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asahicore · 1 year

Text

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money.

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty.

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over.

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice.

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house.

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples.

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior.

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms.

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts.

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away.

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of.

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly.

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic.

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care.

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein.

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.”

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right?

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us.

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well.

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice.

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you.

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them.

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss.

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor.

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table.

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you.

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy.

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style.

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly.

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax.

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?”

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn.

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines

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everparanoid · 5 months

Text

how genshin men hug you

various genshin men x gn! reader

characters: Alhaitham, Diluc, Itto, Neuvillette, Wriothesley

Alhaitham isn’t one for hugs, but he’s not against you snuggling into him as he reads, seated between his legs. You might have to ask him several times for a hug, and more often than not, you’ll be met with a ‘no’. However, on those rare occasions when he’s feeling tired and lazy, he might just pull you into a hug as he lounges around. If you try to talk while he’s resting his head on yours, he’ll shush you, not wanting his break to be disturbed. So, with Alhaitham, it’s less about the hugs and more about quiet, shared moments.

Diluc is a man of few words, but his hugs speak volumes. He may be reserved, even in private, but he won’t hesitate to give you a hug if you ask. He might not initiate them often, but he does enjoy these moments of closeness with you. His hugs are warm and comforting, making you feel safe and cherished. They might not last long, but they’re always memorable. If you were to hug him when he returns from defending Mondstadt in the middle of the night, he would welcome you into his side. He’d wrap an arm around you gently, allowing you to listen to his steady heartbeat, a reassuring reminder that he’s returned safely.

Itto is a true enthusiast when it comes to hugs. He’s the kind of person who will envelop you in a warm, enthusiastic embrace, regardless of where you are. Public or private, it doesn’t matter to him. His hugs are playful and full of energy. He’ll lift you off the ground, spinning you around in a whirl of joy. Especially after a rare victory in a Beetle Brawl, you can expect a celebratory hug from him. His hugs are innocent and endearing, often accompanied by a wide grin and exuberant cheers of happiness. It’s clear that Itto enjoys these moments of shared joy just as much as you do. His hugs are not just an expression of affection, but a testament to his vibrant and joyful spirit.

Neuvillette is a man who is reserved and formal, and he’s not familiar with the concept of a hug, even though he’s seen them during his time in Fontaine. The first time you hug him, it might be a bit awkward until he gets used to the close contact. Every time Neuvillette hugs you, it’s gentle and cautious, as if he’s still trying to figure out the correct way to do it. He doesn’t often ask for hugs, but when it starts to rain, that’s your sign that he could use one. His hugs can be unusually long because he doesn’t understand the socially acceptable duration for a hug, and you don’t want to correct him. Alternatively, they can be short but meaningful. If he’s feeling down, he might hold on a bit longer, and of course, you’re perfectly fine with that.

Wriothesley is a man who cherishes private moments of closeness. He’s the type to give you a full-body hug, much like the comforting embrace of a teddy bear. If he happens to retire to bed before you, he might fall asleep on top of you, his arms wrapped around your waist. More often than not, you’ll already be asleep when he comes to bed. In these instances, he’ll spoon you into his arms, providing a sense of security and warmth. While he may not be one for overt public displays of affection, when it’s just the two of you, he’s all about the hugs. You might often find yourself sitting in his lap as he reads the newspaper, one arm casually draped over your stomach, his head resting on your shoulder. It seems that Wriothesley has a particular fondness for your body heat, especially in the chilly depths of Meropide.

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gucciwins · 4 days

Text

harry brings his girlfriend home to meet his family but it does not go as planned

word count: 5896

a/n: enjoy this story inspired by a lovely anon. happy reading, my sweet friends 💜

Y/N was nervous.

She squeezed Harry’s hand, trying to ground herself, but it seemed to transport her to the first time they met at the diner down the street from her apartment.

Going to university in Los Angeles wasn’t glamorous, not when she had endless bills to pay to keep a roof over her head. She had gone to Martha’s Cakes, a small diner ten minutes from her apartment that served the best hot chocolate. The food was good too but the hot chocolate is what she ordered each visit without fail. It’s a place she’d eat when Y/N had a bit of extra to spend on herself. Instead of buying herself new shoes, or another jelly cat bag charm (Otto, the sausage dog, went everywhere with her) she decided on eating a good meal that didn’t consist of ramen or buttered noodles. She came here when she needed a pick me up or simply wanted to have a nice conversation. It was a late Tuesday in the Spring. Where the sun took longer to come down, allowing her extra time at the bar to do assignments and chat with Antonio about the best produce sales. Y/N had her head down working on an essay due two weeks from now. It was based on one of Los Angeles buildings; it could be based on the oldest church to the Dodger Stadium. Y/N decided on the Avila Adobe residence. Known as the oldest standing residence in the City of Los Angeles. Olvera St. was a famous street and was filled with history. It was one of her favorite places to walk through.

As she was looking through photos, taking notes of significant dates, a patron sat next to her. Y/N didn’t bother seeing who it was, simply scooting her scattered papers closer to her, tucking a few under her laptop.

“It’s not bothering me.” A man spoke.

It startled Y/N only because he had a deep British voice. It felt odd to be hearing in such an unknown area.

“Darla would throw coffee on it if she saw I was bothering a customer.”

“I said it’s okay.”

Y/N laughs. “She would say it wasn’t.”

It seems the man lets it drop as he has nothing to reply. Y/N keeps up with updating her notes as she hears the man order a stack of the lemon poppy pancakes. Those were her favorite, Y/N would get them when she was having a bad day because it would without a fail make her smile. Y/N worked in silence over the next half hour when she felt the need to step to the restroom. Y/N did not want to pack up. Usually she asks a staff member to watch her items, but the diner seemed to be a bit busier. She looked around and her eyes landed on the pancake guy who had his headphones on. She hated bothering people, but he looked kind enough.

Y/N tapped next to his plate to get his attention. It worked because in seconds he slipped off his headphones and had turned his whole body to look at her. It gave her the chance to look at him fully for the first time. He had a buzz cut, and it looked really good. He had slight stubble, but what captured her attention were his bright jade eyes. It felt like he was staring deep into her soul.

“Do–uh–Would you please watch my stuff? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

“Course. Guard it with my life.”

Y/N thanked him and hurried away. When she came back, the man had slightly shifted over, his eyes staring intently at the dark screen of her laptop.

“Thank you,” she shot him a smile. Waking up her screen and getting back to her assignment, except she couldn’t get the man out of her head.

The dimples were something she focused on when he smiled, telling her it was no problem. Then his green eyes were so beautiful she felt she had seen them before. Though she could swear she had never met him before. She did have a weird feeling she had seen him before. Once it hit eight o’clock, Y/N knew it was time to call it. Y/N had her rough draft ready and could continue tomorrow. For now, she’d walk home and take a bath to wash away today’s day.

Y/N was packing up and could see the green-eyed gentleman was too. She would hate herself if she didn’t ask him where she knew him from, if she knew him. Y/N had her bag strapped on her shoulder and turned to him for the last time.

“Excuse me, sir?”

He turned, as if he was waiting to hear from her. “Yes?”

“How do I know you?”

The man’s smile dropped. He looked confused, so she didn’t know him.

“Don’t think we’ve met, until today, Y/N.”

Y/N’s frown deepens. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

He pointed to her bag. She looks down at the red stitching displaying her name. Well, now she looked dumb. Of course, he could read. “You look familiar to me. Sorry if that’s weird.”

The guy clears his throat, shaking his head. “I get that a lot.”

That’s odd, Y/N thought.

“I feel like I know you,” she tried one last time.

“Promise we don’t know each other. I would remember someone as beautiful as you.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped (not literally), but her face felt warm. Fuck, she was not expecting this turn of event. “Ha, uh. I want to say me too, but uh, there’s something familiar about you.”

Harry chuckles as if he knows something she doesn’t.

“Can I walk you out?” He asks.

She nods. He leaves a large tip and follows her to the exit. Y/N ways to Sonia, who shoots her thumbs up, but Y/N has no idea why. Y/N and the man linger outside the door, waiting to see who makes the first move.

“Well, uh, can I have your Instagram?” Y/N asks, not knowing if asking for his number was too forward. At least this way she could stalk him for a bit.

“Oh, I don’t use that. I can give you my number,” he counters.

Y/N perks up. “That works.” She hands him her phone where she watches his hands type in his phone number into her contacts. He hands her back her phone, and she looks at the newly added contact.

Harry S.

It seemed that’s all she needed for her to connect the dots. She lifts her head up and Harry has a flushed face. He didn’t look away from her, almost waiting to see what she’d say.

Y/N not sure how to break the silence. “Harry Sanchez?”

Harry laughs, and it’s all the confirmation Y/N needs. “More like Styles.”

“Oh.”

Did she fuck up her chances? She feels like she didn’t. She got his number.

“What can I use your number for?” She asks, wanting to double check. He still wants her to have it.

“Hopefully for us to plan a date.”

“Even after this,” she points between them as if to explain what they know just happened.

“I’d like to see where it could go.”

“Shit, uh. Well–I’m free Thursday.” Harry smirks, making her want to crawl in a hole because now she feels desperate. “I’m going to leave.”

Harry stops her by grabbing her hand. “I think Thursday is perfect. Are you up for a sunset dinner by the beach?”

“Sounds perfect,” she promised him.

“Good. Thursday it is.”

Now she is standing in front of his childhood home, about to meet his mother and older sister. Y/N had spoken to his mother, Anne, on the phone a few times, but his sister was always busy when Harry tried to pass her the phone. Harry promised her it would go well, but she feared the worst. Their story was genuine but to others could sound fabricated but come on, no one knows Martha’s cakes, it’s not even on Yelp. It’s a place once stumbled upon and then shares the magic with people in their life.

Harry said he felt like coffee and walked for a while until he saw people walk out. The smell of coffee is what drew him in, but the pretty girl he sat next to had him stay for hours. It’s something he shared months down the line. Y/N and Harry had now been together for nine months. Because of her Master’s Y/N had no time to travel. Harry visited home often, but Y/N couldn’t drop everything she was doing to go with him. He understood, but she felt his family wouldn’t. Harry met her dad and twin brothers six months into dating because they lived down in San Diego, only a two-hour drive from them. While Harry’s family lived an ocean away and she refused for him to pay for her flight to London. On top of that, she had classes and exams to worry about that did not allow her to hop on a flight for a week. Thankfully, she made it through the winter semester and had a few weeks off from her internship before going back for her last semester. Y/N knew graduation was just around the corner, and thankfully, had little debt to pay off.

Harry held her tight as he led her up the steps. Y/N was walking slower, trying to prolong the introduction. In her mind, she hoped she was simply psyching herself out and that things actually went well with Harry’s family. That they accepted her because they could see how much she loved him.

“You ready, Lovie?” Harry flashed her a dimpled grin.

Truthfully, she wanted to say no, but Y/N couldn’t do that to him. Not when he was bouncing with excitement. “Ready.” She confirmed.

Harry gave two loud knocks and then opened the front door. Y/N stood behind him as he rushed to embrace his mother. Anne was a sweet woman, much shorter than Harry, but by the tight embrace she held Harry, Y/N could tell she was strong.

Anne gave Harry two big kisses, one on each cheek, before turning her attention to Y/N.

“Y/N!” Anne cheered. She said it with so much delight, it surprised Y/N.

In a matter of seconds, someone tightly wrapped Y/N in a hug, which she quickly reciprocated. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Twist.”

Anne waved her off. “Call me Anne, my dear.”

“Anne,” Y/N repeated.

“Now come in and tell me all about the trip. Did he trick you into going to that fancy lounge where you get free food?” Y/N giggled because Harry indeed took her to a fancy lounge when he said he was taking her to get a smoothie.

Y/N spared a smile at Harry, but it was quick to fall when Y/N met another pair of eyes in the kitchen, looking at her with an intense stare. It dropped quickly because her attention shifted to Harry. Y/N focused back on Anne, trying to brush off the moment as something she imagined.

Y/N tried her best to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. There was no need to worry. Harry talked about wonderful things about his family. She was in safe hands. At least that’s what she kept reminding herself.

Y/N didn’t feel welcome. Anne was a gem, but Gemma was cold and looked bored whenever Y/N said a word. Y/N wondered if Harry picked up on it. He hadn’t said a word. Harry was home and had no time to deal with Y/N’s insecurities. She had to be reading into Gemma, not liking her. Harry spoke the world of his older sister. He said she was his best friend, someone whose opinion he valued. Fear struck her. If Gemma didn’t like her after this visit, she knew that as soon as she got on that plane to go home, Harry would be breaking up with her. At least she’d had several hours to cry about on the plane pathetically.

“There’s no way she didn’t know who you were,” Gemma scoffed, unbelieving of their story.

Harry brushed off her comment as if she said nothing. “Gem, I was bald.”

“Your face didn’t change.”

Harry sighs, “no, but you did a double take when I showed up to your doorstep to show you.”

Gemma frowns, knowing he was right. “Whatever, you were all over twitter.”

Harry is beginning to pick up on his sister’s defense and knows to drop it but will be picking it up with her later. “Anyway. Sitting next to each other, she asked me to watch her stuff when she had to use the restroom.”

“To look you up,” Gemma coughs.

Y/N fidgets in her chair, wanting to be anywhere but here. Harry continues with his story. “She thanked me and went back to her work. Before she left, Y/N asked if we knew each other, but I told her we didn’t. I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as her.”

“Charming,” Anne gloats. “My charming boy.”

Harry finished the story, stating it was meant to be. He had loved spending the time in Los Angeles getting to see the city through Y/N’s eyes. It’s a city she’s been living in for a couple of years. There was a lot for her to share with him. Harry had taken a liking to her favorite coffee shop. It had a design resembling a greenhouse and filled with plants, mainly featuring dried lavender. Truthfully, he spent a lot of time there because it was Y/N’s preferred place to study because it never got busy. Y/N called it her hidden gem.

“I’ve never been happier,” Harry shares. Y/N beams at his words but can’t help glancing at Gemma, who can’t help but look sick to her stomach at hearing this news.

Dinner passed dreadfully slowly. Y/N comments when she needs to but honestly hopes to disappear for the night soon, no longer wanting to burden Gemma with her presence. While Anne showed Y/N where she could freshen up, Harry stayed downstairs to share a nightcap with his sister.

Anne comes back to join them, but Gemma bites her tongue until their mother bids them goodnight. Harry gives his mother a tight embrace, commenting on how much he missed her. Gemma was happy her younger brother was home.

“Are you happy, Harry?” Gemma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry sighs, “never been happier.”

Gemma frowns, because she believes him. “I-I-nevermind.”

Harry frowns because Gemma is never someone to stop herself from saying what’s on her mind. “Hey,” he places his hand on top of hers. “It’s me. Your annoying younger brother, you can tell me anything.”

She removes her hand from under his and places them on her lap. “I don’t think she’s right for you.”

Harry sits back, surprised. “Sorry?”

“It’s clear she’s after something.”

He’s having a hard time believing his sister. “Like what?”

“Your money.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, baffled.

“No. That’s why I’m telling you. She’s after one thing.”

“How would you know?”

“Come on,” Gemma scoffs. “She goes to a prestigious school with a cost that no one could afford. It’s clear she wants you to pay for it.”

“Gemma, I met her during her last year.”

“Debt doesn’t go away overnight,” she fights back. “She’ll get you to pay off her loans and leave you.”

Harry’s anger is overwhelming him.

“You don’t even know her. Yet you say bad things about her.” It shuts Gemma up, and he uses that to his advantage and walks away.

“We saw the donation you made,” Gemma comments before he can make it up the stairs.

He turns back, trying his best to swallow down his anger. “If you would have asked me, you would know it’s for the music program. I did that for several universities if you would have taken the time to do a bit more research. It grants them a scholarship, plus pays for room and board.”

Gemma has no response. Harry is now standing in front of her and Gemma is nervous. She had never seen her brother this upset.

“What I do with my money is my problem. If she wanted me to send her money for a new car, I would. If she wanted me to buy her a piece of land, I would do it in a blink of an eye. If Y/N asked me to give her every last dime in my account, I would do it without a second thought because I love her. I love her and she loves me. You know, five minutes is not enough to judge her. I do not have to tell you of her financial issues, but I will so you can go home tonight and sleep knowing how upset I am with you. Y/N received the presidential scholarship covering her tuition for the three years she was there. Y/N has applied to hundreds of scholarships to cover her book fees, and has to take on an unpaid internship while working 40 hours a week to cover her rent. Y/N has not accepted a single dime from me for her school because she has gotten this far without me. Y/N only lets me pay for her seven dollar coffee every other day. Y/N would rather give every last dollar to me if I needed it instead of keeping it for herself. Y/N still sends money to her twin brothers for new shoes, or new backpacks, because she loves her family.”

Harry is near tears but keeps going. “I love Y/N. You might not, maybe you never will, but that girl has been the best thing to happen to me. I’ve never been more cared for and loved since she entered my life. So please, don’t bother coming back tomorrow or the rest of the week unless you have an apology for her.”

Y/N is grateful Harry’s room connects to the bathroom because, while she finished getting ready, she thought she would ask Harry for a cup of water and instead stumbled upon a conversation she shouldn’t have. Y/N tries her best to swallow her tears, but it’s no use. They’re more powerful than her. They stream down and Y/N decides to lie in bed, hoping by the time Harry comes in, she’s fast asleep. Y/N isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her tears have dried up and she’s as still as a rock when she hears Harry come in. She wants to tell him that she’s not worth defending if it means he’s messing up his relationship with his sister.

She hears him get ready for bed. Y/N knows he’s folding his clothes and placing them on the chair. He’s meticulous about his night-time routine. He crawls into bed next to her. Y/N tries her best to steal her breathing to make it seem like she’s sleeping, but Harry knows her too well. He scoots right behind her, his hand sliding over her hips and settling on her stomach, right by the scar she got on her eight birthday when she fell off her bike. Harry rubs the lifted skin, where she got four stitches.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, working up the courage to say something, but her throat is closed. She relaxes against him. All her tears dried up. She is beginning to feel better now that she’s with him. A kiss to her temple has her heart slowing down. This is what it is to be protected.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N croaks out when she feels like enough time has passed.

Harry pulls her tight against him. It fills her with ease. “How much did you hear?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want you to argue with your family.”

“It’s only my sister,” he defends.

“She’s an important person in your life. You’ve always specified that.”

Harry sighs. He leaves a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “You are important to me, too.”

“You don’t need to be fighting. It’s not necessary.”

“It is when she needs a wack to her head.”

“Harry,” Y/N drags out. “I don’t want you burning bridges.”

Harry understood where she was coming from, but Y/N was not seeing how it affected him as well. “We’ll be fine. She’s my sister. We’ll talk in a few days. All this will be in the past.”

Y/N freezes, feeling as if someone dropped a cold bucket of water on her. If Harry believes everything will be alright with his sister, that means he sees himself forgiving her for what she said but also means he would be getting rid of the problem. Her.

Harry was going to be breaking up with her. This started her tears to fall again, only this time she couldn’t keep quiet. They were pouring out of her at a quick rate. He was quick to sit up bringing Y/N with him.

“Hey, hey,” Harry cooed. “What happened? What did I do?”

“Y-y-you,” she stuttered. Nothing was coming out.

He would not rush her. Instead, he shifted her to straddle his lap. Y/N tucked her head into his neck. Hary felt his neck dampen with tears. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, whispering “I love you,” hoping it would be enough to calm her. He snaked a hand under her night shirt softly running his nails up and down her back. Y/N curled in closer at the action. His sweet girl was feeling overwhelmed, and he felt awful because he wasn’t being helpful.

Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hands moved from her side up to his neck, she settled them on his cheek. She caressed his face, calming him down. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he was, but it’s clear Y/N could see what he needed even in her moments of sadness.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N voiced. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry frowned. No one had said anything about him leaving. He would never dream of walking away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But Gemma–”

He cuts her off. “Gemma doesn’t know you like I do. She is looking out for me and I know she meant no harm, but she went about all this wrong. She decided to judge us, judge you before getting to know you.”

Y/N did no wrong. She was nothing Gemma accused her of. Y/N knew that, of course she did, but Y/N hoped to impress his family, not make them upset.

“I know you, Lovie. My mum knows you. Mostly, you know yourself. Your character speaks for you and it has never been anything but kind and loving.”

Harry’s words slowly begin to mend her heart.

“I love you, Harry.”

He connects his lips with hers in a loving kiss. “I love you so much.”

Y/N falls asleep to Harry’s voice as he sings her to sleep. It’s a lullaby he says his mum would sing when he had a nightmare. While Y/N didn’t know how tomorrow would go, she was happy to have Harry at her side.

The morning passed slowly between the three of them. They shared stories with Anne, Harry, catching her up on his upcoming plans. Y/N talked about her looming graduation and told Anne about her thesis project. Anne promised to make the trip for her graduation, something Harry couldn’t stop gloating about how she was top of her class on her way to graduate summa cum laude. Y/N had stepped outside wanting to enjoy all the open land Anne had. The cats happily roamed around Y/N as she settled in the grass. Y/N thought of her dad at home and what he’d have to say about the situation. He’d probably tell her to run while she could, but Y/N knew Harry was her person. Y/N laid down, closed her eyes and took in all the surrounding noise. She heard birds chirping, a purring in the distance and the rush of the wind hitting the wind chimes. It was perfect.

There was a loud band that had Y/N sitting up in a hurry. She looked back and realized it was the back door. Anne had stepped out, Y/N could see Harry in the kitchen, hands moving rapidly, and she knew he wasn’t alone. Anne sat not to Y/N, neither of them saying a word.

“My daughter owes you an apology.”

“Anne–”

She stops Y/N. “No, I raised her better than that. I’m not sure when she got so protective, but it’s clearly not for the best. Harry is nearing 30 he doesn’t need his sister looking out for him. While I’m glad they have each other, this was unnecessary. It caused a lot of hurt that should have never existed.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to talk to her if you’re not comfortable.”

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She dreaded talking to Gemma, but Y/N knew she’d feel worse if she went home and never talked this out with her. “I’m willing. I-I might need time to forgive her.”

Anne squeezed Y/N’s hand. “That’s perfectly alright. Now tell me about these brothers of yours.”

Y/N spent the rest of the evening with Anne, forgetting about her problems. It isn’t until Harry called them both in for dinner that they realized they spent hours outside.

Harry greeted her with a kiss.

Dinner went off without a hitch, the three of them sharing all kinds of stories. Mostly Harry interrupting Anne to tell her a new story about Y/N he remembered. Harry that night promised he was alright with Gemma. He was feeling hurt. Assured her he loved her, but needed time to move past it.

Y/N woke up early the next morning and decided to go on a walk along the river. Harry told her it felt never ending. They had walked it once every day, but today she went alone, letting Harry sleep in but also have that extra time with Anne. As Y/N walked, she thought of her brothers and how they would love to be throwing rocks in the river. Y/N was sure one of them would even fall in on accident. The weather would pique her dad’s interest. He was a sunshine man. She was sure the gloomy weather would be too much for him to handle.

Two hours later, Y/N came back and was taken aback by Gemma’s presence on the front steps of the house, holding a thermal mug.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted.

“Morning, nice walk?” Gemma asked.

Small talk. It was safe. “Mhm, Harry showed me the trail he liked to walk on.”

“Mmm…coffee?” Gemma offered.

“Uh, I’m okay,” Y/N rejected.

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.”

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words.

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her.

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.”

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready.

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.”

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.”

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.”

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully.

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.”

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.”

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades.

“Morning, pretty girl.”

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.”

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her.

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.”

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready.

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.”

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully.

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.”

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.”

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades.

“Morning, pretty girl.”

“Hi, Harry. I love you.”

Y/N knows he’s grinning. “I love you too. Even if you left me alone this morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she defends. “You always told me a morning walk here cleared your head.”

“And did it?”

“Mmm…like magic.”

“Are you okay, Lovie?” Harry turns off the stove. He turns around, setting his hands on Y/N’s waist. His hair makes her laugh as she sees it sticking in different directions.

“We talked. She apologized. Promise I’m okay. It still hurts, but I’ll try my best to forgive her for you.”

Harry tuts his tongue. “No, honey.” Y/N tilts her head, confused. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“But she’s your–”

“She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean you have to change how you feel about me. I promise I am with you. She made a mistake, and I’ll forgive her but at my own time. You take your time as well.”

Y/N feels overwhelmed all over again because she really did get lucky with Harry. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my love. So much more.”

Harry gives her a kiss. A promise that everything will be alright.

thank you for reading my beautiful friends! let me know your favorite parts

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles story #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst story #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

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elbiotipo · 19 days

Text

So, to get serious for a moment. If you've been following me for a while you're surely aware of how bad Javier Milei's government is for our country and in particular for science and education. This has affected me very personally, as the recent funding cuts mean I'm basically unemployed right now. This is an undesirable situation to say the least, and because of the general crisis we're going through that affects virtually all institutions in the country, my job search is not easy.

This means I might have to move away soon, perhaps to another province or country, if I cannot find a job here, which is a huge expense I must consider and save for. And also, my family is going through legal expenses (nothing bad, but still a money sink) and I am unable to help them right now. Along with many other expenses that get worse every week (not an exaggeration) given our current economic crisis. So right now, I'm looking for any kind of income until hopefully I can get a stable job.

I would really appreciate if you could consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, even a little bit means a lot here on Argentina. And I want you to get something out of it! If there's something my years of study have been useful for, is to learn about how the world works, and if you know my passion for worldbuilding and love the things I write about it, please, do feel free to ask me questions, suggest me things to write about, or DM me to talk about your writing. I often take my time to answer, but if there's anything I have now, it's unfortunately time. So I hope you consider supporting me, and regardless, you can look forward to more worldbuilding, science and history posts. And Argentina shitposting of course.

In a more professional note, I am also a certified and experienced English-Spanish translator. If you're seriously looking for someone with that skill, you can DM me.

So, that's it. Thank you for reading.

#cosas mias

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thisismeracing · 1 month

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More than friends | LH44

―Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader ―Warnings: curse words, mentions of food, and typos; ―Summary: You're friends with Lewis, but fans don't buy the "just friends" discourse - for them, you and Lewis make the most powerful couple, even if you're not famous. And maybe they're right, maybe you're supposed to be more than friends. (based on this request).

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yourusername

liked by yourbestie, lewishamilton, and others

yourusername went for coffee/reading with the bestie, but of course, we ended up yapping about everything and only reading two sentences 😁

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angryschumacher they just like me and my bestie except they’re more cute and would make a great couple 👀

grandpierre can you imagine being bestie with lewis freaking hamilton?! 😭

leclerccrown what are you reading, yn?

⤷ yourusername crooked plows by itamar vieira junior! :)

yourbestie can I borrow those shoes for a date this weekend?? 🙏

lewishamilton worst matcha I’ve ever had 🤢

⤷ yourusername youre just not used to the flavors! It was deliciou

⤷ lewishamilton it probably was, but right before you added tons of sugar and what else 🥴

⤷ yourusername shut up 😡

⤷ lewishamilton I just don’t need extra sugar when you’re around, sweetie

⤷ tifosikimi am I sensing some flirting? 👁️🫦👁️

⤷ tiredtyres tifosikimi I don’t think so, me and my bestie banter like this but we consider each other siblings

harrietdirection her hair is so shiny, her skin is so glowy, she’s so humble and simple and sweet and pretty can lewis share her with the fandom pls

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, dualipa, and others

lewishamilton recharging for next weekend 💛

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likedbypierregasly this looks like such a romantic dump, the kind of dump one would post with…I dunno…their girlfriend 👀

biebertsunoda I wanna be her so bad

yourusername 💛

⤷ keepingupwf1 yeah bestie Im at a loss of words too

mickschumacher Angie is questioning me about play dates with roscoe!!

⤷ roscoelovescoco 😍 Is miss Angies too

⤷ yourusername how about tomorrow before media duty??

⤷ mickschumacher sounds great! 🤝

⤷ zhoulovers she’s roscoe’s mom, change my mind

elitebarzal oh to spend a weekend recharging beside lewis and roscoe 😭

zendaya 😍😍😍

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, lewisfan, and others

yourusername productive Friday at work 🤓

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redsainz who choose these boots? I bet it was lewis

oconnected they're so powerful together, you can see bits and bits of the other in them 🩷

mickschumacher glad you enjoyed the haribo! 😌

⤷ yourusername my new fav candy!!! 😌

lewishamilton nice fit 😏

⤷ yourusername you like it? a friend set it up for me 😎

⤷ redsainz told you guys he was to one to piece it together!!!!

bonosmicrophone its the way mick, lily, alex, george, and so on constantly interact with her 🥹🥹

dollarsainz lewishamilton can I date her?

⤷ lewishamilton nah, she’s already taken

⤷ leclerccar WHAT?,mKVNWNCJSJJCJSD

lewishamilton & yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and others

lewishamilton guess we were always meant to be more ❤️

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yourusername fitting together like the perfect pair of legos 💘 you're forever my best friend, I love you

⤷ lewishamilton I love you forever

⤷ schumickey 😭forever😭my😭best😭friend😭

rizzhou most powerful paddock couple!

yukiyukiyuki everything about these pics gives wholesome heartdly in love vibe 🥹

charles_leclerc finally, guys!!!!! ❤️

georgerussell63 it was about time!

alex_albon lily is asking for another double date (please Yn don’t steal my girl 😭)

⤷ lilymhe too late, babes 😁

mercedesamgf1 😍😍 we’be been rooting for this since the beginning!

⤷ formulainchident even admin!!!!

scuderiaferrari Yn, we already have your special headphones and shirt ready! 🫵❤️

norrisrizz I want what they have, I wanna be her, I wanna be him, I wanna be their dog, I-

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! :D as usual, reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated. don't forget to let me know your thoughts!

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

― Reminder: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

#lh44 #op: smau #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton media au #lewis hamilton instragram au #f1 smau #lewis hamilton smau #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au #f1 instragam au #f1 x you #asian!reader

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zepskies · 4 months

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Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

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freelancearsonist · 2 months

Text

Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile.

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face.

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality.

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #cece writes

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bambikisss · 2 months

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To make an album: K. HongJoong

(Bambi's ver!) Producer bf HJ X Famous singer reader

'To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer'

📙: You have been on the rise since your debut album almost 4 years ago. Now, your millions of fans are demanding a full album from you and the company is on you about finishing it before the deadline, giving you one big choice: who will produce your album?

⚠ : Unprotected sex (always wrap it up and keep it safe), Mentions of past poor producers, Sex in the studio, Multiple rounds, recording sex, car sex, use of handcuffs (reader), L bomb, use of mirror, Spanking, HJ calls reader names (baby girl, slut, puppy, baby), Slight Dumbification, slight degradation, pussy obsessed HJ, basically smut with barely plot, Producer HJ (whole warning)

🎶: Mushroom Chocolate - Quin ft 6lack, Lil Freak - Usher, Take Me -Miso, Gorilla - Bruno Mars

Bambi's notes: SO what happened was that I got carried away because producer HJ is a version of him I will NEVER get over lol. Smut with semi plot, not really.

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'Y/N L/N is set to release her long awaited full album in two months. Fans have been waiting for a full album from her since her debut almost 4 years ago. What kind of sound do you think she'll go for? Please let us know via social media at-'

"Alexa, turn this off." You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through your large apartment, your feet padding against the floor as you entered the kitchen. It was far too early to hear anyone talk about you, even if it was positive.

You raised to the tips of your toes as you grabbed your coffee bag from the cabinet, the dim morning light lighting the kitchen for you as you began to make your morning coffee. You had a long day in the studio ahead of you and knew you couldn't get by without any sort of caffeine.

You were at the top of your career after debuting 4 years ago. You had gained millions of fans and had put out award-winning singles and mini-albums. You even went on a sold-out tour a couple of months back.

However, while you were more than content with your singles and mini-albums, your fans had been getting vocal about wanting a full album from you, just like when you first came onto the music scene. You had put it off for as long as you could, not finding the process of making the full album interesting enough to hold your full attention. Plus, the producer who produced your debut album was an asshole, which made you unwilling to make another one. But, the company was now placing their foots down, not releasing any more of your music until you presented them with a full album.

You jumped lightly as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back to rest against his chest. You relaxed at the feeling of his lips pressed against your cheek, a small hum leaving his lips as you rubbed his arms. You tilted your head back to admire the man who held you close, his dark brown hair still a mess from sleep. His eyes scanned your face as if you were a piece of art, the corners of his lips curling up as you smiled back at him. It felt like such a sweet moment between you and him, forgetting all about your problems.

"Did you make enough coffee for the two of us?" HongJoong's deep, sleep-laced voice made your smile grow as you loved how he sounded when he just woke up. You nodded, leaning forward to check the pot before turning around in his arms to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a sweet kiss onto your forehead, his hands resting on your hips as he did so. "Good. How's the last 4 tracks of your album coming along?"

You frowned as he mentioned your album, placing a kiss on his lips as you tried to shut him up about it. It was bad enough that all the fans and the company were constantly asking you about it, you didn't want your boyfriend to ask you about it too, especially before your coffee.

HongJoong only chuckled at your attempt to silence him, pulling back to look down at you with knowing eyes. He knew you'd rather forget about it, but he wanted to help, especially since the company had their eyes on you. "Baby, you can't just kiss me whenever you want to shut me up, you know?" He laughed.

"I wasn't trying to shut you up, but I don't wanna talk about the album right now, baby." You smiled, moving to lean against the counter as HongJoong moved to grab you and him a mug for the coffee. He chuckled again, filling your mug with caffeine before sliding it over to you, a smile on his lips as he said "But we should talk about it, especially with that deadline you have coming up."

You took a sip of your coffee as he returned to stand in front of you, leaning against the opposite counter with a comforting smile. HongJoong knew about your past producer who treated you poorly when you were putting out your debut album. He had met you right afterward, so he understood when you didn't want anything to do with him unless it had to do with music. But, as time went on, you and him grew closer. Now you two had been dating for 2 years.

"Y/N, baby." HongJoong tilted his head to meet your gaze, offering you a comforting smile as he took a sip of his coffee before standing back up straight. Only when he is sure that he has your full attention does he ask "Did you find a producer yet?"

You hadn't. You had been writing and recording demos all by yourself, choosing to put off picking a producer till the very last second. You didn't know any other producers you trusted with a project like this. You shook your head, meeting your boyfriend's eyes over your coffee cup as you said "I'll probably just take whoever the company assigns to me to produce this."

To your surprise, HongJoong's eyes lit up at your words before he said "Well, let me produce it."

You narrowed your eyes over the mug of coffee at your boyfriend, trying to see what he meant by that. At your sharp and questioning gaze, he placed his mug down on the counter before saying "I'll produce your album." You and HongJoong had only worked on two other songs together, those two songs doing well on the charts and even winning awards. However, you wanted to keep your relationship and your music separate, but HongJoong wasn't having that. He placed his hands on your waist, a small pout on his lips as he asked "do you not have faith in me and my skills? I know what it takes to make a good album, you know."

"What do you need, HongJoong?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your boyfriend smirked, his hands moving to your thigh, his fingers playing with the edge of the large t-shirt you slipped on after your many rounds with him last night. His fingers slowly dragged up the sides of your thighs, small goosebumps being left in his wake as it moved underneath your shirt, cupping your ass as he spoke with confidence ''To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer''

You were no longer paying attention to his words, his lips grazing yours as he placed a small kiss onto the corners of your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he pressed his chest against your folded arms. HongJoong lips dragged against your cheek to your ear, his hands moving up the small of your back as he spoke into your ear "plus, think of all the fun things we can do in the studio. I know you like riding me while I produce"

You bit your lip at the memory of you riding him in his studio while he tried to focus on producing: you had been missing him while on tour and was on break for a week when the company asked him to produce a song for Yunho. You had been begging him to just take an hour's break and come home to fuck you, but he was very insistent on finishing the song that night. He responded to your needy texts with a simple "If you want me that badly, you better come and get it."

"You were so wet for me, babe" You shivered as he placed a kiss onto your neck, his hands now moving back down to your ass, his finger dipping underneath the panty fabric to tease you before he whispered again "I remember that I had to cover your mouth while I bent you over my keyboard because you were so goddam loud, moaning and whining like a bitch in heat."

"HongJoong" you whispered, the desire in the air making you forget what the conversation was even about. You closed your eyes as your panties snapped back against you, his hands soon moving to grab the sides, teasing you by pulling them down slightly before snapping the fabric back against you. HongJoong smirked at the sight in front of him, his cock pressing against his thin boxers as he repeated his process a few more times till your hands were gripping the countertops. He had you right where he wanted you.

You closed your eyes as he leaned in close to your lips, hoping he would take mercy on you and just kiss you. You were soon filled with disappointment as his hands left your body, opening your eyes to see his proud orbs. He placed one of his hands underneath your jaw, making sure you kept your eyes on him as he said "just think about it, baby."

You sighed silently as he let go of your chin, grabbing his coffee cup before walking away to begin getting ready for his day. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm down as you looked outside your apartment windows. You pressed your legs together as you felt your wetness pool in your panties, your boyfriend's touch having lingering effects on you.

You thought about ambushing him while he showered, but your phone buzzed with a text from your manager, letting you know that she was on her way to pick you up and take you to the company so you could work on your album. You bit your lip, realizing that you had an hour to go get ready.

Today was going to be a long day.

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"No, he called me a bitch for not wanting too much autotune in my songs"

Your manager ran a hand through her hair as you denied another producer, sitting across from you in the meeting room at your company. She had a whole stack of worthy candidates to produce the album that you had worked with in the past, but you turned them all down. You had bad experiences with all of them that you didn't want to think about when you were working on an anticipated album.

Your manager called for a break so she could find another list of possible producers, sighing as you shot out of your seat and made your way to the doors. She called out to you before you could leave, a motherly look on her face as she said "Y/N, you have to let someone produce this album. You can't keep putting this off."

You nodded, walking out of the room silently. She was right, you couldn't keep putting it off, but you didn't want just anybody touching your tracks.

You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through the long hallway, looking for a practice room for you to record another song you had written. Maybe you could release an album full of demos?

Before you could enter the room, your eyes fell onto your boyfriend's studio down the hall. His door was covered in stickers that his visitors had placed there when they worked with him. The familiar feeling from this morning returned as you made your way to his studio, hoping to just get a glimpse of your boyfriend. You carefully opened his office to see him working on a track, his headphones snug on his head.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend producing, bouncing his head to the beat of the music while his fingers added to it. He was in his element and you found it incredibly sexy. You bit your lip as you closed the door behind you, making your way to him carefully as he continued to produce, not noticing you till you placed your hands onto his shoulders. His eyes glanced over at your manicured nails, smirking when he realized it was you.

He let your hands drag up his shoulders and neck, carefully taking off his headphones as he saved the track, knowing that he wouldn't be getting back to it for a while. He turned his chair around, looking up at you as you moved to his lap, both of you sighing as your warm, clothed pussy pressed against his clothed cock. He watched as you began to grind down against it, craving any sort of friction you could get. He gently grabbed your hips, helping you as he placed kisses along your neck.

"Did you think about what I said this morning?" He hummed against your neck, his tongue peaking out to lick your sweet spot, making you purr out "Hmm, what did you say this morning."

Your words were met with a bite from him, tsking as he pulled back to look at you, his hips meeting yours as you both ground against each other on his chair. "Don't tell me you didn't pay attention to me, baby. Or, were you distracted by something?" He played with you as he looked up at you, chuckling at your already fucked out looking state. He gently patted your cheek, licking his lips as he asked "Were you distracted, baby?"

At your nod, he let out a soft "aww," his voice laced with faux care as he unbuttoned your jeans, leaning down to place a kiss on your stomach as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. "I'm sorry baby, I'll make sure not to touch you when I'm talking to you"

You knew he wasn't really sorry, your hands running through his hair as his hands slid into the back of your jeans, pushing them down as much as he could. HongJoong loved it when you got distracted by his touch, loving the sight of you trying to remember what he was talking about while he picked you up from his lap, smirking at the wet patch that was on his own jeans.

"I was talking to you about me producing your album, baby," he said, unbuttoning his jeans as you took off your jeans and shirt, now standing before him in nothing but a thin thong and bra. You let out a playful "Oh? Were we really?" as you turned around, bending over as you pulled down your panties. You made a show out of it, smirking when you heard your boyfriend's breath hitch. You bit your lip as his hands made contact with your ass, his hands massaging the globes of your ass before he stood behind you, his cock slipping in between your thighs, making you moan softly.

"Yes, we were talking about me producing it. You need to learn to focus, babe." He hummed, pressing a kiss to the bottom of your neck while his hands moved up your sides slowly to your hair, his fingers making a ponytail out of your hair. Once he was satisfied, he kicked your legs apart further, making you lean forward to place your hands onto the couch he had in his studio as he spit down onto his cock, his spit coating the head of his thick cock before slowly pushing into you.

"Oooh, that's it baby" he groaned deeply, closing his eyes as your wet pussy welcomed him back in warmly. HongJoong couldn't get enough of your pussy, always wanting to be balls deep in you whenever he could be, even if you two of you weren't fucking. He swore he felt his brain turn off as he began to fuck you, his eyes shut tightly as fucked you. You gripped the couch as he fucked you, his cock stretching you out perfectly as you moaned into the couch. At the sound of your muffled moans, he pulled on your hair, tugging you so your back was arched, your head no longer on the couch as he drilled his cock into you.

You tried to keep quiet as he praised you through your moans, even lifting one of his legs to the couch so he could drill his cock deeper into you at an angle. He had you seeing stars in no time, panting out his name and moaning as he fucked you.

HongJoong soon pulled out of you, making you whine at the loss of his cock and back your ass up to where you thought he was. You were met with a hard spank to your ass, making you moan as your boyfriend dropped to his knees behind you, kissing your puffy pussy before whispering "hush baby, lemme taste you, then you can ride my cock till I fill you up."

You moaned at the thought, your moans only growing as HongJoong's tongue licked your pussy, flattening his tongue against you before sucking on your lips. You reached behind you to grab his hair, pulling him closer to your pussy as his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, spreading you for him to eat you.

One of the things you loved about him was how loud HongJoong got when he ate you out: you could vividly hear every time he sucked, licked, and spat back into your pussy. You bit your lip as he moaned lewdly into your pussy, his secret desires and your praises being moaned into your wet pussy, the vibrations making you shake. After one long lick, he pulled back, helping you to stand up (more like he held you while you leaned against his body) before leading you to his chair, sitting down on it before he pulled you down onto his lap.

You instantly knew what to do, sinking down on his cock with a pleasure-filled sigh. You began to grind down as his hands returned to your hips, guiding your hips to spell whatever he wanted. "You still haven't answered me, princess, come on." Your eyes snapped to meet his dark ones, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to remember what the hell he was talking about.

HongJoong tsked at your fuzzy memory, shaking his head before saying "I know you're in heat, baby, but you should at least be able to remember what I just said. Don't tell me my cock is stopping you from thinking." He leaned forward, biting your shaking bottom lip as he began to fuck up into you, pulling back as you moaned loudly, tossing your head back as he clicked his tongue. He suddenly stopped, smirking when you began to whine and try to move again, his grip on your hips tightening, warning you. "Look at me, baby, meet my eyes."

You did as you were told, his head falling back against the head of his chair as he opened his legs a little wider to make it more comfortable and to firmly plant his feet against the floor. "Tell me, baby, what were we talking about?"

Your brain once more short-circuited as his thumb began to rub small circles on your clit as your thought, your boyfriend's lips soon wrapping around your nipple as you stumbled out "You producing my album?"

"There we go, baby" HongJoong praised, helping you resume riding him as he fucked up into you. He watched as your face contorted to show pleasure, your head now tossed back as you eagerly rode his cock, making him moan. "That's my smart baby, huh? She may be a slut in heat, but she knows what's important, right?"

"Yes, yes" you moaned, HongJoong lips returning to your nipple with a soft "good girl." You let his words motivate you to move faster, no longer even registering that you were in his studio in the company with an album that was due soon. Nothing else mattered when he fucked you so well.

"Hmm, so what about what I said this morning, baby? Are you going to make the right decision and let me produce your album?" He hummed against your breasts as he moved faster, watching as you bounced faster to match him. He could tell you were about to cum and that he was getting close too, his own moans growing to match yours. It made him glad he soundproofed his studio that morning.

You nodded at his words, desperate to agree to whatever he wanted so you could cum, his lips crashing into yours as you both came. You held him close as you both kissed, your tongues locking in the kiss as you both ground against each other, both of your cum mixing and leaking out of you onto his cock, balls, and even a bit on the chair. Once you both had calmed down, you placed your head onto his shoulder as you took a deep breath, your eyes closed as HongJoong turned the chair around to face his setup, his hands running through your hair as he whispered "Whenever you're ready, baby, we can get started recording the tracks. We got an album to make."

Yes, the two of you did.

______________________________________________________________

"Looks like you found your main producer, huh?"

You smiled as you held your glass of champagne, turning to look at your boyfriend. HongJoong was across the party with his own glass of champagne, his custom-fitted dark purple velvet suit against his body while his freshly bleached hair was styled perfectly. He was talking to someone else, but with the feeling of your eyes on him, he suddenly made eye contact with him.

Throughout the whole album-producing process with him, you both had not been able to keep each other's hands off each other, fucking multiple times all around his studio.

"Yes, I did." Your eyes drank in the way HongJoong leaned against the wall, his eyes doing the same as walked around that night. HongJoong couldn't wait till the two of you got home, excited to rip off your short, dark purple dress that hugged your body perfectly. His eyes moved up your legs and thighs, his body heating up knowing what was between your thighs. He felt like he could pounce on you at any minute, not caring if everyone watched as he fucked you on the table. In fact, that was on his bucket list.

"Baby?" You turned around to see HongJoong now behind you, his lips still puffy from the make-out session you two had in the hallway 30 minutes ago. "I think it's time we go, Y/N. The party is winding down and I have another surprise for you at the apartment." A surprised "Oh really?" left your lips at his words, not expecting him to have a surprise for you waiting at the house. Before you could try and ask for hints, HongJoong's hand interlocked with yours, pulling you from the party. You tried your best to keep up with his fast walk as he walked outside, unlocking the car you and he shared before he opened the back door. You looked at it with confusion, HongJoong's only response being "Get in the backseat, baby. It'll all make sense later."

You sat in the backseat as he climbed in the front seat, the car ride silent as he sped home. You bit your lip as your eyes fell on your boyfriend's hands as they gripped the steering wheel, his veins popping out from how tightly he was holding it. Your eyes moved from his hands up his body, noticing how fast his chest was rising and falling. Your eyes soon looked into the rearview mirror, meeting HongJoong's hard gaze. You hadn't noticed that he was looking at you throughout the car ride, biting your lip as you spread your legs, giving the mirror and your boyfriend a perfect view of your soaked panties.

When HongJoong glanced into the mirror once again and saw your new position, he swore he almost pulled over right then and there. He smirked, glad to see that you were just as horny as he was for you. He reached back to touch your knee as his other hand stayed on the wheel. His eyes never left the road, but his voice let you know that he was still watching you.

"Why don't you run a pretty finger up your panties for me, baby? Tell me how wet you are for me" You did as you were told, dragging your fingers up your clothed pussy, shivering at how your panties stuck to you. "You're so wet, aren't you baby? Just a few more minutes, then we'll be back home. I'll take good care of you, I promise, just keep yourself wet for me."

You nodded, feeling a jolt of excitement rush through you at what was about to happen.

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"Joong, please" You closed your eyes as HongJoong ripped open the door to the car, his knees meeting the floor of the car in an instant at the sound of your voice. HongJoong has made you touch yourself over your panties constantly, not letting you give yourself any relief. He parked in a spot in the parking garage that was hidden from everyone else and from the security camera, making sure that no one could interrupt you two. He closed the doors behind him as he cooed at you, promising to ease your pussy's ache as he placed kisses along your inner thighs, moving closer to you.

He soon hooked his fingers into your ruined panties, tugging down the fabric. He had to pause when he saw a string of your arousal connect with the panties, making him look away to ensure that he didn't cum in his pants. He wanted you to have all of his cum, not wanting to waste a drop.

He finished removing your panties, placing the fabric into his pocket before he took in a shaky breath; it wasn't out of nerves, but to control himself. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, biting his lip at the view of your spread pussy. "Such a wet and naughty pussy. Did you want me as much as I wanted it, baby?" You nodded as he leaned in, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy. Both of your loud moans mixed in the car as he repeated his motion, slurping up any more wetness that leaked from you with urgency.

HongJoong soon sped up, his licks moving faster as he pushed a finger into you, curling it as his tongue played with your clit. He loved watching how you rode his tongue and fingers when he ate you out, wanting more of him as he drowned in your pussy. He licked up his wrist, catching more juices before his tongue replaced his fingers, making your hands rush into his blonde hair, your back arching against the car seat as you came and squirted. HongJoong moaned loudly, cussing as he cleaned you up. You lay limp against the seat as he finally pulled back from your pussy, moving up the seat to stand in front of you.

"Talk to me, baby. Let me know you're still here with me" he cupped your face as he spoke, his thumbs rubbing along your cheeks as he waited for you to come down. When you finally nodded, he smiled before pressing a small kiss to your forehead. "There you are, baby. You came so much for me."

You smiled at his praise, reaching for his cock that was now pressing against his velvet pants, HongJoong's hand gently grasping your wrist to stop you. "Not right now, baby, not in here. Lemme move the car closer to the elevator and take you up to the apartment." You pouted as he got out of the car to move to the front seat, meeting your eyes in the mirror as he said "trust me, baby."

You trusted him as he moved the car to park in front of one of the elevators before helping you inside. When you both finally made it inside the apartment, you had to pause at the doorway.

The apartment was decorated with tons of flowers and heart balloons, led candles were lit all around the place. It looked so romantic. You turned to HongJoong as he locked the front door and removed his shoes, an obvious smile on his face as he walked past you. "Did you do all of this, Joong?" You followed him into the living room, smiling as he finally faced you with a smile on his face. "Of course I did. My girlfriend put out an album despite not choosing me two weeks before it was due" You rolled your eyes playfully as he pulled you close to him, smiling as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "But, I did this to show how proud of you I am, Y/N. I mean that."

You smiled as he kissed you again, the kiss this time sweet as you cupped the back of his neck as he began to lead you down the hallway, stumbling with you into walls. When you both finally reached the bedroom, the kiss had intensified to the point where your tongues were caressing each other. HongJoong pressed you roughly against the door, his hands moving around your body before he ripped down the front of your dress, shoving his face in between your tits as he picked you up. You moaned his name as he carried you to the bed, laying you down on it with ease before he pulled back, standing up.

For the first time that evening, you saw HongJoong's desire in his eyes fully. He looked at you as he began to unbutton his suit, commanding you to watch when you tried to move closer. His eyes drunk in your sprawled-out body on the bed before he removed his jacket, making his way into the closet that was adjacent to the bed. You kicked your heels off as you watched HongJoong toss the velvet jacket onto the floor carelessly before he roughly separated some hanging clothes. He leaned into the clearing he made before he took out a dark blue box that was covered in stickers and had a ribbon on it.

That dark blue box was your and HongJoong's sex box. HongJoong called it 'Joong's box', a play on Pandora's box. Inside the box contained anything either one of you had bought to use during sex, having decorated the box so if anyone saw it, they wouldn't think anything of it.

When HongJoong turned to exit the closet, the two of you made eye contact for a brief moment, and you felt your body shiver. He looked so far gone, not even recognizing the depth of desire he had for you. He gently removed the ribbon as he approached the bed, his thumb flicking off the top of the box as he stood in front of you. He smirked as he looked through the box, picking what he wanted to use on you tonight before he placed the box down onto the nightstand.

He moved you to your knees, allowing your hands to run up and down the fabric of his pants before you began to unbutton his pants, eager to get a taste of him as he fiddled with the box. As you pushed his pants down his thighs, your eyes zeroed in on his cock as HongJoong soon pulled out something from the box, placing them on the bed before he moved to grab the box top. You took the opportunity while he put the box back to see what he took out, moaning softly at what he picked out.

Sitting on the bed next to you was a black cannon camera and a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs. You bit your lip as he returned, picking up the camera to inspect it. "I think there's enough memory in here for tonight, don't you baby? I mean, we are celebrating."

You watched as he positioned the camera on the nightstand to get the perfect angle of you and him before pressing record, leaning down to give you also a sweet kiss. His lips gently rolled with yours as he kissed you, taking all the air from your lungs as he held the back of your neck, keeping you in the kiss. His hands slowly moved down the back of your dress, dragging the zipper down with him as he did so. "Are you going to be good tonight, Y/N? Say it loud enough for the camera to hear, baby girl."

"I'll be good for you, HongJoong. I'll always be good for you" you moaned as he bit your bottom lip, a proud smirk on his lips as he pulled back. "Of course you'll be good for me, baby. That's all a dumb puppy in heat like you wants, huh? Just my cock pleasing you?" HongJoong watched as you nodded, pushing down his boxers with a proud smile lacing his lips.

"Yeah? Come get your cock then, baby. I know you've been craving it since we got home." You rushed to give his cock a few pumps as your tongue dragged along his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue as he leaned over to grab the camera, holding it in one hand as another hand went into your hair, pushing you down onto his cock. You and HongJoong closed your eyes as you began to bob your head, your hand pumping what you couldn't take as he tossed his head back, offering you praise through his moans. When you couldn't meet his eyes, you looked into the camera, doing whatever it took to hear him curse and moan your name.

HongJoong tossed his forward, forcing himself to watch as you bobbed your head on his cock. He then leaned over to place the camera back on the nightstand before the hand that was in your hair pulled you off his cock, some of your saliva mixed with his precum dropping from your lips as he tilted your head back. He smirked at the sight before leaning beside you, grabbing the handcuffs while you pressed kisses to the side of his face, desperate for him.

"Place your hands behind you, baby." You did as you were told, looking up at him as he handcuffed your hands behind you, stopping you from being able to feel him. You whined softly, about to complain when you felt a sharp sting on your ass, the spank echoing in the room as HongJoong hissed "Shut it."

You nodded as he eased you down on the bed so your head was hanging off the edge while the rest of your body rested on the bed, his hands moving to knee your breasts as he positioned his cock at your mouth. "You shouldn't need your hands to take my cock baby. No, baby girl, you're a pro." He moaned as he pushed into your mouth, gripping your breasts as he began to fuck your throat. You gurgled around his cock as he used your mouth, your hands gripping the sheets as he continued to speak.

"No, my baby is a slut. My baby knows how to take some cock, especially when it's mine. You even made a whole song about sex with me, didn't you?" HongJoong asked, his voice now deeper than usual as he pulled out of your mouth, looking down at you with dark eyes.

Near the end of producing your album, you had chosen to get inspiration from your many nights in the studio with your boyfriend and write a bonus track. When HongJoong heard it, he fucked you all around the studio in one night. To say HongJoong liked it was an understatement.

You nodded as he turned you over onto your stomach, cupping your jaw as he fed his cock into your mouth, resuming his rough pace as he moaned. "Wrote a whole song surrounding getting me cock, didn't you, baby? Fuck, and when everyone hears it, they're going to wonder who you're singing about, not knowing that you were on your producer's cock while you sang about riding it."

You couldn't help but moan louder at his words, grinding down against the bed for comfort. With the sight of you grinding against the bed, your moans, and his own words working him up, HongJoong pulled out to cum all over your lips and chin with a loud moan of your name. You gently licked your lips as HongJoong calmed down, his still hard cock pressing against his stomach as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. He smiled at the sight before his thumb moved along your lips, cleaning you off before he grabbed a towel, wiping off your face fully.

HongJoong uncuffed you before he got on the bed next to you, his hands helping you move to your back as he slowly pushed into you. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist as he leaned down to place his elbows onto either side of your head as he met your eyes. His eyes we not as dark as before, but softer as he slowly moved his hips. His hands soon intertwined with yours as he began to rock his hips to meet yours, placing small kisses around your face. "I know you're tired baby, just one more for me, ok? God, you're so perfect."

"One more" you purred against his lips, making him moan at your true fucked out state. He nodded, moaning against your lips "yeah, one more for me, baby. Fuck, I love you."

You felt your heart swell at his words, whispering that you loved him too as you both got lost in each other. HongJoong pressed his forehead against yours as he moved, pressing small kisses to your nose whenever he could before he moved to stuff his face into your neck. He felt his body heat up as he felt his climax approached, his breath now short as he let out a broken moan of your name as if he was calling out to you.

"Y/N...baby, I'm so close for you, I love you so goddam much" he moaned, moving to see your face as he moved faster, wanting to watch you fall apart. "Say my name, baby. Say my name while you cum for me. Let everyone know who you love"

"HongJoong," Your eyes rolled back as you came, your name leaving HongJoong's lips as he came with you, his hands slipping from yours to hold your face in a deep kiss as he shook. You wrapped your arms around him as you both rolled over onto your sides, the kiss slowing down to simple pecks. You both panted against each other's lips, holding each other as you both slowly came down.

HongJoong was the first one to move, standing up to go grab a towel before returning to you with shaky legs, both of you laughing when he fell onto the bed. He gently cleaned you up, whispering more praises to you and your pussy before he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your sides.

"So, you love me, huh?" Your question made your boyfriend of two years blush before turning away, making your smile grow. You moved to place your hands onto his shoulder, making him face you once more before you said "I love you, HongJoong. I wrote a whole damn album about you, so don't be the one getting embarrassed"

Your words made HongJoong smile and laugh, nodding before pulling your back down into his embrace, smiling at you snuggle into him. "How do you think your album is doing on the charts right now?" He asked, grunting as he stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. You hummed against his shoulder, shrugging as he placed you on the toilet before going to turn on the shower.

HongJoong handed you your phone as he went into the bedroom, letting you check while he gathered shower stuff. When he returned, you had a bright smile on your face. "Number one everywhere and trending. Everyone is complimenting me and the producer."

Your words make your boyfriend laugh, placing the towels, lotion, and clothes onto the bathroom sink before he aimed the black camera to face the shower, making you smirk. "Why'd you bring the camera in here, baby?"

HongJoong smirked as he helped you to your feet, walking back into the shower with you as he said "I'm help you get inspiration for your next album. That's what a good producer does, baby. And, you're lucky, because you have one of the best helping you. Now, make sure you're loud enough for the camera baby, this all might be useful for another secret track."

Bambikisss | 2024

#bambikisss #~bambi #atz icons #ateez #ateez smau #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez smut reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez hongjoong

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g0ldenzinnie · 2 months

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Princess Treatment x NCT 127

Featuring: Nct 127 Hyung line Genre: Fluff, suggestive, sweet boys and a little of them being dom. Word count: 2.7k Note: Sorry for the delay but here they are, soon I'll publish the maknae line and then the Johhny fic. Hope you like it <3.

Taeil x cooking for you.

Even though he has the money to buy you a whole restaurant, he cooks for you every time he can. And I don’t mean cooking fried eggs and rice for dinner. I mean plates worth three Michelin stars. He would make you try new and extravagant things. However, every single one of them is cooked magnificent under his hands.

“Try this” He spoke, offering you a spoon with sautéed vegetables. You were sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. Watching your boyfriend getting inspiration. You bend over and eat his creation, being delighted with the result.

“Taeil, it’s so good.” You said smiling. He was looking at you determined. “Really? He asked looking at every detail of your expression to see if you were telling the truth. “Because I think it’s salty.” He says, trying another spoon, leaning his head and nodding. “Yeah, it’s salty.”

“Baby, it’s fine. Now can I help you please? I feel useless here.” You said getting down from the kitchen counter and facing the other vegetables he had on a kitchen board. But you couldn’t even touch them, since Taeil wrapped you in his arms and took you away from his working area. You tried to resist, but he made his grip stronger. Smiling at how cute you looked, trying to get away from his arms.

“You won’t move a finger my love. You are my princess after all.” He then leaves you on the door of the kitchen and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Now, please relax on the couch, watch your series and your dinner will be there in no time.” He said smiling brightly to you. You sigh and roll your eyes. “Fine. But next time, dinner’s on me.” You reclaim while you direct to the couch. But both of you knew Taeil would still cook for you anyway.

You were watching half of the episode of your series when Taeil arrives with two plates. He then comes with a fancy bottle of wine and two glasses. Maybe the dinner looked fancy, but you would still sit on the couch with the coffee table as your dining room.

That is the thing you loved about being with Taeil. He felt like home, a comfy and warm home. But still he would never make you feel ordinary.

You talk about everything, Taeil listening carefully as always, asking you questions about your day or the gossip of your workplace. His focus is completely into your words. As if it were some kind of sonnet. When you finished talking and eating, you tried to get up to clean up the dishes, but he stopped you, pushing you to the couch.

“Baby, at least let me clean the pl-” You were interrupted by a kiss on your lips. He smoothly takes the plate from your hands and leaves it on the coffee table. Guiding his hands now to your tights, going up slowly to your waist. “They can’t wait.” He said close to your lips with a playful smile. You chuckle before kissing him back.

Johnny x Princess Passenger.

Johnny's favorite dates were when you just got into the car and drove. It didn’t have to be somewhere in particular. He just needed you in the passenger seat, some music and the road. So, everything you asked for in the car was yours. You wanted to drive through? Right away. You wanted to put on the music? Ok for him. You wanted just to sleep? Bend the seat, he’ll be quiet.

For him, you could be doing anything and still love your company in the car. But he had one condition. As you know your boyfriend very well, he is very clingy. He needs to touch you to feel easy. And that includes even when you are in the same car. It can be touching your hand, or your thigh, or something else. Even though you love that about him, you would still tease him some days.

And today was definitely one of those days.

It was 10:00 PM, when Johnny called you. It was a surprise since you thought he would be working till late at night. “Hello?” You responded confused on the phone. “Let 's ride.” Your boyfriend responded with his usual excited voice. You can already imagine that playful smile on his face at the other side of the line.

“I thought you were working late.” You said while putting your shoes on. “Well, I am…” He said on the speaker. You try not to laugh, because you know your boyfriend. “And?...” You responded, making him continue. “Well, I escaped.” He confessed. You laugh. “Johnny, one day you will get fired.” You said getting up from your bed. You heard the laugh of Johnny through your phone.

“Just get your ass in my car. We’re going to get ice cream.” The thoughts in your head disappeared when you heard the magical word. “Yay! Ice cream!” So now you were in his car eating your favorite ice cream, hearing pitch perfect. Your life couldn’t get any better. “Give me some.” Johnny asked while driving. You handed him a spoon, and naturally like a professional he ate it with his eyes on the road. You found that so hot about him.

By instinct, he then leaned his head towards your hand. Looking for your caring, As I mentioned before, you were feeling a little playful. So instead of letting him feel your hand as you usually did, you removed your hand.

Him, completely confused, tries to catch your hand again. But you put it out of his reach, again. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, looking at you weird. “Nothing” you say while holding your laughter. He nods and tries another move, this time reaching your tight. His grip was firm and secure. You bite your lip, knowing that he is just trying to provoke you. You loved when he grabbed your tight like that.

But still you removed his hand. You let out a little giggle when your boyfriend again tried to touch you. Letting him know that you were just messing with him. So he decided to pay you back. This time he used a little more force into his grip. Leaving your skin with red marks. You hold a moan biting your inner cheek. Johnny smirking at your reaction.

“If you take out your hand one more time, I’m gonna have to pull over and punish you princess.”

Taeyong x Giving you flowers

It was believed that victorians gave the yellow tulips the meaning of “there's sunshine in your smile.”

This man would remind himself that every time he encountered you, he would have to give you flowers. And not just any kind of flower. Every time he gave you one, this would be different than the last one.

And every single one of them had a specific meaning. He would probably investigate what kind of flower is and the meaning of his color. And do you think these flowers come alone? No, no. There is always a little note with a rhyme he created just for you.

You were at your work cafe when you suddenly felt two taps on your shoulder and turned to find no one. You shrink your eyebrows, thinking you definitely feel someone calling you. To your surprise, you turned around and found a beautiful bouquet on your face. The man holding them was hiding behind them. But of course you knew who it was.

“Tae, I thought you were on practice.” You say holding the bouquet and finding Taeyong behind with a smile. “I was, but that doesn't stop me from seeing my princess.” You smile sweetly hearing those words and looking at the flowers.

They were beautiful yellow tulips. Taeyong, seeing your smile, grins for himself and says “That’s the smile.” You look at him confused, not understanding what he said. “What?” He shakes his head and just gets closer to you, placing a short and sweet kiss on your lips.

“Nothing baby, c’mon I only have 10 minutes.” He quickly takes your hand and runs to one of the tables in the coffee shop.

During those 10 minutes you talk about nonsense. Taboo topics like the gossip in your workplace and in his. Some drama that happened with the members, ending in another hilarious fight between Haechan and Doyoung.

You laugh when Taeyong tells you this, imagining the dynamic duo screaming like they usually do. But you didn’t notice the moment you started laughing, Taeyongs chest filled with the air, gasping at how beautiful you looked right now.

It’s just when you laughed, you took his breath away. It was like a hundred start lights were blinding him every time your smile appeared. And he was delighted by it. Without him noticing, he raised his hand to take yours.

His gaze softened, focusing on you and you only. You stop giggling and look at him confused. “What?” He shakes his head, smiling now. “Nothing just… I love you so much.” You smile and intertwine your fingers with his. “I love you too.” He responds smiling and leaning closer to kiss your lips, but he was interrupted by your boss.

“Y/n, stop smooching and get your ass back to work.” She says from the board. Your boyfriend giggles and looks at you mischievous. “Someone is calling you.” You sigh and nod.

You get up from the chair, grabbing the flowers. “Thank you.” He smiles and caresses your cheek. “Of course princess.” He kissed you and left waving his hand like a little kid. You waved him back and went back to work.

Afterwards, when you were alone and more calm, you checked the card that was attached to the flowers. When you read the message you blush and feel a warmness in your chest.

"Her smile shines like rays of sunlight on a gloomy day, just like an angel, with every smile, she shines away the rain clouds, making my heart sway.”

Yuta x dress you.

This might be understood as he chooses all of your clothes, but no. He literally dresses you. He must put on your clothes all the time. Zip your dress, put on your hoodie, lock your necklace, anything.

But his favorite thing in the whole world is to tie your heels. He has something with your legs, So whenever he finds an opportunity, he touches them. And you knew it, so you used it every time for your own pleasure.

One night, you were preparing yourselves for a gala party of the company. Yuta was tying the aces of his shoes on the bed, wearing a black suit that fit him in a way that should be illegal. The first two buttons of his black blouse were open, making his chest clear to the open. You bite your lip, watching your sexy boyfriend being totally naive of his reaction to you.

So, since this morning you have been feeling a little… playful, you decided to tease him a little. You walked smoothly to him, Yuta still unaware of your presence. Just when you were in front of him, he raised his gaze.

“What’s wrong darling?” He asked softly. You smiled in return, looking down at him. Slowly you raised your leg, leaving it discovered because of your black long leg cutout dress, until your heel was between his legs, pressed against the mattress.

You gave him an innocent look, that both of you know it was fake. Still, he smiled wide looking at you up and down. He loved this act of yours. You smile in response and ask softly. “Would you help me baby?”

He analyzes your leg, going down slowly, finishing in your unwrapped heel. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re trying to provoke me, princess?” He says before straightening to have a better posture. You just shrink your shoulders. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He giggles at your act of innocence.

His hand went to your leg slowly. Caressing your calf with his thumb, sending you chills to your core. He then reached out for your heel. Tying it like a professional, since he has done this so many times.

After finishing, he gets close to your ankle leaving a soft kiss on your skin. You chuckle at the sensation, making your boyfriend have his known playful smile. He tapped your leg twice. “The other one, please”.

You obey him by changing the leg. He makes the same process. His thumbs moved gently, like your skin was made of glass. You close your eyes, feeling relaxed and aroused by his movements. As you always did.

But you suddenly feel a little puncture on your leg. You let out a little scream and open your eyes, to find Yuta giggling. He had just bitten you. You gasp looking at him outraged. “Meany” You say smiling. “Teaser” He responds by getting up quickly, wrapping you in his arms and starting to kiss your neck.

You giggle and try to stop him. "Baby the gala." He separates and smiles playful. "Don't think you're getting away with this. The night has just started princess."

Doyoung x pays for everything

This man doesn’t even let you take out your wallet. You find amazing the ability Doyoung has to pay that fast. Whenever you try to pay, he already has his card in his hand, saying that “he got it.” It happens in restaurants, fairs, malls, even in gift shops. You can’t escape Doyoung’s money.

Even when he was not present.

You were facing yourself in front of the hairdresser mirror. With your new haircut, that you would still be trying to settle with. You wanted a change for this year, so you thought that your hair would be the perfect victim.

“So what do you think?” Your aunt asks, owner of the hairdresser. You always got your hair with her. She had an undisputed talent.

“It 's amazing. Thank you auntie.” You respond, getting up from the chair. “So how much do I owe you?” You turn around, facing her. When you do, you find a nervous face. Shrinking eyes and a tense smile.

“Yeah well, about that…” You look at her confused, but in just two seconds you got your answer. “No he didn’t” You say angry. Your aunt gives you an expression of defeat. “I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. And he gave me, well, a good tip.”

Of course he did, you thought. You thanked your aunt once again and went directly to your shared apartment you had with your boyfriend downtown. Knowing he would be there, to finally face him.

After a 10 minute walk, you finally reach your apartment, finding Doyoung on the couch. He gave you a wide smile, analyzing your look and instantly loving it. “Someone is looking gorgeous.” He says flirty getting up to embrace you with a hug.

“Thanks to you.” You say in a not so motivated way. He separates from you, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You paid my aunt for my haircut.” He didn’t change his confused look. “So?” He asks you. You sigh and separate to go to the kitchen. “I wanted, for once, to pay for something by myself.” You turn quickly. “It’s not that I’m not thankful.” Doyoung shrinks his eyebrows. “Good, because you don’t seem like it.” You close your eyes in desperation.

“That is not what I wanted to express.” You pause for a moment, and sight. “I just… I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You feel your chest heavy, finally confessing that you felt guilty everytime he wasted his money with you.

But for him, it wasn't a waste. He got close to you, slowly to not scare you. You long for an exhausted or tired face on your boyfriend. But you only find a sweet and dearing face. Doyoung takes your face gently, caressing your cheeks with your thumbs.

“My princess, you can use me in any way you want.” He got close and gave you a peek on the lips. “It will never bother me.” You giggle and shake your head. “That doesn’t make me feel better.” You respond, wrapping your arms around your neck. He chuckles and gives another kiss on the lips. This one is deeper and stronger. He separates, giving you little kisses on the cheek and starts to talk in your ear.

“Maybe you’ll feel better when we go out and eat in a nice restaurant. So everyone can see that new haircut of yours.” You smirk, taking your boyfriend's face, for him to see you. “At least let me pay for dessert.”

He then smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “You are the only dessert I need.”

#nct #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #127 #moon taeil #nct yuta nakamoto #doyoung #lee taeyong #taeyong nct #johnny nct

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