you beg him to stop.

Sending Johnny one last threatening glare, Wonwoo tightens his grip on your delicate fingers before leading you back to his car.

Wonwoo doesn’t return to the party.

Instead, he shoots Mingyu a quick ‘something came up’ text, and that he won’t be able to play designated driver for the night. His best friend responds in kind, saying he should have fun with his girlfriend and just take a cab home. On normal days, he would’ve given Mingyu another unsolicited threat, but tonight, he’s focused on something else.

You’ve been quiet the entire time Wonwoo has been driving, hands placed on top of your lap as you gazed at the lights flashing by in a blur of colors and raindrops pouring down the window. He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind, but he figures that it’ll do you some good to have some time to mull over everything that happened. 

But when the silence gets too overbearing even for him, Wonwoo asks:

“What do you usually do when you’re upset?”

You turn your head slowly, red eyes shining even in the dark. Wiping the tears away, you say, “Buy a tub of ice cream and stargaze at the rooftop of my apartment building. That’s kinda impossible right now, though, since…”

Yeah. It was still raining. Fuck.

“Well,” Wonwoo starts, “we can still get some ice cream if you’re up for it. I know a supermarket that’s open twenty four-seven.” 

You don’t reply, simply letting your gaze drift back to the window, and Wonwoo takes that as an affirmative. 

The two of you sit in the silence so deafening, it unsettles even Wonwoo the silence connoisseur himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this kind of situation. Should he offer you some verbal comfort? Should he promise to deal with Johnny if he comes after you again?

In the end, Wonwoo chooses to preserve the quiet—thinking it’s what you need most right now.

He pulls into the supermarket’s parking lot in ten minutes. He’s about to tell you that he won’t take long—glancing around at the backseat to check if Mingyu left his umbrella there. But before he can even get a word out, you’ve already leaned across the center console, grabbing Wonwoo’s face with both hands before smashing your lips together. 

Wonwoo grunts, grabbing your shoulders as he gently pries you off him. “Hey—”

You don’t listen. Instead, you climb on top of his lap despite the limited space. He knows that the steering wheel digging into your back can’t be comfortable at all, so despite himself, Wonwoo pushes the driver’s seat all the way back. But then you choose to do something he doesn’t expect at all.

With the newfound legroom, you sink to the floor—puffy eyes looking up at him as you work on the buckle of his belt. Wonwoo gives you a stare that’s two parts disapproving and one part curious. In the end, he does nothing about it when you undo his jeans and take his cock in the warmth of your hand.

When it comes to you, it doesn’t take a lot to get him hard. The need to please shines in your eyes as you give him possibly one of the best handjobs in his life. You’re not even uttering a single sound, but your titillating gaze sends all the blood in his system straight to his dick.

Your mouth is on him the next thing he knows—giving his fat head some experimental kitten licks that make him want to shove your head down to the base of his cock. But he won’t. Wonwoo isn’t Johnny. He wouldn’t dare to be rough with you after what just happened, despite your apparent eagerness to give him head right here, of all places. 

The mere reminder of that asshole has him buzzing with rage again, but whatever frustration is left over gets quickly replaced with toe-curling pleasure when you take his heavy length in the heat of your mouth. Your tongue lathers the underside of his shaft as every inch bypasses your plump lips. What your mouth can’t reach, you compensate with your fingers—fondling both his balls and the base of his cock with tender yet salacious touches.

He has to tell you to knock it off. This probably isn’t how you’re supposed to deal with…whatever shit you have going on with Johnny. But your mouth feels like fucking heaven, and Wonwoo isn’t a good enough person to deny himself the pleasure.

The rain continues to pour outside, but the sound of it is eclipsed by the wet noise of you bobbing up and down his engorged cock. As Wonwoo’s orgasm slowly builds itself from the ground up, his large hand gathers your hair in a single clump—tugging hard enough to have you moaning around his length.

“Good, good girl,” he rasps before thrusting his hips into your mouth. 

 When he finally comes, you swallow every drop he pours down your throat. Even when your eyes start to sting with tears, you take it all while Wonwoo holds your head in place. 

As his high starts to ebb away, Wonwoo realizes this is probably the most breathless he’s been rendered since he started fucking around with you. He could probably blame that on the shitty car ventilation, but there’s just something so fucking enticing about seeing you wedged beneath him on the floor—face streaked with tears with remnants of his release still sticking on your lips.

Wordlessly, you peel yourself away as you scramble back to the passenger seat, making a nonchalant comment about how much you’ve imagined sucking him off in his car, but Wonwoo doesn’t quite process it all.

When he notices that the glass of his car windows have all but fogged up, he leans forward—one hand raised as he starts drawing shapes into the moisture. You stare at him with a bewildered look, wondering what on earth he was up to. But the moment you realize what he’s drawing, your expression twists from confusion to disbelief.

Stars. Wonwoo was drawing stars on his fucking windshield with his entire dick still out and everything. He doesn’t even look fazed while he’s doing it.

“You can’t be serious,” you say.

He shrugs and grabs some tissues from the glove compartment to clean up before putting himself away—handing it to you right after. 

He’s so fucking thoughtful; it still gives you whiplash.

“You said you wanted to see the stars, right?” Wonwoo shrugs. “This is the best I can give you right now, so.”

You stare at him for a couple of seconds longer—like you can’t believe a man like Jeon Wonwoo really exists on this earth. Then, you laugh. It’s one of those obnoxious ones that typically have Wonwoo rolling his eyes at you, but it sounds like music to his ears after seeing you cry your eyes out .

Wonwoo does manage to get enough ice cream for the two of you to feast on back in your apartment as you both watch this food show that Mingyu keeps recommending to him. The tricky part is trying to get your hands off him the entire time. 

For someone who went through something pretty traumatic earlier in the evening, you’re fucking insatiable. But Wonwoo’s resolve can no longer be shaken, and the dirtiest thing that you end up doing in your bedroom is giving him a kiss on the cheek before bidding him good night.

It’s only when you’re dozing softly against his chest—having trusted him enough to fall asleep in his company—that Wonwoo realizes something that might change the trajectory of your set-up for good.

He’s in love. 

The next morning, Mingyu greets Wonwoo at the apartment like a mother would her troublemaking son who got caught sneaking home in the middle of the night.

“It’s Koyahngi, isn’t it?” he says point-blank. 

Wonwoo doesn’t exactly have the energy to play some mental gymnastics with Mingyu right now. The moment it dawned on him how he actually felt about you, he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Thoughts about what he should do have kept him up all night. Should he come clean about it? Should he just leave it be?

But when he remembers what you said about him during that one visit of his…

I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type.

That pretty much leaves him with one option, which is the one he’s been meaning to take all along. The idea of having to confess his love for you like some sort of prepubescent high schooler honestly makes him want to vomit. But at the same time, resorting to…concealing his feelings from plain sight doesn’t sit well with him either.

But no matter what he feels about either option, Wonwoo knows that keeping his mouth shut about it is the best option. Especially when you’re still emotionally high-strung from that encounter with Johnny. 

“So what if it is?” Wonwoo grumbles, plopping himself onto the couch right next to Mingyu.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought the two of you were a good match,” his roommate offers, and Wonwoo appreciates his pep-talk. Really, he does. But he’s pep-talking him for the wrong fucking outcome. “You should totally go for it if you haven’t already.”

You don’t do relationships, and neither does Wonwoo. He knows if he uses this line of reasoning as a rebuttal to Mingyu’s words, his best friend will stubbornly insist that he get the girl anyways. He’s always been the one-track-mind type that gives it his all once he’s finally set on something. 

But Wonwoo is nothing like his enthusiastic roommate. He’s cold, and sharp-tongued, and everything you probably wouldn’t want in a boyfriend. All he’s good for is a quick fuck every now and again, and he’s not about to start deluding himself that he can be anything more to you.

(Yet part of him still hopes anyway.) 

🐈‍: are u free today

🐈‍⬛: Be there in thirty

🐈‍: whoa i haven’t even told you what i had planned

🐈‍: what if i actually wanted to take you on a date to the park huh

🐈‍⬛: Did you?

🐈‍: no, my new raiden shogun cosplay set just arrived

🐈‍: and we kinda have this unspoken tradition 

🐈‍: if you know what i mean

🐈‍⬛: You want me to fuck you in it?

🐈‍: always <3

There’s something off when Wonwoo shows up at your doorstep.

He knows you easily pick up on it from the way your eyes narrow slightly when you scrutinize him. From what he can tell, he’s acting as aloof as he always does, yet you still ask him, “You okay?” as if he’s doing something different.

“Yeah,” he mumbles before quietly closing the door behind him.

As you lead him to your room, you tell him that you haven’t put on your cosplay yet because the stockings that came with your order were itchy as fuck, and how you’re thinking of having them replaced one of these days. Wonwoo hums in reply, eyes trained on the takeout packaging that litters your kitchen counter. He has half the mind to tell you to start eating healthily, but reminds himself that’s the sort of thing boyfriends do—not fuck buddies.

Your dainty lo-fi playlist is streaming in your room like always, and when you see the assorted fabrics of your cosplay crumpled on your desk, you heave a tired sigh.

“I’m too lazy to put it on now,” you whine. “Can you just fuck me normally?”

He doesn’t give you a verbal response. Instead, Wonwoo pulls you by the hip, pressing you impossibly close to him as he rests his forehead on top of yours. You startle a little at his abruptness, but your body language betrays no sign of resistance. If anything, you lean more into his touch as the seconds tick past.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you whisper like you’re afraid of shattering something delicate. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, and before you can say anything else in response, he slots your mouths together in a slow, sensual kiss. 

Wonwoo likes to get things done hard and fast. He’s a man who sticks to his schedules for the day if he can help it, so he typically treats these sessions with you as timed encounters. More often than not, he’ll be out of your door in two hours or less so he can dedicate his time to working out or planning for new content.

Now, it’s a little different. He takes his sweet time with you—mouths moving in voluptuous unison as if he’s finally dedicating each second to truly memorize the curve of your lips against his. You moan into the kiss, fingers threading through his dark hair before he pulls away from you with a breathless sigh. 

Wonwoo stares at you like you’re the center of the universe. He can only hope you see the same thing when you stare back.

You know when Wonwoo takes his glasses off, he means business. One moment he’s placing them on top of your nightstand, and the next, you’re suddenly pinned beneath him on your bed—getting your lips devoured by the insatiable man on top of you. 

There’s something so innately alluring to his kisses that you haven’t felt during the last time you fucked Wonwoo in this same room. Those were less kisses and more of a clash of teeth and tongue. Now, he stokes a kind of desire that almost scares you to have. You’re afraid if you indulge yourself too much in this version of him, you’ll get addicted. 

The two of you are supposed to be filming today. Yet you seem to have forgotten all about your plans as you lose yourselves in the heat of each other’s bodies. But despite the mellow pace that Wonwoo has established, the desperation still lingers in his touch. 

He flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting right on top of him, gasping out loud as you steady yourself across his hips. Wonwoo smiles lazily, drawing circles along the curve of your thigh before teasing the waistband of your shorts with a single finger. You whimper as you grind down against his hardening length, still confused about how soft he’s being with you today, but no complaints are going to be filed.

“You want my cock that badly?” he asks, and you nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Then work for it.”

You bite your lip, not bothering to remove either of your clothes when you haul out Wonwoo’s length from the fabric of his sweats. Just a few pumps from your small fingers has him hot and heavy in your hand—making your mouth water with anticipation. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of taking him inside your tight little pussy.

Nudging the hem of both your shorts and panties to the side, you quietly sink down on his engorged cock with a strained whimper. The lack of prep definitely isn’t doing you any favors, but the raw stretch of him so deep inside your walls sends a rush of pleasure straight to your skull. In no time, you’re bouncing on top of his lap like a bitch in heat—mind hazy with the feeling of Wonwoo hitting you even deeper than usual. 

You sort of expected him to amp up the dirty talk. You don’t always get to ride him like this, yet Wonwoo stays perfectly quiet as he watches you thrash and moan above him. His hands rest comfortably at the curve of your waist, guiding your movements, all while offering up a few thrusts of his own.

It feels so fucking good whenever he hits that perfect spot inside you, but the pleasure pulls the wool over your eyes because you’re completely oblivious to the way Wonwoo is looking at you right now.

He was a fool to think that if he just had his way with you like he usually does, those delusions of his would go away naturally. That it would serve as an anchor to the reality of your relationship with him. But when Wonwoo has you chasing your high right before him—so devastatingly beautiful in the lowlights of your bedroom—he realizes he’s fucked.

All this does is make him fall even deeper in love with you. 

“S-So close,” you whimper, grinding down on his cock with each downward thrust. “Wonwoo, please, please. Fuck—!” 

He quickly shoots up from his initial position, lying down, fingers tangled in your hair as he forces your head close to meld your lips together once again. Wonwoo fucks up into you relentlessly, his breathing erratic against your mouth, all while he tries his best to keep all of his secrets from coming out of his own lips. 

You’re the most infuriating person he knows, but he can’t help but look after you anyways. He claims to hate you, but the way he’s rolling his hips into yours would tell a different story. You drive him insane each waking day, yet you have no clue of the extent of it.

He would never admit it—not in a million, billion years—but you’re Wonwoo’s favorite poison, and he’d rather watch himself burn from the inside out than find an antidote. 

He hates having to hide you away from the world like this. Hates treating you like some sort of dirty little secret. He’s allowed to share you with the world through anonymous pornography, but not as a bonafide lover, and it drives him up a fucking wall every time he thinks about it. 

But the thing about Wonwoo and sex is that once he finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, his clarity of mind is a bit too quick to settle. As he helps clean you up in the bathroom, he tells himself that it’s simply impossible for someone like you to want anything more with someone like him. After all, you said it yourself.

You don’t do relationships. 

Who the hell is Wonwoo to change your mind about that anyway?

“Wonwoo?”

He looks up at you just when he just finished wiping a cool, wet towel across your leg. “What?”

Your eyes shy away from his. “Um, you might call me a sap or something, but I…kinda liked it.”

“Liked what?”

“That,” you say while making some vague hand gestures at him. “When you were all gentle with me and stuff. I wouldn’t mind having soft Wonwoo again next time.”

Next time.

The words echo in Wonwoo’s mind far more than what he expected, and he finds himself frowning at the notion. Can he still keep up this charade, now that he’s aware of his feelings for you? How long can he continue the act until he inevitably slips up, and you find out?

How long does he have left before you drop him because he’s starting to want more from you?

“Wonwoo, where are you…?”

He doesn’t hear the rest of what you have to say because he’s already padding out of the bathroom—heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. Wonwoo fishes his glasses from the nightstand and the keys to his car. He’s more than intent on getting out of here as soon as possible, but it seems you have other plans.

“Hey,” you call out before tugging at his arm. Wonwoo forces himself not to meet your eyes, but he feels the intensity of your stare regardless. “You’re acting really fucking weird today. Is there something wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

“No,” he mumbles, wanting to add, I’m the one who’s done something you won’t like, but opting to keep his silence instead. 

“Then…why are you acting like this?” 

The pleading look in your eyes almost makes him cave in and pour out everything that’s been flooding his heart for the past few days. It’s so easy to just rip the band-aid off and be honest. To risk everything for the abysmal chance of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Wonwoo knows that life isn’t a fucking gacha game, and he’s not about to throw away what he has with you now, especially when he knows what he wants doesn’t coincide with what you want. 

“Just having a shitty day,” he reasons, and the lie tastes like acid on his tongue. “I’ll text you later. Bye.”

Before Wonwoo steps out of your door, he makes another mistake of looking back. Now, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get the image of you on the verge of tears as you stood all alone in your bedroom for reasons he’ll never know

Wonwoo runs into Saerom in the supermarket one fateful afternoon.

Mingyu is usually the one who does the grocery runs for both of them—being the person who knows which brands are best for both food and apartment maintenance and all. But his best friend happened to land himself a modeling gig recently, and they rescheduled the shoot today on short notice. Wonwoo insisted that they could live another day without eating rice, but Mingyu was having none of it, and gave his roommate a full list of groceries he expects him to buy no later than today.

So here he is in the canned goods aisle, expression mirroring Saerom’s when she recognizes him as well. It’s not often that Wonwoo bumps into a familiar face in this part of town, so he’s rightfully surprised.

When she asks him if he’s free to have lunch with her at a nearby bistro, he sees no reason to decline. Saerom has always been his good friend, and it’s only natural for him to want to catch up. That, and he’s curious about what she’s doing here in the first place.

“I just moved into the neighborhood actually,” she explains once the waiter is done taking their orders. “Anyway, how are you? I haven’t spoken to you since that time I hijacked your stream.”

Wonwoo clearly remembers the day she asked him to look out for you all those months ago. Saerom is quite literally an angel, extending her concern even to the people who probably don’t need nor deserve it. He gulps down his water thickly, wondering if he should tell her the truth. 

But with how his brain seems to be all over the place these days, he ends up coming clean about it anyway.

When the food arrives, Wonwoo tells Saerom about the truth behind the porn videos implicating you in the past—how you’re actually the one being filmed in all of them. He also tells her about how Wonwoo takes part in the creation process of said videos (deciding to leave Johnny out of the story because that’s going to be another can of worms to deal with). Then, he ends the tall tale with the begrudging fact that he may or may not have caught feelings for someone he isn’t supposed to.

Saerom listens intently to each word—chewing on her salad with a contemplative look. She never betrays any sort of expression that would suggest her true opinions on the matter, which makes Wonwoo all too thankful that she’s the one he entrusted this with.

“I see,” she sighs once she’s finished the rest of her food. “I knew something was a bit off about her situation, but I’m glad that she’s safe, at least. Although about that budding romance of yours… Don’t you think it’ll be easier if you just discussed it with her directly? An outsider like me can only offer you so much advice, Wonwoo.”

He sighs, stabbing his food with his fork. “I know, but…what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me when she finds out how I really feel?”

Saerom lets out a wistful sigh—staring directly at Wonwoo like she intends for him to remember her next words for a long time.

“Then that’s your sign to find someone else who can accept the love you’re more than willing to give. If she turns you down, that’s more of her loss than yours, you know.”

Wonwoo wants to tell her she’s giving him too much credit. It almost sounds like Saerom is insisting that he’d actually make a good boyfriend. He half-wonders if he should ask her if she accidentally mistook him for Mingyu, but then Saerom’s phone rings in the middle of their conversation. 

It’s a short call, and Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening in to give her some privacy. When it ends, though, she bows her head in apology, letting him know that her boyfriend’s waiting for her at the parking lot.

“It’s nice meeting you again, Wonwoo.” She smiles before pulling him into a hug. “I hope your girl problems are already sorted out the next time I see you.”

Wonwoo lets out an uneasy laugh as he returns her embrace. 

He really hopes so, too. 

One month.

It takes Wonwoo one entire month to reach out again, right after he left you without a word in your apartment last time. Part of him feels like he should be guilty for ghosting you so suddenly like that, but he swears he didn’t ghost you. 

He’s just…giving both of you some time and space away from each other. God knows his judgment gets clouded whenever he’s near you. 

Still, he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him for it right away. Much like Mingyu, you’re the sulky type. But while he usually deals with Mingyu’s sulking by leaving him alone for a few hours, that solution is counterproductive when it comes to you because…he’s already left you alone for a month. Wonwoo has a feeling that if he prolongs it any further, you might not talk to him ever again.

You were already wrapping up this evening’s stream when he left his own apartment, and he figures you’re getting ready for bed when he gets to yours.

His knuckles rap against the door once, twice, and he waits. 

Not that Wonwoo is counting, but it takes you five minutes to answer the door—already in your comfortable pajamas and your kitten skincare headband resting on top of your head. It seems that you weren’t expecting any late-night visitors when your eyes nearly bug out at the sight of him. 

“Won—” You shake your head as if you can’t even bear to say his name. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitates.

Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for you. He gave you space for one month, and he still doesn’t know what to say when he finally deigned to show you his face. 

Your posture is rightfully apprehensive. Wonwoo can almost imagine how you’ve branded him as a raging ghoster in your head for the past few weeks. For a moment, he fears that you’ll throw him out of your apartment before he can even set foot in it, but you simply wait for him to respond—affording him some patience he definitely doesn’t deserve.

“I…” Wonwoo starts but his voice falters, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly. “You’re getting better at using Chamber.”

You scowl at him, and if Mingyu was here, Wonwoo thinks he would’ve face-palmed because of how pathetic he’s being right now. 

Seriously? Bringing up the latest Valorant agent she’s playing when you’re supposed to say you’re in love with her? Wonwoo can practically hear his roommate in his head, along with an added, You’re so fucking mid, hyung. 

“Okay,” you say, still visibly wary of his presence. “Anything else? I’d rather get everything out of the way so you can continue ghosting me in peace.” 

Fuck. He knew it.

“I’m—” 

Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was too scared of how I felt about you to deal with it like a normal person.

“—starting to think that you’re fine without me after all.”

At this point, Mingyu would’ve pummeled him to the ground.

Jeon Wonwoo, you have the emotional intelligence of a rock, imagination-Mingyu points out, and he couldn’t agree more.

“Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I am fine without you, asshole,” you bite back snarkily, making the motions to shut the door in his face, but Wonwoo wedges his foot in between. 

“Wait—fuck. I’m sorry,” he insists, swallowing thickly. “Can I come in? Please?”

The desperation in his tone makes you arch an eyebrow. Wonwoo never says please. It’s almost always the other way around, whether in a sexual context or not. So even if you know you should just leave him there like how he left you a month ago, you breathe out a sigh in defeat before opening the door wider for him.

“Fine.”

You’ve never sat at your dining table with Wonwoo. You never had to. Whenever he comes over, it’s either to have sex or let you teach him about a game he can’t be assed to play on his own. He doesn’t stay long enough to warrant asking him if he wants some takeout or leftovers from the fridge, so seeing him nursing a glass of water across from you still feels surreal. 

“So are you going to explain why you suddenly just ditched me, or are we going to stew in the silence all night?” you ask. 

Wonwoo’s gaze flickers over to you irritably, and you hate to admit that the sight of that expression makes a pang of…something ripple in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, much less spoken to him, so even if you should be fucking mad, you can’t help but miss him. 

God fucking damn it.

He doesn’t answer right away. Like he’s carefully choosing which words he’ll allow you to hear and which would be better off unsaid. But if there’s something you’ve come to know about Wonwoo after all these months, it’s that he doesn’t have good intuition when it comes to other people’s emotions. 

Even if it seems like he’s being particularly careful about his words, that doesn’t guarantee that what’s going to come out of his mouth won’t be stupid.  

“I just had to clear my head for a while,” he says, providing no context whatsoever, and that makes you frown even more. 

“Clear your head?” you echo as you cross your legs. “From what?”

Wonwoo’s usually aloof look shifts for a moment. An unreadable expression flits across his face, but it’s gone before you can even make sense of it.

“It’s nothing you should worry about.”

“Nothing I should… Wonwoo, you were already acting strange the last time you were here. Then you went ahead and ignored me for an entire month!” You slam your hands on the table, the Wonwoo’s glass rattling in the process.

“How am I not supposed to worry when all this time, you made me think I was the reason you suddenly just flaked on me like that?”

He narrows his eyes at you, as if he doesn’t quite get why you’re pissed. “Why does it even matter? I’m just your fuck buddy, right? Why should you care if I just come and go whenever I feel like it?”

The apathetic tone that accompanies his words lances straight through your chest. Were you an idiot for believing that the look he wore earlier in front of your apartment was genuine? That he was actually apologetic for leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to drive him away without a word?

Your fists shake from where you’re pressing them into the polished wood of your dining table. Wonwoo’s indifferent stare doesn’t let up, and as the white noise rings in your ears, it makes you wonder…

“Why’d I have to fall in love with someone like you?”

The words come out so softly, so quietly that you doubt Wonwoo would’ve heard you. But as your vision gets blurry with tears, you don’t see how  surprise begins to eclipse his aloofness.

Wonwoo felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when his ears caught what you just said. He couldn’t have heard wrong. It was too quiet in your apartment to mistake what you said for anything else.

You’re…in love with him?

“You know what?” You breathe in deeply, eyes darting up to the ceiling as you wipe off the evidence of your vulnerability. “Just…leave, Wonwoo. I can’t talk to you right now. Please.”

“Say it again.”

When your gaze drifts back to him, it’s accompanied with an expression twisted into disbelief.

“What?”

Before you can even think about what he could even mean by that, Wonwoo gets up from his seat, striding over to your side of the table. You flash him another apprehensive stare, but all of a sudden, he cups your face in both of his hands—delicately, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

“Tell me you’re in love with me.”

You immediately bristle at his request. “Are you fucking insane? I know you’re a sadist but—”

Wonwoo presses forward without warning—capturing your lips in an unsolicited kiss that catches you off guard but angers you at the same time. No matter how badly you missed having him pressed up against you in more ways than one, you’re not going to let him trample on your feelings again. 

“I hate you,” you rasp, salty tears breaking their tension across your lashes as they slide down your cheeks in glistening streaks. “I fucking hate you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your words carry little weight to them, and Wonwoo is completely aware of this. Almost like he’s trying to placate you, he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs—that hard-eyed gaze weathering into something softer, more sincere with each passing second. 

You abhor how handsome he looks like this.

“Is that your way of telling someone you love them?” he chuckles breathlessly, lips rising to the crown of your head as he presses a soft kiss on top. “If that’s the case, then…”

“I fucking hate you, too.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure how long the two of you have been going at it, but by your fourth orgasm, your newfound lover is yet to be sated.

“Again,” he growls, tugging your limp body closer to his. “Say it again.”

One of the things Wonwoo particularly likes about exploring all sorts of sexual escapades with you is that you teach him things about himself that he never even knew about. 

First was that stupid daddy kink, and now…

“I love you,” you whimper, mindlessly grinding against his still hard cock despite being worn and spent. “I love you, Wonwoo.”

Despite the fact that your honesty drives him to near-insanity, Wonwoo can’t help the relieved sigh that fills his veins every time you utter the words. At first, you stubbornly kept up the act of hating him as he railed you into the mattress, but with every mind-numbing orgasm, your hate slowly bled into love, and Wonwoo finds it fucking cathartic. 

You beat him to what he came over to tell you himself. It was a little embarrassing on his part, he has to admit, but there’s some sort of relief that comes with knowing the same person he’s been vying for also feels the same way.

He’ll tell you the words properly someday.

Maybe not today or tomorrow, but Wonwoo promises that he’ll let you hear how much he adores you soon enough.

For now, he’ll give you one last release.

He’s certain that he can still go one more round, but he can’t really say the same for you. If Wonwoo makes you cream on his cock one more time, he’s afraid you’ll actually pass out from exhaustion. 

So instead, he lays you down on your plush pillows—crawling lower down your body until he finds himself between your legs. He chuckles when you crane your neck weakly to see what he’s trying to do, but Wonwoo is already hooking your thighs over his shoulders before you can say a word.

Your body twitches from oversensitivity as his tongue laves at your ruined cunt—not caring that his own spend has mixed with yours from where the creamy liquid seeps from your hole. Wonwoo groans into your cunt when your thighs squeeze around his head as if meaning to suffocate him with your pussy.

Honestly? If that’s the way he’s gonna go, he’ll accept it with open arms.

“Daddy,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his tousled hair. “I c-can’t anymore…”

Wonwoo suckles at your clit in response, earning himself a high-pitched whine as you roll your hips into his face. For someone who claims she can’t come anymore, you’re awfully eager for him to pinpoint your orgasm again.

“You can, baby,” he insists, peppering your inner thighs with kisses. “You can ‘cause you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

He feels your inner muscles clenching at his words, and Wonwoo makes a mental note to praise you more often. You might just like that more than his run-of-the-mill dirty talk after all.

“‘m your good girl,” you babble. “Always daddy’s good girl.”

Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him.

When you’ve recovered from the crest of your final orgasm, Wonwoo carries you to the bathroom and carries you into a bath he’d drawn himself. You complain about how he didn’t set the temperature in the tub right, and Wonwoo promises to do better next time. 

As the two of you soak in the semi-warm water, Wonwoo rests his head against the tiled wall—the fatigue starting to seep into his bones. He doesn’t let himself complain, though, because if he’s feeling spent, he can only imagine how sore you must be feeling. He wonders if he should order some food for the both of you or just let you sleep right away.

“Wonwoo?”

He raises an eyebrow at your meek voice calling out to him. “Yeah?”

You shift a little on his lap, turning around as droopy eyes bore into his. Wonwoo is about to call you out for being weird, but the words evaporate on his tongue when you lean forward to peck his lips. 

“Can I borrow your phone?”

He tilts his head to the side, wondering why you’re asking for his phone. You couldn’t possibly be asking him to film some content here in the tub…right?

Wonwoo watches in complete silence as you open his Twitter app—further feeding into his curiosity. But he doesn’t comment on whatever it is you’re about to do, patiently watching as you maneuver around the accounts logged onto his phone. 

However, when you pull up on the Settings tab of that porn account the two of you have been running for months, scrolling all the way down—

“What are you doing?” he asks as your finger hovers over the ‘Deactivate account’ button.

You glance at him, confused. “I’m getting rid of this account. What else does it look like?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t share my sex tapes with the rest of the world now that I have a boyfriend.”

The bathroom falls silent for about three heartbeats before Wonwoo wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. You yelp in surprise, struggling against his iron-tight grip in a way that has water splashing all around you. Wonwoo couldn’t care less, though.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the naked skin of your shoulder. 

You don’t respond for a while, like you’re surprised by his easy admission. But the tension in Wonwoo’s spine unravels when you rest your head across his shoulder, chuckling as you caress his face tenderly.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll let you off the hook though,” you chide. “You’ve got several months of dates to make up for. Just because you took the express lane into being my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you get to skip out on the effort that normally comes with it.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, turning your face so his eyes can meet yours. 

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to run away from his own feelings for an entire month. If only he’d been more honest with both you and himself the last time he was here, he could’ve spent all the weeks after with you cradled in his embrace.

But then again, it’s the choices you both made so far that led you to where you are now.

And for now, he’s perfectly content with that.

“Challenge accepted.”

part one - part two - part three - part four

q: is there going to be a third part? a: yes! however, part 3 is literally just in its early stages of creation. i don't even have a serious doc for it, just a few vague plot bunnies gathering dust in my head SJDFHDFG BUT since i'm feeling generous, attached below is a little sneak peek of what you can expect!

This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found.  How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?

aaaaaand that's all i have for now! thank you so much for waiting patiently for this installment! it took me an entire month since i posted the teaser, but here it is hehe :3c i hope you all liked it! do stay tuned for that third part, whenever the hell i can get around to writing it T T

this is part of the game over series!

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

[gummygowon]

bingo | park seonghwa

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst + fluff, single dad!seonghwa x reader

warnings: brief mention of hwa's ex partner not being in their daughter's life

author's note: after seeing seonghwa on that one show with kids i literally cannot get dad!teez out of my head

it's been almost a month? since you've started going out with seonghwa. he was a great guy, a little older than you and was always a gentleman to you, what more could you ask for? at this point, you were waiting for seonghwa to make it official but there was just something that was holding him back. you didn't know what it was but you trusted that with time he'll tell you.

tonight, was another date night and even after all these days you still got nervous before each one. it was no different when you arrived at seonghwa's house fiddling with the hem of your cardigan.

hesitantly, you knocked on the door to reveal a disheveled looking seonghwa. his usually slicked back hair wasn't done and a few buttons on his shirt were open.

"hi," seonghwa breathes out, a tired smile on his face.

"are you okay, hwa?" you ask almost instantly, concern taking over before you notice a tiny figure waddling up behind him. big doe eyes looking up at you from behind his legs, "oh hello!"

"yeojin, go into your room really quickly. appa will be there in a second." seonghwa softly asks, the exhaustion evident in his voice. "come in, i'm so sorry. just give me a minute, things have been...chaotic."

"oh no worries." you respond empathetically, taking note of how many toys and coloring books were scattered all over the place. so he has a child? is he divorced?

before too many questions popped into your mind, seonghwa immediately began talking as he began to pick up the scattered toys. "i'm so sorry about the mess. i had to stay at the office a little longer and then i picked up yeojin late and i just haven't had time to clean up and then our babysitter canceled last minute and now-"

"hey, hey," you interrupt before seonghwa combusts from being overwhelmed. to ease the burden, you also begin to pick up the toys around the living room after you placed a hand on his back. "it's okay. don't worry about it. there's always tomorrow seonghwa."

"i know, i know but-wait. you're not mad or disgusted?" the man stops in his tracks looking at you perplexed.

"i'm a little surprised if i'm being honest. i know taking care of a child is hard and by yourself i assume is even harder. your kid is more important than anything in the world, missing one date won't kill me hwa."

seonghwa was standing still, not a sound coming out his mouth which was beginning to freak you out. did you say the wrong thing? is seonghwa yeojin's dad or? "seonghwa?"

"sorry, i'm just a little shocked. not a lot of people are very happy when they find out they've been going out with a single dad." seonghwa lightly jokes trying to ease the tension in the air. "thank you though. it means a lot. really."

"of course," you smile at him.

a door opens to reveal a tiny yeojin peeking out from what you presumed to be her room.

"hey bubba, what's up." seonghwa asks, his voice becoming much softer.

she doesn't say much but instead pads over to the coffee table and attaches herself to her dad. "can we draw?"

"of course bubs. let appa go get the markers."

"i can get them." you say faster than seonghwa gets up to which he directs you over to one of the drawers in the living room.

upon your arrival, seonghwa has a bluey coloring book out for yeojin. crutching down to reach the table, you gasp softly at the blue dog. "is that bluey?"

yeojin nods her head shyly, a small smile appearing on her face as seonghwa looks up at you in surprise.

"ahh, i love bluey! who's your favorite character?" you ask watching yeojin point to the smaller, light colored dog.

"bingo?" yeojin nods again, her smile growing even bigger. "no way, i like her too!"

seonghwa watched the two of you converse in awe and he swears he couldn't have fallen more in love with you. it was always a gamble bringing up the fact that he had a kid to his dates and lately he's been ghosted more times than he can count. maybe that's why seonghwa took so long to talk about yeojin. although, he would never admit it, you had him wrapped your finger and he was scared to lose you.

so far though, you were taking his little "surprise" or "fun fact" about him better than he thought you would. still, he was worried what you would say when yeojin left the room. would you be mad at him? dump him on the spot? ghost him after tonight? he's never had one of his flings (?) ever meet yeojin because they all left at the mention of a kid. to say seonghwa was terrified of your reaction was a massive understatement.

"seonghwa?" you ask, pulling the dad out of his thoughts. "yeojin wants to watch bluey."

"right." he answers, gently removing yeojin from his lap as he goes to scrounge for the remote in his unusually disorganized apartment.

while seonghwa looks for the remote, you continue to converse with yeojin about bluey which was the show you ironically watched during dinner time. hey, there's actually plot and messages in the show okay?

by the time seonghwa returned, the two of you were in a deep conversation about some episode regarding bingo and bluey playing pretend with their grandad. almost immediately, yeojin eye's become glued to the screen as soon her dad puts on the kid's show leaving you and seonghwa to talk amongst each other.

"so, you know bluey?" seonghwa asks, a teasing tone to his voice.

an embarrassed laugh slips past your lips, "uh yeah, sounds silly but i watch it as background noise, you know?"

"i'm not judging," he pauses, "just surprised."

"yeah, i like the accents." you say in a panic causing seonghwa to smile, "so, um i don't mean to pry but i assume yeojin's yours?"

the smile slowly fades on his face as seonghwa feels the guilt build in his stomach. "yeah, her, uh mom isn't in the picture anymore."

"oh, i'm so sorry to hear that."

"it's fine now, it's better without her." seonghwa looks down at his hands trying to distract himself from the thoughts about the past.

"oh."

there was a beat of silence where the both of you didn't dare to look at each other, too afraid to make things weird. only the faint conversations of the tv and the sounds of the marker on paper were heard.

"look, i'm really sorry for dumping all this on you." seonghwa gestures to an oblivious yeojin. "i know you probably weren't expecting a child tonight or any of this really. i completely understand if you don't want to talk again or you need space. whatever you want, i'll do."

"it's okay,"

"i-you're not mad?" seonghwa asks in shock.

"i mean i'm not mad. i understand not bringing up a daughter on the first date. but i'm just a little disappointed you didn't tell me sooner." you confess.

"i didn't want to lose you."

"seonghwa-"

"i was trying to plan the perfect time to talk about yeojin but i just got so swamped with everything that time slipped through my fingers and you had to find out in such a shitty way."

your eyes dart towards a sleepy yeojin on seonghwa's lap at the curse word. even he jumps a little at his realization and then calms down when he realized that his baby girl was almost knocked out in his lap.

"would you have told me before we made things official?" you ask, testing the waters about how serious you could go tonight with the questions.

"yes. most definitely yes. i couldn't just ask you to be my partner and then surprise you that i have a whole child that i've been hiding from you."

interesting. so was he going to tell you about yeojin soon? was he going to make things official?

seonghwa could see the gears turning in your head at his words. "it sounds hypocritical now but trust me i really wanted you two to meet. i just-i really like you y/n."

you go quiet. processing everything he was saying. from what he was saying there was a very very high chance he wants you to be his like officially his but even if he actually wanted to make things official, he has a whole child. a child without a mother. were you really ready to take on the responsibility to be one? or anything similar to that role?

being with seonghwa meant much more than just being together and loyal to one another. being honest, you didn't mind yeojin. so far you got along great with her but a single interaction and convo won't predict the future of your relationship with her. it's a lot definitely but-

"y/n," seonghwa softly says pulling you out from your daze, "i'll be right back i'm gonna put yeojin down in her room."

you hum in response, letting your thoughts consume you once more.

your brain was beginning to ache because of how much you were thinking but one thing was for certain. you really liked seonghwa. enough that you were willing to accept everything that came with him - including yeojin.

you reminded yourself that dating seonghwa didn't mean automatically becoming a parent all of a sudden. he wasn't asking that of you. probably won't for a long time. he wants you for you. it's just a bonus you got along with yeojin so far.

there was a soft click of the door closing that made you turn your head. you look over to see seonghwa awkwardly make his way over to you, uncertainty written all over his face.

"i'm sorry for going quiet on you." you apologize, fingers toying with the hem of your cardigan once more. "i was just thinking."

a quiet laugh escapes seonghwa, "it's okay, don't worry about it. i'm sure tonight was a lot. but-"

"listen, seonghwa," oh here it comes. the "i'm so sorry, i don't think this will work out anymore". "i don't know what your plans were for us but regardless of what happened tonight, i want to be more. i know you having a whole kid might make things difficult or a little confusing but, i'm willing to try with you."

seonghwa felt his heart drop and then pick back up again when you finished talking. he didn't know what to say. he was grateful, excited, but most of all relived.

"so, how does another date this thursday night," seonghwa pauses, trying to not choke on his words, "as mine sound?"

"are you finally asking me to be your partner, park seonghwa?" you smile. it's finally happening.

"yes." seonghwa breathes out, truly terrified of your answer.

"then yes, i would love to." you answer, wrapping your arms around seonghwa's neck.

"sounds good then my love." seonghwa mumbles, his heart racing and his head buzzing from the overwhelming night but it didn't matter to him.

you were finally his.

#and if i make oneshots for each member but dad!teez au #wait i kinda wanna do that now omg #ateez oneshots #ateez angst oneshot #ateez fluff oneshot #ateez angst oneshots #ateez imagines #ateez fluff imagines #ateez angst imagines #ateez x yn #ateez x reader #park seonghwa oneshot #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa oneshot #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa oneshot fluff #seonghwa oneshot angst #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa x reader

[jaeminify]

finders, keepers.

pairing ☆ na jaemin x f!reader

warning(s) ☆ suggestive, jaemin is a little possessive when he's riled up. daddy/sir kink. car sex. reader rides jaemin. breeding kink. finger sucking. slight choking kink. big dick jaemin.

author's note ☆ this is my first ever smut oneshot so i apologise if it isn't up to par or as good as a lot of many very talented writers here!! im quite intimidated to write about 7dream but its been a want to write about them so!!! yay tehe i've been wanting to step out of my comfort zone with writing so i went with it! comments and feedback/reblogs are appreciated <3 some words are a little repetitive and there may be some spelling errors cause i wrote this all in one sitting at 3am and was 2 eager to post it so i apologise in advance for the misspellings :,( will fix it when i reread !! hope you enjoy <3

"Baby you're clinging onto me a lot." Jaemin laughs softly when he feels you hug his arm tighter towards yourself.

Subconsciously you don't realise the way your breasts feel on his arms, but Jaemin's a gentleman. He doesn't say anything because he doesn't mind it, truly. He loves how clingy you are today and how pretty you look in your new outfit. He feels a surge of pride rush through himself knowing he played a part in making you happy.

You, on the other hand, while you were glad Jaemin had gotten a day off to spend his time with you, you were mostly thinking of the time. How long more until you two could drive home to beat the traffic, and more exactly; how long more until Jaemin would drive you both home so you could have him fuck you until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Jaemin," You whined, leaning against his chest now when the two of you enter the elevator.

In one hand Jaemin's holding all of the bags you both bought on your trip to the mall. The other effortlessly slides its way up your hips, to your torso then back down to rest on your hips as he pulls you closer. Had there been anyone else but the two of in that elevator, your public display of affection would be a little nauseating to say the least.

"Yeah, angel?" Jaemin turns his head to the side, pressing the button to the next floor you're heading to. He exhales a sigh of relief when he feels your lips on his neck.

It's a habit you do because you have to tiptoe to reach his lips, but Jaemin loves it.

"God, I love you baby." He breathes out, slipping his hand off your waist to grab your chin, tugging your lips up to his so you're forced to balance your hands onto his chest.

You giggle when he pecks your lips, letting him swallow your laughter while he repeatedly leaves a peck, two and more until the elevator indicates you've reached your floor.

The two of you continue on with your shopping with you dragging Jaemin to a few stores you see while he walks in after you with a lazy grin on his face. An hour passes and when Jaemin notices that your usual content smile isn't on your face anymore, he suggest to get a drink on the way home before you two walk back to his car. You know he does this to make sure you don't dehydrate incase traffic gets bad, and he's done it endlessly of times, but it never failed to make you smile.

It isn't until the two of you are back in his car when Jaemin realises the reason behind your effort in being affectionate.

"Fuck." Jaemin has to pull away from you lips, hands harshly tugging at your hips when you start to grind them against his crotch.

"Needed you so bad today, Jaem." You whined, resting your head on his shoulder while your hips had a mind of their own. "Need you now."

It wasn't like you wanted to cum before having Jaemin please you. But you had been holding on the entire day and you were desperate. So, desperate that Jaemin noticed it the second he pulled you in for a kiss when you got into the car.

"Shit— Fuck, baby I'm so fucking sorry." He murmured, pulling you in even closer than before so you were now pushed up against his chest. He thanks his past self for tinting his windows, but a small part of him wished he didn't.

For personal reasons.

When you start to grind against him even more, lifting up your skirt so he can grab your ass without having any material but your laced underwear under his hands, Jaemin throws all caution to the wind and doesn't care where he is.

Nobody understood his pain of having a beautiful, gorgeous looking girl look so needy in his lap.

Who was he to say no to making you feel good? He definitely wouldn't leave you on your own for this. He wouldn't forgive himself.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier, baby?" Jaemin cooed, leaving one arm to wrap around your middle while the other cupped your chin. He mocks your pout when you look up at him and only places his thumb against your lower lip.

"Poor baby's been suffering the whole day. Can't fucking believe I left you like this without knowing." Jaemin whispers and it's enough to raise goosebumps all over your skin. You don't respond, only looking up at him with your beautiful, gorgeous eyes that Jaemin drowns in. "Wish you could see yourself right now, angel. So fucking pretty."

You whimper at his words, hands coming up to clutch at his shirt, hands gripping tighter as your tongue slips out to lick his thumb. He pushes it deeper into your mouth, letting it rest on your tongue while you start sucking it. Licking the tip of his finger as though it were his cock, and making it known that you were thinking of him while you licked, and sucked, and licked and sucked.

"Thinking about my cock aren't you?" Jaemin smiles, a grin that looked borderline evil as if he had a plan ready in the back of his mind. "Suck more, baby. Take it in, take what I give you... this isn't even half of what you'll get, angel." He says, pushing his thumb in deeper.

"Want me to add another finger, baby?" As though they had a mind of their own, your hands move to grab a hold of his wrists.

When you pull away, it isn't to breathe but to lick at his other fingers. Specifically the ones you knew he loved to finger you with.

Jaemin smirks at this when he realises.

"Good girl."

His free hand kneads your ass, squeezing, slapping and occasionally jiggling when he can't have enough of it.

"That's enough baby," Jaemin pulls his fingers out of your mouth, leaning forward to kiss you deeply as his wet fingers slip down your skirt. His hands reach down to cup your cunt, and when he does you flinch a little.

Jaemin pouts as his thumb plays with your clit.

"Sensitive, huh?" He mocks, carefully gathering your slick as he prods with your sensitive point. You can't help but whimper at the feel of his fingers slowly entering you. "That's it. Gotta get you ready for my cock, sweetheart. You want it, don't you?" He says, condescendingly sweet that it makes you want to curse.

Jaemin's bottom lip juts out, "Don't tell me you changed your mind, honey." He coos once again, a habit he's gotten ever since he first made love to you and noticed how eager you got with dirty talk.

"That's not fair," While he continues to form coherent sentences, his fingers move skilfully inside of you. "You can't just rile me up then change your mind. Been wanting to feel your warmth around me all day, angel. It's not just you, trust me."

His fingers moving in a beckoning direction, making you grind your hips harder against him but Jaemin knows you well, and he knows how to tease you.

You have your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging on to him and you release soft moans near his ears that sound like music. What opera was for musicians, your moans were to his ears. He pulls your hand wear from his neck to place on his clothed cock.

Your eyes snap open when you feel him.

"Yeah?" Jaemin rests his forehead against yours, grinning lazily when he sees you glance down at his cock, knowing how his fingers were making you feel this good, you needed the real deal— soon.

"Look at how hard you make me baby, make me feel so good even when you're just making pretty noises." He lets you unzip his pants, letting out a shaky breath when your hands slip under his boxers. "You're such a good girl, angel. What'd I do to deserve you."

"It's only right to make you feel good, Sir." You whisper into his ears and rather than see, you feel him tense up.

As if you had flicked a switch, Jaemin's fingers slip out of your hole, and back into your mouth.

"Suck."

Your eyes are blown wide open, not expecting the sudden change in Jaemin's demeanour or the way his pupils have darkened as they stare back into your doe eyes.

As if realising how stern he sounds, Jaemin relaxed his tense shoulders but slightly raises his brow.

"Suck, baby. Don't make me repeat it."

Politely, you kitty lick his fingers, tasting your juice as he continue to praise you through your movements.

"That's right... Just like that angel." He praises, leaning forward to press a delicate kiss to your cheek when his hips suddenly raise.

You gasp at the contact and cling back onto him, but Jaemin has his hips raised in the air for a while and when you feel his tug his pants down, you realise what he's doing and raise your lower body off his temporarily to make it easier for him.

Once he's settled back in his seat, your hands instantly cup his balls, leaning forward you place a light feathered kiss onto his lips, smiling when he pulls you in for a much longer, deeper kiss that has you moaning in his mouth.

You move your hand up to the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over the tip when he hisses.

"Don't tease, princess."

"Why?" You frown, and it takes everything in Jaemin not to turn you around and push you against the steering wheel until he's fucking up into you.

"I won't last, and I want to at least feel you around me." He breathes, saying it in one exhale that makes you feel exhilarated knowing you made him feel this way. "You wanna put it in for me, baby? Wanna be a polite girl and give Daddy what he wants?"

"Daddy needs me?" You smile, eagerly slipping his cock right into you where you need him.

"So much, sweetheart."

You slowly bottom out for him, and notice Jaemin biting his lip, trying to not make a sound with the way his arms lift to grab a hold of the handle above you. You hiss a little when you're completely sat on his lap, leaning into him so you can feel him against you.

You trace your lips up against his ear and lightly peck his earring. Then, you say, "Don't hold back Daddy. I wanna know how good I make you feel."

Jaemin groans and fights the urge to throw his head back against the car seat. Instead, he lowers his seat and holds you tightly against him, having his hips pistol his cock in and out of you as if his life depended on it.

"Dear fucking God, Y/N. I fucking love your pussy so much." He groans, this time he doesn't bother to hold back while you're holding on to him for dear life, moaning prettily for him to hear how good he's fucking into you.

"Feel how hard I am baby? Feel how good you're making Daddy feel? God, I can't believe you went the whole day without telling me how wet you were. You're fucking drenched, princess." He groans when he feels you squeeze around him.

"A-Ah!" You whine, tugging at the roots of his hair as you arch your back when Jaemin hits a spot that makes your knees tremble in its bent position. "Daddy!"

"I know," Jaemin huffs, his pace never faltering the harder he thrusts and deeper he groans. "Daddy's making you feel good, isn't he baby? You like how Daddy's cock fills you up?"

Eagerly you start to nod your head, but that isn't enough for Jaemin. He brings one hand up to your throat, gently caressing it while applying light pressure to the sides.

"Words, angel. Need your words so I know I'm not hurting you."

"Yes!" You shout, making Jaemin smirk as he fucks up into you. The only sounds in the car were your moans, his occasionally grunts and the lovely, oh most beautiful sound of skin slapping against each other. It made Jaemin go crazy knowing a simple noise could make him want to fuck you forever.

"Hear that baby?" Slap. His hand on your ass, "That's us baby. That's our fucking music coming together." He sits up to lick the tears that are falling down your cheeks, then groans in your ear. "Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? My little princess wanted this big cock to ruin her didn't she?"

You nod, unable to form proper sentences.

All Jaemin hears from you are your pretty moans and his favourite word from your lips.

"Harder, Daddy!"

You don't have to say it again for Jaemin to speed up his thrusts. Your boyfriend wasn't a gym buff when you met him, but that was a year ago and now he was insanely toned with the way his arms were now firm, his abs were heaven when you'd lick your way down to his pretty manhood.

And despite how rough he was thrusting into you, Jaemin had the skill of holding you so gently and kissing you so tenderly but firmly that you couldn't help but go limp in his arms.

"Daddy!" You yell, catching Jaemin by surprise. He was so caught up in the way your cunt sucked in his cock that your voice suddenly pulled him out of it.

"Gonna cum...! Jaemin, I'm close," You whine, clawing at his shirt to pull him closer as if he hadn't already been hugging you tight.

Something you did when you were close, was kiss Jaemin. And he had come to love it a lot, especially when you wouldn't want to stop even after you were done.

"Let it all go baby," Jaemin rubs his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and moving in circular motions to help you. "Let me hear your moans angel, let me know. Who's doing this to you?"

"Daddy! Ha.. Jaemin!" You scream out the loudest Jaemin's ever heard you, and pull him into you to land a kiss on his lips, and Jaemin almost bursts on the spot.

It's messy, it's sloppy and there's a lot of tongue, but it's the way you both don't care anymore that Jaemin finds himself weak for. His hands pull you roughly against him, hips colliding with yours as he lets out a few cursed words.

"So fucking close baby, Daddy's gotta cum." Jaemin warns, giving you a sign to tell him where to cum. Otherwise he's sure he won't let go and he won't slip out.

"Inside."

You're clinging harder onto his shirt, pulling his lips dangerously close to yours that you feel his breath on your lips.

As if knowing Jaemin was gonna pull out, you hook your legs around his body to confirm your words.

"Baby no—" Jaemin shuts his eyes, wincing when he knows he can't hold it in any longer. "Princess, tell me where to cum or I'll burst. Please baby, help Daddy."

"Inside Daddy," You repeat, this time whispering into his ear. "That's my one wish, please? I'm on the pill. Got it jsut last week so you could spill your seed inside of me." You lick his lips to rile him up more, knowing from the look on his face alone, he was gonna do it.

"Wanna carry you inside of me wherever I go."

"Fuck— you're dangerous, Y/N."

You smile at this, shaking your head as you grind your hips one more time to help him. Your cunt was sensitive but you could hold out.

"Cum, Daddy."

"Such a good. Fucking. Girl." Jaemin thrusts three more times before finally, he spills inside of you and the both of you relax your bodies against each other.

Jaemin doesn't pull out immediately, and you don't rush to either. You let him stay inside of you until he gets soft. In the meantime, you both catch your breath.

You rest your head on his shoulder, leaving a trail of random kisses on his neck while he caresses the top of your head.

#jaemin imagines #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin oneshot #na jaemin smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin scenarios #na jaemin dilf #jaemin dilf smut

[hirukochan]

I feel cheeky sending another ask but I lived the interrogation one so much so just 3 so words: snape sex pollen. Perhaps a professor x professor?

(Ps: is their a place that I can support your writing!!!)

Snape x Professor sex pollen coming right up 🫡

Writing is one of my many beloved hobbies; liking, reblogging, giving kudos or commenting is all the support I need! Thank you very much for asking though!

Blue Speckled Mushrooms

(Severus Snape x fem!Professor oneshot)

Words: 2572

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen :D - mutual dub-con, some biting, rough smut

Summary: In your continuing efforts to catch the grumpy Potion Master's attention you follow him into the Forbidden Forest - a mistake of perhaps destiny unfolding?

This is play post-war, Sev survives - not that it matters much to the 'plot'

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

It could have been so easy. Gather these blasted Moon Cornflowers and Speckled Blue Mushrooms and return to the castle. It’s all he asks for. Moon Cornflowers and Speckled  Blue Mushrooms to finish the brew currently under stasis in his office. Two plants. Just a few of each. They couldn’t be preserved through either magic or other means and had to be harvested within three hours of being used in a potion and only during a full moon. 

Now usually this is no problem for an accomplished potion master such as Severus Snape. A quick trip to the forest and done. He knows the half-forgotten paths, the safe routes. Knows how to avoid the Centaurs and other nastier beasts that live in the Forbidden Forest.

He does not know how to avoid her.

Irritating, stupid girl.

She took over the History of Magic position earlier that year, one of Snape’s first students he taught after becoming a professor himself at merely twenty-one. A seventh year at the time who already stared at him in the library back when he was a student. 

She just wouldn’t leave him alone!

“Midnight stroll?” She asks with that irritating smile on her stupid pretty face and follows him into the forest.

“What do you want?!” He growls at her. She keeps trying to make conversation with him, keeps sitting next to him during meals or in the staff room, talking. Always talking. Talking talking talking. 

How can a single person be this annoying?

She is still talking. Jesus fucking christ!

“So anyway…what are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that is of any concern to you.”

“Just curious, is all.” She replies. Stupid girl. And she is still following him!

You have no idea what to do anymore. You’ve tried everything. You’ve tried catching his attention by talking to him, leaving the top button of your blouse undone, batting your lashes at him like a teen on a love potion, you’ve searched his company, flirted like your stupid life depends on it and the cranky bastard doesn’t even recognise it! 

You run to catch up with his long strides, wrapping your cloak around yourself to shield yourself from the cold night air.

You were about to go to bed, just finishing up your rounds through the castle on the lookout for students out of bed when you saw his billowing cloak sweep out of the entrance door. You of course followed him. Curious as to what he was going to do outside but also secretly hoping today’s the day he’ll finally notice your intentions.

Perhaps you have to be less subtle. You thought men like to be subtly seduced but Snape is not like any man you’ve known! Maybe he doesn’t like playing cat and mouse, doesn’t enjoy the chase. 

You’ll be blunt! Yes, if a stroll through the forest at midnight doesn’t do the trick you’ll gather what little courage you have and just make the first step yourself. You’re an independent woman! You don’t need to wait around for Snape to realise you’re interested in him and make the first step.

“Are you gathering ingredients of sorts?” You ask and walk quicker to keep up, pressing your arm against his by walking closer to him. He glares at you.

“Obviously.” He snarls and looks forward again.

“Cool. cool cool cool….um…which ones?”

He audibly grumbles.

“Sorry, I couldn’t understand you.” You smile. He is making it very hard to be attracted to him. Grumbly bastard. Prickly idiot. Why can’t he just fuck you? Shove you into a broom closet and let out his frustrations if you’re so bloody annoying to be around! Why can’t you fall head over heels for someone normal?

Because normal is boring.

Your eyes glide over his sharp jaw, every muscle tensed, about ready to snap, beneath his pale skin that shines in the moonlight.

“I said, you were a daft, simple-minded girl when I had the misfortune of attempting to teach you potions - I very much doubt you’d understand any more now than you did seventeen years ago!”

His venom cuts deep. You stumble backwards. You thought he was clumsy when it comes to socialising, that he perhaps didn’t understand your intentions, not that he loathes you.

“Oh…” You murmur. “Um…okay…” don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. “Sorry for bothering you.” You turn on your heels and run. He calls after you but you ignore it, disappearing between the trees into the undergrowth, away from Snape because you are about to cry your eyes out like the stupid little girl he sees in you and you are not about to embarrass yourself any further than you already have! You just want to go back to your quarters.

Stupid girl! Insufferable, annoying, bothersome, foolish girl!

Snape runs after her. He considered leaving her to her own fate and capabilities and collect his ingredients but he had been cursed with a conscience. A nasty, biting thing demanding he not let her run to her death in an Acromantula den.

He’ll tear her a new one when he catches up to her! The sheer idiocy! Running into the Forbidden Forest like that! What possessed her.

“Stop running!” He snarls, draws his wand and sends a non-verbal Stupor at her. She stumbles and falls face-first into the flower field spreading over the clearing they had entered during their chase. Snape lifts his spell.

You spin around, furious. How fucking dare he? Isn’t it enough to insult you? Does he have to embarrass you by forcing you to bear your pathetic little hurt feelings to him?

He stands at the other end of the clearing, pale blue flowers reaching to his calves, emitting a gentle glow. He looks furious. The light of the full moon illuminates him from the back, deepening his already sharp features, cloaking his face and body in menacing shadows.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He snarls and points towards the direction you were running in. “Do you want to be eaten by enormous spiders?”

“Like you give a damn!” You shout and pick yourself up off the ground. Swiftly you brush loose dirt and a few pedals off your robes and out of your hair. The motherfucker stunned you!

“I might be a cold son of a bitch but I am not letting a colleague run to her death - no matter how annoying said colleague is. The way back to the castle is-” A wind picks up. His cloak flutters behind him, the fabric whispering with the motion. Pedals are ripped from the flowers.

His eyes widen.

You tilt your head to the side, brows pulled together. “Severus?”

“Stay where you are!” He hisses, sending droplets of spit flying. You look around, confused, searching the dark rows of trees for some beastly critter about to attack but you find none. Snape’s eyes are pinned to yours. His chest is heaving, his breath seems shallow. You take a step forward to which Snape instantly backs away, keeping his wand pointed at- you?

“What’s going on?”

“To the castle! Go back to the castle!”

“I am not your student! You can’t give me orders! And to think I’ve been trying to go on a date with you for months!”

“You have to go back to the castle now or- what?” His wand hand sinks a little. A crease forms between his brows. You’ve never seen Severus so puzzled.

“Year really…” You mutter. “Back in school too-”

“I am not in the mood for jokes or pranks.”

“It’s not!” You take another step forward. Severus’ back hits a tree. The wind picks up. A sweet scent reaches your nose, infiltrates your mind, swirls around your brain like vapours of a potion-

Weren’t you cold?

You were! Yes, you were- but it’s so hot- when did it get so hot?

“Stop that!” Snape snarls again.

“Stop what?” You roll your eyes and pause- your cloak lies in the flower field three steps away from you. You have unbuttoned your robes, revealing the white blouse and dark trousers underneath- when-?

“Go. back.” He has his jaw clenched, teeth pressed together. His nostrils flare, his eyes flick down to your chest and he seems to struggle to force them back up.

“Are you hot too?” Your fingers pry open the buttons of your blouse without you even noticing or you’re just not thinking about it…

“Go-”

“What’s happening?”

“Pollen-”

“What?”

“Where you shit in Herbology too?!” He snaps and you glare at him about ready to-

Your blouse slips off your shoulders and falls to the ground. “Stop- you don’t want this-”

“What? What is this?”

“A rare flower.” His voice sounds pressed, as though he’s struggling to speak, to breathe, to exist. He has his back moulded to the tree, clutching at the bark with his hands, straining to keep his eyes on your face.

The button on your trousers is open.

“The pollens they emit to the air to spread and form these dense fields- they have a unique effect on humans-”

“Which effect?”

“Can’t you tell, stupid girl?”

Your trousers push past your hips.

“You should be running from me, not stripping for me.” His eyes graze over your body, standing in front of him in only your underwear, devouring the sight. His eyes trace along the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake…Heat rushes to your core.

“Sex pollen-” You gasp, noticing you’re standing a mere arm's length away from him now.

“The rather crude colloquial name - yes.”

“Severus- what-”

“Too late, stupid girl.” He snarls and the next moment he’s on you, pouncing at you like a wild beast. His woodsy, herbal scent flows around you, mixing with the sweet smell of the damned flower. His hands grip your arms roughly, blunt nails dig into your flesh. Severus swirls you around and pushes you against the tree. Bark scratches against your skin, stabbing into it but you don’t even notice.

It’s like a trance has taken over your mind and only one thing matters. 

He.

Severus’ mouth latches onto your throat. A million tiny explosions rush over your skin where he touches you and you moan, a feral sound ripped harshly from your throat, echoing over the empty clearing. Severus growls in response, even more feral, even less human. His teeth scrape over your throat. His hands roam over your body, squeezing your breasts, your thighs. Then he tears at his own clothes, shedding layer after layer with a quickness and urgency that has your head spinning.

“Stupid girl.” He repeats and kisses up to your jaw, your cheek. Heated, open-mouth kisses that leave your skin marked by his saliva. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, searching for something to hold onto, something to pull you back into reality, your head spinning, skin exploding, core hurting. You’re so aroused, so need it fucking hurts.

“Severus-” You moan. His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around him on their own accord.

“You should have run when you still had the chance.” He snarls against your lips, his breath brushes over your skin. “You’ll regret this.”

“Shut up and fuck me, you prick!”

Your lips meet in a violent clash of teeth and tongue. You’re pretty sure he bites you or perhaps you bite him. None of it matters anymore when you feel his prick against your soaked entrance. You’ve never been so wet- never so wound up- so desperate for sex-

You cry out when he enters you, a forceful thrust that buries him to the hilt in your twitching channel. He is big. Too big under different circumstances perhaps. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pounds into you, spearing you open, using his grip on your waist to bounce you on his cock in sync with each of his thrusts.

You cling to his shoulders, your nails drawing blood, fingertips running over old scars, exploring the surprisingly defined muscles of his lean stature.

Your breasts bounce, rubbing against his naked chest, his lips lay claim to yours, your face, your neck, your chest.

He stumbles, his left side giving in and you tumble to the ground. You’ve seen that happen before. The venom of you-know-who’s snake has left him with some permanent damage, not only the huge scar on his neck.

You don’t care.

You push him down to the ground, your hands on his chest and move your hips, lifting them, letting them slam back down, riding him. You throw your head back, your eyes closed, lips parted as his cock drags along your inner walls with delicious friction.

“So- so full-” You moan. Your breasts sway. Severus catches them, squeezing them with such pure delight on his usually reserved face. He twists your nipples between his fingers, revelling in the noises he coaxes from you.

“You could have had this so much sooner, idiot.” You hiss and grind down against him before lifting your hips up once again.

“Wha-?” His puzzled expression is almost cute.

“I’ve been trying to get you to ask me out for months!” As though to reinforce your discontent with his lack of romantic interest you pick up your pace. His head drops back into the flowers. The pale blue petals glow in his inky black hair.

“How was I supposed to know?” He asks, bucking up to meet your movement.

“I was flirting!”

“I thought you were acting especially stupid for some reason.”

“Arsehole!” You dig your nails into his chest but Severus seems to like that. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips part, pleasure drawn into every wrinkle of his face.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“I’d have called you stupid. Perhaps laughed at you. Slip poison in your tea.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” 

Quicker than you can follow his movements you’re underneath him and your legs on his shoulders. Your head is still spinning when Severus starts pounding into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the clearing, accompanied by your and Severus' animalistic, feral sounds of pleasure.

“I don’t-” You moan and dig your fingers into the dry soil underneath you.

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to say me neither.”

“I do whatever the fuck I want, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

His balls slap against your arse. His hand drops between your bodies, his fingers find your clit, run over it once- twice-

You see stars. Dots of light exploding all over your field of vision and pulling you into darkness, bringing the complex system keeping your body alive and moving to an abrupt stop. Your lungs refuse to fill with air, your brain crashes, your limbs tense, your whole body forced into a contortion made of carnal desire and the world-ending pleasure Severus Snape brings you.

You twitch. Then you inhale sharply, filling your lungs with air, shuddering, whimpering under Severus who spills inside you with an ear-splitting grunt and then slumps down above you. On top of you. Your legs found the ground somehow. His cock still inside you, throbbing, slowly softening, you lay in the dirt like a starfish, feeling dizzy, overwhelmed and confused.

“Friday.” Severus murmurs, his lips brushing over your cheek as he speaks. “Dinner. Be ready on time or I’ll leave without you.”

“Mh?” 

“You really are dense." He grumbles. "Your date, stupid girl. Friday.”

#snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape x you #Severus snape x you #severus snape x professor!reader #severus snape smut #snape fandom #request #dividers by cafekitsune #sex pollen

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for an anon; a fake cryptid and a real romantic.

“I think I’m gonna try making him a ruby and do that in a trilliant cut,” Superboy says decisively, which isn’t necessarily much progress towards “normal” friend-making but again, Clark doesn’t want to discourage either a hobby or a creative outlet for the kid. Or just literally anything that isn’t about being a superhero, even if the trilliant cut resembling the S-shield and making friends with a vigilante are only sort of “not about being a superhero”. 

Look, the kid’s six months old and was educated by ethically bankrupt scientists and absolutely exhausted grad student interns, absolutely none of whom had either normal childhoods or an interest in instilling any semblance of “normal” in their cloned Superman’s head. Clark’s not going to be picky here, he’s just gonna meet him where he’s at and go from there. 

Superboy has some unfortunate difficulties understanding the difference between celebrity attention versus genuine admiration and things like that, and also an unfortunate tendency towards causing a lot of unnecessary property damage and jumping to conclusions and temper issues, but he tries, and he clearly does think about things. There’s just a lot to figure out in the world, and he’s had to do it in speed-run mode and while being an active superhero. 

Really, Clark thinks the kid’s doing a lot better as a superhero than he would’ve done at his “age”, and he’d actually been that “age”. Superboy is frankly just about the best-case scenario that could’ve come out of a situation like Cadmus and also mercifully only seems to be minimally traumatized by the sorry excuse for a “childhood” he was provided, so . . .

“That sounds nice,” Clark says, smiling at him. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job with it.” 

“I’m gonna do a good job with it if it fucking kills me,” Superboy says, looking determined, which seems like a lot of intensity to put into making a gift for a friend, but again: six months old and educated by ethically bankrupt scientists. Clark is going to stick with the “meeting him where he’s at” approach. 

“Just do your best to start, maybe,” he says wryly, reaching over to pat the kid’s shoulder. Superboy grins at him, his expression turning pleased. 

“I will!” he says. “Wanna see some of the test ones?” 

“Sure,” Clark says, figuring Superboy will just–

Nope, no, Superboy just immediately stuck both hands into his jacket pockets and came up with two big fistfuls of a good dozen high-quality diamonds done in trilliant cuts. Very large diamonds. 

Heavens to Betsy, Clark thinks a little faintly. That is . . . that is so many diamonds for Superboy to just have in his pockets. They weren’t even zipped shut! They weren’t even buttoned! 

Superboy lays his series of diamonds all out in neat little rows on the ledge, because there are enough of them to require multiple rows, and then reaches back into his pockets for a few more, because of course there are more. Clark continues to feel vaguely faint and has absolutely no idea how to point out how much money this is. Even at lab diamond rates, this is so much money. Just–so much. 

At this point in his life Clark has seen entire planets made of diamond, mind, but he still grew up in smalltown Kansas as a farm kid, so there’s something about seeing quite this many virtually flawless ones just laid out on a Metropolis rooftop the same way he would’ve shown off his POG collection to his friends as a kid. Even the damn cuts are just shy of perfect. 

Well, at least Superboy’s enjoying his first hobby, he supposes. But also, Jesus H. Christ.

“They look good, kid,” Clark says, smiling at him encouragingly. No need to take the wind out of his sails, obviously. Though seeing them now, it does occur to him to wonder–“Where did you get the tools?” 

They must be good ones, because honestly he really wasn’t expecting results this good–or even half this good–from a six month-old teenager. Superboy could definitely ruin De Beers’s day with those.

Or their industry, again. 

. . . well, it is De Beers, so . . . 

“Oh, I don’t have any,” Superboy says, shaking his head. “I just use my TTK.” 

Clark . . . pauses, for a moment. 

Clark pauses for a long moment. 

“Tactile telekinesis can cut diamond?” he asks carefully. “This precisely?” 

“Yeah!” Superboy beams proudly at him. “Cool, right?” 

Clark looks very, very closely at the diamonds. The cuts on them are practically atom-sharp. 

Alright then, he thinks to himself even more carefully.

#anonymous #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic #long post

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, extreme inaccuracies on hospitals and the entire birthing process but this is fiction so we move. WC: 4.7k

…

Bradley spins the padlock, humming as he does, twisting the lock and pulling open his locker. That run was awful, his instructor has been breathing down his back and Bradley had fucked up two consecutive manoeuvres. He’s sweaty, and tired.

It’s nice out, though, and you’ve been so couped up recently that it’s driving you crazy. If he’s done early enough he could take you out. It’s the middle of summer, there are tons of properties not far that host drive-ins.

You’d probably like that.

He reaches for his bag first. Towel, clothes, soap — the necessities. Under that, is his phone, which he picks up absentmindedly, without checking. Immediately, it starts to buzz in his hand. He turns it over as he walks towards the showers, seeing an unknown number flash up on the screen.

Instinct tells him to answer. He taps the button and cautiously brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“There you are, you son of a bitch!”

Bradley blinks, frowning slightly. His stomach drops.

“Jake?”

“No, no! Don’t you dare fucking speak, where the hell are you?” Jake rants on the other end of the line. Bradley’s brows furrow as he plugs a finger into his ear to try to hear. He knows for a fact that Jake gets one call a week, and he hasn’t ever wasted that call on speaking to Bradley.

“What? — I’m at work, what’s going on?” About fifteen other pilots just piled into this room behind him, it’s hard to hear, even with the way your brother is screaming.

“My baby sister’s about to have your kid in your dumbass uncle’s car is what’s going on! — I’m so serious about this, Bradley, if you fucking let her down today, I will kill you — I promise you that I will actually—“

“Uncle? Jake, slow down, I’m grabbing my keys. Where the fuck is she?” Bradley turns on his heel and shoves his way back through the steam-filled locker room, pressing the phone closer to try to hear. It has been hours since he was able to check his phone and the thought makes his throat tight. He can’t think of how many times you would have tried to reach him, how scared you must be.

It’s the entire reason you’re here, away from everything you have ever known; so that he could be there for you. And he isn’t. He might have missed it. He could have let you down all over again.

“She’s on her way to Sacred Heart Hospital! Do you know how many fucking times she tried to call you?” Before Jake even gets to finish his second sentence, Bradley has started running, hoping that he doesn’t turn a corner and knock hot coffee into someone important.

Jake continues to rant on the other end of the line but Bradley’s far from even listening. All he can think of now is when he woke up the night after halloween and saw you laying in his bed, wrapped in his jersey. You had looked so comfortable that he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

On his run that morning, he had thought about it. If he had woken you. Asked you for your number, asked you on a date. He had thought about the way you had joked the night before and the instant connection. But then he came home and realized who you were. It was all downhill from there with the way he had treated you.

He should have just woken you that morning, asked you if you would go to dinner with him. There are so many things he would do differently now. He swallows as he climbs into the driver’s side of his truck and wraps a hand around the wheel just to notice how much he’s trembling now.

“Are you fucking listening to me?”

Bradley swallows, fumbling to get the key into the ignition and balance his phone between his ear and his cheek. “Look, Jake… I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I can.”

Jake starts to protest, but Bradley hangs up anyway. His heartbeat thuds in his ears as he backs out of the parking spot. August third. It hasn’t ever been important before, it will be every day for the rest of his life. It’s his son’s birthday.

Maverick winces at your bedside. He has been told by nurses six times now to just sit, that it could be a while before a doctor can see you. But, he won’t. He has been standing to the right side of your bed for over an hour now. He has been acting on autopilot, he barely even knows how he got you here. It’s the one thing that has kept him alive in his career so far, probably. Instinct.

He watches as you double forwards, gritting your teeth, whimpering in pain.

Bradley doesn’t have anybody, Maverick never had anybody. You’ve got two parents out there somewhere who are willing to let you go through this alone. He swallows softly at the thought and lifts his hand, brushing it tenderly over your head as he leans closer.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be just fine.” He says quietly. Your hand darts out and your fingers link between his, squeezing hard at his shaking hand. As much as he’s certain that your grip is going to bruise, he just exhales slowly and smooths his thumb over the back of your hand.

He didn’t even know your name this morning.

“Alright, Miss Seresin,” The snap of a surgical glove alerts the both of you, looking up quickly to see the smiling woman in the colourful scrubs entering the room. “My name is Lucy, I’m just here to do a quick check on how things are progressing. How does that sound?”

Still gritting your teeth, you’re too busy holding your breath and waiting for the pain to subside to answer her. Maverick makes a pained sound at your side, exhaling deeply as you finally let go of his hand.

“Mhm.” You manage out.

Lucy offers you a sympathetic smile as she pulls up a stool at the end of the bed. Maverick turns his attention towards the ceiling as she settles between your legs. You make a soft sound, closing your eyes. You wish that your mom was here holding your hand, rather than Bradley’s last standing family member.

“Okay, you’re still at six centimeters,” Lucy hums. You drop your head back against the pillow and groan in frustration. You’ve been at six centimeters for an hour and a half. Maverick squeezes your hand softly as Lucy grabs your chart from the end of the bed. “How would you rate your pain at the moment?”

“I don’t know. Does it get worse than this?” Your voice trembles as you speak. After sobbing hysterically into both Bradley’s voicemail and to Jake’s commander, begging him to put Jake on the phone, you’ve been doing your best not to cry again. It seems to make Maverick uncomfortable.

“Can you give her anything? — An epidural, or whatever?” Maverick presses.

Lucy presses her lips into a line as she pushes herself to her feet and sets the chart back into its place. She gives a small shake of her head. If she knew anything about Pete Mitchell, she would know that ‘no’ isn’t a word he often agrees with.

“Why not?” He urges, brows knitting together as he drops your hand and straightens up. You glance between him and her.

She sighs softly. “With pregnancies that have complications, we tend to advise against epidural. It could put more strain on his heart, we would have to monitor very closely.”

“So monitor it closely. If you’re so worried, why has she been sitting here for an hour on her own?” Maverick challenges her. Lucy looks towards you and wrings her hands together.

“Pete, stop.” You breathe out.

“I can get the doctor to discuss it with you. It’s still an option at this point, but—“

“I don’t want it.” Your answer is instant. It’s the most confident you’ve sounded all day. Maverick’s head whips around and for the first time, you catch sight of Bradley in his eyes. It’s not a genetic thing, just more of a temperament. All of those hours spent together, Bradley’s quizzical, developing mind. He’s been copying those mannerisms subconsciously since he was in the first grade.

“But—“

“I don’t want it. We’ll be just fine without it.” You decide calmly, smoothing your palms over your swollen stomach for one of the last times. Pete opens his mouth at your side, he almost argues with you, but he stops himself. This isn’t his kid, or even his family — Bradley has made that clear. So, pressing his lips together, he just nods.

Bradley can feel all of the eyes on him. Maybe it’s because he’s in uniform, maybe it’s because he is walking so fast that when he collided with a doctor two minutes ago, he knocked the poor guy straight on his ass and just kept walking. His eyes widen as he spots the reception desk finally.

“Seresin. My, uh — my girlfriend is having a baby. Her last name is Seresin, she should be here.” Bradley breathes out. The nurse looks up at him and smiles. She sees a lot of stressed out, first time dads. This isn’t unusual.

“Alright. What’s your name, honey?” She smiles.

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, I’ll come get you as soon as she says it’s okay. Why don’t you get some water, just take a breath?” She reaches out and pats the hand that he has resting on top of the counter. Bradley swallows, managing to give her a stiff nod.

She’s gone for less than two minutes, but Bradley’s pounding heart just makes it feel like it’s an eternity. She can see it on his face when she walks back towards him that he’s terrified. So, she just offers him a smile and nods for him to follow her.

At first, Bradley doesn’t even notice that there’s anyone else in the room. All he sees is you, sitting up in the bed, your hair pulled back and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rushes towards you. You whimper as he wraps you in his arms, grabbing onto him tightly. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Jake got through to me, I got here as soon as I could.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t make it in time.” You whisper into his chest. Bradley turns his head and kisses your temple, nodding. He opens his mouth to agree, and then takes notice of who is standing at the other side of your bed. His uncle. He hadn’t taken much notice of what Jake had said on the phone.

He stands up straight and stares, silent for a second. Maverick has learned by now to just keep his mouth shut.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my family.”

“Bradley, don’t. He got me here, he stayed with me.” You frown up at him. Bradley just stares over you, looking at the man who has let him down again and again for as long as they have known each other.

Maverick takes a slow step back, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

“No, Mav—“

“I don’t want him here. He doesn’t need to be anywhere near—“

“I want him here.” You answer back, scowling up at your boyfriend. Of all the stupid arguments that the two of you have had, Bradley knows better than to pick a fight with someone who is in active labour.

Even so, Maverick has spent more than two decades going against Bradley’s wishes. Making him eat his vegetables, refusing to let him drop out of little league, almost ruining his career. He needs to give his nephew some leeway here, if this is going to work.

“I could go to your place. Get you some things, give you two a minute. I’ll come back, sit in the waiting room. If you want me, I’ll be right outside.”

“No.” Bradley deadpans. You shoot him a look, then turn to offer Pete a small smile.

“Can I text you a list? I have it all written on my phone.”

Maverick nods. He still has your keys from earlier, and honestly, he’s grateful to be out from Bradley’s glare once he leaves the room. You’re grateful that you aren’t going to have the two of them fighting while you’re trying to do this.

Bradley’s scowl fades once he’s certain that Maverick is far enough away. He turns around and perches on the side of your bed, draping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“How are you feeling? — Did they give you anything for the pain, yet?” He asks softly, smoothing his free hand tenderly over your stomach. You scrunch your nose slightly and turn to frown at him.

“No — Bradley, you smell disgusting.”

He stares back at you, blinking slowly. “Honey, I ran a red light to get here. Showering wasn’t my top priority.”

“No, I know, but — could you maybe put your arm down?”

His mouth twitches, giving an amused shake of his head as he unwraps his arm from around you. He entwines his fingers with yours instead, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “What do you mean they haven’t given you anything? — Do you want me to talk to someone?”

“No, no. I can’t have an epidural, it would put him at risk. I’m going to do it without.” You’re quiet as you explain it, just waiting for Bradley to freak out like Maverick had wanted to. He’s quiet for a minute. You brace yourself.

He strokes his thumb softly along the fabric of the hospital gown. It takes him a minute to finally lift his head and look you in the eye. He exhales slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“You couldn’t change my mind if you tr— ah.” You wince, sitting bolt upright and holding your breath. Bradley barely even notices you squeezing his hand. He feels sick, watching the way your entire body goes rigid with the pain. He has read that this can take like eight hours the first time, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sit through eight hours of watching you suffer like this.

That being said, there’s nothing he can do but be here. An hour later, he’s already on the verge of tearing his hair out as silent tears roll down your cheeks while you sip on water. He has suggested the epidural twice more since your first conversation, you’ve refused it twice.

The contractions are more regular now. You’re trying to keep him calm, knowing that he’s freaking out even more than you are, but they’re close enough together now that you haven’t spoken in a while. You knew this was going to hurt, but the last ten minutes have been agony.

“Okay, Miss Seresin, just here for another quick check.” Lucy strolls back into the room smiling again, shooting a quick look to the new man standing at your bedside. Bradley glances between you and her, fighting to ask her where the hell she has been. She sits between your legs once more. You sigh in discomfort. The thing about not having an epidural — you can feel everything. “Oh.”

Bradley looks at her. “Oh?”

“She, uh — We’re just about there. That was fast, you’re sure this is your first?” Her smile has faded for the first time. You stare at her face. She looks scared. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“She’d notice if it wasn’t, wouldn’t she?” Bradley bites. You swing your arm out and smack him in the stomach. Lucy stands up quickly.

“I’m going to grab the doctor.”

You’re quiet as she hurries off, turning your head and looking up at Bradley. He watches your lip tremble and reaches out instinctively, stroking gently at your cheek. He wipes a salty tear from your skin.

“She looked worried.” You whisper to him.

He leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your mouth as he squeezes your hand. “You’ve got this. You’re going to be just fine. This whole time, you’ve been so strong. Just a little longer.”

Squeezing his hand, you lean closer and rest your face against his arm.

“I’m so fucking scared.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, to either one of you.” Bradley kisses the top of your head, his eyes sting. He closes them and inhales the familiar scent of your hair. There’s no way in hell he’s going to cry in front of you. “Just a little longer and he’s going to be here, this is all going to be worth it.”

He doesn’t know that for sure, there’s no way that he can, but it’s enough for you to believe it. Besides, there isn’t a lot of time to be caught up in the fear. Once pushing starts, there’s only one thing on your mind and that’s getting this over and done with.

Bradley isn’t sure what he was expecting labour to be like, but he wasn’t expecting so many people. There are six people in this room and Bradley isn’t sure exactly what any of them are here for specifically. His main focus is you.

Each time you push, your body goes tense, you grit your teeth and you hold your breath. He’s sure that you’re going to pass out any minute now.

“Okay, another big one. You’re doing great.” The doctor instructs. Bradley shoots him a furious look. A nurse at your side is quick to rub your shoulder and tell you to breathe. He leans in close and kisses the top of your head. Once again, you grit your teeth and push hard. Bradley feels like he can’t breathe himself.

This time, you don’t hold your breath. Instead, it’s all forced out of your lungs at once as you scream out, digging your nails into Bradley’s palm, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks. The second that you’re done screaming, there’s no getting your breath back. You inhale too fast and sob back out an exhale. Again and again as the nurse at your side tells you to slow down.

“Alright, and again.” The doctor sighs.

Your eyes flicker to him, and Bradley snaps. He can’t stand the pain in your expression, and he can’t stand that doctor’s fucking tone. “Again? — She needs a break. She can’t go again.”

The abundantly calm older lady between your legs simply lifts her head and looks up at him through her glasses. She has been delivering babies longer than either one of you has been alive. “Son, there’s no time for a break right now. This baby’s coming. Rather than yelling at me, focus on her.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks as he settles in closer and brings your knuckles up to rest against his lips. He winces, blinking back tears as you have to go through another tough push. Your head falls back against the pillows in a moment of brief respite.

He studies your face for a second. Up until this exact moment in time, as he’s wiping tears from your cheeks with his free hand, Bradley had seen the two of you maybe having another kid. Right now, he’s certain that he’ll never put you through any of this again.

“You must hate me right now.” He whispers, giving a soft shake of his head. Honestly, he doesn’t really expect you to answer. He barely expects you to hear him. He definitely doesn’t expect you to laugh.

Your face is hot, and blotchy with tears. Your entire body is exhausted and trembling, and you’re laughing at him. Sniffling, you blink through the tears, “I’ve hated you more than I do right now, it’s okay.”

He can’t help but smile, brushing a few strands of hair back off of your face, then leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about the future, and about our family—“

“Don’t you dare fucking propose to me right now, Bradley. Don’t.” You growl. The nurse at your side just can’t hold it in. Bradley frowns at her as she giggles and rubs soothingly at your back. He kisses your knuckles and closes his mouth.

You’re right. He’ll finish that speech another time.

“Here’s his head.”

Bradley looks swiftly away and stares at the ceiling. The death-grip that you’ve got on his hand is the least of his worries. The thought alone is enough to make him dizzy. Jake’s going to kill him if he passes out. He inhales slowly through his nose and leans in again, resting his forehead against your temple as you cry out.

“There we go, that’s perfect. Keep going, he’s almost here.” The doctor’s tone never lifts above a breezy cadence. She’s beyond cool, finally glancing up to offer you a small smile.

He sticks to your side, kissing your temple. Your chest heaves. There’s not long to go, you’re almost done. But, the end is the worst. It really does feel like you’re going to black out. You don’t know how people have been doing this for so long, or why some of them choose to have so many kids after this pain.

You half expect to give up, to break down crying and begging for your mother before it’s all done. You’re right on the verge, whimpering into the sleeve of Bradley’s flight suit. And then, it’s over. The doctor exhales deeply and hums.

He takes his first big inhale and promptly wails into the air.

The doctor has him in her hands when she looks up and catches sight of the two of you before her. You’re clinging onto his hand and he’s pressing as close to you as he can without crawling into the bed. There’s a fearful, awestruck look plastered across both of your faces as you stare in the direction of the scream.

She smiles at the two of you. You’re going to be just fine.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asks Bradley calmly. He regrets yelling at her now, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

Bradley blinks, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hurt him.

She chuckles, then shakes her head. “You won’t.”

He does as instructed, rolling his sleeves up, and quickly cleaning his hands and arms. He’s the first one that gets a look. As he sets the scissors back down, he turns his head towards you with a look on his face that you haven’t seen before.

Blinking back tears, Bradley smiles softly at you. And then he’s all yours. They set the baby down on your chest, starting to clean and dry him off right away. Bradley moves to your side once again, brushing your hair back off of your forehead.

Still wailing, you whimper quietly as you stare down at the infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, a good set of lungs on him. Bradley’s lips press softly to your forehead as you reach out, hands trembling, and trail your fingers featherlight along the length of his spine.

His plush, pink lips tremble as the wailing starts to subside. Bradley strokes tenderly at the nape of your neck with his thumb, rendered silent as he watches you with him.

“Hi,” You breathe out, hugging the towel closer to him. You inhale deeply, then exhale through your nose. A nurse smiles as she reaches around you to place the soft knit hat on top of his head. He’s warm enough now, you want to keep it that way. “Hi, baby boy.”

Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. Four and a half hours of labour without any tears. Twelve seconds of watching you with your baby and hot tears are stinging his eyes.

You get five minutes with him before they have to check his vitals, his weight, his height. As much as your arms feel empty without him there, you want those results. You want him to be fine. You want to see him in that bassinet beside your bed tomorrow night.

Blinking, you look up at Bradley. He scoffs as your mouth falls open.

“Allergies.” He mumbles, crouching down to kiss your mouth as tears dampen his cheeks. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, turning your face into his neck. You feel him relax into your touch. He kisses your shoulder, sniffling.

Both of you let it be quiet for a moment. You won’t be getting a lot of that once you’re at home, not with that boy’s vocal chords.

“Thank you,” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck. He pulls back from the hug just slightly, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. He sighs, then nods seriously. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t ask me to do it again.” You joke, watching his tearful face shift into a grin. He sits forwards and kisses you. You close your eyes as he trails his fingertips along your arms.

“I’m serious,” He tells you softly, watching you blink tiredly. “I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for you. I was bitter and mean, and you were way too nice to me. It’s because of you that we have him. I’m so, so grateful.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile. If Jake could hear some of this, he would probably start to like Bradley again.

Exhaustion starts to set in, but there’s no time to sleep when there are doctors and nurses fussing over you, and then he’s being bundled back into you again.

Your eyelids are heavy as you turn your head and look over at Bradley, sitting in the chair beside your bed. His flight suit is tied around his waist and his t-shirt is draped over the back of the chair. Your baby looks tiny nestled into his arms.

You fight to keep awake as your always calm doctor walks into the room once again and sits down between the two of you.

“Seventeen inches, four pounds and ten ounces. Congratulations.” She tells the two of you with a small smile. Bradley doesn’t look up at her, smoothing his fingertips through the soft, dark hair on your son’s head. She looks at you, then at Bradley. “He’s strong. He’s doing well. We’re going to move you to the neonatal intensive care unit so that we can keep an eye on his feedings. We need to get that weight up, keep him warm. But, I’m not concerned.”

You swallow softly. “The tests and everything… he looked okay?”

She stands up and takes two small steps towards you. She rests her hand softly on your forearm, giving you a sincere nod. “Aside from his weight, he’s perfect. Does he have a name?”

Bradley finally lifts his head and looks, offering you a small smile. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod at her. “His name’s Thomas.”

It breaks your heart when it’s time for him to go. The thought of him being without you on that ward. Bradley holds you while you cry, and truthfully, he feels like crying too. It’s been a long day. You’re all emotional.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. Then, half-awake himself, he heads off to see your son. It’s the first night that he gets to say goodnight to the both of you.

Bradley stops as he closes the door to your room behind him. He stares at the man asleep in the waiting area, drooling on his hand as it props his chin up. He knew Mav had gotten here a while ago, someone had brought the bag in. Bradley just figured he would have gone home by now. Exhaling slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides.

“Mav?”

The older pilot startles awake, blue eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out where he is. It takes him a moment to figure out who is in front of him. Tall, flight-suit, mustache. Maverick feels the lump in his throat grow as he realises that it isn’t his best friend.

He looks Bradley up and down. He looks older now than he did a few hours ago, not just because he’s tired. Because Maverick isn’t looking at a little boy anymore.

“There’s someone you probably want to meet, huh?”

…

tags: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #my future in you #bradley bradshaw x reader

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 3

This was a collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs!

Summary: Eddie knows he hasn’t gone about things as he should have, so he’s determined to make things better—for everyone. You can read part two here.

Note: Thank you everyone for your kind words and hilarious messages! Seeing what you all have to say about this series truly makes my day.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, spanking, oral f!receiving, I think that’s it?

Words: 10.8k

[All stories in this verse]

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as—”

BZZZT!

The apartment buzzer rings, startling you from your When Harry Met Sally trance. You’d nearly dropped your bowl of cookie dough ice cream. 

“I’ll answer it,” your roommate calls out, padding across the living room. You muster up a smile as a silent thanks; you just don’t have the mental energy to face another human being right now. 

“Who is it?” Jess asks, speaking into the intercom on the wall. 

“It’s me. Um, it’s Eddie.” His voice makes your stomach drop into your feet as you violently shake your head no. You’d filled Jess in on what had happened over the weekend, and she certainly wasn’t on Eddie’s side. 

Sure enough, a scowl crosses her face. “Why don’t you fuck off, Eddie?” she sneers. 

“Yeah, so, I’ll do that,” he mumbles, “but I just need to drop something off. Please.” He sounds so pathetic. Good. 

Jess looks over at you for your reaction. “I don’t want anything from him,” you mutter, snuggling deeper into your fuzzy blanket. “Tell him to go away.”

She nods, pressing on the intercom again. “Denied.” She starts to walk away, but Eddie’s pleas stop her in her tracks. 

“Look, I know I fucked up big time. And I’m so sorry. I never should have dragged her into this; gotten her caught up in my bullshit. I was…I was a coward, okay? A goddamn coward. But I’m done avoiding fixing my mistakes. Because when I tried to run from my problems, I hurt the best girl I know. And I want—need her to know that I’ll prove how much she means to me, if she’ll let me.”

Jess turns to you, her eyes wide and slightly misty, obviously moved by Eddie’s words. She puts her hand over her heart and inclines her head towards you, silently asking if you’ve changed your mind. And it’s tempting. How many times did you fantasize about Eddie making some big dramatic declaration about how much he cares for you? But you’re scared. Scared this is some sort of false hope. That you’ll let yourself be ensnared by his spell and let yourself get hurt again and again. You’ve never had fear like this before and it’s as if your body and mind just want to shut down.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I-I don’t want to see him.” 

Now Jess goes from moved to annoyed. She plants her hands on her hips and takes a few steps closer to where you’re curled up on the old floral couch. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve listened to you sing the praises of this man for a year now. How sweet and kind and wonderful he is. Listened to you say over and over again how much you love him and how if you had him, you’d never take him for granted like his crazy bitch of a wife does.” She flings her hand toward the front door. “Well? He’s here. Trying to apologize for what he’s put you through. You even said yourself when you came home crying the other day that you know he cares about you. So why don’t you at least hear him out?” 

“I don’t want to see him,” you say in a small voice. Sniffling, you shrug your shoulders. “You’ve never seen his eyes.” You shake your head, gaze dropping to your lap. “He has this puppy dog look about him and I know if I see it, I’ll cave no matter what he says.”

“So, go in your room,” Jess says. “I’ll let him up, drop whatever he wants to drop off, let him say his peace. And you can just listen.”

Heaving a sigh, you snatch up the remote and press the pause button. Tossing the blanket from your lap, you stand and make the few steps into your room and shut the door. Jess scurries back over to the intercom, hoping he hasn’t left yet.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah! Yeah, still here.” The hope is clear in his voice as he realizes he hasn’t been ignored completely. 

“Come on up.”

Eddie wastes no time, pulling the door open as soon as Jess presses the button, taking the stairs two at a time and making his way to apartment 217. The sound of his knuckles rapping on the door reaches you in your bedroom and you wrap your arms around your body, mentally preparing yourself to listen to what he has to say. 

“She’s in her room,” you hear Jess tell him. “You can talk through the door. And what have you got to drop off?”

There’s silence except for Eddie’s footsteps and the curiosity of what he’s brought burns in your brain. As his footsteps come right up to the other side of your door, there’s a buzzing in your stomach.

“C-Can you hear me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. Just the sound of his voice so near has you longing to throw the door open and jump into his arms. You’ve never felt as safe in your life as you did when he was hugging you. 

“I, um.” Eddie clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, sweethea—I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. What are you…” Eddie trails off and your eyebrows pinch in concern. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jess says, loudly enough that you know she’s standing next to Eddie. “But you should read this.” There’s a slide against the hardwood of your floor and you look down to see a little white rectangle slip under your door. It’s a business card, you realize as you pick it up. 

Carl Hampton, Esquire

Divorce Attorney

“Turn it over,” Jess says. 

It’s not enough for you to be mine, so I’m taking the first step towards being yours - Eddie

The tears start immediately. Even as you read the note in Eddie’s scrawling handwriting over and over again, your vision goes a little bit blurrier each time. Your hand trembles as you hold the card, the other going up to cover your mouth. Even though you think you’ve been quiet as your crying grows to sobs, you must be louder than you realize.

“Okay, she’s crying,” Eddie says, clearly talking to Jess. 

“Let me go in,” Jess says, but when she cracks the door open you catch sight of Eddie. He’s distorted and fuzzy through your tears, but you’d know that mass of curls anywhere. Jess has just enough time to jump out of the way as you launch yourself into his arms, not sure if this means you forgive him or not, but just knowing you need to be held by him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says as he clutches you against his body. “Shhh, it’s okay.” One of his arms is wrapped securely around your waist while his hand on the other comes up to smooth over your hair. “You’re okay.”

Jess sidesteps the two of you embracing, so she can head back into the living room; just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to hear everything. 

Eddie’s touch manages, as always, to calm you down. Something about his entire being makes you feel seen and understood. It’s been that way since day one with him. When you’ve calmed enough that you think you could talk without Jess acting as an interpreter, you pull away from Eddie and wipe your tear streaked face off on the sleeves of your sweatshirt. 

“Eddie, please don’t break up your family for me.”

“Baby,” he slips up with the pet name, but neither of you says anything. “I’m just doing what I should’ve done ages ago. I never should have put you in this position.” Eddie aches to bring his hands up to your face, but he doesn’t want to overstep what you’re comfortable with. It’s killing him to see you visibly upset, knowing he caused it, and just holding you wouldn’t solve anything. 

You nod your head at his words. Some of the pain is starting to ease and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in days. You’d told Eddie you just wanted to see him doing something; taking a step in the right direction. And this was a pretty damn good step to take. “You’ve called this guy?”

“No, I didn’t call him. I spent all morning at his office,” Eddie says, and your head snaps up to meet his eyes. “I’ve done everything I have to for the process to begin. Now they work on whatever legal bullshit they’ve got to do, I guess.”

But there’s something else that’s been eating at you. Yes, Eddie should’ve divorced Brittany a long time ago. But now that he’s finally doing it, does he really want to jump from one relationship to another? “Are you sure you want this? You don’t want to stay single for a while? Because I’ll under—”

Eddie caves and brings his hands up to your face, leaning in to press his lips firmly against yours, trying to convey all the love and fondness he can through one kiss. 

“I love you,” Eddie says once he’s pulled away. “And you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel it, but I needed to tell you. I fucking love you.”

There’s never been so much confusion in your heart before. Eddie loves you. The thought can’t seem to sink in. Eddie loves me. You know wholeheartedly that you reciprocate the feeling. You’ve known that you love him for a long time. But there’s still so much fear. It’s dampening the excitement of his declaration.

“I—I’m afraid,” you murmur, eyes unable to meet his. 

Eddie frowns, taking your chin in his hand and tilting it slightly upwards. “Am I that mean and scary?” There’s some humor behind his words, but they’re tinged with concern. 

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m afraid that if I say it back and it—it makes it real, it’ll hurt even more if…” You can’t even finish the sentence without choking up. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie presses his lips to yours. “It’s okay. I get it. Baby, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, too. I mean, an old man like me getting involved with a total knockout like you? Beauty and brains?” He chuckles. “Let’s face it, pretty girl. I have a lot more to lose than you do.”

“I…I…” you hesitate, trying to muster up an ounce of courage. “I can’t do this, Eddie.” You gently press the business card back into his palm. “I can’t be in love with someone who’s married.” Your eyes widen as you come to a realization that makes you sick. “The boys…they’ll know I’m the reason that their parents split up.” You imagine their sweet, innocent faces blotchy with tears as they tell you they hate you. 

Eddie’s posture goes tense, and he almost sounds angry as he says, “Absolutely not. You gave me the courage to file, but my marriage was over long before this.” Your lips brush together in a series of chaste kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He rests his nose on yours; the saltiness of his own tears mixing with yours as they seep into your tongue. 

“I think we need to wait,” you blurt out, words tumbling from your mouth before you can think them through. “Until Brittany knows that you’ve filed, and you’ve talked about it with the kids.” It’s painful to push him away, but it’ll hurt worse if you continue this and he decides not to follow through with the divorce. 

Eddie looks crushed, like he was hoping to sweep you off your feet and make love to you right then and there. “Right, yeah. That makes sense.” He sniffles, trying to will away the sting of your rejection. “When that happens, we can finally be together?”

“If that’s what we both want.”

“Baby, I’ll never stop wanting you.” He’s so tempted to pull you into him and leave harsh, bruising kisses down your jawline, claiming you as his. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You just nod, twiddling your thumbs to keep yourself from intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you still want me to watch the boys?” you ask shyly, cheeks burning at the ridiculousness of the question. “Because I get it if—”

“If it’s okay with you. We’d—they’d—really miss you if you just up and left.” I’d miss you most of all, he thinks, but keeps it buttoned up inside. 

“Yeah,” you concede, stepping back towards your bed. “I’ll see you all later, then.”

You’re about to close the door when you hear him say, “Wait.” He steps closer to you, business card between his pointer and middle fingers. “Hold onto this f’me, please?”

You initially hesitate before accepting the card again. “Okay.”

“Never want you to forget how I feel about you,” Eddie says, placing one last kiss on your cheek before he’s out the door, leaving you in a spiral of your own racing thoughts. 

As soon as Jess hears his footsteps disappear down the hall, she’s in your room. “I don’t normally tell you what to do,” she murmurs, rubbing small circles on your back, “but if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

You give her a playful nudge as you rest your head on her shoulder. “He’s gotta get un-married first,” you remind her—and yourself—bitterly. 

After the conversation you had with Eddie earlier in the day, you’re a little worried things will be awkward when you pick Luke and Ryan up from school. But thankfully, they’re the same happy kids you know and love, and not a thing is different with them. It’s almost time for Eddie to come home when the three of you are finishing up a game of Candyland. Luke kept getting caught in the Molasses Swamp, so he huffs as you enlist their help in cleaning up the board and pieces. When the little boy stomps down the hall to put the game away, Ryan looks up at you. You give him a smile and his gaze shifts back to his lap. He glances back up at you and the unusual behavior makes you frown.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask.

“Why were you sad?” he asks, voice soft.

Frowning, you move some hair off of his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“On Saturday. You were talking with Daddy and then you got really sad and left. You didn’t even come say hi.” His sad brown eyes look so much like his father’s that it brings you back to when Eddie gave you the same look this morning. 

“I didn’t know you saw me.” You pause, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. You’re not sure if Eddie had already said anything about it or not and you don’t want to contradict any explanation he might have given the kids. “Um, well, I was having a bad day. Do you ever have a day where you just don’t feel very happy?” Ryan nods. “That’s what it was. And I didn’t want to make you or Luke sad too, so that’s why I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, nodding his head. “Are you still sad?”

“Not as much,” you tell him truthfully. “Just a little.”

His little hand comes over and takes yours. “I don’t want you to be sad. You know what Daddy tells me when I get sad? That he loves me. And I love you. So, I’m telling you that.”

The smile that comes to your face is reflexive. Ryan is such a sweet boy, and you can’t imagine what your life would be like without him. You lean in and press a kiss to his hair, mumbling against it. “Seems to be a trend with the Munson boys today.”

“What?” Ryan asks.

“I love you, too,” you tell him, squeezing his hand gently. “You made me feel better.”

“Good!” A smile lights up his face and you wonder how this kid became so sweet despite having a mother like he does. Then the obvious answer hits you: Eddie’s his dad. Sweet, kind, means-well-but-sometimes-fucks-it-up Eddie.

You’re jostled from your thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock. Eddie hustles in, giving you a small smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, waiting for your response to see how he should proceed. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coveralls.

“Hi.” You stand up and return his smile. “The boys were great today, as always.” You rest your palm on Ryan’s shoulder as he gives his dad a grin, showing off the gaps where his missing teeth are.

“We played Candyland, and I won,” he proudly reports. “And then I used your cheer-up trick! You know, when you tell someone you love that you love them.”

“Oh?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Luke was that upset about losing?”

You shake your head. “No–well, yes,” you chuckle softly. “But he was talking about me. He saw that I was sad on Saturday and wanted to make me feel better.”

A wider smile spreads across Eddie’s face. “You’re a thoughtful kid, you know that?” he tells his oldest son, who doesn’t quite understand the concept of rhetorical questions.

“I know.” His candid demeanor makes you and Eddie laugh, and Ryan sprints to his brother’s room to announce that their dad is home.

You reach for your jacket, eager to leave before you’re tempted to talk to Eddie. Because you know precisely where that will lead.

“Hey, um,” Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out more bills than usual from his wallet. “I’m gonna tell her tonight. Figured that’d go over better than just having her served.” He hands you your salary plus two extra twenties. “Could you take the boys out for dinner? Could just be McDonald’s or somethin’.”

You swallow thickly as you accept the money. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer, “how long will you need?”

“Give us an hour?” he shrugs. “Don’t think it’ll take that long; she’ll probably yell for a few minutes and then leave. But just in case she decides to stick around and scream for a while.” His chocolate brown eyes meet yours, making you shiver. “Thank you, baby–I mean, thank you. For, um, for everything.”

“Of course,” you nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before you say, “I’ll go tell Luke and Ryan. They’ll probably be excited to have a Happy Meal.”

Eddie bites his lower lip as he watches you walk away. It’s going to be the hardest conversation of his life, but knowing it’ll bring you back to him makes it worth it.

Brittany comes home after you’ve already left with the kids, thankfully. Eddie’s waiting at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of him and knee bouncing up and down in nervousness. Brittany hangs up her coat and pauses as she passes the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as she sees her husband sitting there. 

“Um, hi?” she says.

“Hi, um.” Eddie kicks out the seat across from him at the table. “Can you sit? I need to talk to you about something.”

To his complete shock, she complies. “Where are the boys?”

“Uh, out to dinner. I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

“Okay.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest before her face contorts in a sneer. “Wait. Is that little whore pregnant?”

Eddie bangs his palm against the table before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking call her that.” He takes a moment to compose himself, then a small smile creeps on his face as he thinks about the question. At the very thought of you having his baby.

“Holy shit, she is!” Brittany shouts.

“Oh, calm down!” Eddie rolls his eyes and motions for her to relax. “She’s not.”

“What’s with that dopey grin then, huh?” She spits the words at him, venom lacing every syllable. 

“Honestly? Cause the thought of her having my baby makes me really fucking happy. But that’s not—.”

“Ugh!” Brittany screeches. “What is wrong with you? I am your wife. Me! Remember? The one you promised yourself to?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, a hand slapping against his chest. “You’re actually serious? Really, Britt? You realize you’re the one who broke the vows first, remember? Years and years ago. So, you don’t get to act all high and mighty here.” Eddie licks over his lips, shaking his head. “You’re right, technically. You are my wife.” Not for long, he thinks to himself. “But we’ve been over a long time.”

“Just because you’ve decided it?” She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

“Because you stepped out and stopped giving a shit about me.” Eddie holds his hands up. “I’m getting off track. Listen, I saw a lawyer today.”

“Why?” she snaps.

“I filed for divorce.” No sugar coating it. No beating around the bush. This shitshow of a marriage has already taken up too much of Eddie’s time. “And don’t blame her for it, because all she did was give me the courage to do what I should’ve done ages ago.” His eyes are blazing. “You only kept me around so you could pretend to have this perfect little life: husband, kids, house in the suburbs. Or maybe because you get some sick pleasure from stringing me along while you sleep with half the town.” That last part is probably a step too far, but he doesn’t care.

Brittany scoffs incredulously. “Fine, Eddie. You two enjoy your Barbie Dreamhouse life together. The boys and I will manage without you.” She starts to stand up, but she’s drawn back by a loud guffaw from Eddie. “What?”

“Do you really think they’re gonna want to live with you? Do you even know what goddamn grade they’re in? What they want to be when they grow up?” He watches her face fall. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought. And you know the saddest part? They know it, too. They know that their own mother doesn’t give a shit about them.” He wipes a tear from his cheek. “I bet you know every last detail about your boyfriends, though. You and your fucked up priorities.”

Brittany’s expression turns from shock to rage. “Get. Out.” she seethes, gritting her teeth. “Go stay with your girlfriend, since you love her so much.” She’s crying, too, but because she’s losing the argument, not because she’s losing her husband.

“You’re gonna wake up with them and get them ready for school in the morning? Tell me; what do they eat for breakfast?” He laughs tersely at her silence. “That’s what I thought.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m staying here. For Ryan and Luke.” His voice softens slightly. “You can stay here, too, until we sort this shit out.”

Brittany doesn’t take him up on his offer; instead, she storms out of the room and into the bedroom. She starts tossing clothes into a duffel bag, zipping it up and tossing it over her shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow after they go to school to get the rest of my things.”

She slams the screen door behind her, and Eddie hears her car start up and peel out of the driveway. He allows himself to sob, mourning the life he’d once had. But he still has his boys; his incredible, gentle, loving sons. 

And if he plays his cards right, he has you, too.

Eddie finally drags himself from the kitchen table to the bathroom where he washes his face. It’s all red and splotchy from the crying, and the tears are sticky on his skin. As he’s toweling himself off, the bathroom light glints off his golden wedding ring, reflecting in the mirror above the sink. Eddie sets the soft towel down and stares at his left hand. He should be upset about taking it off, he thinks. But as he slips it off his finger all he feels is immense relief. It’s as if the ring weighed a ton and now without it, he feels light as a feather. Walking into his room, he pulls open his bedside table and drops the ring inside. He’ll have to think of something to do with it, but for now, it’s fine lying in the dusty old drawer. 

The front door opens, and two loud voices echo back to the master bedroom. Rubbing his hands over his face one last time, Eddie heads out to greet his family.

“Daddy!” Luke calls when he sees him. “Look! I got a race car toy!”

“Wow,” Eddie says, taking the small blue car from his son. He looks it over and nods his head appreciatively. “This looks like something I’d want to work on in the garage.”

Luke giggles and takes the toy back, happily going over to the coffee table which he pretends is a road for his new car to drive over. 

“Hi, Dad! Bye, Dad!” Ryan runs towards the bathroom, making Eddie chuckle.

“Wasn’t sure he was going to make it home,” you say. Eddie slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gives you a small smile. His eyes catch on the chocolate shake in your hands, and you hold it out to him. “Got you this. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he accepts the treat. 

“How’d it go?” you ask.

Eddie heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Pretty much how I expected it to. She left for the night—went God knows where. Says she’ll be back tomorrow for her things.”

As tense as things are between you and Eddie, you can’t help but step forward and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing over the thin material of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I can't imagine how hard it was for you.”

“The conversation? Yeah. Doing it? Nah. That wasn’t hard,” he says with a shrug. “How were the boys?”

You both know they were fine, but you take the hint that Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He lifts the shake to his mouth and your eyes catch on his hand. At the bare ring finger. The sight makes your tummy do a weird flip that you’re not sure how to interpret. 

“They—They were fine. Good,” you say. “I, um, I should go now. Jess is probably wondering where I am.” You grab your keys and head for the door. 

“Wait!” Eddie calls out, a bit louder than he’d meant to. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know that there’s no time limit on…on us. I mean, if it’s a definite no, I’ll shut up and leave you alone...”

“Eddie,” you smile, more genuinely than before. “You’ve never shut up before, and I don’t expect you to start now.”

“You know what I mean though, right?”

“I do,” you agree. “And I need time to think, but it’s…we’re not off the table.”

Eddie grins; he has to stop himself from picking you up and spinning you around in celebration. “I can live with that,” he says finally. 

“You’d better.”

Sure enough, Brittany comes back the next morning to pack more of her clothes. She briefly kisses Luke and Ryan hello, shooting a glare at Eddie that could kill.

“I’m giving you until Friday to move out,” she snarls once the boys are out of earshot. “We can figure out custody shit with the lawyer, but I think it’s best for them to be in the house for now. With me,” she adds pointedly.

Eddie sighs, exhausted from just the prospect of arguing. “Fine,” he concedes, “but just because I’m moving out doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight like hell for them.” He zips up his coveralls and calls out for the kids to put their shoes on before they miss the bus.

“Whatever, Eddie,” Brittany rolls her eyes, slipping on her blazer and her nametag. “You know they won’t take kids from their mom. You’ll just get every other weekend like the rest of the loser dads.” 

Eddie takes the week to pack up his things, a pit in his stomach as he gets to the photos on his nightstand. The one of him and Brittany can go in the trash, but his heart pangs at the framed picture of his boys. The thought of waking up in the morning without them right down the hall is enough to make him cry.

“No,” he tells himself, “I’m gonna get custody of them. Full custody.” He can picture a new little home with you, Luke, and Ryan. And maybe another baby Munson or two, if you’re willing.

He makes plans with Steve to stay with him and his family, but on Friday morning, an exasperated phone call thwarts his plans.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve coughs into the phone, and Eddie winces when he hears how sick his friend sounds. “The whole Harrington bunch has the flu. It’s like an infirmary here.” He laughs softly, resulting in another round of hacking coughs. “I don’t think we’re quite up for visitors right now. I’m sorry, man.”

“S’okay,” Eddie grumbles. “Feel better.” He doesn’t have time to figure out new plans before he has to get to work, so he’ll just have to brainstorm through his oil changes today. 

When you pick the kids up from school that afternoon, you immediately notice how quiet both boys are—especially Ryan. You’re almost positive you know the reason why, but you debate with yourself the whole ride back to the house if you should say anything. 

Luke seems to be in a better mood once he gets a snack in him. He sits on the couch, little legs tucked up underneath his body as he munches on graham crackers and watches Scooby Doo. Ryan is still noticeably glum though, sitting at the kitchen table, his finger tracing random patterns on the green tabletop. 

“Hey,” you say, taking the seat next to him. There’s no way you can just stand by and see this sweet boy feel so lousy. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If something is bothering you or is on your mind. Anything.”

Ryan nods his head, and you think he’s going to stay silent. But after a few moments he lifts his head up towards you, his large brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want to live here with Mom.”

It’s not what you expected to come out of his mouth. Any variation of “mom and daddy are breaking up” is what you thought you were going to hear. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Ryan sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Any other time you’d correct him for it, but the least you could do is let it pass. 

“Daddy said Mom is staying here and Luke and I can’t come with him yet. He’s going to stay with Uncle Steve and it’s not fair because I know they have a big house and I’m little enough to share a room with Daddy. But he said me or Luke can’t.” 

Releasing a sigh, you wrap your arm around Ryan’s shoulders. It’s times like these where you don’t feel like the adult you legally have been for years. When you were a kid you thought adults always knew the right thing to say. Now you know that’s bullshit. 

“Oh, Ryan.” You press a kiss to the top of his head. “You know Daddy would give anything to have you both with him, don’t you? You know how much he loves you.”

“More than Mom does,” Ryan says matter-of-factly. It breaks your heart that he knows that at only seven years old. And you can’t bring yourself to lie to the boy by refuting the claim. 

“Daddy loves you so much,” you reiterate. “And I love you.”

“Hey,” Ryan says with a small smile. “You used Daddy’s trick, too.” 

“Look at that,” you say. “And I didn’t even mean to. I was just telling you the truth about how much I love you.” You pull him into a hug, and he climbs in your lap. The only other time he’s done this before was when he was sick, so you know he desperately needs the comfort. “Hey, I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.” Cradling him against your body, you rest your head on top of his. 

By the time Eddie gets home, both of the boys are crashed on the couch with you, one tucked on either side as Toy Story plays on the television. Their father looks wrung out as he steps inside, bags under his eyes and exhaustion worn into lines on his face. Both boys jump up and run to him like normal, but the way they cling to him this time is more desperate and needy. It brings a stinging pressure behind your eyes, and you have to blink it away.

“Hey!” Eddie says, attempting to be cheerful for them. “There’s my boys! How was your day?”

“Okay,” Ryan says at the same time that Luke shrugs. Eddie kisses both of their heads before unzipping his coveralls and giving you a small, weary smile. 

You’re not sure why, but you get the urge to stand up and follow Eddie down the hallway. He raises an eyebrow when you follow him into his room. Your eyes take in the boxes around the cleared-out space before looking back to him.

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Hanging in there, I guess.” He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Gotta blow some cash on a hotel though ‘cause the Harrington clan got the flu.” 

You frown at that. The offer is on the tip of your tongue, but you take a moment to consider it. Is it a good idea? Sure, the tension has eased a bit between the two of you over the course of the week, but it’s still there. It’s not that you feel awkward around him, exactly, it’s more of a yearning that you’re trying to keep in check. But you still love him, and you don’t want to see him wasting his money or spending time all alone holed up in some hotel.

“Eddie, don’t do that. Save your money. Come stay with me.”

His jaw drops and a rough chuckle falls from his mouth. “Sweetheart—you, you don’t have to do this. Really, it’s fine.”

Taking a step closer, you grab one of Eddie’s hands in your own. “You’re about to be a single dad to two growing boys. And paying a lawyer to try and get custody. Come on, just stay with me.” 

Eddie sighs, your logic wearing him down. Finally, he nods his head and licks over his lips. “Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s okay,” you tell him. “As long as you’re not wearing your dirty coveralls, you’re more than welcome to sleep next to me.” 

He sticks his tongue out at you. “My coveralls don’t make the cut, but you’re fine after being around germ machines all day?”

“They’re your germ machines!” you remind him.

When Brittany gets home, she completely ignores you. “You can go now,” she says to her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “Is your stuff packed already?” Eddie nods, but she’s already walked past him. 

“Boys, come say goodbye to your dad!” Brittany calls out half-heartedly. Eddie cringes at the way it sounds: your dad. Not dad, the father of this family; now he’s an outsider in his own home. 

Ryan and Luke trudge out of their rooms. “Daddy,” Luke asks softly, “can you stay? Please? You can sleep in my room if you don’t want to be near Mom.”

Eddie blinks back tears. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “That’s real nice of you to offer, though.”

“I love you, Daddy.” Ryan throws his arms around his dad, squeezing him tight. “‘M gonna miss you.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie forces out a chuckle, “I’m moving out; I’m not dead.” He looks up at you, and you give him a small, encouraging smile. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and we can go to the park, yeah?”

“All of us?” asks Ryan. 

“Um,” Eddie clears his throat, “I don’t know if Mom will—”

“No,” Ryan shakes his head. “I meant…” He looks at you, and you’re taken aback. 

“I don’t want to interrupt your father-son bonding time,” you gently tease, trying not to overstep your bounds. 

“But we want you to come!” Luke protests, glancing at Ryan for confirmation, who nods. “You can play tag with us. Daddy’s too old.”

“Excuse me, sir!” Eddie gasps. “Could an old man do this?” He takes each boy in one arm and throws them over his shoulder. They’re giggling and kicking their feet; Luke narrowly misses Eddie’s groin. “Hey, be careful of the family jewels,” he warns, making them laugh even harder. 

When he sets them down, he looks them square in the eyes. “Tomorrow. Playground. The four of us. And I will kick your little butts in tag. Got it?”

“Got it!” the boys echo, giving him one last hug before going back to play. 

You turn to Eddie. “Y’okay?” you ask him, though it seems like a dumb question. 

“Getting there,” he admits, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder and managing a smile. “Let’s hit the road.”

Eddie throws his bag in his van and climbs in. He follows you as you drive to your apartment and pulls into the parking space next to you. When Eddie steps out of his van, you can tell he’d been crying on the drive over, but you can’t blame him one bit. 

Jess is sitting on the couch when the two of you walk in, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Pretty Woman playing on the television. Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, a few kernels of popcorn stuck between her fingers and her jaw hanging open.

“Hi, again,” Eddie says, giving her a sheepish smile. Jess raises her other hand in greeting, eyes darting over to look at you. 

“Yeah, we uh, we’ve got a house guest for now,” you say, cheeks getting warm. You gesture for Eddie to go ahead of you, into your room. Jess raises her eyebrows at you when you walk past, and you playfully swat at her before following in behind him. Closing the door, you lean against it as you watch Eddie drop his duffel onto your floor. 

“You hungry?” you ask. Eddie shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes. “Eddie, we have food. I can make something.”

“Don’t wanna put you out any more than I am,” he says, shrugging again. 

“So, what? You’re not going to eat the whole time you’re here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and walk over, tugging on the zipper of his leather jacket. “You’re also allowed to take your jacket off, ya know? We don’t make our guests sweat or starve themselves to death.”

“Such a good hostess,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. 

“Oh, come on.” You open your bedroom door and walk out to the kitchen, waiting as Eddie trails along behind you. Pursing your lips, you open the freezer and peer inside. “Should we have ice cream sundaes for dinner?”

“Oh, the boys would be so jealous.” Eddie chuckles and reaches in to grab the ice cream. You put two bowls down on the counter and Eddie starts scooping as you grab any toppings you can find. Whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate chips, cherries, and chocolate sauce. Eddie dips his finger in the chocolate sauce and puts a dot of it on your nose. He laughs when you go cross eyed trying to look at it. 

“Whipped cream, please,” you say, holding your hand out. The sound of the spout spraying out the airy cream meets your ears before you feel the cold stickiness hitting your palm. “I meant the can!”

Eddie’s smirk falls from his face as you lick the whipped topping from your hand, instantly realizing he walked right into you teasing him like that. It hadn’t been your intention to tease him though, and you feel your face warm up as you swallow the mouthful. Neither of you having eaten in hours, you inhale the sundaes, and Eddie manages to only get brain freeze once. You put the empty bowls in the sink to be washed later, and Eddie says he’s going to take a quick shower. As you grab a towel for him, you tease him about making sure he gets all the dirt from his coveralls off his body. He tugs on a strand of your hair before heading into the bathroom.

Even though it’s early, you change into your pajamas and get comfortable on your bed. You pull out your worn copy of Little Women and reread it for what must be the hundredth time. You’re so enraptured by Jo and Laurie’s banter that you don’t even hear the shower turn off. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie’s voice snaps you from your book. Your jaw nearly drops to the ground when you see him walk in, wearing nothing but the towel around his lithe waist. His curly hair is dripping wet, leaving little water droplets along his bare shoulders as he scrambles for his clothes. “Shit, ‘m sorry. Forgot my suitcase…”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, marking your page with an old receipt and closing the book. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Eddie blushes, and it’s simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. “Y-Yeah, but we’re not doing, um, that anymore, so…” He grabs a clean pair of boxers and plaid pajama pants. “I’ll just get changed in the bathroom.” 

He comes back without a shirt on, and you cock an eyebrow in amusement. “Forget something?” you ask, trying to play it cool and not salivate at the sight of his tattooed chest. 

“Oh, yeah…” he grins sheepishly. “I usually get too warm to sleep with a shirt, b-but I can put one on if you’d feel more comfortable.”

The ache between your legs tells you that something else has to happen to alleviate your discomfort, but you push away that thought. “Nah, I’d rather sleep next to a shirtless Eddie than a sweaty one.” But that’s bullshit; you’d sleep next to any version of him you could get. 

Eddie flips you off before climbing into bed. “Longest week of my life,” he mutters. His arm instinctively snakes around your waist; it isn’t until you move to flick off your lamp that he realizes. “Fuck, ‘m just so used to holding you.” He starts to pull away, but you hold his hand in place. 

“You can hold me…if you want to,” you murmur, sliding deeper under the covers. “Y’don’t have to.”

But Eddie’s already tugging your back to his chest. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” His voice is muffled, face nuzzled against your shoulder blade. “Oh, and don’t mind him if he’s excited in the morning. He has a mind of his own.”

You throw his words back at him. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A comfortable silence fills the air as you lay in his arms. He presses tiny kisses along your shoulders, making you shiver. 

“Eddie?” Your voice is so small that even you barely hear it. “Can I ask you something?” You adjust yourself so that you’re facing him, your nose touching his. His big hands fall to your thighs, and he rubs his thumb along them as he waits for you to elaborate. “The other day, when you said you love me…why?”

His face scrunches up in confusion. “Why did I say it? Or why do I love you?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he starts, bringing one palm up to cup your cheek, “I love you because you treat me and my boys with love, kindness, and respect. I love you because you make me smile on my worst days. Saying goodbye to Ryan and Luke tonight…I thought my heart was gonna break in half. But then you were there, and I knew everything would be all right. Maybe not right now, but it will be. You give me hope. And I haven’t felt that for a long time.” He offers you a little smile. “And I told you because you deserve to know how fucking loved you are.”

His confession leaves you breathless; it takes you a moment to process it all. “Eddie Munson, the fact that anyone made you question your worth…” you trail off, shaking your head. That isn’t what this is about. “You make me happy. I never knew that one person could be so kind, so thoughtful, so loving. And your boys…God, they’re just the best kids, all because of you. They see what a gentle, sensitive man you are, and they’re not afraid to show that side of themselves.”

“I’m actually very burly,” he pouts. “Dunno why you’re painting me as this big ol’ softy.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” you giggle. “You’re the toughest, grittiest guy I know. You could fight a kangaroo and win.” You feel his fingertips dig into your hips as he brings you even closer to him. “And those are just some of the reasons why…why I love you, Eddie.”

Even in the dim lighting of your darkened room you can see the way Eddie’s face lights up at your words. If your stomach wasn’t already a flurry from finally telling him how you feel, it would be from the sheer joy in his expression. 

“Say it again,” Eddie pleads, hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Please.”

“I love you, Eddie.” His smile is contagious as you mirror it, saying the words that have long been on your heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

It’s far from your first kiss, but as the two of you lean in towards one another, the electricity crackles in the air around you. There’s a giddiness and an earnesty when your lips touch that sends a shockwave through your body. It’s not your first kiss but it’s your first kiss since you’ve declared your love for one another. That makes it your favorite kiss of all. 

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, hand sliding down to your neck and his thumb brushing over your pulse point. Goosebumps break out on your skin beneath his touch, and he chuckles as he feels them against his fingertips. 

“Can’t believe you react that way because of me,” he says. “I feel like all of this is too good to be true.” 

You nod, your hand coming up to rest on top of his black widow tattoo, over his heart. “I know what you mean. I felt that way our first night.”

“Mm, but now,” Eddie says, pausing to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It’s just you and me and nothing has to be hidden. I can take you out, hold your hand in public, kiss you in front of whoever I want—with your permission, of course.”

“What about the boys?” Your hand comes up to play with the damp curls at the base of his neck. “What do we tell them? It might be confusing for them to go straight from ‘Daddy loves Mom’ to ‘Daddy loves our babysitter.’” 

“That wasn’t exactly how it happened,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle. “More like ‘Daddy stopped loving Mom a long time ago because she’s evil incarnate and then he met the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman who stole his heart.’”

“That might be a little tough for them to swallow,” you say, a playful smirk on your lips. 

“Well…” Eddie says, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. There’s a shy expression on his face and it’s so foreign to his features. “What are we, then? Like, how would you want to describe what we have?” 

It sounds like such a high school question, but it’s important to figure it out and make sure you’re both on the same page. Husband and wife? your brain thinks automatically. You feel like you’re going to have to constantly kick yourself in the ass to make sure you don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Well, you mentioned taking me out. Why don’t you ask me on a proper first date?”

“God, I haven’t done that since high school,” Eddie says.

“Didn’t they call it courting back then? You know, in the 1920’s?”

Eddie smirks and his hands instantly attach to your sides, tickling you until you’re a squealing, squirming mess below him. 

“Okay, so how about for our first date I take you to the bingo hall?” Eddie’s flat voice makes you giggle even harder. You drop your forehead to his shoulder and cuddle your body closer to his. 

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “M’not 21 yet. Can't gamble.”

“Or drink,” Eddie realizes, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, I’m dating a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

A blush comes to your cheeks as you laugh, deciding not to point out that there is in fact a Cabbage Patch doll sitting in the corner of your room. “So, we’re dating, huh?”

“I guess we will be once I think of a perfect place to take you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“And ask me,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows. 

“Right, right.” Eddie clears his throat. “Sweetheart, would you make me the happiest metal head this side of the Mississippi and accompany me on a date next Friday?”

Pursing your lips, you pretend to think his offer over. His eyes narrow at you as the silence stretches on.

“I would be honored, Edward.”

His nose wrinkles up at the formality of his full name. “Ugh, that sounds so snobby. Edward.”

“Hmm,” you tease. “How about Edwin? Edmund? Edgar?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oedipus?”

“Isn’t that the guy who fucked his mom and killed his dad?”

The rest of the night is like this; being silly and sneaking kisses as you cuddle up into each other. You feel so safe against Eddie’s chest, enveloped in his warmth. You start to drift off to sleep, but your rest is disrupted by his constant tossing and turning.

“Something on your mind?” You try to keep your voice light, but you can’t help the concern that seeps through.

Eddie slips his arm around your waist, thrumming his fingers along your hip. “Can’t stop thinking about my boys,” he murmurs. “I just wish they were here, too. Hate knowing that I won’t wake up in the morning to them fighting over Hot Wheels.”

You sigh, debating whether or not to tell him what you know. “I talked to Ryan today,” you begin, hoping you’re doing the right thing, “and he said that he wants to live with you. Not, um, her. He was sad that he and Luke had to stay in the house and not come with you.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s silent, processing what he’s just heard. “That makes me feel good, I guess. Too bad a judge won’t care.”

“What do you mean?” You prop yourself up on your elbow, facing him.

“She said that dads usually just get every other weekend, holidays, y’know,” he bites his lip nervously, and you kiss it to distract him. “I mean, I’m glad they don’t hate me, but it makes me sad that they’ll have to be with her if they don’t want to be.”

You shake your head. “Eddie, the boys–especially Ryan–are old enough that a judge will listen to what they want. And if they tell him or her that they’re more comfortable living with their dad, you might be able to get full custody.” He’s still quiet, so you press on. “I know you don’t want them being too involved in it, but it might be worth it if it means they get to be with you.”

Eddie caresses your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. “How do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Make me happy. Make me realize that everything will be okay.” He kisses your forehead lightly before yawning, finally able to relax. “I fuckin’ love you, baby. Sweet dreams.”

Waking up next to Eddie is the best feeling in the world. And he wasn’t lying about his morning…situation. You can feel his hard length pressing up against your thigh as he softly snores. You know you should probably wait until your first official date, but you haven’t stopped craving him since your last time together, back at the auto shop. Before you can stop yourself, you’re kissing his neck, the slight stubble that’s formed overnight scratching your cheek.

“Hey, sugar,” he murmurs sleepily. “What’s gotten into you, hm?”

“Missed you,” you manage, wrapping your leg around his so they’re intertwined. 

He chuckles, voice groggy and deeper than usual. “Missed me? ‘M right here.” His eyebrows shoot up when you reach down and gently graze his morning wood. “Oh, shit,” he hisses, “baby, if you touch me there…”

“I know,” you say between kisses. “I want you to. Please.”

Eddie’s fingertips dig into your side. “Y’know I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” he growls, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off. Before you can ask him for more, he’s diving beneath the sheets, bringing his lips to your inner thighs, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting.

“St-stop teasing me, Eds,” you whimper. He’s so fucking close to where you need him to be, yet too far away. You can see the outline of his head as he gives a little nod, plunging between your legs. He licks a stripe up your folds, breathing heavily as he tastes you.

“You’re fuckin’ delicious,” he says, words vibrating along your core. “Could eat this pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, shit.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, one hand fisting your sheet as Eddie’s tongue licks up another stripe. The other hand snakes its way into his messy curls, and he moans when you pull his hair.

 He brings his lips to your clit and sucks on it, grinning as he senses you writhing against him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he teases, slipping a finger inside your aching sex. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, trying not to buck up your hips, but your efforts are fruitless. Eddie’s on a mission to make you come as many times as he possibly can, and he’s making no attempt to hide it. You feel a second thick finger enter your pussy, stretching you slightly. His fingers pump in and out of you, his tongue keeping a relentless pace on your clit. The overstimulation from his mouth and hand pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name over and over as you finish.

Eddie throws the sheet over his head, grinning widely. His chin is covered in your slick, and he wears it proudly. “That’s one,” he announces. “Ready for another?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“Y’ask so nice for me, babe.” 

Blushing at his sweet words, you turn your head to hide your face in your pillow. Eddie tuts and gently tugs your chin until you’re looking up at him again. He chuckles at your shy look, leaning down to press slow kisses along your throat. 

“I love you, baby,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“I love you too, Eddie.” You feel his hips align with yours, and your jaw drops open at the pleasurable stretch as he begins to push inside of you. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans. “Missed your tight little pussy.” 

Your fingers clutch at his back, nails sure to leave some raised pink scratches by the time you’re done. “S’big,” you moan. “Don’t know if I can take it all.”

“You can,” he reassures you, going in deeper until he bottoms out. “You’re gonna take it all f’me. ‘M gonna fill you up s’good. Just please, gotta let me move, baby doll.” His eyes are pleading, desperate to rut up inside you.

“Can move, Eddie,” you say, nodding your head. The words have barely left your lips before he’s withdrawing, just to thrust back into you. A gasp leaves your lips as he fills you to the hilt again. It may have only been about a week since you’d slept together, but it felt like an eternity without having him inside of you. 

“Love you,” you say in between moans, and Eddie’s hips pick up the pace at your words.

“Love you, too. Fuck, baby, you keep saying that and this isn’t going to last as long as I want it to.” He huffs a breathy laugh and rests his forehead against yours. 

“That a challenge?” you ask with a smirk.

“Uh uh,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “M’gonna make you come over and over.” As if to prove his point, he slips two fingers into your mouth, putting pressure on your tongue. “Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby. I know what that pretty mouth can do.”

Slipping your eyes closed, you swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning around his thick digits. You open your eyes and meet Eddie’s dark gaze, his attention focused solely on your face as his hips keep snapping against yours. Once you release his fingers with a sharp pop, he brings them down to your clit, rubbing in a tight circle. 

A whine escapes your lips as you throw your head back, neck arching and exposed to the man above you. Eddie leans in and attaches his lips to the side of your throat, sucking and biting at the skin, determined to leave you with a mark that won’t fade any time soon. 

“Close, Eddie,” you say, hands coming up to tangle in his long curly locks again. 

“Come on, baby,” Eddie urges. “Gimme another one.” 

You do as he says, arching your back and wrapping your legs around the bottom of his ass and pulling him even deeper inside you. “‘M coming, all f’you.” He nods, slowing his pace slightly and allowing you to come down slightly.

“S’fucking beautiful when you come on my cock,” he muses. “Want one more from you. Can you handle that? Just one more?”

“One more,” you murmur, already fucked out from two back-to-back orgasms.

“Thas’ my good girl.” 

“C-Come with me this time?” you ask, voice hoarse. Tears prick at your eyes, and you wipe them away before he can notice.

“Aww,” Eddie coos, “did I wear my girl out?”

His taunting lights a fire inside you, and you smirk. “Actually, I want you deeper.”

“Fuck,” he throws his head back, withdrawing from you. He chuckles darkly when you hiss at the loss. “The faster you get on your hands and knees, the faster I can be back inside you.”

Muscles weak and protesting the movement, you force yourself to ignore it and do as Eddie says. His hands grab your hips, rough calloused fingers running over your smooth skin. 

“Mm, what a nice view,” Eddie admires as he removes one hand from your body to line his cock up with your hole. He teases you, sliding his length up and down your slit as you drop your head forward. Your whines only encourage him as he watches your hole flutter around nothing. 

“Please, Eddie,” you beg. 

“Anything for my needy girl,” Eddie says, and you don’t need to be looking at him to know there’s a smirk on his face. He slides back inside of you and your arms give out, upper body landing on your pillow. Your fingers scratch at your purple pillowcase as he slams into you. The repeated motion of his hips has the headboard banging against the wall and his heavy balls slapping against your clit. 

“Fuck, baby,” you breathe out. “So deep. So, so deep.”

“Tell me how it feels, princess. How’s it make my girl feel?” Eddie’s hand grabs onto your ass and slides it up your back. 

“So full,” you answer. “Love when you’re inside me.” The pressure of him against your walls has you clenching around his length. “Spank me, Eddie. I’ve been a bad girl.”

Eddie’s hips stutter; you’ve never caught him off-guard like this before. His palm meets your ass with a small whack, but it’s nothing compared to what you need. 

“No, harder. You won’t hurt me.”

A string of swear words slips from his lips as he smacks the fat of your ass with more power, leaving a stinging print. “More?” But he can’t follow through before he stammers, “fuck—shit—‘m coming.” His dick twitches, and he moans as he finishes. “Come with me; want you to cream my cock while I fuck you full of me. Want you to take all my cum, thassagoodgirlfuckfuckfuck.” He spills into you, continuing to thrust. “Take it, take it all. So fuckin’ good f’me, taking all my cum. Bet you want me to knock you up, don’t you?” The words leave his mouth before he can catch them. 

The thought of having Eddie’s baby normally makes you feel all kinds of ways; imagining him tenderly kissing your bump or staring at your newly-larger breasts in awe. It’s all pretend for now, at least until you graduate. 

Thank God for birth control, you think. But then your whole body freezes up. 

In all of last night’s excitement, you’d forgotten to take your pill. 

“Shit!” you cry out, pulling away from him. But it’s too late; you can feel his release dripping down your leg. You turn to him, misty-eyed, and explain the situation. 

“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” Eddie smiles, laying down and motioning for you to snuggle into his chest. “Would it be so bad? Having my baby?”

You shake your head. “I-I want your baby,” you admit, “but I gotta get my degree, get a job…” You gaze up at him incredulously. “You really mean it when you say you wanna get me pregnant? It’s not just dirty talk?”

Eddie laughs, putting his arm around you and pulling you closer. “Baby, if you only knew how many times I’ve gotten off thinkin’ about knocking you up…” He clicks his tongue. “Turns me on so…damn…bad…” he muses, punctuating the last three words with kisses to your neck. 

“Easy there; you just wore me out,” you giggle. “We should be okay. I can take two now, and I’m just a few days from getting my period.” You laugh harder when he frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re grossed out by periods!”

“No, but we can’t…y’know, practice making a baby while…” he pouts, and you tuck his hair behind his ears. 

“I don’t mind a little mess if you don’t,” you shrug. “Besides, orgasms help with cramps.”

His eyes light up. “Consider me your personal heating pad, then.”

You roll your eyes and swing your legs out of bed. “C’mon, we promised the boys we’d take them to the park.”

Eddie groans, overdramatically, and holds his hands over his heart as if he’s been shot. “You found it, baby. Literally the only thing that could get me out of bed with you.” 

This time when you roll your eyes, there’s a fond smile on your face as well. “I’m sure the boys would be glad to know that they’re prioritized over getting laid.”

“Well, first of all,” Eddie says as he scoops up his boxers from where they’d be kicked on the floor. “It’s not just getting laid. It’s having sex with you. Totally different, we’re making love now. Officially!” His face radiates joy as he jumps around, sliding his boxers up. “Because, you know, you said you love me and all. Remember that?”

Turning around from where you were digging some underwear out of your drawer, you put your hands on Eddie’s chest and smile up at him, placatingly. “I do remember. And I remember you saying you love me too. But the boys are still more important.”

Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to your hair. “They’ll understand when they’re older.”

Playfully, you shove him off of you, which only makes him grab you around the waist and pull you up against his body. You’re squealing as you try to get away from him, to collect your clothes for the day. But, unable to shake him, you settle for him helping you get dressed. 

“Can I stay here until the Harrington quarantine is lifted?” he asks, suddenly shy. 

You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his. “Baby, you can stay here forever.” 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWs #older!eddie #babysitter!reader

[explosionkatsu]

Just some random drabbles. Hahahahaha!

Bakugo x Singlemom Y/n

"I can't do this."

The love of your life said after you gave birth to your baby.

"W-what?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Why now? Why is he backing up now?

"I can't be a father. I don't know how to be a father. Fuck, we shouldn't have done this." He spouted. "I can't take care of that thing."

"This thing you're talking about is our child." You were now enraged. Angry tears streaming down your face as you stare in the man in front of you.

This was supposed to be a great moment. He, carrying your child in his arms while you gaze at them lovingly. But no. He was backing out.

The dream of having your own family was immediately shattered.

"W-why?" You asked. "Why now?"

He looked at you with frantic eyes as if he suddenly realized all his responsibilities. "I'm sorry."

The last word you heard from him before he finally left.

---

Several nurses came to your room when they suddenly heard you crying. Some pity you and some comfort you.

You don't know what to do, what to think.

Your tears continuously stream down your cheeks as you stare at what is supposed to be your little bundle of joy. But right now, as you gaze at your son's peaceful complexion, you are hurting. Everything reminded you of that asshole.

You remembered giving up as a hero when you met him. You remember him telling you how much he wanted a family with you.

All of it was a lie.

"Why.." You whispered. "Why does it have to be me.." You sobbed.

Some days passed like a blur. You were exhausted, depressed, and motionless. Whenever your child starts crying, you can't take him in your arms to rock him to sleep or feed him. You had to ring a nurse to assist you.

They were very understanding of your situation, though. They never complain or even ignore you. Some are comforting you, giving you your meal even though you never touched it. They were worrying about you.

Until you decided to tell him.

He's been there with you ever since high school. Sure, everyone didn't expect you two to be companions, but as of the moment, he's the only someone you have.

Gradually, you picked up your phone from the table beside you. Seeing how many missed calls and messages he left made you at least smile. You read a few of his messages before you click the call button and put it on speaker waiting for him to pick up.

---

An uneventful patrol is what is in his head as he walks around where he's positioned. People are greeting him which he nods in response. Some tried taking a picture with him but he refused to entertain them since he was on duty. He can't lose his concentration.

That was when his phone suddenly rang. If it's Eijiro, he'll sure hang up. But when he checked the caller ID, it was you. Instantly, he pressed the answer button and placed his phone next to his ear.

"The hell happened to you? Why haven't you answered my calls?" Katsuki spoke out while still keeping an eye around him.

Katsuki heard you chuckle on the other line.

"Hello to you too, Katsuki." You giggled.

"You didn't answer my question, dumbass." He tsked.

"I-i.."

Something's off and he knows it.

"What's wrong?" Almost instantly, Katsuki's voice went soft.

You didn't know how to tell him. Katsuki has always hated your ex ever since you guys started dating. He was even pointing out the red flags and yet you chose to ignore his advice.

"I- Katsuki.." You muttered, trying not to cry.

Katsuki was patient though.

"He left.."

After those words came out of your lips, Katsuki immediately asked for her location and ended the call.

There are other heroes around him. They can protect them. Right now, his top priority is you.

---

Once Katsuki reached the hospital, the receptionist was surprised by his sudden appearance. Part of them wanted to be a fan girl but right now, he looks like he's on a rush.

"Tell me Y/N L/N's room, now."

"Y-yes Mr. Dynamight."

---

When Katsuki swung the door, it opened too quickly causing it to hit the wall loudly.

"Y/n!?" He yelled.

But the view in front of him shut him up.

There you are, sitting on the hospital bed as you gaze outside the window, carrying a sleeping baby.

"You'll wake him up, you know." You giggled and turned your gaze to him.

"Where is he?" He growled and made his way towards you closing the poor door behind him.

Mentioning him suddenly made your smile drop and stare at your child.

"H-he.. Backed out.." You said as you gazed upon the peaceful sleeping child in your arms. "He left us."

"That motherfucker." Katsuki cussed. "I know he's a coward."

You chuckled sadly. "You've always warned me about him." You said. "I should've listened."

Katsuki didn't say anything. He dragged a chair and sat beside the hospital bed close to you.

"I should've believed in every word you said." You were now tearing up. "I should've-" You couldn't hold it back any longer and sob quietly. "I-i'm sorry, Katsuki.."

"Tsk." you heard him.

Standing up once again, Katsuki sat on your hospital bed this time and placed a palm on your cheek, wiping a tear with his thumb. "Dumbass." He said, staring at you. "Why are you apologizing? Didn't I tell you I will support you in all your decisions? Everything." He added.

You looked at him, still tearing up. You were so lucky you had someone like him.

Several minutes have passed until you finally calm down. Your head resting against his shoulder while he plays with your hair.

"I can be his father." he blurts out of nowhere which makes you pull back and stare at him in disbelief.

"What?" You were confused, okay?

"I want to be his father." Katsuki repeated with a blank face.

"K-katsuki. I-

"Look." Katsuki sighed. "I liked you for what? How many fucking years. Fuck, this isn't the right time for a confession, but hell. I- shit. I don't like you, I fucking love you, you idiot."

He was ranting while you were still processing what he said.

He loves you?

"Y-you love me?" You blinked.

"I said a lot of words and that's the only one you heard?"

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

[gauloiseblue]

TF141 + König, Graves, Alejandro | Body Worship

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

Every healthy couple has done body worship to some degree, whether through compliments or something that's done behind closed doors. So when the two of you have reached that point, this is what they'll do:

Price

He'll absolutely kiss every part of your body, and his favorite spot is on the back of your knee.

In his mind, it's a reserved spot for a lover's kiss—because it could only be done in private, when the two of you lounge around.

While it's true that he prefers doing something else with you in private, he also loves kissing that particular spot, particularly when he feels like a sap, like a sentimental fool.

When you're laying on your back, he'd kiss your belly, before laying his head on your chest. He does it so often, that you'd instinctively run your fingers through his hair.

He loves doing it so much that it becomes a stress relief for him.

(One time, out of curiosity, he decided to compare his pulse before and after doing it, and his heartbeat did slow down during the cuddle)

Once, you joked that he has to find another way to destress or he'll die of a heart attack when you're gone. He didn't laugh.

Fluff aside, I think it's pretty much true that he's a giver when it comes to sex.

He's been in the position of power for so long, it's only natural for him to be in charge of everything.

(That applies to his relationship as well. Although he did tone it down, so he wouldn't end up suffocating his partner)

He'd take care of your body, and he'd make sure that nobody can make you feel like he does.

The thing about Price, is that he takes pride in knowing your body. He knows the blueprint of your pleasure like the back of his hand—he knows which button to push, and which way to make you see white.

He loves eating you out, that it almost becomes a ritual for him. And he wouldn't stop until your grip on his hair has tightened, so much so it's almost like you're trying to rip his hair out.

While he likes the term 'worship', he prefers 'giving you what you deserve'.

Also, I can picture him kissing his partner's sole or heel when he's fucking her—especially when her legs are up on his shoulder.

Gaz

He's the type of person who likes to hug his partner 24/7.

Aka, the baby monkey

He's very clingy, to the point that you can't escape from him with the excuse of 'going to the toilet'.

It's even worse when he just came back from a mission. Like, ten times worse.

He's the type that'd drag you into the shower when he's home, even though you already did it 5 minutes before. All because he misses you so much.

He knows that it annoys you sometimes, he even does it purposely just to poke fun at you, but he'd stop when you're genuinely pissed or needed space.

While he's not the type who'd worship his partner with grandiose acts, he'd shower her with compliments.

He'd tell you how much he loves your curves, or how much he wishes to be the one who hugs your body instead of clothes.

He loves his partner so much that her imperfections seem to blur in his eyes. He can't see any of her flaws, because he's blinded by love.

It might sound cheesy, but he really can't see his partner's flaws. He has no desire to search for it.

He'd be very sad if his partner didn't believe him, and he'd do anything to change her mind.

Maybe that's how the worship started

He'd call you with many nicknames, and all of them contain the word 'pretty' or something with similar meanings.

And he'll definitely abuse it in bed.

"You're so lovely when you cum like that, babe."

"Your lips are tempting me."

For some reason, I see him as someone who'd love mirror sex as a way of worship. Because he can fuck you while praising you at the same time.

(He also uses it as a punishment, especially when you don't believe him)

"Look at you. What a pretty thing you are."

And when he does it, you know he won't stop until you agree with him.

Soap

This man.

You know that post about Napoleon's letter to his wife; 'don't wash, will arrive in three days'? That's literally him.

While it's only figuratively, I do think that he doesn't mind the impropriety of it.

He's been in the army for years, with long working hours, and no time for personal care. So the smell of sweat won't bother him at all.

And he doesn't care about things that we might consider 'gross', such as hairy legs (or anywhere else, really), acne, or greasy hair. For him, it's only natural for humans to have it.

It doesn't mean that he doesn't care about hygiene. He does keep himself clean, but not too obsessed with it—mainly because he doesn't have a problem with it in the first place.

But he wouldn't mind if his partner took care of him, even though he has no idea what that toner does, or what's even moisturizer for.

Skincare aside, I do believe that he doesn't care if you don't shave. He'd still eat you out like a hungry man.

Just like Gaz, he doesn't see any of your imperfections. He just doesn't care.

In bed, he's quite dirty about it. He'd lick your sweat off your neck, and would cover your body with his cum whenever he could.

He also lets you sit on his face, until you drench him with your juice.

When the two of you had sex, he'd exhaust his endurance to its potential. Which means, you'd be covered in sweat and other fluids by the end of session.

Worry not, he'd treat you with aftercare by soaping you up in the bathtub.

Ghost

I feel like Simon would be the textbook example of body worship.

Growing up without proper care left him clueless about love, he wouldn't know how to show his affection if you didn't teach him the right way.

It might’ve felt awkward at the time, but keep in mind that he's trying his best.

It's amusing to watch though, especially when he's just started practicing. Because there'd be a time where you look at him expectantly, and he'd stand there for a full minute—trying to figure out what it means—before leaning in for a kiss.

While he looks like he's the man in charge, he actually finds solace in submission. He'll only take control when he knows that you're okay with it.

He needed a partner who's patient with him, because he'd flinch away at the slightest gesture of affection.

But beyond that point lies a loving partner. Affection won't scare him away anymore, and he won't be afraid to show it in public.

He'll kiss the tips of your fingers, your hands, or your temple tenderly.

In private, he prefers kissing the lines of your back. Trailing his kisses along your spine, and down to your lower curve.

And he'll do it with such tenderness, that it almost feels like a worship.

Did I ever tell you that he's good at massaging?

When you tell him your neck is stiff, he'll tell you to sit down immediately. He'll do such a good job on it, that he'll release all of your muscle knots in 5 minutes.

You know the joke about how men will turn a massage into sex? He's not one of them. He'll genuinely take care of you and tell you to rest.

So don't use it for that purpose, because he'd be so confused when you tease him during the massage.

In general, he wouldn't know what you want unless you say it straight to his face.

It'd change once he's comfortable with you. He'd take initiative more often, and he won't hesitate to touch you. Don't be surprised when he kisses the top of your head whenever he feels like it, even in the presence of other people.

König

This extra large size of a man is actually a scaredy cat.

He's so used to violence that he's afraid that he'd unintentionally bring it into his relationship.

One time, you hissed when he grabbed your wrist, and since then, he's afraid to touch you.

His fear pushes him to be cautious with you, and he'd treat you as if you're a porcelain.

It took about 7 weeks before he treated you like a normal person. And several days more before the two of you could get down to 'business'.

I'd like to mention something about his mask, I don't think he'd hide his face from his partner, even at the time when they've just met. He only uses it in the army, but outside of work, it's definitely off. Maybe he'd wear a mask in public, but that's it.

But since he's used to having a mask on, he sometimes forgets that other people can tell when he's looking. So when his eyes fall on your ass, you'll definitely know it.

Similar to Ghost, I do think that he needs time to learn about how to give and take. The only difference is that he has rough edges, and would definitely tease his partner.

"Don't tell me you can't reach that cupboard, maus?"

He'll definitely take advantage of his height and make fun of yours. Don't be sour about it, though. That's just his way of showing love.

He likes to pick you up, or carry you in his big arms to show the size difference. He did it so easily that he could do it with one arm, and still not break a sweat.

While he doesn't show his affection through kisses, he does it by getting on his knees.

Whenever you sit on the sofa—watching the TV, or just lounging around—he'd join you by sitting on the floor, before placing his head on your lap just like a dog.

On a rare moment, when he's feeling vulnerable, he'd lean his head against your stomach, and wrap his hands around your waist. He'd do it in such a way that people would've mistaken your stillness as something holy—as if you're a personal saint.

Like this image

Sometimes you wanted to question him about it, but you got the feeling that he'd return to his shell when you mention it to him. So you decided to keep it to yourself.

Maybe someday—if you're lucky—you'll find the answer for it.

Graves

In terms of take or give, I think he'd be pretty selfish about it. Especially when it comes to body worship.

He'll demand your affection all the time, and that applies in the bedroom as well.

He won't hesitate to push your head down, until your eyes are on the same level with the bulge on his pants. He'll be cocky about it, manhandling you and dictating you of what to do.

But here's the thing, he's very desperate for it, and you can use it against him.

If you don't mind him taking control, then go ahead. But if you don't want him to, you can literally turn things around by refusing him.

And let me tell you this; he'll do absolutely anything just to get his dick sucked.

You can ask him to kiss your feet, or buy you things, or even worse—you can humiliate him and get away with it. And when he did fulfill your demand, he'd be very submissive to you, even when you're on your knees, taking him in your mouth.

"Just like that, mon cher—" He'd moan, "Oh, yes, yes."

You can absolutely peg him, with the cost of giving him oral. Not a bad trade, right?

Outside the bedroom, he'd be critical of your fashion choices.

He'll dress you up whenever the two of you are going out, and he'll definitely hire people to take care of your hair and make-up.

"You don't like that dress? Too bad sweetheart, I already bought it for you."

(Then again, you can just threaten him with no oral, and watch him going through 5 stages of grief before he agrees with everything you say)

Aside from that, I don't think he'd do it to control you, he just wants you to have the best of everything. Because if he can't provide it to you, then what the hell is he doing?

Alejandro

As a Mexican man, he can't resist moving his body in one way or another.

Meaning, he loves to dance.

It'd be nice if you know how to dance, or at least what his dance means, but if not, he'd definitely teach you.

Think of a bird dancing as a way of courting, and you'll see his way of thinking.

He wouldn't woo you with words (although, he does have a silver tongue), or with kisses (not really, he's a great kisser as well), instead, he'd use his body to communicate his desire.

The easiest 'dance' that you can understand, is when he presses his hips onto your ass, as he sways your body—gently, and side to side—with him.

If you're not familiar with dances, worry not, he'll make sure you understand them by the end of the night.

If he pulls you to dance with him, it means he finds you interesting. If he lets you take the stage, he thinks you're beautiful. If he presses your body together, then he wants you. It's not that hard to decipher, since he's very eager to show it.

(While he prefers dancing with upbeat music, he's down for slow dancing to soft music)

You joked to him that he's always changing whenever he started to dance, and he replied with a smirk, "For better or worse?" He asked, and you couldn't answer.

Because not only he became the biggest tease, he also gave you memorabilia, in the form of copious lovemarks on your neck.

Have I ever told you that this man is obsessed with your neck?

He'd press his nose against the nape of your neck, muttering, "You'll make a slave out of me." Before placing his lips on your skin.

He likes to kiss your shoulder as well. He'd do it anywhere and everywhere, that it's become his second favorite place to kiss after your lips.

Whenever he stands behind you, you'll always catch him pressing his lips on your shoulder, absent-mindedly.

I think he's pretty much the king of body worship. Sadly, I can't describe every little thing he does to you, so I'll just leave the rest to your imagination <3

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #graves x reader #alejandro x reader #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #you can easily tell who my bias is

[justjams2003]

Cuddles for Breakfast

Happy father’s day, and to all those without fathers I hope you make the best of this day. This is here for a little celebration!

Pairing: Henry Cavill x wife!reader

Summary: You and your daughter surprise Henry for father’s day.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word count: 562

Her name is Sophia, it seemed so obvious when you held her in your hands for the first time. Henry agreed instantly. It was just something in her violently curly black hair and a button nose that just screamed Sophia. And before you knew she’s already three years old.  

She’s grown up to be a confident little girl. Like said, she has Henry’s unruly black curls and his intense blue eyes. But your husband swears up and down that she has your attitude. A sharp tongue and even wiser than anyone outside your family would know.  

“How do you feel, pretty girl?” You ask, watching as she analysis the hairdo you had done for her. “It’s perfect, Mommy.” Her eyes shine bright and she flashes you a smile directly stolen from your husband. You can’t help yourself and pepper kisses all over her little face. Watching her little button nose scrunch up.  

A giggle pours out of the bathroom before you press your finger against your lip. “Shh, my smart girl, you’re gonna’ wake Papa up.” You wink at her as her eyes grow big and she shakes her head. Then you scoop her up and place her on your hip.  

“Are you going to carry the presents, while Moma brings the food?” You explain, watching when you put her down and she pets Kal, who absolutely adores her. She mumbles an agreement and grabs the present. She scolds ever so slightly when he almost makes her trip.  

You give her the go-ahead when you finally reach the bedroom. Both of you seem to stop and admire him sleeping so peacefully. His broad form takes up most of the bed. His chest rise and fall and his own curls splayed across his cushion and forehead.  

That is quickly interrupted by Soph running and jumping on the bed. “Papa, papa! Wake up, wake up!” She screams with glee, seeing out so much to this. Since you told her what you were planning, she’s been ‘planning’ with you.  

Now, finally, that the time has come she is just bouncing with excitement. Henry’s blue eyes snap open, thinking the worst before seeing his little girl beam down at him. His hands reach up and grab her, also peppering her with kisses.  

“Good morning, my two most special girls.” He beams at you, gently grabbing your arm after you place the breakfast tray in his lap. Placing affable kissing on your wrist. “And why am I being so spoiled this morning?” He asks little Sophia, pulling her close into his side.  

“Happy Father’s Day, papa!” she grins handing him her present package. He can already feel the tears forming. He never thought that this would happen. That he would be in such a position to have two of his own beautiful girls pampering him.  

“Really?” He canvases your facial expression, still struggling to believe that this is his life. “Yes, papa. Open your present.” His little girl answers for you and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no. He does as instructed, cooing and praising Sophia for her many Father’s Day paintings and drawings, all covered with glitter of course.  

Then he pulls out the new Warhammer painting set, limited edition, you got him and a fancy bottle of decades-old Bourbon. And after that, he shares his breakfast and cuddles his girls close.  

#henry cavill #henry cavill dad #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill drabble #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x wife!reader #dad!henry cavill #dad!henry cavill x reader

[xylomane]

𝙎𝙤... 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚...

Ft. Diluc Ragnvindr Context: You're bored after he left for work and he called you somewhere at night to ask if you want anything from the malls since he just so happened to stop by one. Teasingly and craving for naught, you ask him to buy you a lingerie. You wonder just what kind he'll pick. Does he even know those...?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ｄｉｌｕｃ

"Huh? what's wrong? It's just a lingerie, you're the one with a problem not me." You say nonchalantly through the phone. "B-but listen, okay? I'm not good at this and even if I am-" You dropped the call, not even motivated to listen to anymore of his stammers. He's cute but still. It's been fifteen minutes since you requested him for a lingerie and he's still not convinced to agree? How will you know his favorites now?You can't wait another day. You needed to know his preferences.

Diluc knew to himself that he really didn't mean to disappoint. He just... never saw himself suitable for these kinds of things. He is a gentleman of course, with a name and a status to protect. He can't just show up in a lingerie store and attract some attention, his sex life would be questioned if somebody were to recognize him. (Diluc is famously known as the son of the founder of the most successful wine company in the entire world)

Diluc, knowing himself as a pleaser, didn't want to disappoint you any further so he sends you a text to assure you that he'll make it happen: "I'm sorry darling, I promise I'll get you one. I hope it is to your liking." The moment he hits the 'send' button, he rubs his face and sighs.

Diluc goes straight back inside his black car to drive to one of his most trusted tailors. He has given them many commisions regarding clothing before, and they always come out stunning. He let himself relax over the cushioned seat of his car, picturing whatever kind of reaction you'll have on your face until he arrived at the pavement before the tailor's building.

Diluc tried. He really did. He declined the offer for a designer because he wanted the lingerie designed only by him. If he were to still get a designer for it, it might take a day or two before it gets finished. Plus... it's a little... embarrassing. Diluc gets uneasy just by thinking about it.

Diluc needed it done by midnight and it's currently 10:00pm. He knew he needed to hurry but now that he himself, being known to always have a phrase ready on any occasion, had been explaining for about half an hour to a tailor that felt like he was suddenly speaking gibberish, there's no doubt that the chances of making the lingerie might be delayed.

Finally, the tailor sighed at him, exasperated with all the mind work to understand his stammers. She simply told him, "Paper and pencil. Show me when ready." And she hands him two objects that made Diluc's confidence stutter.

Diluc stares at the paper and he feels his cheeks burn with shame. It felt like his confidence just depleted. He knows full well she's just as stressed as he is because, hearing himself, the conversation did not make any sense. But was it really that bad...? Where the tailor even needed visual aid FROM HIM because he sucked at explaining what he wanted? Diluc isn't one to drown himself in shame anymore, so to save face for himself, he actually got to work.

The tailor had been observing the young man behind the rims of her eyeglasses and goodness- she can tell this man is holding back. At some point, as she stuck different pins on a gown of her own design, she contemplated whether she'd rather ask him what he would like to see on a woman in bed or why he wants to see that on a woman in bed. In the end, she waves the thoughts way. None of her business.

Diluc started drawing, straps and laces here and there... rose patterns? Not bad. Is the crotch area too thin? He asks himself then resorts to erasing the entire sketch of the bottom garment away. Is the fabric transparent? Diluc's eyebrows point down. But... that's a little too... he felt his hands reach to cuddle his length, goodness how is he supposed to-

Diluc really wanted something, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable so he kept holding himself back and doubting each design. Even when Diluc's head spiraled with ideas, he didn't know which one of these ideas intrigue you the most.

At this point, Diluc doesn't really know where to begin with anymore, his tried everything and it's almost been an hour. He didn't want to delay the lingerie any longer so he just followed his heart in the process. Ok... ribbons. Ribbons? Is that too weird on a lingerie? Surely not. Red lace ribbons? There? Yes, his mind liked those. Attached on what color though? Maybe something baby pink or peach. He needed them in two pieces of course.

Finally, he folded the paper unequally to four, stuffed it in his pocket, and then reached for the tailor to whom he finally said the design to. He didn't hold himself back this time and openly told her of how he wanted the lingerie to look. He wasn't planning to show it, but ended up showing it anyway.

"Good thing you got it done..." The tailor told him, letting out a sigh of relief as she placed measurements on a mannequin. "You sure have grown Master Diluc."

Diluc froze at that phrase. She's not lying nor is she wrong. All Diluc really wanted to feel was the lust in the look of you... breedable and inexperienced before him but of course he can't say that so he realized that after all these thoughts, he cannot talk back. He can't. Like, really. It made him feel so awkward that he had to think of an excuse to get out of the establishment. "I'll wait by the car." He excuses, "Just call me when it's ready. Make sure it's done before midnight." And they assure him that it is to be done quickly for the fabrics have already been chosen for the lingerie.

The tailor throws him one last curious stare behind her eyeglasses and then brings her hand to sew and get back to work while musing the unexpected request. (Last Christmas, Diluc asked the tailor to make a dress for you so she already knows your size)

When Diluc got into his car, he brought both his gloved hands to his face. What. A. Night. He didn't know it was THAT hard to think of a lingerie for you. All those thinking of how you would look on those or how it might terrify you really took a toll on him. He can't disappoint you. He mustn't.

Five minutes of breathing exercises and he would soon realize how less embarassing it actually is. Now that he thinks about it, you probably asked him to buy you a lingerie to see what he wants... if that's the case... then he didn't regret his final design. So long as the lingerie compliments your body and keeps you confident in bed he can just-

Diluc felt himself slightly aroused on his seat. He needed to get home. He opened his phone screen and it greets him with the current time: 11:17pm. Suddenly, there was a knock on his car window. Fortunately, it was the tailor's assistant, telling him to go see the finished product inside. He follows the man towards the establishment and when he does see it, he calmly accepts it.

Diluc got home at around 11:40pm and you were already laying asleep on the bed. Laughingly though, your fingers are way too close to your undergarments and Diluc can't help but muster a chuckle upon seeing you so innocently sleeping after maybe, pleasuring yourself. When he wakes you up, you realize you had accidentally fallen asleep after-

You tried to explain to him, throwing lies upon another lie, until Diluc shows you the custom-made lingerie he prepared for you. Your face burned red as he threw them on your hands. "Wear it." He tells you, "See for yourself." His voice is slightly gruff and yet it is calm and soft. You put it on inside the bathroom and... it had you speechless. The theme is cute but so... revealing. Is Diluc really... into this? The good boy, easily flustered, reserved Diluc you know? Shyly and awkwardly, you walk out of the bathroom.

"Everything is see through..." You mumble and Diluc trails his lips just on your neck to whisper, "You asked for my preferences, didn't you?" His voice was rough with warm heavy breaths tickling your skin. His hands reach to touch the back of your waist and pull you closer.

That night, Diluc was rough but aftercare was still done on both of you. (am legit blushing like a slut here lmfaooo)

Kazuha ver. here

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc imagines #genshin impact diluc #diluc x fem!reader #diluc headcanons #diluc au #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n

[andy-wm]

I have thoughts about the Watch with Jimin livestream...

How do i love thee? Let me count the ways...

I did in fact do some counting. I counted Jimin's blink rate during the almost two minutes he watched JK recording the back-up vocals for Letter to Army. And yes, it was a labour of love, especially since I don't enjoy numbers... they're tricksy squirmy little gremlins that do sneaky things like divide themslves in two, or become imaginary.

But for the sake of science and Jikookery, I counted how many times - and when - Jimin blinked during this sequence.

Overall, nothing unusual to report. The average number of times a person blinks in a minute is approximately 15. In the 1m55s of video I captured, Jimin blinked 33 times. Unremarkable.

Except...

The pattern of how much he blinked changed markedly depending on who was on screen.

When Jmin was watching himself, he blinked far more than when he was watching JK. Frequent blinking can be a sign of stress, and there were a number of other clues too, that Jimin wasn't all that comfortable watching himself: giggling, hiding his face, selfconsciously flicking his hair, playing with his hands etc etc.

When JK was on screen Jimin sat still, his gaze fixed on JK. Often his mouth fell open just a little, his lips parted as though he was entranced. In fact, during the first 20 seconds of the footage when he's leaning forward staring intently at JK, he only blinks 4 times.

And that's a clue to another factor at play here...

There's a phenomenon in the psychology of attraction called a COPULATORY GAZE. When someone stares intently at a person they find attractive, that's what it's called.

It's a COPULATORY GAZE.

So it's not just a minor fascination he has going on, or a bit of focused admiration.

Translated to the coloquial, I guess you could call it EYE FUCKING.

Yes, eye fucking is a scientific phenomenon.

But wait, there's more...

Towards the end of this segment of Watch With Jimin, when JK is done recording and he and Jimin are on screen together, something happens to our dear Jiminie on the livestream.

It involves a bit of eye fucking and lip licking (licking, tongue movement, swallowing, all necessary to deal with the saliva that accumulates in your mouth when you're aroused.) Yes, it seems our boy has a visceral response watching the doco, particularly when JK plays around with him on screen.

JK says he's going to feature in Jimin's concert, and he then moves towards Jimin and says (you can't make this stuff up istg) "I will do this behind you." Right, he's just talking about singing the back up vocals.

Jimin is absolutely transfixed though. He swallows with some difficulty. His chest is visibly rising and falling. He's breathing hard and I'm sure that's not all.

Now realistically we've seen them flirt and tease each other so many times that what they're doing in that studio isn't even worth mentioning. And we know Jimin pushes JK's buttons on screen far more than this, apparently just for fun. So why is this little te-ta-te getting Jimin all hot and bothered (because there's no question, that is what's happening).

There's only one thing i can think of.

It's because he's watching it on screen.

I cannot think of ANY other reason that this lukewarm bit of playfulness would make him literally breathless.

And ya know, because i'm a dirty boy with a wild imagination, this leads me to think of all those times they've flirted onscreen...

Does Jimin go home and watch Bangtan TV clips and get all shook up?

Is he bookmarking all the YT complilations of him and JK doing questionable things, and using them for his own nefarious purposes?

I don't even want to think about the footage that gets deleted, the stuff that's too risque to put in a Bangtan Bomb. I picture Jimin scooping it up off the cutting room floor and stuffing down his shirt to smuggle home.

And what about all the on-stage shenanigans at concerts? Kitty Gang Jimin comes to mind immediately.

Does he search for fancams - from LY Hong Kong maybe - and use them to cam his fan in the privacy of his bedroom?

Ok, I've reached that invisble line.... I'm going to stop RIGHT HERE.

You can decide for yourselves whether our mochi has a lil bit of an exhibitionist streak - whether the thought of doing questionable things in public with his buff boytoy revs his engine.

I'll leave you with this nugget of barely suppressed lust, and I'm not just talking about the goings-on on stage. The whole vibe of this concert is feral. I am forever sorry to have missed this one...

(The two women in the bottom right corner are amost as entertaining as the boys imo... pretty sure one of them drops their army bomb haha...)

#jeon jungguk #park jimin #jikook #kookmin #국민 #jungkook #true love #copulatory gaze #kitty gang jimin #Letter to Army #Jungkook vocals #watch with jimin #jimin documentary #jimin weverse live

[so-long-soldier-writes]

One of Those Days

poly!mikaelsons x reader | request

summary: between the constant fighting and city clamor, you're overstimulated from the minute you wake up. you try to isolate until you feel better, but sometimes, that only makes things worse. luckily, your loving vampire partners are always there for you.

tags: sensory issues, mental health, overstimulation, arguing, mild emotional hurt / comfort

word count: ~2.6k

a/n: requested by @asexualaromosafezone - i am SO SORRY this took me literal months to complete. a couple days ago, i suddenly remembered i never filled it and finished it asap. i hope you like it, and again, so many apologies!

Sometimes, you wake up, and can immediately tell it’ll be a hard day. The sun has barely risen, yet there’s already a million noises coming through your window. Chatters of people having their morning walks, car horns from those too impatient to let them cross, the distant clang of a dropped pot, and-

“REBEKAHHH!”

-Klaus, yelling for his sister. At seven in the morning. 

“What the bloody hell are you shouting for?! I’m right here!”

You sigh, glad that mystery solved quickly.

There’s probably a few more minutes until your alarm rings, so instead of getting up a little earlier, you opt to enjoy your last minutes of peace. Though you soon realize that’s impossible, given your circumstances. On top of the city sounds, there’s a bird right outside your window, and when you try to turn away from it, the tag on your blanket itches the inside of your thigh. 

“Ugh!” You toss the blanket off. 

Your alarm sounds not a second later. 

With a slap to your phone and then another to your forehead, you decide to just get ready for the day. Luckily, not much is planned. Marcel still has control over the city, and with you being human, your Mikaelson hosts don’t want you outside at all. 

See, you live with the family of original vampires. You used to be a Mystic Falls’ resident, but then after developing a close connection with the siblings, decided to move to New Orleans with them and get a fresh start. You were tired of the small town life, and while the big city can be overwhelming at times, you’ll never get sick of the culture it has to offer. Besides, living with the most powerful family makes you happier than you ever believed you could be. 

As much as you love them, though, they can be a pain. Like when Klaus can’t find his sister, but forgets a whisper would summon her just as effectively. Instead, he has to wake up the whole quarter, and inconvenience you with a headache. When you reach the dining room that day, you slump your head on the table. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Kol’s voice floats over your head, making you aware of his presence. 

“Tired.”

“Is your bed comfortable enough? Do you need more blankets?”

You haven’t been in the city long, and his consideration warms your heart. 

“Oh, I’m okay. I’m very comfy. Just haven’t gotten used to the city yet.”

“Ah, I understand.”

His attention drifts to his sister. You busy yourself with a plate of food and ignore how tired you feel. When Elijah sits beside you, you offer a smile, but don’t say anything. The man, polite as ever, does the same. Though while two of the siblings are quiet, the other two aren’t. Klaus and Rebekah are still on the same topic from earlier. They bounce off each other quickly, childish banter turning into an argument.

You try to eat in peace and ignore them, but it’s difficult. And it doesn’t help that you’ve been feeling down lately, anyway. It’s rather unexplainable, the way you feel. Some days you’d rather stay in bed all day than face the world. Your whole body could be begging for you to get up and get things done, but you just can’t. No matter how hard you fight your own mind, sometimes there’s no winning the raging war. 

To make matters worse, you’re always hypersensitive when you find yourself in these low moods. Every little thing is overstimulating and there’s no pause button. This morning, you didn’t even get a chance to wake up before the sounds started. (Thanks, Klaus.) You roll your eyes in your head, annoyed. 

“Hey.” A poke to your shoulder startles you, making you jump. “You okay?” 

“Ooh, you caught me off guard.”

“Sorry,” Kol smiles, “you in deep thought, or rolling your eyes at Klaus’ statement?”

“Uh…” You bite your lip. You were rolling your eyes about Klaus, but missed whatever statement it was that he just made. “What did he say?”

“That he was on his way to have a little chat with Marcel. That will go swimmingly.”

“Oh.” You snort and decide to joke. “Both.”

Kol grins at you, but then, thankfully, leaves you alone again. 

After breakfast, you retreat back into your room, not in the mood to face the day. If Klaus is really going to start shit with Marcel, it’ll be an intense day. You’ve never met the current king of the French Quarter, but Elijah’s told stories. Marcel and the family used to be close, but then, like all their other relationships, ties ended drastically. 

“But not with you, of course,” he had promised. “You’re our girl.”

You were skeptical for a moment. Who wouldn’t be, knowing the Mikaelsons? But then Klaus approached you from behind with a kiss to your hair and confirmed his brother’s words,

“As long as we have your loyalty, you’ll always have ours.”

You could see the truth in his statement. Everyone who ended up on their bad side had betrayed them in some way. So, as long as you didn’t repeat others’ mistakes; as long as you kept your trust in the family, you would be considered family. And ever since the day you first grew close, you have been their family. 

You’re close with all of the siblings. Elijah, first, when you couldn’t take your eyes off him at Damon’s dinner party. Then Rebekah, and then Kol, when he undaggered. Even Finn, before his untimely death - thanks to Matt, your good friend now worst enemy. Klaus took the longest to trust you, and you can’t blame him for having trust issues, but once he realized how much his siblings adored you, he was quick to accept your place with them. 

Now, the five of you live together, nine hundred miles from your hometown. It’s certainly a change, but every day with them is an adventure.

Like today, you suddenly think, overhearing Elijah’s footsteps in the hallway. Today has definitely been one of those days. 

“Y/N?” He stops outside your door.

“Mhm?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Elijah opens the door, but doesn’t fully enter your room. He looks you up and down before smiling. “I just thought you seemed sad earlier and wanted to check on you. Is everything okay?”

“Oh!” You put on a brave face to mask the tiredness you feel internally. “Yeah, I’m just out of sorts today. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because if someone’s bothering you, that’s something we can take care of.”

“No, no, I promise. It’s all just me. Just having a day.”

“You’re positive?” He asks for confirmation again.

“Have I ever lied to you, ‘Lijah?”

He looks down at his shoes, embarrassed. “No, you haven’t. I apologize for doubting you.”

“It’s okay,” you step closer to him, resting against the door frame. “No need to apologize. But I swear, I just… woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something. New Orleans is a loud city. I’m still adjusting.”

“Okay. Well, call if you need anything. Even the smallest thing.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and be careful in the off-chance that Marcel storms in here. There’s a fight brewing in the quarter.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Better yet, stay inside for the day. So you’re not in harm’s way at all.”

“Okay, ‘Lijah.”

He smiles at you, then kisses your hand. “Now, I need to neutralize my brother. But I needed to make sure our girl was okay first.”

“She’s okay. Go deal with him.”

Elijah straightens his collar before speeding off to no doubt defend his brother in a fight. You love Klaus, but man, does he get angry. And then from anger, comes pure rage, then absolute chaos. Once situations escalate that far, the whole block better hide if they want to keep their hearts in their chest. 

You sigh, thinking of the carnage that may come. You’re not sure you can deal with his anger issues today, especially not coupled with those of Marcel. Of all the days they have to fight, it’s the one that you might snap, too, if he raises his voice one more time. 

Suddenly, your bed looks like the perfect oasis away from the mess behind your door. A good pillow over the ears might prevent an impending meltdown. You crawl into it at once and let your body melt into the mattress. 

You hadn’t lied to Elijah, though you hadn’t given him the full truth, either. Yes, you are, in general, okay. Not necessarily today, but at that moment, you were. Also yes, you’re not feeling great today, partly because of all the city noise. And, finally, yes, most of it is just you and your body not in the mood to be awake. Though Klaus is contributing, just a little bit, to your mental distress today. Elijah would understand, of course, but then he’d have a talk with his brother about it, and you really didn’t want to burden either of them in that way, so you put on a smile and didn’t mention it. You’d bet Elijah knows the full truth, and knows why you won’t admit it, but he respects you if you don’t want to talk about it. That’s one of the reasons you love him so much. 

You get a couple hours of rest until your slumber is interrupted by a new knock on your door. It’s not soft, like Elijah’s, so it must be one of the younger two. 

“Oh no,” you mutter, wondering what it must be now.

“Y/N?” Rebekah’s voice comes from the other side. “Are you awake?”

“I am now.” 

She opens the door as you reply. “Oh what the bloody hell are you still doing in bed?”

“Sleeping.”

“Obviously! Come watch a movie with Kol and I! We’d love your company.”

“An actual movie, or the public display of violence happening outside in the quarter?”

“We haven’t decided yet!” She grabs your hand. “Come on!”

You yawn. “I’m gonna pass today, I’m not up for it.”

“Awh, Y/N! It won’t be as fun without you!”

“I have a headache, Bex,” you fib. 

“Do you want some blood for that?”

“Does that even work like that?”

She shrugs, “not sure.”

You cuddle into your pillow. “Another time, okay?”

The girl smiles, then leans forward to kiss your head. “Okay. If you change your mind, come find us.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Dinner’s at seven. Will you be there?”

“Yeah,” you promise, “I should be better by then.”

You are not, in fact, better by then. If anything, your foul mood progressed into an actual headache within thirty minutes of Rebekah leaving. Shouts throughout the city managed to penetrate the thin glass of your windows, and you could hear almost everything as Klaus heckled the current king. For hours, it went on, until the sun went down and they assumedly put it off for another day. By seven o’clock, you were able to sneak in another nap, but you still felt way overstimulated from the day’s events. 

Not to mention the fact that you spent all day in bed. Sometimes, you’re overstimulated by too much going on, but today you partly did it to yourself by hiding away all day. The guilt of avoiding everyone weighs on your chest. Rebekah had invited you to a movie; Elijah went out of his way to check up on you, and you had more or less dismissed them both. A bitter taste sits in your mouth when you think about it. Water doesn’t wash it out.

Hopefully dinner will. 

For the first ten minutes, the night passes peacefully. Most of the conversation is focused between the meal and the movie the two had watched. The events of the day, seemingly, are left in the past.

But then, of course, Kol has to make a comment on something he overheard that he thought was funny. And that set Klaus off into a spewing of anger. He’s pissed at Marcel, but now, also, at Kol for bringing it up. Elijah puts his face in his hands, and Rebekah sends both a huge eye roll. 

What was a moment of much-appreciated silence is now a yelling match. After five minutes, you reach your breaking point. 

“Why do you feel the need to comment on that, Kol? It was so insignificant, but you’ve felt the need to bring it up, and now I’m reminded of how much Marcel has done to piss me off!”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, bloody hell! I thought it was funny!”

“It wasn’t funny to me when he was spitting in my face! I-”

“Oh my god! Are you ever not arguing?!” You suddenly shout. 

The table goes silent and all eyes are on you. A needle could be dropped and it would be heard across the quarter. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize quickly, embarrassed.

“Love,” Elijah puts a hand on your shoulder, “are you alright?”

At his touch, you flinch. He retracts his hand quickly, but doesn’t move his body away from its proximity to yours. 

Klaus, although upset at the interruption, notices this and calms a little. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“That little outburst didn’t sound like nothing.”

“I’m just stressed.”

“Darling, what’s got you all upset? Tell us and we’ll sort it out now.”

“It’s no one, Kol, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Still have a headache, sweetheart?” Rebekah asks. 

“You have a headache?” Klaus butts in. 

The assortment of questions makes you drop your head. It nearly hits the table, but Elijah grabs your frame before you can fall. Tears form in your eyes, visibly. 

“I’m just really overstimulated today. I woke up weird and this city is loud, and then there was all the fighting all day long, and then I hid in my room all day, but then I felt bad about hiding, and now I’m making you all worried because I can’t get my shit under control!”

“And that’s your fault, how?” Elijah asks, “you cannot blame yourself for the way you feel.”

“But I need to handle my emotions better. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies necessary, love,” Klaus adds, “I certainly haven’t helped, fighting with children all day.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah warns, but Klaus doesn’t argue with him this time. 

“I should’ve stayed with you when you said you had a headache.”

“Don’t blame yourself either, Bex. It’s not your fault.”

“But we could’ve cuddled,” she frowns.

“It’s okay. I got a nap, and it helped a little. I just need to get used to my life being different now. None of you are at fault.”

“Nor are you,” the eldest reminds, “it’s been quite a day for us all.”

Kol clears his throat, “say, after dinner, if you feel up to it, we could all watch a movie and cuddle around you? I think some comfort is much needed.”

“Sure,” you agree, “but I might fall asleep during it.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles. He then stands up to hug you, but when his arms wrap around your neck, you freeze.

“Not yet, please. I’m still a bit stressed.”

He gives you a wink. “Of course, darling. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Klaus flicks his napkin across the table. He’s folded it into the shape of a heart. “We love you. You know that, right?”

You take the heart, kiss it, and put it in your pocket. “I do. I love you all, too. Thanks for understanding.”

#poly!mikaelsons x reader #poly!mikaelsons #elijah mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #tw mental health #i feel so bad for taking so long on this

[yanderecrazysie]

Asmodeus NSFW Yandere Alphabet

I’m in a NSFW mood today, sorry minors.

WARNINGS: yandere themes, very NSFW, mentions of non-con

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He likes to cuddle after sex sometimes. He is always the big spoon and loves to hump your butt a little to make himself hard again for round two. He’ll also run a bath for you to clean up when you’re both done.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For you, he thinks you have a cute butt. He loves the way it jiggles when you walk and loves to run his palm over the curve of your ass cheeks. He wouldn’t say no to big boobs either. For himself, he likes everything about himself, but especially his dick. It’s the part that gets the most pleasure and he likes how it looks. The avatar of lust has the perfect cock, after all.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Asmodeus’s cum tastes delicious- like, way better than it ever should. That’s a perk of being the avatar of lust. He cums a medium amount, just enough to fill you up, but not enough to overflow. His cum is also not too thick but not too watery. Basically, he’s literally perfect.

D: Dirty Secret

Asmodeus is super sensitive on his back. He loses control over himself if you touch his back and might do something he regrets later. It’s just something about the way your soft hands touch his spine that instantly gets him hard as a rock.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Asmodeus is very experienced. As the avatar of lust, he’s put many women, and even some men, under his spell. Witches are his favorite, but humans are just as fun to play around with, and he’s fucked plenty of both. He hasn’t gone for any angels though, and very few demons.

F: Favorite Position

Asmodeus prefers missionary because he can look down at you while still taking all of the control. He loves seeing his reflection in your wide eyes and loves snapping his hips into yours to see your mouth open in long drawn-out moans. He doesn’t mind cowgirl either, as long as you let him take control.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

Asmodeus isn’t exactly joking as much as he is teasing. You love me so much, don’t you? You’re moaning just for me, you cute little thing. You’re in the splash zone, cutie pie. He plays around with you just like a demon does with their prey. He’ll purr these things into your ear as he plays with your pretty pussy.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Asmodeus keeps himself well groomed, as he thinks it’s important to take care of. He doesn’t shave it all the way, just long enough to be noticeable but not a turn off. It’s the same color as his hair and doesn’t travel up to his belly button like it does for a lot of people (in fact, he barely has body hair).

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Asmodeus may tease you, but he’s actually very loving and caring. He makes sure you’re soaking the sheets before he even attempts to enter you and his goal is to make you orgasm as much as possible. He’s also very romantic, sprinkling rose petals around the room and running you a hot bubble bath for when you both are done having your fun.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Asmodeus doesn’t masturbate. If he feels in the mood, which is often, he goes and finds someone to fuck. Of course, when he falls in love with you, you’re the only one he seeks out to satisfy his urges. If he can’t have you, he’ll just stay pent up until he can.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Asmodeus likes dressing up like a girl sometimes- having sex in a dress or wearing pink panties before you start your fun. He also likes stealing your own panties so he can sniff them later. Just to remember you by, of course.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Asmodeus is adventurous. While he likes doing the deed at home (because he can set it up and make it romantic), he’s not afraid to fuck in public. He especially likes the park and movie theater. It gives him a rush like nothing else.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to turn Asmodeus on. If you touch his back, the effect is instant, but if you don’t, all he needs is you both alone in a room together before he’s whining for you to agree to having sex with him. He’s a needy man and the avatar of lust, so just about everything turns him on. Even nothing at all.

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Asmodeus isn’t a sadist- he would never hurt you on purpose. He might have a tiny bit of masochism in him, but he has not an ounce of sadism. He could never whip you or degrade you or anything like that.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Asmodeus loves both giving and receiving, but he likes giving just a little more. He’s very experienced with eating girls out, so you’ll quickly find that he hits all the right spots with ease. For receiving, he doesn’t mind if you’re inexperienced, he’s happy to guide you into giving him a good experience.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

Asmodeus is slow and sensual, holding you close as he rolls his hips, grinding deep inside of you. He thrusts lightly, not aiming for your cervix but for your g-spot. He doesn’t go hard when he finds it, just keeps a gentle rhythm. Sometimes he rubs at your clit during sex.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

Asmodeus doesn’t do fast. He loves to draw it out, take as much time as he needs. A quickie is almost an insult to him. It feels like a quickie means throwing away all the hard work for just a lousy bit of sex. He doesn’t really mind when others do it, but it’s not for him.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) 

Asmodeus is willing to try almost anything, but he’s pretty consistent when it comes to sex. He knows what works for him and what doesn’t. If you want to try something new, then great! He’ll do it as long as it doesn’t hurt you.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Asmodeus has basically unlimited stamina. Like an incubus, he grows stronger from sex. He likes to cum at the same time you do, but if he chose not to, he could go as long as he felt like. He loves to do multiple rounds to send you into overstimulation, but he’ll go easy on you if you ask him to.

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Asmodeus doesn’t have any toys for himself, since he doesn’t masturbate, but he does have a vibrator he uses on you sometimes and a feather he likes to tickle your skin with. Other than that, his toy drawer is empty.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Asmodeus likes to tease quite a bit. He’ll get you to the brink of orgasm, then stop. He wants you to beg for him to make you cum and he’s good at what he does. Don’t worry though, when you give in, he’ll give you the best orgasms of your life.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Asmodeus is loud. He moans like a pornstar and sometimes lets out a giggle when he sees your eyes roll back in your head. He doesn’t grunt or groan, it’s definitely moaning. He just likes to show you how he feels!

W: With or without consent (Non-con or consensual?)

Asmodues prefers consent so, so much. He wants you looking into his eyes as he fucks you, not crying or looking away. However, if you reject him, and he knows you’re off limits, he may just kidnap you because he desperately needs relief and he can’t turn to masturbation or other girls.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Asmodeus is just an inch bigger than average and his girth is the same story. But his cock is so pretty and has no visible veins running down the side. It’s a pretty shade of pink and is without any blemishes. It curves a little upwards, which helps him hit your g-spot.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Asmodeus could have sex with you multiple times every day if he wanted, but he knows you might not be up for that. Since he doesn’t masturbate, it builds up over time until he has to get some release. Then, he’ll fuck you until you’re too tired to move.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Asmodeus sometimes runs a bath for the both of you, but right afterwards, it’s cuddling and sleeping on his bed. He gets a little smile on his face in his sleep and it’s actually really cute. He falls asleep either at about the same time as you or slightly after.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere alphabet #tw noncon #yandere asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #yandere obey me #obey me