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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel."

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

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," she echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're daunted.

"Whatever you want," you say.

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

"I don't know. Without?"

"You are so weird," he says happily.

You pout and pull Junie closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't tempt me."

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

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

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?"

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

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-"

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

"I guess she's old enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing.

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

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

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

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

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I saw."

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?"

"Subtle."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" Junie asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," she whines softly.

He covers her unhappy face with his hand.

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

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

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

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something.

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie loves Junie.

He knows it for a fact.

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

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

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

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

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

Junie lifts her flushed face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants."

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

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

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

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie.

She raises both arms.

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

"You okay?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

It's a cool, crisp night outside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's true."

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

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

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

"I think I can do it by now."

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?"

"Kiss it better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie?" you ask.

He turns. You look miserable.

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

"Thank you."

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

You look visibly embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I should go home."

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

"Can you hug me?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ow," you whine.

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

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

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

"No!"

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

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

"I'm not sitting in your lap."

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

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

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

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

Long minutes of quiet hugs.

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

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

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

"I wasn't," you say.

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page.

You get really, really sick.

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

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

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

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

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

And now here he is again the day after.

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

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

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

"This is just something I had lying around."

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

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

"That is in terrible taste."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks.

You grin to yourself.

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

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

"Fun," she says.

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

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

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

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

"Don't baby me."

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

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

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

"What does she want for dinner tonight?"

"Boo! Exactly my point."

"I'm gonna go ask her-"

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

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

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

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

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

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

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

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

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

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-"

"Mild-"

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

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

"On a Saturday?"

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

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

"I promised."

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

"You can't."

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

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

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

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

"Why don't I believe you?"

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

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

"Name-calling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Freckle."

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

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

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

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

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

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

"I said, 'You're an-"

"Amazing friend and confidante?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes.

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

"Like, seven. Ish."

"Eddie…"

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

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

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

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

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

"Mis'd," she says.

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

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

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

"You're not very convincing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mommy," she says into your neck.

"That's me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

"You don't have to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Junie wave him off.

"To work?" Junie asks.

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

"To work?"

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

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

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

But apparently he's coming back tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't wanna be here."

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do."

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

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

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

"You keep saying that."

"You keep being dumb, boy."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hot shower," you explain.

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

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

Eddie's better than okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even murderers?"

"Maybe not murderers-"

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?"

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

You press your lips together, caught.

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

"You do."

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

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

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks.

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

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."

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

"Maybe."

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

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

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften.

"What if I was?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll make you sick."

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

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

You don't answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to feel it.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn't feel like it matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic.

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

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

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips.

"What?"

"I…"

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

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

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

"Just wanted to do that," you say.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

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

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 4 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆?

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst if you squint, crying (reader feels a rush of emotions), implications of reincarnation, references to the heartstring symphony card, this will hit different if you've read his anecdotes and myth stories, porn with feelings (if it wasn't obvious yet), first time, kissing and making out, slight dry humping, softdom!xavier, fingering, nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight cockwarming, soft sex, slight teasing, slight cursing, dirty talk, praise, use of pet name "angel", lmk if i missed any tags!!

sneaky link : pretty much a visual of what Goes On in this fic (for the most part) 🤭

wc : 4.2k+

There's no one else who knows you more than Xavier does, and he would prove it to you as many times as he needed to.

"Mmh..."

A soft sigh fell from your lips, shifting down to a pout as a he pulled away from you. "Why'd you stop?" You almost whined, and Xavier chuckled as he shook his head. In response, he only trailed his lips down your jawline; soft, fluttering, barely-there kisses all over your face if only to soothe you for the time being.

"It's late, you know..." He mumbled against your skin, feeling you shudder under his touch.

"But, Xavier...!"

You could feel the grin fighting its way onto his lips at your little complaints, and he moved back up, level with your eyes. But contrary to the tease in his actions, his eyes remained gentle. Soft, like every fibre of his being, and full of so, so much love and adoration. Feelings, you knew, that were only ever reserved for you.

"You're really not sleepy yet?" He ran his fingers through your hair, watching the way your locks would fall gently from his hands, almost as if soothed by the very sight. The contrast in his actions now compared to the way he'd kissed you moments prior only messed with your head, but as always, you found it hard to resist the almost puppy-like gaze he would give you in times like this.

This time it was you who shook your head, a failed attempt to hide the smile that was threatening to peek through. "Are you? I wanna stay up with you a bit longer."

"Well... You've already stayed awake with me the whole night," he chuckled, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose as he pressed his forehead against yours. There was a hint of playfulness in the twinkle of his eyes, and you huffed—

"But not with you," you protested. "Fighting Wanderers with you hardly counts. And then you'll go off again somewhere in the morning..."

Your voice trailed off, and something in your words made his expression change in the slightest.

"Okay," he said, after a moment. Another kiss on your nose, arm moving back over your waist to pull you close. "But, are you... Having those thoughts again?"

"...No, I just..." His gaze never left yours, but you turned your eyes downwards, instead snuggling into his embrace. The way you couldn't complete your sentence spoke volumes, and it was almost as if you weren't bothering to hide it in the slightest.

"Sometimes, you're not very good at lying."

With a sigh, Xavier shifted to guide your chin upwards as if to get you to look at him. "I'm sorry, angel."

You would never tire of how expressive his eyes were.

The way they would widen, ever so slightly, in an almost pleading manner when he knew you were upset— The way they would dance with yours in a fondness so pure, and so loving. You had always thought he never quite knew how to express himself with you, having never been the type to say so many words at once. But by now, you knew, his eyes communicated far more than you'd have ever needed.

"You always say it won't happen again, Xavier, but... You always leave."

"...I know."

His voice became barely a whisper, and you didn't miss the way his eyes dropped momentarily to your lips.

"...And when you get back, sometimes you're still injured..."

"...I know."

You let out a breath, reaching out this time to brush the hair out of his face. "So... Won't you kiss me more?"

You watched as a smile slowly made its way to his features, and he moved closer, closer, lips just barely ghosting yours as his voice seemed to drop an octave lower. "Will that make it up to you?"

"Maybe. If you do it enough times to make up for your absence."

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, taking in every bit of you as your lips parted for him, expectant and wanting. Then, he took it rightfully as your invitation for a little more, and his lips were back on yours immediately, captured in the most tender of kisses that had you melting in his arms.

Elsewhere, his hand trailed over the curve of your back in a sweet, loving caress that had you leaning into him for more, and the shift of the corners of his mouth made it known to you that he knew. You caught the slightest taste of cherry as he moved his lips against yours, as soft as velvet, perfectly in sync as if he'd always known exactly how they would move in the first place.

There was no one else who knew you better than Xavier did, and this was no exception. Not with the way he was keen on getting you all worked up like this, deep, and slow, and barely giving you the chance to breathe before diving back in.

In seconds, his bright blue eyes had yours enraptured, swirling with barely contained mirth as he sucked at your bottom lip, tongue lapping over the swollen flesh before gently biting down.

And, oh, he drove you insane.

Unrelenting, your whimpers remained swallowed into his movements, and the tease in his eyes became more evident. Soft, quiet smacking noises resounded in the room as the kisses became more passionate, your arms wrapping around his neck, slipping out a moan as he gently pushed his tongue inside to meet yours.

Your legs moved to entangle with his, nearly wrapping around his waist—

And then he stopped.

Panting, he pulled away from you yet again, a delicate thread of saliva connecting your parted lips.

"Xavier..." You whined, leaning forward as if to chase the same feeling.

But he placed a finger to your temple and shook his head. "We... Should stop."

"But—! You can't just—"

"Angel."

His tone was one of warning; one he would barely ever use with you if not to keep you in place.

Were you crossing a line...?

You fell silent within moments, but the indignance in your gaze lingered longer than you should have let it. Your disappointment could not have been more evident, and he sighed, taking your hand and guiding it downwards—

Oh.

"I have my limits, too, you know? Any further than this, and I can't promise I'll still be acting with your best interests in mind." With a small smile, he shifted just a bit closer to place another chaste kiss on the tip of your nose, as if in reconciliation. "Won't you be gentle with me?"

You couldn't understand him.

How he was so kind yet teasing; so considerate yet so infuriating. It sent an instant jolt of warmth down to your very core, and even you were not oblivious to the wetness that had pooled between your thighs.

A test; a dare—you wrapped your legs around him and shifted, brushing against his erection and relishing in the quiet groan that fell from his lips.

Xavier's hand gripped yours tightly, and he shook his head once more. "Angel, please," he whispered. "We should only be doing this when you're ready..."

"...And if I am?"

Another roll of your hips, pressing closer against him, and he dipped his head down, grip on your hand tightening as he tried desperately to exercise what little restraint he had left. His gaze moved upwards, pleading. He wouldn't dare to speak, not when he couldn't trust the noises that would fall from his mouth if he did—

But as always, his eyes would speak volumes.

Your gaze softened, this time being your turn to cup his cheeks into a quick peck. "Can I have you?" You mumbled, quietly, searching his eyes. "Here. Now."

You watched as his breath caught in his throat, recognition passing in his eyes as he realized the weight of your words, and the tenderness in your touch. "Is this what you really want?" He was breathless when he spoke, inching closer to you once more, almost as if in disbelief of your words.

And perhaps you, too, were at a momentary loss for words.

Xavier—sweet, loving, patient Xavier... How he would never force you into doing things you wouldn't want, how he would never failingly wait to hear your consent before daring to breach another boundary. This had always been the furthest you both had gone. Still scared to take the next step, it was always you who would withdraw, never testing the line that was drawn yourself.

But, somehow, now was different.

Be it the desperation you had to keep him by your side, or the want that had bore itself in front of you from all that you had been doing just now—the fact, then, was that you'd never felt more safe, and loved, and cherished, than in his arms.

Tonight, you would let him know that.

So your heart thrummed loudly in your chest... And you nodded.

Shyly, your gaze moved away from him, hands drifting to play with the fabric of his hoodie. "I'm... Not being too greedy tonight, am I? By saying yes?" You mumbled softly. "I just... Why does it feel like this, Xavier? Like I've known you my whole life."

He remained silent as you spoke, only stroking the side of your arm in reassurance.

"All this time, I think... I've only been scared. Of diving in headfirst; of giving you my everything when I feel that there's still so much of you that I don't know, so much of you that you won't... tell me." You looked up, noting the reflection of your figure in his eyes. "And yet, you know me so well. Every little action, every little word... I could trust you with my life by now. And I have no choice but to melt into you like I have this entire time, like all I've ever known is to be... loved by you. Have we met before, Xavier? It feels like... Maybe, in another life, I've had you there with me, too."

His eyes softened, momentarily flashing with an inexplicable yearning that you couldn't quite place. And then he laced his hands with yours, gently shifting your positions to have you lying beneath him. "Yeah," he whispered, "that sounds like something I'd do." Tears sprung at your eyes with his words, and he traced them away, thumb rubbing against your cheek in the most tender of motions. "I would love you in every lifetime. And if you want me to prove it to you, then... Maybe you'll find out that it's me who's the greedy one."

With that, his lips were on your neck, hands roaming your body and relishing your soft gasps against the crown of his head. Lower, lower—in careful, deliberate motions, his fingers worked the buttons of your blouse to have you open and bare for him, teeth grazing the skin of your nape as you tilted your head with a quiet moan.

He let out a slow breath as he took in the sight of you, trailing his hands from your stomach up to your breasts. Your breath hitched as you watched, hands kneading your tits and his own eyes transfixed in the way they would mold into his hands, soft, supple, his.

"Xavier..." A quiet mumble of his name before he leaned in to take your nipple in his mouth, eyes wandering back up to meet yours. He didn't respond, but his lips almost seemed to twitch up into a smile.

The way he looked at you sent waves of pleasure to your core. Soft, innocent Xavier... Now, he held within him unbridled desire, his mouth wrapped around your sensitive nub, pulling and sucking, flicking and swirling his tongue against it before taking it back in. His pupils darkened in a way you've never seen them do before. There was a certain kind of lustful warmth shimmering within their depths, easily replacing that sleepy gaze you were much more used to seeing.

Then there was a soft "mmm" against your skin before he pulled back with a pop, reaching to roll your other nub between the pads of his fingers, allowing a smile to form on his features. A sharp intake of breath was all you could do to keep from melting underneath him.

"You're so pretty like this, angel," he leaned up to nuzzle against your neck, savoring your warmth. His actions eminated only a shred of lingering restraint, replaced instead by a brimming sense of urgency. He rut slowly up between your thighs, eliciting a whimper from your lips that he caught back into his own.

It was familiar; his lips against yours, already swollen from how much you had kissed just moments prior. But there was something in the way he kissed you now that had you shuddering under the weight of his want, an honest and open display of desperation for you, conveyed with each and every kiss.

Slowly, slowly, his hand edged downwards, slipping past the waistband of your shorts to gently palm at your clothed cunt—he sighed at the sound of your moans, leaning back once more as his eyes roamed over your body, nothing less than pleased.

"Beautiful, beautiful," he mumbled, seemingly mostly to himself as he dragged down the only restricting articles of clothing you had left. The cool air hitting the heat of your core made you shiver, and you immediately reached out for him in the face of your sudden exposure.

"Xavier..." You whined, feeling almost like prey under his gaze, gripping tightly onto his hoodie. But he kept you close, arms now on either side of your head as he leaned in, placing soft, fluttering kisses all over your jawline.

"It's alright," he murmured. "I've got you."

His shifted as his fingers ghosted lightly over your knee, slowly sliding up before snaking downwards in a repeated motion, prying you open little by little. Though meant to lull you into comfort, his touch left a trail of heat in its wake, and you whimpered, reaching out to place your hand on his cheek.

"Am I going too fast? Do you want to stop...?"

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head, hand falling back to rest on your side. "N-no, just... Nervous..."

Xavier softened at your honesty. "We'll go slowly. One step at a time. Do you trust me, angel?"

"Always, Xavier."

"Okay. I'll take care of you, warm you up. It'll feel so good, angel, I promise." His voice was low as he nibbled at your ear, shaky breaths hitting in warm exhales that rendered you speechless.

You trusted him; you meant it.

Even as you felt yourself jolt when he snaked his hand ever-so-close to your core; even as he swiped over your slit to gather your slick onto his finger, wet sounds reaching your ears and almost making you want to bury yourself alive. With your eyes locked desperately onto him, you couldn't see what he was doing, but the pleasure that raked through your body at even the slightest of his touches had you reeling—it felt embarrassing, almost, to have unfurled so easily beneath him.

But Xavier only chuckled.

"Good girl," he whispered, and a gasp fell from your lips that made him smile. "So wet for me. So easy for me to just... Slowly..."

You felt an almost alien intrusion into your cunt, long and slender, your mouth falling open in a frozen gasp.

"Feel good, angel?" He was attentive to you, watching your every reaction, making sure he kept his promise well. And when he glided his finger out only to press back in, he got the very answer he needed—a louder moan of his name, your hands immediately gripping the sheets beneath you. His eyes relaxed, the tips of his mouth curling up yet again with satisfaction, and he repeated the same motions: slow, gentle, delighting in the warmth of your walls around his finger.

"One more, angel. I'll need to stretch you out a little. Okay?"

Soft, soothing words against your ear guided you into his rhythm as he slipped in a second digit, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling ever so slightly to brush against a certain spot as if he knew exactly where it was from the start.

"Xavier— Xavier—" His actions drew out soft chants of his name, and he dipped his head down to suck on your neck, the sting from his bruising swirling in tandem with the feeling of his fingers stretching you out so deliciously.

"That's it, angel. What a good girl for me."

His thumb pressed on your clit, circling it a few times before moving back to rub against it, fingers still working inside of you pleasurably. Xavier hummed, mumbles of how wet you were and how tight you clenched around just his fingers—and then when you arched your back as if to ask for more, he pulled away with an incriminating schick that made you flush.

Slowly, he brought his fingers up to his mouth, closing his eyes with a moan as he sucked on them, savoring your taste. Your body burned at the sight, his words once again eliciting a soft whimper. He looked back at you with half-lidded eyes: "Mmh, next time," he murmured, "I'll definitely taste you properly."

Swallowing thickly under his gaze, you barely even processed his words, only allowing him to guide you in sliding down his clothing, a low groan resounding as his cock sprung free. Your eyes betrayed any attempts at staying calm; taking in the sight of him swollen and leaking, from all his attempts at self-control.

"Xavier..." you whispered, voice hushed, reaching out to touch him.

But he stopped you, hand on your wrist.

"No. If you touch me, I... I won't be able to please you..." His mouth turned down into a little pout, the familiar, puppy-like gaze making a momentary return before he gently moved your legs further apart, a hand on his base as he steadied himself above you. "Next time. There'll be plenty of opportunities like this in the future, and I promise you can have your way with me then."

Next time.

The thought of repeating another night of pleasure with him made you shiver with giddy excitement, even as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance.

"It might hurt a little..." He reached over to stroke the side of your face, concern ridden in his eyes even though the flush of pleasure was evident at the tips of his ears. "So tell me if you need me to stop. Okay?"

Carefully, the head of his cock finally pushed its way in, slowly sheathing itself inside of you.

"Aa-ahh...!"

A broken cry left your lips before you could stop it, clenching immediately around his length, and Xavier gently thumbed at your cheeks.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay. I've got you."

Soft whispers over your lips as he gradually eased himself in, your walls sucking around him and taking him bit by bit. The sting of it was unimaginable; the burn against your walls foreign enough to bring tears to your eyes. But when he bottomed out inside of you, his entire body pressed against yours—immediately, Xavier was kissing all over your face, drawing soothing shapes into your skin if only to distract you, unable to hide the concern that lingered in his eyes. "Are you okay, angel? Is it bad? You're really tight around me right now..."

All you could do was nod as he kissed your tears away, whimpers falling from your lips as you tried to relax your breathing.

Yet, you could feel, it wasn't quite that it hurt—the pain would fade into numbness, a feeling of being full—but your tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked at him, knowing he was finally, finally, as close as he could be.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong, angel? You're doing so well... You take me so well, angel, why are you crying?" You could hear his concern melting into a twinge of sadness, pressing his forehead against yours and searching your eyes for an answer of his own. "Does it still hurt? I'm sorry... Just a few moments, angel. I promise, I'll make you feel so, so good... Really good, angel, I swear..."

But you shook your head. Sniffling, willing yourself to stop crying, you reached up to put your arms around his neck. "No, Xavier, I'm just... Happy."

His expression changed, eyes widening slightly.

"How else can I say it...? It's always felt like there's no other place I could be safer than with you. And now, I... I have you."

You buried your face into his neck, taking several deep breaths. "I love you. So much. More than you could think, more than you could know. A-and, I'm just—happy. To give myself to you. Like... like this..."

You felt him swallow thickly at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as you felt the brunt of the effects you truly had on him. Gently, he lifted up your head, warmth, and love, and longing in his eyes that immediately swallowed you whole. "I love you, too," he whispered. "I always have. I always will."

Wiping the rest of your tears away with a soft smile, he placed another quick kiss on your lips. "May I?"

And you nodded.

Slowly, you felt his cock slide out of your wetness, the feeling of his length rubbing against your walls having you draw out a shaky breath. And then he thrust all the way back in—again. And again. And again.

Soon, his cock was thrusting in and out of your sopping wet pussy at a soft pace, hips moving against yours as he pressed against you, his lips at your shoulder dropping out soft, hushed moans of your name.

"Fuck," he cursed, shifting to bury his head into your chest as he shuddered, hot breath fanning over the curve of your breasts. "I've wanted this... For so long—"

“X-Xavie— ah—hn—”

You moaned in tandem, feeling completely at his mercy. In all that he was, he was gentle with you—soft, sultry rolls of his hips against yours, your fingers gently laced together as he brought them up to either side of your head, holding you in place enough to steady himself.

And yet, all you could do was melt.

When he raised his head to look at you once more, his hair fell over his face, silvery strands wet and sticky with sweat. You caved under this gaze of his—so vulnerable and exposed, yet the safest you had ever been, here in the warmth radiating off of your bodies as he claimed you. "So good, angel," he breathed, angling perfectly for his tip to brush against the spongy spot on your walls, just as if he had your pussy completely memorized.

In response, breathless pants fell from your lips, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place. You could relish the way his moans tangled with yours, his thrusts deep and filling, the slight, rhythmic creaking of your bed a testament to your passionate intimacy.

"Xavier," you whispered, "Xavier, Xavier, Xavier—"

He chuckled, lightly, and then when he kissed you next, releasing your hands in favor of cupping your face, entangling his fingers in your hair—the both of you were far too caught up in each other to bother. The plush fabric of his hoodie pressed warmly against your exposed chest. Tongue met tongue in a sloppy exchange of excess saliva, hushed moans melting between your lips... The squelch of your cunt and the soft pap, pap, pap of his skin against yours filled the room. Like this, you could barely bring yourself to conjure any thoughts that weren't just Xavier, Xavier, Xavier.

"...Tight," he gasped, parting from your lips as his eyes trailed down your body, lingering over where the two of you were connected. There was a white, milky ring around the base of his cock as he watched it disappear, time and time again, into the greedy walls of your pussy. "You're squeezing me... Tighter, and tighter— Fuck—"

You watched as his eyes closed, as if willing to control himself despite his length snugly wrapped into your heat. His breathing molded into sharp huffs, and you clawed at his back in raw pleasure, fisting into the soft clothing, desperate to pull him closer than close—as close as you possibly could be.

"I-I think..." You struggled to find words as you buried your head into his hair, taking in the scent of his sweat, his shampoo, and him.

"Mmh... Close?" Xavier thrust into you deeply, and the whimper you emitted served as enough proof. "It's alright. Cum for me, angel."

His words and the way he held you flush against his body sent you spiraling, vision blanking as you froze, legs in the air, a long, drawn-out moan of his name the last on your lips before all else was reduced to rapid breaths.

Immediately, your pussy clenched tight around him as he continued to pump inside of you, his own soft, rhythmic strokes becoming more erratic, more harsh. The sensitivity had you whining, but before you could dare to speak, he pulled you in and kissed you deeply, moaning loudly into your mouth.

You could feel it—your insides painted white, hot spurts of his cum hitting your walls, movements gradually stilling to a stop.

For a moment, the two of you stayed still, your legs relaxing enough to fall back over his waist, keeping him warm inside of you as you caught your breaths in silence.

You felt soft sighs into your hair as he tucked you under his chin—"...I love you," he murmured.

He nuzzled into your locks.

"And I'm... Sorry. That I disappear a lot. That I go places without telling you. I... don't want to disappoint you, so..."

You shifted, looking at him with a pout. "Please don't promise me something you won't be able to keep..."

"...I know. But I'm saying... I'll do my best. Not to make you worry. And I'll return home safe and sound, and you'll... You'll have me. You'll always have me. Okay, angel?"

A smile played at your lips. "Okay."

"For now, let's... get you cleaned up."

『 Have we met before? Maybe in another time I loved you; maybe you're the one that I would run to, don't know why it's all a blur. I think I know you... 』

⁺₊ / an: happy valentines !!!!!! the basis of this is that if xavier waited for us throughout multiple timelines... then him knowing us like the back of his hand should also apply to this context, no? i think it can't be more obvious than this just how much love i have for xavier... little pookie... he deserves the world...

++requests are open! ask away, lovelies 💕

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love & deepspace xavier #xavier smut #xavier x reader #xavier x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by cafekitsune #divider by mikeykuns

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sports-on-sundays · 4 months

Text

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."

374 notes · View notes

highvern · 7 months

Text

adamas et aurum

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: gross domestic fluff, boyfriend mingyu

Length: ~1.7k

Note: more Drunk Goggles couple bc im beating a dead horse. idk why i do this to myself :) crying :) in :) the :) club :)

read more here

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Oh, do I?”

Mingyu huffs, face covered in sweat, backwards hat matting his hair to his skull, bare chest rose-colored from the fiery sun and swampy humidity. You’ve both spent all morning moving boxes to and fro so he’s about two seconds away from laying down on the floor for a much needed nap. When it came to heavier stuff, Mingyu insisted you stay and start unpacking the necessities so the apartment would at least be somewhat functional around all the mess. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that his shredded patience couldn’t handle any more of your help. Thank god some of the guys are coming over tomorrow to help him with the furniture.

Because of his chivalry, you’ve stayed cool in the AC, humming to the music blasting from a speaker in the kitchen as you work to make the new space a home. All the while Mingyu slaves away to lug in stuff he doesn’t remember either of you owning.

“Boyfriend tax.”

“Ahhhh,” you nod.

Jumping up on your toes, you deliver a cartoonishly wet smack on his lips as a thank you for his hard word.

“How’s it going?”

“Bathroom is mostly unpacked but we need to get some bins to organize under the sink. Oh! And the beds made too!” You chirp, turning back to your task of wiping out the cabinets and drawers of your new kitchen. “If you wanna wash up and lay down, I’ll order something to eat.”

“You’re the best.” he sighs, stepping into the space behind you, chest against your back, face tucked into the curve of your shoulder, hands grasping the edge of the counter on each side of your hips.

“My man works hard, gotta take care of him.” You praise, twisting your neck to drop a kiss to his temple causing you to get a whiff of his sweat.

“Now go shower, you stink.”

“Hey!” Mingyu objects, face moving over your shoulder so he can look at you. “I’m sorry I’ve been roleplaying as your hot shirtless mover for the last two hours. Bust my butt and this is how you thank me?”

Turning to face him, you tangle your arms around his neck, linking your hands behind his head and pulling him into a bear hug. His palms slide around the sensitive skin of your back, pulling you closer as your shirt sticks to his sweaty chest uncomfortably where you press together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, you’re together, in the new apartment you share, starting the next chapter of your lives.

“Thank you, Mingyu. I love you.” You whisper into his collarbone.

“Damn right.” He mumbles, tilting his head down to drop a sweet peck to your mouth, arms giving a tight squeeze before swatting at your ass as he turns towards the bedroom.

“Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax!” He calls over his shoulder, amusement bubbling in his voice.

Your eyes trail after him, heart swelling as it begins to fully register what you’ve done. He’s here and his name is on the lease next to yours; your matching keys hanging by the door, assigned parking spots downstairs next to each other. Mingyu just went into your shared bedroom, to take a shower in your shared bathroom, and tonight you’ll curl up beside him in your shared bed.

Wonwoo moving in with his girlfriend has been the catalyst for the much needed conversation. Mingyu had essentially been living out of your apartment for months already, only returning to his own place every few days for fresh clothes or to see his friend. When his roommate told him he was planning to move out after their lease ended in four months you simply scoffed at his distress about where to live.

“You basically live with me anyway.” You mumbled, not thinking about what the statement implied.

“I—,” he gapes. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I just mean, you already stay here so much anyway.” You grumble, suddenly feeling awkward in his hold.

“Can you just ask me nicely?” He whines. “I wanna be romanced.”

Humoring him, you slide to the floor in front of the couch you two had been draped across. Dropping to one knee, you cup your hands together in a makeshift box like you’re proposing. Your eyes round and brows raise, attempting and failing to give him an earnest expression.

“Kim Mingyu, love of my life, future father of my children, bane of my existence. Will you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

“Bain of your existence?”

“Focus.” You snap your fingers. “Will you move in with me?”

“Duh,” he beams, tackling you to the ground and snaring you in a bear hug as you squeal in delight.

Your friends had warned you about signing a lease together; that no matter how many nights Mingyu stays at your apartment (twenty three in a row is his record), when you call the same place home things will be different. And all of his bad habits won’t change just because he’s living with his girlfriend. If anything they may get worse because it's his home now too and he’s no longer a long staying guest.

You already knew that Mingyu tends to leave the seat up after using the bathroom, and will collapse with laughter if you fall in; that he insists on burying his cold feet under your butt when sitting on the couch, occasionally wiggling his toes just to piss you off; and how he will put the carton of milk back in the fridge even if there's only a drop left no matter how many threats against his person you make.

But Mingyu also sets his alarm ten minutes earlier than needed so he can hold you in bed before starting the day, basking in each others drowsy warmth before braving the world outside the sheets; he frequently insists you sit between his legs on the floor and let him dry your hair after you shower, gently combing his fingers through it, sometimes twisting the locks into messy braids or buns with his clumsy hands; how he’ll surprise you with a candle light dinner, insisting you both dress up even though your sitting at the kitchen table on a Tuesday eating reheated leftovers, just because he can.

No matter how annoying his bad habits are, the good ones are worth their weight and more in gold.

A shockingly girlish shriek shatters your daydream.

Hightailing it to the bathroom, you spot your stark naked boyfriend through the plastic of the shower liner, quivering in the corner of the stall like a leaf blowing in the wind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Its fucking hot!” He cries, over his shoulder, trying to shield his body from the spray by curling into the tiled wall.

Heaving a sigh of relief and annoyance, you can’t help rolling your eyes as you step towards the front of the tub and twist the faucet, adjusting to a cooler temperature for him so he doesn’t have to stick his arm through the scalding rain.

“Big baby,” you grumble before heading back to the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

Mingyu shuffles into the bedroom, towel draped low on his waist, beads of water falling from his hair to his collarbone as he looks for the duffle bag he packed with clothes for the next few days; but the scene before him stops him in his tracks. The sun from the window casts the room in a buttery yellow, beams of light dappling your figure sprawled on the bed, mouth open slightly and hair a mess around your face. He leans a shoulder against the door frame, tired eyes full of love and mouth lifted in a gentle smile as his soulmate snores quietly a few feet away.

When you asked if he wanted to move in together, Mingyu lacked the self control needed to stop from jumping up and screeching like a kid in a candy store. The thought of living with his favorite person in the world had his heart tremble and his palms sweat. Despite all the oddities and quirks he learned about you in the past two years of dating, almost everyone warned him that you can’t really know someone till you live with them. He thinks the months before today had prepared him for the inevitable annoyances you two would face.

He’s accepted that you leave hair on the walls of the shower that eventually clog the drain, pooling water around his feet when he hops in the stall before work; how you push around takeout boxes and spoiled produce in the fridge for days instead of throwing them out; and that piles of unfolded laundry will sit on the edge of the couch for days on end until one day the planets align and you decide to re-organize your entire closet after folding the wrinkle garments.

Mingyu accepts all of those things because he also knows you like to surprise him by grabbing all the ingredients for a recipe he mentions wanting to try in passing, happily volunteering to be his sous chef and taste tester, insisting you both don the couple aprons his mom got you for Christmas; that when he isn’t feeling well you’ll scratch his back until he falls asleep with his cheek squished on your stomach while you fret over him; how you always wait up for him when he gets ready for bed, glazed eyes opening every few minutes to blink lazily, soft breath tickling the skin between his shoulder blades where your head lays only interrupted by an occasional sleepy kiss on his spine while he brushes his teeth.

His friends mentioned all the ways moving in together will change the way you see each other. But in the two years you’ve been dating, each time your relationship changed it's been for the better. When you two started hanging out on your own and he found his opinion on you shifting completely. When you admitted you liked each other and he learned you were a lot braver than he was. When you two fought for the first time and he realized that as brave as you were, you weren’t invincible. When he said he loved you for the first time by accident and discovered you were just as in this as he was. All the fights that challenged you to understand each other better, the struggles that strained your ability to take care of one another; all of it had changed your relationship but pressure makes a diamond.

A lot like the one he plans to give you when he asks if you want to change your relationship again one day.

#svthub #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #dghe couple #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #🫡 highvern #OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH BOY

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animasola86 · 5 months

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Spicy Oneshots Recommendations

A list of smutty oneshots I recommend you to read while I'm on my holiday break! (Links go to their respective tumblr posts, unless stated otherwise! Please also check out their other works, I would link all of them but the list would never end!)

Fair warning: There's spice below, read at your own risk (but do yourself a favor and do read those amazing oneshots)!

For the Seb lovers:

(f!mc/reader edition)

The Mess by @sunnyrealist

Tethered by @morelikeravenbore

Memory Lane by @cuffmeinblack

Fever In The Morning by @happyaccidentsonly

The Solution by @applinsandoranges

Free Use by @writeslikeanaria

Dolled Up / Scribner's desk by @frenziedfireworks

Where we belong by @just-another-fanfiction-writer

I'm going to fucking ruin you / Louder, I want them to hear you / "Shut your mouth!" - "Make me!" by @little-emerald-snake

It’s my thigh or nothing by @slytherinsallows

Fissured Composure by @anto-pops

When it rains / A different kind of key by @sebastianswallows

Five Minutes by @sebswebs

Slytherin Green by @thenerdykneazle

My Sleep Remedy by @festivalsofmargot

💚💛

(m!mc/reader edition)

Hufflesmut / Risky Business / Locker Room by @terminallybrainrot / @parselmouthedmelinae

Perfect Places by @remus-levioso

Slythersmut (unnamed oneshot) by @remus-levioso

💚❤️

For the Seb + Garreth sandwich lovers:

(f!mc/reader edition)

where there's smoke, there's firewhiskey (AO3) by @shadowtriovibes

Let's take turns (AO3) by @blueraineshadows

Dare-aoke Night (AO3) by @pheexblack

❤️

For the Garreth lovers:

A Halloween party... and after (AO3) by @amberlide

I could have listed so many more, but for now these are all I could think of (and find in my favs and reading lists, and there are still so many that I haven't read yet, I'm so sorry! I shall use my break to read all the fics I saved for later!).

So: Please check out their other works as well!

And while we're at it: if you have recommendations, please feel free to leave a comment and share it with us! Thank you!

#hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow smut #garreth weasley smut #smut recs #smut recommendation #fanfic recommendation #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy

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chokchokk · 9 months

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𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄) | choi san x fem!reader

a requested drummer boyfriend!san one-shot

“How do I feel like, Sannie?”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : With your eyes on his playing, San feels like a superstar.

You, on the other side, feel super horny. Mamma Mia…

“You feel like you're mine."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.8k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, a bit cocky but very sweet drummer!san, shy but not inexperienced girlfriend!femreader, sensory overload & deprivation, slight dry-humping (f), light-hearted teasing, pet-names (sun, sunshine, sunny, baby), explicit consent, verbal & physical reassurance, blindfolding, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, love-making, passionate sex, unprotected sex (not sorry), cussing; banging against the wall and mattresses squeaking used as a narrative and poetic device, barely plot just good fuck and tuck (aftercare)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wrote this in 4 long sessions while i had a very horny long distance relationship with drummer!san due to all the business i experienced while working on this lol. i missed him any time i couldn't write for him, which, over the course of almost 2 months (i'm sorry)... is long.... i promise it is sweet and love-making but uh. horny. i was drunk for a big chunk (like a half) of writing this (took care of obvious errors but tell me if you find anything please omg.) anyway lmao hope you have fun reading it <33 always appreciate reblogs, likes and comments/feedback xoxo

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : @ateezstanforever : @sanwhalvr : @itsvxlentine : @jeonride : @r1kitti : @sanniesbunnie : @northerngalxy (thank you!!!)

masterlist link | join my taglist

[ what he’s playing : MAMMAMIA / FEEL / FOR YOUR LOVE ▸ Måneskin | playlist ]

OH, OH, OH, AUGH!

There he goes again, your boyfriend, his black earphone plugged deep into one ear, drum sticks held firmly in his hands, hammering down on the drums he's been abusing for the past, uh — gosh, how long has it been? An hour? A lifetime?

You love your Sannie, you really do, but when you signed up to be the girlfriend of infamous drummer “Sun Set”, you were expecting heated, secret glances from the stage to the audience, feverish making out-sessions post-concert, and while you do get those things in an overdose, listening to drum covers (without the vocals, mind you) on repeat until your ears actually fall off–? No, that one was not on the initial contract.

And, come on, it's finally the weekend after one long, exhausting week, which San and you usually spend trying to de-stress, relax and relieve yourself. So yes, if it was as usual, you would be spending your sweet time with your boyfriend right now— if it wasn't for his upcoming competition with his band.

Alright. It’s not to say that you are being forced to stay here in between these soundproof walls, covered by graffiti San's bandmates left to immortalize their jam-sessions, and don’t forget the pungent smell of tobacco that will without a doubt stick to the hoodie you fetched after he took it off— you do want to be a supportive girlfriend that’s worth winning those 1K for.

So, you’ll still give him a thumbs up and applause every time he finishes with a song, tilts up his head triumphantly, fingers running through his incredibly disheveled red hair that has formed singular spikes of sweaty strands, while the drum sticks still rest in his hands with his breath all messed up. He gives it his all, but what you understand is that San gives even more when you are there to watch him: At least that’s what you’re seeing right now, when he doesn't give himself more than five seconds to transition to the next track.

Lower lip bitten deep by his teeth, face pulled together to a concentrated frown, head rocking up and down, side to side, with his red locks waving around in the wind of his energy and feet aggressively stomping down the bass drum, your boyfriend feels his music, always, with his whole body, his mind drowns and explodes with the help of his loud instrument, and as you sit there, on the couch, a pillow clenched in between your legs– you try to balance out the overbearing noise by digging your nails into the cushion, and you deal with the “awe” you feel for your boyfriend being so immersed by his artistry, god, so astonishingly burning and afire— by pressing your thighs together so the beats of his drum can finally stop pulsating between them.

San doesn’t smile when he plays, you noticed it a while ago, makes an almost disgusted-looking face by scrunching his face together, especially when he really hammers down the cymbals and throws his head to the back, drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes as if he’s challenging the gods to come stop him, his thick neck glistening in his sweat, his pulse pumping through the vein that is bulging out.

Oh, mamma…

You hope those gods do have mercy with you, because San looking like this does things to you that go beyond just feeling fear that he’s going to throw his shit to the floor. It makes you go into a craze that he’s also wearing a very drenched black tank top and pair of ripped jeans, his black bandana he had on his head is now tied around his thigh, and his arms are flexing with each time he’s thwacking down on his tom-toms and smashing the cymbals— fuck, where does your boyfriend get the time to go to the gym? Is it getting hot in here? You can’t possibly be enduring overheating on top of a headache, you’ll actually pass out or have to rip off your clothes in its entirety. But, shit, look at him— your boyfriend looks absolutely carnal right now and you can’t even slightly touch him, you’re going to melt. Like actually melt into mush.

… mia.

San is going through his usual cathartic euphoria, the snaring sounds of his drums and cymbals penetrate your ear cut and clean, but while you usually can bop your head to it, listening to him does slightly differ, when your brain clenches after each sound that follows the other.

It’s 1 AM. The weekend has just started. It’s been two hours of his practice now, with a small ‘make-out break’ that is already more than thirty minutes ago. San promised you, ‘just one last song and I’ll be there for you, yeah?’, but there goes he, your boyfriend, Choi San, Sun Set, drumming along to his tenth or something song, overflowing in intense passion.

You could have been lying in bed with him, San in your arms or you in his, smothered by his love or something, anything; Please, just… No more beating the skin. No more rudiments, diddles– you don’t want to hear none of it, and you know you’re being an immodest glutton for your boyfriend thinking of him like this, but there’s nothing else on your mind except him and how bad you want him to stop playing. Of course you can’t say that out loud, at least not that he could hear it over the sounds of his drums, especially over how loud the music in his earbuds is set, the vocals screech through the plastic so even you can hear the shouts.

San values his musical time with his drum, needs it to feel secure for the competition, it would be cruel to interrupt him just because you have a headache and an even more so aching cunt, right?

No, you dummy.

San is your boyfriend. Or no, you, dear, are his beloved girlfriend. He’s not going to let you sit here and suffer, even if you mean well for him and watch Sun Set be hot. Being his scarily attentive self, he catches the strain in your face and immediately stops stepping into the bass drum with his sneakers. A very acute quietude interrupts his playing and washes all of your boiled up headache away.

Silence.

It can sound so sweet, can’t it? Can feel so sweet, too…

“Hey, are you okay, sunshine?”, San asks, and after your ears get used to the lack of sound, you see his sweat drop from his forehead, hear his voice soft and molten, which starkly contrasts the overwhelming volume of the instrument he’s been playing.

“No, it’s nothing,” you murmur, failing at hiding your discomfort, as the pillow still rests in your hands, nail marks as visible as visible can be on the velvety surface. You’ve obviously been scratching that, don't even try to hide it.

“Oh, sunshine,” San sighs with a sorrowful smile that understands immediately, and after he swings his legs from the stool, he makes his way to you with open arms to slide them under your armpits.

You liquefy in his hug, the pillow tumbling out your groin, body going lax immediately as you wrap yourself around his neck, sinking into him. The couch squeaks a bit upon the impact of San falling into it, but the shrill noise is nothing compared to the beat of his drums. His embrace engulfs you, makes you feel sunken in remedy, reverie and warmth– and the slippery surface of his back only adds to the experience of having your lover in your arms. All that was a buzzing chaos— San makes it golden, melting your tense body, lifting it up to gently sit down on the couch side-ways with you on top, your ear listening to how his heart knocks against his ribcage, slowly, loudly, steadily.

“It’s past midnight already!”, he gasps silently, looking at the clock, “Why didn’t you tell me, sunny?”

“You had that look on again,” you whine, face planted into his breast, god, his pillowy, sweaty chest— and look up to him, as he strokes over your back.

“I have something like that?”, San hums, voice is kept low so he doesn’t irritate you in any way, though there’s a slight suggestive swing in the repetition of your words, “A look?”

His eyebrow twitches up and his lips are curled into a smirk, wanting you to tell him in detail what’s gotten you to fidget around with the pillow and whine in impatience, clearly bleeding in confidence that comes from having not missed even the slightest beat of the songs.

You didn’t think drummers were that sexy, since the usual limelight was kept on the flirtatious vocalists, powerful guitarists or the red-blooded bassists, but after San had invited you to one of his jam-sessions on the third date, your life had been tilted upside-down, rocked, and your fate settled. (It was really rough to not fall around his neck after his drum-solo, peculiarly when Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept making jokes about your red cheeks, but you still remember the way San asked you whether you were alright with his heavy breath, and, oh god, does it still turn you on to this day.)

If it’s not the look he has on his face every time he pounds into his instrument, the one which you can feel flutter in between your legs, it’s most certainly the look in his eyes he has on right now, the sultry, slightly taunting gaze that’s trying to make you sweat, and as if the room isn’t heated up enough, his dark irises spark in between his eyelashes, kindling a fire in you that definitely needs extinguishing— so best believe he should know it.

“Your fans tell you every day, Sannie,” you groan, embarrassment croaking your voice while you snuggle yourself deeper into his comfortable body, his thigh parked between your legs. You can feel the knot of his bandana stroke your core and you shudder a little bit, a cracked breath escaping out your nose. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows– doesn’t seem to acknowledge how you inhale deeply– and San exhales out a chuckle, answering, with glittery puppy eyes that make you unable to say no any further, “I’d like to hear it from you though, sunshine…”

You slump deeper into his flesh and as his bandana grazes the thin layer of your booty- shorts again, you savor how slow he’s breathing and how warm he feels under you, sighing, “Sannie, when you play the drums… It’s like… W- wow, what do I say, you know…”

“Aww, don’t be shy now,” San croons and doesn’t acknowledge how he’s encouraging you to keep grinding needily on his thigh, hands skidding to your ass to cup them delicately, drifting and pushing you over slowly. “I don’t know, Sannie… You–,” you whirr and you have to inhale sharply after your sensitive bud tingles, “You… make my head hurt, Sann- n- nie.”

Alright, let’s be honest here. You’re lying through your teeth, and San chuckling is confirmation that he doesn’t believe the lie one single bit.

Yes, your head hurts, but that was his music, not San as the only man who could take care of all the feelings that have been jamming up like crazy. Feelings being a gut-wrenching mix of longing, craving, lusting for San as hard as you do. Even now, you can count the drops of sweat on his face dripping down his freckled neck you’ve already previously admired, but seeing it up close makes you quite greedier, especially when you can still make out his flavor on your tastebuds from having had your tongue down his throat a (too long) while ago. Not to forget his fingers groping into your plump butt right now, and it’s confusing how your boyfriend’s visage can stay as innocuous as it looks while he’s obviously supporting you on chasing your thrill.

After the silence that follows San’s chuckle, your boyfriend speaks up again, and despite the air being undeniably thick, his voice vibrates comfortably in his ribcage, lulling in the side of your head; “I’m so sorry for making your pretty head hurt, Y/N.”

You click with your tongue, pouting, gathering a bit of your energy that’s slowly coming back, and grab San by his shoulders. You turn your head so your chin is poking into his sternum, looking right to where he’s eyeing you down. You stop grinding and he looks with a smile.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?”, your boyfriend snickers softly, hands disappearing under his hoodie to trail you down your back and waist with his fingers. You feel fuzzy and velvety under his touch, and him gently breathing out “sunny” melts in your ears like a restorative, refreshing breeze after the endless knocks of his drums intimidating you and tying your throat shut.

“My ears were seriously killing me, I think,” you admit, but the cute pout remains formed on your lips.

“Ohh, Y/N, I’m– I’m really sorry to hear that. I really didn’t want to make you hurt, sunny, I promise,” San sniffles and mirrors your pout; you get the hunch he does feel very, very sorry this time, yet his hands are very guilty of slithering up your back and— clip! Open up your bra.

Ignoring that you flutter, feel light and feel the relief already, you uncontrollably giggle in surprise and push yourself up, getting to see more of your boyfriend’s handsome face. He has stopped pouting now, using his tongue to wet his red-tinted lips with a friendly, yet very ferocious smile. “You know the songs I was playing right now, sunshine?”

“No, I don’t,” you answer with continuing honesty.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “hm, maybe it’s better that way,” voice dripping like honey, but the sweet innocence is feigned, making you curious of what he’s hiding from you, deflecting from the very evident scene he’s painting.

His caramel skin proves it; for the particularized taste, heat must be added for sugar to win aroma, and your boyfriend is testing the theory to its limits.

Gliding his hands to your hips, San gets your cheeks burning, and when he hooks his fingers into his hoodie and drives it off your body, you lick over your lips asking yourself if you need any clarity to know where this is going; With your arms raised, your boiling skin meets fresh air through your drenched shirt and you shudder for a short moment, before your boyfriend gets his hands on the bra, fetches it, and slithers it out your arms.

After it drops to the ground and San sees your nipples poke through your shirt, he shifts his weight to the front to make you trip on your back, and takes off his tank top with both of his hands. His lats spread frighteningly wide and you let out a gasp. You’ll never not be surprised about how beefy your boyfriend is; San’s sweaty body expands in front of your eyes, and his collarbones are perfectly in your sight, as he hovers over you with his hand propped next to your head. There’s a wave of heat hitting your face and you aren’t sure whether you’re blushing or if his body is just genuinely that thermal.

Adopting the rather playful tone of your lover, you sulkily murmur, “It’s unfair if you don’t tell me about those things now, Sannie,” letting your finger trail along his slippery chin with softness, aware that you will only semi-attentively listen to his words from how distracted you are from his fallen eyes that are slowly flaming up. There’s only two things on your mind and while one of them includes going home, the other one can be perfectly executed on the couch.

“Oh, so naughty things, sunny, I don’t know if you want to hear about them, actually.”

San chuckles, his words contradicting how eagerly he kisses your hand, piercing through you with his eyes, making you melt. He gets his upper body up, his knees caging you in and you murmur “tell me about them”, as your boyfriend grabs you by wrist to help you move it down his chest that is still perceivably sleek, down to his abs that are just as lubricious and then, with a heavy sigh he definitely forms into a clear “ha~” leaving his mouth which makes your insides wobble.

Your boyfriend is such a tease. On stage, he doesn’t get to be as interactive as his band-counterparts do, like getting their sweat-drenched heads dangle down to the crowd and be ruffled through their hair, but Sun Set surely takes off his top oftentimes enough so every fan of his can admire his build. Your boyfriend’s amazing build.

He lets go of your hand to go through his red hair with a smirk, peeking down at his belt, clearly driving you into a wall here which is going to feel feathery light, but still so scary to brush against your skin— you have to make a choice here, one that makes your voice come out stuttered, one that proves to San that he's on the right track, cooking you up deliciously.

San might be a tease, but ohh, Y/N. You’re just so fun to tease, aren't you?

“P.. Please, Sannie,” you murmur, shyly, voice whispery because the headache fizzles inside your head, rather cripplingly slowing down your thoughts. He knows he likes it a bit too much, you being shy, but there’s something twitching inside his pants, when San thinks about the things he can do to you tonight to make you react even more, a smirk hurrying onto his face.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and you watch him collectively gather the bits and tits of his vivid, loud, rocking mind, silence remaining strikingly strong between you two, your head beaming everytime he doesn’t say anything to take his time to think.

“Things you were doing with that pillow for example,” San hushes. Your hands move by themselves to unbuckle his belt, and while you do blush a little bit, both your hands get the black leather strip out the clip with hurried motions. “Or the things you were doing to my thigh just a second ago, sweet sunshine.”

Your boyfriend snickers and once his belt is on the floor too, he shuffles a bit to the back and wraps his fingers around your ankles, pulling you so you lay straight on the couch, while he’s kneeling between your legs, cowered as small as his big frame allows it.

“I- I don’t think I understand yet, Sannie,” you droop, wanting San to get more explicit with you so you can swim in his vulgarity that he oozes, and also make him finally confirm you don’t have any reason to be embarrassed about being the only one whose guts are demanding to be stirred. He’s getting more bricked up, and since his baggy jeans are hanging loose now, you can see his cockhead bulge out his boxershorts. “I think you need to explain it more…”

You gulp at the wet patch and flutter with your eyelids, and with San’s thumbs caressing your love handles and leaning towards over your torso, his heat radiates to your face again. You were feeling a bit more bold, but no, you could never get used to how intensely San looks at you. His eyes speak a thousand words, sing a million songs, and they’re all about getting a bite of the red on your cheeks and taste how it will melt into his tongue. There’s a droning buzz which thumps into your eardrums and it’s blood rushing to your head at the incalescence of your boyfriend, who doesn’t let a second pass where he’s not touching you, even when he’s pulling off your t-shirt from your body.

“Hmmm, maybe you’re just not able to listen correctly, my love,” San sneers, almost paradoxically sweet, and arousal boils in your guts, while your sweated body gets used to the new temperature, your boyfriend’s hands cupping your breasts once, just to have finally get a touch. “Because of the headache, right? Mmm, right,” he murmurs to himself, and San unravels the bandana on his thigh.

You look at how he straightens the fabric in front of you, and how his hands slowly approach your head. “Will you let me fix that, sunshine?”

“Wh.. What are you going to do, Sannie?”

“Show,” and San instantaneously corrects himself, after he lets the slightly warmed up fabric drape over your forehead, ”hmm, make you hear,” to then let it fall over your eyes, getting very close to your ear, so his warm lips line your earlobe, his raspy voice reverberating in your ear. “Make you hear yourself, Y/N.”

“Yeah..?”, you whisper, and look at San for a last time– his eyes sparkle in excitement that can’t be heard through the droopiness of his voice:

“Listen to how my love makes you feel, baby.”

Ayayay…

“How is this, Y/N?”

“Lemme see,” you joke and you blink a few times, after the bandana has been tightened behind your head. It is pitch-black dark in front of you. Quickly, you feel how you’re getting more aware of San’s breath coming through and leaving his mouth– you following his slow pace soon enough– and feel especially how his rough fingers are tucking in your hair so he gets to see all of how your face muscles pull together in pleasure, sending your cheeks and nose into a ticklish wave of sensation.

“It’s,” you say, but what was once a steady voice turns– after getting goosebumps all around after San courses down your neck to your sternum with the tips of his fingers– into a whimper: “A- amazing, Sannie.”

You hear San sigh, and you’re sure it’s a sigh of awe, him watching your hand search for his so you can hold it. He intertwines the fingers immediately, and when he’s at your shorts with his other hand, fingers delving to where your hip fits perfectly into his hold, San begins peppering kisses on your abdomen, you falling apart into a tense, sensitive mess at the cause of his touch.

“Can you feel how my fingers and lips feel against your skin?”

You weakly nod, his thumb chafing over your skin, as San gets his hand out and touches you everywhere.

“Words, sun. Your pretty voice, I need it to continue, alright?”

“Yes, Sann–”, you answer, but you shudder, when San lets his digits dangle over your breast, ghost-like little grazes spreading over your torso, shoulders tucking in by themselves, as you feel it run over your back like your wings are expanding, “nngh-nie…”

“So soft, aren’t you, sun? So soft for me,” your boyfriend murmurs against your fuzzy tummy, and hooks his fingers into your waistband. You were intending to hum a forlorn ‘mhm’ to answer him again, but it comes out whimpered, after San lets his thumb, which is still anchored to your hand, slither over your cunt, his thumb tickling over your now even more sensitive nub.

“Can you feel how warm you are?”, he whispers, becoming a bit greedier with the kisses he’s spreading down your pelvis-bone, accompanying how carefully he’s sliding your clothing off, your skin being more and more revealed to his eye, while you live with the uncertainty of darkness in front of yours. “How do I feel like, Sannie?”, you ask him, hearing your own voice ricochet in your throat, your ears have become more conscious of sound.

“You feel like,” he whispers, and then, when the shorts have reached your knees, and San breathes against where your cunt is soaked in your panties, he purrs, “you’re mine.”

His voice condenses warmly there, like a sweat, and you clench just by how raw your boyfriend speaks. The thought of him seeing your soaked cunt also just makes you run hot, and if it wasn’t for his elbow keeping you open, you would’ve closed down on him.

“Y- yeah?”, you shudder, as it seems that San is breathing in the lust-sodden heat from between your legs.

“Would you like to say it for me, sun? I would love to hear it…”

“I’m.. I’m y-yours, Sannie,” you choke out, and you are really not meaning to be as shaky as you are, but just when you thought you knew what you were about to get touched at your erogenous area, San has somehow managed to hover over your body and has bit into your lip, the darkness in front of you feeling even more blurry in front of your eyes due to the sudden gesture. “Hmmn–!”

San chuckles. “Aww, relax, sunshine. Trust me, Y/N, okay? I won’t hurt you, but if I do, just tell me. I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures the safety you find yourself in, despite not seeing anything in front of you. As you nod and let out a confident “Yes, Sannie,” with a deep breath in, San hums and pinches your nipples.

“Sannie!”, you whine out, and your voice cracks, when you feel his tongue circle your bud and his eyelashes flutter against your eye-collar, seemingly soothing the little surprise with his warm saliva. “Yes, sunny? Do you want me to stop?”, San asks, his cocky grin unmissable in his voice, his other thumb tickling your nipple.

“N- no, I-I mean–”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice is slightly lispy from how your nipples are stuck between his lips, San softly sucking them in, pecking your flesh around with cottony kisses.

“Yes, good… v-very.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes, more.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” San laughs throatily, and then traces your silhouette, making you even woolier than before, a little squirm leaving your mouth, when his thumb meets your feverish crotch. “Your sounds,” San sighs, and presses his lips against your neck, his upper body slightly weighing into yours, as it seems that he’s holding himself up by grabbing into the backrest of the couch, “are my drug, baby.”

“Mmm-hm,” you answer, trying to keep your mind where his voice leads you, but you’re too busy feeling how San’s fingers sift slowly through your folds, softly, carefully, feeling every inch of slick squelch warmly around his digit. “Fuuuck,” San grunts into your ear, circling his fingertip around your clit, causing you to grab his wrist that has wandered to the top of your head. You have to gulp, and your boyfriend takes it as a sign to go a bit slower on you, but it doesn’t stop San whispering things to make you spiral into a hypnosis. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re so fucking sexy…”

A whimper leaves your opened mouth, as San chuckles in awe and coats his fingers with more of your arousal. “Is this what happens when you watch me play, sun? Getting all wet for Sun Set?”

It feels like your head is going to fall off your neck, when you softly nod up and down, San’s finger continuing to make you clench by stroking over your clit. “Th- this is what happens when,” you murmur, pushing down on his wrist as your lower abdomen continues to flutter and his lips nibble at your neck, his tongue working around a sensitive spot, “wh- when my boyfriend kisses me and then ignores me for an hour…”

“Aww, ignoring you?”, San whispers, easing his fingertip at your entrance, your hot hole immediately tightening around him, “I could never ignore you, my love…”

“Hngh, I don’t think so, Sannie… You were so concentrated on your drums…”

San whispers out, “I’m sorry”, as he curves his finger a little, caressing your inner skin fondly. You feel how thick his digit is and your glutes tense up. It doesn’t stop you from speaking your truths though.

“It’s okay, Sannie… It looked so… fucking… hot.”

“Really?” Your boyfriend gasps, always loving how you sneak in some brass into your words, and sucks lovesomely at your neck, his humming vibrating against your pulse, his finger pushing in through your arousal that gives him an easy entrance. “So say again, I made your head hurt because I’m so ‘fucking hot’, sunny?”

“Mhm,” you answer, and after San’s whole finger curls inside, you mewl out, “you’re the hottest man there is, Sannie– you’re– you’re so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. Only you can make me feel like this…”

“Fuuck…”

Your words seem to rile your boyfriend up very much, it is getting very difficult for San to not immediately run his fingers in and out, maintaining a slow pace that you feel expanding your tightness. “S- Sannie, you… you make me so crazy,” you whine out, his fingertip grazing over your sweet-spot, making you clench, “You make me feel so amazing, y- you are amazing, such a good musician and boyfriend, baby, you’re– nmmmh~!”

San couldn’t help himself and had to finally kiss you, his plump lips encasing your mouth, tongue running over yours the second he’s able to find contact. The warmth of his sweet saliva floods your mouth and you have to moan in some air.

“‘mmmsorry, sunny,” San mumbles, and you’re so sure that there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips, when he knocks his head back. “Couldn’t wait. Hehe.”

His lips peck yours, as he’s working his finger inside you, rotating it around your deepest spot. Sighs leave your mouth every chance you get, as you try to not be overflowed by the pleasure that’s stirring your guts and cutting off your breath.

“You feel so good,” you breathe out, “Can you feel it too, Sannie?”

“Hmm?” San is more than a bit out of breath now, warming up the fabric over your eyes with the loud exhaling through his nose.

“Can you feel how… Can you feel how much I love you?”, you ask, but before San can answer you, you grip into his wrist again, gathering your confidence through your pleasure, “How fucking aroused I am because of you?”

“God, Y/N, I can feel it,” San huffs, and then pants with his cock twitching at your unforeseen blunt courage, “You’re so wet for me… Only for me… Oh, sunshine, I love you so much.”

Though you can’t see how he’s biting his lip in excitement, San is moving his finger in and out of your hole while shuffling to your lower body, gripping your ankles with his free hand to gently place them over his shoulders.

“Sun, can I eat you out first?”, San asks, his voice running warmly over your abdomen, as he licks his fingers clean, “You can wait for me, can’t you, Y/N?”

“Wait for you–?”, you whirr, feeling exactly how thick and calloused San’s finger is inside you, lubed up by his spit, not being able to feel anything else, “Wait for wh- what?”

“Wait for me to fuck you, because right now, sunshine, I want to, god no, I need to eat you out, please, baby.”

Overwhelmed by his sudden lust-soaked rambling, you’re left with no other chance than to search for San’s neck, trail up his head and grab your boyfriend by his hair, let it tangle between your fingers, as San breathes against your dripping pussy. “Mnhh, do whatever you want tonight, Sannie. I want you to.”

“I want you, Y/N. ‘Want you so fucking much, sun… God, I don’t know how I waited, either.”

You chuckle and feel how the couch brushes against your back, leaving some phantom scratching there, after San pulls you closer by your hips, his forearms stationed around your pelvic bone.

“... So worth though, fuck.”

A sigh escapes your opened mouth, as San licks up your cunt one time, his hot tongue gliding up the wetness with ease. “Hngh,” you grunt, pulling San’s hair, and since your boyfriend hasn’t re-entered his finger, you clench around nothing, needing to be stuffed again, preferably by his cock.

“You taste so fucking good,” San grunts back, already sounding like he’s drunk and delirious, lapping over your clit with his tongue while panting like a dog, “so so fucking delicious, sunny.”

“S- Sannie, oh my god,” you react to how your boyfriend sprints over your sensitive nub, your heightened senses drowning you in your own slick, as you hear how San’s tongue creates squelching, wet sounds.

“Hmmm? Feels good, huh?”

“Sannie, s-so good, god– you’re so– fuck fuck fuck–”

“What am I?”, San asks tauntingly. It seems he’s found some fun in the manner you’re tripping over your own words at the cause of his tongue. You don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning, you can feel that he’s enjoying himself by how his chuckle heats up your cunt even more. “Tell me, sunny, what am I?”

“You’re so– good! Sannie! Fuck, Sannie, you’re gonna make me–”

“Make you cum? Already?”, San grins, his fingers working you a beat that could only be described as irregular, him pumping in and out and licking you up and down so fast, he leaves you no time to recover from the last thunderous pleasure. “God, I love you so much, ‘m gonna make you cum so fucking often, all the time,” San murmurs, letting his mind roam free, your arousal coating his lips and tongue, while you tug his hair to keep yourself from choking on your own breath, as it becomes more stagnated and needier, filling out your lungs with helpless pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, oh my god,” you whimper, eyes rolling back that you are seeing bliss and bliss only.

“Gonna cum?”, San husks and thrums against your sweet spot until your thighs tense up, “are you cumming, sunny?”, his fingers continuing to ram into you, “cumming for me?”

“Yes, uh- oh my god, yes, yes, yes–”, it splurts out of you, “yes, yes, yes, YES!”

“Thaaaat’s it…”

You push your legs together, San’s head clutched between your thighs, as his tongue runs over your clit that little stars begin to form in front of your unseeing eyes, your first orgasm resonating through your body, his voice vibrating on your cunt.

“Good girl…”

“F- f- fuck,” you whimper, your stomach crunching together, and you feel San’s thumb caress your abdomen, as he places wet kisses all across your pussy.

“Sannie,” you breathe out, falling to the back in exhaustion, as your boyfriend pulls away and kisses all of your legs down to the calves, folding you together even more.

“Yes, sun?”, he asks, and massages your hips.

“I wanna see you, Sannie...”

“Oh yeah?”, San chuckles.

You nod and tug at the bandana around your eyes, but it’s too tight. “Please, Sannie, I wanna see you so bad… I wanna see my handsome boyfriend,” you murmur, your cunt still pulsating between your legs, barely recovered from your orgasm.

“Yeah?”, San hums and leans forward, his jeans pressed against your wetness, as he gets his hands behind your head and loosens up the knot. “Careful, sun,” he whispers, kissing your temple, as he slowly removes the fabric from your eyelids, the dimmed lights flickering into your vision.

“There you go,” San hums and slides the bandana away, letting it sit behind your head, as he looks down at you. Your eyes struggle to see immediately and you have to strain your eyebrows, but your boyfriend patiently just watches your pretty face get used to seeing again. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer and blink with some force. San slithers his hand against your neck, his thumb sitting at your jaw, as your eyesight assuredly returns.

There he is, grinning, just like you expected him to, but what you didn’t expect is how absolutely messy you’ve made him. His red, fiery hair is disheveled, ruffled, sticking out to all kinds of directions, his lips are puffy and still wet from kissing you and eating you out, his thin breath leaving his mouth.

“Felt good, huh?”, San asks, rather rhetorically, as you subconsciously lean your face into his handhold, in awe of how handsome your boyfriend is and how lucky you are he’s yours, as his lips peck yours.

“Mhm,” you chuckle, a bit weakly, but with your hands skidding along his sweaty silhouette, it should become quite clear that you’re not finished. “I want more, Sannie, please.”

“Aww, can’t get enough of me?”, your boyfriend croons and lets another hand slide behind your waist to– “I’ll get you all you want, my love,” make you sit on his lap, or rather on his abs, after he tilts his body to the back with you in his arms and scuffs his baggy pants from his legs.

“Speaking of which, I thought we might wait until we’re home,” San admits and kicks his jeans away, “so I got no condoms on me, sunshine.”

“Mmm, Sannie, you know we’re okay,” you smile and kiss him. “Your bandmates don’t care about stuff like this…”

“Sorry for caring about you?”, San grins and pinches the tip of your nose. “So you’re fine with me just pulling out, yeah?”, he asks, as if you haven’t talked about this over and over again, but you keep on that smile and caress his cheek.

“Yes, Sannie. It’s all okay, and I want you so bad right now, please.”

“Alright,” San smirks and kisses you back, propping up his legs, so you slide onto his crotch.

“How do you want it?”, he asks, and you can feel how hard and throbbing hot he is in his boxer shorts, as you grind on his length. “I-I don’t know, Sannie, I want it all,” you laugh, airily, your slick adding to the wet patch that has been created by his pre-cum.

“You wanna watch me how I fuck into you?”, San prompts, and kisses your collarbones. “Uh-huh,” you sigh and throw your head to the back. “Please fuck me so you can see what a mess you make me, Sannie.”

San laughs. “I already saw that, sun,” he says, playfully teasing you, and gently grabs your legs, so he can lift you up and get his legs away from the couch and his feet on the floor.

You sit on the couch how a couch is supposed to be used, your back leaning into the cushion, San now standing in front of you, cups his own erection through his boxer shorts, grunting into his hand.

“This is your fault,” he says, snickering, pulling off his underwear, his cock bolting out, after it passes his waistband. “God, Y/N, how could I ever concentrate on my drums when I have my perfect girlfriend sitting in front of me, huh?”

You press your lips together, ignoring the fact that Sun Set can, in fact, concentrate on his drums, but San is merely explaining to you that with every song he plays passionately, uses his all of his body to accompany the music with energy, you, Y/N, live in his mind to excite him.

San gets your legs between his arms, anchoring your inner knees at his bicep, and your hand works automatically to grab his erection and pump it.

Realizing you haven’t given him an answer because you were just too amazed by his body, you inhale to speak, but San leans down and kisses you solicitously.

“Sunshine,” he breathes out, looking you deep in the eye, as his forehead is almost pressed against yours, “can you put it in by yourself?”

You lick your lips, the last kiss lingering ardently on the flesh and lead San’s cockhead to where your cunt is waiting, ready for his girth.

“Sunny,” San grunts, and as your hole stretches out with his pelvis driving inwards, he kisses you on your neckline repeatedly. “I love you so much, I love how you sound, feel and look like, how good you are to me,” he rambles, immediately sinking into a place of pleasure. “I love everything about you, Y/N.”

He may not be a singer, not even a background vocal, but off-stage, San always makes sure you know what a great girlfriend you are by moaning, whimpering and groaning it, sometimes just to himself– mindlessly thrusting into you, or directly into your ear, so his voice buzzes through your head.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you whine, head falling to the back and bouncing against the backrest after his whole length is inside you, “So good, Sannie, please don’t stop.”

San confirms your comfort and hauls his hips backwards to snap inside again with a slight smack against your hamstrings. You both moan and once San has found a steady pace, the room fills with your voices and sounds of your skin meeting in a clap.

“Harder,” you grunt, and this is San’s command he will never not listen to, even when he’s still working his hips in and out of you, figuring out a way to comply immediately. He grins wide and goes through his hair, before he leans deeper into your body, taking a step closer as he does so– repeating your words by chuckling, “harder?”, folding your knees together and pushing them over to the side.

“Y- yes, please.”

“Harder,” San repeats again, and exhales the word out his mouth, his hand gripping into your hip. “As,” he grunts, thrusting into your cunt with all he’s got, “you,” again, while fixating you in place, “wish,” and again, “my love.”

You both inhale some air, but out of your mouth, it comes out a distorted moan, when San picks up in speed and rams himself into you with no mercy, barely any opportunities to secure yourself on the cushion beneath you. The couch begins to squeak with San’s rough movement, your body being rocked over, and your head becomes light, the expanding tickle in your abdomen binding itself together into a knot of pure pleasure that’s preparing to release.

Silence is sweet, but clamor can be so savory; the sounds of the springs under the cushions mix up with his stagnated gasping, and with San’s absolute undefeatable sense for rhythm makes it sound like he’s creating a drumbeat with his body, the couch bangs against the wall, increasingly sending your brain into overdrive. San’s cockhead hits the deepest spot in your cunt repeatedly, over and over again, pushing your buttons that makes you feel like your thoughts are leaving your head within your whiny moans.

“Oh, fuuu-uuuck,” you gutter, voicing out your pleasure through all of the rutting, your eyes disappearing behind your head, and San’s neck shimmers in sweat, his Adam’s apple glistening, as he unfalteringly shoves forward and outward, grunts and groans reverberating in his throat. His face is tightened together, mouth remaining open, as he watches you slowly lose it, the prettiest of sounds entering his ear which boost his stamina.

“Fuck, sun, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers and rams himself through you, his hips working desperately for his release, ignoring how the couch is being unsettled and broken with each of his hard thrusts, and his hand is dug so deep in your hip, the skin has turned slightly red. “Are you cumming?”, he grunts, and despite how much your head is bobbing anyway, you nod and whine out, “yes, yes, yes, Sannie, I’m cumming–!”

Your eyelids feel heavy, and your body floats in orchestral pleasure as you cum on San’s relentless cock, gripping into the couch with your fingernails, as your back arches, cunt tightening around San.

“God, baby, I love you so much, I love you so so much, Y/N, my sunshine, my–”

San pistons his cock into your puffy pussy with an unmeasurable speed, the shrill squeaking of the springs overtoning his needy whines, the banging against the wall being resemblant of his rough body-movement, and droplets of sweat drop of your body, as your boyfriend pulls your over by your hip. His hot cum spurts out and lands on his own abs, as well on your stomach, and you heave in exhaustion, laughing weakly.

His hand pumps out the last drops of ejaculation out his cock, and even if his cock remains hard and twitching, San falls to the front and hugs your sweaty body, kissing your cheek and lip alternately.

“That was,” you chuckle, watching how San has to brush his drenched mane to the back, “amazing, Sannie.”

“Yeah?”, your boyfriend asks and strokes your shoulder. “You forgive me?”

“Hm?”

“For the headaches, sun. Do you feel better now?”

You snicker and share a short, but very gentle kiss with San. “I feel so good, Sannie, thank you.”

His dimples pop out and San fetches your clothes, whilst rubbing his head against yours, nuzzling his temple into your scalp. “I’m glad I could relieve you, sunshine.”

San turns his head around and searches for something to clean up the cum with, and all he finds is his bandana on the couch. “Hey, I’ll wash this, alright?”, he laughs, when you send him a judgmental look, and to calm you down he pecks your forehead.

“Help me get my clothes on, please,” you murmur, and as you feel your body going lax, San immediately grabs your underwear, shorts and his hoodie so you don’t feel cold again. “Mm, I should get you more of my stuff,” he smiles, after he’s put the oversized clothing on you, “you look so cute in my hoodie, sunny.”

“Really?”, you answer, voice guttural, feeling a bit sheepish under San’s affectionate gaze, you being the only one that’s clothed, while he remains pretty much naked, skin sweaty and steaming.

“Yes, love, but honestly, you always look amazing, Y/N...”

Your eyes were drooping down, but you couldn’t have missed how San’s voice was deeper and huskier than it should have been.

“Baby… Please… I’m exhausted…”

When you squint, San is licking and biting his lower lip and because he is so exposed, you can see how his cock is glistening again, while you can only leave out a sigh. Your boyfriend’s stamina and energy should be studied…

“Sorry, you’re just so hot,” San chuckles out and gets his boxer shorts on. “Body and mind do what they want sometimes.”

“... And you want me, I get it, okay… God, Sannie.”

“Yeah. I want you so much.”

You, sat on the couch, watch him again, Sun Set, how he’s scratching his neck, his impassioned pulse beating in his muscular chest, beating for your gaze, you, his girlfriend’s voice, your words, your entrancing existence, the melody that guides him through his life.

A playful chuckle whirs in the silent practice room, and your eyes meet his, as you look up to San.

“I guess we’ve got to take a shower at home.”

Give me a command, and I'll do what you ask 'Cause my favorite music's your "Uh, uh"

related hard thought "for you(r) love" : read it here

#cromernet #choi san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #choi san fluff #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #chokkiwa #chokko

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melanated-writersblock · 6 months

Text

(O.M.G.P) One Month Grace Period

Toji x Chubby/Plus-Size!Black!Female!Reader

~No Nut November is over, and Toji couldn’t think of anything more exciting than turning you into his free use slut to bring in the new month😘

A/N & Warnings: I’M SORRY YALL I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE STORY IT IS LONG AS FUCK!!! But it’s not just porn with no plot!!! (For those of you that aren’t just in it to get mentally dicked down, I wrote a prologue! The link is below and can be read before you start this fic!)

LIKES ARE COOL, BUT COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE BETTER! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO DON’T COPY MY SHIT. I WILL KNOW.

Content: Multi-sex scenes, praise/degradation, free-use so dub-con, Oral (f receiving), a small bit of spit kink in there, fingering, shower sex, couch sex, kitchen sex, bedroom sex, unprotected sex, What did NLE Choppa say? MEAT TO MEAT! WALL TO WALL! COOCHIE TO MY BALLS!🗣️ (18+ MDNI)

SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: Freaky Bih from Da A - Louisvt, Fuck The World - Brent Faiyaz, What You Need - Don Toliver, 2AM - SZA, Ambré’s Interlude - Destin Conrade, Animosity/ Dear Xodi - Johnny Rain

Prologue - November 30th

December 1st

12:45 AM.

Your thighs quivered as Toji pounded into you relentlessly, the lewd sound of skin slapping as his precum mixed with your wetness filled the room. It felt too good, you didn’t know whether to scream or just shut up and take it. Between Toji having one arm over you bracing the headboard and the other pushing your thighs back, knees near your chest, you felt yourself getting a little too close. “Oooh- Toji, I’m gonna….oh fuuuhhhkkk~” Toji chuckled at your mewling, “Look at you, only 45 minutes in and you’re ready to cum on my cock like a greedy little slut.” His pace slowed, almost painfully. “I didn’t give you permission to do that just yet, Princess.”Watching his girth slide in and out of you, Toji brings two fingers to the base of his dick where your cream spills out with each thrust and sucks his fingers clean. You can’t help but moan at the sight of something so sinful yet passionate, you clench around him as his slow pace persists. Too far gone and busy chasing ecstasy, you didn’t notice Toji move his arm from gripping the headboard to cradle the back of your head as he leaned his weight into you, with his mouth next to your ear. “Yeahhh you’re clenching around me so tight, you’re such a fucking slut. Taking this dick like the good little bitch you are, you’re so fucking wet for me.” “Unnnhhh~” “Ooohhh, yeah. Yeah?” “Yes-yes-yes~fuccck!” “Come on Baby, I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me~” “Toji don’t make me……fuck…….please…..Toji pleaseee~” His pace picks up, “How hard was that, Hmm? You’re too shy to ask me to cum but you’re making a mess on my cock with no problem.” As his thrusts get harder he cradles your head, blocking it from hitting the headboard, his fingers weaving through your box braids, your floral bonnet long gone, thrown somewhere on the nightstand. You hold onto his sturdy arms for some sort of anchor, as you feel your soul quite literally about to leave your body. You let the sudden wave of pleasure take over your body as you shudder, mouth open, screaming vulnerably, eyes closed, with tears brimming. “Yesss, cum for me, give it to me, give it to me. Ohhhh, Good Girl!”

9:19 AM.

“Ah fuckkkk, that’s it~” Toji hoisted you against the tiled shower wall with your full legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you, the supple flesh of your ass moving with ease as he guides you onto him, the steam of the hot shower shrouding the entire bathroom in a thick fog. Your morning routine took a turn when your shower time got sabotaged by Toji and his morning wood. So here you were, getting lifted up and impaled on his dick like you weighed absolutely nothing. Still dazed from the midnight session, the pleasure was intense, and you were honestly, still kinda sensitive. You leaned your back against the warm tiles and pushed your hands on his sculpted chest to brace yourself and lessen the force of the thrusts, but each time you’d lean against the wall he would lean back so your full weight was on him and your breasts were flush against his chest. Despite your voluptuous stature, he was able to manhandle you and throw you around like a simple bag of sugar. One of his many redeeming qualities, and admirable…..but not in this situation. “Come on Baby, you were being so good for me earlier. You sensitive?” You couldn’t speak, and he knew it. Toji got off at the thought of you still being fucked out and a moaning mess. It haunted his dreams all November. Imagining how many ways he could make you cum on him, scream and writhe in pleasure, all while he’s still chasing his first high.

12:04 PM.

You knew the kitchen incident would have to be addressed at some point, but this isn’t how you expected it to go. “Move your fucking hand.” “Toji pleaseeee, you’re gonna make me cum again~” “That’s the whole point, now move your hand and keep your legs open.” You were in the process of making lunch because you and Toji agreed that you both were hungry, but apparently you weren’t on the same page. Toji made quick work of lifting you onto the kitchen counter and throwing your thighs over his shoulders before going to town. Looking down at him from your seated position, his tousled black hair visible as he laps up your juices. “You taste so fucking good Princess~” Toji was wearing you down, every single word out of his mouth brought you that much closer to your next orgasm, “~Thank you”. He stops for a moment to give you a kiss and you moan, tasting yourself on him. “You’re being so obedient” Toji spits, and the long string of saliva slowly trickles down from your clit to your pussy. You look at him full of awe and arousal at how irrationally hot that little trick was. Laughing at your reaction, he spits on his middle and ring finger before plunging them into your dripping pussy. Starting off slowly in a “come hither” motion, he watches as your eyes roll back at the sensation, using his second hand to toy with your clit. “Aww, my obedient little fuckdoll, looks so cute when she’s gonna cum.” FUCK, you couldn’t take it anymore, he’s too good at this. He didn’t even cum yet!

4:32 PM.

“Shiiiiiit!” You cry into the plush sofa armrest as you make poor attempts to squirm away from Toji’s firm grip on your wide hips as he pulls you back onto him. Your ass ripples as he speeds up his pace at an almost inhuman speed, your whimpering and cries growing louder. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Toji’s brutal pace finally started to falter, something that rarely happens…meaning he’s definitely close. He pulls out, and some of his precum mixed with yours spills out of you. “Not yet Princess, get up for me.” Seeing your dumbstruck state, Toji peels your dazed frame off of the armrest. He sits at the edge of the sofa, legs parted and sits you on top of him with your back to his chest and your legs spread on either side of his. “Theeere we go~”, Toji slides his throbbing dick along your pussy as you shudder, leaning your body back against his in a moment of recovery, resting your head back on his shoulder. He kisses your neck before moving to your ear to whisper, “Here’s what’s gonna happen…I’m gonna finish fucking your brains out, and you’re gonna cum again while I fill you up. Okay?” All you could do was sigh. “Nod, if you understand Princess…” you shake your head subtly still catching yourself. Toji noticed this, and gave you time before snaking his arm around your tummy. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He slides into you, and you cry out, “Shhh, shh, shh, breathe. You’re okay.” His pace starts to pick up, “Ahhhhhhhhh~” “I knowww, Baby, I knowww, Fuck!” Toji’s words started to slur as he continued to fuck you, a creamy mess pooling at his lap as you both began seeing stars, “Fuuhhkkk you look so pretty like this, shit. You want me to cum inside of you, hm? You want me to fill you up? Turn you into my…..fuck…..my little cumdrunk slut?” “Unnnggggg fuck, Toji, Yeeeeesssss~” You couldn’t help yourself as the tears began to fall, you were in too deep (and so was he), and too far gone to know what the fuck was going on anymore. Your climax washed over you like a tsunami….so strong until you didn’t even realize you squirted all over Toji and went unconscious for 10 seconds. Coming to, Toji was already grabbing a blanket and water for you, “Good Girl, you did amazing cumming all over me like that. I’m so proud of you.”. You smiled, nestling into him as you settled down. Finally, a moment of peace. On the verge of nodding off, you couldn’t help but feel a particular unsettled energy. You look at Toji, who seems relaxed…but not the type of relaxed that someone that just had an orgasm should be. “Toji?” “Hm?” “You didn’t finish…did you?” He looks at you with a mischievous grin, “Not one bit.”

This is going to be a looong month.

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seeingivy · 6 months

Text

fine line

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content warning: mentions of SA, addiction, bad workplace environments, shitty adults - protect your peace my babies

an: one I saved sparks for the next chapter so I don't like give someone a heart attack. and brace yourself pookies. this ended up at 16k. also, lmk if the format is confusing. but any memory that's embedded between dialogue is basically being shown in the video - it just makes more sense for me to write it as a visual

songs mentioned: ever since new york by harry styles, clean by taylor swift, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift, and fine line by harry styles

previous part linked here

Tell me something, tell me something You don't know nothing, just pretend you do I need something, so tell me something new Choose your words 'cause there's no antidote For this curse Oh, what's it waiting for? Must this hurt you just before you go?

Eren lets the video play for a whole minute before he abruptly reaches for the remote from your hand and stops the film from playing. The song is burning in his ears - the clip of him blowing out the candles at his tenth birthday party searing his eyes - and the increasing, immense pressure that’s been building, ever since you came back to set, comes to a head in that second.

So much so, that he has to stop the video. Like fully, take the remote from your hands and pause the video. And when he realizes what he’s done, looking over to his side and finding your wide eyes staring at him, and he swallows the lump of shame that’s in his throat and makes his best attempts to back track.

He’s already messing this up. Royally.

“Right. I’m sorry, Y/N. Here.” he murmurs, placing the remote back in the space between the two of you, as he nervously interlocks his own fingers within each other.

Eren’s mind is in a hundred places right now. Granted, he’s always been one to be stuck where he shouldn’t be, but the regret is scorching deep through him now.

Maybe he should just tell you straight out. Or take you to Seattle now so that you could all talk about it in person. Or he could have asked Connie to stay, just so that he had some type of moral support instead of your big doe eyes waiting for answers, but-

“Are you okay, Eren?” you ask.

Eren looks over, mustering his best peachy smile, as he shakes his head.

“No. I’m fine! I just…had a muscle spasm…. You can play it, it’s just-”

You squint your eyes in response to his shitty defense, which Eren was expecting, because you were always acutely aware of how Eren was feeling. He was almost convinced that you could read his mind at times, that maybe some part of how he grew up left that part of him underdeveloped, that made him so soulless and unaware when it came to other people.

Or that really, some part of you still understood him in the way you always seemed to be able to. In a way that no one else really had. Because few could bear close to you - Lana and Connie, even Sukuna to some extent - but there was just something about you specifically that saw him exactly how he was.

That you always knew his intentions, that he almost never had to say them to you. He never had to explain that big mess that was going on in his head because you were always filling the gap and settling it down before he could even get it out. Like there was some secret language being spoken between the two of you every time you made eye contact.

He’d figure that this part of the two of you - he had all but demolished it the second he opened his mouth back in Seattle. But it remains whole and intact and is extremely bad for that flaring hopeful feeling that he gets when he’s around you again.

That the two of you could return back to what you were before, in some shape or form.

Eren sighs.

“I’m sorry. I just…got overwhelmed for a second. You can play the video. I-I promise I won’t pause it this time.”

Your eyes soften - and Eren’s heart twinges - as he musters a smile for you.

“Are you okay to be watching this with me? I can always watch it alone, Eren.”

“Yeah, I-”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable…granted, I’m not sure exactly what it is that I’m watching, but if this…makes you anxious than I don’t want to force you to stomach it just for me.”

Eren’s heart twinges. That you’re still the same as he left you, so loving that it’s flowing out of you.

“It’s not just for you. Not that I’d be opposed to doing it but-”

Eren swallows hard.

“I should be here, Y/N.” he murmurs.

“Okay. Well-”

“And you’re watching a movie. A documentary feels like…the wrong word for it? But I guess that’s what it is?” Eren murmurs.

“A documentary?”

Eren swallows hard.

“Do you remember that interview you did? When you became a triple threat?” Eren asks.

You nod.

“This is like if I did the interview. Like songs, album, the whole thing. And if other people were involved. And-”

“Album? You made an album, Eren?” you ask, suddenly excited at the prospect of it.

Eren was never one to push too hard into music, since he felt that his talents clearly resided in acting. The few times that he had written something was because certain things, mainly you, had left him so inspired and your little rambligns and notes had rubbed off on him.

And when he missed you terribly, it seemed that the only thing that seemed to remedy it in some sense was writing songs about it. Granted, Lana almost kicked him out of her house for the sad piano he always seemed to be playing, which she claims wasn’t a good influence, but it made a good backtrack for the movie.

“Yeah, well. You’re quite the inspiration.” Eren respond.

You roll your eyes, lightly reaching over to shove his shoulder. Except he grabs your hand right before you can, his eyes fixed on his hand all but engulfing yours.

“I’m being serious. You-you’re the only reason that I wanted to do this. That I was able to.” Eren whispers.

You tilt your head to the side.

“You’ve always been like this. So…adamant on the side of talking about things. About not holding it in. I remember when you did the whole “The Man” thing with Historia you literally had me scared shitless. That people were going to put your head on a stick and start coming for you.”

“I remember. But they didn’t and-”

“And then you did the same thing with Lana. About Ricky - and you don’t even know the half of it when it comes to that guy. You’ve proven it to me time and time again. That maybe…talking things out is the best way to do it. And granted, I’ve taken so long to get to that point but I-”

“It’s okay. I just-”

“It’s not okay. I want you to know that I don’t think what I did was right in any way. I literally made the wrong decision at every turn, and hurt you because of it, and I’m so sorry that I did because you have to know that you mean-”

Eren freezes, as you wrestle your hand out of his, and place both of your hands firmly on his shoulders.

“Eren. Just…stop panic explaining. Let me listen first.” you murmur.

“I know. Sorry, you’re right, I just-”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure this is nerve wracking in ways that I can’t understand.” you respond.

“You’ve always understood me.” Eren murmurs, immediately regretting it the second it leaves his mouth.

Eren watches as you smile at him, soft and all the way up to your eyes, as you let go and reach for the remote. You give him a nod as you unpause the video again to a clip of Eren.

At his tenth birthday, blowing out the candles, while he sings in the background.

Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know

The video starts the last place you expect it. With Zeke sitting in front of the camera, hand knotted together in the same way you’ve seen Eren’s a hundred times, as he retells the story of the day his grandmother passed away when Eren was eleven and Zeke was seventeen.

After forty-five minutes, Eren has definitively decided that he hates hospital. The anti-septic smell seems to bite at his nose, the receptionist keeps eyeing them awkwardly over the top of her desk trying to pinpoint where it is that she knows him from, and his parents and Zeke are uncharacteristically silent.

Eren reaches for Zeke’s wrist, which Zeke welcomes with a smile, as they both nervously eye their parents at their side. Eren’s not entirely sure why - since to his understanding, his grandmother is still alive for right now - but his mom has been crying for a better half of the past day, while his dad holds down the fort and does his best efforts to keep it together. Eren appreciates the small smiles that he spares for the two of them every now and then, as they all sit quietly in the waiting room.

Zeke taps Eren on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow him for a walk, which Eren is all but happy to oblige in, as the two of them quietly make their way down the ward.

“Where are we going?”

“Cookies. They have them out for New Year’s Day, Eren.” Zeke responds, looking down to give him a smile.

Eren frowns, forgetting that the start of the new year was so close, as they walk into the little aisle. The room is decorated with hanging lights, left over from Christmas, as the two of them sit on the chairs and split the hard, crumbly cookies between the two of them.

“Is grandma going to die or something?” Eren asks, swinging his legs off the tops of the tall chair as he leans back.

“I don’t know, Eren. Maybe.” Zeke responds, swallowing hard.

“Oh.”

“There’s no need to be sad about it before it happens. But Dad told me earlier, it would probably be today or tomorrow so…you should be aware of that.” Zeke states.

Eren frowns. And Zeke recoils, at his rather blunt way of telling Eren the harsh news.

“He didn’t tell me that.” Eren states.

“Well, you’re younger, Eren.” Zeke responds.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve to know.”

Zeke brings his hand down on Eren’s hair, ruffling with it as he looks out the window.

“That’s why I told you, kid.”

Eren sighs.

“Thanks.”

Zeke shakes his head, as he gestures for Eren to join him at looking outside. The hospital workers are taking down the tree outside, as the two of them rest their windows against the sill and watch the snow fall down.

“Can we have hot chocolate when we go home?” Eren asks.

“You’re old enough to make your own hot chocolate, Eren.” Zeke deadpans.

“But you just make it so much better. Plus, don’t you want to be a good older brother?” Eren asks, giving him his best peachy smile.

“I am a good older brother.”

“You know what would make you even better?”

Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Hot chocolate?”

Eren fakes a gasp.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind! That’s a great idea, Zeke.” Eren responds.

Zeke shoves Eren as the two of them laugh, reaching for another one of the hardened cookies on the platter. And that’s when they’re met with the flash of the camera and three paparazzi standing right behind them. Zeke turns around, entirely confused, as they shove the microphone into his face.

“Zeke. Are do you have any comments on the rumors that you’re a drug dealer?”

“The rumors that I’m what?” Zeke asks.

Eren looks up at Zeke, entirely floored by the question, as the bright lights shine in his face a few more times. Zeke’s standing in front of him, basically obscuring his line of vision, as he watches the confusion spread on Zeke’s face and the way his jaw is tightly held against his skull.

“A drug dealer. Through the funds in your back accounts?”

“That’s not what I used them for. I used them for-”

Eren watches Zeke’s face pale, as he grabs Eren’s hand tightly by the wrist and runs back into the waiting room where their parents are sitting. Except when they reach that spot, the doctor they’d seen hours prior is standing there with them, uttering the last words that Zeke could possibly want to hear at this moment.

“We’re so sorry for your loss but-”

And he’s cut off abruptly, by the paparazzi, who continue to flash more pictures as the Eren takes in the words, his parents crying demeanor, and understands in full that his grandmother is gone. And looks up at Zeke, unable to recognize his older brother for the first time. So meek, so awkward unlike he’s ever seen him.

The video cuts off of the pictures of the four of them - of their pink faces and teary eyes in that waiting room - and back to Zeke, as he continues to explain.

“That was the first time that the rumor had come to the surface, reached me in full. I later found out that there had been multiple reports of it for three days prior, that people had been speculating for days and days, and chose to finally ask me what I had thought when I was in the most headline worthy position. A few feet away from my dead grandmother. And my beloved little brother.” Zeke adds.

You feel Eren shift next you as the video switches, this time to Sukuna. You smile, not having seen him or heard of him in so long, sparing a good thought from the writhing in your chest at the previous story. The mere presence of him, of his voice, makes your chest rumble.

“My name is Ryomen Sukuna. And I met Scott Clarkson for the first time when I was fifteen.”

Sukuna tries his best to not be jealous of his brother. He’s always hated that sick, rotting feeling in his stomach, and he despises that it comes up so unexpectedly, something so negative towards someone who is so unwholly undeserving of it.

Sukuna always thought it was quite ironic that the two of them were siblings. They were such polar opposites - Yuuji being the picture-perfect, kind, intelligent person that he was. Being those things, so good, it just came so naturally to him that he made it look effortless.

Meanwhile, Sukuna wasn’t quite sure why he acted the way he did sometimes. Sukuna knew that he wasn’t a malicious or evil person, that deep down his intentions were always well meaning, but there was a small part of him that had always struggled with that part. He knew that he wasn’t a visicous dog, but he wasn’t sure why he bit.

It was just so hard for Sukuna. Being kind. Effortlessly kind, compassionate, and warm. He’d always say too much, be too loud, or too rude or impolite that it made it made him feel like some part of him was defective. That unbeknownst to other people, who just assumed that Sukuna was just like this, that he was hateful at heart, there was always a withstanding weight of guilt that he held with him wherever he went.

Until he saw an opening. At one of those god awful, stupid networking events that he was always forced to go to.

“Are you Ryomen Sukuna?”

He looks up to find an adult, mid-forties, looking down at him. He’s wearing a nice, pressed down suit as he joins Sukuna on the floor, where he’s been demolisihing the cookie he was given into a crumbled up, chocolate mess.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Sukuna falls into silence, as he tries his best to awkwardly shuffle his mess to the side and be as professional as he could.

“You have a brother, correct?” Scott asks.

Sukuna sighs, knowing all too well what’s coming next.

“Yes, that’s right. He’s over there, standing with the tall, black-haired kid. Kinda sea urchin-y if you ask me.” Sukuna responds, pointing over to the two of them standing by the lemonade.

Scott shrugs, crossing his hands together in his lap.

“Tell me about his work ethic.” Scott asks.

“Well, he’s great. He’s basically the best person to be around - I mean he’s intelligent, smart, and talented. There’s a reason that he’s in almost every movie that you see. And on top of that, he’s extremely patient and kind too. You’d be lucky to work with him, if that’s what you’re considering.”

Scott looks over at him, eyes narrowed.

“That’s your mistake, kid.” Scott states, the look in his eyes cold.

“What do you mean?”

“You should be marketing yourself. Not your brother.” Scott asks.

Sukuna turns his head to the side, confused.

“What? But you asked?”

“That’s the thing. Even if someone asks about him, you should always divert the attention. To yourself. Granted, this is the reason that he’s the one who just starred in a movie while you’re waiting during the Jujutsu Kaisen hiatus.”

Sukuna frowns, an acidic feeling crawling down the length of his throat.

“Well-”

“I’m just saying, kid. You should learn to advocate for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with pushing a few people around, because that’s kind of what this industry requires. You’ve got guts and talent, more than you’re wish washy brother I’m sure of it. I mean, the whole good boy bad boy thing has worked well for you so far, but if you want any chops at a real career, with people like I’ve worked with, you’ll have to solidify on these types of things.” Scott states.

Sukuna looks straight across at the movie poster splayed on the wall. With “Institute Award Winning” and “Scott Clarkson” inscribed in it at the bottom.

“Granted, you’re just a kid. You need someone to give you this kind of advice, an adult who knows their way around the industry. If you ever need my help, you know who to call. I could give you any type of role. Even one as the lead, as the hero, if you ever wanted it.” Scott states, sliding a silver business card into his hands and shuffling off the floor to walk away.

The video cuts back to Sukuna, cracking his fingers as he talks - something you know well is a nervous tick of his.

“The conversation seems quite ironic in hindsight. Scott Clarkson was the first adult in my life, one of many, that didn’t have my best interests at mind. And is most surely the last person you should take advice from.” Sukuna states.

The video switches to Lana - and your heart clenches again, maybe even more than it did for Sukuna - at her long, brown hair and warm, pink cheeks smiling into the camera. You notice that she has a tattoo inscribed on her forearm now, a tiny little teddy bear just above the crease of her elbow, where you and Eren have your fish tattoos.

“I’ve dreamt about being in love since I was a little kid. There was a part of me, that yearned so hard, wanted it so bad, that I would do anything for it. Even convince myself it was real.”

Lana was convinced, for a fact, that because she had seen the worst of the worst, that she could only be subjected to the best of the best.

That she had been so acutely aware, known from such a young age, all the signs of a terrible marriage, a loveless relationship. That you should always thank each other for the small actions, make time to see each other at least once a day, and that a true, earnest relationship takes honest work. Real effort.

And she wasn’t exactly religious per say. But after the night had settled down, the screaming behind her door ceasing in full, she’d lift her head to the sky and whisper it into the air. Because if she put it out there, every night, and wanted it really badly, that it would happen. That manifestation or some higher power or some law of attraction - that saw that she had been through the bad so she deserved the good - would hear her out.

And when she was nineteen years old staring at the two little lines on the pregnancy stick, she realized that no such thing existed. That manifestation was made up, that the higher powers didn’t exist or they hated her, or that maybe she had done something really horrible, so malicious, that she had to be tortured in this life for what she had done in the previous.

Because, of course, she’s pregnant with the last person she’d ever want her kid to have as a father.

There’s an incessant pounding on the door, as she wipes the tears off of her face, and hides the stick in the bowl of the toilet.

“What the fuck is taking you so long, Lana?”

“Nothing, Ricky. I think I might have a stomach bug or something.” she responds, swinging the door open to his unamused face.

He looks up at her, almost sneering, before glancing at her up and down. He returns to aimlessly scrolling on his phone, before talking again.

“Well, you’re still well enough to go out tonight, right? Because I don’t want to go to the bar alone.”

Lana swallows hard, debating her options.

“Um, well-”

“Because I could easily take someone else.” Ricky states.

“No! I’ll come, it’s just that-”

“Perfect! You’re the best.” Ricky states, pressing a kiss to her cheek before padding out of the room.

The video switches again, this time to Connie, slightly blurry through the tears in your eyes. You only realize you were crying because Eren’s hands are quick to swipe the tears away and hold a tissue out for you at your side.. You’re not sure what caused it exactly - the thought of Ricky or of Lana so scared alone in that bathroom by herself - but Eren keeps his hand on your shoulder, grounding you into the moment to focus on what Connie was saying.

“When I was a kid, my mom used to kind of parrot the same stories about me as a kid to every person that she knew. I always used to make fun of her for it, claim that she harped on those four or five stories so hard because she couldn’t remember anything else substantial from my childhood, which was why she felt the need to always tell those embarrassing stories about me.”

Connie breaks a smile, it reaching all the way to the crinkles in his eyes, as he continues.

“But there’s one story that she told, that always used to make me a little bit happy. My heart a little warm, if you will. My mom always proudly recounted, with her hand placed over her heart, that I was the happiest baby. That my doctor had mentioned to her that it was very rare for him to see babies who smiled, so quick in their first day of life, but I had done it when he walked into the room. And since then, my mom has always lovingly called me her smiley boy.” Connie states.

Connie drops his smile, before swallowing hard.

“Which is how I know that I wholeheartedly broke her heart when she came to see me in rehab.”

At the one month mark of being there, Connie was slowly but surely acclimating to the life in the rehab ward. The set routine of the place, the small activities that they did in groups, were quickly starting to grow on Connie and the physical effects of his body fighting against him lessening more every day.

Today was a big achievement for him. He had finally made it through his first night of soundless sleep. And he was looking forward to today, which was Friday, meaning that Eren and possibly Lana would be visiting him. And they’d be so excited, so happy that it was working for him, that he wanted to tell him the second that he got there.

So when the clock hit two o’clock, he excitedly walked in the visiting room to find Eren sitting there, with his steaming bowl of ramen that Eren had promised he would bring him next time. Connie finally understood why you fell in love with him all of those years ago. He’d marry Eren too if it meant he would cook for him all the time.

“Hey Connie.” Eren states, sliding the bowl over to him.

“Eren Bear-en. Where’s Lana?” he asks.

“Right. She’s here. In the waiting room.” Eren states.

“What the hell is she doing out there? Laying eggs?” Connie asks, splitting the chopsticks in his hand as he opens up the bowl.

“Yes, actually. The kitchen came by and told her they were short.”

“Don’t even joke about that because those bitches are crazy. I asked for an extra Jello and from the looks they gave me you’d think I was asking to be their…sperm donor or something.”

Eren snickers, before getting an intense look from the guards on the wall for disrupting the silence, and looking back at Connie.

“No. No, she’s actually keeping your mom some company.”

Connie pales.

“My mom is here?” he states, his voice grating in his throat.

“Yeah, Connie. She doesn’t want to push and-and- she’s more than willing to go home if you’re not ready to see her yet, man. She just really insisted and she means so well that we just brought her along.” Eren states.

“Have you been talking to her?” Connie asks.

“Oh, yeah. She called us almost two days after you got here. We let her know what was happening and she comes by the house a lot. She asks about you the second we get back.” Eren responds.

“Really?” Connie asks, warm tears filling his eyes. Of agonizing, burning regret.

“Really. She’s been waiting till you seemed better, that you were ready to see her. And you don’t have to worry that she’s judging you or upset with you, man. She feels the same as Lana and I do, you- she shouldn’t be a reason for your stress. Or guilt.” Eren adds, emphasizing it as hard as he can so as to convince Connie to at least let her through.

Connie pauses, the thoughts swimming to his mind. The overwhelming regret, that his mom has suffered all the way to meet him here, that she was ready to be at his side, the same way Eren and Lana had. He’s almost grateful that she hadn’t seen him at the worst of it - that he hadn’t shouted choice words at her like he had at Eren and Lana and you - but the embarrassment of having to recount all of that to her was daunting.

But the thought of seeing her again, hearing that she was out there waiting with that heathen Lana, warmed that deep seated love for her in his stomach. That was yearning to see her, to tell her what had happened to him too.

The latter feeling beat out the former one. Which is why he let Eren bring her in with Lana, as she took a cautious seat at his side and Lana slid into the one next to Eren.

“Hi Connie Bear!” Lana states, reaching over to squeeze his hands.

“Hi Lana Bear.” he respond, lifting his hand to do his little hand shake with Lana, which always earns him an eye roll from Eren.

“Bear?” Connie’s mom asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Ah. It’s just a little joke that we have. Eren Bear-en started it.” Connie states, giving him mom a smirk.

His mom smiles, looping her arm through Connie’s, as she lightly laughs into the quiet air.

“Funny. So what would I be?”

“Mama Bear. Obviously.” Connie states.

She pauses, pressing her hand to Connie’s shoulder.

“How are you, Connie? Really?”

Connie smiles, leaning forward on the table and nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“I have some good news actually. For all of you.” Connie responds.

“What’s that?” Eren asks.

“I know that it doesn’t seem like a big deal and all and that people do it all the time but…today was the first night that I slept all the way through without waking up in the past month. In the past year actually.”

Lana and Eren’s eyes immediately light up, which has Connie smiling, as the two of them run over to the side of his table and wrap his arms around him. His mom’s looped into his side, the three of them crushing him in the warmest, softest hug known to man.

“Connie! We’re- fuck. I’m literally crying. I’m so happy for you, kid.” Lana states, reaching forward to pinch the softness on his cheek.

“Okay, you sap. It’s not all that.” Connie responds.

“No but it literally is, Connie. This is huge.” Eren responds, squeezing his shoulder hard.

Connie turns to his mom noticing that she’s been trying her best efforts to quiet her sobs. Connie places a hand on her shoulder, burning with regret, at her downtrodden face.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Connie. My sweet, smiley boy. I’m so happy for you.”

It’s enough to break his resolve, one that he’s been keeping together since he realized that he had all but gone through Jean and Mikasa’s engagement high. And cries straight into her arms, with Lana and Eren across from him, lightly tapping his feet under the table in support.

The video switches, this time to Eren, as you prepare yourself for whatever you’re about to hear next. Because if the previous four were gut punches, you know for a fact that whatever Eren is about to say is going to ruin you.

“Being in love is a privilege.”

You take a sharp inhale.

“There’s something so strange about it, when you think about it. That there can be two people, who share those feelings at the same time. That they overcame something, deeper than rejection or fear, because the feelings were so big, they were so great, that they just had to. And that the person, they really and truly reciprocated it.”

Eren smiles, so wide that his dimples are showing.

“It’s a privilege to be in love. But it’s an even bigger one to be in love, to be loved, by someone like Y/N L/N.”

Eren and Jean, with their ears all but pressed to the door, hear the three knocks and wrestle over each other to open the door. You’re standing there, sheepish and meek as you look down the hall, and Eren reaches for your bag on the floor. Jean gives the two of you a salute, which you laugh at, and which consequently has Eren smacking his hand over your mouth for, as the two of you quickly switch spots.

WIth Jean in your room and you in his. Eren quickly shuts the door, setting your stuff down, as you two give each other excited smiles.

“That was super sneaky, Eren. Like Bond level.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“Right. The two feet in between our doors was so treacherous.”

You smack his shoulder.

“Okay, bitch. You know nothing of my perilous travels. The floorboard creaked. I could hear Levi rustling in his sheets, I swear to god.”

Eren drags your stuff into the room, as he places your bag on the bed.

“What do you have in here? Your entire closet? Why is this so heavy?”

“Well, I had to bring my night time skincare. And my morning skincare. And sometimes I get snacky at night…and my blanket obviously. And my shampoos. Those are non-negoitable.” you respond.

“Well we can’t have you getting split ends now!” Eren responds, sarcastically.

“Don’t even sass me right now because I could go bald without that shampoo.”

“And I have a blanket.”

You scoff.

“I don’t want your cooties, stinky.”

“I don’t have cooties. And mind you, you have to kiss me in a few weeks. My cooties are going to be all up in your face, Y/N.” Eren responds.

“That sounds gross, Eren. Like you’re purposely infecting me with your disease.”

“I’m not infecting you with anything! I don’t even have cooties, you idiot!”

You feign hurt, frowning at him, as you fight the urge to laugh and muster the most important performance of your life yet.

“Eren?” you whisper.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” you murmur.

You watch Eren’s eyes go wide, almost frazzled, as he reaches forward and cups the side of your cheek, the look in his eyes so painful that you immediately feel bad.

“Y/N. Of course, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You’re like…the smartest person I know. Really.”

“Eren-”

“I’m so sorry I said that. I was just kidding, but that was a really stupid joke to make. I haven’t and won’t ever think that about you. Or say it again. You’re so-”

“Eren.”

“And I swear, I’m not going to say anything like that ever again. I know how shitty it can be, especially coming from a guy, and you’re working so hard to be here, more than anyone else, even though your basically the best one and-”

“Eren, oh my gosh, you’re so sweet. I was just kidding, I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” you respond, frowning at him as he looks at you, shoulders relaxing under his touch.

His cheeks are dusted a warm pink, the color trickling down the length of his neck.

“Oh. Wait, really?”

“I was just trying to see what you would say. I wasn’t expecting that and now I feel really, really bad. I’m sorry, Eren.”

Eren sighs, laughing as he reaches forward to pinch your cheek.

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“I didn’t mean it!” you whine, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

“You put that stupid little cute frown on your face and make those sad eyes at me and just expect me to keep fighting with you?”

“Well, yeah! Jean and Connie would fight with me for the rest of their life if they could.”

Eren reaches forward, pinching your cheek once more.

“That’s your mistake.”

“What is?”

“Thinking that you and I are the same as you and Connie. Or you and Jean.”

You feel your cheeks burn, as you nod, reaching for your bag and heading straight into the bathroom to arrange everything on the counter. You start your nightly routine, braiding your hair and placing the little foam headband in your hair as you start to massage all the cleansers and serums into your skin.

Eren pads in after a few minutes, reaching for his toothbrush, as the two of you move around each other in silence. Eren can’t help but watch you in the mirror - with all your little bottles and sweet smelling lotions, so focused as you go about it - that he can’t help but think that he could watch you forever.

“Eren?”

Eren immediately breaks out of his almost trance, spitting into the sink.

“Yeah?”

“You should wear this while you brush your teeth. It’ll keep your hair out of the way.” you respond, handing him a little blue foam headband just like your pink one.

“Huh?”

“Well, your hairs getting kind of long. And Levi told me that he actually wants it even longer for next season a few months ago, so I ordered you one too when I got mine. I keep forgetting to give it to you.” you respond, placing it front of him.

Eren lifts it in his hands, utterly touched at the fact that you had thought of him.

“You- you got this for me?”

“Well, yeah. I kept getting my bangs wet whenever I washed my face. And you basically look like a shaggy dog with that hair so I knew for a fact that you’d need one too. I’m basically the best friend ever if you think about it.” you respond, giving him a peachy smiile.

“You are.”

The video cuts back to Eren, a soft smile on his face as he talks.

“People will take advantage of anything, in the name of business. It’s an easy way in once you find out how to manipulate someone, to make them do things that they would never do normally, to get the exact image that you want. The one that makes headlines, stirs up controversy, to get you trending.”

“You find out that things function very specifically when you work at Stone Studios. And that Scott Clarkson, and his associates, make money from every aspect of the production. He makes money from the movies that he produces and more importantly, from the tabloid company that he owns.” Sukuna starts.

Sukuna sighs, as the pictures flash on the screen.

“Certain things are…manufactured or at least the people doing them are coerced into doing things that are lucrative. Like doctoring drama around certain movies, so that by the time the movie comes out, the drama surrounding it will drive everyone to watch it. Around relationships - because rumors regarding ex-boyfriends and problems between friends create headlines that everyone will click.”

Sukuna’s furious. And when Hyla walks in the room - the three weeks he’s been holding onto his anger - come to a head.

“Who did you tell?” Sukuna asks.

She looks up at him, eyes wide in confusion, as she slouches straight into the bed and continues to scroll on her phone. He joins at her side, reaching for her phone and putting it to the side.

“I’m being serious. Who did you tell?” he asks.

She looks up at him, her expression bordering between bored and oblivious.

“Who did I tell about what?”

Sukuna sighs. Because deep down, that deep rot of feeling betrayed has been gnawing at his stomach for the past few hours. And he wants everything in him, every part of him to believe that the conversation that he had a few days ago - the first real one he’d had in a while - wasn’t just spread all over every magazine he walked past on the way home.

“The conversation we had. About…”

She rolls her eyes, sitting up as she crossed her legs.

“About what? We talk about a lot of things.” she murmurs.

“Yuuji…” he responds.

“Oh! About how you hate him?” she asks.

Sukuan sighs, frustrationg growing up at the premise. At the callousness in her statement. Because not only did she put up a front in the conversation they had - about how guilty Sukuna felt about harboring some negative feelings towards Yuuji since they were always in constant competition - but she was surely the one who must have whispered the story to someone who had given it to a tabloid.

“I don’t hate him, Hyla.”

“No, no I get it. You’re like jealous of him and stuff because he gets all these versatile roles and you basically keep getting the same asshole role. But that’s not your fault, it’s just how it goes.” she responds, shrugging.

He clenches his jaw.

“I get that. I just don’t get why you had to tell someone else.”

“Well, I just told my dad. And you know how he is. If there’s something that’s going to be good for the business, he’s always been the kind of guy to go for it and do what needs to be done.”

“What the hell is so lucrative about my relationship with my brother? We’re filming a fucking movie.”

She sighs, cracking her knucles before she turns to him.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you a secret, but only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Well, I’m not just going to stop being mad at you. I’ve never told anyone that. Let alone my own brother, whose probably finding out about it from a fucking tabloid right now. I’ve never been one - nor am I ever going to be - someone who steps on their own family members to make it in this fucking business.” he states.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Family is everything to you and I get that.”

He sighs, sliding open his phone to the five unread messages from Yuuji on his screen. There a set of pictures of him in front of the headlines at the store and he’s quite literally laughing at the fact that someone could even come up with something so stupid about him.

Because despite it all, Yuuji is exactly what Sukuna says he is. He is the better brother - by tenfold - because he sees the rumors and doesn’t even believe them the second he reads them. Even through they’re true.

“See. He’s such a good guy, he’s not even mad! No harm done!” Hyla states, smiling to herself.

Sukuna leans back against the headboard, fully bothered, so much so that it makes his skin itch, by Yuuji’s texts as he halfheartedly murmurs.

“What were you going to say? Earlier?”

“Oh. Well don’t tell anyone. Especially not the girls okay, because they’d basically kill me. But you know WBS? The tabloid company?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

“My dad owns it. That was actually his original venture. He started it with these two music producers - Danny and Sareen - they work with that Y/N girl from Attack on Titan actually. And sometimes they just kind of….fabricate stuff for news. Whatever sells right?”

Sukuna swallows that bitter, acidic feeling in his throat. That his feelings about his brother, that he shared in confidence, were good enough for the headline.

Good enough to be sold out.

The camera switches back to Sukuna, sitting in the chair.

“I feel kind of stupid in hindsight. For actually liking her, I guess. For believing that any of them were real, earnest people. I’m embarrassed that I stayed for so long, on the premise that I was fighting for something real.” Sukuan states.

“What made you leave?” the producer asks.

“The last shred of self-preservationist instinct I had. I was put into a situation, multiple times, where I felt unsafe. And when it went too far, I decided that I had enough. And that I was going to go out with a bang if I had to. If they want a headline, I’ll damn well give them one.” Sukuna states, smirking.

“You felt unsafe?” the producer clarifies.

“Look. I don’t need to rehash the details out of what happened. I’m sure that you could even find videos of it if you wanted to. But Scott Clarkson, he’s very quick to forget the fact that he’s working with children. I may play adults in my films, but I was very much still a child.”

You pale, the implication entirely clear. You look over at Eren, whose eyes are fixed towards the floor, as you wipe the tears from your eyes, as the video switches back to Eren and Lana who are seated at the table.

“When Levi and Hange ventured out on their own and decided to produce their own show, they ruffled lots of feathers. That’s something I overheard on set quite often before Eren ever started on the show. They were mad, essentially, that they had circumvented the whole producing aspect of it, choosing to be in control of every aspect of the production. And honestly, that they were successful with it.”

“Levi and Hange basically set a standard, especially for other people who were at their class the SWHA cohort. Jujutsu Kaisen basically followed suit short after - with almost all of the people in our class being funneled into either of those two shows. Which was aggravating, because it basically means that people who own the companies, like Scott Clarkson, don’t get their upcoming crop of stars to handpick form.” Eren states.

“Unfortunately for us, that didn’t really quite stop them. It started out with a simple fact - that Scott Clarkson knew for a fact that Eren would refuse to work with him.” Lana states.

“The first time I met Scott Clarkson he had rubbed me the wrong way. Because he refused to acknowledge that Y/N was standing right at my side.” Eren responds.

Eren was painfully aware of the fact of how uncomfortable you were. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was - maybe the fact that you had never been here before or that you didn’t quite know anyone like he did from growing up with them - but he figured that it would be a better idea for the two of you to go outside.

But before he could, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around, to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and Eren can feel you shrink at his side. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before he can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back, before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

“Do you have any projects lined up for your Attack on Titan hiatus?” Scott asks.

“Yeah. Sukuna and I are filming the next Conjuring movie. Though if you’re looking for someone, my friend Y/N-”

“No need. We’re here to talk about you.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I already have a roll. And she doesn’t. And you know how big she’s going to be - she can even sing!” Eren states.

Scott sighs.

“There’s a reason that I’m standing here talking to you. I’m well seasoned in these type of things - just like your parents. I promise you, with a breakout show like that, only one person can come out as the star. Don’t you want to make sure that it’s going to be you?”

“Levi and Hange made it out together. I don’t know why we couldn’t do the same.” Eren responds.

Luckily enough for him, his parents had arrived just at that moment and given him his much needed chance to run away.

“I wasn’t going to sell out that fast. Especially for someone who was so quick to bad mouth my best friend, who was basically the only person that I got to consistently talk to and be with at the time, I….”

“Eren’s very loyal. Let’s just leave it at that. And it’s precisely just because of that loyalty, especially to Hange and Levi who had thrown a wrench in every one of his profits, that they wanted Eren specifically. He has every makings of one of his stars. He has famous parents, an estranged brother, and a girl that can be thrown at the end of every headline.” Lana adds.

Eren sighs.

“The Attack on Titan hiatus was the perfect chance for them to get what they wanted. On one side, Danny and Sareen were building Y/N up. They were pushing her into making albums, way faster than she should have been by the way, adding more and more accolades to her name. And on the other side, they were dragging me into the mud. Purposely switching my movies at the last minute to make sure I was on the shitty one, making award show annoucers make crappy jokes about me so I’d feel like shit.” Eren responds.

The video switches to the last award show that you and Eren had technically attended together. The one where you announced that you were coming out with your second studio album and where you had won Actress in a Lead Role. Except, the video isn’t how you remembered it. Or that this time, you’re actually aware of what had been going on in Eren’s head.

“Here we have an international pop-star, Y/N L/N. Originally a small town girl from Canada, her soft spoken love songs, phenomenal acting, and insane dance act have left no heart untouched.” the announcer states.

Eren looks over at you in the video, his eyes so warm and his smile so wide, as he looks at you proudly.

“And you. What’s your name again? It’s sweet they let fans sit with stars now.” the headliner asks him, eliciting a large amount of laughter from the crowd as he walks on.

That’s when you see it. That Eren’s face immediately dropped and was washed over in shame. And that he got up and walked away.

And more importantly, that you hadn’t followed.

“I later found out that joke was very deliberate. That announcer was told to make that joke about me because they were almost positive that I would leave. And when Y/N won the award - and I was moping in one of the lounges about how much of a failure I was, how she was going to leave me for someone better - Scott Clarkson approached me. In the same way that he had approached Sukuna. Promising me that he could make me a star. That I could meet Y/N where she was and be next to her too.” Eren states.

“It was pretty easy to guess how the rest went. Y/N and Eren being in a relationship wasn’t exactly headline worthy, when they had been basically attached at the hip for years. But you know what was? The two of them breaking up.”

“I obviously can’t speak for Y/N. I don’t know what was going through her head at that point. But from what she made it seem like….Danny and Sareen had asked her to do it. I know that they had asked her to write songs like London Boy and most of the songs on her album for that precise reason, it….doesn’t seem far off.” Eren states.

“It seems stupid in hindsight. To take someone’s advice at the surface level like that and so blindly believe in them. But when you think of the examples that Eren and Y/N really had, people like Levi and Hange who wanted nothing but the best for them, who basically loved them like they were a second set of parents, it’s hard to believe that everyone around you doesn’t really have your best interest in mind. That and the fact that they were fucking nineteen.” Lana adds.

“And that’s when we get to the Girlfriend incident. And more importantly, the day that Lana and I became friends.” Eren states, looking over to smile at her.

Eren had locked the door, and pushed everyone out of the room the second they had stopped watching that stupid music video hours ago. And after the fact, he’s watched it three more times - you and Ricky dancing through the street and smiling at each other - while all he can do is drown in his despair.

That is until he hears a soft sniffling in the hallway behind him and a hushed voice talking on the phone in the doorway. He presses his ear the door, the voice loud, as he catches the ends of the conversation, recognizing that it was Lana.

“Can you just stay with him for a few more hours, please? I don’t think that I can leave.”

“Please. I want to come home really badly too, but they’re already so upset with me after what I said last night that I just-”

“Thank you so much. I really love you, you know that?”

The phone call ends abruptly and Eren, letting his curiosity get the best of them, opens the door to find Lana sitting flat against the wall, with her head in her hands. He can tell that she must have been crying for a better part of the last hour, her hair all unruly and tangled in a way that he had never really seen it before.

Eren shuffles into the spot next to her, against the wall, as he wipes his own red eyes.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks.

“Why? Trying to rub it in my face?” Lana asks, rather miserably.

“No. I just…heard you on the phone.” Eren asks.

Her eyes go wide, as she looks over at him rather frantically.

“What did you hear?” she asks.

“I mean, basically nothing.” Eren murmurs.

The two of them sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the other. That’s until Lana turns to him, a determined look on her face as she talks.

“Are you trying to make me feel shitty because I did it to you?” Lana asks.

“No. I’m not you, Lana.” Eren deadpans.

“I didn’t mean-

“Didn’t mean what? To make me look like a dumbass on stage? Just tell me what the hell is wrong if you’re going to talk so loudly outside of my door.” Eren mutters, irritated.

“Okay. We’re going to play a game, alright? Let’s pretend we’re different people.” Lana states.

“What?”

“I want to talk about something and I’m sure you do too, but it’s weird to do it like this. So we’ll pretend. I’m going to be La-La and you’re going to be Po.” she states.

“Like the Telletubbies….?”

“Yeah. Does that work? You can’t say anything to anyone, because….well that would just be fucking rude.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, Po. The thing is, I feel really bad. I did this really shitty thing to this guy who seems really nice and all. Except, I was standing on stage and they kind of asked me to do it right then and there so I kind of just went with it.”

Oh. Eren gets it. This is her weird way of apologizing.

“Well, why did she do it in the first place?”

She scoffs.

“You’re so nosy, bitch.”

Eren laughs, which has her relaxing her shoulders, before she talks again.

“Eren. Please don’t tell anyone, okay? This is really serious.”

Eren breaks, the seriousness in her demeanour stoppign him.

“I promise. What is it?”

She sighs, holding out a picture to him on her phone. It’s a picture of her and a little boy, with short, curly brown hair.

“This is my son. His name is Theodore, but…I call him Teddy. Like…Teddy Bear? And I feel so shitty, Eren but…they kind of hold him against me sometimes when it comes to things like this. So when they ask me to do things, I just do them.” Lana states.

“They hold you against him?”

“I mean….I try really hard to protect his privacy, Eren. He’s just a kid. I mean, he’s barely even two years old right now. And I know your parents, I’m sure you know that growing up in the spotlight isn’t the best place to be.”

Eren frowns, looking down at the picture. He’s never really quite thought it before, but he thinks that Lana is really pretty. Or more appropriately, that Lana looks very pretty when she smiles. And that he’s never seen her smile like this before.

“I get that. So what do they do? Threaten to tell?” Eren asks.

“I mean, they usually find out where I’m keeping him. I tend to keep him moving from different houses, with security in all that, to make sure that he’s safe from that type of thing. And-”

“Does he stay with his dad?” Eren asks.

Lana sighs, resting her chin against her knees.

“Eren. Ricky isn’t good news. And your little girlfriend or friend or whatever…she’s in really risky territory right now.” she states.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

She almost flinches, withholding of what it is exactly that’s on the tip of her tongue.

“Eren. He’s just not a good guy. You should make sure that someone is with her, that she’s not ever alone with him. Just take my word for it. There’s a reason my son doesn’t get to see him, why I avoid him like the plague.” she states.

Eren can see the tears filling in her eyes - and makes a mental note to drop the topic and relay the information to Connie or Jean later.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Lana.”

“I know. That’s why I feel even worse. I’m really sorry for what I did, Eren.”

“That’s okay. Let’s just make a deal.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll help and you’ll help me. Pacts between Tellytubbies are really sacred.” Eren states, feigning seriousness.

“You’re stupid.”

“And you’re annoying.” he responds.

Lana laughs, teary eyed, as she reaches forward and shakes on it.

“I only became really aware of the problem after Lana had pointed it out to me. And became even more frustrated with them, with all of them, when I had realized what they had been saying to her. Making comments about her body to her, despite the fact that she had literally given birth, and incessantly teasing her about her son, who is basically my favorite person in the world, by the way. That they would purposely put alcohol in her drinks, when she couldn’t drink at the time.”

The clips cut, this time to Eren and Lana, in a different mix of videos of playing with Teddy. You recongize him straight on, as the kid that you had met with Eren before the two of you had talked on the beach, and feel your heart burn at the fact that you had met Lana’s son and not known it. That Lana and Eren had to fight to make sure that he was safe, that she was doing anything for him.

“Eren and I basically had an arrangement. We both had houses off of set in Seattle, that we should shuffle him between, along with my brother Landon. There was someone with Teddy at all times, and at that age, he wasn’t really old enough to question the fact. His mom was always there to put him to bed at night, and sometimes his best friend Eren was there to do it too, so it didn’t mean too much to him.”

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It all started going downhill the week that I got hurt. Because, of course, that’s when Connie arrived on set.”

Lana wasn’t really paying attention when it had happened. Her nose was stuck in her own script, headphones over her ears, as she practiced the next scene she was going to be in.

When she looked up, three minutes after the fact, that’s when she saw it. That Eren was tangled with the cords that were suspending him in the air and that he was hanging unconscious upside down.

“What the hell are you doing? Take him down from there.” Lana states, incessantly shaking at Scott’s shoulder as he watched Eren in the viewfinder.

“What the hell are you talking about, Price?”

“He’s not fucking breathing. What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s acting. Did you not read your script before you got here?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for the crew around him to continue.

Lana looks up, every gut feeling of hers screaming in her stomach, as she runs on to the set, climbing on to the makeshift ladder and reaching for Eren stuck between the strings.

“Eren. Eren, wake up.”

Except he doesn’t budge in his arms, instead swinging back and forth from the way he’s precariously hanging on the strings. She presses her fingers to his neck, his pulse slightly weak under her fingers, as she can feel the tears burning in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just give him a break? He’s been going at it for like four hours.”

“Price. You’re ruining the shot.” Scott states, rather irritated.

“Take him down. Now.”

Scott rolls his eyes, walking over to the switchbox at his side. He reaches for the lever, placing his hand on the stick, as he all but glares at Lana.

“You want it that bad? Here.”

And he pushes the lever all the way down, sending Eren straight to the ground on his head. Lana can feel the panic rushing through her as she basically tumbles down, turning Eren’s head over in her hands, and being met with red, warm blood on her hands. She gives a weary eye to the crew, who phone the ambulance, as she follows in her own car.

“I think that was the first time that I realize that really, truly - these people don’t care about anything but getting the shot. I get that Eren was supposed to look like he was dead in that scene, but tiring him out to get the perfect shot was far from what he needed to do.”

“I sustained a concussion that left me in the hospital for a week. And I had three long lacerations down the length of my back from the harnesses that we were using, that basically sliced it on impact. That I still have scars from by the way.” Eren states.

You reach for Eren’s hand, squeezing hard on his wrist, as the video continues.

“When we finally made it back to set, Connie was there. And it’s not that I don’t love Connie, that I wouldn’t have loved to see him there, but I already knew that it wasn’t going to go well.” Eren states.

Eren sighs.

“I know, logically, that you can’t really blame these things on people. That Connie wasn’t my responsibility and that addiction is a real, physical disease that he had to battle against. But I just can’t help but feel like I could have stopped him if I was there.” Eren states.

“When I got to set, everyone around me hyped me up over the same basic thing. That Eren was out of commission, for reasons that they wouldn’t exactly tell me, and that I should take his spot as the lead. It was only a few days into shooting and that it would be an easy switch if I had just asked Scott if I could take his role.” Connie states.

Connie sighs.

“It was a simple thing that they were telling me. That Eren - he had gotten to be the lead role, hundreds of times over. That Levi had picked Eren out of everyone as the best, that he was extra hard on him because he knew that he could make a star. And that really, I had never gotten the same kind of exposure that Eren had, the type that comes from being a lead.” Connie states.

The video cuts - to videos of Connie and Eren filming on the set of Attack on Titan - the two of them playing pranks on Erwin and Hange together, running around each other between scenes, and laughing at Historia and Ymir walking past.

“Eren is one of my best friends. I would never want to side swipe him like that, so I decided that I was going to ask Eren for the role. And I was really self-assured that Eren would give it to me. Because he’s always been giving in that sense, he always had been with Armin and Y/N, and he would for me too.” Connie states.

“Just to clarify, the reason that I didn’t let Connie take the role at that point was because I had quite literally sustained a concussion from doing it. I was never going to let him step into that - no matter how hard he begged me to.” Eren responds.

“And so I got really hurt by it. And then everyone around me, they kept whispering it in my ear. That Eren couldn’t handle anyone but him being the star. That Eren thought I had no business being there, that I wasn’t made to be in a lead role. And for some reason, I don’t know fucking why, I thought that they were being honest with me. That they were being earnest. They kept bringing up the Girlfriend incident, that Eren was so quick to drag Y/N down the first chance he got, and that he would do the same to me too. I had so much trust in these people that I would do anything to stay friends with them. Because they were real. And unfortunately for me, I did. And one of the shittiest things I ever did was fight with Eren because of it.” Connie stated.

Eren found out, three months after the fact, that Connie had been doing drugs. He had his suspicions, since Connie had been spending so much time around Myka, and acting so weird and skittish around him that something had to be up.

So after he dropped Teddy off to Landon’s and head back to set with Lana, the two of them were prepared to talk to him about whatever it was, to clear the air. Except when they got there and knocked on Connie’s door, they found him lying face down on the desk, fast asleep with a small mound of white powder and a small trickle of blood down his nose.

“Connie. Connie, wake up.” Eren states, rigidly shaking his entire frame.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god, Eren what do we do?” Lana states, her hands on his shoulder as he hears her sniffling in his ear.

“Connie. Dude, you have to wake up now. Come on.” Eren states.

Connie lightly shuffles in his sleep, as Eren backs up out of the way, with Lana behind him. Connie wakes up, half there, as his eyes focus in on Eren and he pales. That Connie’s giving him the most agitated, mean look that he’s ever gotten in his life. That he’s ever seen Connie sport in his life.

“Connie. Hey, you-”

“What do you want, Eren?” he asks.

“We were just worried about you, dude. We haven’t talked in so long, and that’s our fault, but-”

“I’m not good enough for you, right? You’re too big of a star to be friends with someone as low on the food chain as me right?” Connie responds, seething.

Eren frowns.

“Connie, hey man. What are you talking about? We’ve been like family since we were little. Why would I-”

“Why didn’t you give me the lead role? Why the fuck are you and Lana always sneaking around behind my fucking back? Don’t play the family card in my face when you’re the one who fucking abandoned me, Eren.”

“Connie. I’m really sorry that I-”

That’s when Connie lifts his hand, jolting it straight across Eren’s face. He can feel the immediate, immense pressure on his nose, the bright red shooting out of his nostrils as he looks back up at Connie.

“Connie. We can’t-”

“We can’t what? You won’t fight me?”

“No, Connie. I’m not going to fight you.” Eren states.

“Why not? You’re still too good for me, aren’t you? You’re too good for Y/N, too good for me, too good for anyone who fucking got you there.” Connie states, swinging again.

Connie’s movements are loose, uncoordinated, which is when Eren reaches for his arm, just to pin him to the ground underheath him. There’s a sweltering guilt when he does it, holds Connie down, and it only increases in magnitude when Connie cries underneath him, cursing his name.

“Two weeks after my fight with Connie, my worst possible outcome occurred. That I have friends, who love me more than anything, and wanted to surprise me for my birthday. Y/N and Armin came to Seattle. And Y/N….she wanted to tell me that she still loved me.” Eren states.

“That was the worst possible time that they could have shown up. Because they were this close to leaking my secret, basically telling me that it was any day now that it was going to happen, after finding out that Eren and I were planning on breaking our contracts, just to be out of the situation for good. We had even reached out to Levi and Hange about it, which they had found out about very fast.” Lana states.

“I saw Y/N for the first time at my birthday dinner and was immediately floored at the fact that she was there. And Armin had quickly told me, when I had scurried away to the bathroom to check on her, so I knew what I had to do. I left my birthday dinner, with Hyla, to break up with her then and there. When I knew that I had a chance at getting Y/N back.” Eren states.

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”

Hyla gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, with his arm secured around his waist. And the second that he can drive them slightly out of earshot, back to the house where he can talk to her in private, there’s a weight that’s lifted off of his chest when he gets to say it.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Eren states.

Hyla frowns, squinting her eyes at him.

“Okay but like…technically, we aren’t even dating. It’s just a publicity thing.” Hyla states.

“Whatever this is. I want out. I-I’m not doing it anymore.” Eren states.

Hyla laughs, sitting criss crossed on the couch, as she looks up at him.

“My dad is going to be super pissed at you, Eren.”

Eren smiles, lighter than he had been feeling in the four years that he had been stuck in this godforsaken house. Because truly, the reason that had brought him here, didn’t matter anymore.

Levi and Hange were on his side - and they were going to help him out of this - and more importantly, you were back. The two of you were going to be together again, despite wherever the hell the two of you were going to be stuck.

“I don’t care. My contrat is almost up anyways. And I can imagine that the same headlines get boring over time, Hyla. I think it’s time to call it quits.”

Eren looks down at her, busily typing away on her phone, as she looks up at him.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Eren?” Hyla states.

“Yeah. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Fine. You can meet with my dad tomorrow to talk about it. He’s been thinking about bringing Ricky James on for a while anyways.” Eren states.

“Be my guest. You guys would fucking love him.” Eren states, running off.

“I was still on Cloud Nine that night. And it was making my skin itch, knowing that Y/N was like four feet away from me and we were going to be together again. So I woke her up in the middle of the night and took her to the beach outside of one of the houses that Lana and I owned. And-”

Eren tears up in the video, as you fight away the warm tears that are welling in your own eyes.

“During that entire night, I-I was so fucking happy again. All of the things that seemed so consequential to me when I was seventeen, that I needed to be at the same level as Y/N to be with her - which would basically be impossible, because she was always going to be better than me - seemed so ridiculous. The two of us, we just got to be real people in the second. The way that we always got to be when we were together.” Eren states.

“The following morning, Scott had shockingly agreed to let Eren and I be dismissed from our contracts, given that we finished off the press deals that we had going on. Which included the interview that we were going to do on the Life in Love podcast. Which should have ben our first, glaring red flag. That of course, we were never going to be let off that easy.” Lana states.

“It was simple. I guess-I guess I was so fucking happy that I got to talk about me and Y/N, what the two of us coming back together meant to me, that I put it all out there. And the WBS paid off Life in Love and edited the version of the podcast that was released.” Eren states.

“Granted, the part that’s always floored us that people never questioned it once. That the podcast clip that was released was barely ten minutes, when the episodes are usually an hour. That the podcaster has to ask questions to provoke the answers and that they weren’t even in the fucking video. And most of all - the fact that I didn’t even fucking talk thoughout the entirety of the interview.” Lana adds.

“I would have told Y/N. I would have told her the full truth then and there and I know that she would have believed me. Except, the person that I least expected, came to me beforehand and stopped me from doing it.” Eren states.

Eren’s met with an incessant pounding at his door, as he shoves all of his last belongings into his bag, ready to take off with you and Armin - and making your best efforts to drag Connie with you.

Eren opens the door to find Myka at his door, out of breath and panting.

“What?” Eren asks.

“Eren. You can’t leave.”

“Oh what the fuck do you want now? I’m taking Connie with me and that’s the fucking last of it.” Eren states.

“No, Eren. Really. You can’t go right now.” she states, pushing into his room and fervently sliding through her phone.

She hands him over the phone, with the email chain, as he anxiously reads through it and feels his heart drop.

“There’s no way. They can’t do that right?”

The email chain has the headlines - printed out and ready for distribution. Of them displaying every one of the last secrets that he wants out there front and center. About Connie being a drug addict, about Lana and Teddy, and of him and Y/N being homewreckers on the beach.

“It’s just a headline. We’ll be fine.”

“Eren. I read the article. They wrote about her brother’s in the article. About Lana and Ricky too - in detail.”

“What do you mean in detail?”

“They know everything, Eren. About every last detail of what he did to her, Eren. They’re going to put it all out there tomorrow, the second that you leave. And Y/N’s brothers…haven’t they literally been attacked before? This will be tenfold to that, Eren.”

Eren sighs, shaking the thought from this head.

“We’ll send them a security detail. And Lana, Connie, they’ll be-”

“Eren. You know for a fact that Lana doesn’t want anyone to know that he even exists. And Connie’s career. He’s never going to recover from this. And it’s- Y/N won’t be happy, Eren.” She states.

“So what the hell do you want me to do? Just stay here? Because there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Y/N stay here with me. And I know her - she’s not going to leave here without me.”

“They have Falco and Colt’s addresses, Eren. And-and don’t tell anyone but fucking Danny and Sareen? Her producers? They’re in on it. Sareen is literally Scott’s cousin, Eren. They’re planning on taking Y/N’s music away from her, so that they can make money off if it without giving her a cut.”

Eren pales.

“They’re going to do that if she stays here. And you know for a fact that you can’t leave because Connie won’t go and Teddy and- Eren you have to stay. She has to leave.”

“I can’t even fucking trust you. I don’t know what shitty game you’re trying to play here but it’s not funny.”

“I care about you guys.”

“Yeah right.”

“Okay, maybe not about you. But Lana….I care about Lana. This is the last thing she would want, she literally works so hard to make sure that no one will know about him for good reason. It would kill her to see it all get leaked.”

“Who the fuck is Lana to you? You don’t even-”

Eren understands it all too quickly. The pained flash that overtakes her eyes, the eway she’s so incessantly pleading on Lana’s behalf.

It’s because she’s in love with Lana.

Eren sighs, pinching his eyes shut.

“Do you have the article? I have to read it before I decide.” Eren states.

She nods, as she opens up the next email chain andhands him the phone. And when he reads through it, each consecutive sentence makes his stomach hurt, making it glaringly obvious what he has to decide.

Because the all but declare a smear chain against you and your brothers, slut shame you for what happened on he beach, drag Hange and Levi’s name to the blood, and leave no detail of Lana’s relationship with Ricky out. Things that no person should have aired out and Connie’s section nearly career ruining.

“Fuck. So what do I do? I mean-”

Eren can feel the tears burning in his eyes, as the leave warm, hot streaks down his skin.

“You have to make sure she leaves, Eren. You can’t have Y/N stay here. It’ll put things back to normal.” Myka states, downtrodden.

“She’s not going to leave. If I tell her, she’s going to want to stay with me. To be in my side during this and-”

“Say what you have to. To make her leave.”

“Think of the worst possible thing you could say, Eren.”

“I did what she asked. I-I made sure that she would leave. And in hindsight, the entire situation seems so stupid that me. That there were ten other things that I could have done, but…in that moment, I did what I thought was right.”

“It was idiotic in hindsight. Because it stopped them from running their smear campaigns on Lana and Connie, but Y/N was the one who got side sweeped in the middle of it.” Connie states.

“That’s where I came in. Danny and Sareen had reached out to me about everything that had happened with Y/N and Eren. Told me that I needed to amke sure that she came out of this on the other side, that she couldn’t let a guy take her career away from her. And anyone who knows the half of it about me knows for a fact that it was the right thing that they needed me to say, to get her to do it. And really, they had purposely picked everyone who went to see Y/N. Jean, not Mikasa, because he had a personal interest in seeing Eren hurt, because he was hurt too. And Sukuna, who would never advise her head on, but support what she wanted to do in full.” Historia says.

You groan, hanging your head in your knees as you know exactly what’s coming next.

That Danny and Sareen had given Scott and his stupid tabloid company exactly what he wanted. That they were the one pushing you to sing all three songs, that each consecutive piece of information made you more irritated, more mad as you went on to perform. And worse than that - Danny and Sareen made it a point to talk to Eren before the show, just to taunt him to his face.

“I had reached out to Levi and Hange for their help two weeks before the award show happened. And luckily enough for me, they helped us out of the situation, fast. Connie, Lana, Sukuna, and I sued Scott Clarkson for defamation of character, mistreatment of employees, and a dangerous workplace. We got to end our contracts early. And then moved forward.” Eren states.

The video changes to different clips, each one striking deep in your heart. Of Connie blowing out the candles on his one year anniversary of being sober as Teddy blows out his birthday candles, of Eren and Zeke getting along, and of the four of them all together, laughing at stupid videos of each other. And Eren signing along with Lana, brings the tears pouring down your eyes.

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh) When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh) Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you Rain came pouring down When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe And by morning Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean (Oh, oh, oh, oh)

“Make no mistake. There was so much that was taken out of us, in the years that we spent working there at Stone Studios. In being part of an environment that was so shitty, so damaging to who we were and the mental state that we were living in, in the name of making a good movie. But there was good that came out of it too.”

The clips switch, this time shocking you so deeply in your core that it makes your heart burn. Because the clips are of Sukuna and Lana, together. Swinging their hands together on the beach, cooking together in the kitchen, and kissing each other on the cheek.

“I know for a fact now, that the tiny little wishes that I made against my bedroom door have come true. Because I’ve been lucky enough to be blessed with the warmest, most compassionate partner that I could have ever wanted.”

Which is when you notice it. That in the video, Sukuna has the same little teddy bear tattoo as Lana on his forearm. And that they both have the tattoo for their son.

Your past and mine are parallel lines Stars all aligned and they intertwined And taught you The way you call me, "Baby" Treat me like a lady All that I can say is All of the girls you loved before (ooh) Made you the one I've fallen for Every dead-end street Led you straight to me Now you're all I need I'm so thankful for All of the girls you loved before But I love you more

“Lana is the love of my life. I’m glad that every shitty thing in my life was just…preparation for me to get to her. Because every shitty betrayal, every crappy headline, every deep rooted hard feeling in my chest, she’s the person who was made to handle it. She’s gentle, she’s warm, and she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’d go down this path a hundred times more if Teddy and Lana were always the ones waiting for me at the end.” Sukuna states.

“It was a horrible situation. But it’s taught us to appreciate the very best. For me, I finally got to reconcile with my older brother, who go to tell me the real story of what happened to him as a kid. And now, I’ve gotten to rectify one of the most important relationships in my life.” Eren states.

“I feel really shitty for how things went down, Eren.” Zeke states.

Eren nods, hiking his knees to his chest, as he rests his chin against his legs. Hange and Levi had invited Zeke over in his little retreat in the house, as they prepared for the case at the end of the week, just to talk things out. Hange and Levi had all but forced Eren to be polite and at least hear him out.

“I’m sure you’re too young to remember. But, that day at the hospital. They had started the rumors that I was funding drug dealers through money that I had in my back accounts.” Zeke states.

“Well, what did you actually do with that money? Because I know for a fact that Mom and Dad had actually found money being shoveled out of your savings, Zeke.”

He frowns.

“You know my Mom, Eren?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that? We have the same mom, idiot.”

“No, Eren. My biological mother.”

“Oh, sorry. Dina, right?”

“She’s not a good person. And I know that. But, she had reached out to me. Asking for money. She said that she needed the money for hospital bills and all that and that Dad wouldn’t return her calls. And that she feels horrible asking of this, because she knows I’m her son and she should have taken care of me, butcher really, reallyneeded it.” Zeke states.

“And she…spent it on drugs.” Eren states.

“Yeah. And Mom and Dad knew that, they believed me when I told them.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. But it was my decision to distance myself away from you guys. I wasn’t planning on doing it but…Mom lost a magazine cover, Dad lost a role, and…I knew that this was your dream. That you wanted to make it big and you couldn’t really make it big with me attached to your name.”

“Zeke. That’s so stupid. I wouldn’t have cared about that. And I don’t care because-”

“Eren. You don’t care now. There comes a point where everyone reaches this kind of stage. Where thje politics and the shitty tabliods, they make you realize that all of these things are really inconsequential. But at that age, this was all that you wanted. And I’d hate foryou to secretly resent me, resent my shitty decisions, becuase they were the ones that were holding you back.”

“Zeke…”

“I’m just glad to have you back as my brother now. I know my actions don’t really make it seem that way, but you kind of meant the world to me, man.”

The camera cuts, to a black screen with text on it, as the movie closes out.

Eren Jaeger, Lana Price, Connie Springer, and Ryomen Sukuna sued Scott Clarkson and Stone Studios on November 6th. The four of them reached a settlement with the studio, each recieiving twenty-five millions dollars each from the Clarkson Conglomerate.

Lana Price and Ryomen Sukuna have decided to split their settlement money two ways. Both are dedicating a half to ensure that they can continue to fund and upkeep security costs for their son, Theodore Price. And together, the two of them are donating the other half of their money to sexual assault victims, in hopes to support those who have similar experiences to the two of them.

Connie Springer has decided to donate all of his settlement money in order to support the establishment of rehab centers in various cities throughout the country. He hopes to create an advocacy network for those who have struggled and hopes to shine a light on the problems that exist in the current, underfunded programs.

Eren Jaeger, along with his settlement money, has asked Stone Studios for two additional items. First, he has asked for a copy of the original interview that he did for Life in Love, which he plans to return to Y/N L/N, who he claims was the only person who deserved to hear those words in the first place, the first chance he gets.

Second, Eren Jaeger negotiated with the conglomerate for weeks for the masters to Y/N L/N’s album, The Lucky One. The negotiation was short-lived, but the Scott Conglomerate has promised to return the rights of the music to Y/N L/N.

And third. Eren Jaeger has decided to donate his settlement money to fund arts programs throughout the Candian Provinces. Eren Jaegers album, Valedictorian, will donate all of the money produced in it’s first calendar year to the same cause.

“Y/N has dreamed about being a triple threat since she was a kid. But the first time that she ever felt that the dream was real was when, according to her, a group of hippie dippies in her hometown had raised money and petitioned to fund the arts program at her school. Which in turn, helped her realize that this was something that she loved. More so than just something that she wanted to do as a career, but something that was so in tune with who she was as a person, that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing it even if she wanted to. And I’d hate for people to look at me, or at her, and be dissuaded from coming into this industry, no matter how shitty it is. There’s really depth to her art and her work that can’t and wont’ ever be diminished by any of this. Which was the point of all of this anyway.”

The video switches, this time to different clips of you and Eren. Of the two of you at awards shows togethers, sitting in interviews together laughing, and the nearly thousands of clips that Connie has made of you two together throughout the years.

Of the two of you in love.

I still remember the look on your face Lit through the darkness at 1:58 The words that you whispered for just us to know You told me you loved me So why did you go away?

“Make no mistake. Y/N L/N is the love of my life. She’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. She’s compassionate, sensitive, and always been so understanding of me. There’s never been, and going to be, someone in my life that has such a pull on me the way she does. She’s the moon, she’s the only reason that I even push and pull in the way that I do. I wouldn’t be sitting here, in this chair today, telling my truth if she hadn’t been so brave, so truthful as to do it first. And I wouldn’t be sitting here, still wholeheartedly believing in love, even though I lost it, because I know for a fact that it would be a disservice to what we shared to turn myself away from it.”

I never thought we'd have a last kiss I never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are Hope it's nice where you are

“It’s always that dumb question that people ask. Would you rather love and lose it or not love at all?”

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day And something reminds you, you wish you had stayed You can plan for a change in the weather and time But I never planned on you changing your mind

“The correct answer is always to chose love. And it’s an easy question when the person you’re loving is love personified.” Eren finishes.

You turn over to Eren, teary eyed and the gaping, the burning feeling in your chest so immense that you can’t even fathom the words to say to him. So overwhelmed, so overstimulate from everything that you’ve heard - everything that you’ve felt - that you can barely keep your head on straight. The last song starts playing, which you can tell is entitled Fine Line from the credits line, as the words make the sobs wrack through you fully.

We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright We'll be alright We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)

You turn to him, his hands on your shoulders, as he reaches up to brush the tears off of your face. You can still feel yourself hiccuping in his touch, the look in his eyes so pained as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eren whispers.

“Eren. You- you fucking idiot. I’m going to kill you.” you whisper back, mustering your best glare as you frown at him.

“That frown never stops being cute, you know? You have the horror appeal of a stuffed animal.”

You shove him, in response, glaring at him as the burning in your chest slightly subsides.

“Stop trying to lighten the mood. I’m ten different levels of mad at you right now.”

“Okay. I’m going to say something crazy to you, but it’s just an idea, okay? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

“What the fuck could be crazier than…oh, I told you that I didn’t care about you because I wanted to protect you? Or, oh, I sued a person who took everything away from me and instead of trying to get more money, I tried to get back the rights to your music. Or oh, THAT STUPID INTERVIEW I DID WAS FUCKING EDITED?”

“Okay. Maybe it’s a little less crazy than that. But just hear me out okay?”

“I can basically never hear that phrase the same from you again. The last time I didn’t hear you out, you were sitting on a butt load of fucking information. Like the fact that you took the fall for me when someone threatened my fucking family? Or oh, I was struggling for years on end but never once reached out to you or-”

“Sweetheart. Just listen to me. Please.”

You frown, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Everyone else is going to be on the press tour for another four days. And there are some people who want to see us….in Seattle.”

“Seattle? Don’t tell me in some weird twisted way that you're friends with Hyla or something?”

“Ew, no. Not Hyla. But your wife wistfully looks at the window everyday, wondering when you’re going to come home from war. And no I’m not being dramatic she makes that joke almost every day. And Sukuna said he has some choice words prepared for you that he’s been sitting on for a few years now. And, it’s also Teddy’s sixth birthday. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m kind of his favorite. And I know that he would like you too.”

“You-”

“It would just be for two days. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but the two of them. They really love you. They want to see you and…you have a lot to talk about. With both of them.”

“Yeah. I-I want to see Lana. And Sukuna, they…. fuck, Eren. they went through so much. You- you went through so much. I’d like to see them and- Eren, I don’t know what to say but-” you respond, the tears warm as they spread down your eyes.

“Don’t say anything yet. Sit on it for a little. I’ll pack our things, yeah?” he states, voice warm as he smiles at you.

“Okay.”

“One last thing, Y/N.”

“Eren. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

He rolls his eyes, as he fishes through his pocket, and places a USB in your hand. You twist it over in your fingers as you look at it and give him a confused look.

“The interview. Unedited. I-I meant what I said. You-you should be able to hear it. Those words are meant for you and you only.

You turn it over in your hands, preshing it flesh against your hand, as you and Eren step out of the townhouse into the snow and head towards the car for the airport.

Hand in hand.

next part linked here

an: GUYS U CANT SIMP OVER SUKUNA ANYMORE HES A FATHER. LEAVE HIM ALONE I SWEAR TO GOD. that being said sukuna and lana appearances next chapter RAAAA. and as always, someone send me an ask for the valedictorian tracklist I HAVE IT LOCKED AND LOADED

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @mrksnctzen @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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vbecker10 · 1 month

Text

Loads of Fun

What Prank? (Bucky x female reader Y/N)

Laundry Day (Loki x female reader Y/N)

How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to admit that he hasn't quite gotten used to all the new technology since he was freed from the Winter Soldier and his latest issue is with the dryer. Y/N catches him mid-struggle with the machine and comes to his rescue.

Warnings: some light swearing, feeling a tad useless and old, Bucky struggling hard with the laundry, Y/N being super awkward

A/N: So in Laundry Day (linked above) I wrote an off hand little comment about how much laundry Bucky needed to do and @alexakeyloveloki comment inspired me to write a short fic about it so... enjoy 💚

This is not the same Y/N from Laundry Day & How Could This Not Fit?!, this is a different one. Apparently a bunch of women in the Tower have the same name as you (haha sorry that's dumb but I wanted them both to be Y/N fics so here we are)

"Oh.... I messed up," you close your book and get up from the couch quickly as you suddenly realize it's almost midnight. You had meant to only read one more chapter but you had gotten lost in your book as always.

You grab your detergent from the closet, drag your overflowing laundry hamper to the door and slide on a pair of flip flops. "Every freaking time," you mumble to yourself as you open the door. Once again, you put off doing laundry until you completely ran out of clothes.

The elevator doors open and you step out into the basement. "At least no one should be down here," you think out loud thankfully.

You had tried to do your laundry this morning but you gave up on that idea as soon as you opened the door. Loki's girlfriend was sitting on top of one of the dryers with her legs around his waist. You put your hand on the door and shake the images of the two of them away, you don't need that to be stuck in your brain.

"Damnit," you whisper as you freeze completely, the door halfway open. Bucky has his back to you as he stares at the dryer, unaware of your presence. You had developed a crush on the super soldier and decided the best way to handle it was to avoid him at all cost like any other mature adult. You were terrified that you might say or do something embarrassing so you thought your best option was to never be alone with him.

You sigh, knowing you're out of underwear and options so you open the door the rest of the way. Before you can say anything to him, the dryer Bucky is focused on begins to beep loudly.

"I don't know what you want from me," he says to it, his voice full of frustration.

He opens the door and the sound stops, you are both completely still but as soon as he closes the door it begins again. He pushes the button on the panel to start the dryer but the beeping continues.

"Why are you so complicated?" he asks the machine, clearly unaware that he is no longer alone. He pushes another button that does nothing to quiet the sound then he groans loudly, nearly ripping the door off the hinges with his metal arm.

"Do you need help?" you ask quietly from behind him.

He closes the door quickly as he turns around to face you. You can see the frustration in his expression turn to embarrassment when he realizes you were watching him. As he opens his mouth to answer you, the dryer starts to beep again.

He pulls the door open and turns towards you again. With a look of utter defeat he says, "I think it hates me."

You cover your mouth to keep from giggling at the fact that a super soldier is losing a battle with an appliance. There is no need for you to add insult to injury, you think, but he does look like he is in desperate need of a hug.

You walk over to him and drag your hamper in front of an empty machine. "I'm sure it doesn't hate you," you reassure him with a smile and he shrugs, clearly not believing you.

"Can I take a look?" you ask pointing at the dryer and he nods, moving away from it as if it might explode at any second.

"You can try but I'm telling you, this one is evil," he laughs nervously.

"I think I can handle it," you try to sound sure of yourself. "Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way," you suddenly decide to introduce yourself as you close the door.

"I know," he answers and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, the beeping continuing. "You work for the IT department," he says and you feel yourself blushing. "I've seen you around the Tower a few times."

"Yep, that's me," you respond, trying not to sound as if your internally screaming. He remembers my name? When did we even talk? I definitely would remember if we talked. Focus, focus, you yell at yourself, you've been staring at him for too long.

"Well, they don't train us to handle haunted appliances but I think I can handle this one," you say then immediately cringe. Why do I talk? You think, this is why I avoid him.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Bucky laughing. You turn towards your new favorite sound and he smiles at you as he leans on a nearby washer.

Ok, you think to yourself, time to show off and fix this stupid thing. You check to see what settings he's used but they all look right. Well, there's that, you think a bit annoyed but you're determined to figure it out. Suddenly you get an idea.

"Sometimes these things get weird when they are unbalanced or too full," you explain as you open the door and bend down. You reach in to level things out. A second too late you realize your holding a pair of his damp boxers and throw them back inside.

"Yep, these look fine," you close the door quickly and stand up, hoping he didn't notice but you can tell he saw you pick them up. "No. I mean... not that the boxers look fine, just like the load is fine. I- I'm just gonna..." you say, as you turn to face the dryer again. "I'm gonna die," you whisper as you rub your face with your hands. Good job dummy, you managed to make this even more awkward.

"Damn dryer is going to beat both of us," he says after a moment of continuous beeping and you can't help but agree with him.

"I think you might be right-" you pause, your eyebrows scrunching as a blinking red light catches your attention. "Has this been blinking the whole time?"

"I think so," he guesses. "Is that important?"

You sigh and nod, "It means I'm an idiot."

He tilts his head, his arms folded across his chest as he watches you open the dryer door again. You pull open the small door at the bottom and groan. He walks closer to see what you are doing but you don't notice until he leans over your shoulder.

"What is that?" he asks and you jump at how close his voice is to your ear. "Sorry," he laughs. "Thought you knew I was in here."

"Yea I just thought you were over there," you wave you hand towards where he had been and almost hit him in the face with the back of your hand. He dodges it easily and laughs lightly as you cover your mouth. "I'm so sorry," you mumble from under your hand.

"Its fine, you missed," he says with a grin. "So what's wrong with it?"

You pull out the lint trap and show him, "This thing is full so it won't run until we empty it." His expression tells you he has no idea what it is so you explain how a lint trap works and that if you don't clean them out you could potentially start a fire.

"Oh," he responds. "Wouldn't it be helpful if the stupid thing said that's what was wrong with it instead of just beeping?"

"It did," you groan then point to the light that is no longer blinking. "That's what the little light was for."

You wait for him to be stunned by your stupidity. You work for the IT department at Stark Industries, the most technologically advanced company in the world and you barely fixed a not broken dryer. You turn it on for him then turn your attention to finally loading your clothes into the washer.

Instead of responding the way you think he will, he sighs and takes a seat. "I don't understand any of this new technology," he admits.

You turn over your shoulder to look at him and see that he seems defeated again. "Don't worry," you try to make him feel better. "Stark likes new toys. He gets all the fanciest tech, no one knows how to use this stuff."

"I don't know how to do anything," he rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. You turn on the washers and walk towards him. "Nothing is simple anymore."

"What do you mean?" you ask as you sit in the empty chair next to him.

"Everything is a computer now and the whole building talks. The fridge has more technology in it than the last car I drove, the toaster is voice activated, hell even the sinks are motion sensors," he says, his eyes focused on his hands as he talks.

You cover your mouth quickly to hide your laugh but it slips out. He looks at you and you lower you hand to ask, "I'm sorry but... who told you the toaster was voice activated?"

"Sam," he says then his eyes widen, "It's not is it?"

"No," you shake your head and can't hold back your laughter.

He groans, lowering his head again, "I'm gonna kill him."

"You didn't really believe him did you?" you ask in disbelief.

"I spent five minutes yelling 'toast' at it this morning before he said it was probably updating," he admits, covering his face with his metal hand.

You smile and imagine him getting more and more annoyed at the poor little appliance.

He sits up, resting the back on his head on the wall behind you. "I just don't know why everything is so complicated," he says and you suddenly feel guilty for laughing.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, looking down at your feet. "Have you tried talking to Steve about getting you up to speed on some things?"

"I don't want to keep bothering him every time I can't turn on a light or get ice out of the fridge," he says. "Steve adjusted fine so I just have to keep trying to figure all of this out."

"Who told you Steve adjusted well?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

He looks at you but doesn't answer so you continue talking. "I was part of the team that helped wake him up. Trust me, he freaked out plenty of times and he was confused by pretty much everything in the beginning."

He shakes his head, "I didn't know that, it's one of the only things we've never really talked about."

"I'm sorry we didn't have a team prepped for you when you joined. I guess we just sort of figured you had been awake a lot more than Steve," you say. "As the uh... other guy," you add awkwardly, trying to avoid calling him the Winter Soldier.

"Technically I was but..." his voice trails off and his flesh hand covers his metal hand as he looks down.

"The other guy didn't do much cooking or laundry, did he?" you ask, finishing his thought.

"No," he answers.

After a short silence you say, "If you want, I can help get you up to speed. A lot of the tech around here is actually pretty easy to use, if you know what your doing."

"You don't have to waste your time," he shrugs. "I'll figure it all out."

"Helping you wouldn't be a waste of time," you tell him with a smile. "Besides, I have a lot of free time. I pretty much do nothing but read when I'm not working so I'm always around if you need me," you add and groan internally. Try to make it sound like you don't have a life at all, good job, you think.

He smiles and makes eye contact with you, "That would be really helpful, thanks."

You get lost in how his smile lights up his face but the long beep of the dryer finishing thankfully means you don't stare at him until it gets awkward. He gets up to empty the machine and you grab your book from the top of the washer before sitting back down. As you open the book he sits next to you again.

"Oh," you close the book and look up. "Sorry, I thought- you don't have to stay down here. I've got a while left until it'll be done."

He looks at the time left on the washer and says, "I just thought we could talk for a bit but... if you would rather read, I can leave you to it."

"I can read this later," you smile. You mean to gently toss the book on the table used to fold laundry but you over shoot and it hits the floor, sliding away from you. You cover your face with your hands and get up.

"I've got it," he laughs. He places the book on the table and sits next to you.

"I'm not usually a disaster," you tell him and he chuckles. "Actually, I kind of am. That's why I'm way better off with books and the tech stuff then with people," you admit. "I always do something stupid or say something weird," you feel yourself shrink back in your chair.

"I think it makes you interesting," he replies with a smile. "I'm never quite sure what you're going to say or do."

You laugh nervously, "Me neither." A second later your brain turns on, wait did he say I was interesting?

"There is actually one thing you could help me with now, if that's ok?" he asks, keeping you from focusing too much on what he had just said. He takes out his phone, "I think there's something wrong with it."

He hands it to you and you almost drop it when your fingers touch, "Ha, I've got it. Sorry." You open the settings and start looking for usual problems but things seem fine. You look up at him, "What's wrong with it?"

He smirks and says, "It doesn't have your number."

"Wow," you can't help but laugh. "That was really smooth."

He laughs and says, "I'm a bit out of practice but I thought that was good."

"It was," you blush and add your number before handing him back his phone.

He looks at it then back at you and says, "Okay, but seriously, how do I text you cause I'm not sure how exactly to do that."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

(I don't have a Bucky tag list yet so sorry my Loki list didn't get a choice lol)

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @cabingrlandrandomcrap @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @jiyascepter

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phasmophobia-territory · 1 year

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The Ultimate YANDERE TYPES List | Extensive Graph and List

So I was doing research for my writing and I found a really good Yandere Types chart!

Full sources and links to further reading will be below in the notes!

And before getting into it, remember to read the trigger warnings and content warnings. This is Yandere fiction we’re talking about, so it’s going to get messed up.

Themes + Trigger Warnings + Content Warnings:

Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Unhealthy relationships, Religious themes, themes of sociopathy, themes of mental illness, hallucinations, delusions, hallucinations and delusions due to drugs, mentions of: physical abuse, sexual abuse, brainwashing, murder, suicide, murder-suicide, self-harm, stalking, panic attacks, cannibalism, necrophilia.

{click to open and zoom in to see the details! I'm so sorry, mobile app users :(}

Broad types. Click them to see more information!

Possessive Type

Shackling Type

"Denpa" Delusional Type

Love and Hate Type

Intoxicated Type

Stalker Type

Sources:

This does not belong to me. I only gave a summary of what I read. ORIGINAL SOURCE LINKED HERE.

It's an English translation of material from an upcoming game called Yandere Town. UNTRANSLATED, ORIGINAL JAPANESE SOURCE LINKED HERE. I do not know when this game is coming out, but darn the details that went into this is crazy! It might help you out if you're writing anything yandere!

(Original translators, I have no problem with taking this down if you don't want me reposting your translation to my blog! ^_^)

♡If you want to see more content like this check out the Writing and Yandere Masterlist and if you want to learn about this blog check out all things sketchprincess02!♡

♡Please consider REBLOGGING and COMMENTING if this helps you!♡

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icameheretoreadstuff · 7 months

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Kinktober day 25 - Window Sex

Pairing: Hokage!Naruto x F!Reader Warnings: 18+! MDNI!, NSFW, Rough Smut, Window Sex, Creampie, pussy drunk!Naruto, squirting, wet and messy, long tounge!Naruto, multiple orgasm, little hair pulling, spanking (++?) Summery: You suprise your boyfriend at his office. A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr.

Naruto was sitting at his desk when you walked into his office. He was reading and trying to focus. "Hi babe" he smiled as he heard you come in. He was sqribbling something down, "Sorry, just wait one minute" he said as he finally looked up at you when he saw what you were wearing. He froze as he couldn't keep his eyes from you.

You had a long coat on you, He leaned back on his seat as you walked around the desk with a grin on your face, pushing his chair back. "you want me to take that off you?" he asked as he touched your hips. "maybe" you smirked, you pushed his work to the side and his eyebrow flew up as you jumped up on the on the desk. "babe-" before he could finish his words you opened the coat and revealed you were naked underneath. "Fuck" he groaned as you spreaded your legs and placed your feet on his shoulders. The coat fell down on your arms "Dinner's served" you smirked.

He grinned as he leaned closer to you. You melted at the look on his face. "you walked all the way from home wearing only a coat?" he grabbed your leg and kissed it along your thigh. These kisses already had you sighing happily. It felt like his kisses was only putting more fuel. You looked at him closely as he looked down on you. "Youre allready this wet and I haven't even touched you yet" he smirked "You felt really horny when you thought of this idea, huh?" he said as he leaned his hand ontop of your clit and teased you with his thumb.

"ah-" you moaned. "I want you" He grinned at you. "So wet for me babe" he cooed "Spread your legs for me" he smirked. You spreaded your legs and leaned back on your elbows. He grabbed your legs placed them over his shoulders as he leaned down to your clit "good thing Im so fucking hungry" he said as he deepdived into your clit.

He groaned and sucked on every inch of your clit from the get go. you panted as you looked down on him. He was moaning while sucking your every inch of your clit. You whimpered as you thrusted up into his face.

Watching him eat you like he was starving was making you feel like you were close. He bobbed his head as he licked long strokes on your sex. You gasped silently as you tried to breathe as your hips began to fuck his face.

He pinned you down hard with his hand and thrusted his long tounge inside you. He bended his tounge inside you and grinded his tounge on your g-spot. He slurped and licked up all the juice and repeated. "Cum on my face" he groaned as he continued the rythum.

Your fingers gripped tight on his hair as you panted and moaned like a mess as you tried to thrust on his face, but he pinned you harder down as he continued with his rythum causing you to climax hard. Your climax was turning him on as he moaned and slurped up all the juice. He looked up at you and smirked as he flicked his tounge on your clit "You like my tounge, huh?" He said. You panted and winced as he rotated his tounge on your clit "Naruto-ah" you panted. "You like my tounge so bad you don't care the door's not locked?" he groaned and bit your folds playfully.

You were not done yet, not by a long shot. "I wanna make you moan my name some more" the words he said while he thrusted his long fingers inside you made you bend your back in a silent gasp as you thrusted your hips on his fingers. "Youre my dirty slut, aren't you?" he huffed into your clit, "so horny for me" He gripped tight on your hips with his hand and drew you closer to his face. "naruto-ah" he smirked at the way your hips were grinding, searching for his face.

"I want more" he hummed into your clit as he thrusted his tounge inside you "your pussy taste so good" he said as his eyes rolled behind his head and licked up and down on your clit while bobbing his head, licking every inch. "fuck" you panted and felt the surge hit you once more. You pressed your clit down on his face. He thrusted his long tounge inside you and massaged your g-spot once more.

He was drooling as he thrusting his tounge inside you. "So fucking good pussy" he moaned as he slurped and then thrusted his tounge back to your g-spot while moaning. You moaned loudly as you heard the mess he made "Naruto-hh" you moaned and thrusted into his face. You leaned back and pinched your nipples "Fuck, Naruto I'm gonna- ah" you moaned and tried to talk "cum on me face" he cooed. He slurped your clit while moaning.

He groaned as he watch you climaxed into his face. he backed off while smirking as you squirted all over his chest. He did not care he was soaked with your cum, infact this only turned him on more. He groaned and licked your entire sex, as he sucked on your clit. Your legs were trembling as you sat up and panted. He was smeared with your pussy juice all over his face, his hair and his jacket. He took his finger and smeared it off his chin and licked it. "Fuck" you panted "you dirty girl, making me all wet" he smirked and stood up from the chair as you could see his huge bulge in his pants.

You pulled him close and crashed your lips on to his. You moaned into the kiss as his tounge was wrestling teasingly with yours. You lowered your hand and watched your hand go down his pants feeling his hard thick dick. "Fuck, I love seeing my hand down your pants" you groaned "I bet you do" he smirked and clapped your pussy making you wince.

You wanted him to cum inside you so bad, the thought of his cum inside you when he was this hard got you even more excited. Naruto pumping you full while talking dirty to you, just feeling his thick long dick made you shiver. You wanted him too much to care. You wanted his dick right the fuck now.

"Naruto" You pulled out and was eager to drag off his pants making his dick fly out of his pants. "Please cum inside me" he smirked at you, "come here" he cooed and sat down on the chair, clapping on his lap and you jumped down as he took your hand and spun you around and so you sat down into His warm thighs.

He spun around the chair facing the windows. He grabbed your boobs as he kissed your neck. You could feel his dick smacking lightly on your clit. He grabbed your hair into a ponytail "There's something I just can't let go" he whispered into your ear "I gotta punish you a little" he wrapped his hand around your waist. He stood up while pulling your hair making you followed him as he leaned you against the window, letting go of your hair.

He spanked you hard "Naruto" you whimpered. "Since you came here only wearing a coat" He threw off his jacket and pulled down his pants and stepped out of them. "You don't mind I fuck you up against the window, right?" He pushed his dick inside you slowly, Your tits were smeared against the window "you’re the one who came here wearing only a coat anyway, you dirty girl" He groaned and spanked you "squirting all over my clothes" he spanked you once more.

He thrusted slowly his tip in and out "I could see your hard nipples showing through your jacket" he huffed and spanked you "you turn me on so bad" he moaned as he thrusted slowly into you. "You’re mine, and I gotta make sure everyone knows it” he swallowed as he spanked you. "I love you" you moaned and began to shake down hard on his length. "poor y/n, you want my cum so bad huh?" He spanked you, you moaned at his words "yes, fuck yes babe, please fill me up" you whimpered. He grinned as he loved teasing you like this.

He groaned and wrapped his hand around your waist while trusting his dick hard inside you. His thick and long dick teased your tight walls. He pushed his entire length inside you until he met your wall, you panted "fuck-ah" you bended your back pushing your breast tighter on the window. He pulled slowly out halfway, and then he groaned as he thrusted hard in. He leaned back to watch your ass as his hips were clapping into yours.

You moaned feeling close. "please, I wanna see you cum inside me" you tried to say as he thrusted hard into you "I wanna cum when you cum" you begged, he smirked as he spanked you. "I know babe" he cooed. You moaned and begged "Please, Naruto" you moaned over and over again as you could feel him spanking you every time you said please. "Such a fucking brat" He pulled out and spanked you hard "On the desk" he smirked as he spanked you harder once more leaving a handprint on your ass causing you to wince.

You climbed ontop of his desk, laid your head down on a stack of papers and pulled your legs up high. He gripped tight on your thighs, pushing them down twoards the table and besides your chest as he placed his throbbing dick inside you.

He thrusted slowly as he rolled his hips. You moaned "finally" before he thrusted his whole length inside you until he hit your pelvis. "Naruto" you moaned loudly. He smirked as he rolled his hips and then clapping hard into you. You looked down on where you were connected and moaned loudly "Fuck, yes Naruto" you moaned and he smirked at you "I love seeing you inside me" you moaned "Oh-fuck"

He hummed as he heard the clap sound while thrusting hard into you "You want me to cum inside you?" he teased, you hummed and panted "please" you touched the top of your clit and moved your finger in circles as you watched him "Cum inside me, I wanna watch-ah fuck" you moaned as he gripped tighter on your legs and huffed. "I'm close" he moaned. "fuck-ah" he groaned and thrusted his dick hard into you, "I'm cumin-" you moaned loudly and began to pant short and deep.

He pressed down his dick hard inside you as he climaxed. His cum filled you up and started to drip down onto your ass "Im filling you up so good" he cooed and grinding his pelvis against yours. "Your pussy is so full right now, its dripping" The thought of him climaxing inside you made your head spin "Naruh-" you climaxed hard and gripped his hips as you pushed him harder into you. You gasped as he grinded his pelvis on yours "I filled you up so good babe" he cooed. You panted as you looked up at him when you could see him smirking at you as he grinded onto your pelvis, riding out your high.

He moved your legs down, leaned over as he placed his elbows beside your head. He smiled as he was in the middle of kissing you when he stopped and looked up adruptly "we might get busted" he said and looked over at the door. You giggled and cupped his face, he looked down and you kissed him deeply "we should probably move or leave or something" you added-

"we might have to go home and change?" you suggested carefully "Yeah, I think I have to" he leaned up while still having his dick inside you, he looked down on his clothes and leaned back down on top of you. "We don't have any clothes" he chuckled dryly, you gasped for a moment but couldn't contain your laughter. "Don't worry, I'll figure something out" he sighed happily and continued to kiss you. "Right now I just want to be here with you" he said in a serious tone into your lips and kissed you deeply.

#naruto smut #naruto uzumaki smut #naruto fanfiction #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki fanfiction #naruto uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #naruto x reader #reader insert #reader insert smut #hokage naruto #uzumaki naruto x reader #naruto fanfic #kinktober 2023 #english is not my first language #english is not my native language

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 8 months

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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part II

Thank you to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading and letting me be insane in her DM's ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: None

Part I ~ Part III

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh as you finish your closing duties, giving the door one last pull to make sure it was locked with a tired sigh. You walked around to the back of the building, heading up to your apartment that was very conveniently located on top of your store. You kick the door shut behind you, haphazardly throwing your shoes in the entryway. You put the kettle on the stove, leaning against the counter and looking out the window as you waited for the water to boil. Your mind immediately wandered back to Vessel, your short interaction had left you with so many unanswered questions. Where did he come from? Why did he choose this sleepy little town of all places to settle down? Was he actually part of a cult? He was so different from what you had imagined. Hearing all the reports in the paper you had been terrified to run into any of them. Vessel, in what scraps of his personality you had seen, seemed so gentle. You were snapped from your thoughts by the sound of the kettle singing.

"At least our mystery man has a name now." You chuckle to your empty apartment. You guess you would just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought.

Music blasted through the speakers in the empty store, you sang along loudly with your favorite songs as you worked on restocking the shelves. You groaned as you hoisted one of the heavy crates of produce off the counter. You screamed, oranges scattering across the floor as you lost hold of the crate. There standing at the door was Vessel. Seeing that he had finally caught your attention, he pointed to his wrist as if he was motioning to a watch. You paused your music and quickly headed over to open the door for him. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you we close early tonight." You blurt out the second you open up. Your eyes land on Vessel, this was the first time you had been standing in front of him without the barrier of the counter. He was a lot taller than you had realized, you stumbled back slightly to put some distance between you and the absolute wall that was his body. "Every Sunday I have to restock the store, I close at four."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"No!" You exclaim, waving your hands wildly in front of you. "No, really, it's my fault. You come in and get what you need, just don't mind the mess. It'll take me a couple minutes to reopen the register." You motion him inside, he follows you hesitantly. He looks around the store, various pallets and stacks of crates are organized into neat categories waiting to be put away. From what he could see it was definitely more work than one person should be handling by themselves.

"Is it just you that works here?" You nod in response as you drop onto your knees to start collecting the oranges you had dropped. Your hand jerked back as your fingers bumped into Vessel's. Your eyes dart up to look at him, "it's my fault you dropped the crate, I'd like to help you pick up a little if that's alright." He says softly as he remains completely still. He could tell being so close to him made you nervous, yet it was somehow different than interactions he had in the past. You weren't scared, more… shy.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble, Vessel, really." You try to reassure him.

"And you shouldn't be alone trying to restock all of this inventory by yourself." You almost rolled your eyes at the statement.

"I've been managing just fine by myself for the last seven years, I think I can handle a spilled crate of fruit." He chuckles at your determined tone.

"I never said you couldn't," he returns to the task of picking up produce as he talks. "I'm saying you shouldn't have to. You work hard, I can tell by how meticulously your store is always maintained." He trails off for a moment, not exactly sure how to phrase his next statement. "I guess I'm just curious as to why you don't have any help."

"There isn't anybody I like enough to have them work here with me." You smile. "This place is my home, literally, my apartment's upstairs." He shakes his head with a slight laugh. "If they aren't someone I would invite into my home they're not someone I would want to spend hours upon end in here with them. Besides, I like working, it keeps me occupied." Vessel finishes helping you clean up. "You go get your groceries, I'm sure you have a long drive back to… your camp? House?"

"Camp works." He quips. You head up to the counter to get the register up and running again, knowing his supply runs never took long. You found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. The strange red sigil in the center of his white mask, the ornate detailing on the bottom edge, the black paint that covered every area of exposed skin, everything about him just made you curious. Your eyes snapped to your register as he glanced in your direction and you swore you heard the sound of him quietly chuckling. He carries his groceries up to the counter and lays them out.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me as many questions as you want, I can't guarantee I'll answer." He responds bluntly.

"What made you decide to finally start talking to me?" He seemed a bit taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be so forward.

"It's no secret that a lot of people don't like the fact that we're around. Luckily, the only real nuisance we've had to deal with are the reporters, but I'm still worried about what would happen if we ventured too far into town. But, we needed supplies. We could only last so long on the sorry excuse of a garden we managed to start when we originally bought the land, your store is relatively close by and out of the way. As far as why I started talking to you, you're the only person I've met from this town so far that hasn't greeted me with hostility." Vessel laughs softly at your shocked expression. "I'm tired of running (Y/N). Tired of having to move from city to city every other month to try and keep ahead of the backlash from people who don't understand us. If I'm going to do that I need a place to come get supplies where I won't immediately get chased off, someone I can trust in my time of need… after some thought I think you might be that person. There's something special about you, I think we were fated to meet each other, I'm just not sure why yet."

"Well, I appreciate that." You can't help but smile at the admission. He trusted you. "If there's anything I can ever do to help you guys out, just say the word."

"Actually, there is something. Would it be alright if I start coming to grab supplies after you close, at least on Sunday's?" He asks.

"Of course you can. I was actually going to ask if that would work better for you." You admit with a chuckle. "I know that a lot of people around these parts tend to be pretty… close minded, to put it gently. I think it's smart for you to wait until you're ready to have those interactions." He nods his thanks at your agreement, collecting his belongings, and heading towards the door.

"Next Sunday it might not be just me, don't be intimidated." He dismissed himself with a chuckle, leaving you to finish restocking.

You pondered over who exactly he would be bringing with him. No one knew for sure how many members there were living in the woods, from what you had seen everyone except for Vessel dressed relatively similar. You were tempted to ask him throughout your daily visits, but you also didn't want to pry. As next Sunday arrived you kept anxiously looking up at the clock, waiting for closing time to roll around. You bid farewell to your final customer as you locked up. Just as you had pulled the key from the deadbolt you saw the familiar sight of an old, beat up pick up truck rumble into the parking lot. Vessel got out, talking to whoever was seated in the passenger seat before heading in your direction. You waved at him, opening up the door and stepping outside. "Is your friend coming in too?" You ask quietly as he gets closer to you.

"Yeah, he is. I just wanted to tell you something first. II isn't much of a talker until he gets to know people… He also has a staring problem." You laugh, Vessel returns your enthusiasm with a smile.

"If I can handle you giving me the silent treatment for a full week I think I can handle it big guy, don't worry." He waves at his friend to come join you. You waited in anxious anticipation as the passenger door opened, two heavy black leather boots thudding against the pavement as someone jumped out. The slam of the door echoes through the surrounding trees as you finally could see just who Vessel brought with him. II was a bit shorter than Vessel with a lean frame. His striking blue eyes met yours through the holes in his mask, black cloth with the same rune that adorned Vessel's, yet his covered the entirety of his face.

"II, this is (Y/N)." He slowly approaches you, you could tell he was studying you. He offers his hand which you timidly accept. His hand was warm around yours as he feigned the action of bringing your knuckles to his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. "Come on, I didn't bring you to flirt with her." You see the corners of II's eyes crinkle as he chuckles at Vessel's joke. He straightens up, moving swiftly to the door, holding it open and motioning for you to walk inside.

"Thank you II." You smile sweetly at him. Vessel claps him on the back as he walks past.

"We're here to help, what do you need?" He offers kindly.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you both to do that." II steps forward, offering you his arm. You cautiously take it with a curious expression. He leads you to your chair behind the counter, pulling it out for you to sit. He rolls up his sleeves, picking up the first box of stock he saw and searching for its tag.

"See? You don't even have to ask?" Vessel chuckles. You got your restock done in half the time you normally did with their help. Vessel stood in front of the register as you rang him up, smoking smugly. "Wasn't that easier than doing it all yourself?"

"What? You looking for a job?" You shoot back, you hear II breathe out a chuckle at your joke. You bag up his groceries, handing them off with a smile. "II, hopefully I'll see you next week." He nods his goodbye as he heads out the door.

"I think he likes you." Vessel jokes.

“He’s sweet.” You giggle. “If your whole group is this nice you’re welcome in my store anytime.” Vessel smiles at your statement.

“You’ll meet the others eventually, I think they’d enjoy getting to know you.” He starts walking towards the door, shooting you a flirtatious smirk. You waved goodbye to them through the window, catching II’s gaze as they drove off. The next night as you sat reading at the counter you smiled as the familiar sound of Vessel’s sputtering engine met your ears as he pulled into the lot. You looked up as the bell jingled over the door, your greeting froze in your throat as you realized it wasn’t Vessel who had entered the store.

“Hey II.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face at the sight of him.

“(Y/N).” He greets you with a slight nod. His gaze traps you in place as his eyes meet yours, he saunters up to the counter, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“No Vessel today?” You ask, trying to keep your flustered state a secret.

“He had something to take care of today.” You could hear the gentle intonation of a smile in his voice. “Call me selfish but I wanted the chance to see you again.” You let out a flustered giggle. He leans his elbows on the counter, bringing his face impossibly close to yours. His eyes slowly scan over your features before catching your gaze. “He sent me with a list, think you could help me out?”

“Yeah, sure.” You stutter, making your way around the counter. He hands the list over to you, trailing behind you to hold everything you pulled from the shelves. You struggled to reach something on one of the higher shelves, a shiver ran up your spine at the sudden warmth that spread across your back as II stepped closer to you.

“Allow me.” He gazes down at you, bright blue eyes studying you for a moment. You feel his eyes on you the entire time as you scanned all of his groceries. You handed the bags over to him, his fingers brushing over yours. You smile bashfully as your eyes lock with his. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He gazes at you playfully.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He bows slightly as he heads for the door.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, II.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

Note

Oops, I accidentally sent the request before actually typing it, lol

Here we go again:

The family is away for summer vacation and reader bumps into an old high school boyfriend of hers at the beach while Javi is playing with the kids (making an adorable mess with sand castles), and he sees it at some distance and get super jealous about it, but only get to talk to her about it after dinner when the kids are asleep in their hotel room. Idk, something about that with obviously make up sex for reader to show him how much she’s all his and etc

Random thoughts, I know, but I’m sure you’ll be able to work magic with this

Sand

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Hi hi hi, and so sorry for the wait. I hope this fulfils your heart’s desires, my friend. Thank you for following my work ❤️

Summary: You bump into your high school sweetheart on holiday and Javier is not a fan.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, jealousy, javi is whipped for reader, dirty talk, piv sex, rough sex, bit of roleplay, creampie, use of papi, possessiveness, aren’t they just the cutest?

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51262198

Sand

Children’s laughter travels through the air to meet your ears along with the sound of a soft summer breeze, making you put down the book that you’ve been holding in your hands. It’s impossibly sunny hence why you’ve decided to hold up the book, shielding its pages from the rays, and the skin of your back glistens with sweat. There are seagulls in the air, busy noises from families around you, and the therapeutic push and pull of the waves.

Beside you, you have a glass of strawberry lemonade and in front of you, you have a view of your husband enthusiastically digging moats around the various sandcastles that have been scattered across your chosen spot on the beach. You feel refreshed and relaxed; just how you’re supposed to feel on your vacation during the hottest days of summer.

It had been Javier’s idea to go away for a week to your hometown. You are thankful for his suggestion because you would never have voiced your wish for a break out loud yet he had sensed it despite your silence.

You’ve visited your parents, yes, but the majority of days have been spent on the beach where you’ve gotten some quality time with yourself. Javier has managed to tire out both of your kids with endless activities, and the evenings have been filled with long, slow kisses on the hotel room balcony. You have hoped for more but a shared hotel room means that you will have to keep everything PG-13.

“Look, Mommy!”

Your thoughts are interrupted by Inés’ excited shout. She has placed seashells on the biggest of the sandcastles’ walls, making them imitate grand windows.

“They’re beautiful, baby,” you praise adoringly.

Lucas is by the shore with a bucket, filling it with water for the moats. He beams at you when he returns, and you smile right back at your beautiful boy.

“Remind Papá to take a picture of you when you’re finished,” you say loudly for Javier to hear as well. He looks back at you, grinning with genuine joy and happiness but you’re too busy staring at his happy trail just above the hem of his bathing shorts. He notices.

“What’re you looking at?” He winks.

“Nothing,” you say back and shoo him, holding up your book for show, “Go keep an eye on your offspring, Dad. I’m very busy.”

The day continues. You manage to go through a few more chapters, occasionally watching Javier over the top of your book as he is enjoying himself.

And then it is late afternoon but the sun is nowhere near descending yet. You are interrupted in your reading by a shadow above you, and you don’t manage to catch yourself as you automatically tell Javier off, “Honey. You’re standing right in front of the great big reading lamp in the sky.”

The shadow laughs and then you realize it isn’t your husband. You look up to stare at a familiar face anyhow, and your face grows hot. With quick motions, you put your book down and push yourself to stand.

“Jonathan!” You exclaim in what you hope is a calm and collected voice. You know it is a possibility, being in your hometown, that you run into your high school ex-boyfriend but it still catches you off guard.

“You mean ‘honey’ right?” Jonathan jokes. You laugh politely and awkwardly, and despite the ring on his finger, Jonathan doesn’t seem to back down. He hugs you, splaying his large palm on your back - right under where your bikini top sits.

Afterward, he gives you a once over with his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you spot Javier glancing in your direction.

“God, you look well,” Jonathan continues, “Still in Laredo?”

“Still in Laredo,” you confirm, curling your toes into the warm sand. Jonathan looks almost exactly the same; blond, wide-eyed, and pale. He still sports a t-shirt with a print of a ‘70s band logo on the front that you remember him buying when it was cool.

You realize that you haven’t done anything to make conversation, quickly adding, “And you? You haven’t aged a day.”

“Never escaped, teachin’ at our old school,” he shrugs. He eyes Inés and Lucas but only briefly, turning back to you when he realizes that you are here with a man too. Javier is throwing daggers his way but for once, he has no intention of interrupting which is fair since he would have to leave his children unattended for the time it took to play macho.

“Course you are,” you smile genuinely. It suits him perfectly to be one of the people who keep the cycle of the quiet town alive, even if it is by simply replacing your old teachers, “And the ring? I couldn’t help but notice that we’re both married.”

Jonathan tells you briefly about his wife and kids. You don’t actually care, but he lights up as he speaks about his two daughters and that’s the most important thing in this whole conversation. He has a dreamy look in his eyes as he finishes, “And to think we thought it would be us.”

By instinct, you reach out to touch his arm and then you giggle softly because the image of the two of you getting old together is absurd. You have everything you need in Javier Peña… Who is fuming without you noticing.

You hug Jonathan goodbye and the rest of the afternoon is suspiciously quiet.

Inés and Lucas fall asleep quickly, exhausted from the amount of fresh air they’ve breathed in today. Outside the sky is turning rose-colored from the evening catching up on you; the sunset will be long and beautiful. But you don’t want beauty with how much tension is between the two of you.

You are brushing your teeth side-by-side in the hotel bathroom. It’s been a tight-lipped dinner. You honestly just want to go to sleep so you can start over tomorrow.

Javier finishes brushing his teeth first. He waits for you, looking like someone who is contemplating whether to say something or not.

You finish brushing your own teeth just as he finally makes a decision, off-handedly throwing a remark at you.

“You sure were friendly with Jonathan earlier,” he says simply.

You let out a long sigh, stepping away from the sink after putting away your toothbrush, “Jesus, Javi, I knew this would happen.”

“What?” He leans against the sink.

“You don’t have to act like a fucking… I don’t know. It is every damn time a guy even looks at me - and it’s just not very attractive,” you are exhausted.

“Excuse me for liking you to myself,” he looks away, “I like having you alone.”

You decide on something at that moment.

“You already have me. Don’t you know?” You ask in a voice close to a purr. Javier raises a brow in annoyance, but you don’t give in to a fight so easily. Instead, you go to close and lock the bathroom door.

“Know what?” He asks impatiently.

“That you’re the only one?” You watch him standing against the sink counter. He doesn’t look as annoyed after those words but he still isn’t overly impressed with your actions earlier. There’s no way that he doesn’t know what clicking the lock means though. If only he knew the power you have over him, the power that you’re soon to make a display of.

You cross the room to stand in front of him. You tilt your chin upwards to look up at his face but his eyes stray from yours the second you catch them. He can get so pissy sometimes, a part of the game, but you’ll take the challenge especially when you haven’t had his cock inside of you for a week. At this point, your core aches for him.

Gently, you put two fingers under his chin and pull it down towards his chest so he is forced to look at you. Your smile is sweet as honey, “Thoughts of you keep me up all night sometimes. Hot and bothered, legs barely knowing what to do.”

There’s a pause where you can only hear his breathing matching yours. His pupils have blown wider, signaling desire for you.

“What do you think of?” He finally gives in.

“I think about all the ways you turn me on,” you tap his chin but then let your hand go down. It skims down his bare chest and over each ripple of muscle that quivers with each touch.

“Yeah?” He murmurs. His eyes flick down between the two of you for less than a second when your hand hovers over his happy trail. The second you catch him doing it, your own eyes follow suit. It’s too hot to wear his usual pajama bottoms, so it’s so easy to spot that he is hard already, showing off the outline of his dick in his gray briefs. There’s a stain of precome.

“Yeah, baby,” you don’t even hesitate, reaching down to palm the length of him. His breath hitches in his throat the second he is touched, and your voice lowers to a whisper, “All I do is fantasize about you. The way you kiss, the way you touch me, and mmm, the way you fuck me.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly in the way men do when they don’t really know what to say during their current state of mind. You have him scatterbrained with your touch, a moan falling from his lips and replacing the hum when you snake your hand into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around his cock to stroke him lazily.

“You like this?” You ask but don’t give him time to answer since you tighten your fist around his girth. He forces a nod and you lean up to kiss his lips teasingly soft, “You really think I would ever touch another man like this? There’s no way. No comparison to how you look when I do it.”

“Go on and I might forgive the eyes you were sending him,” he tells you with a hint of edge in his voice. He sounds more desperate than confident, more wanting than he might want to let on. It fills you with self-satisfaction because you know that what you are saying about him goes for you too; you’ve ruined everyone else for each other.

“I told you I was doing no such thing,” you reply. He pulses in your hand, precome sliding down over your knuckles when you make your fist a tighter fit, reminding him of what waits between your legs. You go a little faster, and Javier’s breathing speeds up.

“Liar,” he challenges raggedly.

“As if he could ever make me come as hard as you,” you egg him on, patiently waiting for him to lose control with you, “There’s only you, Papí.”

That seems to do something. Javier yanks your hand away, and you know the strength behind the action because he breathes the same way that he breathes when teetering on the edge of release. He has stopped himself but it’s only to enter your personal space more than you even thought possible.

He grabs at your hips almost violently, steers you backwards a few paces so he can flip the positions. Now, you are the one against the sink counter and it gnaws painfully into the small of your back. There’s an air of consideration for a moment as he checks in on you during the beginning of what can be regarded as playing with each other. You give him a dirty look, a small nod and he smirks back.

“Javi,” you mumble in fake confusion, reaching up to put your hands on his chest but you don’t get to do much because one of Javier’s hands comes up to catch one wrist after the other. It’s so easy for him to do, both because of his job and his physical superiority.

He twists your hands behind your back and roughly shoves you down over the sink. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “You’re not gonna wake up anyone, are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” you promise, finding his eyes in the mirror. If he touches you now, he’ll find you wetter than you have been in a long while. What is it about holidays and hotel rooms? Mixed with not having been able to touch each other since you have arrived here, it is a dangerous combination.

“Te deseo mucho, amor,” he says softly and out of character.

“I love you,” you reply.

He dives back into the scenario. His other hand tugs at your cotton shorts, dragging them over the curve of your ass and down your long legs. You step out of them as soon as they lay around your feet.

“I’m gonna let go,” he says and shakes your hands in his grip to indicate what he is talking about, “But only so you can cover your mouth for me and I can get out of these fucking underpants.”

He does as he said he would. You move to prop yourself up on your elbows, neck already having strained from the mere moments you’ve had to feel the cold porcelain against your chest.

Behind you, there’s shuffling. You cover your mouth as he enters you swiftly, jerking forward at the intrusion that has you panting damply into your palm. He fills you to the brim, stretches your cunt as only he can, and then he fucks you - hard, rough, and fast.

Your head spins, your knees bang against the cabinet’s front, and you try to strain the muscles in your legs so they don’t. He knows the ticking bomb that is your children sleeping soundly in the room next door, but he cannot help himself as he drives into you. He leans over you.

“No one but me,” he growls lowly, “This little cunt belongs to no one else. She gets red and puffy for me, no? Filled up with only my come.”

“Sí,” you practically sing out but then quickly cover your mouth. He gets rougher with you then, each snap of his hips a reminder of how only he can make you feel like this. He is getting exactly what he wants, and he has you a moaning mess soon after.

Your first orgasm tears through you after a rough pounding of your g-spot, sending shockwaves down your spine to burn at the base and throwing your upper body forward with such a force that you nearly lose touch with the floor, standing only on your toes as you clamp rhythmically down on Javier’s cock.

“That’s it,” he praises quietly, not relenting, “You can do one more, can’t you? Gotta remind you who makes you feel this good.”

You nod through sobs. More, more, more.

Suddenly, he leaves you empty. The feeling has you on edge, makes you look at him over your shoulder because gaining eye contact in the mirror is somehow not good enough for the look of betrayal you want to give him. He takes a step back from you whilst panting frantically, gesturing to you by drawing a circle in the air, “Turn around.”

You straighten without thinking and flip around, so you are positioned as you were at the beginning of this. He seizes your hips, hands going down your thighs to grab at them and lift you up onto the edge of the counter.

Your hand clasps around the back of his neck. He lifts your legs up to settle them around his waist, and then he guides himself back into you and continues fucking you with a force that has you lifting your free hand up behind you to brace yourself against the mirror.

“Javi,” you whimper repeatedly, clutching at the curls at the base of his skull. He had wanted to cut it before summer came, but you are so glad that he did not.

“Shh,” he soothes your growing cries and you know that he’ll make you come again soon, “Be quiet for me, baby.”

You don’t think he is quiet enough himself to demand such a thing from you. His stamina has always impressed you, but it’s the sound of his breaths that tears your own from your chest. Alongside the hungry eyes that bore into you, you don’t think that it’ll take long for this to reach its peak for both of you.

“I can’t,” you stutter a little more high-pitched than you intended.

“You have to,” he says with a hint of sternness but he cannot keep it up. Especially not, when he has to take the consequences of reaching down between your legs to thumb at your clit.

You come so fast that you don’t even have time to warn him, and you cry. So loudly that he needs to kiss you to swallow the sound of you reaching your second, over-sensitive high.

You throw your arms around him as he chases his own peak, whimpering at the hard thrusts he is giving you to reach his end. You hear him let out a drawn-out fuuuck as he spills inside of you. He pulses, settling deep inside you. He kisses you lazily.

Everything goes quiet except for your shared breathing. You want to say something to finish the argument that almost never took place but a knock is heard on the locked bathroom door.

You freeze. Javier pulls out of you. The bathroom counter is a mess.

“Mommy?” Inés’ little voice sounds anxious. You figure that it’s far from nice to find your parents’ bed empty on holiday.

“Just a second,” you say with a weak voice.

“We’ll be right there, mí vida,” Javier says as well.

“What are you doing? Why is Mommy crying?” You hear her ask and Javier’s face twists in surprise for a moment before he starts laughing, burying his head in your neck as he holds you close. You slap his shoulder.

“I’m not crying, baby,” you reassure. With a glare that’s anything but actually angry, you push Javier away from you to get cleaned up.

“I have to pee,” Inés continues with a hesitant tone to her voice.

Javier kisses you one last time, and you draw it out for a few more seconds than you have time for. It’s still romantic despite you holding a hotel towel between your legs.

“One moment, mija,” Javier says and gets dressed in his briefs. He waits for you to dress too.

When you walk towards the door, he smacks your ass and you whip around to slap his hand away. There’s a grin on your face though, “Dog.”

“Go to bed, I’ll take her,” he just says.

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