mr. moron (Patreon)

part three to mr. incorrect

synopsis: so you tried to baby trap your situationship. but when he's too busy being a celebrity to even consider being your boyfriend, you decide to give the single mother thing a chance - only to end up right back where it all started in your small town. this time though, a certain mechanic seems like he won't let his chance to reclaim his childhood crush slip by! there's just one thing...your former flame doesn't want to let you slip away so easily.

pairing: actor!situationship x loser!reader x yandere!mechanic

wc: 3.1k

content: angst, fluff + smut, mentions of car sex, baby trapping, reader is a loser and a little delusional, yearning, heavy pining, possessive behavior, stalking, breaking and entering, old sex tapes, love triangle but both men are a bit crazy, pregnancy, mentions of marriage, unprotected piv sex but she's already knocked up so-, doggy style, creampie

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You were living with a stalker and you didn’t even fucking know it. 

He paced the floor, his pulse pounding in his ears as he pictured you playing house with that creep. Clueless that the man warming your bed was the one that had broken into your place before. 

You wouldn’t believe him if he told you. 

No way. Not when you no longer looked at him like he was the center of your world. 

He didn’t know how much he missed that cute gleam in your eyes until it was gone. Until there was just quiet anger directed his way, regret simmering underneath your once soft stare. 

Loser.

He couldn’t even say that prick was wrong. He certainly felt like one watching old videos of you on his phone, the only evidence he had left of your existence in his life as his cock strained in his pants. 

Your pretty moans were playing on the screen, your back arched and your soft blue sheets beneath your shivering body as he replayed the last ten seconds, slowing it down frame by frame as his cock plunged inside of you. You were whining, crying out his name as he pulled your hair back, twisted your head so he could see your face scrunching up with pleasure. 

He remembered the pride flaring in his chest seeing you like that, utterly debauched with drool leaking from your kiss-swollen lips and mascara smeared around your teary eyes. 

The idea that he got to see that version of you now was enough to spur the ugly possessive urge to go back to your place and commit murder. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good, baby,” he heard himself say, all gritty and slowed down, the squelches of his cock disappearing inside your pussy nearly drowning out how hard you were both breathing. 

But not quite. 

And between it all, he thought he detected something…else. 

Something neither of you noticed back then. 

The soft thud of a footstep in the background. 

He skipped ahead, after his cum had been spilled out on your spine and you had twisted on your side, your lip pushed out in a pout while he stood up, the camera angle shifting and-

There it was.

The bedroom door was cracked open. It had been shut when the video began. 

Someone else had been in your apartment the whole time. Probably since before you both got there. Too preoccupied with each other to pay attention – too busy pulling you to the bed to realize you were being watched. 

It had been before the break-in. Back when someone sneaking into your apartment wasn’t even a possibility in your or his mind. 

Maybe if it had been after, he would’ve been more cautious. Checked the corners and shadows and closets for creeps instead of just stripping your clothes off for casual sex. 

He had lied to you. Reassured you it just a burglar looking for easy cash. 

But he hadn’t stolen anything. 

No, that wasn’t his intention at all. 

Because the dark eyes he’d seen that night were the same ones glaring at him by your door. The same voice that called him a loser had cursed while he slipped out of his reach before he could throw a punch and pin him down for the cops to catch. 

The guy who broke into your place was trying to play step-dad to his baby. 

All under the guise of being an old classmate who just coincidentally reconnected with you. 

God, had he been obsessed with you from the start?

Waiting in the wings to claim you and chain you to him instead? 

He couldn’t just show you the video. Try to convince you that your new boyfriend was the same guy that broke into your apartment. 

You would think he was fucking crazy. 

How could he prove to you that fucking asshole was before he had to co-parent with him? 

♡

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

You had spoiled the surprise. 

Your fingers were still trembling as they held tight to the ring box, unable to open it up and see what kind of engagement ring you got when the man whose baby you were pregnant with might still be outside your building. Before now, you’d been so sure that this was just a transient thing. A fleeting few months of fun, something with an end date that hadn’t been etched in stone yet. 

“Is this-” Your voice died mid-question, breath catching in your throat as your stare slowly slid up to meet his. The food was forgotten. Your thighs still damp as he closed the distance between you. “You want to marry me?” 

“Is it not obvious?” He murmured, his voice low and thick, amusement flickering in his stare. 

“I-”

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t even recall how to properly suck in air, your heart and lungs failing to keep working as you studied his face for some sign of a trick. 

God, you had tried to baby trap before just to keep a man. 

Believing you could snare him without scheming was incomprehensible. 

“You said you wouldn’t move in with me if we weren’t married,” he shrugged, his mouth pressed together in a thin line, trying to measure your reaction as you stared at him in shock. “So I figured I’d change that.” 

“What if my ex keeps coming around?” You questioned. 

Caution had become second nature lately. Scared to turn into a fool for a man who wouldn’t go nearly as far for you as you would for him. 

“He’s nothing to you now,” he murmured, as if it was that clean. Like you wouldn’t have to coparent if he chose to give the dad thing a try. 

You didn’t speak, hesitating and holding your tongue while his lips curled up in a crooked smirk.

His fingers slipped underneath your shirt, his fingers sinking into your side as he pulled you into his chest. Leaning down to let his mouth press soft kisses across your jaw, tilting your chin up to continue a long trail down your throat. “I would love nothing more than to be your husband.” 

It would be harder for him to leave you then, wouldn’t it? 

If he made his love for you legally binding? 

Your baby would be basically guaranteed a dad. A stable home.

A voice in your head insisted you were weak for considering it. Falling back into old habits as you weighed how much you wanted him against what your daughter would think of this one day. 

“You know, if we were married, it would probably look better to a judge that we have two incomes and a stable home,” he murmured, his soft lips grazing against the corner of your jaw, just by your ear as his words sank in. 

You couldn’t argue against it. 

If your former flame decided to take you to court, you setting down roots would come off better than a man who was busy sixteen hours a day with no other steady relationships. No one except a manager and a body guard who only tolerated him because of the paycheck. 

He could pay a lawyer a ridiculous fee – but the courts were supposed to be what was best for a child, weren’t they? 

You used to think you’d do anything to hold onto him. But now you knew it was nothing compared to what you’d do for her. 

You passed the box back to him, forcing yourself to smile as you sucked in a shallow breath.

“If you ask,” you murmured slowly. “I won’t say no.” 

♡

Daddy’s girl. 

He stared at the pink onesie, pinching it between his fingers before plucking it off the rack and tossing it in the shopping cart. 

The woman behind the cashier cooed when he checked it out, exclaiming at the onesies and the frog-themed baby seat and even the diapers, saying he must be looking forward to fatherhood and questioning how far along you must be. 

Up until she eyed the lack of a wedding band on his left hand and changed her tone, her lips pressing together in subtle judgement. 

“Your girlfriend-” 

“Fiancée,” he corrected, brows knitting together as her mouth twitched. 

“How far along is she?” She feigned niceness, tilting her head to the side as she rang up a six-pack of tiny white socks. 

“Seven months,” he answered, his chest feeling all tight as he counted crumpled dollar bills from his wallet as the total flashed on screen. 

“Is the wedding going to be before or after she has the baby?” She questioned, but he hated the way she said it. How she had most certainly conjured up some image of you he wanted to call her a bitch for as she continued to chatter, “I would hate to get married pregnant, y’know-” 

“It’s not really your business,” he snapped, some invisible tether inside him fraying more and more the longer he stood here waiting for his fucking receipt so he could get back home to you. 

“Well, she must be lucky to have you,” the cashier tried to shift gears, batting her lashes and offering a smile that he couldn’t help but feel disgusted by. 

Recoiling at the idea she even thought he’d want to be on the receiving end of it as her eyes drifted down from his face to his shoulders, checking out his chest while he rolled his eyes. 

“I’m lucky to have her,” he corrected her again, forcing himself to not scoff out loud as he held out his hand. “Can I get my receipt now?” 

You were cooking dinner for him when he walked back home. 

His t-shirt hung loose over your frame as you pulled a pan out of the oven, peeling off the mitts next and glancing back over your shoulder as he carried in the gifts he was bearing. 

“You shouldn’t have-” You started, pressing your lips together like you didn’t really mean it as you saw the baby seat you called cute when you saw a video of it last week, appreciation glittering in your tired eyes as you leaned against the wall. 

“Wanted to,” he dryly muttered, kicking the door shut behind him as you walked over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth as a greeting. 

Your engagement ring was glittering in the lamplight, worth more than half the furniture in his apartment as the diamond shined even in the dimly-lit space.

Finally, he was doing things right. 

He had only waited a week or two after you found the ring to propose. Took you out to a nice, fancy dinner and a stroll in the park. Got down on one knee by the pond, recited a whole speech he admittedly had planned long before you ever reunited before asking the most important question of his life. 

It helped that he already knew your answer. 

It felt even better hearing you say it though. Seeing the way your face lit up as you shakily nodded and softly breathed a ‘yes’ he’d spent years waiting for. 

That idiot would never get to know what it felt like. How you looked with your hand half-covering your face in the morning, shielding it from the sunlight as you peacefully slept, his ring on your finger even if it wasn’t his baby in your belly. 

Your ex had come back around a couple times. 

But he managed to keep you clueless. 

Blissfully unaware of his attempts to worm his slimy way back into your life when you were sleeping under a new roof. 

It had been a little annoying to break your lease, but he’d taken care of it for you, packing your stuff back up, space already made for you in his place. He took you to pick out new paint colors for the walls, told you that it was your home as much as it was his. 

Soon enough, you’d be taking maternity leave, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about that prick finding a way to speak to you there. 

He wasn’t worried about you leaving him. 

But he had gotten enough of you. 

Wasn’t it his turn now? 

Why would he do anything to let him have even the slimmest sliver of a chance to squirm back in? 

“She’s going to be spoiled,” you giggled, looking through the bags at what he brought home. “And I think we have enough diapers to last a year.” 

“They go through them quick,” he shrugged, turning to twist the lock – and briefly catching the way your nose scrunched up when you picked up the daddy’s girl onesie. 

Because it wasn’t him you were thinking about. 

All that fucking asshole was good for was providing sperm. 

If it wasn’t for his dick, would you have stayed so long? Let him treat you like disposable shit for some sex? 

“I was thinking,” he murmured, your head automatically snapping up to force a small smile like you were shaking him out of your mind. “I’m tired of waiting.” 

“What do you-” 

“Let’s take a day off next week and get married at the courthouse,” he suggested, stepping closer to brush your hair back from your face. “We can go stay the night at a hotel, and I can make some reservations for us to take a real honeymoon when we can both get the time off. One of the guys can cover for me at the shop and-” 

“I don’t think I even have a dress that fits me right now,” you murmured, your hand drifting over the swell of your stomach, your bottom lip pushed out like you were considering it anyway. 

“I would marry you even if we were both wearing trash bags,” he said, careful to keep his tone light as he caressed your cheek. 

“Can I think about it?” You spoke softly, and internally, he had to stifle his irritation. Remind himself that you didn’t understand his urgency. 

“Of course,” he replied, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Dinner’s ready,” you mumbled, looking up at him with nothing but trust as you gestured back towards the kitchen. 

“Can I pick dessert?” He asked, and you just rolled your eyes before nodding. 

“Whatever you want.” 

You meant it. 

Willing to let him feast on you as soon as his food settled, the taste of you on his tongue even as his cock ruthlessly rutted inside of you, savoring your moans as he fucked you fast and hard. Hands and knees sinking into the mattress, your face buried into a pillow as he supported your weight, careful to not hurt you as he crammed his cock all the way in. 

“Look at the way you’re taking me,” he muttered, jaw tensed tight as he shut his own eyes, trying to erase the image burning behind them, desperate to replace it with a new one.

“F-fuck,” you choked it out, fingers digging into the blankets as you squirmed in his grip. Swallowing hard like you couldn’t control your spit. “D-did you miss me that much?” 

“Of course, baby,” he grunted, feeling the way you clamped around his cock, shifting the angle so he could rub it just below your womb. 

He knew what you liked. 

What you wanted. 

He knew it before you did. 

Giving it to you wasn’t wrong. 

Weren’t you happier with him?

You looked like you were in heaven when he stuffed you this full, your lashes fluttering and your words all stuttered and slurred, clinging onto him any way you could as your warmth sucked him in. 

He couldn’t help but compare it to the way you looked when you were with him though. Measuring how much adoration there was, studying the way you squirmed and shuddered, how you responded to his touch and tried to decide if it was the same. 

You liked him more, didn’t you? 

“You love me,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he bottomed out, your broken gasp music to his ears.

“Mm, mhm, I-” you couldn’t even speak, the words morphing into a whine as you bit down on the blanket beneath you. His fingers grazed back over your clit, rubbing harder and faster to coax you to a climax – tugging you towards it with each rough circle he traced. 

“Say it.” 

He needed to hear it. 

“I love you,” you half-whispered, your reply automatic and affectionate, as if you really meant it.

He relished it. Revered the words the way he worshipped you. 

You came seconds before he did. Squeezing around him with one more needy moan, thighs trembling as he finished with you, filling you up with cum he knew would be leaking down your leg the rest of the night. 

God, he couldn’t wait until you had this baby and he could put one of his own in you. 

Wasn’t it better for a kid to have a sibling? 

He slammed his hips back into your ass, fucking the cum back into you as you cried his name out, pretty wet tear streaks coating your face by the time he pulled out, flipping you onto your back and dragging his tongue over them to lick them away, liking the way you laughed and called him gross. 

“Will you get the shower running?” You asked, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair as you shifted, your lips pursing together like you were sticky. 

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, yawning as he got up, content to spend the rest of the night replaying the words he wringed from you and basking in the warmth of your body pressed against his. “I can put together that seat this weekend.” 

Right as he climbed off the bed, he heard his phone buzz from the nightstand, snagging it to see a message from an unknown number, his post-sex afterbuzz immediately wiped away before he even opened it. 

It was an old photo of you. 

He knew when it was. Recognized the shirt you were wearing, the way you wore your hair, could pinpoint the month and year within seconds. 

You were sitting outside on a patio, sipping a coffee and smiling. 

But that wasn’t why he sent it. 

No, it was what was in the background. Or who. 

He was sitting there, his dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose – but his focus was entirely on you. 

If you happened to see it-

Shit. 

He thought it would be enough to marry you. But if that dickhead didn’t want to move on, he supposed he’d have to make him.

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