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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park.

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street.

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel."

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection.

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot.

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder.

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes.

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over.

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted."

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again.

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe.

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road.

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'.

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too.

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work.

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?"

"Okay," she echoes.

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue.

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make.

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'.

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him.

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand.

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable."

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare.

"Yes, you are."

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body."

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving."

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically.

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms.

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options.

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet.

You're daunted.

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question."

"I don't know. Without?"

"You are so weird," he says happily.

You pout and pull Junie closer.

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two.

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone.

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection.

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?"

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him.

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone.

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you?

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?"

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness.

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs."

"Don't tempt me."

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping.

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation.

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?"

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow.

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-"

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness.

"I guess she's old enough."

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should.

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces."

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you.

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly.

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke.

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down.

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it."

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing.

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers.

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently.

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb.

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw.

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing.

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog.

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble.

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!"

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated.

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath.

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper.

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?"

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another.

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted.

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos."

"I saw."

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?"

"Subtle."

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson."

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold.

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?"

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound.

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers.

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap.

"Why?" Junie asks.

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?"

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her.

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant.

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle.

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed.

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy.

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears.

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV."

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour."

"No," she whines softly.

He covers her unhappy face with his hand.

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear."

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better.

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly.

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through.

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed.

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted.

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me."

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air.

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine.

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat.

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something.

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to.

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks."

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts.

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you."

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie.

He knows it for a fact.

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face.

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!"

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea.

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside.

Junie lifts her flushed face.

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet.

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings.

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?"

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention.

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers.

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime.

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy.

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh.

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are.

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep.

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking.

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?"

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid.

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred.

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt.

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake.

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all.

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me."

"What?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants."

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares."

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder.

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie.

She raises both arms.

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks.

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired."

"You're alright to walk out to the car?"

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts.

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you.

It's a cool, crisp night outside.

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating?

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road.

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick.

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes."

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water."

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special."

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door.

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head."

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say.

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car.

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head.

You're staring at him as he opens the door.

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?"

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?"

"Kiss it better?"

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion.

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted.

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright.

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially.

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side.

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt.

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here."

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her.

"Eddie?" you ask.

He turns. You look miserable.

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression.

"Thank you."

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog."

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous."

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur.

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love.

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap.

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues.

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything."

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg.

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg.

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully.

"I should go home."

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear.

"Can you hug me?" you ask.

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation.

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine."

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me."

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?"

"Ow," you whine.

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts."

"Why's everybody always on top of me?"

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?"

"No!"

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it."

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug.

"I'm not sitting in your lap."

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest.

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden.

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone.

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in.

Long minutes of quiet hugs.

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried."

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart.

"I wasn't," you say.

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page.

You get really, really sick.

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle.

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend."

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home.

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said.

And now here he is again the day after.

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say.

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks.

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes."

"This is just something I had lying around."

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head.

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-"

"That is in terrible taste."

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think."

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts."

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently.

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption."

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves.

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV.

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks.

You grin to yourself.

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June."

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to.

"Fun," she says.

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you."

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown.

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry.

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment.

"Don't baby me."

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head."

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight."

"What does she want for dinner tonight?"

"Boo! Exactly my point."

"I'm gonna go ask her-"

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave."

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word.

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything.

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to.

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now.

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing."

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious."

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-"

"Mild-"

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!"

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party."

"I promised."

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?"

"You can't."

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday."

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do."

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman."

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me."

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot."

"Name-calling."

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?"

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move."

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin.

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls.

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close.

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much.

"Freckle."

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends.

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry."

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff."

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard.

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it."

"I said, 'You're an-"

"Amazing friend and confidante?"

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?"

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said."

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat.

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands.

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws.

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash.

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-"

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper.

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life."

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on.

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face.

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes.

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish."

"Eddie…"

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar."

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs.

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious.

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up.

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely.

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length.

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression.

"Mis'd," she says.

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully.

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms.

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?"

"You're not very convincing."

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender.

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue.

"She might've. You tell her enough."

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic."

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain.

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck.

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time."

"Mommy," she says into your neck.

"That's me."

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts.

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing.

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist.

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please."

"Thank you."

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-"

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-"

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me."

"What does that mean? Of course I did."

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie.

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?"

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin.

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?"

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity.

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles.

You and Junie wave him off.

"To work?" Junie asks.

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?"

"To work?"

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now."

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you.

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow.

But apparently he's coming back tonight.

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock.

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair.

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention.

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said.

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne."

"You don't wanna be here."

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do."

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know."

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?"

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb."

"You keep saying that."

"You keep being dumb, boy."

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat.

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning.

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle.

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence.

"Hot shower," you explain.

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features.

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence.

Eddie's better than okay.

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it.

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy."

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot."

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero."

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes.

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now."

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth.

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend."

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face.

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it."

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of."

"Even murderers?"

"Maybe not murderers-"

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?"

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject."

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you."

"You do."

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be."

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall.

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks.

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning.

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe."

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?"

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is."

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften.

"What if I was?" you ask.

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone.

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast.

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt.

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer.

"You're so fucking pretty," he says.

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap.

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose.

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp.

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone.

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy.

"I'll make you sick."

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat.

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes.

You don't answer.

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch.

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close.

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears.

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own.

You have to feel it.

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully.

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever.

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does.

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough.

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters.

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt.

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly.

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything."

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes.

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart.

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips.

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore.

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head.

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that."

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous.

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter.

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic.

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you."

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good.

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips.

"What?"

"I…"

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me."

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly.

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back.

"Just wanted to do that," you say.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #Single mom!reader #reader insert

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leoascendente · 2 years

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PAC // The next chapter in your love life 💖

Hi babes! Welcome to another PAC. This is about what is about to come in your love life because of this Venus starpoint, remember this is a general reading so take only what resonates. This is mostly related to single people but there are also messages in every pile for people who are already in a relationship.

Take a deep breath and choose the pile you feel more drawn to, if you feel attracted to more than one pile read it as well, it might has a hidden message for you.

For private readings click here

Pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners.

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 3 Pile 4

1. THE MUSES:

Current energies:

(Cards: Queen of gems, 9 of gems rev, 6 of wings / 3 of wings)

Congrats pile 1! You've been making a hard work to nurture your own needs and improve your independence, you are being constant and consistent in this transit of healing you knew you had to go through to attract a healthy romance. You are releasing past pain related to relationships and your expectations about it, your perspective of love is changing for the better and you must be feeling it very soon if you haven't already. Now you feel more confident about yourself but also about what you are willing to accept in love terms, your standars are high but realistic, you are realizing what you really want in a love partner but being gentle with your needs and taste and you don't mind wait for your special person because the love you want to attract is like a twin flame connection, you want the one person that matches you and you know it's so worthy that you don't mind wait for your special person meanwhile you attend yourself.

What plays at your favor and what to avoid:

(Cards: Knight of wands, The well rev / Ace of cups)

Your passion and free spirit will be your card under the sleeve, putting energy into your personal long term goals and ignite the fire within you. You have found out something that fullfils your soul, you can be even aligned with your purpose on this lifetime, invest energy in what really awakes your passion and opens the road to your future happiness, even more if this is related to a career or a job. Don't hesitate when it comes to make decitions, be open to new opportunities and allow yourself to explore what those opportunities has in store for you, so open up to the world, love.

What you need to avoid is overthinking and spending too much time in your imagination, use it wisely to visualize what you want but don't let that visualizations be more real than your current life. Also there can be some insecurities that holds you back from taking the risk and embody the energy of the knight of wands, babe you are harder than the hard circumstances you've been through, trust yourself because you are unstoppable and filled with willpower.

I have good news for you! After a short time for you to embrace your fierce energy someone will come up to you with love intentions if you are single. This person is someone with clear ideas about what they want and they are not shy at all, they'll have an eye on you before you even realize and will give the first step to you in the most unexpected way, you won't see them coming. For people already in a relationship you can expect an unexpected but healthy movement from your partner that is going to bring so much happines and peace to the relationship.

Divine guidance:

(Cards: Religious factors, chemistry)

You've been waiting for so long, my love! Idk what you have been through in your love life but I feel a deep agony feeling in my stomach. Probably you have suffered a lot of anxiety with your past partners but I promise you, you will never go through that pain again, you had to learn the hard way but you learnt the lesson anyway and that helped you become the person you are today. Think that the people that did you wrong in the past were the ones who lost you, you haven't lost anything but gained a lot of wisdom through your journey, you are strong, you are fierce and you are wise give the proper value to your journey and all you had accomplished. Also you have an strong spiritual guidance and protection, they want you to know that the worst has left behind and your love life is going to improve very soon but you also need to open up and socialize a little bit more to see who you share that chemistry you've been looking for, you will find great friendships too.

Something relevant to know:

(Cards: Kisses, soul mates, addiction // Libra, the Moon, 4th house)

You are attracting a soul mate that is about to come, it's really close, someone who will fall deeply in love with you, for the ones who are already in a relationship this person you are with is the one you can build a life with. For singles, this is someone completely new, nothing from your past or at least, if you know them you never had anything romantic with this person. They are straight forward with you from the very first moment, they will want everything with you and that might scare you when happens, their intensity and assertiveness can be too much for you at the beginning. This person is fast but steady, they know what they want and go after it with no hesitation and that straight forward attitude can be intimidating for you but it's because a blockage you have within related to codependence but I feel at the same time some trust issues, that's why the cards through all the spread reminds you to trust yourself and don't try to control the uncontrolable. Don't let fear of what could go wrong stop you from reaching the happiness you've been looking for, let your feelings guide you, you'll realize that this person makes you feel happy, safe, respected and supported, they'll be what you wanted so bad so just thank it and enjoy it.

Your person looks very attractive for many people, they have this charming magnetic aura around them, they have a great taste of fashion too, probably has many secret admirers. You can know them through a family member or someone you know from your childhood (I hear something about an school classmate), you could also meet them at night, they have something that feels familiar for you even if you haven't ever seen them before. They are very into pda so they will try to get close to you and touch you when you two spend time together, I see this specific situation of you two sitting in a sofa and there's something between the two of you, like a party bag or a cushion and they try many times to throw that obstacle away to be closer to you. They are emotional but don't like feeling vulnerable so they might try to hide this sentimental side of themselves (but they will probably cry when in a movie a pet passes away), their love language is mostly physical touch. They might be a Libra moon or has the moon in the 4th house.

Manifest love:

(Cards: Supermoon, Cardinal moon)

Listen to your emotions, babe, they are trying to communicate some traits you weren't aware of related to the way you handle relationships in general not just in romantic terms. As the previous part said, you are dealing with some kind of attachment or addiction that is keeping you blocked and in a melancholic vibe. Be conscious about this attachment when it wants to sabotage you, be bold and overcome that fear, deep inside you know there's nothing to worry about.

2. POCAHONTAS:

Current energies:

(Cards: Strenght rev, Ace of roses rev, Death / The moon rev)

I see you very confused about your love life, there's a lack of understanding to what is happening to you in love terms. You are dealing with self sabotage, my love, I see very specific situations... you might be working with attraction or assumption law visualizing what you really want but on your ideals for a partner there is a lot of confusing energies. Maybe you want someone adventurous and fiery but at the same time someone that loves to stay at home and be like a teddy bear, grounded and stable, idk if I'm explaining this imbalance correctly, you need to be more precise with your intentions and aware if what you want to attract is really what will make you happy in the future. For others I see you very rigid in your standars and rejecting people very easily without giving them the proper time to really know those people and if they can match you. If you already have a love partner you might be unconsciously looking for flaws in them because you are not feeling very plenty but in whichever scenario you are in you need to give an step back to see this situation with perspective because this blockage is related to fear, and it'sprobably a repetitive situation you've been involved before, like the people are different but the situation is the same. You need to see if this insatisfaction is within you or is because of the romantic interest you are dealing with, maybe you are preventing suffering and not allowing yourself to feel to protect your heart. If you are single you must analyze if you are sabotaging the love opportunities that the Universe brings you, if you are already with someone analyze as well if you are feeling bad because something is happening within you or this feeling is caused by the person you are with. Don't fear looking at this aspect of yourself because the lesson behind will break a karmic pattern.

What plays at your favor and what to avoid:

(Cards: 2 of pentacles, 7 of swords rev / 4 of cups)

When we spend too much time alone with ourselves we begin to love more our own company and avoid spending energy with some people, this is even more deep when we have traumatic past experiences. You might be so comfortable with yourself that involving with somebody else looks like a nice idea but uncomfortable at the same time, you would like to but maybe another day. Babe, if you feel ready for love you just are, open up to love and enjoy but if you are not in the mood you need to respect that feeling as well. If your heart feels ready to open up just allow it and avoid mental games or trying to look for the flaw, if your heart is calling you to spend more time alone do it too, listen to your heart babe, if you don't the only thing you will get is the feeling of insatisfaction.

Divine guidance:

(Cards: You deserve to be loved / healing family wounds)

Self care is the key! Giving yourself the love you want to recieve is what you need to do to attract the love life you dream of. For singles, this moment is calling you to dig within yourself and attend the wounded parts of yourself that are still bleeding, mostly related to your inner child and your love language. For the people with a love partner is almost the same, you need to know what you like and dislike in love and your emotional needs, is a selfish mindset to expect from our partners to solve our problems or know our needs if we haven't told them or we don't even know our needs, is like asking to our partner for reading our minds instead of communicating what we want or need. Self discovery is also a love story, babe, the most unique one, I learnt some time ago that when we need something from others is because deep inside we feel unfulfilled and ask for someone to fill that void we feel uncapable to fulfill, this trait is really unhealthy for both parts of the relationship, the healthy midset would when you feel so satisfied with your life that you choose the right person for you, choosing instead of needing.

Something relevant to know:

(Cards: Wedding rings, engagement ring, the phoenix / Piscis, the Sun, 4th house)

For the people who already are in a relationship I'm happy to say that your person is going to have a very deep commitment with you, making you release any doubt you were having. For some of you your person can even give you an engagement ring if you are at that stage of your relationship, for others can be getting a pet or moving together. After this movement everything will change for the better and after a while you will wonder why were you so scared for such a wonderful outcome.

For singles, this is about commit with yourself and what really makes you happy, give yourself the love and treatment you like and deserve because soon after someone will approach you when you less expected. Get to know yourself deeply, babe, you'll fall in love with the fantastic human being you are, you can ask your guides for help too, they are always there to give you a helping hand.

The person you are attracting is someone that wants a serious commitment, they feel ready for a long term relationship. They are very emotionally mature people but also very romantic, their love language can be spending quality time together and acts of service because they will want to make your life easier. Your person is someone creative and doesn't fear expressing their sensitive nature, their job can be something that involves creativity too. They are warm and charming, the way they love is pure, loyal and deep, they will feel like a safe place for you. They might be a Pisces sun or has the sun in the 4th house

Manifesting love:

(Cards: New moon in gemini / Supermoon)

Communicate your feelings babe, speak your truth to those who love you and tell them about your true feelings. Your emotions are overflowing right now and that can lead to confusion or overwhelming, saying out loud what we feel makes us realize of the things we weren't aware of, and if we speak with the people we trust they can give us another perspective of the situation. If you don't feel comfortable or if it's hard for you to find someone to trust your feelings you can write them as well, create a journal where you can express and unblock your throat chakra, but babe, there are people around you can trust, just look better the people around you. Singing can be very healing too.

3. Lilo and Stitch:

Current energies:

(Cards: The chariot rev, King of gems rev, Queen of gems / The lovers rev)

I feel that the major part of this pile is for people with somebody already in their lives, can be a solid relationship or just a romantic interest, if you are single go read the part of Manifest love, there will be more information for you there. If you've been doubting of this connection listen carefully to that gut feeling. Well... are you sure you want to spend your precious energy in this connection? Think about it with cold head, maybe you find out how draining this relationship is for you. All cards are reversed but the queen of gems is upright (the card of the nurturer), what I see here is an unbalanced relationship where just one side of the couple is making the effort to make the other part happy, specially the femenine energy of the relationship (energy, not gender). Think about the love and care you are giving to this connection and if your person is commiting with it as much as you do, you probably find out that this is one sided connection and you are giving your energy to someone who doesn't seem to appreciate what you have to offer. You deserve someone who can't control an smile when they see you, someone that worries about you and wants to see you happy, don't settle down for less. You are too much art for someone who lacks sensivity 💕

If you are single, babe, just wait for a little more time for your person, the options that are around you right now are not the best options for you and if you try something with them it can be a very stressful and exhausting relationship.

What plays at your favor and what to avoid:

(Cards: 10 of pentacles; Knight of cups rev / The Hierophant)

My love, look around you and see how far you've come in your personal life, you are blessed and abundant. Some good news related to your resources or money are going to come soon if they haven't come yet, this is like a Divine gift the Universe want to give you to keep moving forwards and reach your goals. Invest more in yourself and spend more time with the people you feel comfortable with, you have some admirers so if you don't mind being the center of attention just enjoy it because you are magnetic right now for everyone who gets close to you, you shine bright and there are many people waiting to get close and know you better, there's something very beautiful and captivating about you that is very hard to resist, everyone who gets to know your precious heart will fall deeply in love with you, you are magical, babe and you deserve to feel that way.

What you need to avoid is to be expecting too much about the person you are dealing with romantically, take distance and let them miss you, they will show if they are worthy of your time and energy or not. They probably will be showing a very childish attitude, don't justify those kind of behaviors on others if you don't justify it for yourself, embrace your values and never allow anyone to act badly torwards you if you would never act that way torwards them. Be faithful to yourself and what you believe is right and if this person doesn't treat you with the love you deserve just let them go, they don't deserve you then. The first commitment you focus on should be with yourself.

Divine guidance:

(Cards: Religious factors; worth waiting for / Deception)

Don't get scared if you read the cards that dropped, all the spread tells you about the harm that is causing you your current relationship or connection. I don't want to tell you what to do but these cards and the cards from the next part of the reading are repeating the same, that person you are with is not your ideal person and someday, somehow they will do or say something that is going to be very revealing to you in the negative way.

There's an obvious deception and for some this will be more painful than for others, cutting ties with someone you've worked so hard to be with and you love is painful but is even more terrible to be with someone who only takes and never gives, being always expecting them to do something for you that they are not willing to do is heart breaking and you don't deserve to feel that pain because you are worthy of true and unconditional love.

Babe, by now give the love you need to yourself and don't expect it from anyone else, you are loving, caring and nurturing, you are the f*** Queen of Gems! Focus all that tenderness on you, pamper and also heal yourself, this deception is still or will be something painful that needs its proper time to heal so take care of your heart. As the cards say, the love of your life is worth the wait, be patient and take care of yourself meanwhile, your guides has someone very special in store for you, and great things takes time.

Something relevant to know:

(Cards: Broken heart, mask / Gemini, the Moon, 3rd house)

First of all, how is your throat chakra? I feel it needs more balance, sacral chakra does too. Babe, I know you won't like to know this but all the spread has been leading to this heartbreak card. The person you are dealing right now is going to reveal you their true face and will be very different to what you thought, their mask will fall and you probably won't like what was hiding under. I'm sad to tell you to be aware of their behavior because with their words they might try to harm you and make you feel bad, maybe agressive words are their survival mechanism when they feel exposed. Don't let them hurt your feelings, all they can do or say will reveal themselves, their true intentions and what they are capable of, it's nothing about you, remember that in this relationship you were the Queen of gems, they were the one that were taking a very narcissistic attitude.

Communication will be the best way to get an answer about your person, tell them about your feelings and desires for your relationship and see what they have to say, a serious conversation about the outcome of your relationship can give you a clarer vision to make a decition.

Manifesting love:

(Cards: Full moon in aries / New moon in gemini)

For the ones in a relationship the end of a toxic and harmful cicle is about to approach, be careful with your words, don't be agressive with them and don't tolerate if your person use harmful words torwards you. Even if your relationship gets a literal ending or just the end of a pattern, after that things will move smother for you, this situation probably has a karmic lesson behind.

For singles you might have been deceipted by the options you have for romantic terms or the people you have dealt with in your past, none of them really makes you feel that kind of love you are looking for. You are meant to spend the rest of your life with someone that really match with you, you look for something deep and if you are into the spiritual path you are aligning with the journey of twin flames. Your true love might take a little more time to reach your life but they will surely are worth the wait, meanwhile try to open up your throat chakra and speak with more people, a refresh in the people of your enviroment can be very helpful due to the dissapointment you have with the people already in.

You can meet your person through a sibling or cousin, it can be through really close friends you see as family. You'll recognize them by how well the conversation will flow between you two, that's the importance behind speaking more with more people so you can see the people you vibe with. Your person and you will have very deep conversations, you both will feel very comfortable with eachother and probably they will tell you things they wouldn't say to nobody else, the same for you with them. It will start for you like very good friends and things will slowly evolve into a romantic relationship.

4. Belle:

Current energies:

(Cards: The tower, The lovers, Queen of roses / 8 of gems)

Mmmm... Love is in the air for you, pile 4! You are not very focused in your love life or at least not interested right now, you are more into your work or studies, you are giving more importance to other aspects of your life intead of romantic relationships and it has probably something to do with a hard moment of your life you've been through or a big dissapointment you had with somebody (maybe a really close friend?). Anyway, by being focused into doing what you love you have attracted someone really special into your life, maybe you already know them but for the most of you I see you are not aware of this person but soon, and I mean very very soon (The lovers card in the present moment) will make a movement to start something with you. There will be a lot of chemistry between you two and a lot of sexual tension too.

What plays at your favor and what to avoid:

(Cards: The hermit, The artist / 3 of cups)

You've earnt a lot of wisdom after that tower momment you had to go through, you have leveled up your conscious and are more aware and sure about what you want in a relationship and what you are not willing to accept. Remember how wise and intuitive you are, and remember all the traits you are looking for in a partner, keep listening to yourself and don't be afraid to set healthy boundaries, not just in love terms but with frienships too.

You might have very high standars and that can make you see flaws where there are not, you like your time alone where you can visualize the life you want to manifest, this can make you run away from commitment, be aware of this trait when this person arrives in your life. This person comes to stay but being in the artist and the ermit mood for too long can make you delay the things you are trying to attract.

What plays at your favor are the people around you, specially 2 women that loves you deeply and want you to slow down with all you want to do and enjoy of the opportunities the world has to offer you, I hear a lovely laugh so you probably have a beautiful laugh that these two women wants to hear more often. You need to enjoy and have more fun in the present moment and have more faith in the future, you are very in tune with yourself so do things that makes you feel comfortable and happy, allow yourself to feel and go out of that ermit mode, youo'll feel great.

Divine guidance:

(Cards: Free yourself / Get to know each other)

If you read the cards I think the message is pretty obvious but let's go ahead! You need to release some fears, trust or commitment issues you are dealing with related to romantic relationships, you are more receptive to them in a more methaphorical way than to a real person. For some of you I feel that you daydream a lot about how your person should be for you two fit together but spending so much time idealizing your person can lead to loose from sight good oportunities you have around. This person you are meant to know is going to come to your life soon anyway, they have good intentions torwards you, the important thing here is to go with the flow and let the events evolve the way they should, don't try to control the situation or run away when things are not going how you expected. Get to know this person deeply using your emotional intelligence, don't force things to be the way you want them to be, I promise you this relationship will be better than you ever imagined.

Something relevant to know:

(Cards: Cupid's arrow; paradise; healthy choices / Taurus; Mars; 12th House)

Wowwww, I really love this 😍! There will be an strong chemistry from the start, even though you can be with your guards up this person is not going to give up easily, they are sure they want to make you part of their life and give you the love you deserve, this person is stubborn as hell when they want something, they don't hesitate torwards a challenge. They will show you a kind, respectful and unconditional type of love, probably you have never had a love story like this before, They will always try to make you feel comfortable, I think they will introduce you to their friends and family pretty soon, they want you to be with them, they see something in you that they knows will make them very happy and wants to give you the same in return. You'll feel safe and stable with this person, I feel this person is going to feel devotion for you, they are goint to trust you so much they will open up easily to you and tell you things they wouldn't say to anybody else... Tbh this is relationship goals for me. There will be so much love in here, but what I feel the most is you two being best friends, by each other side no matter the outside circumstances. Congratulations my love!

Your person is physically attractive, they have like solid and stable vibe, they look very friendly or maybe they are very very close to their friends. They are passionate people, probably has a high sex drive, they enjoy challenges but they are methodical and strategist to get their goal. They will love your company and will purpose you a lot of plans together but they would be happy just sitting on the floor if it's with you.They can be Taurus mars or having mars in the 12th house.

Manifesting love:

(Cards: Full moon in scorpio; Full moon in virgo)

This person is going to enter in your life very soon anyway but there can be some obstacles that interrupt the harmony of the relationship, is mostly about negative thoughts, misunderstandings and trust issues. Don't let negative thought patterns block you from being happy, remember your value and self worth, you are wonderful and beautiful just by being yourself so keep that always in mind. You deserve the same love you give so get sure it is unconditional and the best thing you can do for that is release those doubts and fears when they come and tell to yourself that you are good enough to recieve the kind of love you are looking for.

#Spotify #tarot pac #pac #tarotblr #leoascendente #tarot spread #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #tarot cards #love tarot reading #soulmate #twin flames

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sixlane · 3 months

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tricks up sleeves and all that

rosekiller microfic | 1,180 words | magician Barty, single dad Evan

The first thing Evan thought when his daughter told him she wanted a magician at her birthday party was how did I raise a child who enjoys close-up magic? It wouldn’t have been his first choice, probably wouldn’t have even been his last. He would’ve gone with something classier, more elegant, like a tea party or a day at the museum. Something to live up to the extravagance of previous years. Sure, Eleanor is only seven but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the finer things.

So, in between meetings and phone calls, Evan researched children’s birthday party magicians, and as you’d expect, not much was living up to his standards. After days of sifting through resumes and background checks, he was eventually able to find a well-designed website with good reviews and speak to a representative who promised to send their best.

This is why Evan is so confused when he opens his front door to find a tall, lanky man in ripped jeans and a worn out t-shirt, his look complete with ruffled hair, an eyebrow piercing, and excessive amounts of tattoos.

“You must have the wrong house,” Evan says. He thinks he should probably close the door but something about this man is intriguing. He wants to look for just a second longer.

The man leans back to check the address beside the door. “You’re Mr. Rosier, right? I’m here for the birthday party. I’m Barty, the magician.”

Evan raises a brow. “You don’t look like a magician.”

“Were you expecting a full tuxedo? It’s like 95 degrees out.” A tilted grin spreads over his face, showing off a pointy canine. “Here let me show you.” Before Evan can back away, Barty is reaching behind his ear and producing a shiny quarter, flipping it between his fingers confidently. “Ta da.”

“That’s hardly magic,” Evan says, crossing his arms. He better get a full refund if this is the best they had.

“No, you’re right. That’s just the decoy.” He raises his left hand, and between his thumb and pointer finger he holds Evan’s watch, which had previously been secured to his wrist.

Evan’s mouth drops open slightly. He hadn’t even felt it. “That’s not magic either, that is literally stealing.” He snatches the watch back, putting it on.

“It’s the art of misdirection,” Barty explains. “I do a dumb coin trick, and while you’re paying attention to that, I do something more impressive. It’s like, the basis of all magic.”

Evan doesn’t even know what to say. This man has just pickpocketed him on his own front porch and now he wants Evan to let him into his house?

At the same time Evan is getting ready to slam the door in Barty’s face, Eleanor appears at his hip, smile wider than a mile across her face.

“Is this the magician, Dad?” she asks, tugging at his shirt while she bounces up and down.

“You must be Eleanor,” Barty says, squatting down so they’re at eye level. He’s performing now, Evan can tell. He lights up and his smugness from before is washed away. “Would you like to pick a card?”

Eleanor nods enthusiastically.

Barty pulls a deck out of his back pocket and starts shuffling. Evan watches the way his fingers move deftly around the cards. Bending and flipping them expertly before fanning them out in front of her.

“Okay, go ahead. But don’t tell me what your card is, just show it to your dad and put it back anywhere in the deck.”

Eleanor does as instructed and shows Evan the card, ace of hearts, before sliding it back in.

“Thanks Eleanor, that’s great.” He starts shuffling the cards again, adding in flourishes here and there. Evan watches intently, trying to track his every move, see where he might be switching cards out or taking a peek, but he moves too quickly for Evan to stay on top of everything. “Now Ellie, can I call you Ellie?” Eleanor giggles and nods her head. “Your dad here,” he tilts his head up at Evan, “has already seen me do a trick similar to this, but I think I can put a new spin on it, what do you say?”

Eleanor looks up at Evan, affronted. “Dad! You’ve been playing with the magician without me?”

Evan hears Barty try to stifle a laugh and feels the beginning of a tension headache spreading behind his eyes. “I was just making sure he was up to our standards,” he grits out.

“Don’t worry Ellie, your dad was just doing his due diligence.” Eleanor looks appeased and waves her hand in a motion that tells Barty to continue. He does one last shuffle and then reaches behind Eleanor’s ear. When he pulls back, he has the ace of spades in between his pointer and middle fingers. “So Ellie, was this your card?”

She looks confused and a little disappointed. Evan holds himself back from kicking Barty directly in the face. “Um… close,” she says. “Mine had hearts on it.”

Barty looks at the card. “Huh. You know, sometimes the cards don’t always do what we want them to so we have to shake some sense into them. He starts waving the card quickly back and forth. When it comes to a stop, Barty holds the ace of hearts where the ace of spades had previously been. He smiles in triumph. Evan still kind of wants to kick him in the face.

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal and rushes forward to tackle Barty into a hug. “Can we keep him, Dad?” she screams directly in Barty’s ear. He doesn’t even flinch.

Evan lets out a resigned sigh. He’s really never been able to deny Eleanor anything, so he steps to the side, opening the door wider, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Of course Eleanor. Go gather your friends in the living room. Barty will be right in.” He places a hand on her head as she runs by.

Barty stands up and straightens his pants out, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Good enough?” he asks, shrugging a shoulder.

Evan scrutinizes him for a second, running his eyes over every inch of the man. The line of his cheekbone, the curve of his neck, the way his thumb rubs a circle into the side of his pointer finger. There’s something about him. Evan hasn’t heard Eleanor scream that loud since Pandora got her a bug collection kit for Christmas last year.

“I want you to know that I keep a detailed inventory of everything in my home, so if you steal something I will find out, and you won't be happy about the consequences.”

Barty smiles, something mischievous glinting in his eye. “We’ll see about that,” he says brushing past Evan to make his way into the living room. Evan closes the door behind him. Right before Barty turns the corner, he throws something over his shoulder. Without thinking, Evan catches it. His wallet. With the ace of hearts sticking mockingly out of the top.

#this came to me in a dream #idk they make sense to me #like pickpocket barty who goes on to be a children's birthday party magician?#evan hires him for every event after this and always offers to hang up his jacket meanwhile he's seam ripping his sleeves open #trying to figure out where barty keeps everything #then sewing them back up #rosekiller #barty crouch jr.#evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #rosekiller microfic #lane writes #marauders fanfic #marauders #microfic tag

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writerpeach · 2 years

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Pet - Part Three

Choi Yena x m!reader

word count: 8.7k

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

part one

part two

Saturday night at the izakaya wasn’t your favorite place to be on the weekend, but it had its own share of benefits—cheap beer, the friendliest bartenders, and the best fried chicken in the city.

Sitting down at your usual spot, the small table in the corner practically had your name written on it, far enough away from the heavy chatter, yet still close enough to grab a bartender’s attention if needed. Icy cold mugs filled with beer, several side dishes, and a centerpiece of juicy, fried chicken packed the table.

Drinking with Yena didn’t happen often, usually reserved for special occasions, but an exhausting week deserved just that, especially with a table filled to the brim with delicious food that didn’t last long.

Yena was unusually quiet, and that made you suspicious—you knew she was planning something up her non-existent sleeve.

After downed beers, and emptied plates, one last piece of succulent chicken remained that went to Yena at your insistence. Of course, she couldn’t just savor every last bite quietly, and had to make a show by licking her fingers clean. Politeness went out the window as it often did with Yena, but she never cared—not when it gave her an excuse to make a lewd display of slurping her messy fingers one by one.

Yena's chicanery had diminishing returns.

Nothing really pushed your buttons like before, and you still had something up your sleeve if Yena got too out of line.

As expected, Yena selfishly ordered one more thing—her favorite dessert, a bowl filled with the biggest scoop of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and extra sprinkles. Excessive for sure, and normally you’d warn her about so many sweets this late, but when she looked so happy after that first bite, you didn’t bother. Not like she would listen, anyway.

“Mmm, it’s so good,” Yena said, borderline moaning while she took a rather large spoonful. Traces of ice cream frosted her lips that she licked off, towing the line with another obscene gesture. “This whipped cream is delicious, too. It tastes much better than the one you licked off my tits the other night.”

There really weren't any barriers Yena wouldn’t cross, but any attempt held little weight when the bar stayed loud and rowdy. Not that it dampened the smirk on Yena’s little mischievous lips when dipped her toe into the deep end. “But it doesn’t taste as good as master’s huge hard cock.”

Before now, anything Yena tried would warrant an instant reaction, with cheeks embarrassingly redder than the cherry on her ice cream. But these days, her teasing behavior held little power other than eliciting a chuckle, while you held all the power in your hands with one little app.

Yena was oblivious to the phone in your hands, too immersed in a different world of sugary bliss. Somehow, she had forgotten about the pink bullet shoved between her legs, but you’d give a blunt refresher. After a couple of taps on your screen, it hummed to life—a gentle reminder you held all the cards.

When the sensations hit, Yena’s eyes went wide as you jogged her memory. A single, solitary jolt, and oh shit etched on her face, put an even bigger smirk on your face. Then the best part—an audible gasp that Yena failed to cover with her hand, instead dropping the spoon against the edge of her bowl, the loud clank against the rim unfortunately too muted to hear in a crowded bar.

Ignoring Yena’s embarrassed gaze, your fingers danced with the slider that controlled the toy between her legs, changing between various speeds before dropping down to something barely noticeable.

“Master—”

Yena tried to be discreet. Even at a low level, she couldn’t sit straight with the unforgiving pulsations running through her needy little cunt. You loved seeing her squirm, a subtle consequence for her actions that turned her face beet red, but not because of the beer that had infiltrated her system.

With her gaze held front and center, Yena didn’t move a muscle, yet felt like the entire bar had eyes on her, desperately trying to contain her moans, which honestly made the challenge even more arousing.

Catching her breath, Yena could deal with the low dull vibrations that gave little pleasure, if any. The uncertainty drove her crazy—the abrupt changes from a stable buzz to short taps, then elongated surges, left her unable to expect when the next morsel would arrive.

“Master, p-please,” Yena whined, and let out a breathy moan while she closed her legs tight. Unsurprisingly, it did little, but kept a smile on your face that only widened as you upped the intensity to max level for a heartbeat before dropping it back down.

“Oh fuck!” Yena caught her mouth this time, but nearly toppled over. One of your rules was never leaving the house wearing panties, but this was the rare exception where you deemed it necessary to do so. By the time you left, they’d be ruined anyway.

You only granted a short-lived respite, turning the toy off just long enough before Yena’s body could cool down, making sure not to form any type of recognizable pattern. Like a game of chess, the goal was to always keep her guessing, and the intensity became a roller coaster of stimulation. Helpless and flustered, Yena sat there moaning under her breath, and tried not to cause much commotion while she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Easier said than done.

“M-master, please,” Yena softly begged, with desperation in her eyes. “There’s a bathroom right there. Lock the door, and then you can take this vibe out of me and shove your big cock inside me. Wouldn’t you rather fuck me senseless instead? Or pull my hair while you pound me and wrap your strong hands around my throat?”

Yena was wasting her breath. No amount of puppy dog eyes or batting eyelashes would goad you into withdrawing from your plans. Denial was the game here, and Yena would be at the mercy of your whims until further notice.

“Not a chance, kitten. You’re going to stay here until your ice cream is all gone.”

Frustration had never been so clearly etched on Yena’s adorable face than it had now. For her, it was a deadly enemy, but for you; a powerful ally, one that helped you retaliate against her persistent need to act out. Making matters worse was knowing the in and outs of her body, what her limits were, and how best to breach them. Saying you were having the time of your life toying and teasing Yena would be an understatement.

Through all this constant stimulation, Yena tried to finish the last spoonfuls of ice cream in a feeble attempt to distract herself and gain some peace, like her pussy wasn’t throbbing helplessly.

“What’s the matter, kitten? Too much? Too bad. Those pretty blue panties you wore before I shoved this up your little cunt must be so drenched right now, right?”

It was hard not to laugh when you had the upper hand.

The agony on her face grew clearer than day, and you almost felt bad for her. Almost. Yena couldn’t think straight, and really picked the wrong night to wear a short dress, dripping down her clenched thighs after each torturous vibration. She’d soak through the useless fabric between her legs soon enough.

Staring at the wall became Yena’s only defense, no longer maintaining eye contact as she white- knuckled and became best friends with the edge of the table. If only the bar patrons knew what was happening at your isolated corner. Not like Yena wouldn’t get off even more from it. Regardless, you could watch Yena falling apart at the seams for a lifetime.

Of course, you wouldn't actually allow Yena the sweet satisfaction she craved. As tempting as getting Yena off in a crowded room of people in various states of inebriation would be, it was much more fun stringing her along, a perpetual carrot on a stick. At this point, the ice cream in Yena’s bowl had been entirely forgotten, and melted into a creamy puddle, an imitation modeled after the poor squirming girl herself.

You figured Yena had one more round left before the real begging started—the desperate cries, frantic pleas, and last resort offerings, but you’d never give them any attention. Given the chance, Yena would crawl naked without hesitation from one side of the bar counter to the other just for a chance of release.

So this time, you doubled your efforts, and kept the vibrators settings hovering around the upper intensity, cautious not to push her too over the edge that she couldn’t come back down.

In this state, it was easy to rile her body back up the same way, an endless tease that robbed her of an orgasm over and over again, and the look on her face after every denial was a perfect picture you would never forget.

Yena couldn’t hold out much more, only staring into nothingness while she bit her trembling lip in a last ditch effort to quell the desire between her legs. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but sooner or later, it would end. One way or another.

Yena wasn’t even sure she could get off at this point despite everything, so frustrated, yet so turned on, being toyed like this. The ache in her core wouldn’t leave, leaving her so dripping wet that maybe, just maybe, if she just shifted the right way—

“Don’t even think about it, kitten.”

Yena wasn’t against playing dirty so she could get herself off without permission, and you knew she would try anything to bend the rules, so you shut the toy off well before anything resembling an orgasm could happen, making Yena let out the biggest whimper of the night.

“Master!”

“Kitten, your ice cream isn’t finished.”

A quick change of subject, and while it was the least of her worries right now, it still made Yena‘s lips pout when she looked into an empty bowl of disappointment. “But it’s all melted.”

“Is that my problem? I told you to finish it before we leave.”

Too frustrated to bring forth more complaints, Yena complied while she slurped up the rest of her ice cream like a proper kitten. Without words, she sat in silence, thankful for a break from the throbbing between her legs, despite the peaceful moment doing nothing to settle her dripping center.

“Sit there, kitten. Keep your hands on the table, and just think about me fucking you on this table. Think about how I’d bend you over, rip those ruined panties off you, and let everyone here see what a drenched little slut you are.”

Yena wouldn’t hold back from making a mess underneath her seat with such an active imagination. Despite the lack of vibration, she felt an increased arousal that was difficult to manage.

“Kitten wants that, don’t you? You want everyone here to watch me use your pretty little cunt? You know I don’t like being gentle with you. I’d pound you so hard until the entire room could hear you scream. They’d all be so jealous, wouldn’t they?”

“God, master—please, fuck me right here! Fuck me so everyone can see what a whore I am for master’s cock!”

Fantasies be damned, it was pitiful they could never become reality. “I’d slap your tight little ass so hard, pull your hair, and just ram my cock inside you. I’d make you cream on my cock so many times, and I wouldn’t even make you ask for permission.”

Yena really couldn’t take it. With feral thoughts of being stretched in public drove her crazy, she clenched around the unmoving toy. Now seemed like the perfect time to turn it back on, but you skipped any sense of build-up and went straight for the highest setting—straight for the killing blow.

Once more you tested Yena’s core, and you only lowered the intensity one solitary time, before spiking it back up. If she made it over ten seconds, then well—maybe she’d be in luck.

“Look at me, kitten,” you demanded, and she shifted her gaze to you. Yena could barely close her mouth, let alone keep her focus on one spot, and surely you would let her finally grab what she wanted…

But you continued driving her imagination wild. “After kitten came on my cock so many times like a greedy little slut, you’d beg me to finish inside, wouldn’t you?” Yena frantically nodded. She was so close, about to explode that just anything would set off her imminent release.

“Oh my fucking god—”

“Kitten would moan so much when I fill you with a nice thick load, and every person here could watch it drip out of you. They’d all get to see how much I pump inside you every day, wouldn’t they? They’d all get to see what a good little cum dump kitten is.”

“Master! I’m going to—”

Maybe you’d give Yena what she wanted—if only she acted like a good girl.

“Cum?” you interrupted with a devilish grin before you switched the toy off and shoved your phone back into your pocket. “No, kitten. You’re not.”

The last denial drove Yena to the point of insanity, further on the brink of gushing through the seat, accompanied by tears that welled up in her pretty lust-filled eyes.

“Please, master!”

It wasn't like it wasn’t Yena’s fault that she was in this situation, nor was it against her will to have a small vibrator placed inside her pussy before you even left the house. But the endless teasing, lewd gestures, and lack of discretion to let anyone in earshot know how badly she wanted to be railed. It all tallied up, and it was time to pay.

Perhaps this was the best way to enjoy a bar, bringing your own brand of fun. Emptying little by little, the place grew into a quiet calm. Closing time was imminent. You had gotten everything out of the evening, even though it was the opposite for Yena.

“We’re leaving, kitten.”

“Wait, I almost—” Pointless protests wouldn’t be answered, regardless of how effortless it would be for Yena to achieve her desired outcome. The risk factor wouldn’t be worth it with fewer people left.

Trapped in purgatory was a worse outcome than Yena had bargained for, and the littlest movement might set off a tidal wave of an explosion, which without exception would be suitable for punishment.

“Don’t care. We’re getting out of here,” you said, apathetic to another outcry, and gently grabbed Yena to stop any further objection. Left behind was a puddle of arousal, impossible to miss, but for all anyone knew, it was nothing more than spilled beer.

Before leaving, you spotted the bathroom Yena suggested, and just for a second you considered it. But again, only good girls deserved that.

✦ ✦

“Bedroom, kitten.”

As soon as you spoke, Yena obeyed without opposition. Woefully unaware of what was next, she walked towards the bedroom, taking small, graceful steps, and disappeared inside.

You followed one step behind, and without instruction, Yena dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor. Still on edge from every tortuous denial, she looked up silently, her heart beating faster while anxiously awaiting orders.

In public, Yena would do her worst to disobey, to push your buttons, to draw out your patience, but once she stepped foot inside this room, her bratty demeanor vanished. She would follow anything explicitly ordered with zero doubt or hesitation.

“Good girl.”

Yena beamed at two brief words, waiting with bated breath, in her favorite position—on her knees where she felt right at home.

“Want your cock, master.” If that was her opening statement, it was a rather pitiful display of words.

“Doesn’t sound like you want it.”

The pout etched on her face alongside dark, widened eyes told a different story. “But I do, master! I need it so bad. Please, master—need my throat filled with your delicious, yummy cock. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.”

She could do better, but it was a start. You’d make her beg properly when the time was right, but right now—you needed those burdensome clothes removed from her tight little body.

“Strip for me and you might get it.”

Not missing a beat, Yena obediently surrendered control like you had trained her to. “Yes, master."

Back on her feet, Yena didn’t dawdle, and lowered the straps of her colorful dress down her shoulders before pulling it off, letting gravity finish the job. Underneath, you could see the pale, smooth skin of her toned body covered by a black lace bra, and the highlight of her figure—soft, ample breasts that bounced with the slightest movement.

You interrupted for a quick heartbeat while your eyes roamed the beautiful skin available, and couldn’t help but mark her up. Starting at her neck, where you bit hard enough to leave a bruise, you left a matching mark on the opposite side, then slowly moved downwards to the curve of her collarbone. After several deep, slow, deliberate sucks that brought a loud gasp from Yena, you circled back around again to kiss each reddened mark, before gliding your tongue down to suck just underneath, leaving a plethora of little love bites on her bare flesh.

“Who do you belong to, kitten?”

“I belong to you, master. Kitten is an object for pleasure, my body is always available for master’s use at any time.”

“Good girl,” you said, then swiped your tongue over the red spots that had formed over Yena’s creamy skin, and gestured for her to continue.

Yena made an exhibition out of her body, flaunting every deadly curve that your eyes wandered, from the curve of her hips, to her wonderful flat midriff, then that amazing full chest, every inch a sculpted masterpiece. Patience wasn’t something you had in wealth, so while you watched with approval, Yena reached behind her back, unhooked her black bra, and freed her large breasts from their confines.

The reveal of her scrumptious tits never got old. More than perfect, your eyes feasted on beautiful, heavy mounds that widened your eyes, that barely fit in your hands, and you wasted no time giving a delicate squeeze.

Her rosy nipples were erect and perky, which came as no surprise, ready for attention, eager to be touched and tasted. Whimpers left Yena’s pouty lips when you flicked each sensitive nub, and the littlest touch of your tongue against them sent shivering pleasure up her spine.

“Ah, master!”

Yena’s swollen breasts were extra sensitive on a normal day, but after dozens of orgasms robbed from her all in one night, a gentle breeze would be more than enough to set her off.

So after a little more teasing with your tongue, you sucked on her breasts, lips sealed shut around each nipple. Over time, suction turned more aggressive, drawing out more gasps that made you slurp with satisfaction, grazing your teeth against Yena’s nipples and proceeded to downright devour her delicious breasts.

Yena was so wet she could hardly keep herself from squirming as you sucked harder, and tested her sensitivity by giving her nipples another tug. She gasped, her toes curling into the plush of the carpet, but your mouth stayed latched on to her scrumptious tits, switching back and forth until you covered both in marks, bites, and abundant saliva that added to her arousal.

You thrived on the cries of pleasure that escaped Yena’s lips while you suckled on her stiff nipples. It would be so effortless to make her fail, yet undeserved to make her climax with such ease. With clenched thighs and gritted teeth, Yena held on, desperate to prevent an unpermitted orgasm.

“M-master—” The moans she made only further formed a smile on your face.

“Hands behind your back, kitten.”

She obeyed instantly, hands cuffed together behind her back in an imaginary bound. Your lips curled into a devilish smirk, and squeezed her tits harshly, then slapped each in succession, watching them jiggle and savored the pathetic little whines she made.

Once more, you repeated this, and aimed your palm directly at her taut nipples that made the perfect target—again, twice, three more times, taking advantage of the thriving sensitivity that shot like lightning through Yena.

You could do this over and over, but you were done playing with her tits—for now. The painful bulge that formed in your pants needed to be dealt with, and there wouldn’t be a better way to find relief other than Yena.

But you didn’t let her off without exploring the nakedness that blessed your eyes. After one more greedy squeeze of her chest, your hands traveled down her stomach, felt up her tight abdomen, then gripped her hips before pressing two fingers to her clothed core with a new wetness that made her body shiver.

“Kitten, get on the bed.”

Another order that Yena respected, as she looked away from you while doing as told, climbing the bed at your bidding. Bent over in the most appetizing way, the thong draped around her hips nestled between milky-white cheeks, and looked so utterly appetizing that you gave her backside a necessary sharp smack that made Yena yelp.

Taking her time, Yena laid down flat on her stomach, and you pulled your shirt off to reveal your bare chest that Yena loved to kiss and worship. Her mouth filled with saliva as you slipped your jeans off, your bulge dominating her view.

Yena had to control herself, or risked being caught in a trance. After she helped tug your underwear off and tossed them aside, she licked her lips while staring at your shaft that leaked with precum, eyes full of anticipation. But even her patience had limits—she couldn’t take her eyes off your hardened cock, craving it like an addict going through withdrawals, desperate for a fix.

It put a wide grin on your face when you stroked your shaft mere inches from those cock-hungry lips—just enough to make her moan with pangs of jealousy.

“Want a taste?”

The question was painfully unnecessary, but a timid nod still came as a response.

“Use your words, kitten.”

“I’m so hungry for your cock, master. Please, I’ve been waiting so-so-so long for you to fill my throat. Just shove it right down. Don’t be gentle. Grab my head and fuck my mouth until I can’t even fucking breathe.”

Yena’s eyes grew larger and larger as she put on her best performance. “Please, master—let me choke and gag and drool on your throbbing cock. Make my throat bulge, use my body for your own pleasure. Just cover me in your cum from head to toe, then fill my tummy with your hot, thick load. I’ll swallow every drop, I promise! Please, please, please!”

Begging like that was always so goddamn satisfying, and you would reward Yena for her efforts. One more stare into her lust-drowned eyes, and you granted what she earned—a throbbing shaft that fit perfectly in her delicate hands.

Her bright eyes kept their attention on your length, refusing to look elsewhere. Yena gripped the base of your cock like it was a delicate package, astonished at your size.

"Master feels so hard," Yena said in awe, maintaining eye contact. When she first stroked your cock with a deft touch, it twitched between her fingers.

She kept a smile etched on her features, while her hand tightened around your shaft, trying to wring out every bit of pleasure. Delicate pumps turned into firm, repeating strokes, as Yena savored every inch with impatience in her eyes. Her wet tongue slid alongside your length, and she puckered her lips into a chaste kiss on your swollen cockhead, making you groan with such an indulgent act.

“Delicious,” Yena said, before her tongue licked your leaking slit. Lapping anything that escaped, her mouth traveled down your length in a trail of wet kisses, covering your shaft all over with an audible mwah every single time her glossy lips met flesh.

Now that Yena had what she desired, she wouldn’t waste a second. Cherishing the weight of your throbbing length on her hot tongue, she painted a road of warm saliva up and down, with her lips gliding up both sides, sending vibrations when she hummed around it.

“Thank you, master,” Yena graciously said in between eager, appreciative smooches. “Thank you so much for letting me worship your beautiful, perfect cock.”

Those words of praise weren’t something Yena used up, and each set of tender licks and messy smacks accompanied more compliments of your stiff member. “Master, I love how good your cock tastes in my mouth. It feels amazing between my lips. I wish I could just gulp down your hot, sticky loads forever and ever.”

But for now, Yena rubbed your cock on her needy lips, continuing to stare longingly at you, with hot breath on your shaft. Her hands kept occupied; one stroked your shaft, the other taking great care to massage your balls, a well-oiled machine of bliss that worked together like a dream.

Yena was getting a bit daring, but you couldn’t complain when her lips parted and brought you inside the heavenly warmth of her mouth. The sharp spikes of pleasure that followed elicited a groan louder than expected, and she sucked greedily on your tip, hollowing her cheeks.

It was what her mouth was made for, after all. Those selfish lips—those gorgeous, dick-sucking lips wrapped so well around your throbbing shaft as Yena sucked on your engorged head, causing a torrential spike of intoxicating pleasure.

The way Yena casually bobbed her head while her wet mouth slobbered on your dick had never felt better, and before you knew it, you were firmly down her throat as she took you deeper, doing her absolute best to please you. She sucked you off with those sweet innocent eyes glued to your gaze, and her devotion to swallowing you down her throat was second to none.

But just like Yena was selfish, so were you, even more so.

“Kitten…”

“Yes, master? Am I making you feel good?” she asked, with a strand of saliva spilling down her chin. She really was—goddamn she was, but you needed more than just a pretty set of lips around your cock, and you had no qualms on taking what you needed.

“God, I really need to fuck your throat,” you groaned. It wasn’t a request, and you weren’t asking—you needed to bury your length deep inside Yena’s warm mouth fucking now.

Her eyes lit up brighter than ever. After a handful more firm strokes, loud slurps, and wet licks, she pulled her warm mouth from your cock, and rolled on her back, scooting towards you enough until her head was hanging upside down off your firm mattress.

Such a pretty upside-down mouth never looked so good at this angle, so much so that you couldn’t resist rubbing your cock on her glistening lips, then rested your entire length on her beautiful face. Yena moaned at the thick, heavy flesh, like a treat dangling as a reward for her patience that she had none left.

“You can fuck my throat all night, master,” Yena insisted between swipes of her tongue on your shaft and balls. It was all you needed to hear as you plunged your length deep into Yena’s inviting throat in one swift motion, and groaned out loud when Yena choked on your shaft.

Now that you had full control of her throat, it was time to go all in, even as the sensations of her warm mouth that surrounded your shaft sent your senses reeling. After taking a deep breath, you gathered yourself, then slowly pumped your hips, sending your throbbing cock into the slippery depths of Yena’s throat that tightened around your length.

“Fuck, kitten! Fuck, just stay like this while I use your throat.”

Not like she could really do much, but the new position made it more of a pleasure to thrust into her mouth, every forceful plunge hitting balls deep with ease. When Yena dug her fingers into the silk sheets underneath, you knew she wanted to touch herself, but she didn’t deserve that—not without your needs being attended to first.

So without mercy, you rammed the entirety of your cock down Yena’s throat, and made her choke again, and again, and again, until the sounds became muffled by your thick cock buried inside. How rough you were was not a concern—it never was, since Yena always had the option to tap out, but showed no signs to do so.

Free to do as you pleased, you used her warm, hungry mouth like a toy, built only to serve your pleasure, with her occupied throat working like crazy and her mouth watering from all the messy leftover spit.

Your pretty toy became a string of sputtering gags and forceful coughs, an endless loop of gurgling that grew louder even after Yena relaxed. She welcomed each rough thrust that stuffed her throat, yearning for more while you worked her throat, until her mouth became wetter, and streams of saliva covered her lips that clung to her face.

Moving now at a relentless pace, the thrusts that Yena swallowed up were quick and brutal, sending a combination of tears and ruined mascara spilling from her eyes as you forced your length deeper down her throat without mercy. Your hips were ruthless, unconcerned, absolutely careless, and that was the only way Yena liked it.

Meanwhile, the bountiful chest inches from your face presented itself for your viewing pleasure, and you took advantage and played with Yena’s tits. Capturing them filled your fingertips with the softest flesh imaginable, as the satisfying wet sounds of her throat being fucked were all you heard.

In the meantime, you took a slight breather, allowing Yena ample opportunity to gasp for air and recover. Yet, she wasn’t concerned with gathering back oxygen, opting instead to latch her warm messy lips on your balls while you stroked yourself.

“Ah fuck, kitten, fuck! I just—I just need to destroy your fucking throat.” Yena knew how to handle your cock after all, so without another word, you guided your dick into her impatient mouth once more, then proceeded to slam back in, harder and faster than before.

Off the bat, your pace grew much more frantic, more ferocious, but it still wasn’t enough for Yena, and she reached for your thighs, urgently pulling you deeper down her throat. The needy squeezes she gave your thighs signaled to up the ante, despite your messy plunges nearing the maximum level of roughness. Still, you escalated your efforts, determined to ruin what remnants of makeup were left on her features.

Her throat became a symphony of sinful sounds; the most beautiful, ecstasy-filled, unadulterated wet noises, choking on your length like she had something to prove. The wetter your cock got, the more unhinged your hips became, raining down powerful thrusts into Yena’s needy little mouth. With ceaseless momentum, she greedily devoured every inch, her throat bulging beautifully with every movement you took.

During this all, your pretty little pet was a mess. A beautiful, disheveled mess, checking off all the boxes with ruined makeup, watery eyes, and saliva that spilled uninterrupted, thanks to the continuous barrage of harsh thrusts into the messy depths of her throat.

Your limits were on the cusp of being breached, a dizzying upward spiral, and it took a herculean effort to hold on. “Kitten, fuck, I’m so close. Your throat just feels too damn good.”

Maybe if her eyes weren’t filled with tears, you could see the glint in them.

Pressing on, you knew where Yena wanted your release. It was obvious she wanted her mouth full with your hot load, and if it were up to her, she’d beg and plead to guzzle your cum, but it wasn’t—only good girls deserved to swallow.

In the heat of it all, you found the self-control to withdraw from Yena’s tight, raw throat, leaving copious amounts of saliva in your path, as you took furious strokes towards the point of no return.

“Is master going to paint my face?” Yena asked, while she slurped on your balls to further encourage your release, her tongue sliding across the underside. Even covered in spit, the look on her face begged for it and you couldn’t say no.

“Master has been making me wait all night. Please cover me in cum, master. Cover kitten in your huge, thick load until it's dripping down my face. Kitten needs it so badly, please, please…”

Your eruption didn’t take long—the tightness in your core flew past the breaking point, off the rails, until it snapped like a twig.

Yena waited patiently, tongue out, while you used her face as a canvas, unloading on her gorgeous features with an initial burst of hot, viscous spurts that landed on her chin and coated the side of her neck. The rest of your load glazed her cute nose and cheeks, before you showered down semen on Yena’s remarkable, well-used lips and sent creamy bursts into her inviting mouth.

You let her take over, her delicate hand stroking vigorously to drain everything from your balls as she finished up your orgasm, ensuring every dribble and drop landed either on her face or in her mouth. Yena basked in the moment, while she savored being bathed in the heavy load that began to drip down her cum-soaked skin, grateful for every last drop.

“Thank you, master. It feels so warm…”

Lying in bliss, she licked her lips to taste what was available in reach, then used her fingers to greedily scoop up the results of your orgasm into her mouth, before she took a few more sloppy swipes with her tongue to polish off your shaft.

“So good, master. Your cum always tastes so good, so warm down my throat. Kitten wants more.”

Greedy as always. Yena would get more, but it wouldn’t be in her mouth. Not today. Judging by the way she stroked your cock and kept your erection strong, Yena had energy in heaps to spare, still wet and dripping on the mattress. You knew she was dying to cum, and it was time to reward her patience.

One last look at her disheveled face, then you joined Yena on the bed, where you planned to give everything and more—a merciless, much-needed fucking. Dragging her back enough so she was halfway on the mattress again, you peeled her panties off in one fell swoop, tossing the tiny vibrator between her legs out of sight.

“Kitten, pick a color."

Yena needed little time to consider her choices and went with the default favorite. “Pink, please.”

“Good choice. Don’t move.” You lifted her slender arms above her head, pinning both wrists together. After placing a kiss on each, you locked them together with a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs that made a loud distinct click, securing her hands in place. Yena was fully at your whims now.

Flashing a smile of reassurance, you cupped Yena’s face, using your thumbs to rub soothing circles against her cute cheeks. “Too tight, kitten?”

“No, master. You can do anything. Have your way with me,” she said, her husky voice rich with unbridled desire, and you hadn’t heard a better set of words. As you lowered down to Yena’s wonderful hips, her legs spread on instinct, and you stared at her gorgeous, glistening pussy, every beautiful inch of bare skin rejuvenated your body like a pure shot of adrenaline.

No more time left for teasing or holding anything back, you took in the view, with every flawless inch of Yena’s naked body available at your disposal to be tasted, marked, or defiled, in that specific order. With your intentions set, you lifted Yena’s smooth legs up onto your shoulders, and guided your stiffer than ever shaft towards her welcoming heat.

When you lined yourself up, you didn’t question if Yena was ready—the look of absolute desperation told you everything words couldn’t. There was no easing in, no gentleness to spare while you nudged against her slippery entrance, and in one smooth stroke you filled Yena to the hilt.

She groaned loud enough to echo along the walls, and without warning, your hips snapped hard enough that your cock slammed into Yena’s slick warmth with force that rocked her whole petite frame.

“Oh, oh f-fuck, master!” It was the first real taste of pleasure she’d had all night that wasn’t a toy, and just one harsh thrust overwhelmed her. Guided by warm, heavenly wetness, your shaft filled Yena, then exited until the tip of your cock stayed inside her, making her tight little cunt clench around you, then repeated it all over while you found a rhythm to your liking.

“How does that feel, kitten?” you asked, the repetitive motion of your hips letting you plunge deeper into Yena’s warmth. In no time, you were pounding her senseless as the bed creaked in protest with your frantic movements.

Yena had a hard time finding the right words for a moment, and with her cuffed hands she scrambled to grab a double fistful of sheets. “So good, master. Master’s cock feels so thick, so deep. I love being split open like this! Kitten feels so good, so stretched!”

Her sense of enjoyment encouraged you to go even harder, to sink your cock deeper until it bottomed her out, only pulling back long enough to slam Yena into the mattress again. Sounds of rhythmic slaps of your thighs crashing together echoed throughout the room, and she moaned and moaned while your strokes became harsher and more frenzied.

“So fucking tight, kitten. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, master! Please don’t stop!” she begged, but you wouldn’t dream of it. Yena clenched more the harder you fucked her, letting out breathless moans over and over as you kept her slick warm walls filled with every last inch of your throbbing shaft.

Hitting her sweet spot never came as a challenge, and you did it so often with ease that her draped legs trembled nonstop. Little time passed since you slipped inside Yena, but given her fragile state, it came as a surprise that she hadn’t immediately gushed on your cock upon your first entry. Regardless, you could sense Yena was near, so without hesitation you leaned forward until her ankles lined up above her head, fucking her in a way that your constant plunges felt even deeper while her feet dangled in the air.

“Master, oh fuck, master fucks me so well!” Yena cried out, and couldn’t hold on much longer,

her orgasm building like a dam about to burst. The two of you locked eyes, and you knew what was next, what was inevitable—but you wouldn’t deny her this time, not when she looked so desperate and needy. With the sweat on her legs collecting on your fingertips, more clenches followed harsher thrusts, Yena had little time left before she tumbled over the edge.

“M-master, kitten needs, kitten needs to—”

Yena needed relief more than air, and three little words set off a nuclear bomb of ecstasy. “Kitten can cum.”

She reached her peak on the spot, so eager, so aching for release, she could taste it. Turning into jelly, her tight body gave in as her eyes shut tight, back arched off the bed, walls pulsating so hard it almost hurt you. Yena let out shrieks as she achieved such a thigh-quivering, toe-curling orgasm she nearly passed out, every bit of her undulating body no longer under her control.

Several moments later, Yena’s body settled down, but that was just the start. You didn’t let up while you fucked her through the tidal wave of an orgasm, as more sharp aftershocks took hold of her body, rapid pulsations still squeezing your length. Another powerful climax ripped through Yena that made her body spasm once more, the fluttering walls around your dick releasing a flood of sweet juice that never seemed to cease.

“Master, please! Too much! Too much!”

The unrelenting nature of your hips refused to listen, while you ignored the begging, and pounded away into Yena hard and rough with your fingers kneading her tits, tugging on her sensitive little nubs until she came again, over and over. Yena could only claw the sheets with her locked hands still over her head, her cunt throbbing in a whole different way, crying out with each new orgasm that gushed more slick on the mattress, soaking through the already stained sheets that turned into a river of arousal.

Yena would have a hard time walking straight in the morning.

Eventually, after the umpteenth climax, you took pity on her and stopped, but not without one more harsh slam into her body. Panting profusely, her sweaty legs flopped to the slick-covered sheets, just like your cock flopped out of her, covered in Yena.

“M-master…” Yena muttered, words barely even audible with her face flushed red, messy bangs clinging to her forehead. “Th-thank you, master. Thank you for letting me cum.”

“Kitten did well, so kitten got a reward,” you said, leaning down to wipe tears from her smudged eyes.

“But master needs to cum again, right?”

An astute observation, even as she had trouble stringing together words, with her limp body at the peak of exhaustion.

“Please, master—fuck me until you cum. Anyway you please.” Her words were weak, but the desire was strong. Yena’s body was all but a useless slump, but that mattered little—all you needed was a tight hole to fill.

“Of course, kitten.” Excited to get started again, you unlocked Yena’s handcuffs, rolled her flat on her stomach, then locked them back up with her arms behind her back. You took in her naked figure for a moment, admiring her cute butt and every detailed curve of her body covered in a layer of sweat from head to toe.

Yena didn’t have enough energy to look back, so she stayed prone with her face buried into the mattress and kept her legs together. On your end, fatigue was miles away when you knelt between her honey-slickened thighs, your erection ready and willing to find its home one more time.

“Kitten looks so pretty like this,” you said, as your swollen tip brushed against her messy folds, the calm before the torrential storm of lust, while you positioned yourself from behind.

The slide back in was anything but gentle—a rough, choppy wave of desire, unleashing a hurricane of thrusts that offered the same level of groans and moans from Yena’s lips.

Round two began with your hands groping Yena’s round, squishy buttcheeks as you pumped with reckless abandon into her slippery wet cunt stretched anew to accommodate your length, the best place for your cock to sheathe into.

You held Yena’s body with a tight grip, plunging into the familiar warmth, and used her taut body as a tool for your selfish pleasure. The constant rippling of her cheeks classified as an act of hypnosis for sure, but you wanted more—and you didn’t waste time in taking it.

From the start, Yena’s moans, whimpers, and cries resonated across the room, growing in volume the harder you went, and without interrupting a single thrust you kept a steady beat, pounding away as she kept her cuffed hands resting on her plump cheeks.

Now, this wasn’t your favorite way to fuck Yena, that award belonged to either the classic mating press, or letting her ride you—where you could lay back, make Yena do all the work, and stare at her perfect breasts as they bounced and bounced. Regardless, this position achieved what you needed—intense, deep penetration with minimal effort, eased by the discernible wetness between her legs.

As your pace amplified, Yena began to stir back to life, slowly recovering after being fucked senseless to a seemingly infinite amount of orgasms, keeping her cheeks spread for you. That didn’t mean she became more than a passive participant, but was content to vocalize how good you felt buried in her dripping pussy, with mewls and cries returning to a state of deep, satisfied moans.

You leaned down to kiss Yena behind the ear, then nibbled on her lobe while you snuck your hands underneath her sweaty frame to cup her tits, her sensitive nipples harder than diamonds against your palms. The walls of her cunt felt even narrower as you plowed through them, her slippery hole choking your length as you pounded her incessantly, making the area between your legs a massive pool of arousal.

Yena’s sweet moans were a metronome to fuck her to, an encouraging rhythm of bouncing cheeks that kept her pinned to the mattress while you used her like a proper fuckdoll.

“Kitten takes me so fucking well. Your pretty little cunt is just made for my cock, isn’t it?”

“Yes, master! Kitten loves being your fucktoy. Please breed me, master, fill my womb, give kitten all your cum!” she pleaded, like you could even imagine pulling out of her, like her wrecked pussy wasn’t desperately trying to coerce everything out of your balls. You just continued to fuck Yena like your life depended on it, with the only surprise being the mattress springs hadn’t given up and the entire bed hadn’t collapsed—but not for lack of trying.

And you’d certainly try. With Yena’s moans and cries of pleasure filling your ears, you gave it everything you had left—sweat dripped down both your bodies, your hips moved with unimpeded force, and your throbbing length impaled her to the hilt until your harshest thrusts made her feel you in her stomach. Fighting through exhaustion, you chased the palpable tightness in your core, fueled by an intense, unyielding inferno of lust, and pumped into Yena with unfettered aggression until you couldn’t take it any longer.

“This tight hole is all mine. Only I get to breed you, only I get to fuck you this hard. God, your pussy just makes me fucking insane. I’m gonna fill your pretty little cunt so fucking deep, and you better keep it in there. Keep that fucking load inside, and don’t you dare let a drop spill out. Understand, kitten?”

Yena nodded without words, silent moans the only thing spoken while she drowned in bliss. Nothing left in the tank, the persistent twitches in your shaft set off sparks, a match to a stick of dynamite of ecstasy in your loins that grew impossible to douse.

Unable to fight back, with a moaning growl, you spilled your seed into Yena’s craving cunt, filling her up with hot, thick spurts in the depths of her womb that made her clenching insides ache for more. Even after your balls ached and your legs burned, your thrusts weakened, yet refused to yield before you forced your sticky warm load deep as it could go.

In a battle between your raging urges to continue and fatigue, fatigue won out in the end. Your hips calmed down, and your breathing followed, ending out your last round by staying dormant inside the creamy, freshly fucked warmth of Yena.

“Good girl, kitten, such a good girl. Kitten did such a good job. Doing okay?”

“Y-yes, master. I’m fine. I loved it,” Yena said, with weakened words and panting breaths. If only you could stay inside her forever, but eventually you’d have to leave the warmth of her cunt to at least to change the sheets—the messy, Yena-stained sheets that weren’t just ruined, they were annihilated, unable to be used again. It was unlikely the bed came out unscathed, but you would worry about that at a later date.

As you removed Yena’s handcuffs and unsheathed from her gripping pussy, your cum slowly leaked out of her, a thick collection of semen that clung to her sweaty thighs and the ruined sheets underneath your exhausted bodies.

“Thank you, master,” Yena said, her words accentuated by shallow breaths. She flipped over on her back, and you rested your cock on her beautiful midriff, ogling at her marvelous breasts that hypnotically heaved up and down, her entire body glistening in sweat.

“Stay here, kitten,” you said, after a soft kiss planted on her forehead. Yena didn’t argue, and you came back swiftly holding a glass of ice water, with a bright yellow straw attached that she downed in one sip.

“Careful, kitten. Don’t choke.”

Yena gently nodded with a tired smile and wiped her mouth before setting up straight on the edge of the bed. The kiss that came after aimed for her plump lips, and after that you stroked her head, then fixed the sweaty strands of hair as best as you could.

“Do you want to take a shower or a bath, kitten?”

“Bath,” Yena said without even thinking. “A warm bath sounds amazing. With extra bubbles!”

“Of course, kitten. I’ll get it started.”

Moments later, running water at the right temperature became covered in suds, with the smell of jasmine and rose filling the room. One step inside the now dimly lit bathroom put Yena at ease, with warm candles illuminating the way as she entered with a bit of a limp in her step.

After your assistance, Yena stepped into the bubbly tub carefully, bending down to test the water, and giggled with glee. You could still see the pretty red marks on her once unblemished skin, each one a stark reminder of who she belonged to.

She soaked in the atmosphere, then lowered herself in until hot water surrounded her, taking a deep exhale while she wrapped her arms around your neck. There wasn’t a more peaceful place to be. Yena closed her eyes, relaxing her sore muscles as the bubbles caressed her skin, her whole body melting under the water in your arms.

Contented sighs and occasional splashes filled the silence as you both stayed silent for a moment, enjoying the relaxing water and warmth. Staring longingly into each other’s eyes, all traces of yearning desire had vanished, replaced with rich admiration towards one another.

“Thank you, master. This is wonderful,” Yena said, inching closer, and you lowered down enough to sink into the soapy water to match her relaxation.

“Kitten deserves it. Kitten did well.” With a soft caress of her face, you brushed a few strands of wet hair away as another round of cute giggles left her lips. After that, you leaned forward until your faces were inches apart, and delivered a kiss devoid of lust, tracing fingertips alongside her smooth naked back that became softer thanks to the warm water. Your touch sent shivers through her spine, and she couldn’t help but blush, unable to look away from your admiring gaze.

“Master, that was—amazing. I came so many times I lost track.” A shy smile appeared on her lips, like she felt suddenly embarrassed.

“Not too rough?”

Yena shook her head from side to side. “No, master. I love it when you’re rough and demanding. God, I can still feel how hard you fucked me. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow…”

The way she said it came with a sense of pride in her voice. “Don’t get too worked up, kitten. I don’t have any energy left.”

Yena laughed softly with pouty lips. “I don’t either, but I just wanna stay here forever.”

“Me too, kitten, but the water will get cold. And you’ll get all pruney,” you said, giving Yena another forehead kiss.

“But we can warm it back up. And I don’t mind as long as you’re here with me, we can be pruney together.” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as Yena’s compact frame clung to you tighter, burying her face into the crook of your neck.

“We’ll stay a while longer then.” The warm bath wasn’t something you wanted to leave either, so you’d add more hot water as needed, but you wouldn’t go overboard. Eventually, you’d have to clean up and get some rest.

“Thank you, master. You’re the best.” Yena purred into your shoulder. No doubt she’d beg you to rail her again in the morning, but for now, you’d just enjoy the company of each other's naked bodies.

Because Yena was the best pet anyone could ask for.

#izone smut #yena smut #yena #izone #kpop smut #reader insert #male reader

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obey-moi · 2 months

Text

I wanna imagine that the cards are a real thing in-universe. Like, the brothers, royals, Solomon and Thirteen all get put into a trading card game just because they’re all very popular individuals with their own fanbases Everyone’s card art is a little different from their actuall looks bc the actual people aren’t involved in the art production, so everone gets washboard abs and clear skin. It’d also be considered defamation of any of them are portrayed with a single blemish lol.

Of course Asmo collects ONLY his own cards and MC’s cards, even if some of them look off. “This one’s hair is too brunette but I love the SHINE they put in my lipgloss!” Or something silly like that. They go into a photo album binder where he gets other pieces of fanart.

Leviathan collects SO many card and knows the rules and decimates everyone at the games, but he absolutely refuses to collect his own cards. “Can you imagine if I played my own card as if I were actually cool? Like I had those powers, or l-looked as dashing a-as they portray me?? None of my cards would actually be good?? I’m JuSt An OtAkU??” Never plays the holographics of MC. Those get framed but never displayed. (MC finds them and they do the same to him since they both avoid their own cards. In fact they do a daily dropoff where if there’s an envelope under their door they can usually expect it to be the others’ cards.) He’s also a master of making different decks, like he has a deck for every sin, every person, etc. The Royals+Angels deck and the Envy deck are his favourite ones.

Mammon thrives on the Devildom TCG market. Rare cards go for a ton of Grimm! And also you wanna know why he keeps trying to sell pics of Lucifer, right? He knows one of the official card artists. “This was the outfit this card was based on, yeah? Here’s the followup of him rolling his sleeves and loosening his tie! And I bet you’re gonna love THIS one! Nobody can ever seem to get his angry smile just right until they see it in person, but this picture comes pretty close. Doesn’t it give you shivers? I can start at 1500 grimm. Also, could you tell whoever is making THESE cards to stop whitewashing the GREAT Mammon? Plzkthx :)”

Satan’s not much for card games unless a friend challenges him to a different, more classic game, like rummy or liar. But he does keep the trading cards he likes the most. Art is art, what can he say? They’re also perfect bookmarks. His fave is probably one of MC that captures them perfectly in his vision.

Lucifer thinks the whole TCG is just silly and doesn’t really participate in any of it........... But Priddy Boy’s gotta be ✨Perfect In Everything✨. The man has canonically been stated to be good a video games for the simple need to be good at everything, you think he wouldn’t study strategy and play like it’s chess or smth? That and in his Dad Wallet where he keeps pictures of his brothers (and MC), he keeps his favourite cards of them behind each respectful photo.

Beel doesn’t really collect or know how to play, but Beel has autographed many a card after fangol games, so he can at least understand it’s a collectible item. He tried learning from Leviathan how to play this one time, and it made sense to him for the most part. Card has Life Points, Attack Points, and Special Skills. Beat up opponents' cards and win. Not too different from most other card games. But there are complicated rules to it that he forgets or mixes up. He’d much rather use the cards like dolls and make them “talk” to each other.

Belphie also doesn’t play or collect, but he does enjoy getting his hands on the holographic cards. One day Levi was sent to look for Belphie to tell him it was dinner time. He found the youngest in the attic cutting up the cards into shapes and gluing them back-to-back, hanging them up like a mobile. Levi fainted backward down the stairs and refused to look at Belphie for two months straight.

Solomon really likes these cards! Like Satan he uses them as bookmarks, but specific Sin Colours and People get paired with certain books. Green Satan cards are used on cursed tomes or books about curses, blue Satan cards are used in art history books. Pink Asmo cards are left in Seduction Spell books, while yellow Asmo cards are for books about venoms from creatures. Etc. Makes categorization much easier!

Barbatos doesn’t collect, but he does know how to play. He referees for the Young Lord sometimes whenever Diavolo gets a chance to have fun.

Y’all know ya homeboy DIAVOLO is one of the biggest collectors! He and Levi are both DAUNTING on the “battlefield”, though Dia doesn’t take things so seriously like Levi does sometimes. He’s even commissioned actual paintings of himself and everyone so that those portraits can be made into cards. They’re the rarest ones, there only being one of each person out in the world. As much as Dia would have loved to keep those cards, he likes to watch the chaos of others scrambling desperately try to obtain an Ultra Rare Royal Painted Holographic. Besides, he still has the original paintings! (Also he likes to collect the DevilWendy’s kids meal toy versions of those “cards”, which are actually those plastic “gold” plated cards inside of “”””pokéballs””””. Adorable!)

Some Thirteen cards have special abilities based on real traps of hers. Some of Thirteen’s traps are based on some of the cards. She likes to tape some cards up like stickers to some of said traps as decorations. Or as part of the trap. She once tried to entice Solomon with a card, but Levi fell for it instead and nearly got impaled in a tiger trap she called “Super Duper Rare Double Dare #106”.

Mephistopheles says he doesn’t care about such childish playthings. But once the Diavolo released those Ultra Rare Royal Painted Holographic, and ‘Phisto got highest bidder on the Diavolo card, SUDDENLY he’s become Maximillion Pegasus and his signature deck is the Diavolo deck.

Luke isn’t really one to play, but he does like the art of some of them! He’ll put some in a scrapbook! It’s also another bookmark technique, where certain people’s cards get bookmarked on their favourite recipes. He got the idea from Solomon’s method of bookmarking.

Simeon also doesn’t play but mainly collects. Got a little hooked on it before Raphael moved in and the room was being used for Levi’s spare collection stuff. He was even given many of the Common ones for free (what Simeon did with common cards, Levi didn’t nearly care as much, and trusted him more with cards than he could trust Belphie with holo’s...). He’s collected all the Seven Lords themed ones. It’s a nice, low-key hobby, like stamp collecting. He donates the ones he doesn’t need to MC or Levi.

Raphael neither plays, collects, or knows anything about them really. But he does still have an annoying familiarity with them, thanks to Michael wanting him to buy several packs, nay, BOXES of packs. Michael needs to be the number one Lucifer Card collector. Bro misses his bro... ;(

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me nightbringer #nightbringer #om #imagines #obey me imagines

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marvelmusing · 1 year

Note

I don’t do this a lot, so hopefully I’m doing it right. So, my birthday was yesterday and it just kinda sucked. Was wondering if I could put in a request for Billy? Like maybe something where either everyone forgot her birthday or possibly where Billy knows she doesn’t have a great history with her birthday and he tries to do something really nice for her. You don’t have to write anything if you don’t want. I literally love your work though. It’s near constantly that I’m on your page. 💗

Of course, sorry this took a few days (and that it’s quite short) but I hope it lifts your spirits a little. Sending lots of love your way ❤️

Birthday Treat

Billy is incredibly observant. Every single thing he learns or notices about you he files away for a later use. Whatever you want for your birthday, Billy is a hundred percent committed to making sure you get it.

He reminds all of his employees that your birthday is approaching, so that when he comes home on your birthday, his bag is full of cards for you from them all.

When you arrive home, you find Billy standing at the kitchen sink with his sleeves rolled up, snipping the stems of a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he’s assembling in a vase for you.

He grins at the surprised look on your face.

“Hey you. Happy birthday.”

Billy is always attentive, but you hadn’t expected this and you wrap an appreciative arm around his waist as you cup the head of one of the flowers in your hand.

“Thank you,” you say quietly as you admire the flowers before sneaking a glance over at Billy.

Hands wet from cleaning the stems, he nudges his hip against yours affectionately as a response, before he presses a kiss to your cheek and nods towards the plentiful stack of envelopes on the kitchen counter.

“You’ve got some mail.”

As he continues to ensure your bouquet is arranged to perfection, you open up the cards and place them on the countertop so that Billy can see them and ask you who they’re from.

Whenever there’s some names you don't recognise, Billy jumps in with an answer of who they are which brings a smile to your face.

Once he’s finished with the flowers, he carries the vase himself, placing it in whatever spot you point out and he adjusts the angle this way and that to make sure that it looks perfect.

The ingredients for your favourite meal are already waiting in the fridge for Billy to retrieve them and begin making dinner for the two of you. If you enjoy cooking then Billy might let you help him, but he very much wants to do it for you.

The two of you will talk and your days, things you have planned for the week, new TV shows or films you want to watch together. All the while, Billy is making dinner and you set up the table.

Billy is incredibly aspirational when it comes to your birthday cake, and had arrived home early to begin baking. It certainly isn’t his forte but he tries his hardest to mimic whatever design he had seen on the internet that he knew you would love.

He does his best, and is quite pleased with his work, although he is a little worried you won’t like it. So, as a back up, he also brings out a tray of store bought cupcakes, a birthday candle slotted on each of them.

Billy serenades you with his own version of ‘happy birthday,’ with added vocal flourishes because he’s a show off that likes to remind you he has a good singing voice. He grins at the sight of you rolling your eyes, your face visible even after he had turned off the lights due to the extensive number of candles spread over cupcakes and cake.

When you blow out the candles, he jokes about leaving the lights off so that you won’t be able to see the cake. The smile on your face widens when he turns the light back on and you see your cake. It isn’t a perfect replica of what Billy had wanted but to you it’s perfect.

The cake crumbles into a bit of a heap as Billy cuts two slices but with your help you manage to scoop it onto your plates. He seems surprised at how good it tastes, and the glimmer of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Once you’ve finished your cake, Billy tells you that he’s taking you for a drive and that you’re getting ice cream for the trip.

So, that is how you spend the rest of your evening, with Billy driving you around the city, car heater chasing away the chill of the night as the stars come out of hiding and the radio hums away with a familiar tune.

The ice cream might numb your tongue but it gives you the wonderful sweetness of a birthday treat as you watch Billy’s hands on the wheel while he drives, humming along to the radio.

#lots of love #lovely people #answered asks #thanks for the ask!#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo drabble #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine

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trulylino · 2 years

Text

=> Shopping With Them - BTS

Pairing: bts x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive in Jimin's ig, headcannons with story

Summary: what going out for a day of shopping would be like with the tannies

Warnings: slight suggestive in Jimin's section, kissing

A/N: thank you so much for 500 followers I can't believe it thank yousnshajwj

Masterlist

Jin

If you're going shopping it's for him. HE needs a new shirt or HE needs a new pair of shoes. I mean sure you may be trying on some stuff as well but he is the main focus of the day. You don't mind because he's so hilarious with his comments as you walk round the shops that you're laughing every five minutes (and groaning at his dad jokes just as often). He likes it when you suggest things he should try on and feed his ego by telling him that he would look good in it. He agrees, naturally, because he looks good in everything, however it feels extra special coming from you as you're the only person other than himself who he values the opinion of.

Yoongi

He's definitely not as excited about this day out as you are. He'd much rather be doing something else than trail around the shops on a Friday afternoon. Still, he doesn't want to rain on your parade and tries his best to be positive about the whole thing. He brightens up, however, when you spot a corner of the shop which sports hats and necklaces with a cat theme and he can't help but be intrigued. Next thing he knows he's got a beanie with cat ears on it on his head and you're wearing a hoodie with painted paws on the sleeve. He decides that maybe shopping isn't so bad after all. Other than his initial disinterest he's a surprisingly good shopping partner.

Hobi

Your ultimate hype man. As expected. Whatever you try on he's got a new way to compliment you. You sometimes wonder how he comes up with so many original things to say about a few t-shirts but you accept the praise gratefully. It's not everyday that your favourite person in the world sits and tells you how amazing you look for several hours straight (actually, it's most days). You manage to convince him to try on some items too and your jaw almost drops when you see him in the black leather with his hair pushed back like you told him to do. You were about ready to combust on the spot when he bursts into a smile asking if you like it. You liked it for sure.

Namjoon

He is strangely knowledgeable about most types of clothes. You assume he's read it in a book but when you're walking around and he starts talking about seam length and hems and material you can only look at him in confusion. He explains that before you came out he did a bit of research so you could get clothes which fit you well and you felt comfortable in and in that moment your heart swells a bit because he's put in so much effort just for you. He shrugs it off like it's no big deal but inside he's smiling so much because he just wants to make sure that you know how much he loves you and this is his way of showing it.

Jimin

Going out shopping with him involves a lot of time in the fitting rooms. Not exactly trying on clothes either. He gives up on pretending that he cares about whether you look nicer in the blue jeans or the navy and begins kissing you against the mirror. He thinks you look prettiest like that anyway. You nearly get kicked out by the staff when they find you but somehow Jimin manages to sweet talk his way out of it and the two of you are leaving, bags over your arms and a bill on your credit cards. When you get home you have a fashion show and you do a repeat of the changing rooms half way through because how is Jimin meant to control himself when you're wearing all these pretty new clothes?

Taehyung

Forever the fashionista, be prepared to be critiqued to perfection on every single thing you try on. You can stand there in an item of clothing for fifteen minutes whilst he discusses ways which you could style the piece you're wearing until he ultimately decides that it's not worth it and tells you to try the next item. Money isn't exactly a problem but he doesn't see the point in wasting it on something which you aren't 100% on. Sometimes you'll purposefully choose to try on something so incredibly ugly just to see his face as he tries to figure out what on earth is going on and how he can save it. In the end he gives up and you laugh and he decides that the only way to make the horrible clothes work is by giving you a kiss. For science.

Jungkook

He's really big on couples outfits. If you're getting new clothes then he needs an equivalent item or he'll be pouty the whole day until you suggest getting icecream. It's strange because you know he'd cringe if he saw anyone else do a couple costume more intricate than just matching rings but he's really into it. Even as you're walking down the street you're both decked out in the same colour shirt with matching trousers, your accessories perfectly complimenting each other. You always take loads of pictures too, those aesthetic ones which you would always see on Instagram. You wouldn't post them of course but when you got home you would gush over them and agree that you were both cooler than everyone else.

Taglist: @dreamescapeswriting @sparkyprotectionsquad @bang-me-chan

Credit: Header by @dolzyeri

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mymoonagedaydream · 1 year

Text

Part 3

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiments throughout, abusive parents

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love and just a reminder my requests are always open so feel free to drop me one, I do enjoy writing the occasional oneshot to break up a long series like this.

Hello I’m a fucking idiot and I’m editing this days after posting because I didn’t realise I had asks turned off, they are now actually turned on. Promise.

Part 1 / Part 2

---

Your father could, as it turned out, force you to scrub all the floors on your hands and knees with a nail brush; every time you thought your parents had played their most unhinged punishment card, they managed to pull something even worse from their tightly buttoned-up sleeves. You scoured the old linoleum for hours while they watched you obsessively. You'd never regretted underestimating the misery-causing potential of this hell-house more, your parents had swiftly gone from strict but mostly harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. The pain in your knees would've bothered you but it was nothing compared to the agonising cramp in your forearms or the stiffness in your back, all of which were gradually edging you closer to a final, definitive snap.

The snap came after four hours without a break or a sip of water. Lucky for you, your parents were far too out of touch to consider confiscating your cell; neither of them believed it was necessary to have a phone other than the landline, so they tended to just forget that you had yours on you at all times. All you had to do was wait for the right moment. As soon as your father had retired to the front room to get his daily fix of Christian TV and your mother had scuttled off briefly to check on dinner, you whipped out your secret weapon and hammered out a message.

You were right, I need to get out.

You stared intently at the screen, eyes periodically flicking up to the doorway, anticipating your mother walking through at any second- you hadn't been this nervous since you smuggled a copy of Twilight into the house to read under the covers after bedtime. After what felt like hours, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

Never in your life had you leapt from being so deeply miserable to being so ecstatic in such a short time, you felt like your motor suddenly kicked in. Ignoring the searing pain in all your limbs, you jumped up from the floor, sprinting across the hallway and up the stairs for what you hoped was the very last time. Your rickety bedroom door almost flew off its hinges as you shoulder-barged your way through and started grabbing handfuls of clothes to stuff into your rucksack. The daunting sound of your parents scurrying around downstairs prompted you to move even faster, yanking your phone charger out of the wall and cramming in your childhood piggy bank before zipping up- you'd need every single penny you could scrape together after this.

Bursting into the hallway, you saw your furious father standing guard at the top of the stairs, your mother positioned at the bottom with her spindly arms crossed. The sight of your overstuffed bag prompted the rusty old cogs in his brain to begin whirring as he pieced together what was happening. You braced yourself for a screaming match but, just as your jaw unclenched and fell open, the faint rumbling of a motorbike engine sounded in the distance. You smiled, finally realising that he wasn't even worth the argument; this was happening, and it was happening now.

Your father put up less resistance than expected as you pushed past him and raced down the stairs. You felt your mother's venomous gaze burning into the side of your face but you didn't grant her the dignity of eye contact, as far as you were concerned she hadn't earned a final goodbye. The front door swung open, a wall of fresh air hitting you and allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day- since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals. You glanced up the road expectantly and almost burst into tears when you saw Bucky skid round the corner. Waves of relief echoed through every muscle in your body, your shoes thumping against the stone as you scrambled to meet him, the sound of your parents calling your name fading into the distance more and more with every step.

He pulled up and you leapt on to the back of his bike, wrapping your arms tight around his waist. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. The machine roared back into life and, without a second's hesitation, sped away from the house. You didn't turn to look back at your parents. The last thing they saw as you disappeared down the road was a spattering of grey smoke, your shirt flailing around in the wind and Bucky, flipping them the bird.

—

The bike shuddered to a stop outside an old, dilapidated apartment building. You weren't familiar with this part of town, but you remembered some of the parents at your old church play-date sessions whispering about a family who lived in this area, giving pitying smiles when they were looking over and judgemental glares when they weren't. You tried to turn your head to get a better look at your surroundings, only then realising you were basically frozen in place. The chill from the wind whipping past must've crept deep into your bones.

Bucky released your grip around him like he was unfastening a seat-belt, his hands flinching slightly as they made contact with your ice-cold skin. He dismounted and immediately spun round, eyes beginning to scan over your face, one hand quickly moving to support your chin and tilt your head upwards slightly.

‘Y'alright? They didn’t hurt you did they?’

'Not unless you count some serious cramp.' You quickly realised that your feeble attempt at humour did nothing to relieve the concerned look on his face, so you took a different approach. 'Don't worry, I'm all good.'

'You sure? Cause I've heard how crazy these god assholes can get, when you messaged I thought they might be smacking you with bibles or branding you with a metal cross or-'

'I'm okay, Buck. Really.'

He seemed to relax a little at that, his hand pulling away from your chin. 'I'm glad you messaged.'

'I'm glad you came, I don't know what I would've done on my own. Thank you.'

The words almost got caught in your throat as you said them. You could tell Bucky was trying to stay humble but he couldn't help the corner of his mouth curling slightly upwards, he knew what showing up like that had meant to you. His expression dropped, however, as soon as both of his hands came to rest on your arms.

‘Man, you’re freezing. C’mon I'm taking you inside.’

You untangled yourself from the bike, allowing him to wrap his leather jacket around your shoulders and guide you towards the door. Browning weeds were sprouting between the paving stones beneath your feet and the edge of the path was littered with cigarette butts on both sides. As Bucky pulled his keys from his pocket and approached the door, you felt your phone start to vibrate in your pocket, the sensation filling you with dread. You pulled it out, it was your dad.

'Want me to talk to them?' His voice was playful, but you couldn't help noticing some faintly sinister undertones bleeding through.

'Oh I'm sure they'd love that,' you followed him over the threshold and up the creaky stairs, 'but it'd just be a waste of your time. I've literally never heard either of them admit they're wrong about anything.'

'Sounds about right.'

The two of you stopped in front of a grubby-looking door that Bucky swiftly unlocked. It swung open a few inches before getting jammed, at which point he instinctively kicked the bottom corner of it, leaving a fresh boot print on top of the four or five that were already stamped there. You wandered into a sparsely decorated and messy apartment, smiling to yourself as Bucky started subtly kicking laundry underneath various pieces of furniture and mumbling about how he definitely would've tidied if he knew you were coming; in all honesty you’d have taken anything over shag carpets and crucifixes on every wall, you were just happy to be somewhere safe and peaceful.

He cleared the couch of underwear and pizza boxes and encouraged you to sit while he disappeared into the kitchen to fix you something to eat. The couch was low, the cushions sinking under your weight as you placed yourself in the spot with the least visible stains. A few cars juddered past below the window, the occasional creak of footsteps came from above and you could hear Bucky quietly tinkering in the kitchen but, other than that, all around you was quiet. Suddenly you were alone, in an entirely unfamiliar setting, stewing in silence as the last of your adrenaline wore off. The weight of the whole day seemed to hit you at once. To make matters worse, as if sent to underpin your growing anxiety, your phone started buzzing again. It was more sporadic, suggesting a flurry of texts rather than a phone call. Against your better judgement you reached it out to check.

Answer the phone now.

You’ve chosen a criminal over your own family.

If you don’t come back now that’s it, no more support.

This is your last chance.

While you stared at the screen, the edges of your vision began to blur slightly. Your heart started pounding and you found you couldn't properly catch your breath. A sudden, sharp pain shot through your chest, making you feel dizzy as you began trying to frantically pull air into your tightening lungs. You kept telling yourself that Bucky was only a few steps away, that if you could just shout him he'd come back and everything would feel okay again, but your voice had gotten lost somewhere. You weren't sure how long you sat there with your phone clamped between your whitening knuckles. More and more messages came through, only interrupted by the occasional phone call that you just allowed to ring out. You must've gotten more than twenty notifications before you heard your host padding back from the kitchen.

'Shit, what happened?' He planted himself down beside you, setting the plate of food he'd made down on the floor due to the absence of any kind of table. 'Did they call?'

'No- uh, y-yeah, i just-'

Your voice was shaking too much to form a full sentence. Bucky's arm extended towards your phone, his hand enclosing it and gently tugging it out of your grip before he subtly turned it off and placed it on the couch behind him. You weren't able to say it, but you were incredibly grateful that he'd made that decision for you, because the relief of finally being entirely disconnected from your parents was cathartic. He cradled your face in his palm and his thumb began brushing away tears you hadn't even realised you'd shed. His calming presence eventually began to level you out and he drew you closer, the two of you melting into the lumpy sofa cushions, your panic becoming offset by the overwhelming safety you felt being wrapped in his arms. Exhaustion from the events of the day washed over you, Bucky tried to coax you into eating something but you didn't have the energy to be hungry.

It was only a few minutes until you started dozing off. You were so grateful that your abiding memory of the most draining day of your life was soft fingers running through your hair, the gentle rise and fall of a warm chest and the faint smell of cologne and cigarettes.

---

Part 4

---

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ellewritesandrants · 2 years

Text

This more mature than I usually write but I just thought of something for the hidden omega Billy AU I have and I had to share it. Male omegas have both parts in my AU so…

So imagine that Steve is done courting Billy and they’re about to mate so they’re making out and stuff and suddenly, when Steve starts trying to remove Billy’s pants, Billy goes:

“Steve, can we stop for a bit?”

Steve immediately got off of Billy, letting him sit up.

“What is it, baby?”

Billy avoided Steve’s eyes, wringing his hands out of anxiety.

“I-Um, shit I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Hey.”

Steve pulls him in for a quick kiss before booping his nose.

“Baby, there’s nothing you could tell me that would make me stop loving you. What is it?”

“Y-You know all of those rumors about me sleeping around with all of those girls?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, they’re not exactly true?”

Steve took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm even if his head was going through different scenarios a mile a minute.

“What are you trying to say, baby?”

“I-I haven’t done anything with anyone. I mean, I’ve done things for others but I’ve never allowed them to reciprocate.”

Of all of things Steve was expecting to find out tonight, learning that Billy was essentially a virgin was not one of them. Steve’s breath hitches and he has to try and will away his libido.

“How did you even-“

“I know my way around a girl’s parts because I had to figure out my own pleasure, you know? So all I would do is give them a few orgasms and overstimulate them to the point of fainting with my fingers or my mouth and then, I’d take care of them and comment on them not lasting long enough to get my dick the next time that I see them. It usually makes them so mad that they pretend they had me fuck them and the rest of the girls that follow only make it more and more outlandish because they don’t want to be embarassed to be the only girl Who didn’t last long enough for me to fuck properly.”

Steve doesn’t know how to process this.

“So you’re telling me that every single girl out there claiming to have been fucked by you is lying?”

“Steve, I never even removed my clothes because then, they’d find out.”

Steve’s brain bluescreens.

“Are you telling me that I’m the first person to have seen you naked?”

“Outside of family and medical professionals, pretty much, yeah.”

“So you’re telling me that I’m the only one who gets to have you, the only person who’ll ever get to fuck you? Are you saying that I get to give you your first orgasm from another person, that only person who’ll get to see you high on pleasure, the only who’ll ever get to touch you? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Steve’s voice kept getting lower as he moved closer and closer to Billy until their noses were practically touching. Billy’s eyes were widened in shock and darkened with lust while Steve’s were a dark pool of want and possessiveness. Billy’s heart started to pound and he swallowed audibly, calling Steve’s attention to his untouched neck.

“Yes?”

Steve growled.

“Fuck, baby, when I finally get to mate you, I’ll make sure that you’ll never have to look at anyone else for your pleasure. I’m going to give you the best night of your life.”

Billy can feel how hard Steve is right now and it caused his breath to hitch. It was unfair how all Steve had to do was talk and all of sudden, Billy was wetter than he’d ever been before. Billy had one more card up his sleeve though. He flutters his lashes, all coy.

“What are you waiting for, alpha?”

Steve pounced.

“You’re playing with fire, omega.” Steve mumbles, in between kisses.

Billy chuckles and pulls away for a breath, looking up at Steve, trying to convey all that he couldn’t put into words.

“Maybe I want to get burned.”

Billy dared to get close to his alpha’s ear, to whisper the words he’d never thought he’d say together.

“I want you to wreck me, alpha. I want you to ruin me for anyone else.”

Steve growled again, louder this time and Billy could feel himself dripping at the sound.

“Are you sure, omega? This is your last chance to say no. I won’t mind waiting because I’m ready when you are.”

Billy loved that about his alpha, how sweet and caring he was but Billy wanted his strong and possessive alpha back. He moaned and purposely leaned back to expose his neck and mating gland.

“I’m yours, alpha. Make me yours.”

“As you wish, my omega.”

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #omega billy hargrove #a/b/o fic #harringrove a/b/o #alpha steve harrington #lemon #ellewritesandrants #possessive steve harrington #virgin billy hargrove #harringrove fic #tw a/b/o

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morningdawnknight · 10 months

Text

My Duel Academy Life is Wrong as I Expected Chapter 2 - We Opened the Map of Youth and, on a Ship without a Compass, Headed to Uncharted Waters

Fandom: My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU, Yu-Gi-Oh!

Series Summary: Having zero passion for Dueling or even Duel Monsters, Hachiman Hikigaya is the last person you would expect to even attempt to enter the most elite high school for upcoming Pro-Duelists and Card Designers in Japan and yet here he is. Wielding an Ojama Deck, this loser loner is forced to but into the lives of other students after his dorm Resident Advisor, forces him to join the Service Club along with Yukino Yukinoshita, the Ice Queen of Obelisk Blue. Together, their clashing personalities and viewpoints must compromise as they attempt to solve problems around Duel Academy Island.

Chapter Summary: Having passed the Duel Academy Admission Test, Hachiman Hikigaya heads to Duel Academy Island where he watches the school year’s inaugural Duel between Yukino Yukinoshita, the freshmen representative, and Meguri Shiromeguri, the student council president, and the subsequent aftermath of such a Duel.

AO3 Link

Excerpt:

The Duel Academy entrance ceremony was the same as any other senior high school entrance ceremony: a long, boring speech by the superintendent and a long, boring speech by the person who got the highest score in the admission test.

“Thank you,” Yukino Yukinoshita, the supposed smartest and most talented student of our batch, concluded her speech. With icy blue eyes, stormy black hair, and skin like freshly fallen snow, there wasn’t a single girl more objectively beautiful than her even if she was lacking something. Well, she was the most objectively beautiful girl in Duel Academy. I was certain my own super cute little sister cleared her by light years.

Just as people were beginning to clap, she interrupted them with an icy glare and a cold voice, “Now the inaugural Duel of the school year between me, the freshman student representative, and the student council president, Meguri Shiromeguri.”

Of course. This was Duel Academy.

She went off to one side, putting on her royal blue Obelisk Duel Disk and Duel Gazer, as a girl with shoulder-length brown hair in braids, with similar Duel gear, entered the stage.

Yukinoshita bowed her head, saying something.

The President said something back, smiling.

Yukinoshita twitched.

They both readied their Duel Disks as everyone put their Duel Gazers on.

“Advanced Duel!” they both shouted, as my Duel Gazer connected to their Duel and mics.

“The freshman always begins, Yukino!” the President said.

“Thank you, President Shiromeguri,” Yukinoshita said. “Draw Phase. Standby Phase. Main Phase 1. I’ll start by Normal Summoning Sky Striker Ace – Raye.”

A young blonde girl in a white school uniform appeared on her field.

“A Sky Striker Deck, huh?” the President said aloud. “That’s a Midrange Spell Deck.” She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and tapped her feet. “Something, something… a low floor but a high ceiling, huh?”

It was expected for our batch’s number one. The Sky Striker archetype is a Deck that truly discriminates. Its consistency and ability to have every out is nearly unmatched but virtually useless in unskilled hands.

Opening her eyes she exclaimed, “You really are Haruno’s little sister!”

I stared at the video feed of Yukinoshita, examining her. The way her eye twitched and her lips lightly pursed. The way she placed her hand on her chest as she lightly breathed.

“I’ll use Sky Striker Ace – Raye,” she continued, “to Link Summon Sky Striker Ace – Shizuku.”

A Link Circuit appeared over her Left Extra Monster Zone. Raye, instead of turning into a red arrow and going to the top right Link Arrow, jumped through the Circuit. She was suddenly wearing a white bodysuit as the Shizuku blue mech armour started attaching itself onto her body.

“I set four cards face-down.”

Her cards had Neko Mane King sleeves, a clear intimidation tactic.

“End Phase,” Yukinoshita declared. “I use the Monster Effect of Sky Striker Ace – Shizuku to add Sky Striker Mobilize – Engage! to my hand.”

And now the combo was complete. Her set Spells would cripple the President and, next turn, Engage would get the exact card she’d need. Depending on what the President played, Yukinoshita basically already won the Duel.

#yahari ore no seishun rabu come wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun love comedy #yahari ore no seishun love come wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun rabukome wa machigatteiru #oregairu #yugioh #yu-gi-oh #ygo #duel academy #duel academy au #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfic #ao3

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deadmicrophoneblr · 7 months

Text

"Jay Oswin"

Look up, a bit forward–

What else could he say? Directing her head, (acting like he was) adjusting her dress–

It was important for them to dress well–

He believed she looked nice no matter what,

But he would still try to help her meet her expectations.

He liked it when she asked for his help anyway.

I am! I’m looking forward–

She giggled through her words, holding her hair up so he could click together the necklace she had to wear–

Gold, a small chain–

And a little locket between her collarbones,

with a photo of an old friend, in an old bakery.

She could get it herself, but she liked the feeling when he brushed the back of her neck trying to get it right.

I got it. Could you get my collar?

He said, turning, she had to push up his hair to fold it–

And readjust his tie–

Though he didn’t know his hair was that long in the back,

Or that his tie was poorly done.

He never could fold the collar in this shirt on his own(and he liked that feeling on his neck too).

Did you get your watch?

She nudged him to grab it, making sure he didn’t forget–

The one thing he always did–

That timepiece that rolled up his sleeves,

Revealing a little ink of an old friend and trees over old scars.

He found it just next to the calendar that had x’s leading up to May 28.

I miss him–

He said–

Looking at the floor–

His eyelids drooped,

The way they used to when he was fighting himself.

He was so predictable.

I miss him too.

She said–

Kissing him on the cheek–

Pulling him out of that spiral,

That he seemed so determined to fall right back into.

The look in his eyes after she cheered him up was one of her favorite things.

I love you–

He said–

And appreciate you–

He continued–

And I’m lucky you ever gave me a second chance.

I love you too–

She replied–

And I love how you try–

She continued–

But it was more like a third chance. You better be grateful.

Haha–

His laugh–

His hand over his smile–

Always insecure about those teeth,

Despite how perfect they were.

Even if some were just a bit too sharp(not the worst thing to her).

Got you–

She said–

Grinning brightly–

Showing off her smile

That she knew was contagious.

Especially to him.

Come on–

He said–

Ushering her out of the door–

In their car that they shared,

That was really only hers.

Driving wasn’t his thing anymore.

I spy with my little eye–

She kept on–

With no radio–

Only her voice and the sound of the wheels,

Their destination was so near.

He could barely handle seeing the entrance approach, every time.

Holder Cemetery–

It read–

Just atop a metal arch–

That was poorly painted, and needed a few new coats,

Only after all that rust was taken care of.

The state of the place was always the first thing he noticed.

As clean as ever–

She said–

Approaching a grave–

Setting down a pair of blue orchids,

And a little card she wrote on her own.

Of course it was about to rain on them.

Hey man–

He spoke–

Right at the marble–

As if the person were alive,

to watch him place his blue orchids next to hers.

Of course there was thunder, too.

Jay Oswin–

The grave read–

Detailing on and on–

About how he was loved,

Loved by all and hated by none.

He was so kind. Too kind.

Shit–

He said–

Wiping his eyes–

Crying tears like he does every single time,

Letting them out like a floodgate.

He was still that little kid, trapped in that car wreck,

Where the rain was heavy–

And the tires had skid–

And the thunder was almost louder than his screams–

And Jay had told him,

Look in my eyes. It’s not your fault–

When he was the one who crashed.

It’s alright–

She said–

Putting her arms around him–

And crying some tears of her own,

Wiping them quicker than he could see.

She was still that stress, that inhumanly tightened chest,

Before the police–

Before the ambulance–

She came to the wreck the moment he texted her–

And he screamed,

DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TOUCH ME–

When he was the one who called.

That day–

When Jay died–

Blood was washed by the rain,

From Jay’s wounds–

To the boy that held him–

To the asphalt.

The boy still wiped at his skin–

Like the blood never washed off.

That day–

When Jay died–

The boy she loved was confused,

And heartbroken–

And afraid–

And guilty he had lived.

She still hesitated to touch him–

Like he’d scream at her again.

When the reunion was over–

And she left one, two–

And he left three, four–

Blue orchids at Jay's grave–

her card, his conversation, and their annual tears–

They left,

And went home,

Preparing to come back next year.

#original writing #poetry #fiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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raccoonskoodilypoopdungeon · 1 year

Text

My Duel Academy Life is Wrong as I Expected Chapter 2 - We Opened the Map of Youth and, on a Ship without a Compass, Headed to Uncharted Waters

Fandom: My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU, Yu-Gi-Oh!

Chapter Summary: Having passed the Duel Academy Admission Test, Hachiman Hikigaya heads to Duel Academy Island where he watches the school year's inaugural Duel between Yukino Yukinoshita, the freshmen representative, and Meguri Shiromeguri, the student council president, and the subsequent aftermath of such a Duel.

AO3 Link

Excerpt:

“Thank you,” Yukino Yukinoshita, the supposed smartest and most talented student of our batch, concluded her speech. With icy blue eyes, stormy black hair, and skin like freshly fallen snow, there wasn't a single girl more objectively beautiful than her even if she was lacking something. Well, she was the most objectively beautiful girl in Duel Academy. I was certain my own super cute little sister cleared her by light years.

Of course. This was Duel Academy.

She went off to one side, putting on her royal blue Obelisk Duel Disk and Duel Gazer, as a girl with shoulder-length brown hair in braids, with similar Duel gear, entered the stage.

Yukinoshita bowed her head, saying something.

The President said something back, smiling.

Yukinoshita twitched.

They both readied their Duel Disks as everyone put their Duel Gazers on.

“Advanced Duel!” they both shouted, as my Duel Gazer connected to their Duel and mics.

“The freshman always begins, Yukino!” the President said.

“Thank you, President Shiromeguri,” Yukinoshita said. “Draw Phase. Standby Phase. Main Phase 1. I’ll start by Normal Summoning Sky Striker Ace – Raye.”

A young blonde girl in a white school uniform appeared on her field.

“A Sky Striker Deck, huh?” the President said aloud. “That's a Midrange Spell Deck.” She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and tapped her feet. “Something, something… a low floor but a high ceiling, huh?”

Opening her eyes she exclaimed, “You really are Haruno’s little sister!”

I stared at the video feed of Yukinoshita, examining her. The way her eye twitched and her lips lightly pursed. The way she placed her hand on her chest as she lightly breathed.

“I’ll use Sky Striker Ace – Raye,” she continued, “to Link Summon Sky Striker Ace – Shizuku.”

“I set four cards face-down.”

Her cards had Neko Mane King sleeves, a clear intimidation tactic.

“End Phase,” Yukinoshita declared. “I use the Monster Effect of Sky Striker Ace – Shizuku to add Sky Striker Mobilize – Engage! to my hand.”

#yahari ore no seishun rabu kome wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun love comedy wa machigatteiru.#yahari ore no seishun rabu come wa machigateiru #yahari ore no seishun love come wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun rabu come wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun rabukome wa machigatteiru #yahari ore no seishun love comedy #my teen romantic comedy snafu #my teen romantic comedy is wrong as expected #my youth romantic comedy is wrong as i expected #my youth romantic comedy snafu #yugioh #ygo #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #crossover

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

dilf (and love) | knj | m

pairing: kim namjoon x oc

genre: fluff, domestic fluff, smut, established relationship, marriage and kids lol

warnings: light dom/sub themes, pregnancy kink, penetrative sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), DILF JOON

words: 6, 702

summary: it's been too long since you and namjoon had time to yourselves

“God take that thing away from me!” You whine as you smother your face with your hands.

Jin pins you with a dry look as he catches a glimpse of ‘that thing’ who is looking up at you with big eyes and a toothless grin.

“That thing is your child …” Jin says blandly.

“That thing is ruining my sex life.” You narrow your eyes at Chanmi as she babbles some incoherent words with her ten-month-old vocabulary. You’d think as the daughter and apple of Kim Namjoon’s eye that she’d be able to read, write and speak sixteen languages at the age of one.

You still allow Chanmi to wrap her chubby fingers around your thinner ones and you can’t help but coo at your daughter. While she may have been the one thing that disrupted any intimate moment between you and Namjoon, you would fight anyone that would ever dare to mess with her. Your own husband included.

“Please, spare the details,” Jin mutters under his breath as he watches Chanmi fondly as she attempts to tug at your sleeve in hopes of getting your attention. You squeeze her cheeks before lifting her up in your arms and hold her close to your chest. You whine because she smells so … fresh. Just like a little bread baby that was all yours.

God, you loved her.

“My old sex life brought me this angel.” You grin up at your daughter who just smiles at you, unknowing of the context of your words.

“Can you stop using such vulgar words in front of your child?” Jin scolds you but doesn’t do anything much to take Chanmi out of your grasp.

You roll your eyes.

“She’s like 300 days old. She doesn’t even know how to shit at a decent hour let alone understand what sex is. Penis in vagina. Destroying pussy. A hole in one. Railing—”

Jin slaps his hand over your mouth to get you to stop talking as he glares at you.

“Why did my brother marry a heathen like you.” Jin seethes.

You shrug nonchalantly as you turn your head to see your dumbhead yet smart-ass husband that was attempting to glue back the shards of glass from the wine glass he broke earlier in hopes of you not realising.

“He needed to put his 148 IQ to good use and I’m the best investment his finance major ever got him.”

“The only good thing that came out of your marriage is this cutie.” Jin coos at his niece and you have half the mind to withdraw his Chanmi visiting card because whenever he was over all he did was berate you and your … unique ways of parenting.

But Jin would still say he cared for you as far as a brother-in-law would but with the added benefit of the fact that he was your best friend before he became your brother-in-law. You were an interesting character, to say the least, and the only reason you managed to befriend Jin was due to the fact that you didn’t know what boundaries meant and had invaded his personal space on the first day of lectures when you leaned over him to throw something at a know-it-all. Jin had been annoyed, but then an unlikely friendship bloomed out of the mutual distaste for ‘Howard from Accounting’.

He introduced you to Namjoon just because he thought that it was hilarious that you and his brother were polar opposites. Jin didn’t even expect the two of you to get along with each other let alone fall in love, but life had a funny way of saying ‘fuck you and your expectations’ to Jin when he least expected it.

The only thing that he regrets is the fact that now he had to listen to both you and his brother whine about your sex life, or lack thereof after the two of you became parents. Being a mother was hard because there was no manual to tell you what was right or wrong when it came to your baby but the experience itself. When you first fed Chanmi softened shrimp in her meals and caused an allergic reaction; you cried for hours straight because you felt like you should’ve just known.

Namjoon was a good partner and an even better father because he was understanding. The first few months postpartum he respected the fact that you weren’t ready to show your body to him because of the way it changed after giving birth to Chanmi, and he never told you that you were in your head for feeling that way. He validated all your feelings through all the rough edges that you gave him when you were going through your own things.

You finally felt comfortable to get naked around Namjoon at the five-month mark where your sex drive returned to that of when you were in your early twenties and just begun knowing how to truly enjoy sexual intimacies with a partner, but a five-month-old baby didn’t allow for much intimacy with your hot ass husband either.

It sucked because Namjoon had always been broad and very dad-like, and after he officially became a father to Chanmi you just felt like salivating over him every waking second you got because … God … Namjoon was a gift from the God’s themselves. Whenever you saw the way he handled Chanmi with absolute gentleness and care you felt like dropping to your knees and sucking the soul out of him. It didn’t help that he wore his glasses every night when he tucked her into bed and read her Shakespeare because it would ‘help with development’. You loved your husband but he was a little excessive.

“Oh God stop drooling over my brother!” Jin grimaces when he sees the bedroom eyes you were shooting Namjoon from where the two of you were with Chanmi.

You sigh dreamily and lean against your palm as you check out Namjoon’s ass.

“I can’t help that your brother and my husband has an ass like that.” You click your tongue.

Chanmi giggles again and it’s like a bell chiming at your favourite cafe when you cuddle her closer, feeling comfort in her scent. She smelt just like home and bubbles.

“How about I give you a sibling, huh?” You whisper to Chanmi who just opens her mouth to babble. Jin on the other hand facepalms himself and sighs.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m horny.” You shrug.

“Correction: you’re insufferable on a daily basis but absolutely horrifying to deal with when you’re horny.” He sneers.

“I just need to bed him and I’ll be fine.” You drawl, as your husband who spent the better half of your conversation fixing the wine glass grins to himself with his dimples when he finally placed the last piece of glass back into place. He was so meticulous and cute for the wrong reasons.

“Jesus, stop …” Jin groans.

“Jesus would definitely tell me to go get that dick because I deserve it.” You pat yourself on the back and wince slightly when you smell the telltale signs of Chanmi’s poop permeating the air.

“Say … would Yoongi mind having Chanmi over your place for the weekend?” Jin recognizes the devious expression you have on your face and knows that there’s no way out of it.

“I don’t have a choice do I?” Jin sighs.

You shake your head.

“Nope. Cause’ I texted Yoongi yesterday and said he totally wants to see his niece. The baby bag is all ready to go and it’s in the nursery.” You cock your thumb to the room down the hallway and Jin thinks to himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t have introduced you to his brother at all seven years back.

“It’s weird without her …” Namjoon frowns as the two of you stand in the nursery as if you were mourning the loss of your child. It felt a lot like it, though.

The two of you never spent more than a few hours away from Chanmi ever since she was born and it felt weird to not smell her vomit from the kitchen or hear her giggles as you cooked dinner. You missed Namjoon and the spark you had in the first years of your relationship but you also felt a little empty without Chanmi’s presence with you.

“I miss her.” You whine into Namjoon’s chest and he clutches you tightly as if to say that he mirrored your sentiment.

“Should we call them?” You look up at him with wide eyes and he smoothes the frown lines on your forehead and chuckles, offering a gentle kiss to your temples.

“We called fifteen minutes ago, remember?” He chides you gently.

You huff, “I just … it’s so quiet. Where are my baby babbles?” You pout.

Namjoon sighs and rubs his thumb comfortingly on your arm when you look around at the purple nursery with reminders of your daughter that wasn’t currently with you.

“Let’s enjoy what we have, okay love?” Namjoon offers, “I miss Chanmi too but I miss this too.”

You smile at him the way he first fell in love with you years ago and leans down to place a peck onto your lips.

“I miss having you all to myself.” He whispers against your lips and you shiver at the way his broadness is clouding all your senses.

“You always have me Joon.” You tell him in a tone as soft as his.

His chest rumbles when he laughs and you feel so warm in the comfort of your husband's arms and you felt it too. Besides the physical aspect of having sex with him, you missed holding him like this without a care in the world. Most of your cuddle sessions were left to the nights you slept next to each other in bed because the two of you were either exhausted with work or trying to care for Chanmi. It’s been a long time since you could just feel Namjoon’s presence with you.

“Besides … we can finally, you know …” He mumbles shyly into your hair and the devil horns that you hide most of the time reappear.

“What, Joon?” You smirk up at him, hands trailing slowly down his chest.

Your husband was so big that every room he walked into he basically commanded the attention of every single person that would come across him. That’s what happens when you’re six foot and broad like him. But you loved the fact that you were the only one that got to see the much softer side to him that he didn’t just show anyone. The fact that he was the CEO of his own company made his persona ever more intimidating than he actually was but you knew he was a huge softie on the inside.

The two of you were very different in many senses. From your personalities to the way you approached conflict. Namjoon was very diplomatic but you were anything but. He was truly the most empathetic and understanding person you’ve met in your entire life and you’ve seen a total of ten therapists in your teenage years. Namjoon was the balance that levelled your temper and uninhibited tendencies to always be the loudest person in every room. With every time you snarked at someone who pushed your buttons came Namjoon that placed a gentle hand on your back with a soft whisper of comfort.

In fact, most people thought the two of you would have never lasted. You heard those mean girls in college that made petty bets on the fact that you’d probably end up leaving him because you were too much of a bitch to deal with someone as kind as Namjoon. You remembered most of your fights being about your insecurities and how you always thought that Namjoon deserved better and with him telling you that you were the one for him.

Looking back, you laugh because the two of you were theoretically horrible for each other but exactly what the other needed. Namjoon needed someone free-spirited enough to manage his meticulous tendencies and you needed someone willing to see you for more than your erratic behaviour.

“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?” Namjoon hums when he realises you’re not paying attention to him anymore. He clasps your hands together to bring back your attention to him as you look up at him with eyes so full of love.

“Just reminiscing on the old days.” You tell him and he snorts.

“You say that as if we’re ancient.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. I heard your joints cracking when you bent down to pick up the strands of hair on the floor.” You tease.

“And who’s fault is it that I’m constantly bending over to pick up strands of hair because she sheds like a cat?” He retorts playfully.

“We’re both old.” You pout, playing with his fingers and admiring the glimmer of his wedding ring. You can’t believe you bagged a man like Namjoon.

“I still got it, though.” He adds thoughtfully and you raise an eye at his comment.

“Got what?”

“My game.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you burst out laughing because it was so on-brand for Namjoon to make a comment like that but blush when you got a little more touchy-feely with him when he least expected it.

“How about you show me then?” You whisper as you turn around to press yourself against his chest, ensuring that your cleavage was on full show to his line of vision when he looks down at you.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your tits after the pregnancy?” He tells you breathily and you snort.

“So you didn’t like my tits before I gave birth to your child?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches his hands below your thighs to lift you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. The way he could effortlessly carry you and lift you up always made your heart and nether regions flutter because he was so big that he basically towered over you. Especially when he became a dad it was like his hot factor exploded exponentially. He basically became the epitome of a dilf.

“You and your mouth,” He tsks as he carries you out of the nursery and into your bedroom, “I just may need to shut you up.”

You whine into his chest before he tosses you down onto your mattress as he towers over you, looking over your body like you were the finest piece of art he’s ever seen. Namjoon always had ways to make you feel like a million bucks even though you were in an old camisole and your old college varsity sweatpants.

“Why don’t you do it then?” You tease back.

You were different from the women that Namjoon has been with prior to your seven-year-long relationship as most of them were pliant and quiet, and took whatever he gave to them. Don’t get him wrong, he loved playing the dominant character in bed but he also needed a brat to push his buttons and it was exactly what you were. Even if the two of you were so fundamentally different in personalities, the two of you were definitely sexually compatible.

“Flip over.” He demands and you whine before reluctantly turning over.

“I want to see you.” You whine petulantly.

You feel him rather than have him verbally respond to you because he delivers a tight slap to your ass as you gasp at the impact. He rubs his hands soothingly over your butt cheeks and squeezes them as he leans over your body, crowding your back with his body heat.

“Don’t be a brat ___.” He sneers into your ear and the moan is stuck on your throat when you feel him drag his hands all over your body until it reaches under your body to reach for your tits.

“Fuck. I love your tits.” He groans.

Namjoon’s hands immediately trail down your body until they reach the hem of your shorts and you wiggle your ass back at him teasingly. You hear him growl and you always knew that Namjoon was an ass man and your ass made him weak.

“Need I remind you that you’re in no position to tease, sweetheart?” He whispers into your ear and you feel the goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin.

“Fuck. Please—Joon, touch me.” You gasp as you feel him pull down your shorts to be greeted with a cheeky pair of panties that left little to imagine of what hides underneath. Your husband had the talent of getting you obscenely wet without doing much and it’s proven again when you feel the uncomfortable ache between your legs as he flips your body over once again to get a good glimpse of your heaving body, as well as the stain on your panties.

His knuckles trace the inner side of your thigh carefully as he avoids the place you need him the most while you feel more wetness pool at your entrance. You’ve been deprived of his touch for way too long and that caused your sensitive reactions to anything that he did. You missed his fingers so much and having him so close yet so far away from your pussy was destroying your restraint.

“Namjoon p-please!” You cry when he finally cups your mound with his large palm.

He digs the heel of his palm straight into your clit as you arch your back and let out a low moan.

“So wet baby and I’ve barely done anything.” He taunts you with the low baritone of his voice.

“You make me so wet Joonie.” You pant when you feel him grind his palm into your clit some more, providing the satisfying friction that you’ve been craving.

The feeling doesn’t last long because he’s hastily removing your panties from your legs and tosses them somewhere over his shoulder. His face is directly in front of your pussy and you can’t help but feel flustered at the proximity of his breath to your hole. You’ve done this a million times before but the familiarity is slightly lost due to the time between the last and the present.

“Where’s the brat that couldn’t shut her mouth before, hm?” He mumbles and you feel every breath against your pussy. You squirm and feel his large hands wrap around your thighs, locking you into position so you wouldn’t be able to move.

“It’s just been so—ah—long,” You tell him breathily.

“Too long. Missed this pussy.” He says as a parting gift before he dives straight into your clit and begins to lap rounds over the hardened bud. You let out a high pitched moan at the pleasure he was providing you with just his tongue alone, and the way that he knew just where to focus on your clit with tense figure-eights.

“Ah—ah, fuck—Joon!” You groan as your hands wrap around his hair to tug at it. You feel him moan against your pussy, which sends vibrations up to your core and causes more wetness to pool at your centre.

Namjoon is relentless when he digs his hands harder into the meat of your thighs to prevent you from moving too much as he continues to suction on your clit, focusing his attention on it as much as he could. After years of being together, he just knew what you loved and this was it.

You liked it messy. Wet and fast, and Namjoon always gave it to you good. He pulls away momentarily so he could look up at you with a hooded gaze and you let out a high pitched whine when you see the glistening of his chin all the way up to his nose with the signs of your wetness staining him. His fingers run up your thighs teasingly and you shift under his ministrations only for him to smack your right thigh harshly.

“If you move you don’t get to cum.” He threatens you and you immediately still your body with the impossible threat.

You feel his fingers run up and down on your slit as he gathers all your wetness into one place, hovering slightly over your clit. You have to keep your whine to a minimum because Namjoon got real mean when he wanted to. But he was a good lover—so good.

Your hole is throbbing with a need to be filled, and your husband picks up on that immediately as he prods your entrance with the tip of his index finger. You attempt to grind down on him as you make eye contact with the dark eyes that threaten to take away your orgasm.

“I said. Don’t. Move.” He reminds you.

You whimper in silence as he teases your hole a little more before he decides to return home into the warmth of your walls. The moment that barrier was broken, you feel him go straight for the hook as he reaches his index finger all the way up until his knuckles. You hear Namjoon hiss under his breath as he begins prodding your walls until he finds—

“Fuck—there, Joon—ah!” You gasp, head tilting backwards when your husband finds your g-spot.

Namjoon smirks to himself and slides another finger in to hook them upwards into your g-spot, unmoving as he stills himself against the area; causing pure, unaltered pleasured to run through your veins. You’re vibrating and twitching all at once because you can’t control the involuntary response that comes with your husband's demon fingers that are causing every possible pleasurable feeling to run through your system.

You can’t keep the moan to yourself either as Namjoon looks at you with awe, but you miss it because your eyes are too busy being rolled to the back of your head at the way Namjoon skilfully thrusts into your pussy.

“H-Harder, p-please Joon—wanna cum so bad.” You moan and run your fingers through his hair to bring his mouth closer to your mound.

He lowly chuckles and shakes his head at your sex drive. And the next thing he does next nearly makes you cum on the spot.

The way he gathers his spit at the back of his throat was borderline pornographic as you see the way his throat revs up. He drops the glob of spit directly onto your clit and uses the hand that wasn’t in your pussy to spread the lubricant all over your slit. He purposefully grazes your clit but doesn’t apply enough pressure to make your head spin, but just enough for you to whine in want.

“Your pussy is so pretty love.” He coos, leaning into your mound to deliver kitten-licks to your clit, and the warmth of his tongue with the added addition of his fingers feels all too much.

“J-Joon!” You gasp when you feel him thrust his fingers rapidly in and out of your pussy that your body hitched up the surface of the bed. Every thrust was accompanied by the direct assault of his tongue on your clit as he presses down on the hardened bud with the purpose to drive you closer to your orgasm.

You were painfully close, and the precision of his fingers at your g-spot allows you to revel in the way the coil in your body is ready to snap, so close to release. Namjoon leans down so that his head is where you love him the most, between your thighs as he scores the final goal and presses his tongue against your clit.

“Oh my god Joon—fuck—s-so good—I’m gonna cum!” Your back arches off the bed uselessly because of the way that Namjoon uses his other hand to pin you down, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He coos against your clit and the vibrations is what sends you over the edge.

He fucks his fingers into you as you orgasm, kitten licking your clit with just enough pressure for you to whine as you buck your hips up into his mouth involuntarily.

“Fuck. Baby—hurts.” You whine, pushing his head away from your pussy when the overstimulation gets to you.

Namjoon places one last teasing peck on your clit, which causes you to twitch and pinch his neck as he chuckles, dragging his hand up your body to bring you closer to him.

“Still got it, hm?” He whispers against the column of your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Just kiss me you fool.” You pull him in for a kiss, and your tongue immediately finds its place home in Namjoon’s mouth.

It’s probably because it’s been so long since the two of you could feel each other like this, without any rush to get it over with but with the freedom to enjoy each other’s bodies as much as you’d like. Namjoon’s hands were the truth of that as he trails his arms down the sides of your waist and tugs you closer to him by your hips until he reaches for the hem of your camisole to tug it off your body.

He grabs the mounds of flesh in his hands and squeezes them hard enough to cause another gush of wetness to drip down the side of your thighs and onto his sweatpants. Besides the fact that he delivered a mind-blowing orgasm to you, the stained wetness of his sweatpants from his pre-cum and your slick is enough for you to push him down onto the bed.

“I’m gonna suck your cock.” You kiss him on the lips one last time before you’re leaning down to palm him over his sweatpants.

He hisses above you and grabs the back of your neck lovingly that it has you snorting.

“You know if you’re laughing at my dick my feelings are going to be very hurt,” Namjoon says from above you.

“It’s just …” You shake your head and giggle as you clench your fist around the outline of Namjoon’s cock as he lets out a low breath of approval at your action.

“You used to shove my head onto your cock the moment I reached your pants and now you’re so soft.” You tease.

You hear his breath hitch and the grip on your neck tighten at your taunting words. The excitement already pooling in your stomach at the roughness that would ensue from your husband.

“Me? Soft? Is that what you want baby?” His tone is warning and you know he’s serious.

You shake your head as you look up at him with innocent eyes, a stark contrast to the hand that continues to fondle his balls over his sweatpants.

“Don’t be a bitch and take my cock out.” He sneers, and you smile to yourself cheekily—knowing you hit a sore spot.

You happily oblige as you pull Namjoon’s sweats down to be greeted with your husbands cock. The visual itself has your pussy throbbing, and every time you’re faced with it, you always burn with the prospect of his thick cock pounding into your pussy.

“Now suck it like a good girl.” He guides your head towards his dick but you’re proactive enough to fully start licking at his tip, tongue teasing his slit as you hear him let out a low groan.

Your eyes are locked on his figure, as his head is thrown back. You want to grind on the sheets but you know that would delay him fucking you so you decide against it. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate the visual that your husband was giving you from where you were.

Namjoon had always been handsome. But there’s something about seeing him throw his head back in pleasure because of you that has your stomach churning with pride. You’d shamelessly admit that you were more on the possessive side, purely because you knew there were many men and women out there who desired Namjoon in more ways than one; and you didn’t like sharing one bit.

You spit onto his dick as your hands worked the rest of the length that you didn’t engulf in your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks to create a suction. Your tongue begins to tease the underside of his shaft, the way he likes the most and you know he’s enjoying your focus there because the hand that grips your neck is now tightly clutching your hair in a fist.

“Fuck. That’s it, baby.” He groans.

Motivated by the praise, you sink deeper, hands resting on his thick thighs as you push yourself until your nose reaches his pelvis. You’ve taken his cock like a champion on many occasions, and you can only thank him for that like the numerous times he had to guide you down on his cock were probably the only reason why your tiny throat could welcome his thick girth.

The sounds of you chocking on his dick was a lot for Namjoon, mainly because he couldn’t get enough of his wife but also because he’s been waiting out to bust a nut down your throat—actually your pussy—so long that he can’t handle the onslaught of pleasure your mouth brings him.

“Baby—baby,” He tugs you off his cock and the redness around your cheeks with the tears that pool at your waterline is enough to make his heart soar. Even though you were nasty in bed, he loved every single part of your forwardness.

“Your mouth is amazing but I need to cum in your pussy.” He tells you.

You whine at his declaration and allow him to manhandle you until you were face down ass up, ass pressed tightly against his pelvis as you grind your wet cunt over the hardness of his dick.

“Fuck—you’re so wet, baby. You like sucking my cock?” He growls, arms reaching around your stomach to pull your body flush against his chest.

When you reach your hand to wrap around his head to balance yourself, you see a view of your bodies together in your mirror. Courtesy of when you first moved in and due to you and Namjoon’s egocentric tendencies of wanting to see you guys fucking each other.

“S-So much Joon.” You garble.

His hand reach down to cup your mound and digs his palm into your clit as you grind down against his hand. You feel him loosely trace over your clit to gather your wetness into his hand to lather it over his dick.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He whispers in your ear when he lines his cock against your entrance.

You whine, excitement erupting inside of you—until he finally slides it.

It definitely takes you by surprise because your husband was big. And the fact that you haven’t had his dick in you for months made it much more of a pleasant surprise when he bottoms out completely in one swift thrust of his hips, which causes your body to fall forward as your hands grip the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck. This tight pussy’s mine, right?” He growls.

You nod your head into the sheets as he begins with a few experimental thrusts as you adjust to the slight, yet pleasurable, sting in your lower half.

Until you squeeze his hand on your hip to give him the go, Namjoon settles for slow thrusts into your pussy, but it’s enough to prod at your pleasurable spot because not only is Namjoon smart, kind, funny, handsome and ridiculously a great father—he is phenomenal at sex. Probably why he knocked you up on the night of your honeymoon with your bundle of joy.

Namjoon begins snapping his hips into yours relentlessly like a man starved, and starved he was. He’s missed the wet heat of your pussy; and God did he love your daughter—but he missed this—your pussy.

“F-Fuuuuu—” You’re heaving.

Namjoon continues to thrust into your pussy, angling his hips upwards so that he’d reach places deeper than ever as your eyes roll to the back of your heart in pleasure.

“Fuck—this—tight—pussy—” His words follow the sharpness of his thrusts and you don’t even know where to grab because all your sensations are heightened, especially when Namjoon reaches a hand down to your clit to begin rubbing it vigorously.

“Nam—Joon!”

You’re so wet that the squelch of his thrusts is echoed in your bedroom, and the only thing you hear besides that is your loud moans and the heavy breathing coming from Namjoon.

It’s only when he plants his knees firmly into the mattress and brings your hips to meet his thrusts is when you feel your pussy clench uncontrollably around his cock as you wail out his name.

“Fuck, baby—you’re clenching—so—hard.” He groans, pushing his hips deeper into your pussy.

“Love your cock,” You moan, “Fuck—Joon, please—fuck your cum into me.”

“Yeah?” He grits his teeth and flips your over effortlessly, dragging your leg over his shoulder as he begins pounding into you even harder as he admires the way your face contorts in pleasure.

“Yeah.” You nod your head like a sex-crazed maniac because your husband was just too good with his hips.

“Gonna give you another baby.” He whispers when he leans down into your face as your eyes widen at his declaration. Your pussy reacts too, gushing out even more wetness as it becomes tighter around Namjoon’s cock.

“Fuck. You like that idea? A sibling for Chan’?” He grinds his pelvis into your clit as his words spur your second orgasm for the night on.

“No shit?” You gasp when he revs up his spit in the back of his throat, looking at your mouth invitingly.

“Yeah,” He says breathlessly, and you open your mouth to welcome his tongue when he drops the glob of spit down your throat.

You whine, feeling your orgasm coming so closely.

“Fuck Joon—I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

You feel Namjoon’s hips stutter and you know he’s coming soon too.

“Me too baby.” He tells you while giving you the set of most adoring eyes ever. Even as he’s fucking you into the next dimension, Namjoon makes you feel so utterly loved and whole that you can’t imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else.

He snaps his hips the hardest he’s ever done throughout the entire night, and you feel your pussy throb so much; signalling to you and Namjoon that your release was right there.

“Baby—I’m gonna—I’m gonna c-cum,” You grab onto his shoulder to pull him closer to you.

He welcomes it and leaves open mouth kisses onto your mouth as he fucks into you like a mad man.

“Cum.”

That’s all it takes for you to reach an explosive orgasm, one that quite literally causes you to blank out for a second because while Namjoon’s hot cum spurts into your pussy short after you came, he feels your body go limp in his embrace; causing his eyes to widen.

Only until you’re blinking up at him dazedly is when he holds you to his chest, as you feel his chest rumble when he chuckles.

“Baby … I thought you died.” He cards a hand through your hair and you smile at him, stupidly in love.

“If I die because of your dick I’d be happy.” You grin at him cutely. And he scoffs at the way you look so cute after you’ve been fucked to hell and back.

“My horny little monster,” He flicks your forehead as you bring him close to your chest, his dick still settled inside of you. But there was a sort of intimacy that you couldn’t quite put words to, but welcomed the gesture nevertheless.

“Were you serious?” You ask after a while of sharing a few intimate pecks to each others’ lips.

He finally pulls out to roll on his side as he reaches over to pull your close to his chest. He raises an eyebrow at your expression when you feel his cum leak out of you.

“God you really didn’t jack off recently, did you?” You ask.

He pecks you on the nose as he quickly tugs clean boxers over his legs and disappears into your on-suite. You sigh to yourself dreamily, thinking of how lucky you were to be with someone as loving and compassionate as Namjoon was.

You weren’t necessarily unlucky when it came to your relationships prior to him, but there would always be dealbreakers that caused splits to be more bitter than neutral. Namjoon was the only man in your life that you could speak to without fearing any judgement from because he wasn’t like that. He knew how to make you feel wanted and also how to want yourself, all while being your best friend and partner.

When he returns, he returns with a damp cloth and immediately begins cleaning up the mess between your thighs, even as he cheekily mentions how there was more from where that came from as you slap him on the shoulder.

Once he ensures he’s satisfied, he tosses the cloth into the laundry basket and grabs a big t-shirt of his to slip it over your body. You hum in satisfaction as his scent overwhelms you, even more so when he tugs you close to his body and he looks at you with all the love in the world.

“You asked if I was serious earlier?” He repeats your question and you nod your head looking up at him.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathy smile when he leans down to pull your face towards his own as you admire all the freckles and pores on his skin, fingers tracing loosely over the wrinkles that come with age.

“I know it’s sudden but … I’ve been thinking about our family and—I want our family to become bigger.” He tells you like it’s a secret. You know he’s been mulling over it for quite a while because he looks a little unsure of himself, but all you can do is smile widely at him.

“Really?” You ask, playing with the hair on the back of his neck when you feel his fingers trace over the skin on your back.

“Of course. I love you, and I love Chanmi. I’ve always wanted kids and you brought the best gift in my life to me and … I can’t explain how happy I am when I’m with the two of you.” He smiles at you gently.

You don’t know if it’s because he just fucked you so good, or was it because you were lovesick, but your eyes water because Namjoon was Namjoon.

“But—if you’re not ready then I understand and we can—”

“Yes.” You interrupt him.

His eyes widen as you see the excitement begin to pour into his irises.

“Wait—really?” He asks innocently.

You nod your head and kiss him on the lips softly, no rush as he returns the gesture, holding you close onto his chest where you feel the best in his arms.

“Yes really. I want what you want. And I think it’s about time Chanmi gets a sibling, no?” You tease.

He groans like you’re unreal as he buries his head into the crook of your neck as you caress him gently. Namjoon was really just like an oversized baby and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“When?” He asks.

You tease your fingertips down to his chest and offer him a knowing look.

“Now?” You feign indifference but you can see the wide grin he sports on his face.

“Fuck. Don’t say that. I think my dick is going to fall off at how hard I fucked you just now,” He whined.

“You’re getting old,” You massage his shoulders as he sighs.

“I am …” He acknowledges, “But we’ll grow old together, right?”

The prospect of a future of unknowns with Namjoon only makes your heart bloom. You nod your head, not another word need to be uttered as he holds you in his arms, excited for what’s to come.

1K notes · View notes

noteguk · 3 years

Note

i was wondering how bad influence! jk and oc started interacting? like what made them start talking

[ ! ] this dabble is a prequel to “bad influence”

— words; 1.6k

Your professor was looking at you with expectation, the small piece of paper hanging between his fingers like the sword of Damocles over your head. You were staring at him in silence for a few seconds now, and the whole situation was starting to get awkward.

“So,” he pressed on, dangling the paper in front of your eyes. On it, the name and phone number of one of your classmates. “What do you say?”

When he asked you to stay after class, you expected it would be something related to tutoring. Your professor had mentioned it in passing a few times before, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise when he told you he had found you someone who really needed your assistance. You were beaming with joy for precisely a minute and twenty one seconds until he revealed the name of your student.

Jeon Jungkook.

Before you had any chance to muster an excuse for why you couldn’t — under any circumstance — get close to someone like that, even less tutor him, your professor already had his card up his sleeve. “It’ll be good for your curriculum.”

And you said yes in a heartbeat.

Jungkook was predictable. You knew that he would be late (after all, his cringy bad boy persona would never allow him to follow one single rule in his life), you just didn’t know it would be almost two-hours-late. By the point that you saw that hurricane in human form walking into the library, you had already finished your homework for the entire week.

He had the nerve to smirk at you, and you swore an oath to yourself that you wouldn’t present him with the irritation he was expecting. And you didn’t — with all the patience and kind-heartedness that your parents had pushed down your throat your entire life, you put on your best commercial smile and greeted him like he was just in time.

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s start with the basics and go over some defense cells.” You tugged the heavy Immunology book towards you, quickly flipping the pages towards the chapter that you had chosen for that first session. Jungkook had already taken his typical slouched position on the chair next to you, looking like he was about to slide down to the carpeted floor. “I’d like to know how familiar you are with it, though. Can you start by telling me about the types of lymphocytes?”

He chuckled, running one hand through his hair. “I have no idea what that shit is.”

You took a deep breath and ignored the irritation that was building up on your stomach. You didn’t know how someone could be so indifferent about everything. “Well... that’s why I’m here,” you managed to keep your voice cheerful.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re here because you wanna get paid, princess. No need to play the Good Samaritan.”

You thought about telling him that you weren’t getting paid, but the idea wasn’t the best one. He’d probably mock you even more for wasting your Friday afternoon tutoring in the name of your curriculum. Not that he knew the importance of that, anyways.

“This is some bullshit.” Jungkook rested his head on his crossed arms, lying over the table, pushing away your pens and notebooks as he did so. His black hair fell over his features as he grouchily mumbled out, “I don’t even know why I chose this class, it has nothing to do with my major.”

You were surprised that he was even majoring in something, instead of just frequenting the campus as an excuse to meet girls. “Well, I can't answer that for you, can I?” You asked, tapping on his book’s hardcover. That little antibody drawing was staring at you in a silent mockery, wondering if you’d be able to make him study — or even care about anything. “But I can help you with the rest. Now, come on. Types of lymphocytes.”

His eyebrows came down to form a confused frown. Jungkook would’ve probably given you the same reaction if you had just called his mother all the filthy names you could think of. “You’re really trying to teach me?” He asked. “Like, for real?”

You sighed. The time you taught your little cousin how to read was less frustrating than that. “It’s kind of my job as a tutor, you know.”

Jungkook rose from his position and leaned back against the chair, his arms crossing before his chest. Beneath them, his strong pecs stressed against the fabric of his white shirt, but you refused to look. “You know that you can just pretend to teach me, I can pretend to learn, and you’re gonna get your credits anyways, right?” He asked as if you were the stupidest person he had ever met. “You don’t need to actually put in the effort, princess. Especially since I don’t give any fucks about immunology.”

If he called you that stupid pet name one more time, you swore you were going to knock him out. “Well, I’m already here, I’d rather do things right.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. “God, you’re so booooring,” he groaned. “Don't you have some charity work to do or something?”

“I’m doing it right now.” You smiled. “I can see that you’re really trying to fail this class, don’t get me wrong. But I’m just trying to do my job—“

“Boooooring,” he sang, louder than the librarian would ever allow if she was close enough to hear him. Jungkook looked back at you, his eyes narrowed. You couldn’t really tell if he was disgusted or just annoyed. “Why do you even care? It’s just some stupid class, it doesn’t even matter. I’ll tell the professor you taught me everything and we can both go home.”

“I can’t do that,” you said, firm.

“Why not?”

“First of all, because that’s wrong,” you told him. Just as you were about to say that, also, his unavoidable horrible grades would make clear that he hadn’t learned shit (which would make you look like a clown instead of a tutor), his laugh ruptured your sentence.

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me.” He smiled brightly — not a tender one, of course, but one full of perverse mockery. You had never met someone as condescending as Jungkook, and he was managing to push every single button inside you. “That’s wrong? What are you, six?”

You frowned. “You’re the child here, just trying to find a easy way out instead of putting in the eff—“

“What are your dreams, princess?” He interrupted again, leaning his head to the side. You really, really, really hated him. “Wait, no, let me guess. A family, a suburban house, and a dog? A nine to five? Something like that? Having your husband cheat with the babysitter before you’re forty?”

Some part of you knew that he was just trying to make you so angry that you would give up on tutoring him. Jungkook didn’t know that you wouldn’t throw away your obligations so quickly, but he was able to make you mad enough to get an answer. “What are yours?” you spat, kindness long forgotten. “Remaining unemployed, talentless, mentally trapped in your twenties, and fucking desperate milfs for money until you die from an early overdose?”

If your priest had heard you talk like that, he would most surely faint.

Jungkook, however, didn’t seem so horrified. In fact, his disgusted smile quickly morphed into a diverted one, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Uh,” he mumbled. “Interesting.”

The shame from your previous outburst was starting to weigh down on you, but you managed to keep it undercover. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had a mouth on you,” he said, clearly entertained. In a way, you were glad that he hadn’t taken your words to heart, because he could probably snap you in half if he was feeling like it. “You’re always so shy and shit. I thought you were going to cry.”

“I’m not shy,” you spoke, defensive. You had gotten close to shedding a couple tears, but he didn’t need to know that. You hated confrontation. “I just don’t wanna talk to people like you unless I’m obligated to.”

He raised his eyebrows — a silent threat. “People like me?”

There was a second of hesitation from your part that Jungkook didn’t miss. “Yes.” You couldn’t hold his piercing gaze. As much as Jungkook was annoying the shit out of you, you didn’t actually want to have a full-blown argument with him. Especially on university grounds. “People who can’t even tell me about lymphocytes. Now, are you done with your victimization session? Can we start, or do you wanna tell me more about how you’re burning college money and you are so superior because of it?”

He chuckled and looked you up and down — actually looked at you. Weirdly enough, it felt like the first time that Jungkook was actually seeing you, and not the empty shell of a stereotype that he had built for you in his peanut-sized brain. “You’re really trying here, aren’t you?” He asked.

You didn’t know if he was talking about the tutoring session anymore, but you decided not to bite. “Is that a sin now?” And, before he could say anything else, you added, “Page 124. Come on. Unlike you, I don’t have all day to sit around doing nothing.”

He smirked. “You’re more fun than you look, princess.”

And, for the first time, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t predictable — he actually opened the book on the page you told him to.

One hour later, he was already dozing off, a small puddle of saliva accumulating on top of his chaotic notes. Still, you counted that as a victory.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

#enemies to fuckbuddies: the fic #jungkook #jungkook fic #bts #drabble #bts drabble #bad influence #bad influence jk #bad boy jk #bad boy jungkook #good girl reader #x you #x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader

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yeojaa · 3 years

Text

feed me, fight me.

pairing. boxer!jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!). wc. 3.5k. beta reader. @hobi-gif, always. 💖 author note. i’m really into comfort fics rn so...

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend? (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out. It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut. It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking. It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness. It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space.

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason? When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)? How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more?

“Cut it out,” he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare. A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright. It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension.

“Cut what out?” Your retort is punctuated by the smack of leather on leather, the worn edge of your boxing glove meeting the pad that Jungkook raises just in time to avoid a black eye.

“What’s your problem?” How he manages to snipe back - somehow sounding disgruntled by your behaviour - you’re not sure. All you know is it boils your blood, searing heat within your veins when he effortlessly blocks your next jab. He knows you well and knows the sport better, predicting each movement as if you’re telegraphing it all with a giant neon sign on your forehead.

(You probably are. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, pinning your heart on your sleeve, your sadness heavy in your mouth. They wear you, rather than you it. A weakness of yours.)

“You’re my problem.”

“Shut up.” It’s not the usual exasperated annoyance he levels you with, meaner and paired with a swat of your gloved hand. He’s not supposed to be countering you, instead only blocking the punches you throw his way.

(But then again - when did he ever listen to you? When did he ever do what he was supposed to?)

(It’s not a fair assertion. You’re just mad. Livid beyond belief, standing atop this hill that you’ll happily die on.)

“Fuck you,” you snap, offering the petulant comeback in the same instance you surge forward. He blocks your jab - sees it coming from a mile away - and goes to block your hook.

Except it never comes, your knee straightening out instead, hard edge of your shin slamming right into the side of his leg.

He crumples more out of surprise than anything, eyes wide, all the anger swept away by something closer to astonishment. It shines impossibly bright in his eyes, turning his entire expression upside down when his knee hits the ground. By how he falls, you’re sure you’ve hit just the right spot, left his nerve endings buzzing uncomfortably as the feeling leaves the limb.

“Are you serious?” You know he’s genuinely baffled then, voice slipping, cracking in a way you’d normally find adorable. (It goes to show how upset you are, the awkward split of his words doing nothing to soothe your temper.) “What’s your issue?” He’s still seated on the floor, rocking back on his heels, brow knit in consternation. It’d take him seconds to jump up - to put you on your ass - but he chooses to remain where he is, staring up at you with that look on his face.

(That look you love. That you hate. That makes your insides turn to goo on his best days and misery on your worst. That you’ve seen every single day for the last three years, as the first thing upon waking up and the last thing before passing out. That makes you hesitate now, peering down into it.)

(Were you being unnecessary? Unbearable? Was this on you?)

“I’m going home.” It’d be nice to tear your gloves off, throw them in his face and storm off in a huff. It’d cause the scene you’re hoping for, push him to where you need. (Because that’s the thing about Jungkook - he doesn’t react otherwise and you’re sick of it.) Instead, you turn on your heel and slink away, silent as a mouse.

You’re tired. Too tired. Why had you started something you couldn’t finish?

It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re home alone for hours that night, curled up in bed and half-asleep when light from the hallway spills into your bedroom. It comes with hardly any noise, a tell-tale sign he’s trying not to wake you (or disturb you or get caught). You almost let it slide when his figure appears in the doorway, broad frame swallowed up by the oversized sweater he wears.

He’s moving near silently, having already deposited his gym bag in the laundry room. He doesn’t even switch the light on, moving around in the muted glow of the hallway, fumbling as he strips his clothes off and tosses them into the hamper against the wall.

You expect him to head directly into the en suite, wash away whatever grime he’s accumulated throughout the day. He’s always been this way, far too concerned with dragging in odour and dirt into your bed to do otherwise.

Except tonight, he doesn’t follow his usual routine. Tonight, he makes a detour.

The bed dips before you realise what’s happening, grip on the pillow under your head tightening. Words fit between your teeth, ready to spill out, lash out, tear out like a bullet deadset on landing a bullseye.

“I’m sorry.” Two words you’ve been waiting to hear, that startle you enough to throw your anger out the window, tossing them out with the wash. “I don’t know why you’re upset but I’m sorry for whatever it is.” He’s speaking into the quiet of your bedroom. You can feel his hand settled on the bed, wrist somewhere over the line of your spine.

Oh - he thinks you’re asleep.

“Things have been crazy. I’ve been stressed.” Here, under cover of night, he’s vulnerable, explanation tumbling forth uncertainly. You can hear it in the way the words form, syllables slipping into each other - a sure sign of his exhaustion. “I know that’s not an excuse, so I’ll be better.” Though he readjusts, weight distributing differently over the bed, he isn’t touching you. You can only imagine how he looks, the posture he’s taken on, arms leant over knees, hands twisting together in that way of his that begs a silent help me. A version of him you’ve seen only a handful of times.

(Jeon Jungkook does not let things get to him. Never has, likely never will. He’s immaculately put together, strung tight by years of growing up too fast, wanting too much and fearing it’ll slip away. He goes and goes until he can’t any more and only then does he still, crashing headlong over a cliff of his own creation.)

It’s then that you realise while you’ve grown irritated with his preoccupation, coming second to the man you’ve only ever put first, he’s been suffering right alongside you. Differently, certainly, but suffering nonetheless. Holding his cards close as he’s always done, shouldering all the things on his own and hoping for the best.

Irritation flares first. Anger at the fact that he hadn’t confided in you. It burns bright, erodes everything else in its path.

And then it dims almost immediately, overshadowed by a tenderness that blooms in the small of your chest. Rosebuds that fill the cavity and swath affection in broad strokes, colouring everything purple - a pretty mosaic made up of equal parts love and sadness.

“You should’ve said something.”

Bambi-eyed baby is your nickname for your boyfriend - one he reluctantly wears, scowls at when you use it in public - and yet you’re still blown away by the glossiness of his stare, how wide it goes when you roll to face him, simultaneously flicking your bedside light on. There’s embarrassment crowding his expression, lighting up every handsome facet of his features in technicolour. He works to hide it almost immediately, moves back on the bed as if he might find himself a home in the shadows.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you, stare focused on your pillow case, the white linen that you’d bought when you’d moved in together. “Did I wake you up?”

Though his concern is real, you know it’s a distraction too. His way of deflecting, shifting the focus back to you.

(Jeon Jungkook doesn’t live in the spotlight. Hates it, in fact. It’s a curious combination - wanting to be praised, to show off, and yet fearing failure so strongly. A worrying mix when he’s down and an endearing one when he’s up.)

You’re still cocooned, still held far enough away that he hasn’t run for the hills, locking himself in the bathroom to put a further physical barrier between you. Should you move too fast, you know he’ll spook. Push too hard, he’ll leave.

“Couldn’t sleep without you.” It’s true enough. Dreams had evaded you for the better part of the evening, held somewhere by hands inked like his, blemished by scars and calluses like his. They’d been kept in his coat pocket, tucked behind his ear. (So maybe it’d been anger, too, that’d kept you up. That doesn’t matter now.)

The disbelief is evident, both in his words and the quirk of his mouth, bathed in dim light. “Really?”

(You sometimes wonder how different the two of you see things. What a day looks like from his point of view - whether he reads all of your interactions in the same way. You’ve always been terribly incompatible in that way, opposites in so many respects that it’d frankly baffled your friends when you’d started dating.

You were intent - sometimes too intent - on resolving problems, never letting up. Forcing conversations you felt you needed to have, demanding answers even before there was one. He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with conflict, choosing to ignore the things that bothered him until they went away. It’d driven you absolutely insane at first, made you worry that it was you that was the issue, simply being too much.

But over time - three long years, to be exact - you’d found a common ground. Or so you’d thought.)

“Why are you so surprised?”

“You were pissed earlier.” There’s a lightness to his tone, careful consideration poured into each word he offers, as if he’s navigating a minefield. You’ve had these kinds of disagreements too many times for him to believe otherwise, as if his caution is a part of him, stitched lovingly - forcefully - by your hand. “Thought you wouldn’t wait up for me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you retort before you can help it, still just a little childish, a little hurt. “But you know I hate going to bed angry.” Of course he knows. He’s lost hours of sleep due to your insistence that everything be talked out.

He hums a noncommittal sound - more of a grunt - and you know your window is closing. Now that you’re not out for blood, he’s retreating as he always does. Readying himself to rise from the bed, close this half-read chapter and move onto the next.

You beat him before he can, curling your fingers around his wrist, over the dangling silver chain. (His birthday gift this year, heavy metal that’s cold under your touch.)

“Don’t.”

One blink. Another. Slow and confused - deliberately so. Then he’s looking away, staring down at the ground as if you haven’t just read his next move. The ring might be his domain but home is yours; it’s the one place you hold the upper hand. “What?”

“Don’t leave.” It’s easy to read the meaning in between your words, the unspoken request that might as well be brilliant red ink. It’s far kinder than your usual demands, more pleading than begrudging, more need than want.

“I need to shower.”

It’s not a no - which you suppose is a win.

“Just wait.” Your request comes with an adjustment, whole tired frame rising from the bed only to sink back down - this time against your partner, your other half, your infuriating love. He accepts you readily, dropping his ink-strewn hand over your covered thigh. The weight is comforting over the warmth of the duvet, grounding you in the quiet of your home.

“I’m gross,” he complains, though he doesn’t make to move away. Stays right by your side when you drop your head against his bare shoulder. “Now you’re gross.”

“We can be gross together.” Because you’re not ready for him to leave you, to close the door as he so often does. (And, for once, you’re not quite as angry, not seeking an argument that’ll give you the resolution you hope for. You want communication, open and honest. You want him, vulnerable and soft.)

A little sigh comes, a puff of breath that expands his doughy cheeks and sends wayward strands fluttering. It’s less resigned and more endeared - you know how much it means when his acquiesces like this.

Maybe he wants those same things, you think.

“Do you wanna shower?” You ask in perfect tandem, words folding together. You nod in the same way.

Encased in the small space - it’s different. He’s preoccupied, back turned to you, shielding you from the slow-heating stream. It’s as if his mind is a thousand lightyears away, trapped somewhere with the stars as the water rains down around the two of you, fogging the glass and wetting his hair.

“Babe?”

There’s a delay before he reacts, peering over his shoulder at you, a faraway look in his eyes. You wonder what he’d been thinking of, whether he’s still on the same page as you or if he’s skipped ahead as he tends to do. When he speaks, you have your answer, his words flicking through paper to bring you two where you need to be.

“Can you wash my hair?” An indulgent treat he rarely requests, one he seldom allows. He’s far too on the go, jumping from this to that to spend much time like this with you.

It’s a sign if there ever was one.

You reach for your shampoo bottle wordlessly, popping the cap and depositing sweet peach-scented liquid into your hands. They fold into his strands carefully, tips of your fingers pressing into his scalp, delightful bubbles accumulating between your digits. He doesn’t make a sound but you feel the way he relaxes, practically melting into your touch as you work the cleanser through his roots, careful to keep the suds from descending into his eyes.

When was the last time you’d done this? Weeks ago? Months, maybe? You honestly can’t recall. (Not that it matters now. You’ve found yourselves back here, terribly tender and intimate in the dead of night. Almost as if no time has passed at all.)

Silence stretches between the two of you. You don’t even need to instruct him to rinse, running seamlessly through the routine without hesitation.

Conditioner replaces shampoo, deft fingers combing through the few knots in his feather soft strands. Though there are hardly any, you know he loves when you take extra care, treating him in ways he’d never ask for otherwise. He savours these quiet moments of almost-solitude, spoiled rotten by your familiar touch and comforting affection.

You’d give it every single day if you could. Had, in fact.

That’s what’d brought you here, after all.

“‘m sorry,” he says - mumbles really - surprising you as you’re working your fingers into the nape of his neck, concentrating on the tension that’s carved out a home beneath muscle and sinew, turned bone iron-clad.

“For what?”

Any other time, it might’ve come across demanding, needing an answer that would soothe whatever inadequacy he’d somehow strung your heart up with. Now, it’s genuine, asked more for him than you.

You want to be let in. Need it.

“Being out of it, I guess.” It’s a lot for him - admitting this. “I’ve just been busy and I guess I kind of just—“ The imposing line of his shoulders rise and fall, a mountain range disturbed by the uncertainty in his voice.

“Forgot about me?” You don’t mean it meanly. It’s a simple statement of fact, one the both of you have to face.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

You deliberate accepting the apology and moving on, sweeping it under the rug because he’s already come so much further than you’d thought he would. But that’s not the kind of person you are, so you press just a little more, stand just a little taller.

“I don’t think I ask for the world, Kook.” Maybe more than some people. Maybe less than others. “If I’m being too much, I’d rather you let me know than shut me out.”

A sigh comes, so heavy you wonder whether he might be Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“No, I know.”

“Do you?”

(At some point you’d stopped massaging the conditioner in, opting to crowd your hands over his back, working into the knots that run beneath his skin. He hadn’t been lying - he’s stiff as a board, entire broad form twitching any time you press the pads of your thumbs into a particularly sensitive spot.)

“I thought I’d figure it out myself,” he reasons, in that oh-so impossible Jeon Jungkook way of his. “Didn't realise it was taking a toll on you.”

“On us,” you correct, not at all tactful.

“On us,” he agrees with another sigh, smaller this time, tinged blue with something that feels like guilt and fills up the glass space.

“We’re a team, you know.”

(You know he knows. You just have to remind him sometimes, anchor him with the knowledge that it’s not him against the world. That you’re in his corner - always.)

“I know.”

When he turns to look at you - doesn’t even flinch when the sudden movement has you wobbling on your feet, catches you when you stumble - you don’t doubt that. He loves you just as much as you love him, sees the whole world in the small of your stare.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, two hands coming to cradle your face, palms warm over each cheek. “Just give me some time.” For what, you’re not sure. You don’t mind waiting to find out though - willing to weather the storm just to see him happy.

Jungkook holds you close, threads his fingers through yours and peppers love into the silk of your hair. Dresses your skin in the heat of his affection and sears his signature into the velvet of your skin, teeth dragging, tongue gliding.

“Is this better?” He means how he holds you, how he treats you like porcelain as he fucks you slow and tender, keeps one leg hooked back over his own.

It’s not that this is the kind of lovemaking you prefer but rather the one you need, with him consuming you wholly, sweetly, filling you with each fluid roll of his hips and nothing else. No elaborate dirty talk, no overzealous bouncing, just the two of you together, curled against each other like you might not survive otherwise.

He’s not pushing you to your finish with deft fingers over your clit, not taking his fill with greedy hands. He’s simply there, with you, feeling every curve of your body as he sinks into your aching cunt and sighs as if he’s in heaven. (And maybe he is - because where he is could only ever be where you are and you feel like you’re floating, weightless and lovestruck, anchored only to your bed by the hand that squeezes yours and the mouth that purrs your name.)

“Yes,” you breathe, exhale in a breath that seems to take all of your effort. It’s hard to focus when he splits you open so well, fills your pussy and your heart and makes your chest erupt with a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

When he says it like that - folds it like a promise and tucks it into the spot behind your ear - you know it’s true. Even if you don’t always feel it, even if he doesn’t always show it, there’s not a doubt in your mind.

In all the ways he can, he loves you. And whether that means enough from one day to the next, you don’t mind sticking around to find out. Not if it means more of this.

(Of him, of you, of your life together.)

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

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