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atticrissfinch · 1 year

Text

Gimme What I Want: A Fic in Texts

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader summary: the wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect… warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, porn w/o plot i’m sorry but not really, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink and degradation!kink (we love duality), light dom!joel vibes, pet names/degrading terms (darlin’, babygirl, pretty girl, whore, slut, bitch, etc), age gap (Joel is 56, reader is 25), implied masturbation (m & f), mentions of cream pies, sexting a stranger but it’s ok cause he’s a dilf, really bad innuendos word count: ~2.2k | ao3 a/n: biting the bullet and posting my first fic in literal years because Pedro is just…an inspiration what can I say. So I’m going with something a little lighter (conceptually, not topically…this is just smut lmao). Pls be nice I am c r u s t y with my writing rn ty <3 (gif from ketokitsune on reddit)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

[5:32 PM] UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey Doug, this is Joel. Tommy gave me your number, he mentioned a build job you might have for us? Happy to chat whenever, just let me know.

[5:40 PM] You: Good to hear from you Joel. Unfortunately I’ve vowed to never do work with a man whose name starts with the letter “J”. Nothing personal

[5:46 PM] Joel: Uh…no disrespect intended…but are you jokin?

[5:52 PM] You: ‘Fraid not. J is reserved for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen

[6:10 PM] Joel: Well…I guess in that case, let me know if you change your mind. God bless, I suppose

[6:12 PM] You: I’m totally fucking with you, man. You got the wrong number

[6:12 PM] You: Sorry I couldn’t resist

[6:15 PM] Joel: Wait, serious?

[6:16 PM] You: As a heart attack. Sorry about that

[6:18 PM] Joel: You got me good, I gotta admit. Head is still reeling a little bit LOL

[6:19 PM] You: I get my kicks where I can

[6:23 PM] Joel: Well sorry to bother you. Thanks for the chuckle

[6:27 PM] You: So you’re construction or something?

[6:30 PM] Joel: Yup. General contractor at your service

[6:30 PM] You: Your own business?

[6:31 PM] Joel: Is indeed

[6:32 PM] You: Damn, big bossman. Pretty hot

[6:35 PM] Joel: You’re silly. Im just an old man who’s put in too many years of work. Got achy bones

[6:40 PM] You: I know you’re not supposed to ask this on a first date, but how old are you, Joel?

[6:42 PM] Joel: HA! You’re a funny one! LOL

[6:42 PM] Joel: 56 very long years old

[6:45 PM] You: Oh, now, that’s not so old!

[6:50 PM] Joel: Tell that to my knees. LOL

[7:03 PM] You: You lay a lot of pipe as a contractor, Joel?

[7:06 PM] Joel: Suppose I do. Gotta have plumbing. Why do you ask?

[7:15 PM] You: Actually been looking for someone to come snake my drain

[7:19 PM] Joel: I mean you’re probably lookin for more of a plumber in that case. I got some contacts if you need one

[7:25 PM] You: I prefer someone who knows how to lay pipe to snake my drain 😏

[7:36 PM] Joel: I feel like you may be talkin about somethin different than I am. Less appropriate maybe

[7:37 PM] You: It’s possible

[7:46 PM] Joel: if we’re breaking those rules I suppose I should ask how old YOU are. ‘Fore I say somethin stupid

[7:46 PM] Joel: or illegal

[7:47 PM] You: Well at least you’re careful. I’m 25. Safely out of “jail bait” territory

[7:48 PM] Joel: Golly. 25. Jesus was I a hellion at 25. Hope you’re better behaved than I was

[7:50 PM] You: I bet there’s still a little hellion in you 😉

[7:51 PM] You: I could stand to have a little more hellion in me, if you catch my drift 😉

[7:58 PM] Joel: You’re a bitta trouble ain’t you

[7:59 PM] Joel: What you doing flirtin with a man over twice your age

[7:59 PM] Joel: A STRANGER at that

[8:00 PM] You: Oh I found you on google about an hour ago already. Not so strange anymore.

[8:00 PM] You: Miller Contracting, right? In Austin?

[8:02 PM] Joel: I’ll be damned. We got a regular Nancy Drew on our hands.

[8:03 PM] You: Wasnt terribly difficult 😂 Already had your first name, area code, and occupation.

[8:03 PM] Joel: Well shit if that ain’t a reminder to be more careful…

[8:05 PM] You: You’re a very handsome man, Joel Miller

[8:07 PM] Joel: Think you’re lookin at Tommy. He’s the face of the operation. I’m just the brains.

[8:08 PM] You: Oh no, I see Tommy here. But he’s not who I’m looking at. There’s a couple pics of you on google.

[8:08 PM] You: Salt and pepper hair. Scruffy beard. Nice sturdy build. Little scowl. Sound like you?

[8:09 PM] Joel: Damned if it don’t I guess

[8:09 PM] You: Definite silver fox

[8:10 PM] Joel: Well I’m blushin over here. Thanks darlin

[8:10 PM] Joel: I’m sure you’re a beautiful young woman

[8:15 PM] You: How about you let me know

[8:15 PM] You: [Image Attached]

[8:15 PM] Joel: SHIT

[8:15 PM] Joel: Darlin you can’t just be sendin stuff like that!

[8:16 PM] You: I’m fully covered!

[8:16 PM] Joel: Barely!

[8:17 PM] You: I suppose I should have asked if you’re married

[8:17 PM] Joel: Might’ve been smart. But luckily no. Wouldn’t want to have to explain that shit to no one

[8:17 PM] Joel: Wrong number suddenly sending me…pics like that

[8:19 PM] Joel: Not that it’s a BAD picture. You certainly are an undeniable beauty

[8:19 PM] Joel: But you ARE trouble just like I said

[8:20 PM] You: Well then I have to ask. Do you like trouble, Mr Miller?

[8:21 PM] Joel: Hey now don’t be callin me that…Mr Miller, that was my daddy

[8:21 PM] You: Is that so

[8:21 PM] You: How would you feel about me calling you my daddy?

[8:22 PM] Joel: Jesus christ darlin…you are a forward little devil aren’t u

[8:22 PM] Joel: A little temptress

[8:22 PM] You: I tend to know what I want.

[8:22 PM] Joel: Seems like it

[8:25 PM] Joel: Ok. I’ll bite. In that pic…that really you? That what you’re wearin right now?

[8:25 PM] You: It is. You like?

[8:26 PM] Joel: Lord strike me down, but I do. You wear it real nice. Skimpy little top. Those wicked little daisy dukes. Like you’re right out of a fuckin dirty magazine

[8:27 PM] Joel: What would your daddy say if he saw you takin pictures like that and sendin em to strange old men like me?

[8:27 PM] You: I dunno, daddy, what would you say?

[8:27 PM] Joel: Fuck me. You’re a naughty fuckin thing aint you

[8:28 PM] You: VERY naughty. And I think you like that.

[8:33 PM] Joel: Goddamn it. Alright if you wanna be naughty who am I to stop you, darlin

[8:33 PM] Joel: Show me a little more

[8:42 PM] Joel: Shit I’m sorry that was too much

[8:43 PM] You: [Image Attached]

[8:43 PM] You: Just wanted to get it right

[8:43 PM] Joel: Christ, you are…..

[8:43 PM] Joel: That is the finest pair of tits I may have ever seen in all my years. All pulled out of that flimsy little shirt. Absolutely perfect

[8:43 PM] You: Thank you, daddy. I’m glad you like them.

[8:44 PM] Joel: I more than like em. God would I love to…

[8:44 PM] You: Love to what? Tell me, daddy.

[8:45 PM] Joel: Goddammit somethin about you callin me that darlin

[8:45 PM] Joel: Got me all fucked up in the head

[8:45 PM] Joel: I want them in my hands. In my face. My mouth

[8:45 PM] Joel: Bet they look fuckin exquisite bouncin up and down on…

[8:46 PM] You: On what, daddy?

[8:47 PM] Joel: You got my filter all turned off babygirl. Thinkin some things that’ll send me straight to hell. Specially with a young thing like you

[8:48 PM] You: Let me be real clear then. I like older men, Joel. Like how much they KNOW. All that experience. All that practice. 56 years, I know you know how to talk to a woman. So talk.

[8:49 PM] Joel: Shit

[8:49 PM] Joel: Fuck it then. I certainly don’t aim to disappoint

[8:49 PM] Joel: Those gorgeous tits would look downright sinful if you were bouncin on my cock

[8:50 PM] You: Fuck yes daddy

[8:50 PM] Joel: You touchin yourself babygirl?

[8:51 PM] You: Just my tits right now. Imagining those big, rough hands of yours all over them.

[8:51 PM] Joel: That’s good, babygirl. Squeeze those tits for me.

[8:51 PM] Joel: Fuck. Sendin me dirty pics. Callin me your daddy. You’ve got this dick nice and hard. Might pull it out in a second

[8:51 PM] Joel: Would you like to see it?

[8:52 PM] You: Yes please daddy

[8:52 PM] Joel: Good girl

[8:54 PM] Joel: [Image Attached]

[8:54 PM] Joel: All for you babygirl

[8:55 PM] You: Holy fuck

[8:55 PM] You: I know every girl says this but I mean it, you are so fucking BIG

[8:55 PM] Joel: Haha believe me I know darlin

[8:55 PM] Joel: Had a lotta girls over the years have to take me real slow at first

[8:55 PM] Joel: But they all end up screamin my name just the same

[8:56 PM] You: Fuck I want it. Make me one of those girls. But don’t go slow.

[8:57 PM] Joel: Yeah? You want it rough pretty girl? Want to be split open on this cock? want me to make you take it like the filthy fucking whore you are?

[8:57 PM] You: FUCK. Yesyesyes please keep talking to me like that i’m touching myself daddy

[8:58 PM] Joel: I know you are baby. Can’t fucking help yourself. Begging and drooling over this cock since you started talkin to me. Slutty little girl wants to get fucked and degraded by an old man

[8:58 PM] You: Yes daddy I do I need your fucking huge cock in me PLEASE

[8:59 PM] Joel: Surprised a whore like you knows her manners so good, sayin please all pretty and nice

[8:59 PM] Joel: Matter fact when I put this cock in you, I better fuckin hear a thank you as well

[8:59 PM] You: THANK YOU DADDY

[9:00 PM] Joel: That’s right babygirl take that fucking cock and touch that pretty clit

[9:01 PM] You: Im already close daddy please please

[9:01 PM] Joel: Fuckin right you are. greedy little whore throbbin for this big cock. cum all over those soakin wet fingers thinkin bout me. god such a slutty little bitch aren’t you

[9:01 PM] You: Yessssss daddy im a slutty little bitch youre gonna make me cum

[9:02 PM] Joel: Stop textin and take a video of that dripping cunt comin for me. That fuckin orgasm belongs to me doesn’t it babygirl. Im givin it to you so I deserve to see it

[9:03 PM] Joel: So fuckin pretty babygirl got my cock so fuckin hard let me see that fucked pussy

[9:05 PM] You: [Video Attached]

[9:05 PM] Joel: Shit baby you are the filthiest thing I ever seen. Sound so sexy those little whimpers when u came fuck

[9:05 PM] Joel: Gonna make me cum all over my fist baby

[9:05 PM] Joel: Gonna pump this pussy full of my cum take this cock and this huge fuckin load up your cunt babygirl

[9:08 PM] Joel: [Video Attached]

[9:13 PM] You: Shit. That was. Fuck.

[9:14 PM] Joel: Not so quick-witted when you’re fucked stupid are you LOL

[9:14 PM] You: Shut up…

[9:15 PM] You: Goddamn you sure know how to sext I’ll tell you that

[9:16 PM] Joel: As you said. Had some practice over the years. Wink.

[9:16 PM] You: Oh god, do you not know how to use emojis to wink? 😂

[9:16 PM] You: Dinosaur 😝 🦕🦖

[9:17 PM] Joel: Yeah, well, if this “dinosaur” ever gets ahold a you, you’re gonna be real sorry for pokin fun at him, little girl

[9:20 PM] You: Well since you mention it…

[9:20 PM] You: It’s possible I might be in Austin too

[9:21 PM] Joel: I may have suspected. The area code n all

[9:22 PM] You: Wouldn’t it be REAL embarrassing if I did end up actually being that guy you were looking for? 😝

[9:24 PM] Joel: Shit, if Doug looks as fine as you I wouldn’t give a good goddamn LOL

[9:25 PM] Joel: I ain’t givin out any dick discounts though 😉

[9:25 PM] You: *gasp* you do know how to use emojis!

[9:26 PM] Joel: Quick learner 😉 Gotta be if I’m gonna be your daddy after all 😏

[9:30 PM] Joel: Well I’m mighty glad I texted the wrong number darlin

[9:31 PM] You: Me too 😊 Maybe someday we can try this in person…

[9:34 PM] Joel: I’ll bring the snake

[9:35 PM] You: 😂😂😂

____

Part 2

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#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #the last of us #katy wroted fic #daddy!joel miller

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simpjaes · 1 year

Text

SIMP

SUMMARY: men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.

jake sim x afab reader

MDNI!

WC: 5.6k

GENRE: smut, kinda subby!jake

TAGS: desperate jake, he’s experienced with sex just really bad at not being pussy drunk, reader has fun anyway and pokes fun at how he talked big game and couldn’t live up to it.

A/N: i know, i know. i’m supposed to be writing a different jake fic but this happened. this is a gift for my other monster cock loser jake lovers. not proof read

NSFW TAGS: he is packing a huge cock, nipple play, finger fucking, pussy eating, he gets compared to a dog/puppy a few times, dirty talk, jake gets desperate enough mid-way though and does fuck her really good, unprotected sex, cream pie, lots and lots and lots of cum.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Six times the man known as Jake Sim rendered you sore the next morning using nothing but pixel words on your phone screen. Six times over the span of two weeks.

You met him at a party, and he was both the first and the last man you spoke to that night. You should have caught on back then why he didn’t bring you home with him and only offered you his number with a wink and a shit-eating grin.

Now, as you see him in front of you again, this time in your apartment, you can see exactly why he didn’t bring you home. His facade would have been broken and you never would have been able to see the dirty little texts he’s able to send when he doesn’t have you looking him in the eye.

“Didn’t you say you were going to have me against every surface in my apartment the second you get here?” You question, twenty minutes into him being over and not once making a move on you.

He looks much more awkward compared to the tipsy man you originally met, still his dyed blond hair looks just as messy though. His fashion is still on par with the attitude you’d seen him throw at you too but, this version of him is throwing you for a loop. His lack of response leads you to believe that he must have lost interest in the span of time he’s been over.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” Jake finally responds, brushing his fingers through his hair as he sits stiffly next to you on your bed, fully clothed. “Usually I don’t actually come see the girls I text.”

You shuffle next to him, turning with an eyebrow raised at him.

“So you’re not going to, then?”

Jake looks at you dumbfounded, shaking his head as if to pity himself before nodding quickly.

“I’d like to,” he argues, fiddling with his hands and avoiding your eyes now. “I just, um…”

You wait, allowing the silence to take hold of the room.

“I’m a little more uh–” He fidgets and fumbles his words again. “Listen, I don’t want to disappoint you if I don’t live up to how we normally talk.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, feeling duped by the man sitting there.

“I’m actually kind of like–” He lets out a deep sigh before turning toward you with honest eyes. “You’re making me shy, okay?”

You breathe in, shocked because based on the strings upon strings of sentences he’s thrown your way via text, the last thing you’d ever consider Jake is fucking shy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He was right in telling you he was shy, and by now you appreciate the warning from him. It took a few minutes to get yourself back into the mood, but it happened nonetheless when he finally buckled under your gaze and kissed you.

If there was anything Jake did that he promised, it was kissing you in a way you never knew you needed. He was good at it too, so good that you nearly forgot he was supposed to have already fucked you on every surface the two of you passed to get to the very room you’re in right now.

Kind of strange actually, that he seems so different compared to his fantasies with girls he never thinks he will actually see again. So cocky in his text messages, saying he will ruin you, asking if you’d choke on his dick, saying he would love to see you struggle under him. Now though, that very man is struggling to keep his hands to himself despite admitting that he’s shy.

You chuckle into the kiss, feeling his hands reach for you with the sound of rustling clothing against your duvet. You let him chase as you slide lower, lower, lower, until your head is against your pillow and he’s practically hovering over you to keep kissing.

This is what you wanted. Jake over you, dominating a kiss and roaming his hands up and down your body.

“Shy?” You question between kisses, trailing your hand down to meet where his was, snaking under your shirt. “You seem to know exactly what you want.”

Jake’s eyes are empty as he looks at you, the cold feeling of his fingertips do not stop though. He continues to trail them upward until they meet the flesh of your chest, where you skipped the bra because you expected it to be a nuisance if anything tonight.

You’re shocked by his slight groan at the feeling of your already erect nipples. His groan seemed like it came out of relief, your body showing signs of being turned on despite his reluctance that was never promised to you.

“If you were like this over text, I still would have liked you, you know.” You admit to him with a sigh as he trails his lips down to your jaw, and you reach for his waist to pull him further on top of you. “You’re cute still, even if you’re not about to make me cry like you said you would.”

His cock twitches at that, wishing so much that he could live up to those dirty thoughts in his head and just fucking do it. But he can’t, because his body doesn’t work like that. If he were to do all of those things to you right now, he would surely come within the span of fifteen seconds and make this the worst fuck of your life. He’s too desperate to have control, and far too timid to even pull his cock out right now.

“It’s embarrassing,” he whispers against your earlobe, trailing kisses there too until he gets to the collar of your shirt. “I want to do those things to you, but I don’t think I’d be able to last if–”

He’s cut off by you shoving him up and pulling your shirt off in one go, trying to get to business much quicker now that he appears to at least be turned on. (Wrong, he’s been turned on since before he even got here.)

Jake trails off his sentence, forgetting what he was even going to say as the flesh of your breast sits comfortably in one of his hands and the other springs free. His cock twitches again as he stares, practically burning a hole through you as he looks, mouth slowly opening in a sigh at the image.

You see him malfunction and wonder if maybe, maybe, this could be even better than what you originally were expecting. Such a rough looking man with messy hair and even rougher fingers acting like this at the mere sight of some titties? Sign you the fuck up.

“God, look at you.” You groan with a smile, chuckling at the way he appears to blush. “You talk such big game but…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake shakes it off, releasing his hand from your chest and now removing his own shirt and revealing a nice, toned body for you to look at. “It’s not my fault you make me act this way.”

“Oh? Just me, or?”

Jake nods, then shakes his head.

“Not entirely, I’m just better at fucking over text.” He explains, now settling one leg between yours and dipping his head down to your chest, nuzzling against one of your tits and grabbing the other. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still want to fuck you right now though.”

You feel those words run through you, his soft voice coming out raspy and needy when he says it.

“You’re a weird one,” You laugh, gripping his hair and bucking your hips up to straddle his thigh. “and I still want you fuck me, even if it’s not the way you said you would.”

He licks against your chest now, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as he focuses on the feeling of you riding against his thigh. He’s thankful you still act desperate, at least you weren’t lying when you talked to him through texts.

“I’ll still make you feel good.” He whispers in a slight plea against your nipple, moving his head to the other and suckling against that one next. “Just let me try.”

God, you didn’t expect those four little words to hit you the way they do. A man asking you to let him try? Jake Sim at that? Sure, by now it should be expected but this is a different kind of heat flowing through you. Never have you been given control, and never have you felt the need to ride a man’s thigh like this.

“Jake,” You start, a little out of breath as you move your hips against him to the point that clothing becomes far more annoying than not. “Can we please take our clothes off before anything else?”

He pauses against your nipple, nodding before suckling again and then finally pulling away.

“You first.” He says, not yet wanting to pull his thigh from the way you move against it.

You look up at him, his lips glistening from his own saliva coating your chest.

“Why? Are you lying about your massive cock too?”

Jake looks down at the bulge between his legs and then back at you. Your eyes followed him to his cock, and they remained there.

“Oh.” You smile, now having the ability to pull yourself from his thigh and pull your shorts off at record speed. “Show me.”

Jake lets out a breathy and nervous chuckle, his ears flashing a darker shade of red than before as he nods to you in a timid way. You watch his hands go for the button and zipper, and you watch them further as they lower his pants to his knees before he kicks them away behind him. Now, all that’s left is looking at the already dampened spot on his briefs and the huge length stuffed beneath, clearly needing some relief.

He still looks away from you, not yet moving to take off his briefs until you feel his hands pull at your panties.

“Can I see now too?” He asks, already pulling them to the side and catching a glimpse of your folds. He shudders visibly at it before letting your panties snap back into place and all you can do is stare, still, between his legs.

“Take them off.” You deadpan.

He’s unsure if you’re implying he take his off, or yours, so he shoots for what he would prefer, gripping your panties and rolling them off of you.

“Take. them. off.” You say, ignoring the fact that you’re entirely vulnerable before him, yet feel safe and comfortable because of how timid yet eager he appears to be.

He fumbles to follow your direction, quickly kicking off his briefs and positioning himself between your legs again, sitting on his knees.

Your eyes don’t leave his exposed cock. Thick and heavy. He truly wasn’t lying about that at least, and you can imagine that regardless of how shy he is, he definitely could make good on his word with a cock like that.

“Oh, fuck.” You comment, lifting on your elbows and sitting up. Your face is now mere inches from his, but your eyes continue to stare down.

He puts a hand over himself shyly, wondering if maybe you’re not impressed, maybe he’s a complete fraud.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, leaning a bit back and away from you.

“Disappointed?” You laugh, looking back up at him and instantly grabbing his face, staring directly into his eyes. “Jake, you’re bigger than what you described it as.”

He smiles a bit, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside as you look at him. His confidence bubbles up, giving him every ability in the world at this moment, and what does he do with it? He looks between the two of you as he drops his cock and watches it land between your legs, and then he looks back at you before dipping in for a much less timid kiss.

Feeling his cock rest between your legs is one thing, but feeling how his tongue kisses into your mouth at a more eager pace than before is an entirely different thing. You’re loving it, despite the turn of events with him.

“Not so shy now, hm?” You laugh, tilting your head before dipping back in to kiss him only to be met with a sigh of chuckles from him.

“If you keep complimenting me, maybe someday I can live up to all those promises,” He says, putting a hand at the nape of your neck and laying you back down. “Then again, I don’t expect to last nearly as long with how wet you seem to have gotten.”

You hum against his words, hands reaching between your body and his to grab his length and hold it, just to feel the weight, just to see how much of it you can fit into one hand…just to see if–

He groans at the first touch, his body shivering against yours as he trails his lips down again, landing against your neck with a small pant when his hips buck into your palm.

“I can’t believe that this whole time, this is how you react to having your dick touched.”

He says nothing and instead, continues to fall into the feeling of the short tugs against his cock, barely stimulating his entire length but still feeling like it’s enough to keep him pleased for the time being.

“Wanna, maybe, I don’t know–” You playfully start, tugging his cock a bit harder this time after collecting some of the pre-cum from the head, “Touch me too?”

Say no more, Jake’s fingers are instantly at your entrance as soon as you say it, sliding in so easily that it nearly makes you forget that you even told him to do it. His fingers are slender, and each joint on the digits are felt against your aching and gripping walls.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” he coos, bottoming his two fingers out before gently beginning to thrust them in. “Were you like this when we texted too?”

“Wetter.” You lie, mostly because you were extremely wet from his texts but this…this is entirely different. You’re far more wet.

“Oh?” Jake asks, looking slightly disappointed but you can feel the way he changes how he moves his fingers. He also stops rutting against your hand, as if to put all of his focus on making you as wet as possible.

You moan for him at the feeling, his fingers tickling a spot inside of you that always has you seeing stars. Part of you wonders if he even knows he’s doing it, but you don’t press him, instead, you reward him with a tighter grip, pumping his cock until you can feel more beads of pre-cum slathering your fingertips.

“You need to be more confident, fuck–” You call out in a half moan, unprepared for the Jake that showed up but completely prepared to praise the hell out of what he’s doing. “This alone could have anyone on their knees.”

He smiles, furrowing his brow as he looks up at you, fingers picking up pace and starting to scissor you open.

“Can I taste you?” He asks out of fucking nowhere, and god.

“Jesus, Yes.” You groan, feeling him pound his fingers into you three more times before sliding out and pulling away from you.

You close your eyes, anticipating what it must be like to have him eat your pussy, and fuck, he wasn’t lying about that either. You remember that text from him, when he said “i’ll lick up every inch of your pussy babe, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

The fact that you didn’t ask him to do it. The fact that he’s down there right now, already spreading you open on his tongue and licking every sensitive dip and corner he can reach. You’re just more and more pleased with this shy man that showed up on your doorstep.

His tongue is warm and firm no matter where he licks, and only softens up when he goes to lick a flat stripe up your slit, essentially sucking up all of the wet you’re offering him and savoring it through whimpered groans at the way your legs attempt to squeeze around his head.

He knew you’d taste good but this is on a whole other level. He can’t help it when he grips your thighs and spreads your legs out further, and he certainly can’t help himself when he prods his tongue into you, trying to taste more of what you have to offer.

You can feel his tongue dipping in, and the way he grips your thighs renders you nearly useless if you were to try and wiggle away, not that you’d ever want to but it almost tickles with how good it feels. Your legs begin to shake in his grasp, and he only spreads them further at that, tilting his head at an angle to lick into you even deeper.

“Holy shit,” You sigh out, reaching down frantically to hold his head in place so that you can grind your hips forward against his stiffened tongue.

He’s nearly going insane the moment you do that, riding his tongue and gripping his hair so harshly. If he could die like this, it would only be a dream.

Jake hums into you with his lips curling up at each drag of your hips, each taste of your walls, up until you’re grinding so aggressively that his tongue is back to hitting your clit for a split second before dipping in. He lets you do it, loving the way you use his face like a toy but, he’s starting to feel desperate for you.

In this position with his arms hugging your thighs and back arched as he dips down to lick you, his cock is fucking aching and all he can do is fuck forward. There is nothing for him to pleasure himself with, but this suffices for him as the act of humping forward alone is enough to satiate his intense need to fuck something right now.

Like a dog, humping just to release his intense arousal as he holds onto you. He should be embarrassed, but he knows you can’t see him do it. Especially when he flicks his eyes up and sees your tits jiggling with each move of your hips. Especially when you open your own eyes and they land only on his face. He’d like to think he’s doing a hell of a job right now, especially with how no matter how much he licks, you continue to drip for him.

As you continue to ride yourself against his face, you suddenly feel his fingers squeezing against your thighs and his head abandon where you guide him. Wanting to taste you still, he neglects your riding hips and plants his lips at your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue until your grip in his hair grows more and more painful and you pull him back to look at him.

His eyes are dazed and his lips are glistening in a swollen and cheeky little smile. He stares back at you, licking his puffy bottom lip before letting his eyes roll at the feeling of that grip you have in your hair.

“Fuck, you’re loving this aren’t you?” You ask, now trailing your eyes down to his body and noting the way he’s desperately chasing nothing with his cock. You know he wants it, and god, are you going to let him have it.

He grins when you ask him, and he nods proudly at how your arousal coats his mouth and chin. He can smell the entirety of you on his face and it truly does feel amazing to him. Like he’s spiraling into a world of bliss simply for getting to lick your pussy.

You can barely contain yourself as you watch him. It’s like you’ve lost him completely from reality with the way he’s smiling, and the way his eyes remain drowsy and hooded. You could argue that the man acts cross-faded, but the fact that he acts like this over your pussy?

“I bet if I asked you to fuck me right now, you’d beg like a little puppy, wouldn’t you?”

His groan is long and drawn out with his slow nod, his hips fucking forward instinctively when his eyes trail down and sees that your pussy is practically pulsing.

“Do you want me to beg?” He says in a shaky voice, his chest heaving as his grip on your thighs grow tighter and you drag him back up to your face.

There, the two of you look at each other for a brief moment before you feel him fuck forward again, sliding his cock against your drenched core and letting out another pained whimper.

“You’re so wet, please.” He cries against your lips as he drops his face lower.

Your arms shoot around him, feeling his back muscles tense with each intentional thrust against you. The weight of his cock is sliding consistently up and down your pussy, bumping your clit and overstimulating it to the point that all you’d need to do is tense your muscles and you’d be releasing.

He said please, and you can argue that he’d probably do a flip if you so much as asked him to right now. As much as you wanted to choke on his dick, at this point you’d rather feel what it’s like to have him losing control inside of you. You want to know how he uses it, and you’re already well aware that he very well may make you lose grasp on reality.

Even now, you can feel his slack lips moving up and down against your own as he continues to hump against you. You can feel his breath on your tongue when you try to see if he’s too lost to even kiss you. And that, he was.

“Go on,” You encourage him, running one hand down his arm and the other up to his hair to grip it again. There, you pull his head back, watching his neck crane and eyebrows furrow in a wince at the feeling. “Fuck me then.”

His unintentional moan comes out strained with the way you have his head pulled back, but he moves one arm to one side of your head and the other straight to his cock, where all he needs to do is press it down and hold it there. As he continues fucking against you, that small motion lets him slide in with ease.

You can feel his arm beside your head shake at the feeling of his length spreading you open. You can see the way he swallows thickly at the feeling, moaning out and staring at your ceiling as he feels your walls slowly hug his entire length.

He enters you slowly so that he can feel his sock squeeze your wet out of you, feeling it run down his balls. He shivers at the feeling and the sound of it, and you shiver at how deep he manages to slide in.

It’s so deep. His thick cock aches inside of you and with the way your walls squeeze him, and even when he tightly fucks forward once again once he’s already bottomed out, he manages to fill you just just that much more.

You groan out, releasing his hair from your shaking fingers and feeling his lips immediately kiss against your jaw and neck.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whimpers, relieving you of an inch of him before sliding back in slowly. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” He continues, moving a hand down to your thigh and swirling his fingertips there to try and calm your shaking legs.

You can’t really comprehend anything other than the fact that this man is so fucking hot, and the way he slowly moves his hips just to feel each and every clench of your pussy has you seeing stars. You feel like he’s filled you up beyond belief, and each thrust somehow makes his cock feel heavier, bigger.

Even as he babbles against your neck, his other hand falls to your tit and he can’t help but mindlessly play with it as he begins to actually fall into a rhythm. You’re still rendered completely speechless as you focus on every single touch he gives to you.

Those gentle, soothing circles of his fingertips on your leg, the other hand harshly pinching your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body, his cock being driven in, somehow, deeper and deeper as he continuously manages to hit your g-spot and– god, the way his lips slowly trail down to your other tit, biting you there.

“So tight, so good.” He babbles on, slamming his cock into you once before lifting from your breast to see your reaction.

When he looks up at you, a permanent shit-eating grin is planted on his face with the way you roll your eyes back in a silent moan. Perhaps he wasn’t so much of a liar in those texts. Seeing you react this way has his confidence skyrocketing as he continues to keep that pace. The sound of your pussy being pounded and dripping all over him. He can’t even believe how wet you are, how tight you are still.

He stays like this, staring at each reaction and silent moan as he focuses solely on fucking you as hard and deep as possible. He may not be fast, but he’s making sure you can feel every goddamn inch he has to offer, and it appears that you’re relishing in it.

Those silent moans you try to release always end in a small hiccup each time his hips meet your inner thighs, and it’s not long before you’re losing grasp all together. You shoot your hands to his arms, gripping his biceps as your only link to reality as you feel him continuously bump the back of your pussy in an immaculate show of how well he knows how to fuck.

“Jake,” You hiccup out, gripping his biceps harder as you clench around him.

Still, his cock drags through your attempts of speaking, and he continues to stare at you with a grin before hovering his lips over yours.

“What is it?” He whispers in a shaky breath, sucking in his bottom lip and only now picking up the pace so that he can render you speechless again.

You can feel his lips ghosting over yours, and you really thought you had something to say but the only thing that comes out is a sobbed out moan. You throw your legs around his waist now, moving your own hips to meet his and that alone has him spiraling again.

“Yeah,” He chuckles, dipping his head to your neck and resting it there, “Fuck me,” he whimpers this time, stilling his hips to feel the way you slide him in and out of you.

Still, your strength amazes him. He thought he had control for a few minutes there and yet here he is, acting much like you are with his trembling hands and trembling thoughts.

You continue to work your hips from under him, and you don’t even know when he stopped playing with your nipple but it doesn’t entirely matter. Not now, not when you need more of him.

He’s thrown off when you grab his hair again, and he still loves it as much as he did the first two times you did it to him. Then, he can hear your raspy voice whisper out to him as you drag his face, once again, to yours.

“Lay back.”

That’s all you had to say to have him immediately listening and maneuvering his body in a way that keeps his cock buried deep but still managing to throw himself back on the bed for you to take full control.

Now, he looks up at you and the way your darkened eyes devour him. He’s so fucking turned on right now that he thinks he might cry, especially with the way your knees hug his hips as you immediately start fucking yourself on him.

He’s in awe, hands reaching behind you to grab at your ass and spread it as you bounce on him. Each time you sit yourself down, it’s like you’re being impaled in the most pleasurable way possible. The way he keeps eye contact with you is intense and dangerously intimate, but you can’t bring yourself to look away either.

That smile forms back on his lips as you pick up your pace, and through that smile are moans so erotic you can feel your pussy drench him over and over again each time he does it. Never, have you had sex so fucking good in your life and it’s making you feel almost helpless as you work yourself up to an orgasm.

He still watches you though, before flicking his eyes down and taking in the image of your bouncing tits. He’s quick to remove his hands from your ass to fondle them before sitting himself up aggressively and sucking one into his mouth.

You moan out at that, stilling your bouncing as you opt now to sit with his cock entirely inside of you. You swirl your hips and plant your fingers in his hair, hugging his head as he sucks and bites a swollen spot against your chest before he holds you in an even tighter hug.

“I’m so, so close.” He says in a broken sigh, trying to move his hips up under your weight and failing to do it. You listen to his cries though, and resume your bouncing even through his harsh and suffocating hug.

“Yeah?” You ask, bouncing once, swirling your hips, and then pressing your weight on him to have him falling back into his rightful spot against your bed.

His grip around you remains, dragging you down with him as he breathes himself through the pleasure and babbles out strings of curses when you manage to still work your hips on him even though he’s gripping onto you for dear life.

“Gonna let me feel it?” You ask again, this time more playfully as you intentionally press your clit against his pelvis each time you slide him into you.

He nods brokenly, squeezing his eyes shut and loosening his grip on you, letting you break free and ultimately, intentionally fuck him until he’s pumping you full of everything he has to offer.

You watch as he lies there, seemingly lost again in the bliss of your pussy clenching around him. He barely notices your fingers circling your clit, and is shocked to realize that you’re releasing before him, despite how close he is.

He can feel your walls massage his aching cock as you begin to let out strained moans. He knows you’re coming the second he feels how tight you’re clenching, sucking his cock so deeply inside of you that he has no choice but to release.

He fucks into you as best he can at this moment, only stopping when he feels the first release inside of you, and there, he tenses his muscles and allows his stiffened length to nearly tear you in half as you continue to work through your own pleasure.

You can barely open your eyes to see his face, and the way his jaw is slack and his eyes are very nearly crossing before squeezing them shut. God, that alone could have made your orgasm last another ten seconds.

By the time you’re done, he’s still releasing somehow. The sheer amount of cum he’s spilling into you is arguably more than you’ve ever felt, and he trembles through it with whimpered apologies, begging you to stay on him, apologizing with a small “ fuck, wait, I’m still coming–”

And you do, especially through his shaking whisper of “please, take all of it.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s back to his timid self just an hour later, lying on your bed wondering when you’re going to tell him to leave. Wondering if you like him enough to let him do this again with you, hoping you don’t erase his number.

He’s pleased to know though that, you not only ask him to sleep over but you also make it your mission to go down on him the moment he wakes up next to you. Reminding him that even if he was different upon coming over, he still fucked you better than he ever promised.

You’d be stupid not to choke on it for him.

#sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #sim jake smut

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 🍒

Sometimes love doesn't make sense.

Tags/Warnings: Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook, Pastel!Reader, opposites attract, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, suggestive flirting, adult themes but no smut, consensual hand holding

Length: ~4k

There is no taglist for this fic.

Masterlist

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"Uhm-" you wonder, stepping inside the store to be greeted by the guy you know as Jimin.

"Hi, my friend has an appointment?" you say, and the artist stands up and walks closer. Your friend stays close to you, buzzing with the excitement of getting her first tattoo ever- too shy to say anything.

When it comes to that, you're a little ahead of her. As long as the person isn't intimidating, you're fine talking to them, asking for help or anything alike.

"Yeah, it was the dragon on her back, right?" and your friend nods. "I've got it all prepared already. Wanna come downstairs with me, I'll explain the rest of it there?" Jimin kindly says, taking her coat and leading her downstairs where you assume everyone works. "Oh, you can just wait in the back there, or stroll around town. It'll take a while." he says, and you nod, a bit unsure now after being left alone.

"Hm?" a voice chimes up, before he speaks again. "Oh, Thought I heard something." the guy comes into view, and suddenly you can't talk.

This is what you can't talk to.

Intimidating? Heavy boots and black clothes, silver chains and piercings and a fully inked sleeve including his hand present themselves to you, muscles free since he's only wearing a black sleeveless top that should be illegal for him to wear. His smile is the friendliest you've ever seen, reaching his eyes and his slightly wild hair just makes him look even better, sides buzzed down to mere millimeters left- you want to disappear from the earth and his memory forever.

Fuck. He's looking like every goth-girl's wet dream while you're dressed in a pastel colored dress and thick knee high socks to keep your feet warm in this cold weather. Great.

"You can sit here in the back with me, otherwise you'll catch a cold from all the cold air blowing in every time the door opens." he recommends, pointing to a couch in a corner that you assume is where they all spend their breaks. Awesome, he's a gentleman as well it seems, making it all even worse for you. "You want something to drink? I've got tea or coffee." he wonders, and you meekly press out a 'tea, please.', making him chuckle.

He probably thinks you're nothing more than a child, with the way you look so out of place.

You envy your friend in that department. She's got piercings, she knows cool friends, she has exciting stories to tell. Meanwhile you sit at home and knit sweaters and blankets, help out at the local animal shelter because you get to pet the cats and dogs all day, or work at the library where you aid tourists find the town's guide.

"Your friend was the tall girl, right?" he asks, coming in with two cups, one of which he sets down on front of you. "I'm Jungkook by the way." he introduces himself, smiling before he leans back in his seat. Of course he's interested in her, you think. She's exactly his type, though he looks quite a few years older than her.

Well- the least you can do is help her find a date.

"Ah, yeah, she's my friend. Best friend." you say, pulling the cup of tea closer. "Thank you, for the tea." you say politely, and he grins in front of you.

"No problem." he waves off.

"She's uh.. She works at a car-uh.. She does those paint jobs. Like, those complicated one's that look realistic and all that." you try and explain. "I.. Forgot what it's called though. But uhm.. You can ask her later maybe?" you say, and he shrugs, setting down his cup before he smirks impishly, tongue playing with his lip ring in a manner that you can only describe as illegal.

"I probably could do that-" he starts, before he tilts his head a little to the side, body leaning forward. "-but I'd rather get to know you a little more." he wonders, and you almost choke on your tea- but you're composing yourself. "Maybe I could start by asking if you've got a boyfriend?"

Well, so much for composing yourself.

Your wide eyes look at him scandalized, and he giggles at the sight of it. "I- uh, no, I mean no I don't have one, to be honest-" you laugh a bit nervously. "-guys don't.. I- most guys don't really look my way, you know. So I thought, you know, considering-" you motion up and down towards him, "-you'd be more interested in my friend." you ramble, and he just shakes his head, smiling.

"I mean, she seems nice- but, I don't know either." he shrugs. "Something about you- it's hard to explain."

You shift a little on the spot now, unsure what to do in a situation like this. Typically, you shut down guys quickly, scared of what's to come. But you also don't want to keep doing exactly that- not when you've got the chance of something right in front of you like that. For the first time, someone's actively interested in you. Someone who seems nice, that is.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, by the way." Jungkook suddenly rips out of your thoughts. He leans back again, giving you space, and it makes you feel a little deflated. Did you blow it already? Oh god you screwed it over, didn't you?

"No, you're not, don't worry." you say, looking down. "I just.. I'm not used to this. I'm usually always the wingman instead- or.. Wing-woman?" you think, and he laughs.

"Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." he says, still friendly. "So, I'm wondering- any tattoos? Piercings?" he wonders, and you nod- instantly making his eyes sparkle in interest. "Oh- can I ask what it is, or do you want to let me find out later?" he says, and you instantly turn red, making him laugh. "Sorry, sorry- I'll stop, promise." he waves off. "..for now."

You laugh at his antics, unable to keep a straight face by now. "You seem like you know your way around with girls." you say without thinking, before you hurriedly correct yourself. "I-I mean I don't mean that your like, a fuckboy or something or- maybe you are that's fine too! I don't judge but- oh god.." you put your head in your hand. "You know what? I'll just wait here for her, I'm so sorry." you mumble more or less.

But much to your surprise, he simply laughs, head thrown back for a second before he grins at you, front teeth slightly protruding, giving him a bunny smile.

"You're so cute, I swear." he says, shaking his head. "I- is it okay if I ask for your number?" he wonders, and you look at him for a good moment, squinting your eyes as if you test to see if he's serious.

"I.. Sure..?" you say, pulling out your phone with all the different charms attached. He grins and shakes his head amused, though clearly excited as you type in your number into his phone before calling yourself to make sure it's correct.

"So!" he grins. "Since your friend is gonna still be out of order for a good four hours downstairs," Jungkook stands up to hold out his hand. "You up for some boba for our first date?" he asks, looking down at you even though you're standing as well by now.

And you nod, walking next to him through the slight October fog outside in town, his hand warming up yours.

You don't even realize how.. easy it feels, right away. His hand holding yours is not demanding, giving you the option to let go at any point, but you don't mind holding it. It's warm, comfortable, and it also makes you wonder if that's something he enjoys. Did he date a lot already? He certainly looks like he got the choice, girls probably falling for him fairly easily.

Well.. you're already trusting him too. How ironic.

"Just tell me which one you want, I'll go order." he says later, holding out a hand in case you lose balance as you clean off the rain from your boots as to not bring it all into the small store. "I'll pay too by the way, no but's!" he grins, while you look up at him with a pleading look.

"No, I'll give you the money back for mine." you say.

"But then it's not a date!" he argues back, a whine in his voice as if to mock the way you just spoke to him. "then it's just- two people getting a drink at the same time."

"what's so bad about that?" you laugh, crossing your arms without thinking- an action he playfully copies, pushing out his chest, fabric of his jacket stretching over his biceps.

"That it's not a date!" he says, before laughing as he relaxes, talking more quietly now with a lower, more serious tone. "Alright, in all seriousness though, I'd still like to pay even if there's no date." he tells you.

"I- no, a date is fine, it can be a date.." you say. "I just don't want to.. Come off as a leech for taking your money if you end up not liking me-" you ramble, and he smiles warmly, holding your shoulders before his warm palms touch your cheeks for a second.

"You're overthinking too much." he giggles, before letting go of you. "right now, I like you very much. And even if we don't end up working out, I'm not that kind of guy to go around and talk shit about people." he shrugs.

You sigh at that, before pointing towards an item on the menu. "..can you- I don't like that much ice in mine.?" you say, and he nods, before walking towards the worker to order.

He's oddly okay with you, you've noticed.

Normally, people and especially guys get frustrated easily due to the fact that you've got trouble deciding things, or that you don't like ordering, or that you quickly feel bad because your brain thinks the worst about every single word that's said to you. But he seems nice enough, doesn't come off as annoyed or anything. Despite his way of talking and his outer appearance, Jungkook feels nice to have around.

You wonder how a guy like him can be single.

Or maybe he isnt? Maybe he's into the BDSM scene, a swinger, or in an open relationship, and he just want to offer you a threesome? He looks like he might be into that stuff, like a dominant guy that enjoys taking control over his partner in the bedroom. Does he tie people up? You've seen stuff like that before, and it's not something you'd be opposed to if he'd be the one to-

Wow, alright, exit was three miles ago.

"Everything alright?" he chuckles, snapping you out of your thoughts, amusing him as he notices the way you turn red. "Been staring at my ass? Can't blame you, honestly." he jokes, making you hit his shoulder playfully before you take your plastic cup from him. "Hey, this might sound super shady and you don't have to say yes-" he starts, stepping out the small store with you where it had started to snow again. "-but I've got my apartment a few minutes from here, and it's freezing cold, so-" he takes your hand and looks down at you. "-you wanna go to my place?"

You're nervous now, more than ever. Thoughts are entertaining, they're safe and most of all yours and not real, but the prospect of potentially going into an apartment you don't know, with a guy you don't know, is scary. What if he's actually a serial killer, or really into BDSM and you'll get involved in some shady fifty shades stuff-

"-you really don't have to say yes. We can just go back to the Tattoo shop and talk there, I don't mind." he reassures, and you still don't answer. "What's worrying you? Maybe I can help."

"I-" you start, unsure, and fingers already hurting from the cold cup as you both walk outside the small store, walking side by side. You enjoy this a bit more- without holding his hand, you feel safer having a discussion like that. "-you know, guys only take girls to their place for.. Stuff, and I'm not like that, but I also kind of want to be but at the same time it's scary-"

"Hey, no, I'm not out for blood if you mean that." he chuckles, holding out his arm to make sure you wait until a car has passed the road you're both trying to cross. "Like, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never had one-night-stands or quickies or whatever, but right now I'm interested in you, first and foremost." he explains, his rather blunt words causing an elderly lady to turn her head scandalized as she walks past. "Also, I'm into begging. I'll only fuck you if you ask nicely." he smirks down at you next to him, before laughing out loud at your wide eyes and red ears.

"I-" you struggle to form words. But you're also horribly cold. "Alright then. I mean not the fucking part, at least not right now maybe sometime in the fut- where was your apartment again?" you stutter, and he grins so hard his eyes almost close.

"You're so fucking cute, my god." he shakes his head, before taking your hand again. "It's right down this road." he simply tells you, before you both find yourself in front of an apartment building where he takes you upstairs to his door. "Ah, I didn't clean up, by the way. It's a bit chaotic." he sheepishly offers, before the door opens.

It's warm, inviting. Doesn't smell bad, and it's not as chaotic as he told you it would be, Jungkook walking inside before you walk around, inspecting the apartment.

"I've put your boots in my shower, in case you're wondering where they are." he says after emerging from his bathroom, opening a window a little to air out the apartment. "make yourself at home, don't be so stiff." he chuckles, smiling when you visibly relax.

He sits close to you on the couch, but keeps a respectful distance between the two of you. He watches as you inspect a hole in a blanket he's got on the couch, shrugging. "My friend has a dog. Small little shit tore a hole in there, but it's still good so I keep the blanket."

"It's an easy fix." you say. "If you take those two parts of the yarn and then those, you can just tie them together so it doesn't rip open any further." you explain, and he tilts his head a little.

"Oh? Do you knit?" he wonders, and you nod.

"I.. My hobbies are kind of lame. I knit, and I help at the shelter a little away from the town. Other than that, I just.. Kind of exist in my apartment." you tell him. "I work at a library near the main train station. So, I'm not really interesting." you say, while he shakes his head.

"Don't say that. I think that's all pretty cool." he reassures. "Sounds like you've made a cozy life for yourself. That's pretty impressive considering today's times." he says. "I've always been.. Unsatisfied. With almost everything." he shrugs, leaning back, socked feet resting on the edge of his couch you're both sitting on.

"How so?" you wonder, taking a sip from your drink, before putting it back onto the small table.

"I don't know." he explains vaguely. "I guess I always had way too big dreams and aspirations. And now that I'm at that age I back then wanted to be, I feel like I wasted all my time with nothing but short-lived successes and people who only wanted me for the moment."

"Kind of.. Reminds me of myself." you giggle. "I.. When I was young, even a teenager, I always said I won't have kids. But these days, I kind of think, in the future I want them. Not right now, but one day. I wanna have a family and stuff, live in a house and have a dog and a cat and a husband and all that." you giggle. "like I said, not right now- but in the future."

"Hmhm. I never wanted to marry either. Thought that's just bullshit." he says. "But now, after seeing some of my friends have that, I'm envious. I want that too. A partner for life, I mean. A boring life." he says.

You hum a reply, nodding to yourself, a bit of quietness falling over the both of you, before he moves again, sitting down more comfortably turned towards you.

"I.. Would really like to get to know you. Seriously, I mean." he starts explaining. "Like I said, I.. Don't know what it is exactly, but you're.. Fuck you make me all weird." he laughs. "I wanna stay in contact with you, if you'd like. We could watch a movie? Only Netflix, no deep-throating during commercial breaks, promise!" he jokes, before adding, "..except if you're up for it." he giggles when you hide your face for a good second, laughing.

"I don't even know how to do that!" you laugh, making him raise his eyebrows while playing with his lip ring.

"Oh I can teach you, don't worry about that." he teases.

"I'm sure you can.." you mumble more or less, sipping on your drink. But your sentence seems to make him curious, eyes gaining a challenging glimmer as he leans forward.

"No no no, let's rewind a bit there." he says. "Just so I know where I'm at. You a virgin?" he wonders, and you pull your legs closer to yourself.

"..no." you shrug. "But.. I highly doubt I'm as adventurous as you." you tell him, making Jungkook smirk a little, as if challenged.

"Are you? What do you think I'm into then?" he wonders. "I've got a feeling you've made up your mind about me more than I thought."

"I mean, I don't know?" you say. "You.. It's not that hard to have more experience than me. I only had sex like.. Twice, and it's honestly not really for me." you shrug. "it's weird to.. Ugh I don't know."

"No, you do know, you just don't want to say it out loud." he clears up for you, making you nod. "Did you ever have an orgasm?"

"Jungkook!" you bark out scandalized, making him raise his hands in playful defense.

"What? You gotta ask these days, men are shit in bed most of the time, I have to admit that!" he laughs, shamelessly talking about this as if it's nothing but the weather outside. "So? Did you?" he wonders, and you shrug. "So you didn't?"

"I- don't know!" you say, a little glad you can finally talk to someone about it, hesitation finally breaking as you get the chance to make your frustration some room. "It's different when I do it myself. Like, then I'm pretty sure I have one? But when I had sex it was different, like I was almost kind of there but also not.." you lean your head on the backrest of his couch.

"Sounds like you didn't then." he tells you. "See, there's women out there who can't cum from penetration at all. The key ingredient is being fucking attentive." he explains. "I got more than just my dick, is what I'm trying to tell." he says, wiggling his fingers in front of his face, several rings adoring some of them- and you laugh.

"You sound like you're trying to get me to have sex with you right now." you joke, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking against his cheek for a moment.

"I'd fuck you any day you'd let me." he simply answers, eyes on yours. "After all, I gotta check out those tattoos you said you have." he flirts, and you move around a little, air between you both getting thicker. At this point, you can't deny the attraction. And with the way he talks and treats you, you're sure you'd let him prove his point as well. Right now. No regrets.

He notices the way your eyes fall to his lips, getting attached at the silver piercings there for a good moment, before you find his warm eyes again. And even though he really did not intent to be so forward so fast, he still scoots closer, tests the waters, places his arms on either side of you before the tip of his nose almost touches yours.

"Been wondering for a while now.." he starts, licking his lips before he looks down to yours, face tilting a bit as he looks at you. "..what flavor that lipgloss might be." he jokes, before he can't help himself.

You've not been kissed often in your life, not even in relationships. But you know for a fact that there's no experience comparable to the way he kisses you- not only his lips, but also his hands craving you it seems, making you feel completely under his spell. He's not just kissing you with his lips. He's using his hands, his tongue, knows clearly how to create a moment.

Your phone rings.

His rings soon after.

He laughs- and so do you.

It's a little awkward for a second, before he sends a message informing his coworker that you're on your way back, his grin still evident, never vanishing it seems. "so..?" you wonder having stood up to go grab your coat.

"So?" he parrots back, standing up as well to walk closer to you.

"What flavor is it?" you shyly try and flirt, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you again, just a peck, and another, and just one last one before he parts with laughter.

"I'd say cherry-" he grins, watching you tie your boots in his hallway before he cages you in at his front door again the second you stand back up, unable to resist you now that you gave him the chance to taste you.

"But let me make sure I got it right."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic

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holycryptid · 2 months

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low honour!arthur morgan x virgin!reader

this is really just one long-winded fic idea that i need to speak into existence.

tags: literally save a horse ride a cowboy, afab!reader (feminine pronouns, descriptions, and names used), religious topics/imagery, obsessive!arthur, virginity kink, age gap relationship, loss of virginity, corruption kink

Reader is in her early 20s, privileged to come from a family with wealth from their heritage and inheritance in the oil industry.

The era of cowboys and outlaws has started to become a thing of the past from the shifts in climate and industry throughout the country. Reader has resided in Saint Denis her whole life, never needing to worry about gangs, outlaws, or even cowboys.

She has never even seen a cowboy before, but she’s heard stories; none of them particularly pretty. The presence of law enforcement throughout the streets and the sheer distance of Saint Denis from other towns is enough to deter most of them from causing trouble.

Functionally, she should never be compatible with a cowboy.

Her father has always preached about her waiting for a “good, proper man” that can marry her into another family with obscene wealth. And so, she protects her chastity and innocence just as she is expected to—just as her father expects her to.

Hell, she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse! Her father believes that riding horses is beneath them, so anywhere she wants to go is accommodated by a stagecoach.

Cut to: reader is accompanying her father on a trip to Annesburg to discuss potential investments in the mining industry. He hates leaving her alone. She knows he worries that she’ll get “up to no good”.

Her father has chosen one of their more comfortable, flashy stagecoaches for the longer ride, giving him more storage for his financial documents and whatnot. A perfect target for gangs.

And, inevitably, they get robbed.

The robbers’ faces are all concealed by hats and bandanas, and one of them ties her arms behind her back with careful hands before guiding her to her knees on the wet grass.

The man who tied her up stays close by her side, and she can see her father pleading for his life to another man who’s not listening.

“Are you a cowboy?” Are the first words she says to him, not a note of fear in her doll-like eyes that make her look so fuckable in this position with her on her knees next to him, dress billowing out around her form.

He looks down at her confused. “Uh, once, I suppose.” His voice is a little muffled by the black bandana hanging over his nose and mouth.

She can see that his hair is so long that it starts to curl up and out at the ends under his hat.

“Well, you got the hat. And the horse,” she reasons, wondering if she’s truly meeting a cowboy under circumstances she thought she’d never be in.

He looks to her again, left hand causally hooked in the leather of his belt as he waits for the rest of his gang to finish up. “I guess you’re right.” He tips his head to her in agreement.

“Leave them! These people are leeches. Let the wolves decide their fate.” A man with a deep, booming voice announces atop his white horse.

Now she starts to panic.

She pulls against the rope around her wrists, looking up to the man who tied her as he begins to walk toward his horse. “Wait! Mister, please! Please don’t. Please,” she yells to him.

He looks back to her, then his horse, then back to her again. “Hold on.” He signals to the man on the white horse before walking back over to her.

“Take me home. Please just take me home, mister. I won’t say nothing, I promise, but just take me home and I’ll give you anything you want,” she begs to him.

He sighs, but not out of annoyance or hesitation for her request. He sighs because he has no idea what she has just done to herself.

He places his bandana over her eyes and leads her to his horse. He unties her hands and lets her blindly climb into the saddle, legs shaking from unfamiliarity.

When she settles, she blindly grips onto the saddle horn for dear life, wishing her father let her ride at least once in her life so she wouldn’t appear so delicate in this situation. The man chuckles off to the side before mounting up behind her. She notices the saddle is not quite meant for two as he pushes in tightly against her ass, seemingly not even concerned about it.

This is probably the closest she’s ever been to a man.

“Where to, miss?” The man leans forward against her back to grab the reigns, caging her in with his arms.

She tells him in a quiet voice, and he kicks against his horse, setting them into motion.

When they arrive at her French two-story home on the outskirts of Saint Denis, the man dismounts swiftly, hand circling her wrist before saying, “Swing your right leg over and I’ll help you down.”

She slowly brings herself around, feeling the man lock his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground.

He tugs at the knot holding the bandana around her eyes, and she doesn’t let herself turn around until she feels he’s had enough time to tie it back around his face.

“Thank you, mister,” she whispers.

He tips his hat and leaves without another word.

In the following week, the man watches her after the sun sets. He watches her pray before bed and change into her silk nightgown, waiting for the night he can maybe finally see the more explicit side of her. But it never comes.

She’s perfect.

Eventually they cross paths again one day. The man purposefully chooses to ditch the bandana, too.

“I don’t think my daddy would appreciate me talking to someone like you,” she admits slyly as she continues her trek into Saint Denis.

The man follows beside her on his horse, left arm lazily hanging down by his side. “Someone like me? And who’s that?” he asks, a slight smile also on his lips.

“A cowboy. An outlaw,” she says, sneaking a glance up to him as his horse steps in time with her down the path.

“Well your daddy ain’t here.”

“No, mister.”

“Come for a ride then.”

And that’s how it’s starts for them. He introduces himself as they ride to his gangs camp, and she complains about how sore her legs are when they arrive.

“You don’t ride?” Arthur asks, intending for it to be a joke.

“That was my second time. Ever,” she laughs.

And that’s when he understands what type of lady he’s dealing with, so he goes for it.

“Maybe you should practice on me sometime,” he remarks, untacking his horse.

She wonders if she heard him right. “Uh, mister—”

“Arthur,” he corrects.

In that moment, she realizes he can teach her everything her father has kept from her, show her everything he had protected her from. Throw away the innocence and chastity and truly experience what life should be. But Arthur doesn’t know the entirety of her sheltered life. She needs someone like him.

“Arthur…I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” she admits. “I…I’ve never been with no one. Ever.”

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just as my daddy said I should be. Until marriage.”

And Arthur makes it his mission to make her experience her own sexuality in its completeness, so he starts off slow.

He would always touch, never breaching her or letting her do anything to him. The focus was always on her.

Her virginity and pureness made him conflicted: he wanted to ruin her in all the ways she has never been, but he wants to tease and rile her up and watch her experience all the sexual frustrations for the first time.

It was cute. The more bold he got with his touches, the more bold she got in trying to take what she wanted. He would take her behind a tree and slowly lift up the dainty material of her summer dress, gathering it in his left hand as he used his right to rub her clit through her underwear while he licked and sucked along her neck, careful not to leave marks.

She would get weak so fast, Arthur could barely handle how virgin her body truly was. She would grip onto the leather straps of the rifles hanging down his back, trying to force his hand harder and faster.

However, the first time he made her cum was an accident.

He confidently placed a gentle kiss on her lips while they were alone in his tent—he just wanted to see how she would react.

She leaned in and returned it, snaking her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. He pulled her into his lap, laying them down on his cot as they started making out like a long-distance high-school couple.

Arthur mindlessly starts grinding against her, ignoring the clothing separating them. She doesn’t realize what she’s feeling as Arthur’s hard cock slides against her clothed pussy.

Her orgasm just kind of happens.

Arthur watches her shake and twitch under him as he pulls away to see what happened. The wet spot on her underwear is all the evidence he needs.

Ever since, she’s been insatiable. She wants Arthur to show her everything. Teach her everything. She wants to feel everything if that means she can cum like that again.

Around the campfire she’d sit on his lap, tightly circling her hips against him until he’d grow hard before stopping. Then she’d do it again.

Arthur would mostly ignore her teasing. He didn’t want her to know how much she was driving him up the wall, so he’d retaliate in a way that was ten times worse then whatever she did just to prove a point about her innocence, how she knows so little compared to him.

The first time they fuck, he makes the horse riding joke again: “I’m sure this’ll be good practice for you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a laugh, rubbing his cock through her folds as she straddles him. He’s built up her confidence so much, it’s all been leading to this.

He’d guide her up and down, back and forth, testing her body to see what she likes. Seeing what spot makes her tremble.

He finds it. “Fuck, there it is,” Arthur groans.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s doing everything her father told her not to.

Premarital sex.

Premarital sex with a cowboy.

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prays, her pussy sliding so perfectly along him as he grips her hips harder.

Eventually, he’d eat her out in her childhood bedroom. Her father sleeping in the room above her own, separated by the thin wood of the floor. She arches against the bed, and her eyes meet the iron cross hung above her bed frame.

She’d often ask him to leave the hat on, and he’d laugh, pleased that she is slowly adopting sexual preferences and interests.

She was his perfect, sophisticated woman that he was free to defile and poison with his desires.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption 2 fanfic

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astralnymphh · 8 months

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kneeling for her ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x fem!reader sucking her strap hcs/scenario! ༻ ☽𖤐☾

(ellie image from kittaeria on pinterest)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: had the most random scenario blossom in my head yesterday so i wrote it per usual, went a lil more risqué with this one 😜at least to my standards

cw/tags: NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! ellies a lil goofy in the beginning, blunt/straightforward-ish reader, not a fully wrote out fic, small time skips, sitting on lap, cursing, takes place in jackson but not specified to be before seattle (readers choice) soft-dom leaning ellie (except maybe less soft in one instance, nothing rough tho), guiding you verbally and with hands, praises, petnames; (good girl, baby, slut) sucking/choking on strap, clit stim (giving) strap-vag insertion, flatiron position, rewarding, gripping head/hair, deepthroating.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

setting the scene

༻⛧one dusty orange sunset, cooped up in ellie's makeshift 'garage house' relishing a simple meal she whipped up for the both of you, albeit can you really classify her attempts at the art of culinary as five-star cuisine? regardless, the two of you slumped into the gray sofas' sufficient padding and dined like kings; in apocalyptic standards. no conversation had been rustling the space between you until a rather, interesting, unordinary, dare say- scandalous? scenario had implanted its peculiar self into your thoughts.

"hey babe?" you quell the silence, tone arching in curiosity.

"mhm?" ellie garbled through shut lips, chowing down her food.

"you know.. we should- try something new-"

"ooh~ like what?" she instantaneously hunches her back closer to you and tosses her barren plate aside, avid to hear your words go from mind to mouth. she invariably dotes on your ideas.

"uh- it's like.. related to.. bed stuff."

"like sleepin- wait! can we pleaaasee build a display shelf for my comic books above my bed-"

"ellie."

"sorry." ellie, even being an adult, is still crazy about her long-kept hobbies.

"uh- anyways. I'm talking 'bout like.. sex." you impenitently tell.

her eyelids dim, sloping her head to the side in adorned interest, "sex? that's one way to ask."

"no ..seriously, I have an idea.." you stow the plate atop a stubby heap of books, conveying a genuineness in your stare.

ellie sails her tongue briskly through her lips, anchoring her torso back onto the sofas' arm, lengthening her legs out with a faint bend at the knees. her palm drops to her thigh, patting it twice.

"c'm over here." she coaxes sweetly with an alluring gaze, imbued with a pip of power in her vowels.

a suffuse of blush overlies your midface, crawling your body towards her beckon.

her hands steady your hips down on her lap, finding refuge on the back of your thighs thereupon settling.

"what's the idea, then?" the moods' been shifted, emanating one of sensuality.

you nestle near her headspace, whispering, "y'know ur' strap?"

"yeah.." ellie likes where this is leading, clearly by her rapt smirk and tune of chords rising in tempt.

"what if I sucked it?"

⛧ oh boy, that set off a night she wouldn't be forgetting for the inbound days ahead. immediately you found yourself levitating up from the couch by her arms and bouncing on the mattress. a makeout session leads to fated stripping and now, your kneeling in front of her at groin-level and a hunter green mass protruding towards your nose bridge.

her optics glare down at you, the sight of you so keen and willing to do this. sure, it's not the real thing but the sight should and will be fucking exhilarating.

"c'mon, what're you staring at?" ellie's hand gently smacks your cheek and splinters your blurry-minded trance.

you deduct a reply from your mouth, instead, taking a solid grasp of the strap and wrapping your lips round' the tip, all while preserving unwavering eye contact.

"shit.."

her hands ease and twine the locks on each margin of your head, massaging the pads of her fingertips tenderly. her arousals' climbing new peaks every second at this rate. she presses her pelvis further upon your lip, steering you to open up.

your lips part and welcome the rotund tip in, stroking along your front teeth. the weak grasp on your head pushes the strap languidly to a greater extent that bounds it to the back wall of your throat.

"ach-" you jab out a cough.

"good girl, take that shit in.."

⛧she's one to be in control, but it's nothing rough. her hands guiding you back n forth gently as the strap summons spurts of tickles in your throat each time it prods the back of it. it'd be far enough to chafe the hilt against her clit, per usual any time she wears the contraption, so you'd always hear quaint whimpers, curses, groans, etcetera, from above.

"mhh~ fuuhhhhckkkk.." ellie draws out a long euphoric groan, straining her neck back and exposing the mild protrusion of her adam's apple.

catching up with the motion, you begin bobbing your head on your own accord. her hands dull their hold and hover above, letting you work your utter sorcery, mouth wide open and drooling for her.

her head recoils down, "such a slut- oohh~ fuck.."

⛧again, she's not rough without consent and a special occasion, but she'll clutch your hair firmly enough. to you, it's like her non-verbal sign that says 'go faster'.

thrusting your head faster, her own moans begin to burgeon and crowd the room over your sucking and popping noises. she looks so fucking hot from your angle, a clement sweat, fucked out face, leaning slightly back so her pelvis projects closer to you, a solo hand supporting on the back of her thigh, the other latched onto the apex of your head and knotting strands of hair around her fingers. it's all getting to you.

"oh- baby, fuck- keep goin'n.. uhn- shit!" the climax augmenting within her hips jitters the shit out of her knees, begging to just buckle underneath her and collapse on the bed.

"gh- hn.." your words fumble around ellie's cock, still putting your all into pleasing her. adding a grip on the strap and stroking it was endgame for her, the adjoined knocking against her swelling bud ruined her.

⛧ellie's definitely more of a groaner and a huffer when she comes, it's not growling level but it's certainly not fake exaggerated ones.

⛧i think she's also the type who'd want you to come as well, like, there is not a single night where she's the only one getting pleased, she has to see you unravel and lose your shit under her.

"stop, baby- stop.." ellie hastily hushes through heaves of breath, pulling your head from the strap to which it springs off your lips.

"huh..?"

"m'not cummin' without you- fuck.." her fingers take a grapple at your jaw, guiding you up onto your feet.

you give her a blank stare until it's washed away with a surprised one as you're cast onto the bed, stomach down, ass up. she shambles over you and flattens you out till your hips settle in the cloudy mattress.

she mounts your thighs and inclines her crotch to yours, slowly inserting into your cunt from the back. her nails chisel into your plush hips, thumbs notably indenting on your ass.

"oh-my gmm.. ellie.."

"god damn-" she mumbles to herself, cuffing out a quick chuckle, "you earned this.." positively rewarding you for your work.

insert a loooong night spent railing.

⛧random conclusion hc but I feel like in this position where she's behind you she'll litter you with kisses and bites on your shoulder-neck region, especially for being so good and disposed for her.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

MASTERLIST

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acowardinmordor · 7 months

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You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.”

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too.

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened.

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened.

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot.

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop.

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now.

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan.

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box.

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going.

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.”

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever.

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded.

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?”

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too.

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part.

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her.

“New record, champ, that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check.

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces.

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what.

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts.

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself.

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now..

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--”

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while.

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates.

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling.

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut.

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head.

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity.

Eddie was still standing there.

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question.

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking.

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up.

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag.

***

Steve didn’t open it.

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night.

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days.

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.”

Eddie nodded.

Eddie left.

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat.

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it.

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible.

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him.

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap.

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that.

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada.

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke.

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale.

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess.

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six.

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

#You left me - you miss me #steddie #my writing #angst

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fairyhaos · 9 months

Text

[16:23 PM] — vernon .

306 words, fluff, childhood friends to ??

"I think we should get married."

Your best friend, lounging around on your bed, flinches so hard that his phone slips from his hand and hits him in the face. "Ow. Uh, what? Like, right now?"

“No, silly," you say, rolling your eyes. "I mean when we're older. We should marry each other."

Hansol sits up, frowning. "Why do you want us to get married?"

"Just because," you say, shrugging. "I wouldn't mind marrying you. If we don't get married by, I dunno, 27, then why don't we marry each other?"

Hansol tilts his head. "I dunno, Y/N. I think you should marry someone you love, rather than someone you 'don't mind'. Marriage is kind of a big commitment, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," you say, spinning around and around in your desk chair, "but I can't think of anyone else I'd like to make the commitment with."

"Yet," Hansol adds, and you shrug in acknowledgement.

"Sure. Yet. And if that 'yet' never comes, for me or for you, then we can marry each other. Right?"

You watch your best friend mull over your words, eyelashes fluttering thoughtfully before he nods and then turns back to his phone. "Okay."

"Wait." You blink. "Just like that? You're fine with it?"

Hansol shrugs, tapping away at his game once more. "If you wanna, then yeah. I wouldn't mind marrying you."

He looks up at you, eyes caramel gold in the light streaming through your bedroom windows, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards slightly.

"But really, I'd love you to marry me, not because of tax benefits or anything, but because—"

Hansol pauses there, and you slow down the spinning of your chair, bringing your ankles upwards to cross your legs. "Because what?"

He hesitates again, before smiling once more, soft and pink. "Because you love me."

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar

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auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

A Little Sun part 6 Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ words: 8.4k pairings: Dieter x f!Reader

tags: pregnancy, details of body changing with pregnancy, insecurity, mention of family death, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft dieter, fluff, lurve, angst, miscommunication trope, female masturbation, male masturbation, dirty talk (thoughts). summary: You move in with Dieter after the fight with your mom and things get... complicated. a/n: Y'all this thing has turned into such a fuckin' beast. Remember when I wanted it to be a one shot? Anyway, we're nearing the end with these two idiots in love but I think this one ends pretty damn sweet.

Also I think I'm in love with Dieter Bravo?

SERIES MASTERLIST

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, ENGAGEMENT ARE WHAT KEEP US FIC WRITERS GOING. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS.

Dieter doesn't even let you step fully into his home before he's got you in his arms, wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your suitcases clatter to the floor as you cling to him, burying your face in his neck and fighting back tears.

"You can stay as long as you want," Dieter promises you as one hand cups the back of your head. "Stay forever."

You give a watery chuckle into his shoulder, not quite ready to let go of him. You only break apart when the smell of European cigarettes wafts into the room.

You swipe at your damp eyes while Dieter turns to greet the tiny woman with a shock of white curls. She wears an oversized green t-shirt and loose khaki pants. She shuffles from place to place in her oversized moccasins.

"You remember Magda, right?"

"I think we've met a few times," you say extending your hand. The old woman gives you a look before shuffling over and placing her hand on your belly. You're in too much shock to pull back.

"A healthy boy," she tells you through a thick Eastern European accent. You and Dieter exchange looks of surprise.

"Uh yeah," you peer down at her shriveled frame, "How did you know that it was a boy?"

"I can tell."

She says it with a sage nod and then with that revelation she shuffles off to the kitchen, the feather duster still firmly lodged under her bony arm.

"She's the best," Dieter says says fondly before turning back to you with a look of expectancy. "Lemme show you where you're staying."

He takes both of your suitcase handles and jerks head to the left indicating you should follow.

You follow him out into his garden beside the pool. A place that you've never really visited much before. Most of your business has been conducted inside in his kitchen or in his office. You've heard about his guest house, how he had so many decorators come in over the years.

When you enter into it now, you're surprised at just how normal it seems. You were waiting for whips and chains and other strange memorabilia to line the walls. But instead it looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Crisp White's and Blue wainscotting. Overstuffed chairs and couches surround the coffee table from the photo he sent you. It's strangely tasteful.

It doesn't suit him at all.

Dieter must notice your surprise because he smirks before he rolls your suitcases towards the kitchen bar.

"Remember that Danish woman I dated for a couple months right after you started working for me?"

"Yeah, Lyda something.'

"Right. She wanted to start a career as an interior designer. I let her run the show in this place. Not really my taste."

"Not really mine either," You admit looking around the space. "It is beautifully done but I prefer the place we stayed in Ireland, like, that aesthetic. Old wood and big windows."

"I like that too," Dieter agrees. He sees you yawn and immediately feels guilty for keeping You up after such an emotional day.

"I'm going to have Petra whip you up something for dinner."

Petra is Dieter's chef who stocks his fridge with high end

"Dieter you don't-"

"You gotta take care of you and little Bravo remember?"

Dieter feels something in his chest bloom when instead of rolling your eyes you smile at him, nodding.

"Thanks Dieter."

You wake up the next morning in the plush duvet with your arms stretched above your head before rolling an absent hand down your swollen belly.

"Morning little boy," you whisper to the tiny being there beneath your fingertips. You give a groan as you gently roll yourself off the bed sliding into your slippers and pulling on your robe. Despite your devastation of what happened with your mother, waking up in this beautiful space on this gorgeously sunny day has you feeling hopeful.

This feeling is dampened slightly when you glance at your phone, looking to the calendar and seeing a date in the coming week starred. A date you have been dreading for months. Your birthday. The first one of yours since your father passed. Without your mom around this seems especially painful to consider. You close your phone, not wanting to think about it.

You spot a tall figure out the window and feel your cheeks flush. Something has shifted since Ireland. Something that terrifies you. The whisper of feelings that you're having a hard time repressing when you think of how he supports you.

But you push it from your mind. Your worlds don't match up. You’re serious, you take life seriously, you want to dedicate yourself to science. Dieter wants to fuck and party and grab life by the balls.

Plus he's with Mia and she makes him happy.

Dieter saunters across the backyard, narrowly missing the pool as he heads to the guest house. He's wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants under tattered robe, his eyes hidden behind his sunshades. He's carrying a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a smoothie in the other.

"Dieter it’s ten in the morning," you say as you open the sliding door to greet him.

"I'm still on Ireland time," he says giving you a waggle of his brows before setting the pale

pink smoothie down on the kitchen counter. "Breakfast when you're ready for it."

He sees you eyeing the smoothie warily and gives a deep rumbling chuckle.

"Petra made this one so you're safe. You like strawberries right?"

You take a tentative sip, before giving a soft moan of approval and drinking down the rest.

He rocks back on his heels a moment and despite the dark of his glasses, you can feel his gaze lingering on you.

"So... What're you up to today, Bravo?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"I'm officially no longer part of team Bravo remember?" You remind him with a sad chuckle as you place the empty glass back on the counter. "Diane cut my access to work emails and calendars."

"Shit that's right, I forgot." He looks at you with such a guilty expression. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay. I'm looking at this like a real non working vacation," you tell him honestly pointing out the window. "I figure you have a pool, there's a chef, a housekeeper, I brought books, what more could I ask for?"

"Plus you have a recreation staff," Dieter grins, taking you by the hand and twirling you gently towards him. "Dance lessons by the pool, movie nights, anything the customer wants."

"Hmmm an end to global warming?"

"Sorry that's only with the premium package."

You let out a loud laugh as Dieter joins you, spinning you into a hug. His mouth is only inches from yours and when the two of you realize this your mutual laughter ebbs.

Dieter wants nothing more than to press his mouth to yours, to taste you, to fuck you here in his home. But he knows it's not what you want. You don't want that from Dieter. You want somewhere safe to stay and he'll provide that to you.

Besides there is someone who does want his affection, his touch: Mia.

You swallow, your body poised and mouth slowly tilting towards Dieter before he seems to realize himself. He slowly extricates his arms from around you before reaching into his robe pocket, clearing his throat.

"Here's the key," Dieter tells you, holding it out to you. You take it, looking at the tiny Jameson keychain on it. The one that matches the one Dieter got you in Ireland that you wear on your own keychain. You smile at the sight of it before looking puzzled.

"A key?"

"For the guest house."

"I don't need to lock it," you chide even as you take it from him and toss it into your purse. "It's just you and me here right?"

"Yeah," Dieter hides the broad of his grin behind his whiskey glass. "Just you and me."

For the next several days Dieter tries to give you as much space as possible. He brings you a smoothie every morning citing that Magda is too busy. In the evenings he texts you to invite you over to the big house for dinner. Sometimes you join him, sometimes you’re just too tired.

You always go back to the guest house feeling a little bit down. You didn’t realize you missed sleeping in the same house, how Ireland made it almost feel like living together. Dieter’s place is so large it’s like you’re in separate neighborhoods.

Dinners are starting to be hard as well. Knowing you’ll be leaving to go back to the empty guest room. It’s a luxury, that’s for certain with its tall ceilings and plush bed. But it feels quiet without Dieter’s music or loud laughter.

And so you can admit to yourself that every morning he comes by with the pink smoothie and a big grin, your heart leaps a little bit. Like now, seeing him rushing over more frenzied than usual. He smiles, pushing the drink into your hand hurriedly.

“Here. Drink fast, I finished the nursery and want you to come look.”

“When did you have time to do the nursery?” You ask amazed as you follow him to the main house, smoothie almost drained by the time you reach his place.

“I’ve been in touch with this guy Diora from Albania over email since Ireland. He’s all the rage, super hard to get but he was really excited about trying his hand at a nursery. He just finished Criss Angel’s man cave and James Franco’s bedroom.”

Dieter sweeps a hand to the middle of your back, guiding you down the hall. When he opens the door with a flourish it takes everything in you not to gasp in horror. Your hand still rises to your mouth, though when you step into the room.

It looks like a sex dungeon.

Black and white striped walls, a beautifully ornate crib painted a ghastly red.

"Contrasting colors are good for baby’s retinas," Dieter says confidently. "I read it somewhere."

It takes you a few moments of staring at everything before you can speak.

"You have whips hung on the walls."

"Those are vintage skipping ropes," Dieter tells you aghast at your misunderstanding. You turn slowly, taking everything in. Finally you shake your head slowly.

"Dieter, this is totally inappropriate for a nursery," you say. "What baby would be happy here?"

Dieter takes a moment to glance around the space, his previous elation dimming with every word from you.

"This is what Diora suggested. He's the hottest designer right now."

"Of millionaire bachelor pads," you say as you look at a particularly ugly piece of metal hanging from the ceiling. "Not for a baby’s room."

"I'm not gonna have some tacky nursery with stuffed bears and shit,” Dieter defends. “I can't do it. Anyone who comes over and sees that'll think I've lost my edge."

The thought of being a father is immensely appealing to Dieter. The thought of being a loser Dad is not.

“Mia said it was cool,” Dieter shoots out. “I sent her photos.”

Mia is also in her early twenties, you want to snap. But you hold your tongue, trying to see the upsides to this nursery. Unfortunately you can see none. Everything is a safety hazard.

Dieter paces around the room, suddenly sour at the whole thing. He thought you’d be excited to see where the baby will be. Instead you’ve come in with your judgments and frowning face.

"Please let me... Dieter let me help you with this," you almost beg. "I just.... I know he's not mine but I can't stand the thought of him being in this... Baby prison."

I know he's not mine.

This hurts Dieter to hear it. He knows that you face no interest in being in this baby's life or his the week after you've given birth. But he can admit he's fooled himself with you being here.

But this? This is a project the two of you can work on. A potential to have more reason to have you in the house, not in that fucking guest house. He can only think of so many reasons to knock on your door apart from smoothies.

"Okay, sure."

“Okay,” you say looking relieved. “How about a pale blue or green? Then we can get a nice crib and some rugs and gauzy curtains.”

“That’s so boring.”

“And safe,” you emphasize. “You have to think of his safety, Dieter.”

Dieter pouts slightly in thought, trying to see the nursery through your eyes. He has to concede that perhaps this is a bit much for a newborn.

"Actually, you know what would look really beautiful on this far wall here?" You muse, looking at the space. "That painting you bought me for my birthday."

You think of the artwork hanging in your bedroom. The one of the woman looking out over the ocean, her hair whipping in the sea air. It’s the one thing you didn’t bring from home that you regret. There was something about that painting that made you feel relaxed.

"I didn't buy you that," Dieter says with a furrowed brow.

Your stomach sinks at this admission from Dieter and you wish you could take back everything. The intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability. He never even fucking bought the thing himself. Diane probably did and here you are pouring your heart out about it.

"Oh, uh-Or Diane or whoever-"

"I painted it for you."

All the animosity that had been brewing behind your sternum drains from you. A smile blooms immediately, your body tingling as you roll onto your side to fully face him.

"You did?"

"Yeah," Dieter is smirking at you from the shadows. "I love painting. You think I'd buy you a fucking painting?"

“I think I just assumed that you got Diane or whoever to ship it to me."

"Maybe if you were someone else," Dieter muses, his gaze wandering around the nursery. "Someone who doesn't do everything for me." He falls silent a moment. "You really thought I bought it?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't you think it was weird that the girl in the painting was you?"

Now you're stunned and it must show on your face because Dieter is chuckling softly now.

"You've had it hanging up your room for how long? Did you even look at it?"

"Of course I did, I do," you say in a rush, feeling embarrassed. You look at it every night you’re in your bedroom. "I just ... I never thought..."

"What?"

"I never thought you saw me."

Dieter blinks back at you, his dark eyes searching your face.

"I just mean you never even said thank you before this whole baby thing," you explain. "I've worked for you for a while and you kinda just expected I'd be at your beck and call all hours of the day and night, even on my days off."

"I'm sorry," Dieter whispers. "That was shitty of me."

"Why do you do it?

“I went through so many assistants I just assumed you wouldn’t be sticking around long.” Dieter looks ashamed as he says it out loud. “But then the longer you stayed the more I depended on you. I think… After a while I think it just felt weird to not message you.”

You both lapse into a thoughtful silence.

“You’ll manage just fine without me when I leave,” you tell him, needing him to know. “And if you’re ever feeling really lost and like you just need to talk to someone, you can always call me. Not as an employee, but as a friend.”

“Really? We’re friends?”

“Yeah,” you nod, heart hammering. “Friends.”

Dieter wakes up hard every morning for the next two weeks. He doesn't try to; he actively tries to think of other things before he goes to sleep. He watches documentaries, he reads art books, he meditates. He tries to push you from his thoughts so he can wake up normal.

But he always wakes up aching with the head of his cock weeping, flickering remnants of his dreams still floating around his subconscious. And those dreams are always of you.

Today he wakes up with the memory of his dream still lingering. You on your knees, his cock in your mouth and your eyes heavy lidded. As he shifts in bed Dieter realizes his boxers are sticky with previous release. A fucking nocturnal emission? How old is he?

And what's worse is that he's still fucking hard. Throbbing, actually He groans low in his throat and tries to ignore it.

You're here at his home. You're practically living with him. You're only a few steps from his back door. You're so close and yet so frustratingly far from him. He misses being in the same home as you, like the rental in Ireland. He misses the feeling of coming home after a long day on set and seeing your sweet face on the couch.

He wants that again.

Dieter rolls onto his belly to try and squash his current erection against the mattress. But that doesn't help, it just gives a delicious friction. He shifts again experimentally, groaning at the shiver that travels from the base of his spine to the tip. In his sleepy arousal he imagines that it's not the mattress but you that he's fucking.

"You like that?" Dieter murmurs, eyes closed as he rocks against his bed. "Like feeling me like that, baby?"

He pushes his hips into the bed, starting to rut when the pleasure increases.

You're so big, Dieter.

And suddenly he's thrusting against it, picturing your body writhing under him.

Need it, Dieter. Fuck me harder.

"Yes," Dieter groans into his pillow, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress. He thrusts furiously into the soft fabric of the bed, hips bouncing up and down on the mattress.

Need your big cock, daddy, your dream self moans. Need it deep.

"Fuck yes, baby. Take Daddy's cock. Take it and-"

His phone chirrups loudly on the table next to him, breaking him from the immersive fantasy.

A name and photo flash up on the screen.

Mia.

Immediately he feels guilty. Here he is humping his mattress to thoughts of you as his gorgeous, talented, funny, sexy girlfriend is calling.

He breathes rapidly through his nose, slowing his grinding movements. He rolls over in the bed, reaching for the phone.

"Hey babe," Dieter says, panting as he answers. He flips onto his back, willing his cock to go down.

"You okay? You sound like you've been exercising and I know that can't be true."

Dieter barks a laugh at that. He's about to reply when he hears a splash outside his window. Mia starts chatting in his ear but he's completely taken with the view outside his window.

You're in a bikini, gliding through the clear water of his pool. Dieter feels his mouth run dry at the sight, especially when you roll over onto your back, your belly protruding from the water like a beacon. Your hair dances around your head, your eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun. You have the sweetest little smile on your face.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"Dee? You there?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry babe what?"

"I wanted to know how you're getting on? I've been staying off socials for the last little bit of the shoot trying to stay focused. I finally saw the photos from the airport. How is the poor thing holding up?"

"Stressed, but better."

"She must be happy to be at home away from all that madness."

Dieter feels his stomach clench. He knows he has to be honest with Mia, she's his girlfriend, she deserves to know. And yet he hesitates because he knows how it sounds.

"She's staying in my guest house, actually," Dieter offers in what he hopes is a nonchalant voice.

The warmth from Mia's voice is immediately gone.

"Pardon me?"

"She's, uh, in my guest house for the time being," Dieter adds, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Mia shuffles on the other end before her voice reaches out to him confused.

"I thought you wanted a relationship with me, Dieter. Otherwise why did your agent go to so much trouble to confirm it? To do a splashy roll-out?"

"I do want it."

"But you have the employee you got pregnant living with you?"

"Not with me. In the guest house."

"This is weird, Dee."

He hears the concern in her voice and he feels his stomach drop. He doesn't want to lose Mia.

"Her mom kicked her out," Dieter explains quickly. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Pay for a hotel?"

The answer is so clear, so obvious. Why didn't he offer a hotel? He has the money. Why had it been so important for him to have you here?

Because then he could see you every day.

The answer is immediate but he won't admit it. Not now.

"The paps have been relentless," Dieter says finally. "They'll camp out outside of wherever I put her up. Not like here where I know she's safe away from the public eye."

"But-"

"She's not like us, Mia," Dieter insists. "She doesn't want fame and all that shit. She's just a regular person who's pregnant and alone. Her mom kicked her out, she's got no one else."

He can almost hear Mia softening over the phone.

"It's just hard, Dee," she says finally. "Especially when I haven't seen you in weeks."

Dieter feels a flutter of panic at how sad she sounds. He wants to make it up to her and has a great idea of how.

"Prague!"

Dieter bursts out with this, wincing when he hears how loud he is.

"Sorry, what?"

"What do you think about Prague?" Dieter corrects himself, rubbing nervously at his beard. "You're flying to LA next week for our magazine spread, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you've always wanted to go to Prague, right?"

"Yes."

"So let's do it. After the shoot let's get away from everyone and everything for a few weeks just us two."

"You'd really want to do that?"

"Of course."

He hears Mia weighing the choice on the other end of the line. He holds his breath until he can almost hear her smile.

"Okay Dee, let's do it."

“Amazing,” Dieter says grinning. “I’ll get Diane to send you the details. See you next week.”

He hangs up quickly, undressing and pulling on his swim trunks.

You’re floating on your back, sunglasses on your face, your body most submerged in the cool water. You hear the sound of a door opening and crack one eye open to see Dieter approaching.

Dieter never uses his pool. He got the house on a whim and didn’t even notice it had a pool until he officially moved in. But right now seeing your tits overflowing out of your bikini cups has him so utterly thankful to his former self.

He shrugs off his robe, sliding into the chilly water with an exaggerated brrrr. He swims over to you, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Looked so refreshing I had to join.”

“It’s so nice,” you sigh, your arms and legs out as you soak up the sun and enjoy the lack of strain on your lower back. “I never want to get out.”

Dieter paddles near you for a moment, wanting to remember this moment before he recalls his conversation with Mia.

“Well you’ll have the place to yourself the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Mia and I are going to Prague like you suggested.”

“That’s so great," you say with a tightness in your voice. “When do you leave?”

“Next Thursday.”

Next Thursday.

Dieter stars to drone on about how Mia has all these restaurants and museums she wants to go to but all you can think of is that you’ll be alone on your birthday. The first one since your father passed. No mother to turn to. Nothing. You’ll be completely alone.

A sudden flutter begins in your abdomen and you give an absent smile, hand slowly sliding over your stomach.

Well, not completely alone.

From where you stand in your guest house kitchen you can see into the main house. Specifically into the dining room. At night when the landscape is dark and the lights are on inside you can see it very clearly.

Like tonight.

You can see him pacing inside the house, his tall frame gesticulating wildly. He's obviously going over some lines. He asked you to have dinner and run through them but you’d texted back some feeble excuse.

The truth is you need to separate yourself as much as possible from Dieter because you’re convinced that what you’re starting to feel can’t be explained away by hormones. This desire to be with him.

But he’s leaving with Mia in a few short days on some whirlwind romantic escape. You even showed him the best way to pack his fucking suitcase! The sight of a box of condoms at the bottom of it hidden by the toiletries bag made your throat tighten.

Despite this your eyes sail over to Dieter’s house again, watching him make a note on his script before running through the lines. He looks so sexy when he does it, totally lost in the moment. It reminds you of the character he played in Ireland.

Fuck, that insatiable need is coursing through your body again. The hormones kicking into overdrive as you feel your thighs press together at the memory of Dieter and that regency costume. He looked so good in it. You can almost hear his husky voice in your ear.

It's okay if you want it, baby. Lemme give it to you.

You throw yourself into your plush bed, your hands sliding down under your panties and working frantically against your straining clit.

Uh huh. Just like that. Gotta come on my fingers before you get this cock.

You throw your head back, thighs squeezing as you rut against your fingers. This phantom Dieter plays in your mind, his husky voice full of dark, delicious promise.

Gonna fuck such pretty sounds out of you.

"Dieter," you groan, unable to help yourself. It's pathetic how quickly and easily your orgasm overtakes you. It leaves you shuddering and whimpering, rutting into your fingers and then finally collapsing back as you stare at the ceiling.

What the fuck are you doing?

Despite everything Dieter is still your boss in some ways. He’s still the man paying you to have a child. Yes, he’s sort of a friend, but at the end of the day he still holds some authority over you.

You wish that last thought didn’t turn you on so much.

You’re still groaning when you hear the light tap of knuckles on glass and you jerk up in your bed, face flushed.

You wipe your damp hand on the sheets before slowly stumbling out of the bedroom. Dieter is standing there at the glass door, giving you a stiff wave. You move quickly, tugging the door open. The sound of cicadas and LA night traffic punctuate the formerly peaceful space.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m really sorry to come over here so late but Magda just told me when she was cleaning this place this afternoon she saw a roach.”

“What?”

Immediately you’re moving towards him, glancing behind you in disgust. Your eyes sweep the floor and counters for any trace. Strange, you haven’t noticed anything and this place is kept perfectly clean.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, looking tense. “So I gotta get this place fumigated ASAP.”

“Of course.”

“But the fumes are bad for the baby so you’ll have to move your stuff into the main house until it’s finished.”

“For how long do you think?”

“Dunno,” Dieter shrugs, motioning to the room airily. “I was gonna call a guy in the morning to get some quotes. Might be a couple weeks before they can get someone out here.”

A couple weeks? Dieter has enough money to have the place fumigated tonight if he really wanted to. You gaze up at Dieter about to say as such when you see the searching nature of his eyes and suddenly the shoe drops.

There’s no roach.

You note the tense way he rubs his fingers together, the way his brows rise and eyes go owlish the longer you stare at him.

“I’m terrified of roaches,” you finally tell him as you start to throw your stuff into your suitcases. “Can I move my stuff in tonight?”

“Would be the safest,” Dieter nods exaggeratedly helping you to pack. It takes no time at all before he’s helping you carry the suitcases across the yard and into his home.

The guest room is just as nice as the guest house with tall ceilings but slightly less homey. Dieter prefers marble floors and gold accents. Things he was taught as a child meant rich. The bed is lovely, but minimalist. You are however very impressed with the large bathtub and even bigger rain forest shower. You put your suitcases to the side, feeling Dieter watch you from the doorway.

“It’s still early you wanna watch a doc or something?”

You bite back the delighted smile that threatens to bleed over your features before you turn to face him.

“Sure.”

“Okay, you got your passport, the tickets are on your phone, your bags are packed,” the young man’s reedy voice lists off things from his checklist as the three of you stand in the kitchen the following week. Dieter is sitting on one of the stools dressed nicely and looking nervously from the paper to you, completely ignoring Rupert.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Dieter.”

“What if you go into labor?”

“Almost three months early?” you force a laugh from where you stand by the fridge. “Then we have bigger issues than you not being here. Now c’mon. Mia’ll be here any second.”

Today is the photo spread for the movie Mia and Dieter starred in. It’ll run late so the lovebirds have decided on spending the night in a fancy hotel before shuttling off to Prague the next day. Dieter is always nervous about trips away but he realizes this is especially daunting since he’ll have no PA with him.

Diane has sent him someone new over during the week. A young man with bloodshot eyes and a nervous countenance named Robert or Roger. Dieter can’t remember. All he knows is that the kid does his job decently but he isn’t you.

But he promised himself that he would plan this trip for he and Mia. He researched the restaurants and hotels with her and booked it all. He got them the best seats in the plane and the nicest suite in the hotel.

But all he can think is that he’s going to be away from you for two weeks. Away from his son nestled safely in your body.

“I made a new tape for him,” Dieter says, suddenly snapping. He reaches into his pocket and slides the tape towards you. “Make sure he listens.”

“Yes, yes,” you say rolling your eyes.

The doorbell rings and Rupert immediately goes to answer it leaving you and Dieter alone. He watches you peering into the fridge trying to find something to satisfy your current craving of salty vanilla pudding.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

His voice is a quiet hum. Your mouth tries to form the words but all you can think of is Dieters warm eyes, his hands caressing your belly, the sweet timbre of his voice when he reads to you when you can’t sleep.

“I’m going to be okay,” you promise him softly as you glance over to him. “Now go say hello to your girlfriend.”

Dieter nods resolutely before bolting around the corner to see Mia. You hear his excited greeting and you try not to feel upset. Instead you dig around in the cupboard for something salty. You hear your name being called and you turn to see Dieter and Mia entering the room.

Mia’s eyes go round with shock at seeing you waddle towards her. You give a bright smile, despite the pang that goes through you at the sight of them hand-in-hand.

"Oh wow," Mia says when you waddle into the room holding a bag of chips.

"Weird right?"

"A little," she laughs. You join in, knowing how strange this entire scenario is. You feel like a baby hippo meanwhile Mia looks like she just stepped off the runway.

“So nice to see you,” she says, giving you an awkward hug as she avoids the bump. “I brought a little something for the baby,” she hands a wrapped gift to Dieter, “and one for you.”

Dieter unwraps the package, bringing out a first edition copy of Winnie the Pooh. Your eyes widen at the sight. That must have cost her a fortune.

“Thanks babe,” Dieter says warmly, kissing her. You look away, unwilling to watch and unwrap your gift from Mia which turns out to be a delicate crystal flower vase. Arguably one of the most useless things on the planet since you hate flowers. Dieter knows this and you think you catch a curl of amusement in his face.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you falter.

“I know,” she says sweetly. “I just saw it and thought of you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, careful not to exchange amused looks with Dieter across the room. You shoot a soft smile at Mia. “Thank you so much. I’ll go pop it in my room so it doesn’t get broken. Magda tends to be a little chaotic when she cleans.”

You turn, about to go down the hallway to the bedroom when you feel something like tension in the room. You don't know why you pause but you do.

"I thought you were staying in the guest house?" She asks you but her eyes are scanning Dieter’s face.

“She was,” Dieter explains, hoping his cheeks aren’t red. “But there were roaches.”

Mia’s face scrunches. “Roaches?”

“Yeah,” you finally fumble, rubbing absently at your stomach. "The guest house needed to be fumigated and that’s not safe for the baby. That’s the only reason I’m in the guest room. I’ll be out in the guest house as soon as the fumigation is over."

Mia nods, but you don't miss the lingering look there in her light eyes.

With Dieter in Prague for the next few weeks you have a lot of free time to yourself. The only problem is you have no one to spend it with. You can't be seen in public now without a bodyguard save for your short walks through Dieter's Calabasas neighborhood. Phone calls with your mom are no longer an option. So you spend most of your time scrolling through social media, watching movies and swimming.

Dieter has always been annoying but he's the kind of annoying that brings you comfort now. Without his loud presence in the house you start to feel lonely. A strange feeling you've never really experienced due to your busy lifestyle.

It makes you long for the sound of Dieter's record player in the art room. Makes you long for his brash laughter during a funny commercial. Makes you long for the way your voices worked against one another when practicing lines, the sound of him muttering to himself when he reads something that interests him in the paper, the way he rasps your name when he’s just woken up.

All the sounds of Dieter that you realize have come to be their own comforting symphony to you.

But he’s with Mia and that's how it should be. They're on the same level. And you know that these feelings are from your hormones. This warmth will fade the second this child is taken from you and is likely contributing to this lonely feeling that arises with you each empty morning.

He’s only been gone four days but those days seem to stretch into eternity. Your mind is usually so full and your schedule packed. But you’re almost annoyingly free right now. Dieter has made only one request of you and that is to update the app every day at least once. He says it makes him feel less guilty about leaving, even though you're the one who encouraged it.

So you do.

29 weeks

Cravings

SALT

Vanilla

pie filling

chips

peanuts

Missing

the ability to see my feet

Baby is size of butternut squash

The only thing that tethers you to Dieter are the sporadic text messages he sends you. Where you once found his constant need to stay in touch annoying, now you crave his random messages, re-reading them with a smile.

[1:44pm] D: I hate not speaking Czech. I feel like everyone is making fun of me and I have no proof. [1:44pm]: You're being paranoid. [1:44pm] D: I'm not!!! [1:46pm] D: Okay maybe a little. Mia and I did an edible. [1:46pm]: Dieter! [1:46pm] D: Diane said no hard drugs! Edibles are natural.

You roll your eyes.

[1:47pm]: Whatever. Hope you're having fun.

You wish you could see his face when you recall Mia's instagram. You forgot you follow her. The second you click on her story you wish you hadn't. It's her and Dieter in a gorgeous spot in Prague chatting with the caption: Czech us Out! @BravoitsDieter

Your loneliness hits you on the fifth day quite acutely. And instead of turning to television or swimming you lay on your back in bed and stare up into the ceiling before your fingers fumble for your phone and you type hurriedly.

[6:08am]: I think he has your hair. [6:12am] D: Huh? What?? Why? [6:12am]: They say if the mother has lots of heartburn then the kid will have lots of hair. Right now I feel like my heart has been dropped in acid. [6:13am] D: No way. I thought babies were always bald. [6:13am]: Not always. I wasn't. Were you? [6:13am] D: Dunno. Never saw baby photos of myself. [6:14am]: Why not? [6:14am] D: My mom cared about stuff like that. When she died my dad just put everything in the attic and tried to forget.

You didn't know that about Dieter. You've heard snatches of information from other staff that Dieters dad is a low life, but to not save photos of your kid? That seems cruel.

[6:14am]: I'm sorry. [6:15am] D: NP. [6:15am] D: Mia is taking me to a museum so I gtg ttyl

You frown at the phone.

"What a bitch," you murmur before stopping yourself. You think about how your baby can probably hear sounds outside the womb now and you feel guilty.

"No, actually, she's not a bitch. She's really lovely and she's so good for your dad."

Your hands drift over your belly slowly, subconsciously as you speak and soon your eyes follow suit.

"Strange to think you're just in there all snuggly," you tell your belly with amusement. You gasp when you think you can feel a slight flutter within you abdomen.

"Is that you?" You wonder aloud. "Can you hear me?"

The fluttering continues and you feel something in you shift. Your heart squeezes pleasantly. He rarely moves around for just you. It seems he's most active when Dieter is nearby.

"You're really in there," you laugh to yourself. "And you can hear me."

The lonely feelings begin to dissipate. You're not alone - you have your son to keep you company. You talk to him through the day. You make jokes about bubble having Dieters hair. You talk to Bubble about the book you read on the porch. When you watch a documentary you narrate for the baby.

You update the app with a cheerful photo of you making a heart over the bellybutton with your fingers. You think Dieter will get a kick out of it.

When you go to bed you put the headphones over your belly and hit play on the walkman.

"This is a new one from your Dad," you tell your belly wryly as you position the foam on either side of your bump. "So I apologize now if it's fucking annoying."

With a serene smile you go to sleep with his muffled voice against your skin. And when you wake up on the sixth day you feel good. It's not until you look at the calendar that you're reminded of Friday's date.

Your birthday.

The first one without your father. It makes your stomach drop.

As if all of California has gotten the memo the day is grey and drizzly. You spend most of the day napping and eating whatever Petra has put together. But by mid afternoon you’re feeling restless. You try walking around the block, but the weather drives you back inside. You try to distract yourself but nothing seems to work.

Petra and Magda have gone home for the day. It’s just you and bubble and right now it feels like it’s just you. You decide to order a pizza for dinner, and as you wait for your Hawaiian Delight to arrive you can’t help but reach out to the one person you wish was here.

[5:48pm]: How is Prague? [5:50pm] D: Boring. [5:50pm]: Only you would say Prague is boring, Dieter. [5:51pm] D: In the airport now. Gonna go to Germany for a couple days. Mia really wants to see Cologne Cathedral and apparently they’re doing some once-in-a-decade tour event thing. I dunno. How’s the bubble? [5:51pm]: Still here.

You don’t know why you’re both still calling him Bubble. The tabloids have made it impossible not to be aware that you’re pregnant after all. But there’s something sweet about referring to him as your little Bubble.

[5:52pm] D: airport is so fucking noisy and I'm so tired. found coffee though.

[5:52pm]: Make sure not to drink too much. You won’t sleep on the plane. [5:52pm] D: U didn’t update the app today. [5:53pm]: Sorry, been distracted. [5:53pm] D:??? [5:53pm] D: How come?

You have no desire to get into this over text. Besides it’s not Dieters problem, it’s yours. And it’s not a problem it’s just. . . life.

[5:55pm]: Doesn’t matter. Here, this will have to do.

You attach a picture of your hand over your swollen bump and send it over.

You’re surprised when you see Dieter calling.

“Hello?”

“Why are you distracted?”

“Dieter don’t you have better things to do than call me about this?” You say rolling your eyes, but still delighted to be hearing his raspy voice. “Aren’t you in the airport?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t Mia with you?”

“She went to get another magazine for the flight. You gonna tell me what’s going on? Is it the Bubble?”

“No,” you say grunting as you lean back against the sofa.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine!”

“Cmon,” Dieter cajoles. “You know I’m just gonna keep calling and texting until you tell me.”

“Its pregnancy brain,” you throw out, hoping this will satiate him.

“Liar. Your voice always does that clipped thing when you lie.”

You can’t help but feel a small smile cross your features. You hear the distant boarding call for his flight and you decide you might as well tell him. It’s not like he doesn’t already know that your dead is dead.

“It’s just… It’s my birthday. The first one since my dad died and ...."

You trail off. You hear silence on the other end of the phone and then a soft fuck.

“Dieter?”

“I thought it was next month,” Dieter is murmuring and you can hear him tapping on the phone. “Fucking calendar. Fuck. I thought it was next month same day. That’s what I have it as. Fuck. This is why I don’t program my own fucking electronics. Fuck.”

“Nope. Today,” you clarify, amused at how frazzled he sounds. “But it’s not your problem. It’s just this is my first birthday without my Dad and, my Mom isn’t talking to me and I realized I’ve worked so hard so long I have no real friends and…. It’s just…”

You break off when you feel tears starting.

“Anyway, not your problem,” you say forcing your voice up an octave. “I’m only telling you because you asked. I hope you and Mia enjoy your trip! I can’t wait to see photos.”

“Hey, wait-“

“I gotta go,” you say, brushing the stray tears that have escaped. “Pizza guy is here. Bye!”

You hang up the phone and then place it on silent. You don’t want to talk with him anymore. You don’t want to talk with anyone. You just spoke to Dieter but that doesn't stop you from missing him. It gets to the point where you pull up old interview footage with him on YouTube just so you can hear his voice and see his smile.

When the pizza arrives you pay the guy delivering it, but then you just shove the box in the fridge. You take a shower, letting the tears mingle with the steamy droplets before pulling on a new nightdress. You grab the walkman and headphones, about to put them on when you pad t the kitchen for a glass of water.

You walk back, about to retire to your guest room, walking past Dieter’s bedroom. You’ve rarely ever been inside it and never when he isn’t at home. But something about today compels you into it, something make you push open the door and walk to his bed.

The room is recently cleaned by Petra, the bed freshly made, the floors sparkling, his clothing put away. The fireplace is off but you switch it on, noticing his tattered green robe freshly washed and hanging on the back of the bedroom door. You don’t even think about it, you just pull it on over your sleep dress and stumble into his bed.

Dieter’s bed is so comfy, even better than the one in his guest house and room. You curl under the sheets, burying your face in his pillow. It smells like his expensive shampoo and the cologne he sometimes wears. It brings tears to your eyes.

You wish he was here.

You turn onto your back, tummy swollen and resting heavily. It makes you long for Dieter in all aspects. Not just to fuck, but to spend time with. He's so different from anyone you know. He doesn't follow rules or social norms. But when you're with him you feel calm and not judged. It makes you feel like you can let go.

"Your daddy really is wonderful," you murmur to your belly, stroking it. "You might hear bad stuff but you need to know what a good heart he has. He's so generous and funny and he loves so deeply. You're not even here yet and he's so in love with you."

You look at the walkman resting beside you, and instead of putting it around your abdomen something inspires you to put the headphones on yourself. You’ve never listened to the message before but tonight you do.

You slip the cheap foam over your ears, rewinding the tape and smiling when his voice sounds out over the tape.

“Hey little Bravo, this is your dad speaking. I just found out you’re gonna be a boy. Woah. My son. Uh, I need you to know that you are so special and that when you’re born we’re gonna have so much fun. I’ve already made a list of places we’re gonna go. And-“

It goes on like this for several minutes with Dieter excitedly detailing all his future plans for he and his son. You hang onto every word, enraptured with the life he has in store for his son. You imagine a future with Dieter holding a baby with his same wild hair. And in this future you see him reach for a woman, but she isn’t you. It’s Mia, and she looks so happy with them. The perfect family.

Dieter’s voice draws you back in.

“You need to know that your Mom loves you just as much as me. I watch her patting you and whispering to you all the time. She told me last week that you were the size of a head of cauliflower. Then she started humming a song about her cauliflower son.”

You laugh out loud at the memory of you swimming a few weeks ago humming a tune about a cauliflower son. You didn’t even realize Dieter was paying attention. You turn your attention back to the recording.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so so much. I’m so excited to meet you.”

You stop the tape, rewinding it.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”

You sniffle, rewinding the tape again.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”

Again.

“I love you so much.”

Again and again you rewind to hear that section. And as you finally drift off into sleep it’s to the gentle sound of the man you desire whispering how much he loves you.

Dieter arrives at home late, toeing off his sneakers as he yawns, scratching his belly before heading for his bedroom. The suitcase is left at the front door, tomorrow’s problem. He’s exhausted from the flight and he needs to get some sleep before he talks to you tomorrow morning.

He opens the door to his room, preparing to throw himself into bed when he notices the fireplace is on. He pauses, seeing you in your bed lying on your side sleepily soundly. A small smile curls onto his lips when he sees the bright yellow walkman in your hand, fingers loosely around it. What strikes him is that you're wearing the headphones; you don't have them around your belly.

Dieter is quiet, looking down at your peaceful sleeping face illuminated by your bedside table. One of your hands is splayed over your belly protectively and this makes him smile. He gently pulls the earphones from off your head, sliding the walkman from your grip and placing both on his nightstand.

He figures he’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, musing that you’re playing musical beds tonight.

You murmur something sleepily, something be doesn't catch. He takes a minute longer to look at you and then his face hovers over yours. He kisses you softly, an innocent press of his lips to yours.

"G'night baby mama."

You shift partly awake, arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. He grins, allowing himself to get pulled into the bed next to you. You’re so warm. You don't say anything; you just snuggle up against him, face nuzzling against his neck.

"Go back to sleep, baby," Dieter tells your sleepy frame. "Just turning the light off."

He presses a ginger kiss to your temple before his free hand clicks the light next to the bed.

"Okay, love you, g'night," you murmur, still mostly dozing.

Dieter is silent, unmoving as your words rattle around in his head. He waits until you're snoring before he finally replies.

"I love you too."

TAGLIST: @getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes @daddy-dins-girl @moel-jiller @tammythr @guelyury @lilyevanstan1325 @lu62 @sptbear @staywildflowahchild @whirlwindrider29 @pedropascalsbbg @cherrycosmos392

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #series #a little sun

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rhey-007 · 7 months

Text

Anger Harms Beauty

Lance Stroll x Alonso!reader

• | social media au / enemies to lovers

Summary: Your father setting you up for a horrible date with Lance, changed your both's indifference to a mutual hate. But when your inappropriate photos get leaked out the Canadian is first to defend and help you.

Warnings/Tags: female reader, fluff, mentions of revealing photos, toxic reader and Lance, mutual hate, enemies to lovers

A/N: I'm recently head over heels with Lance so you can expect more fics with him 🧍‍♀️ I also have a personal beef with his Vegas beard it's too much, the Brazil one was just perfect TwT

INSTAGRAM

lance_stroll just followed y/n._.alonso

y/n._.alonso just followed lance_stroll

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n._.alonso and 50,678 others

tagged: astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial

•lance_stroll: Great weekend in Montreal! Thank you all! 💞

•fernandoalo_oficial: P3 and P7! We're rocking it!

•user1: can't believe Lance was P7...

•astonmartinf1: great performance from both drivers! Congrats! 👏🥳🎉

•y/n._.alonso: SHAVE OFF THAT GROSS DILL 🤢 you look older than my father and he's almost 50!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: I'm not that old... :(

→ •y/n._.alonso: Lo siento papa 💞 (I'm sorry dad)

→ •lance_stroll: shave your armpits and then we can talk

→ •user2: Lance is savage 😮

→ •user3: that's more mean than savage

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll and 45,923 others

•y/n._.alonso: 🥰🤤🍴

•fernandoalo_oficial: my baby should open a restaurant!!! 💞🤤

•user4: ah to be y/n and eat such delicious food whenever I want and still have a body of a goddess... TwT

•lance_stroll: you're gonna be fat if you eat all that

→ •y/n._.alonso: says a guy who eats the trashiest food ever

→ •lance_stroll: at least I work out and don't slump in bed 24/7

•bluebellhorner: best food I ate in like forever! 😍

→ •y/n._.alonso: thank you honey! 💞💞💞

•user5: I want to try it so bad 😭

INSTAGRAM

liked by y/n._.alonso, estebanocon and 763,213 others

•lance_stroll: just bought this beauty and I can't get over how amazing it is! 😍

•estebanocon: good for you buddy! The best car you own for sure! 💪

•logansargeant: what a pretty beast! when's my turn for a ride?

→ •lance_stroll: whenever you'd like :)

•y/n._.alonso: you should buy yourself a new face not a car

→ •lance_stroll: some's jealous daddy won't buy them one 🤭

→ •y/n._.alonso: I can buy it myself I don't need daddy's money... Not like someone 🤭👉👈

→ •user6: •lance_stroll you got shot with your own weapon! XD

•user7: I want this car so much 😩

→ •user8: maybe one day... 🥲

INSTAGRAM

liked by bluebellhorner, fernandoalo_oficial and 567,365 others

tagged: •yourbestie

•y/n._.alonso: gym day with my girlie •yourbestie 💪🥊

•user9: I want that body yadi 😭

→ •user10: we all want that body yadi 🥲

•lance_stroll: oh look who started to go to the gym, wonder why... 🤔

→ •y/n._.alonso: shut up, you wouldn't even take my dad in a fight

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: don't even bring me into that...

→ •user11: the father has had enough 😂

→ •user12: he's done with both of them

→ •user13: why do they keep fighting under every post???

•yourbestie: I'm not going to the gym with you anymore... I can't walk now... 🥲

→ •y/n._.alonso: love you too hihi 🤭💞

INSTAGRAM

liked by bluebellhorner, fernandoalo_oficial and 687,345 others

tagged: yourbestie

•y/n._.alonso: looking for a new boo 🤭💍

•yourbestie: great weekend so far! Can't wait for the rest! 😘

•user13: petition for y/n and bestie to adopt me as their new friend 🧍‍♀️🙋‍♀️

→ •user14: me too!

→ •logansargeant: I want too!

→ •user13: nu-uh, you would spy for Lance >:(

→ •logansargeant: 😔

•lance_stroll: You're not gonna find anyone there, too high level for you

→ •y/n._.alonso: you're ona a waaaay lower level than me 🙃

→ •lance_stroll: you wish

→ •y/n._.alonso: no. I know it 💅

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

liked by lance_stroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 789,324 others

tagged: lance_stroll

•y/n._.alonso: this guy... I can't 😭💞

Never thought he'll become the closest person for me in those hard times. He appeared in my apartment the same day those photos leaked out, arms stuffed with food, flower bouquets and a huuuge teddy bear plushie (I still have no idea how he managed to bring all those things upstairs in one go), ready to comfort me as long as I'd need it. •lance_stroll I'm sorry I was such a bitch, I love you 💞

And I withdraw my words that •fernandoalo_oficial has the worst taste in men. He knew way better than me from the start and I regret not giving Lance a second chance at the very beginning just as he suggested me to. I'm sorry dad, love you too 💞

•lance_stroll: I forgive you fatty ❤

→ •y/n._.alonso: don't even start or it'll end too soon -_-

→ •lance_stroll: sorry mami ❤

→ •user15: that is so cute I can't 😭💞

→ •user16: THEY ARE TOO CUTE KSXNDNBDJEJ

•fernandoalo_oficial: of course I was right 🧍‍♀️💅

→ •y/n._.alonso: Eres el mejor papa 💞 (you're the best dad)

→ •lance_stroll: •fernandoalo_oficial can I call you papa too now? :3

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: nope 🤨🧐

→ •lance_stroll: :(

•estebanocon: fucking finally! 🎉

→ •logansargeant: YEEES 💥💪 YOU GUYS SLAY

→ •yourbestie: stop...

•yourbestie: •lance_stroll our beef ain't ending here >:(

→ •lance_stroll: •y/n._.alonso❗ she's is threatening me again❗❗❗

→ •y/n._.alonso: don't even start... 🫥

→ •user17: AGAIN??? •yourbestie GURL WHAT DID YOU DO???

→ •yourbestie: 🤭💞

→ •user18: I bet she tried killing him more than once 😂

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#f1 #f1 fanfiction #fanfiction #female reader #formula 1 #formula one #fluff #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #social media #fernando alonso #hate comments

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bluebeary-jay · 10 months

Text

Midnight kisses

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Jackson celebrates the New Year’s Eve, and you're thinking about finally confessing to your crush how much you like him. but Joel Miller, the object of your affections, might have other plans in mind. (based on this adorable request!!)

Tags: FLUFF my beloved 🥰, Joel is very flirty in this one, lots of crushinggg, just old sweet mutual pining (also they're both lovesick idiots)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk, jealousy, age difference

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: i had a lot of fun with this one 🥰 thank you so much once again for the request, dear, i hope you'll like what i came up with. (btw this was supposed to be a short fic but it seems i'm unable to write one 😔) still i hope yall will like it and as always, happy reading!! 💕

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in a full swing.

You didn’t expect anything else from the Jackson community. Ever since you arrived here, you were astounded by the effort that the people living in this small town were making to create a life as normal and joyous as possible – for their children and themselves. And today, on New Year’s Eve, they outdid themselves. There was food, music and drinks – almost as if the apocalypse outside those walls never happened.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping on your beverage while you waited for your friend, Angie, to arrive. Dancing alone didn’t sound like an appealing idea, so while you waited for her, you opted for some people-watching – though if you were honest with yourself, it was more like ‘person-watching’.

Your eyes strayed to a figure on the opposite side of the room for like a twentieth time, but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. Because there stood a man who still, even after more than a year of knowing him, made the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

Joel Miller.

He looked really good in a clean flannel and fitting jeans, you conceded. His hair was slightly wet, like he washed it just before coming to the party, and combed a little to the back, making the silver strands in his hair and beard shine in the low lights. You found yourself unable to look away or get rid of that stupid grin on your face that lingered when Joel smiled lopsidedly at something his brother said. The muscles in his arm bulged when he lifted his glass to take a sip, and you watched the lines of his neck when his throat bobbed...

“You’re ogling,” murmured a voice next to your ear, and you jumped a little in surprise. Next to you stood Angie, smirking at you.

“Jesus, Angie.” You put your hand on your chest, your heart pounding rapidly. “A ’hello’ would be nice.”

Your friend knew, of course, about your massive crush on Joel Miller, and you thought more than a year of pining on your part would cause her to grow bored of all the jokes and teasing that she threw your way. Apparently, you were wrong.

“Hello,” she said, then sat down on the other chair and leaned closer to you with a wide smile. “You’re ogling. In a room full of people, may I add.”

“I’m not,” you murmured defensibly, but your face grew warm at the realization that she caught you. “How long have you been standing here, anyway?”

“Like half a minute. By the way, you’re also drooling.”

“I’m not!” you repeated, now in an irritated whisper. You knew you weren’t drooling, but still had to refrain yourself from wiping your mouth, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “Stop making things up.”

“You should just go talk to him.” Angie casually nodded in Joel’s direction. “He didn’t come with a date, sooo…”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s waiting for someone.”

“Uh, duh!” Angie flicked you on the forehead, and you hissed. “For you to make a move. You can… oh, I know!” she bounced in her seat excitedly and clapped her hands. “Ask him to dance with you!”

You almost snorted. “Joel Miller dancing? Sure. He wouldn’t agree even if he did like me.”

“He does like you. Jesus, you flirt with each other all the time.” The smile disappeared from her lips and she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice. And maybe dead.”

“There’s no flirting, I told you.” You took a sip of your drink, glancing at the object of your affection. “He talks in this way to everyone.”

“He never called me ‘darling’,” Angie retorted. “Or gave me his jacket when we got caught up in the rain.”

You smiled softly at the memory, but that just made you feel even more hopeless, because since that day, you weren’t able to have a normal conversation with the man you liked so much.

“What do I do?” you whined, leaning on the table. “He’s so beautiful. And he for sure doesn’t see me that way.”

“Are you drunk already? You said you didn’t want a repeat from–”

“–from last year, yeah,” you finished for her and sighed. “I’m not drunk, just feeling down. There’s no way I’ll be able to tell him I like him, Angie.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” Your friend nudged you gently. “You can just inconspicuously take him under one of the mistletoe and go ‘oh, what’s that?’, and then…”

“What mistletoe?” you asked, only now looking up at the ceiling where familiar-looking leaves were tied with a string to the support beams under the ceiling and above the doors. “Why is there mistletoe hanging?” you asked skeptically. “It’s a New Year’s Eve party.”

“I think they haven’t taken it down since last week.” Angie shrugged, but then grinned at you. “Don’t you think it’s a sign, though? So many places to kiss your crush under~...”

“Jesus, keep your voice down,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands again. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” she mocked in a low voice. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know, babe,” you whined, and sighed heavily again. “You know what, maybe I should just forget it. Let’s go have fun, dance, and later throw up from all the food and…”

Suddenly, Angie interrupted you with a high noise in her throat. You gave her a questioning look and she looked at you with a tight-lipped smile and wide eyes.

“He’s coming here.”

“What?!” You automatically turned around before Angie hissed for you not to look, and sure enough, there was Joel Miller, making his way through the crowd with his eyes locked on you. “Oh my god,” you breathed, clutching at your friend’s hand. “He must’ve seen us talking. What do I do?”

“You sit there and look smoking hot, and let him flirt with you,” she answered with confidence you didn’t feel. “And maybe you won’t even need to ask for the kiss, maybe he’ll do it for–” Her eyes darted above your shoulder. “Oh, hey, Miller.”

You gulped and took a deep breath before turning around and– oh, God, he looked even better up close.

Angie kicked you lightly under the table when you didn’t say anything, and you cleared your throat, smiling up at the man you were so crazy about. “Uhm, hi, Jo– Mr Miller.”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name, sugar?” He had kind of a boyish smile on his face that made him look younger and even more handsome, which in turn made your stomach fill with warmth. He sat down next to you, and his eyes scanned you down and back up, slowly, lingering on your legs and curves just for a second longer. “You look lovely.” He then glanced at Angie, sending her a nod. “Both of you.”

“Really?” you beamed, and Angie kicked your ankle again, making you wince. “Uhm, thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”

A trace of smirk ran across his face, but it was gone before you could make sure it was really there in the first place.

“Are you enjoyin’ the party?” he asked casually, hiding one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. Your eyes followed his movement before you caught yourself.

“Y-yeah, it’s nice. A little too loud for me, but really nice.”

“Maybe you wanna step outside for a bit, then?” Joel nodded in the direction of the deck in the back, and your heart started beating faster.

Did he want to be alone with you? Or was just being polite and preferred to talk somewhere quieter, and you were getting your hopes up unnecessarily? You hoped it was the first, that he genuinely enjoyed chatting with you as much as you did with him – but you never knew with a man like Joel Miller. He was an enigma, sometimes serious and so stoic that you couldn’t for the world figure out what was going on in his head, and other times charming and teasing, making you weak in the knees when he was looking at you with that fiery glint in his eyes…

“Sugar?” Joel asked, lifting his eyebrows with what seemed to be amusement, and you cursed yourself mentally for spacing out.

“Sorry, I… Yes, let’s– sure, let’s go.”

All of you stood up and you looked over your shoulder at Angie with a panicked face, but instead of reassuring you, she sent you a quick, sly grin.

“You two go ahead,” she chirped. “I’m gonna go look for my date.”

“Angie–” you whispered, giving her a look, but the woman just winked and turned around, disappearing into the crowd of dancing people. “Angie!”

Before you could go after her, you felt a big, warm hand on the small of your back, and your entire body tensed. Joel leaned over to your ear, whispering in a low voice.

“Shall we?”

“Yeah,” you squealed, so quietly he probably didn’t hear it over the loud music. “Sure.”

Your legs moved on their own, going where he guided you. The walk to the terrace in the back lasted no longer than fifteen seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. You were very aware of the light pressure of his fingertips on your back, with only one layer of material separating your skin from his, and the nerves of feeling him so close behind you were making you walk stiffly and oddly – though, miraculously, he didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t like how loud the music is, either,” Joel said after you two exited the main room, and he closed the door. Then he glanced at you again, his eyes flicking to your bare legs just for a second longer. “Are you cold?”

“No,” you answered truthfully. Not only was it nice to feel the cool air after sitting in a stuffy room with a crowd of people for so long, but also you still felt warm from Joel’s closeness. “I’m alright.” Joel nodded absentmindedly, and you squinted. “Did you want to talk about something or…”

“Nah, just wanted to escape for a minute.” He rubbed his beard and shrugged, but there was tightness to his body language. “Not much to do in there except for drinkin’.”

“And dancing,” you cut in.

Joel glanced at you, and the lazy smirk returned onto his features.

“You like to dance, sweet girl?” he asked, and you felt your face growing hot when you heard his tone. Low, drawling and oh, so delicious.

“If the party is good, yes, I guess so.” Then you remembered what Angie suggested earlier, and you took a shaky breath, mustering all the courage you had in you. “We… if you want, we could dance a little later, if they play something nice…?”

But the hot nerves in your chest turned to cold disappointment when Joel started to shake his head with a chuckle. “Nah, darlin’. Sorry, I don’t… I’m no dancer.”

“Noone here is,” you retorted, a bit hurt by how quick his rejection was. “It’s just for fun.”

“I know better ways to have fun than t’make an idiot of myself in front of bunch of people.”

“Like what?”

Of course, you just had to ask.

Joel smirked, as if he was just waiting for it, and took a step forward, forcing you to take one backwards. His brown eyes bored into yours, making you weak in your knees, and you promptly turned your gaze away, not able to withstand the tension in the air. With a cough, you walked up to the wooden railing, pretending that you weren’t feeling sheepish at all.

“For one, talkin’ here with you is fun enough for me.”

You forced yourself to look at Joel when you heard it, just to see if he’s joking, but the man appeared genuine. He leaned against the rails, his hand right next to your shoulder, and you couldn’t get rid of the thought of how easy it’d be for him to cage you in this spot with his strong arms, how he’d make your entire body tremble…

But you weren’t quite sure yet if he was being sweet or just tried to mess with you, so you decided that a teasing response would be the best course of action.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged lightly. “I’d still like to find someone to dance with tonight.”

At that, Joel’s hand gripped the railing tighter and his body stiffened. You had to hide a triumphant smirk on your face, pleased that you managed to throw him off his game – whatever it was that he was playing.

“One of your friends?” In your peripheral vision you saw him lifting his eyebrows with the faintest of scowls. “Or one of those shady guys sittin’ at the bar, staring at pretty girls like you? ’Cause they’re no good for you, darlin’.”

“Oh, really?” you scoffed and lifted your chin, feeling touched that Joel was acting so protective – (and maybe even… jealous?) – about what you said. “You were the one that didn’t want to dance. What do you know about what’s good for me, anyway?”

“Those guys won’t treat you right. They just want a girl to spend the night with, and you deserve better than that.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t mean you were going to openly give him his due. You made an acknowledging noise, not really sure what to say, but Joel didn’t seem to mind. He continued in a quiet, raspy voice that sent shivers down your spine. “You deserve someone who’d take real good care of you, darlin’. Not some drunk out of their ass idiot.”

“Are you drunk, Mr Miller?” you asked, not looking at him in fear he’ll see how red his words made you, though you could still see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“No.”

“You act like you are.”

“C’mon, sugar, look at me.” He took your chin between his fingers and your body went rigid. His warm gaze met yours for just a second, and he tilted his head forward a little. “Do I look drunk?”

“A little.” You turned your head away, but he tsked and guided your chin back.

“In the eyes, darlin’.” You gulped at his words, and his dark, brown irises twinkled in the fairy lights dangling from the roof and walls. “And call me Joel, please.”

His chest was almost touching yours, and you felt the wooden railing digging into your lower back, but at that moment you didn’t mind at all. Joel was so close, and your breath hitched in your throat when you got enveloped in his earthy smell, with a tinge of bonfire and… was that cologne? For some reason the discovery that he used cologne for tonight made your heart flutter.

But as much as you loved every second of being so close to him, you remembered that you weren’t alone on the terrace. There was a pair of people talking – well, now kissing, judging by the sound of it – and your eyes darted to the side to see if they were looking at you both. “Come on, there are people here. It’s not…”

The man clicked his tongue in disapproval and moved slightly closer, now practically pinning you against the railing with his body, and you squealed unwillingly when he, once again, made you look at him.

“Eyes on me.”

And God, if it wasn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen or heard. It was unfair how much power his gaze and tone wielded over you.

“Okay,” you managed to whimper, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards, creating that adorable dimple in his cheek.

“And my name, sugar.”

You didn't know why you were complying so easily, but something about the softness and tenderness in his voice made you feel safe. He wouldn’t hurt you, of that you were absolutely sure.

“Okay, Joel.”

His thumb brushed the edge of your bottom lip with the softest of touches, making your legs almost turn to jelly. It made you want to say his name again, though in a much more needy tone.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel murmured with a smirk, never looking away.

Lord, have mercy.

You were so grateful for the wooden rails behind your back, because you were sure you’d collapse any second now if he kept looking at you like that.

“I… Joel…”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he murmured without taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Your brain was mush at this point, but even if you could formulate any words, you doubt you’d ask him to step away. So you settled on shaking your head slightly, to which Joel nodded. “Lemme know immediately if it changes, darlin’.”

How could you be so blind? All you could think about was that Angie was right – there was no way Joel Miller wasn’t flirting with you. Maybe he even liked you. Maybe – just maybe – he wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him.

“Didn’t you wanna… get back to the party?”

You didn’t make any move to get away yourself, however, not wanting him to drop the arm with which he was holding your chin. The material of his shirt was bulging over the lines of his biceps, and it felt really nice to stand so close to him.

“I’m in no rush.” Joel’s voice dipped, and your insides tightened. “You?”

“No, but–”

“Here you are, you ol’ fucker!”

Joel took a step back, and you both turned to see his younger brother walking clumsily through the door with a big, drunken grin on his face. You cleared your throat, still breathless and blushed, but both Millers didn’t pay you any mind anymore.

“Tommy.” Joel’s face was like made out of stone, but his eyes were betraying how irritated he was with the interruption.

“You thought you’d manage to get away, ya old dog?” Tommy hooked an arm around his older brother’s shoulders and finally looked at you to send you a wink. “Sorry, sweetheart, gotta borrow ‘im for a second. He has a date to get to.”

It took you a couple of seconds to register that yes, you heard him right. A heavy veil of hurt and disbelief slowly fell down on you, and your eyes started to prickle as you looked from Tommy to Joel.

“A date?”

He had a date. Why then did he talk and act this way with you, making you feel like you ever had a chance with him?

“C’mon, don’t keep a lady waiting,” Tommy said to Joel instead of answering you, and tugged the other man back inside, but Joel didn’t move. “Who knows, maybe you��ll even get lucky tonight!”

That you couldn’t listen to.

Trying to hide how painful his words were to you, you ducked your head and tried to slip past the brothers, desperate to get out of here. A hand – which felt so achingly familiar now – shot out and grabbed your elbow before you could escape. You lifted your tearful eyes only to meet Joel’s sorrowful ones.

“Darlin’, wait. It’s not…”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted him, tearing your gaze away. “I wanted to go to the bathroom, anyway.”

Joel looked like he wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t bear being in his and Tommy’s presence any longer. You slipped out of his grasp, quickly coming back inside and navigating your way to the bathrooms.

He had a date for tonight. And still he flirted with you and touched you so lovingly, and… and almost…

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! To think you ever had a chance.

You dashed into the bathroom and quickly opened the first free stall you saw, then shut it behind you. There you just slumped against the wall and wrapped your arms around yourself, giving in to the flow of your tears, but trying not to make a sound.

You felt so foolish for letting yourself fall under Joel Miller’s spell, for ignoring that he obviously couldn’t be interested in someone like you.

He probably saw you as a dumb child. No wonder he’d prefer someone else, probably a woman closer to his own age.

But why did he have to be so cruel, to lead you on and hint that…

No, you realized. It was your own damn fault for letting your heart justify his every action towards you.

Almost ten minutes must’ve passed before you got a grip on yourself and decided to go find Angie. You needed to talk to someone, preferably distract yourself from the unpleasant situation you had to experience, and maybe try to salvage the evening somehow. With that in mind you took a couple of breaths, wiped your eyes and then hesitantly exited the bathroom.

You only managed to take a couple of steps, however, before your eyes were drawn to a familiar and beautiful side profile. You wished you didn’t know his face so well, because then you wouldn’t see Joel whispering something to a stunning woman you didn’t know at the far end of the room. She was hanging off his arm, bright eyes and a million-dollars smile directed solely at him. Joel appeared to be looking around, but a few seconds later he put his hand on the small of the woman’s back – just as he did earlier with you – and started walking. Neither of them looked your way before exiting through the front door and leaving the party.

As well as a gaping hole in your heart.

*****

A few minutes later you managed to find Angie. You were a mess at this point, barely able to stop yourself from sobbing. It was truly pathetic.

“I don’t know her name. But I saw them leaving, and she was hanging off his arm and–” you choked on your words and gave a humorless laugh. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m so sorry, hon.” Angie looked at you sadly. “We can ditch the party if you want. Go to my place and watch some movies,” she suggested gently, but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m fine, really, I… I think I'll just go home. But you should stay with your girlfriend.” Angie looked like she was about to protest, but you squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I promise I’m okay. I’m just gonna go straight back home and lock myself inside with a bowl of ice-cream. Or go to sleep.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I… I think I need to.” You gave her a weak, sad smile, and stood up. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? You have fun, I don’t want to ruin your night, too.”

“You’re not ruining anythi–”

“I mean… this. All of this stuff with,” you swallowed heavily, “him.”

Angie still seemed unconvinced, but finally nodded after a while. “Alright. But come and get me if you feel worse.”

“I promise. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, then went towards the side exit and out into the snowy night without looking back. You didn’t want to stay here and watch as all those happy couples share sweet kisses at midnight, thus reminding you of your heartbreak.

This time you had your coat on, but it was far too thin for this kind of weather. You wrapped it tighter around yourself and hid your hands in the pockets, starting to make your way home. It was a bit far from the main square, but you needed to get away from the music and laughter of the partygoers as quickly as possible.

Alas, you only managed to walk one street away when out of nowhere, a big hand grabbed your elbow, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

You turned around and took a step backwards at the same time, freeing your arm with a strong tug. The words full of anger were ready to spill out of your mouth, but that was until you saw who stood in front of you with a painful expression.

The last person you expected to see here.

“Joel?” You whispered surprisedly and looked around, but there was no one else nearby. Not that strange woman you saw him with, at least. “What are you doing here?”

“I was lookin’ for you,” he rasped between gasps, like he ran all the way here. “You weren’t at the party.”

“Why were you… What are you doing here?” you repeated more coldly, the sight of him only making your fresh heartache so much more noticeable. “I thought you left.”

“M’so sorry.” Joel’s beautiful dark eyes were full of sadness and weariness. “I would have never left you if I could help it, darlin’.”

He took half a step forward and lifted his hand slightly to graze yours with his icy-cold fingertips. You weren’t wearing any gloves either, so his touch sent a jolt up your arm. You looked down at it, but gently moved your hand away. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you have a… date?”

“No.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. You avoided his eyes and instead watched as snowflakes landed and melted in his hair. “No, it was Tommy… You saw how drunk he was, and he wanted to set me up, insisted on talking to that girl, but I…”

“You should get back to her, then,” you said dryly, really not having strength to even hide how hurtful his mere presence was. You went past him, hiding your neck in your coat. “I don’t want to keep you from–”

“Darlin’, wait.” Joel grabbed your arm again, though still gently and without any force. “Listen, she was nice, but I told her that I can’t get involved in anythin’, because I…” He faltered slightly when you looked him in the eyes, for the first time since your talk on the terrace. “There is… it’s– fuck.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. “There is someone else,” he finally spoke, his voice almost trembling, and looked at you again, “that I’m madly in love with. And it’s you.”

Through the open door to the party someone shouted what sounded like the time, but it was all happening in the background of your mind. All you could focus on was Joel, standing so close to you and looking almost scared as he waited for your reaction.

Cold crept up your limbs and up to your cheeks while you tried to digest what the hell you just heard, but as if held by the invisible force of his gaze, you couldn’t move an inch.

“...what?”

“I… really, really like you,” Joel whispered, his dark and sad eyes drilling into your unbelieving ones. “I went to this party just to see you, darlin’. And I’d never chose to spend the evenin’ with anyone else but you. I’m so sorry I left you like that and…”

He then gulped and very slowly lifted his hand to your face, not fully cupping your cheek but hovering just above it. He searched your eyes, but when you didn’t back away, he touched your skin carefully, and an involuntary sigh escaped you as your eyes fluttered closed.

You never thought one could be touched with such care and fondness. No one has ever treated you like that before, like you were made of the most precious glass.

“You can tell me to fuck off,” Joel whispered, and you opened your eyes to find his face a little closer than before. “I just thought that maybe… if you would maybe, too…”

He was getting flustered again, and it was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. It must’ve been close to midnight now, because you noticed that the music stopped and the racket inside the building was at its peak, though it was hard to distinguish the words people were shouting when your heartbeat was almost deafening in your ears.

“But I saw you leaving with that woman.” You had to make sure you were on the same page with him before you did something idiotic. Again. “You aren’t…?”

“No,” Joel breathed a quiet chuckle and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, while his eyes danced across your face. “It’s only ever been you, darlin’.”

Then he must’ve heard something – his head turned to the side to look at where the party was still going on, before his eyes returned to you, and you felt his thumb swiping your cheek in an oh, so tender manner.

“May I?” he asked in a whisper, so close that his breath skimmed your parted lips. You hoped he was asking about what you thought, but this time wasn’t brave enough to ask and clarify.

So you just nodded.

And Joel leaned in, without any hurry, and kissed you.

It was fitting, you supposed, that only a couple of seconds later the clock chimed midnight, and shrieks of laughter and cheers filled the air while the people still present at the party celebrated loudly. You couldn’t care less, however, because in that moment, your entire world was Joel. His – still cold – hand caressed your scorching cheek, and the other found its place on your hip. The smell of him, the warmth with which his body radiated, and the feeling of his lips, rougher in touch than you’ve imagined, but still soft in movement – all of it together was almost overwhelming.

You parted after a while with blissful sighs, though didn’t move away – Joel still held you close, his forehead pressed to yours, and eyes shut tightly, as if he was in pain. He took a trembling breath when you touched his jaw with your icy fingers.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded in a murmur, taking you aback. “Sugar, if you don’t… Please, tell me to stop.”

You shook your head and held onto him tighter before he even finished.

“Please, don’t stop.”

Your lips clashed again, tongues meeting and dancing together, and it was the closest you’ve ever felt to any type of heaven in this cruel, forsaken world. Joel pulled you flush against him and kissed you again, more forcefully this time, tangling his fingers in your hair. You let out an involuntary moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound immediately, not giving you a split second of respite.

“I wanted to do it a year ago,” Joel muttered between the kisses, before he took your face in his hands to look you in the eyes properly. He smiled, that same adorable and boyish smile, when he saw how breathless and flushed you were. “Wanted to kiss you so much, sugar, but,” he obviously fought back a laugh at this point, his eyes crinkling, “you got wasted and puked your guts out just before midnight.”

“Oh my god.” You didn’t know he saw it, particularly the moment when all the alcohol you consumed a year ago refused to stay in your stomach. “I wasn’t– I don’t usually… I got drunk ‘cause I saw Sheryll kissing you on the cheek,” you admitted with embarrassment, feeling your skin growing even hotter. “I thought you and her were together at that point…”

“But why did you get drunk because of it, sweet girl?” Joel mused, brushing his nose against yours and obviously teasing you. You snorted and shook your head.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You playfully pushed him away lightly, but he tightened his grip around you, not letting you step away.

“You’re an asshole sometimes,” you whispered, making Joel chuckle. “Fine. I really wanted to kiss you, too. Happy?”

He smiled and kissed you again, softly and passionately this time, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“Very,” he whispered against your lips and dragged his nose up to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Very much, baby.”

Your heart fluttered with joy at his affectionate tone. Joel pulled away, his hands leaving your body to cover your own, situated on his jaw and arm.

“Now, what do you say we head back inside?” he asked with a disarming smile, brushing your knuckles with his thumbs. “And maybe you’ll let me ask you for a dance?”

You didn’t give an answer, but the joyous kiss you pressed to his lips – which, with your enthusiasm, almost made both of you topple over into the snow – spoke for itself.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller fluff

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satorusugurugurl · 28 days

Text

Blueberry Pancakes

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Reader

Word Count: 633

Warning: Pancake fail, nothing just fluff!

A/N: I was working on a Geto fic for Fluff Friday but I feel like we all needed a little fluffy Choso in our life! 🥲

The morning sun shone through your bedroom window, causing you to stir in bed. Slowly lifting your head, you grumbled, noticing that your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Your fingers sped across the bed, feeling his lingering warmth, which meant he wasn’t far away. Letting the sheet fall from your bare body, you grabbed his shirt from the ground, slipping it on along with a clean pair of his boxers.

As you snapped the band over your hips, you heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by a curse and the smell of something burning. Hurrying out, you walked into a slightly smokey kitchen, finding Choso with his back turned to you. One hand held the handle of his frying pan while the other tried scrapping at something in the pan with a spatula.

You said nothing, joining his side as you peered into the pan. Inside was, well, something? It was lumpy, charred, and full of blueberries.

“Cho?”

“Yeah?” The spatula aggressively smacked and prodded at the substance in the pan.

“What are you doing?”

“I was trying to make pancakes.” Your boyfriend winced as the ‘pancake’ bubbled a mysterious smokey bubble. “But well, it uh—” this time the substance hissed, “it didn’t exactly go as planned? I’m pretty sure I’ve failed at making food, yet succeeded in making a cursed spirit out of pancake mix.”

You glanced at the bag full of blueberries and the bowl of batter he’d made. You’d told him how much you wanted blueberry pancakes the previous night. You felt like he reached into your chest and squeezed your heart. He was too flipping cute! So cute, you reached up gently, biting his cheek.

Choso sighed softly, allowing you to nibble at his cheek with a gentle smile. “I suppose you eating my cheek would be more suitable instead of,” the lumpy concoction hissed again, “well, this.” It bubbled more until you stepped in, removing the pan from the heat.

“No worries, we got this.” You scraped the hissing smoking substance into the sink before wiping the pan out. “Let’s see.” You eyes his batter. “All it needs is a little TLC.”

Choso helped you fix the batter, adding more water, sugar, and vanilla to the lumpy substance. Once you deemed it suitable, you sprayed the pan with non-stick spray, poured in the batter, and handed some blueberries to Choso. He patiently waited until tiny bubbles formed at the top before he added them in, making the cutest little smiley face.

“And now we flip!” Choso watched in awe as you flipped the pancake over with a flick.

Choso’s eyes glittered with childlike excitement. “Amazing!” His eyes watched as you lipped the pancake again.

“Yeah?” His warm eyes were focused solely on you. “I should put pancake flipping on my resume.”

Choso shook his head, stepping behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. “I wasn't talking about the pancake flipping.” His lips gently pressed against your cheek. “I was talking about you.” Tuck your face felt like it was on fire at Choso’s words.

“I think you're pretty amazing yourself, Cho.”

“Even though I made a cursed spirit out of pancake batter and blueberries?”

“Especially because of that.”

That was god's honest truth, and Choso knew it too. He smiled wide before leaning in and biting your cheek, winning your giggle. In the warm rays of light that morning, you and Choso stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with your lover's arms wrapped around you—one of the best mornings of your entire life.

Forever Tag List!

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?”

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man.

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone.

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

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— MY YOU

SUMMARY : part v of gimme half. the first valentine’s day with dean winchester and he is just absolutely adorable… for like the first half of this fic, the other half is filthy.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v

WORD COUNT : 1.9k

A/N : jung kook song title. my you is why I have the #my dean ✨ tag ☺️ I don’t know if I named the cat before, but the cat's name is Mona-Lisa now and he’s a boy! oh and happy birthday @girls-alias💓

When you got home from work you didn’t expect to open the door to your cat, Mona-Lisa, frolicking in a path of colourful rose petals leading up to your bedroom. You smiled at the sight of him as you stepped out of your heels and shoved them into the corner with your foot—next to Dean’s boots—to put away later.

Mona-Lisa had a few red and pink petals stuck to his sharp teeth and some stuck to his soft, furry body, but he gladly accepted his fate when you picked him up in your arms. Dean was the culprit behind the romantic scene of your darkened home and it made you smile, your stomach jittery despite never really giving a damn about some stupid love holiday.

Mona-Lisa’s cute paws rested on your shoulders and his nose nuzzled into your hair before he decided to take a bite out of your shoulder when you continued to carry him up the steps. It was a soft and playful bite for the most part, and it made you laugh.

When you got to your bedroom, where you suspected Dean was waiting for you, Mona-Lisa sprung from your arms to get through the barely-opened door. Dean had his back to the door and a lighter in his hand that he used to light one of the many candles he’d placed in your bedroom.

“Wow, if there’s a fire, I’m suing you,” you teased with a grin, watching Dean turn around carefully to avoid stepping on Mona-Lisa—who was walking in circles around Dean’s feet with his tail up.

Dean smiled shyly, clearly caught off guard. “Hey,” he greeted you, placing the lighter next to the candle he just lit. You walked towards him and let him wrap his arms around you while his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “Happy Valentine’s Day?” He shrugged, sounding a little unsure of whether or not he was supposed to say that. “Should I have asked you to be my Valentine? I- uh, I’ve never done this before,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

You cupped his flushed cheeks and brought him down for a kiss that made his shoulders drop. Dean breathed softly against your lips and melted into you. His hands moved down to your hips and they flexed over the softness of your dress before he pulled you closer to him.

“I… I don’t think you need to ask,” you smiled, kissing him softly when he dove back in for more.

“Then… what do you think?” He chuckled, slowly sliding his hands down to your ass. He squeezed gently and you bit your lip, hesitantly looking away from his adorably flustered face to admire his work. “I’m not being cheap,” he began to explain himself, “I was just, uh- well, I didn’t know if you were the type to want to celebrate Valentine’s Day— not that there’s anything wrong with that— and I really just did this last minute for you. You know, in case you were into this t-”

“Dean,” you interrupted his rambling with a small giggle. He exhaled and forced a laugh to convince you that he was being cool. “I love it, and.. you look so cute standing right here like this, so stop overthinking it,” you reassured him, gripping his flannel to pull him down for a longer, deeper kiss to express your gratitude.

Dean’s hands moved lower to your thighs and you felt him bend his knees just as he titled his head, parting from your lips for a quick breath. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you in his arms, and your legs squeezed his hips.

You buried your fingers into his hair, moaning against his mouth. His hands moved along your back, over your legs, squeezing and kneading. He moved towards the bed, stopping momentarily when his knees hit the mattress.

He held you tight and lowered you onto the bed carefully, his lips hovering above yours. His green eyes travelled over your face and you averted your gaze as if it would stop him. Your hands slipped away from his hair, your legs fell open, and you turned your head to the side, relaxing despite the nervous thud of your heart.

Dean’s lips latched on to your neck, his stubble scraped over your soft skin. Your eyes fell shut and you shivered. Arousal began to warm up your body and dampen your underwear. Dean nipped at your skin, pressed hot, open-mouth kisses over the skin not covered by your dress, flicked his tongue over your skin.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?�� You whispered, grabbing a handful of flower petals and candy from the bed before letting it fall back down. Dean slowly turned away from your chest with a playful laugh getting muffled against your skin.

“I stole those roses from Poppy, or whatever her name is, two houses down. And… those are the leftover chocolates from the Halloween bucket… and… well, I always have candles just in case,” he told you, nuzzling the side of his face into your breasts. You smirked at him, but then your eyes softened when he looked up at you, his thick lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.

“Hunting stuff?” You asked, sneaking your hands under his warm flannel to push it off his shoulders. Dean pushed himself off you to shrug the thick shirt off his body and you bit your lip. His t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and his jeans did the same over his taught thighs. “Are you wearing cute Valentine’s Day lingerie underneath?” You teased, hooking your fingers on his belt loops to tug him closer between your legs.

“N-no? Should I?” He teased back, teasingly letting his fingers glide along the inside of your thighs.

“Next time,” you murmured, pulling his belt with a pout.

“Next time,” he breathed out a laugh, undoing his belt with one hand and lifting your dress up your thighs with the other. “Are you? Wearing pink lingerie underneath?” Dean hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and waited for you to respond before tugging them down.

“No,” you grinned.

“Good, I would’ve ripped it off you anyway.” And he did just that, in one swift move, your underwear tore audibly, and he threw it over to the floor carelessly.

“Poppy’s going to kill you for damaging her roses,” you mumbled against his lips—which were stretched into a mischievous smile. Dean slowly pulled away with a few final pecks to your lips and started going down your body, his breath puffing over your glistening cunt.

“Only if she finds out it was me,” he hummed, his warm tongue licking up from your entrance to your clit. You gasped and pressed your head deeper into the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands gripping his hair.

Dean made you come twice, once with his thumb on your swollen clit and his tongue inside your pulsing walls, and a second time with his tongue on your clit and three of his fingers inside your used cunt.

You whined and whimpered his name as your body convulsed and your legs shook beside his head after each orgasm. Your body couldn’t handle much more, but Dean was persistent, encouraging and comforting you.

He paused momentarily as you caught your breath. Your head buzzed and your vision was blurry, your heart pounded in your ears, and your skin was flushed. Dean bunched your dress at your waist, your nipples were hard and sensitive from his mouth and his fingers, but goddamn, you wanted more.

You could feel Dean’s gentle fingers on your sloppy cunt, soothingly brushing his thumb around your overstimulated clit. His tongue lapped at yours and you could taste yourself in his mouth, his lips were glossed with your release, but you didn’t care.

You weakly held his taut biceps, your nails clawed at the hard muscles as they moved with every dip of his body into you. The cotton of his t-shirt brushed against your pebbled nipples causing you to shudder and moan into his skillful mouth.

“One more,” he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip before pushing three of his fingers back into your slick pussy. You inhaled sharply and scratched his arms when he knowingly curled his fingers into that same spot inside you over and over.

“Dammit… Dean,” you sobbed, your body tensing, head turning to the side. Your stomach fluttered with excitement despite the shake of your legs on either side of Dean’s hips and the quivering of your cunt. Dean breathed heavily above you, his chin tucked into his chest as he stared shamelessly between your legs.

He continued to thrust his fingers into you, shallowly and precise, driven by the pornographic sound of his fingers plunging into your wet heat and the breathy sounds of pleasure you made. Your hands twisting in his shirt and you cried from how sensitive you were, only partially amused because it felt so good all at once.

Your body was overflowed with so much happiness and pleasure that you completely let go as your third orgasmed seized your body. A moan of Dean’s name caught in your throat and all that left your kiss swollen lips was a strangled sound of bliss.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered against your jaw, his eyes fixed between your legs, “that’s right, sweetheart.” His teeth sank into your jawline and you felt him slide down between your legs. He used his tongue to lap up your release from your dripping pussy and kissed your thighs adoringly.

“I…” you exhaled, eyes opening slowly to look down at Dean between the wet mess between your legs. “Fuck, d-did I..?” You couldn’t finish the sentence as embarrassment burned at your cheeks, but Dean looked more than pleased with himself as he licked his fingers clean of your fluids.

“Yup, and it was hot,” he smirked, which magically made you feel slightly better about squirting. Dean pulled the dress from your waist, nearly yanking it down your weak legs to join your ruined underwear on the floor.

You sat up carefully, frowning at the wetness on the bed that Dean didn’t really care about. He pulled his shirt over his head and you imagined that you literally drooled at the sight of him and his flushed skin. It was covered in freckles and scars, and it always managed to look pretty and hot. You snapped out of your trance when he unbuttoned his jeans and started unzipping them.

“You said one more,” you complained with a laugh, watching him slip out of bed to remove his jeans and boxers properly. You changed your mind when you saw Dean’s cock, the way it throbbed and bounced as he climbed back into bed between your legs. The wet tip was glistening with smeared precum that continued to dribble out of the slit. “…But I’m glad you lied,” you grinned, pushing Dean onto his back when you kissed him.

“I didn’t lie…” he pouted, his dimples deepening above his lips. You tilted your head and gazed down at him with an expression of amusement on your face, your eyes glittering with internal laughter. “…I… just lost count ‘cause you’re so hot.”

Dean smoothly slipped out from underneath you and draped himself over your back. He kissed your shoulders and lifted your hips to position his cock at your soppy entrance. You moaned instantly when he pushed himself inside you, silky skin sinking easily into your wet cunt.

“Waffles for dinner?” He panted into your ear, the grin on his face seeping into his voice.

“Yup,” you moaned, reaching between your legs where Dean’s fingers were toying with your sensitive clit.

➥

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

Perfect Timing

Rating: General CW: References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Dialogue Heavy

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is having hope for the future together."

💕—————💕

Steve was sitting at the dining table, hands spread out on the surface, staring down at a piece of mail when he heard Eddie clamber through the front door. Based on the string of things being dropped and Eddie not reacting negatively, just sighing a little bit and picking things up, must mean he was having a good day.

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air.

And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

See, Eddie was out playing a demo tape for a small record company based here in Chicago. A little indie place that’s been looking to expand their music catalogue from contemporary to a broader lick of alternative genres. Which, it turns out, includes thrash and heavy metal. Which, Steve adores, Eddie is amazing at performing.

But, Steve? He’s been anxiously waiting all day for the mail to arrive. Biting down on his fingernails, chewing them up so much they bleed and he has to run his fingertips under lukewarm water. Pacing the carpet of the living room. Pushing down and peering through the eggshell blinds. Biting his fingernails, again. And then it came and now he’s at their dining table and now he’s waiting for Eddie to careen around the corner and kiss his hair and ask in his greeting Steve voice, “What’s this, baby?”

“What’s this, baby?” Steve hears from above him. He jumps a little bit. Maybe he should have put on music or something, try to get himself to stay grounded in the present. “Stevie?” Eddie calls.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stutters. “It’s a letter I got in the mail, but I—I wanna hear about your demo tape.” Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. A little furrow to his eyebrows, a frown. “The letter isn’t anything bad, I read it already. But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Eddie hums, nodding in slow understanding. He slides into the dining seat across from Steve. Mirroring his position. Then, he realizes, based on whatever face Steve makes, that it’s only anxiety inducing. He sets his chin in his right palm, stretching the other onto the table for Steve to take. Waiting patiently. And says, when Steve actually grabs back, “It went really well, sweetheart. They offered me a contract.”

“That’s great news, Eds! What did—Did you sign it? Please tell me you signed it.”

Then, Eddie sighs. And Steve shrinks a little. “I did,” he tells slowly, as if testing the words for the first time. “I signed it. They’re keeping me based here. I’ll start recording next Saturday.” He squeezes at Steve’s hand.

“What’s the long face for, then?”

“I’m not making a face,” Eddie feebly argues.

“You are!” And Steve mocks him. Frowning, eyes distant to the surface of the table, bunching his eyebrows impossibly farther down his face. His shoulders slump. “That’s what you did! What happened? Were they pieces of shit to you or something? Did they like—Are they underselling your music prowess or something? Do I need to kick their—“

Eddie chuckles. His laughter like honey. “Babe, breathe for me,” he whispers. “My only issue is that—“ But he cuts himself off there. He leans in across the table. Eyes down at the letter in front of Steve. “That’s a letter from the community college, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hands back, laying them palm down on the paper. He swallows thickly. “It is. Why?”

“Did you get in?”

“I’m not telling you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You telling me determines whether or not I have a genuine problem. So…Did you get into the college that you’ve been looking at forlorn every time we drive by it? Or did you not and I need to go kick some old people ass?” His eyes are large in earnest. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His hair curtaining his face, making his facial features impossibly darker, shadowed by something tricky.

Steve chews on his lip. “I got in,” he mutters. “I got into their English literature program. And once I’m done with that, I transfer. And once I transfer, I start classes at a four year. I’ll be studying English literature and secondary education,” he rambles. His fingers tap over the letter. “Is that…Does that ruin your whole music dream? I don’t want to be the reason that you chase something else.”

For a moment, the room goes scary still and silent. Eddie’s facial features soften. And Steve’s heart rabbits against his ribcage. Hard enough that he slides a palm over his t-shirt, massaging at the rapid beating, hoping that he doesn’t have a heart attack on the third floor of their complex. That would suck, he thinks bitterly. And my future would be done for.

He sits back in his chair. Anxiety thrumming under his skin when Eddie still doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at him like he’s…Like he’s planning an entire five lifetimes with Steve. Like he’s about to sweep Steve off his feet, chuck him over the side of their mattress, give him hickeys until he’s a mottled lovesick mess, and then get down on one knee and surrender his heart to Steve’s hands. Like he’s gonna propose something wonderful like marriage. And, maybe, Steve lets himself believe something crazy like that.

“Remember when I told you that I consider marriage as a possibility?” Eddie asks abruptly.

And, goddamnit, if Eddie does something crazy and stupid like propose right now, Steve may just throw up out of excitement. How embarrassing, he thinks. And he chuckles despite that.

“I do,” he finds himself whispering. “What does this—“

“And I considered it with you. And I held you close and you cried against my lips and we made love like we were the only people in the universe? Remember all the times that you’d lay on top of me out of contentment? All the times I’d hold you close to my chest? All the times you kissed over my heart, like it was the only thing keeping us tethered to the moment?”

Nervously, Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I remember all that. What is your point with—“

“Fucking margarita nights. You’re a sweet drunk, d’you know that? Like almost unbearably sweet.” Eddie scoots his chair around the table. Setting it next to Steve, on his left. And his hands come into Steve’s field of view. Gathering Steve’s palms in his, squeezing and caressing the skin. “All the times in which we thought that this apartment was all that we had.” He shakes his head, smirking, snickering like this intense reaction he’s having is something funny to Steve.

Fact of the matter, Steve is scared shitless right now. What if this is his way of breaking up, he can’t help himself from wondering. Cruel. He swallows against the lump in his throat. Words escaping him.

“I want to marry you so bad,” Eddie swears. “Wanna do the whole ceremony. And the paper signing. And the honeymoon, but in some little cabin on a mountain. Where we load the fireplace with wood and we huddle in for warmth and we sip at rich cups of Uncle Wayne’s hot chocolate. And then, in a few years time, when we’ve financially recovered from the wedding, we’ll buy a house.

“We’ll buy a house and paint it yellow,” he promises. Steve begins to cry, something silent, but can’t pinch his nose to stop himself. “It’ll be yellow because that’s your favorite color. With white shutters. And a big backyard for a dog or two. Wrap around porch so that we can sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets.” He takes a deep breath that sounds a little nasally. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning,” he continues, “serve you a fresh bowl of strawberries, ones that you grow under the big front window of our house. I’ll kiss you all over the face, like I do now, and you’ll grumble that it’s too early and then you’ll smell the bacon and you’ll give me your stupid sleepy smile that makes my heart do funny little flips and you’ll kiss me on the mouth and it’ll be disgusting because you haven’t brushed your teeth.

“And I’ll be a very happy man.” Eddie’s breath trembles in his chest. He swallows hard. Steve wonders if he can hear his own shaky breath. Or if he’s too involved in whatever this is. “I’ll be so happy,” he whispers, “And I’ll find myself thinking, how did I ever get so lucky? But it isn’t luck. And it isn’t fate. It was trauma that forced us together and I’ll laugh about it. But then I’ll sigh because who the fuck cares how we started all of this?

“You’ll be a funky middle school English teacher. With your nicely done hair and a sweater vest and some khakis. I’ll be a musician, hopefully. But, every day you’ll have a small lunch; an orange that I made you peel but I removed the pulp from, a tuna salad sandwich because you’re my fish loving dork, and a bottle of water. I’ll leave you a note everyday telling you how proud I am because I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

“I’m proud of you, Steve, d’you know that? So much.” He laughs wetly. His eyes staring down at their interlocked hands. “All this to say that I’m proud of you. That I’m happy. We’ve got a future, sweetheart. And I want to be your husband. Will you—“ He swallows once more, thick and heavy and almost painful looking. Can love hurt when it’s this sweet?

Eddie finally looks up. His eyes glistening and his cheeks wet and his skin tinted pink. His eyelashes stuck together. Nose dripping only slightly. He’s a messy crier, but Steve doesn’t fare any better. “Will you marry me, Steve? Stay by my side and we’ll accomplish our dreams together?” His voice is soft. Enamored.

Unbelievable, Steve swallows back. Because how did he get somebody like Eddie in his life? How did he manage to find love and have it promised back at him?

“Yes, Eddie,” he gasps out. “God, holy shit.” He drops his hands from Eddie’s hold, instead wrapping them around his torso. Muffled into Eddie’s shoulder, “All this just because I’m finally figuring my shit out? God.”

Eddie cackles, burying his own face in Steve’s hair. They sway a little. “I just—“ Eddie begins whispering. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Every time seemed right, but this one? Baby, this one was perfect.”

Steve sighs into the embrace. Content to not say anything else. Except, “I’m proud of you, too, honey. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, love bug. God, Steve, I love you, too.”

For the first time since 1983, Steve allows himself to truly settle in for a future. A future, he knows, he’ll be especially proud of.

💕—————💕 Fun fact, I accidentally deleted this whole ficlet when I was copying and pasting. Hit the spacebar and watched it disappear in front of my eyes. But I figured out how to get it back, not before almost throwing up on myself out of anger. Love y'all <3

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 12 #fluff #domestic fluff #domestic steddie #<3

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astrxq · 11 months

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okay luna, more spider-man ethan!!! just top of my head, maybe you could write your version of the upside down kiss? cause i know you would write it so sweet and lovesickly!!!!

also luna…when i post my ethan fics can i tag you??? since i feel like we’re a handful of people trying to still keep ethan landry alive (in this world) ANYWAY LOVE YOY💗💗💗💗

superhero etiquette

spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader

words: 2.9k

notes: yesss!!!! pls tag me, i'm in need of ethan fics. warnings: (mentions of spiders, kissing. i think that's it??) not proofread

"Bug boy?" he repeated the nickname you'd just given him, the white eyes on his mask mimicking his surprised expression. "I'm more of an arachnid."

You hummed, smirking at him before looking forward to the streetlights, your legs kicking back and forth from the edge of the building. "Arachnid, huh?" you responded playfully, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Mr. Arachnid," you corrected.

You tapped your fingers on the rooftop, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I used to have a friend who owned a pet spider."

His masked face turned to you, intrigue evident even without seeing his real expression. "Oh, really?" he replied, genuinely interested.

You chuckled. "Yeah. She named it Leggy. It was this big, hairy tarantula that she would let crawl all over her arms and everything. She used to say that Leggy had more personality than most people she knew."

The masked hero tilted his head slightly, a small smile forming beneath his mask. "She insisted that I held it once, and I almost cried," you continued, and he snorted a laugh, making the voice modifier glitch for a second. "Hey, don't laugh," you retorted, lightly punching his arm. "It was huge and hairy, okay? Not exactly my cup of tea. But my friend loved that spider like it was her own child."

"Leggy, huh? Maybe I should change my name to that," he shook his head. "Spider-Man sounds kind of lame now." You laughed, and he turned to stare at you for a beat.

"Nah, Spider-Man has a nice ring to it. Plus, it's become pretty iconic. Leggy might give people the wrong idea," you said, teasingly nudging him with your elbow.

He chuckled, the sound muffled by his mask. "Yeah, you're probably right. Can you imagine the headlines? 'Leggy spins a web of justice!' It doesn't have the same impact."

Spider-Man nodded thoughtfully, his eyes pretending to focus on something in the distance the second you turned to look at him, catching him staring. A gentle breeze swept across the rooftop, rustling your hair as you both sat in companionable silence.

"How'd you learn how to swing with those?" you asked, pointing at his wrists. Ethan raised his eyebrows from under the mask in surprise at your interest. "By falling, a lot."

"I can picture that," you said, grinning. The hero moved a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch."

You smirked, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, Mr. Arachnid. I'm sure you've mastered the art of falling gracefully by now," you replied with a playful wink.

Ethan faked a laugh. "You're hilarious."

"Oh, I try my best," you said, playfully batting your eyelashes. "But seriously, swinging through the city like you do must be exhilarating. I can only imagine the adrenaline rush you get."

"It's definitely something else," Ethan replied, smirking once he felt the idea pop into his head. "So… wanna try it?" You widened your eyes at that, wanting to take back your words immediately. "Uh, no. My mom must be waiting for me inside."

"It's 4 a.m."

"Still. She could come into my room and not find me there; she'd freak." Ethan tilted his head, and the mask's bug eyes narrowed as he held back a laugh. He nodded, knowing fully well you were lying through your teeth, and he stood up, offering his hand to help.

Once you were on your feet, ready to say your goodbyes, you felt the gloved hands reach for your waist, pulling you towards the masked boy. You thought he was going to kiss you, just for a second, and then Ethan stretched one of his arms out and leaned down to quickly whisper a "Hold on tight" before a web shot out of the gadget on his wrist, making you yelp.

"No, no, no," you exclaimed as you felt the wind hit your face. You were swinging with Spider-Man, and you were hating it. "Open your eyes, come on!" he said, noticing that you had forced them shut the second your feet were lifted off the ground. "I hate you, I hate you."

"Come on, Y/N! You can't even see where we're swinging!"

"God, this is horrible." The hand that was holding onto his neck tightened, and you uncovered your eyes to wrap another arm around him, trying to steady yourself.

He chuckled, the thrill of the moment evident in his voice. "You'll thank me later, I promise! Besides, you're doing great! Look, you're a natural swinger already!"

"I don't care!" you yelled back, trying to ignore the adrenaline coursing through you. "Just get me back to that rooftop! I'm not cut out for this superhero stuff."

"Don't worry, I got you," Ethan assured, adjusting his web-swinging trajectory to head back to the rooftop you both came from. The city lights below looked like a blur as you swung through the night sky.

As you finally landed back on the rooftop, you staggered a bit, your legs feeling like jelly. Spider-Man steadied you, his grip reassuring. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, a teasing tone still present in his voice.

"You're insane, you know that?" you replied, trying to catch your breath. "I hated that."

"You would've loved it if you'd kept your eyes open!"

"Yeah, well, I'd be perfectly content experiencing the city from ground level, thank you very much," you replied, still trying to steady your racing heart with a hand on your chest. Ethan panted as well, hands on his hips as he smiled widely under his mask.

Girls didn't really look at Ethan. He knew he wasn't an ugly boy, and Chad kept reminding him that he was a treat to the eye, but he was incredibly awful at flirting or talking, or something so small such as being near girls. Seeing so many people crushing on Spider-Man gave him the confidence boost he needed; he liked the attention. Whenever he saw himself on the news, he'd sneakily turn up the volume to hear what people said about him, and whenever Chad had a fanboy moment about the masked spider-hero, he'd have to hide his smile.

Ethan's thoughts swirled as he watched you catch your breath, completely unaware of his internal dilemma. The excitement of swinging through the city with you, even if you were initially terrified, had been an unexpected rush for him. But now, as he saw you standing there, a mixture of annoyance and amusement in your eyes, he couldn't help but wish he had met you under different circumstances.

He wondered if you'd like Ethan Landry as much as Spider-Man, if you'd also spend your nights chatting on your rooftop with him if you had met him with his mask off.

"Earth to Leggy," you snapped your fingers in front of the mask's eyes. You saw how his face scrunched up, mentally cursing himself for being caught staring, and you felt your body heat up to your ears at

a shyer version of the hero. "Leggy?" he asked.

"You're right; Bug boy sounds way better."

Ethan tilted his head a little bit, trying to get a good look at you as the city lights hit your face just enough for him to see every detail. "Oh, you're gone again," you said, noticing him zoning off.

"Sorry, I'm keeping you up. You should go rest," you immediately added, taking a step back. "N-no, it's okay," Ethan stammered, feeling flustered by the way you caught him daydreaming.

"I mean, I'm used to being up late, you know, patrolling the city and all. Sleep isn't a big deal for me," he tried to play it cool, but his nerves were getting the best of him. The hands that had been resting on his hips were now awkwardly crossed over his chest.

You didn't really believe him; to you, he was just tired. Him daydreaming about being with you was the last of your thoughts; he was Spider-Man, after all.

"Okay," you whispered once he took two steps closer to where you stood. You felt your breath get caught in your throat, his scent taking over you. "Uhm��" you tried to think of ways to keep the conversation going, your mind going suddenly blank because of him.

"I… I held Leggy once."

"You've said," his voice sounded huskier as he stared down at you through his mask. You felt kind of silly, staring at a red mask full of web patterns and wide, white eyes. You wished he'd take it off, just to see who was the boy you'd been pining over for months, to see him just once. "Yeah… veeery hairy spider," you continued.

He nodded, and reached one of his hands up to your waist, just testing the waters. Your pajama shirt rode up slightly because of the texture of his glove, and you shivered at his hand touching your skin, even if it was covered by that annoying suit. Ethan stared down at his hand, pondering if he should rip out the cloth just to actually feel your skin.

When you didn't make a move to separate from him, he took a deep breath and, with his free hand, he pulled his mask up. Not all the way, you could only see his nose and his mouth, and a few curly hairs that stuck out from the back of his head and from under his ears. Ethan bit his bottom lip, contemplating showing you his whole face, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

So he dropped the hand down to yours, linking your fingers together as you stared at every feature of his face available to you. He had a button nose, a few freckles near it, and you were certain that the mask still hid many more. His lips were chapped, like he'd been biting on them for a while, the bits of hair you could see seemed very healthy, and you felt like a freak for wondering what shampoo he used, if it smelled like him.

Your breath got heavier, just by looking at him. And Ethan finally let go of his own lip, parting them slightly. You moved your hand to his wrist, holding yourself up while you got on your tiptoes. You were close, so close, and you tightened your hold on his arm.

Ethan yelped when the web-shooter shot a tissue up to the yellow construction crane that towered over your building, making him shoot up along with it. You stared up at him, cheeks hot in embarrassment.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," your voice cracked just a bit in shame as Ethan struggled to untie the webs that had swept him up. "It's fine!" he called out, finally dropping down to you. Upside down, one hand holding onto the string, along with his legs, and his free one doing a thumbs up. Well, a thumbs down from your point of view.

When Ethan realized, he flipped it around, and you smiled. He finally cracked into a grin, and you felt like your air was knocked away, taken back by his beautiful smile. He was gorgeous, the small part of his face you could actually see was gorgeous.

"C'mere," he said, reaching his free hand out to your arm, pulling you in so your face was met with his, finally at the same height, even if he was upside down. "The blood will rush to your head if you stay like this for long," you said nervously, feeling kind of shaky.

He shrugged. "Eh, Bug boy can handle it."

"Oh, is that your superhero excuse for everything now?" you teased, trying to lighten the tension between you two. Ethan chuckled softly, and you noticed his cheeks tinting slightly, even under the mask.

"Maybe," he replied playfully. Before you could think of a response, he reached for your face, awkwardly cradling it with only one hand and pulling you closer. You stumbled two small steps forward until your nose brushed against his. And he licked his lips before giving you another toothy grin which you were sure would knock you off your feet if you weren't so focused on imagining how he was going to kiss you, instead.

You opened your mouth, ready to say whatever nonsense was going through your head, but he stopped you by pressing a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling away and tilting his head to get a better angle. He let out a warm breath into your mouth as he relaxed into the kiss.

Afraid of him falling, you held his arm with your hand, your other one going to the side of his face to push his lips even closer to yours. He chuckled against your mouth, making you smile as well. Ethan's arm was growing tired, and his kisses started to get more sloppy and wet as he pushed himself closer to you, almost snapping the web in half by the pressure.

You pulled back, a small string of saliva separating you and Ethan as he grinned. His mask's eyes narrowing, showing you just how his smile covered his whole face. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special," you said, playfully wiping the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand.

"Sorry about that," Ethan said, still grinning. "I guess I got carried away."

You couldn't help but giggle at his adorable and slightly awkward response. "No worries, Bug boy," you teased, poking his chest playfully. "I think you've still got some superhero etiquette to learn."

"Oh, I'll make sure to work on my superhero kissing skills," he replied, feigning seriousness as he put a hand to his heart before gracefully dropping on his feet.

"Good to know," you chuckled. He licked the inside of his cheek, cheekily smiling at you as you teased him. He took one step closer and wrapped his arm around your waist, giving you one more wet kiss on the lips and then moving to your cheek before pulling his mask down fully. "Sorry," he mumbled.

But the way you stared up at him with a smile made him put the cloth up again, pecking your lips four times before stepping back. "Okay. I'm done," he promised, and you chuckled as he tightened his hands into fists, clearly struggling not to touch you again.

You couldn't help but laugh at Ethan's adorable struggle to control himself.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion x reader #jack champion #scream #ghostface #spiderman x reader #ethan landry x you #spiderman #ethan landry smut

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