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aeyumicore · 1 month

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☾ .⭒˚ heart within reach ♡ zayne x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, porn with some plot

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 5.6k

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, car sex, road head, fingering, messyyyy cum smearing, slight degradation (just one line), finger sucking, somewhat public/voyeurism?

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommend watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hUtBlb2fjQ

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HELLO FRIENDS i am back with my twist on the new ‘heart within reach’ memory with zayne :)

i’ll likely be releasing fics at a FAR slower pace now, as i find myself lacking motivation lately and wanting to do other things instead of write. i don’t plan on quitting at all! just will be slower <3 but i’m always checking tumblr and twitter (@/aeyumicore) if you want to interact with me!

please enjoy!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

you hummed to the low volume of the music thrumming in zayne’s car, the two of you sitting in his audi in front of your apartment building. you didn’t want this perfect day with zayne to end, a day spent together with no emergent surgeries, no threat of wanderers, just you and zayne enjoying the fair and the sunset.

“thank you for hanging out with me today,” you smile softly at him, unwilling to get out of the car just yet.

“you’re welcome,” his hand still rests on the steering wheel as he peers at your apartment through the front dash, “let me know when you’re inside.”

you sigh internally, not at all surprised at zayne’s dismissive words. “okay, ” is all you say as you turn to open the passenger door. but before you do, you decide to glance at him again. he doesn’t make a single sound as his head hangs low, his hand still gripping the steering wheel.

you sigh, trying your best to bury your neediness. you didn’t want the night to end yet; it was rare zayne got full days like today off…or nights. nights where zayne would literally make you forget your own name, only knowing how to chant his name over and over.

“don’t forget mr. seal,” zayne murmurs, snapping you out of your desperate and filthy thoughts of him.

“you don’t want to keep him?”

“he won’t like my house. it’s too monochrome and…simple.” he twists his body to reach for the seal plushie he’d won for you at the fair. you suppress a giggle when instead of grabbing the toy, he speaks to it.

“hello.” you want to tease him for his stoicness even when speaking to an adorable plushie.

“you’re scaring him, dr. zayne!” you burst out laughing, and zayne joins in, the sound of his deep chuckle burrowing deep into your brain and making your heart flutter. it wasn’t often zayne smiled or laughed, he preferred to smile with his eyes. but when he did laugh, it was the most precious sound you’d ever heard.

“i have nothing else to say.” you can’t tell if he means nothing to say to the plushie or to you.

“yeah…see you later?” you say softly. you want to kick yourself for your own unyielding stubbornness, wanting him to show you that he might want to spend more time with you too, that he might want to spend the night with you. it would be much easier if you could just swallow your pride and ask him to come in.

but zayne speaks again before you can even move. his voice is exceptionally low, so much so that your breath hitches, “i was wondering…if i had forgotten something. and if you were upset because of it.” you grin a little, your disappointment fading little by little, knowing he’s teasing you now. knowing he’s fully aware of what you want from him, and that he wants to give it to you. but he wants to make you work a little for it.

“do you remember what you’ve forgotten?” you quip, unwilling to be the one to give in.

“i’m not sure…” his voice is throaty with what you hope is desire, but you stay steadfast in your resolve, unwilling to be the one to admit that you don’t want to leave yet. so you lean in, close enough that zayne can feel your warm breath fan across his face. he does his best to hide the way his breath catches in his throat at just how close you were.

“look zayne,” you say brightly, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering at your proximity to the man you adored with your entire heart.

“what?” comes his curt response, but you can see the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“me!”

zayne chuckles, his smile reaching his green eyes, “i know what you look like.” he reaches to stroke your face, playing with the strands of hair that fall into your eyes. you force yourself to keep your eyes on his, and to not let them fall to his lips, that you want on yours so badly. he speaks again, this time his low voice is almost sad and reminiscent, “after this i wont be able to see you for quite some time.”

his hand grabs your chin this time, tilting it upwards so that you’re more level with him. you so desperately want him to pull your face to his, capturing your lips that he does so knee buckling well, “since we’re both very busy we should meet up whenever we can.” he’s very careful with his words, but you can feel the longing in his tone. he will miss you as much, if not more, than how much you will miss him.

“what are you thinking about? you’re smiling.” his fingers still grip your chin, gently but demandingly, not letting you look anywhere but at him. you don’t answer, but your smile widens as you look at his amused deep eyes. you have a feeling he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

“well…i think i might be very close to the answer,” he murmurs, eyes flitting downward to your lips. your heart skips a beat as you catch him staring at your mouth, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you. you steel yourself, trying to calm your pounding heartbeat, intent on dishing back all of zayne’s feigned cluelessness.

you poke his cheek and your voice comes out playfully, “will you dream of me tonight zayne?”

he chuckles, his hand darting up to touch where your finger grazed, hoping you don’t notice the way his cheeks flush at the slightest touch, “…we did visit a lot of places and i am tired. however it seems unlikely.”

you roll your eyes at the game the two of you were playing and you refused to be the one to give in. you poke his cheek again, pouting, “then i won't dream either.”

zayne catches your hand, still trying to poke his cheek, clenching it softly in his hand and bringing your joined palms down to rest on the center console of his luxurious car. his fingers are cold around yours, but you feel them slowly warm up as they hug onto yours.

when he doesn’t release you from his hold, you peer at him curiously and cocking your head to the side, “why are you still holding my hand, dr. zayne?”

he smirks, thumb rubbing circles onto your wrist, “i’ve only confiscated it. i’ll return it when you decide to behave.” you bite back a shiver at his words, your resolve dissolving little by little. you clench your thighs at the look he gives you, your body always reacting readily to his double meaning laced words and heated expressions of desire.

he leans in, bringing his free hand up to your cheek, cupping it gently. his other hand still holds yours, “alright, it's getting late. you should go home.” despite his words, you can sense the hesitation in his voice. but still, you turn to leave.

“...yeah, bye,” you murmur. but zayne’s grasp on your wrist tightens, pulling you back.

“when would we be able to meet up again?” his voice is hopeful, adorably so. zayne brings his phone to his face, the screen lighting up his face in the dim darkness of his car, twinkling like the lights outside.

“let me guess, your schedule is packed?”

zayne ignores your quip, “next week, sunday.” it’s not a question, he’s telling you. the charge in his voice, the demand, the demand to see you. it makes your skin crawl with anticipation.

“if we’re seeing each other sunday, then ill start getting ready on saturday,” you beam at him, already giddy with excitement. zayne lowers his phone to stare at you.

“anyway…” you lean in to touch his face but pull away just as your fingers are about to caress his cheek, “good night.” you’re about to whip your head around to get out of his car but zayne captures your chin and leans into you. your incessant teasing has backfired, as you find yourself caught like a prey in zayne’s hungry stare. you gulp as his eyes flutter to your lips, and yours to his.

“if i’m able to see you sunday, i'll start getting excited thursday,” zayne’s voice is deep and husky, and he leans in to take your lips into his. you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your mouth as his soft and cold lips press into you. he smiles against you, sensually caressing every part of you against his tongue and pulling you impossibly closer with his fingers on your chin.

he kisses you deliberately, taking it impossibly slow. you can vaguely hear him chuckle into you through the pounding in your ears as your tongue begs him for entry into his mouth. he grants it willingly, and your tongues clash deliciously, leaving you whimpering as your panties dampen at just the feel of his mouth on yours.

you whine when zayne pulls away, to which he chuckles, fingers stroking your chin soothingly.

you speak up and glance at him, his lips alone dissolving all of your stubborn determination, “wh-why should we wait until sunday? i…i don’t want to go yet.”

the content smirk that graces his face makes you blush, “where do you suppose we go?”

“why don’t we take mr. seal to your place? i want you to keep him. so he can see his new home, and we can all watch a movie!” zayne smiles warmly at your giddiness, absolutely in love with the way you light up at the thought of spending more time with him.

“are you sure?” he murmurs softly, almost having to force himself to say the words and fight how much he would love to bring you back to his place and spend every second with you. “you’re not too tired?”

you bite your lip, trying to tamp down your blinding grin and furious blush, “take me to your place zayne.”

zayne wastes no time in peeling out of the street, but leaves his hand on your thigh as he drives with just his left hand. you peek at him through the corner of your eye, admiring how his sharp and defined jaw connects to his bobbing neck, the muscles so defined under the faint night lights. his fingers slowly inch their way under your skirt, rubbing circles into your bare thighs. you pray zayne doesn’t notice the way your thighs press closer together at his touch.

his grip on the fat of your thighs only tighten, using his fingernails to torturously graze inexplicable shapes into your tingling skin. through the edges of your vision, you can briefly make out his satisfied smile.

of course he’s purposely trying to torture you. well two can definitely play that game.

you lean over the center console, looping your arms around his free arm, laying your head into his bicep and intertwining your fingers with his. you can feel his muscles stiffen for a second before they relax under your embrace, his fingers tightening with yours.

“is it okay that i’m coming over?” you murmur into his clothed muscular arm, kissing against the smooth fabric up to his shoulder.

his voice comes out in a grunt, one that makes you smile to yourself as you squeeze his taut muscles. he clears his throat, “yes. why wouldn’t it be?”

your hand moves to rest against his thigh, “you don’t invite me over very often.”

“do you want to come over more often?”

your fingers dig into his thigh, just barely but enough that his thick quad muscles tense up under your touch. despite being the one in control, you can’t stop your voice from coming out as a mere whisper, “of course. i want to see where the amazing dr. zayne lives. where he eats, where he reads his medical journals, where he…goes to sleep at night.” you relish in the way his breath catches ever so slightly at the mention of his bedroom.

when those words leave your mouth, your hand reaches to graze his crotch. you bite your lip in surprise when you’re met with his hard length. filled with renewed confidence, you grasp his erection through his pants.

“y/n…” his voice is a feral warning, “behave.”

but his words only spur you on further. you find yourself replaying every single time zayne has driven you to blinding, world shattering orgasms. his hands on your throat, lips on every inch of your skin, manhood buried deep inside. your thighs clench as your slick continues to dampen your panties, and you decide you don’t want to wait or behave.

your fingers move to undo his belt but zayne’s hand releases yours to grip your hand that’s trying to undress him, “i’m driving.”

his hold is tight and refuses to let you venture further into where you want to go, “you’re a surgeon…i know you can multitask.” you shimmy your fingers from his grasp, but he only grips you tighter. his jaw is clenched and his adam’s apple bobs as he speaks, voice a raspy plea for mercy.

“this can’t wait until we get to my place?”

but you only pout at him, even if his eyes are locked on the road ahead, “please zayne?” you know how he loves when you beg, using it to your advantage. “i’ll be such a good girl for you.”

your pleas make him briefly snap his eyes to yours, off of the road, as his cock threatens to rip through his slacks, wanting nothing more than to be released and seek your touch. in his brief moment of weakness, you deftly free your fingers and undo his belt in one fell swoop. zayne hisses as your hands reach in to grasp his massive erection in your palm, still not used to his more than impressive size no matter how many times he’d molded your cunt into its shape.

“you will actually be the death of me, y/n.” you giggle at his words as your hands find their way to his bare manhood and bring it out into the tepid air of the car, marveling at the way it twitches at every tiny graze across your fingers. you lean over as much as you can against the restraint of your seatbelt, so you can earnestly jerk him up and down in your soft palm.

zayne’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning deathly white as he groans unabashedly at your ministrations. the sound of his moans hits your ears, fueling your confidence and the burning desire in your gut.

zayne thrusts ever so slightly up into your grip, chasing the feeling only your body can bring him, “jesus i’m not gonna last long like this.”

before your confidence has a chance to dissipate, you unlatch your seatbelt and lean you torso over the center console. zayne’s eyes bulge but remain on the road, his hands still holding the steering wheel with a deathly grip. you can tell he’s about to scold you, the worry evident in the way his every muscle tenses under your touch. but before he can reprimand you, you let your tongue swipe the underside of his cock, all the way up to his thickly swollen head.

zayne’s words die on his lips as a strangled growl rips out instead, his hips bucking into you as you take his head fully into your warm mouth. you purposely suckle just his engorged tip, desperate to make him lose complete control because of you.

“ffucking hell y/n,” he moans, squirming under you and raising his hips just slightly, still trying to maintain a tight grip on his self-control. you hum into him, letting the tip of your tongue flick continuously over his leaking slit. the taste of him is sweet on your tongue and so damn addicting. zayne’s breath is so heavy, you can practically feel his body heave up and down with his deep breaths.

finally, you sink lower, taking as much of him as you can before he hits the back of your throat. you gag around him, throat constricting around his thick length as he keeps the car shockingly steady and straight on the road. you feel one of zayne’s hand leave the steering wheel to gently thread itself into the hair on the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp as you bob up and down.

“throat’s so damn tight,” zayne grunts out, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him.

with how tall zayne is, his seat is far enough back where you can rest your head on his lap, between him and the steering wheel, without endangering your lives. so you rest the side of your head on his lap, lips attaching to the base of his manhood, looking up at him through the blurry tears on your eyelashes. you teasingly lick at him, eyes trained on his flushed face. his eyes occasionally flit down to stare at you in lust-crazed awe before darting back to the road.

“make sure you keep your eyes on the road zayne,” you sing, licking his length like a popsicle, refusing to take him back into your mouth just yet.

“i will, just be a good girl and keep sucking for me baby.”

your chest lurches at his words, absolutely loving his subtle pleas for you. his voice is so urgent with demand and need.

your body aches from your awkward position over the center of his car, but you want to give him more. you bring yourself back up to take him back fully into your lips. starting slow, your pace gradually picks up until you’re full on fucking your throat onto him and the sounds of your gags and moans, his throaty praises, and the obscene squelches of your lips on his soaked cock fill the car.

“shit, i’m gonna cum soon love,” zayne grunts, his hand in your hair a bit more forceful now, pushing you down onto his cock while still maintaining flawless control of the car. you’re unable to contain your deep moans of satisfaction as he grips your head, forcing you to take more. you love the way he’s coming undone for you, evident in the way his hands grab at you fervently and the uncontrollable stream of lust-filled moans leaving his lips.

his length inside your mouth twitches as you diligently suck him off, savoring the taste and feel of him in you. your moans vibrate all around his throbbing length, helping to push him into releasing his load into you. his hips thrust gently into your mouth as his hands push you down, letting his cock fuck into your mouth with the most torturously delicious rhythm. the way your tongue works around him makes him shiver as he alternates between watching the road and you with dilated eyes. you can barely register the effortless turns he makes with his single hand, or when the car grinds to a smooth stop.

“fuuck – my girl is doing so damn good for me,” he breathes out, the lightest whine in his throat which strokes your ego. your heart flutters when he calls you his, and your throat tightens as you continue to bob.

zayne’s grip in your hair tightens, “gonna cum, you’re gonna take it all right?”

you hum in approval. the vibrations resonate in every inch of zayne’s leaking erection as he explodes into your mouth and down your throat, his load so thick and heavy that it threatens to make you choke.

“jesus fuck – hah – fuck,” he swears as he shoots out endless ropes into your throat, his release never ending as your lips and tongue work in tandem to prolong his pleasure.

zayne strokes your hair as he languidly thrusts up into your mouth, riding out the last waves of his intense orgasm. you do your best to swallow every drop, but stray rivulets of his spend drip down your chin as you release his cock with a pop.

as you sit up, zayne watches you in awe and adoration, reeling from what just happened, what you just did for him. he grabs your chin once again, “open, let me see.”

you giggle, wincing slightly at the sore aches in your throat as you stick your tongue out for him to inspect. he uses his thumb to catch the cum falling down your chin, scooping it back up to your mouth. you take him into your mouth eagerly, always desperate to please him.

his eyes darken as he watches you lick his digit clean, so shadowed they reflect the night sky outside. it’s then you notice that zayne’s car is parked, and not in front of his home. you look out the tinted windows and see you’re back at the bridge overlooking the linkon river, only it’s completely empty and dark now that the sun has set.

“why are we–” but yours words are cut off as zayne unlatches his seatbelt and swiftly exits the car and opens the back door, leaving you confused. you’re about to get out too but zayne is on your side in an instant, opening your door and yanking you out. you yelp as he hooks his arms under your knees and easily carries you out like a princess.

“zayne!” you squeal, “what are you doing?!”

he doesn’t answer, instead leaning down to press his lips into yours, kissing you with a bruising passion that makes you lose your breath. you feel him lower you into his backseat, still hunched over with his lips firmly attached to yours. he quickly pulls mr. seal out from under you and places the plushie on the rear window shelf. you almost want to giggle at his actions, finding it adorable how he cares about the plushie enough to not just knock it over onto the car floor.

you pull away reluctantly as your back hits the cool leather, “zayne? what are we doing here? what’s going on?”

zayne climbs in between your legs, shutting the door behind him, and loosening his tie. you squeak when your skirt rides up and his knee pushes firmly against your cunt. you bite your lip as you watch him undo his tie, pulling it off completely before bending back down until he’s inches from your breath. his palm cups your sex under your skirt, pulling a surprised squeal from your lips.

“since you want to be such a desperate little cock hungry girl,” he murmurs, fingers moving your panties to the side and sliding his slender fingers into your dripping slit, “i’m gonna treat you like one.”

you moan as his finger breaches you, back arching off the backseat, grinding further into his finger.

“look at you,” he grins, “so needy for me. can’t even wait until i take you back to my place, huh?”

your response dies on your tongue as he inserts another finger, stretching you around him, “so fucking eager to have my cock in your mouth.”

you whine at the welcomed intrusion, fluttering around his lengthy fingers and doing your best to speak, “nnng, m’sorry zayne just needed to taste you so so bad.”

the content look of satisfaction lights up his handsome features, “what about this pussy baby? does she need me too?” your eyes roll into the back of your skull as he curls his fingers inside of you, your fingers seeking to clutch something, anything, to ground you amidst the pleasure. you try to answer his filthy words, but his fingers stroking your spongy g spot render you a blubbering mess.

“look at her,” he coos, “perfect little pussy was made just for me.” his fingers make you see stars. “you want to be filled so badly huh? can’t even wait until we get home?”

with his free hand, zayne reaches to bring his cock out, still painfully hard despite the unbelievable amount of cum he’d unloaded into your mouth.

against all odds, your brain clears for a brief second to let you think logically while your eyes dart around, “w-wait, what if some-someone sees?” the excitement builds in your core at the thought of zayne, who normally was so averse to any kind of pda, wanting you so badly he’d pulled over so he could take you in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of a public park.

but even at this angle you can tell zayne’s windows are so tinted, coupled with the darkness outside there’s no way anyone could see unless they had their noses pressed up against the glass.

zayne slips your panties down and off your legs, pocketing them before lining his leaking cock with your quivering hole. he rubs his tip up and down, brushing it against your swollen clit. your body arches towards him, begging to be used by him as your lewd moans ring in his ear.

“so?” he murmurs, ghosting along your hole but refusing to put it in just yet. “i would love for someone to see how this perfect little cunt takes me.” he inserts his tip in, just that alone knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“how it was made just for me to fuck,” he grunts, easing himself into you. one of your legs hangs off the car seat as the other rests on his shoulder. with one hand he holds your thigh and the other grips the door rest for support as he hunches over you. his words make your tummy stir, your cunt clenching around him. as he bottoms out, your hand clutches at the driver seat headrest, needing to ground yourself as he stretches you to the max.

“zaaayne,” you slur, “s-so big. feel soo good, please.” your hands reach to clutch at his perfect face, admiring the tiniest twinges in his muscles as he burrows as deeply as possible in your pussy that hugs him so perfectly. his hand releases its grip on the door handle to squeeze your hips, pulling and dragging you against his hard pelvis with every thrust.

the sound of your bare ass repeatedly pounding against his body rings in the small constraint of the back seat, the air thick with sex and arousal. you can vaguely feel your slick dripping down the plush of your ass, onto the leather as zayne fucks into you like he’s trying to find your esophagus with his cock.

through your hooded eyes you can see how fogged up the windows have become, ensuring that virtually nobody could see into the car. but if anyone did see the steamy glass it would be absolutely no secret what the occupants inside were doing. the thought of that excited you beyond comprehension.

zayne throws his head back as he continues his incessant rolls into your core, gasping out a deep and guttural cry, “heaven. you are heaven.”

his words have you whining, using your nails to clutch at his shoulders, clawing desperately at his muscles.

“ngh, z-zayne,” you pant, stray dribbles of drool dripping down your chin, your breasts bouncing with the force at which he spears you onto his body.

“look at you, soaking the damn seats,” zayne chuckles, eyeing the shiny slick on the expensive leather seats, “do you like it when i take you in the back of my car? like a needy little cock whore?”

you gasp at his words, unbelievably aroused at the utter filth that comes out of his mouth as he ruts as deep as he can into your velvet warmth.

zayne groans, “did you just get tighter?” his eyes sparkle as he gazes at you with adoration and reverence. “god, you like it when i talk to you like that huh?” you nod vigorously, fighting the blush on your cheeks and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel yourself succumbing to an incoming orgasm.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect,” he moans, cock quivering in your folds, “thought about this all fucking day.”

“i walked around that fair all day when i just wanted to be in here,” he places his fingers on the mound of your cunt and massages gently, a stark contrast to the brutal pace of his cock ramming inside your sensitive walls. “could fucking live in you.”

you whimper as his thumb shifts to your clit, forcing you to face your impending orgasm head on.

“zaaayne, i’m-im gonna cum,” you wail, hands finding purchase on his thick pulsing neck, nails digging into his nape, sure to leave marks. he hisses at the sting that only feeds the intensity of the pleasure he derives from pounding into your perfect walls.

zayne grabs your chin roughly, bringing your thrown back head back up to meet his heated and hungry eyes and then pulling your chin down, “watch. watch me fuck my load inside you.” you're instantly hypnotized at the sight of his slick and shiny length rutting in and out of you, the veins glistening and throbbing with need.

“good fucking girl,” he grunts, pounding into you with a new vigor as he reaches his undoing alongside you. your leg is bent in a muscle screaming angle while he roughly grabs the side of your neck, bringing your foreheads together as he makes his final thrusts.

keeping your eyes on where your bodies are joined, you cry out, “nnngh zayne, m’cumming. please, please, don’t stop.” zayne harshly groans at your pleas, the sounds of your unhinged begging forever ingrained in his mind. your climax causes you to squeeze unbelievably tight around him, sending him toppling over his own orgasm.

the sounds of your combined moans fill the air as zayne spurts rope after rope of thick and hot cum into your quivering hole. you whimper as he suddenly pulls out of you, eyes widening as you watch even more cum erupt from his massive length, the warm milky cum painting the outside of your cunt, leaking between your lips, into your rear, and onto his luxurious leather seats.

zayne is panting, clutching onto your thigh still thrown over his shoulder, “so fucking messy.” he uses his length, somehow still erect, to smear his cum all over the outside of your cunt, practically fucking into your lips. your entire body shakes as he brushes against your overstimulated clit.

“no-no more,” you whimper, scooting backwards into the side door and sitting up.

zayne smirks, “what happened to my impatient girl? you were so eager when i was driving.” he uses his index and middle finger to swipe down your slit, coating his digits in your combined spend.

bringing it up to your parted lips, his satisfied grin deepens, “since my girl is so eager for my cum, don’t want you missing the taste.” you roll your eyes, but take him into your mouth instinctively. your body always has a mind of its own, willing to do everything and anything to please the unbelievably handsome doctor before you.

zayne presses down onto your tongue as he watches you devour his fingers, biting back the groan of arousal. he pulls away, kneeling up to redo his pants. you sit up, trying to smooth out your clothing but there’s absolutely nothing you can do about the absolute puddle between your thighs.

“zaaayne,” you whine as he climbs off of you, feeling exposed as the warm sex-filled draft of the car brushes against your bare cunt, “where are my panties?”

his eyes glimmer with mischief while his fingers lovingly smooth out your wild thoroughly sexed up hair.

“i’ve confiscated them. you’ll get them back when we get back to my home.”

you pout at him, but don’t argue, knowing you will absolutely not get your way this time.

zayne throws his arm around your shoulder and you melt into his strong arm, feeling utterly exhausted and content. zayne leans over to kiss the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your pheromones and the arousal laced air. you watch the steam on the windows slowly dissipate to reveal how the night lights glitter against the calm river.

his voice is gruff, deep with satisfaction and tiredness, when he finally breaks the comfortable silence, “will you stay with me tonight?” his tone is calm and controlled but you can distinctly make out the faintest traces of desperation, which makes your heart flutter.

“i thought you’d never ask.” you don’t notice zayne’s faint sigh of relief as his arms grip you tighter against him, finding solace in the rhythmic way your body heaves and your heartbeat steadies.

eventually zayne, despite your cries of protest, carries you back to the passenger front door, placing you gently into the seat and buckling you in before getting back into the driver seat and starting the car. you squirm as the slick between your legs continues to drip, shifting so your skirt blocks the leather from your bare skin.

“will you dream about me if i’m sleeping next to you?” you tease, bringing up your conversation from earlier. you can’t help but admire the handsome features of his side profile as he focuses on the road.

though he doesn’t turn to you, you can see the quirk in the corner of his lips, “in order to dream, you need to sleep.” his hand leaves the steering wheel to stroke your knee, making you shiver at his possessive touch. “and since i plan to stay up all night devouring you…i won’t have time to dream.”

tag list: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun @achicilove

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writingdumpster · 9 months

Text

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob.

I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo

“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit.

“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered.

“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said.

“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested.

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman.

“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback.

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out.

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted.

“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said.

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in.

“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said.

“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker.

“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was.

“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up.

“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.

“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin.

“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer.

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you.

“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.”

“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed.

“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife.

“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked.

“Y/N,” you told her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.

“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it.

“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.”

“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back.

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said.

“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly.

“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.

“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question.

“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you.

“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.

“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster.

“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back.

“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked.

“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet.

“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out.

“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled.

“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained.

“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained.

“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said.

“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry.

“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face.

“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home.

“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base.

“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered.

“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said.

“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted.

“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”

A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #top gun x reader #dagger squad x reader #bob floyd x reader fluff #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

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kyeomofhearts · 1 month

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Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

Part Two: Coming soon...

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kayesfanfics · 16 days

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X-Men 97’ Nightcrawler x Reader

Warnings: ‼️X-MEN 97’ SPOILERS‼️, smut under the cut, cuteness overload-

A/N: KURT IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE X-MAN/MARVEL CHARACTER IN GENERAL I ADORE HIM SO OF COURSE I HAD TO WRITE FOR HIM AFTER THE NEW EPISODE. I really hope we see him join the team or at least just more of him!

You were a mutant on Genosha when you met Kurt, he had helped show you and the other mutants around from your ship the island, and you had followed the handsome blue boy around like a lost little puppy. He was charming and mischievous, flirty with a cute fangy smile on his face. After the official tour was over, you asked him to show you some hidden gems of the island, to which he bowed and kissed your hand, “As you wish!” before teleporting the two of you away from the crowd. He had showed you a beautiful, peaceful and tropical spot away from everyone else, where the two of you got to know each other, soon becoming friends and meeting at that spot almost every day

He’d ask you out on a date pretty quick, he’s not shy about flirting at all and will make it clear that he finds you attractive and would like to know you more intimately. He’d take you to a nice restaurant, showing up in a dashing suit to impress you and his curls gelled back in a slick style. Will compliment you on your dress/suit and have you twirl for him to see the full outfit, saying “Mein gott! You look absolutely stunning, liebe!” before pulling out your seat for you like a gentleman and ordering a nice bottle of wine for the both of you to have with your dinner

After dinner you go for a walk around the gardens, holding Kurt’s arm he held out for you. His tail would curl around one of your legs as you talked, sitting on a bench together to view the night sky above the beautiful greenery together. He’d want to know your life story and would share his with you, he’d want to know what you like to do, what you hate, what you’re afraid of, what you love, and he’d share all of that about himself with you as well

After a few dates you became official, more often than not staying with each other in your homes (we’ll get to what goes on in the bedroom later😉). He’s a huge cuddler for sure, wants both his arms around you and his tail curled around your waist or leg. He doesn’t mind being big spoon or little spoon, he’s perfectly content and happy with both and just wants to feel your skin against his. He’s big on physical affection and PDA, he just loves you so much and he’s a physical guy in general. Wants to be able to hold your hand, give you kisses, wrap an arm around your waist, anything as long as he touching you in some way. Plus he likes to show off how lucky he got with you, showing you off and always making sure everyone knows he’s taken. He’s highly sought after, after all (if you ask him)

He’s always got a date planned, he’s definitely not one of those guys that lets the other do all the work in the relationship. He’ll take you to your favorite restaurants, do your favorite activities, anything you would like to do. He’s adventurous and will try anything once, and will always make an effort to do things you enjoy. He will teach you some sword fighting skills, just you know how to use them and plus, do some borderline erotic sparring sessions with him of course! It’s something he enjoys and wants to do with you, but if he ever cut you with a sword he’d want to damn himself to Hell because HOW DARE HE GIVE YOU A CUT LESS THAN A CENTIMETER LONG?! HE’S THE WORST PERSON TO EVER EXIST. He will bandage it and kiss it better, begging your forgiveness despite you already saying it wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t even hurt at all

When you were recruited to the X-Men, he was offered a spot as well so the both of you packed up and moved to the X-Mansion so you could help mutants from there. On missions, he’ll always catch you if you fall and teleport you out of harms way. Definitely flirts during battle as well and likes to show off his skills to you, making you giggle and smile at him before focusing back on the mission. If you get hurt during it, he’ll teleport you to the mansion immediately to the medical room before going to help his teammates so he can get you their help quicker. Will spend lots of time with you and cuddle with you while you recover, you don’t have to lift a finger, this man will get you whatever you want

He does like to tease you a lot, things like squeezing your butt as you walk by or giving it a light smack with his tail. Will whisper innuendos and jokes to you during important meetings and such to make you giggle, to which Scott gives you a deadpan stare until the two of you refocus. His tail will move up your pants or skirt under the table, making your face heat up

He’s constantly winning you over long after you’ve become official. Will still bring you flowers, will still flirt with you, but he’s also the type to be like “Would you still love me if I was a bug?” He does need some reassurance due to his looks and how he’s been hated because of them, like, HE knows he’s sexy, but he wants to make sure YOU think he’s sexy. And you assure him you think he is⬇️⬇️

NSFW Under the Cut

Oh he is SUCH a lover boy. He’s more focused on your pleasure than his own for sure, and my man is SKILLED and EXPERIENCED (everyone wants a taste of the fuzzy man-). His hands will be all over your body, even his tail will be wrapped around you as well, and he’ll be mindlessly blabbering on and on in English and German about how much he loves you and how beautiful/handsome he thinks you are. My dude is AMAZING at giving you head, doesn’t matter which genitals you have, he’s got experience with both and will have your legs shaking and your back arched far off the bed during round one. If you’re AFAB, he’d know exactly where the clit is and exactly how to pleasure it, rather than just roughly rubbing it and calling it good. If you’re AMAB, he’d for sure be fingering your ass while sucking you off, his other hand squeezing your thigh and spreading your legs for him while his tail holds your other leg for him, or even smacks your ass with it teasingly

You often insist on giving him head in return, which of course he doesn’t mind but HE IS ALWAYS TRYING TO MAKE SEX ABOUT YOU, when you want to make it about HIM sometimes. He’s so loving, caring and sweet to you, you just want to show him how much you love him as well and sometimes have to get that through his fuzzy head. He loves body worship for sure, so he’d love to hear you say how hot and sexy and handsome and adorable and beautiful he is while the two of you make love to each other, it’d make him cum 10x harder and faster

He’d lowkey be kind of basic and love missionary, but he’s certainly not vanilla. He just wants to be able to see your face and to hold you close to him, so missionary tends to be good for that, but he’d also love it if you rode him and watch your chest bounce and toss your head back at the feeling of his cock inside of you. I honestly think he’s got more girth and length, but definitely not too short at all and would fit perfectly inside of you. He also likes to hold your hand during sex, which may be cheesy but he just wants to make sure you’re okay the whole time

Being in a mansion with many others, it is sometimes hard to find privacy and quiet time for longer than 20 minutes, so he’ll sometimes teleport the two of you elsewhere so you’re not interrupted. When in your room at the mansion though, he likes to make you scream while teasing you to be quiet and that someone will hear you, covering your mouth with his hand or kissing you muffle your loud moans and whines for him. But when the two of you walk out to the living quarters to join some of the others, Jubilee and Roberto will not make eye contact, Morph will give Kurt a knowing smirk and a high five, while Gambit outright says “You know we could hear y’all at it all the way down here-“ before Scott gives you two the disappointed dad look and says “There are children residing here.”

Kurt: And how exactly did Jean get pregnant?

Scott: 😳

Kurt: Yeah, that’s what I thought-

#x-men x reader #x men 97 #xmen x reader #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #Kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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greenorangevioletgrass · 8 months

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give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still.

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin.

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine.

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight.

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son.

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either.

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall.

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father.

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together.

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma.

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up.

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head.

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms.

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household.

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating.

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?”

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

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hom3landr · 4 months

Text

Homelander has a very merry Christmas

18+

Homelander shakes his head in disbelief as he lounges in his chair at the head of the Seven table. It’s been a year…a whole year since the day you entered his life. He still has the ribbon from that first package, tucked discreetly into his waistband. It’s frayed now and soft from running it through his fingers. He’ll touch his hip softly sometimes, right where he knows it rests, when his ears ring and his eyes begin to burn. Countless lives have been saved just from a little piece of fabric. It was the first gift he’d ever truly been given that didn’t have dozens of corporate strings attached. He wonders if you’ll bring him more candy, now that Christmas is right around the corner. He can still perfectly remember the taste a year later.

But your hands are empty when he sees you, and there’s a nervous stiffness to your shoulders that he’s not sure he enjoys. You’re fiddling with your fingers as you approach. He’s disappointed, he really was looking forward to some candy. But you give him a shy smile and he pushes down the sullenness rising in his chest. You hop up on the table in front of him, a bad habit you’ve picked up ever since that day you brought him the cake. He supposes that’s on him for encouraging you. He ignores the urge to tug you into his lap instead.

“Sooooooo…I don’t have anything for you today but I did want to ask you something.” You look down at your hands before pausing, trying to spark the courage to continue. He tilts his head and waits, somewhat impatient and still annoyed at being denied. He doesn’t like the way you don’t meet his eyes. Surely your fingers can’t be more interesting than him. You take a deep breath.

“IwaswonderingifmaybeyouwantedtocometomyplaceforChristmas?” The words come spilling out uncontrollably and you stiffen up a bit once they’re out, bracing yourself for a denial.

Homelander’s heart stops.

“I know you’re probably really busy and you have plans and other people you’d rather be with.” He doesn’t. “But I was going to make gingerbread and watch some Christmas movies. I don’t have any family close by or…or friends really, so I usually spend Christmas on my own. It won’t be anything fancy but I’ll let you lick the spoon.” You let out an awkward laugh, obviously insecure about the simplicity of your plans. After all, how can your humble apartment compare to Vought’s glitz and finery? How could Homelander be content spending Christmas with a nobody like you?

If you only knew how much the offer wiped away any of the disappointment he felt about the candy. If only you knew how much he’s been longing to join you in the sugar-sweetness of your kitchen. He wants to leap up and take you in his arms. He wants to agree and whisk you away to start the holidays early…and privately. He’s never had a proper Christmas before. Just Vought’s pretty, sterile, fake, holiday bullshit. He found it cruel the way they’d let him watch movies on Christmas when he was in the lab. He still can’t watch A Christmas Story without feeling sick with want. But maybe…maybe this year will finally be different.

But reality sets in. He has the Vought Christmas party. He can’t skip it, as much as he’d love to. He’s been dreading it honestly. She’d always been there before, guiding him, leading him, making sure he got through the event with his shiny grin firmly in place. But that was gone, ended by his own hand. The last fucking bit of Christmas cheer he could have possibly had. He clenches his fist and he watches you shrink back, mistaking his grief for anger at your boldness. He wants to say yes…but he can’t

“We have the company Christmas party, remember? Surely you wouldn’t want to miss that. I get the honor of lighting up the tree” He beams, hoping it assures you that you are not the target of his ire. Sure he’d prefer to be tucked away with you but the party won’t be too bad if you’re there. If you’re there then her absence won’t matter.

But his hopes are quickly dashed.

“Oh I’m not high enough up on the totem pole to be invited, for business or pleasure.” You shrug, clearly not bothered by the corporate snub.

“Well…I can’t exactly miss it.” Your face falls at his reply and the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“But if you don’t mind staying up a little later, then maybe I can swing by real quick after to grab a cookie or two.” He reaches out to lay a hand warmly on your knee

You return his grin despite the disappointment in your eyes.

“I’ll wait up for you then”

~~~~~~~

It’s late by the time he’s finally released from his shiny decorated prison. He’s sick to death of Frank Sinatra and mistletoe. He barely resisted crushing the hand of every asshole who felt entitled to his attention purely due to the holiday festivities. He gritted his teeth while he was forced to kiss the asses of board members and politicians. He barely avoided lasering A-Train’s head clean off his body when he wrapped his arm around him for a photo op. He’s so overloaded that he’s halfway to his penthouse for some much needed rest when he remembers your offer.

He pulls aside some tipsy asshole for the time, annoyed that no one seems to have remained sober. It’s not long until midnight and he worries that maybe you’ll already have given up waiting. He worries that he’ll get to your apartment to find you already snug and sleeping in your bed. He reminds himself that he can always wake you up. After all, he’s seen you bake until the wee hours of the morning. He remembers when he’d watch you bake till not long before you’d be needing to rise for work. Surely…surely, you haven’t forgotten to wait for him.

The night is frigid as he flies towards your apartment. The cold doesn’t hinder him but it isn’t exactly pleasant as the sharp wind stings his cheeks. He’d always wave away Maeve’s complaints but he reluctantly admits to himself that she had a point about freezing over the Atlantic. Luckily it’s a far shorter path to your apartment building. So he ignores it. The thought of you keeps him warm anyway.

What he can’t ignore is the distinctly human shaped figure waiting on the roof. He knows your form intimately and he’s clocked you the moment he sees you. You’re shivering, wrapped only in an old threadbare bathrobe over some red pajamas. It’s far too cold to be loitering without winter wear and an exasperated concern grows in his chest. Couldn’t you at least have grabbed a jacket? It wouldn’t do for you to catch hyperthermia before he even gets to celebrate Christmas with you. You haven’t seen him yet and he makes sure to land behind you as quietly as he can, lip twitching mischievously.

“Are you cold? You look like you’re freezing” He calls out from the other side of the roof. You leap into the air and stumble a bit too close to the edge for his liking so he rushes to steady you. Even through his gloves he can feel how chilled you are. You look back at him, disbelief on your face but surprised delight in your eyes. You shake in his arms and before his brain consciously makes the decision to, he swiftly detaches his cape to wrap it warmly around your shoulders. Your cheeks heat despite the chill and he’s deeply pleased by the way you look and the way his scent mixes with yours.

“I’m alright. I was waiting for you! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to make it.” You clasp his cape tighter around you, teeth chattering. He pulls you closer so some of his heat can seep into you. He realizes that you may have been too focused watching for him to realize how chilled you are. He tuts at you, both flattered by your devotion and annoyed that you were so careless with your health.

“Would it have killed you to grab a coat?” He rubs your frozen hands between his gloved ones. Your answering smile is sweet and he’d blush if he could (He can. He did.)

“Are you worried about me?” You tease him lightly, eyes soft.

“I was promised gingerbread. If I’m promised something then I expect it to be delivered” He gives you a stern glare that’s tempered by the slight twitch of his lip as he fights a smile.

“Well, I can’t possibly deny you, can I?” Your lips quirk into a cheeky smirk. Your lighthearted words settle warm and heavy in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you feel so beautifully fragile in his grip, a small precious light that he keeps warm between his palms. You’re his. You’re so wonderfully his in this moment and deep within him, so deep he doesn’t even realize it yet, he’s become inescapably, completely, ineffably, yours.

You gesture for him to follow you down the fire escape to your floor. He follows behind as though he doesn’t have the way to your apartment imprinted in his mind. But your legs are stiff from the cold and after you slip slightly on the slick metal of the fire escape, he scoops you into his arms. You cling to him, stunned at the quickness and ease at which he gathered you up against his chest. You’re disoriented and wrap an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

“Don’t drop me!” you squeak and he laughs in response. You’re light as a feather to him and he’s not hindered by you at all. He would never, could never drop you.

“I won’t let you go, ever.” He reassures you and you relax against him, trusting him. You tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, and all of a sudden he has a sharp regret that his collar rises so high on his neck. He longs to feel your softness and your eyelashes brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. He can’t resist leaning his head against yours as he climbs effortlessly down the thin and rickety steps.

When he reaches your apartment, he assists you in finding your footing and guides you inside. You don’t question how he’s able to navigate your apartment with ease. Stepping into your kitchen is like getting reborn into another life, a life that he had been cruelly denied. You’ve decorated every inch. False snow lines the top of your cabinets and it charms him to see tiny figures and miniature buildings tucked into the fuzzy winter wonderland. Mismatched bowls of ingredients line the counter, and deep red liquid smelling strongly of spice is steaming on the stove. It smells heavenly. It’s the same scent he normally loathes, the artificial scent burning his nose and giving him headaches, one of the few pains that he can experience. But there is nothing faked or imitated here and the rich smell makes his head swim pleasantly. His mouth waters and his jaw aches at the sweet spicy deliciousness in the air. It’s lovely and warm and you immediately shake off the shiver as you enter.

He blinks back sudden tears at the sight of a brightly lit tree twinkling merrily in the corner of the living room, a yule log crackling on the television. It’s perfect. Your tiny crumbling apartment that he would have scoffed at in any other time, is suddenly finer than any palace. His chest tightens almost painfully.

“It’s not much but I did my best to make it festive! The cookie dough is chilling in the fridge and there is as much eggnog and mulled wine as you could want. Help yourself.” You nod at the pot on the stove, hands on your hips, looking as confident as he’s ever seen you now that you’re in your domain. It’s not normally the response he gets when someone sees him in their home. He takes a brief scan of your fridge.

“Just milk for me, thank you.” He responds and you shrug and take a glass out of the cabinet. You fill it up full and hand it over. He takes a big chug. 2%

Perfect

“Well, I’m gonna have myself some mulled wine.” You grab another glass and fill yourself up a healthy serving. A tiny sip has you sighing deeply in pleasure and he wants nothing more than to lick the remnants off your lips. Your temperature is rising by the second and when he’s satisfied that you’re sufficiently warmed he relaxes a bit, wandering around your kitchen to look at everything.

You busy yourself taking a large bowl of dough out of the fridge and lining the counter and a baking sheet with parchment paper and a light dusting of flour. He’s distracted looking through all your cabinets. Nothing of yours is very fancy and it’s all a bit mismatched which he finds charming in a quaint kind of way. He rifles through your dish towels, smelling them to see if your scent still lingers. Then you tap him on the shoulder. He turns to find you with your head cocked and your arms wrapped around a large bowl, eyes shining and bright

“I promised gingerbread but first you have to help.” You wink at his baffled expression before turning around to begin scooping out the dough onto the parchment paper. “And take off your gloves! This stuff can get sticky.”

He’s still standing there frozen when you hand him a rolling pin. He frowns at it disdainfully before raising a skeptical eyebrow. This is so…beneath him.

“C’mon, let your inner kid out a little. I promise it tastes better when you’ve helped make it.” You shake the rolling pin at him.

Inner kid

You don’t have a single fucking clue.

He grumpily removes his gloves. He feels naked without them. He feels so raw, the Christmas cheer welcome but also a painful reminder of everything he was denied. He wants to be here but he feels unsure how to exist in a space when there are no expectations, no predetermined role he can play. Shedding the gloves feels like shedding a layer of skin but he can’t deny you when you look at him like that. You’re still wearing his cape around his shoulders and a sharp possessive pang runs through him.

His

He reaches out to grab the rolling pin.

“Normally people avoid giving me heavy blunt objects” He remarks dryly, although he quickly regrets it. It doesn’t seem to phase you though. You’ve heard the stories.

“You are a heavy blunt object capable of plenty of damage so I don’t think handing you a rolling pin is going to make much difference. Now get to work while I preheat the oven” You reach out to gently push him towards the dough.

He stares at it, frozen.

The dings from the oven ring in his ears.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what to do. The mechanics of a rolling pin are not difficult to fucking grasp. It’s just…none of this feels real. It feels like he’s still back in this lab and this is some cruel dream that will fade away into empty white. It’s like making one wrong move will shatter everything

He can’t lose this.

“Here! The recipe says ⅛ of an inch so you’ll need to roll it like this.” Your breath is hot on his ear as you lean in behind him.

Your hands rest tenderly on top of his as you gently guide him.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Your touch burns and a ravenous monster wakes in his chest. It howls and wails against the prison of his ribcage. He can smell you, hear your heart racing, practically taste the heavy scent of your soaking cunt into the air. The wood creaks under his grip as your thumb brushes against his. His cock is hard and leaking into the tight spandex of his pants. The ribbon on his hip is like a brand; like your hands are on him there too.

Fuck the cookies

The throb of his cock urges him to devour your brown sugar pussy instead.

But as strong as the sudden rush of his arousal, it pales in comparison to the prickling sting of tears at such a kind touch. The last person to touch him like this was…

Fake

Just like everything else

Except you

Except this.

A quiet sob escapes him but if you notice then you don’t acknowledge it. You just keep pushing your palms against his hands in a steady rhythm, the dough easily giving way. Your body rocks against his and the softness of you warms him to the core. He sees the flutter of his own cape out of the corner of his eye.

His

You’re his.

The whole world narrows down to only the two of you.

He could stay here forever with you. Life with you could be like Christmas for eternity. He’d never be alone. You’d never be alone. Just gingerbread scented air and mulled wine, and your body pressed to his forever.

“Alrighty! That just about does it. We just need to get out the cookie cutters and we’ll be good to go.” You pull back.

Something inside him snaps and he turns and grabs your shoulder, tugging you into him. You blink owlishly at him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He reaches out to caress your cheek, relishing the warmth against his bare hand. You lay your hand over his although you make no move to pull away.

“I…” His breath catches.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask breathlessly

You don’t wait for an answer before shyly pressing your lips to his. It lasts barely a second before you're pulling back with a smug little smile. You point up and he barks out an incredulous laugh.

Mistletoe

A sprig of fucking mistletoe is attached to the ceiling.

“I thought you always spent Christmas alone.” He remarks, lips still burning. He’s dreaming. He’s…this can’t be real.

You chuckle.

“I’m not alone this year.” You respond before giving him another sweet kiss that he eagerly returns.

You taste exactly like brown sugar.

He giggles into the press of your lips

Merry fucking Christmas.

#homelander #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander headcanons #merry christmas to all who celebrate!!!!#baker verse

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sinfulwrites · 4 months

Text

Their Favorite Sex Positions

Hello hello~ I was scrolling my dash and came across @missjellyhead and her post on the same topic and wanted to write my own with my faves... Give their post some love! I messaged them for permission, but I'm not sure if they're active lately....

I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing again. Please accept this small drabble!

Enjoy!

NSFW warning.

Michael Myers: Michael is prone to having sex wherever he is. Why waste time going to the bedroom when he could fuck you now against the wall? Michael can hold you up effortlessly, so if your legs are getting tired, he will simply scoop up your legs and continue fucking you. If a table is nearby, Michael will bend you over it and fuck you from behind. If there’s anything on those tables, they will be rocked off by the strength of his hips. If you are in bed, though, he is still inclined to fuck you from behind. He feels more comfortable taking his mask off and biting on your shoulders when you can’t see his face.

Jason Voorhees: Sex is a sacred thing to Jason. His beliefs are rather traditional, and as such, his preference is missionary. In the bed, in a dark room where he can be comfortable taking his mask off and lavishing you with kisses. Jason is not opposed to other positions, but his go-to will always be missionary. In his mind, doggy style is the dirtiest.

Thomas Hewitt: Thomas was raised in a traditional home. He was taught that sex was purely for making a baby, and it would be done in missionary under the blankets. Meeting you and starting a sexual relationship had changed his views on the matter, but he is still inclined to fuck you in missionary. He loves the closeness, seeing the faces you made in response to what he did to you, and of course being able to kiss you. In the early mornings before his work, Thomas liked to pull you close against him and have some slow morning sex. Spooning you allows him to keep you even closer than missionary can, and allows him to have a shameless grab at your chest. There has also been more than one occasion of you two being outside the home getting in a quickie in Thomas’s lap. Riding him is a treat to him, as he has an obligation to himself to make you feel good. Knowing you want him to feel good gets him all emotional afterwards. Expect a tight hug and tons of kisses.

Asa Emory: When Asa fucks, he fucks hard. If the bed isn’t slamming into the wall, he’s not doing it right. Doggy style gives him the freedom to pound into you without your hips and thighs restricting him. His preference for anal also makes it even more appealing. Doing it from behind also gives him the freedom to slap your ass and yank your hair back to whisper in your ear about how much of a slut you are. Watching your face as he fucks you is also ideal, however, so if he fucks you from the front he shoves your knees into your chest to give himself complete access to slam his hips into you. He will use rope to tie your legs where he wants them so he can leave his hands free to choke you as his cock knocks the wind out of you. We would be here all day if we brought up all his bonds and sex chairs…

Jesse Cromeans: Jesse loves to see the faces you make as his cock slides in and out of you. He especially loves to make you see yourself with his mask. Spreading your legs and fucking you on your back is a safe position for him, but it is far from the only way he enjoys you. His favorite is fucking you in front of his giant mirrors. Jesse will bend you over on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind so he can pull your hair and make you watch in the mirror as his hips slam against your ass. He shamelessly enjoys being ridden and will happily prop himself up on his pillows and let you ride away. He loves to film you riding his cock, and he will definitely have you watch the tape with him later. Other days, he will have you ride in reverse to watch it in his mirrors. In the back of his car, he loves to make you ride him until the car is rocking.

#slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhes x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #asa emory x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #god I can't stop obsessing over Asa and Jesse #I need to write more stuff for them #Thomas has been creeping back in lately though #hnnng big men #and my precious Jason as always #I will always have a soft spot for Jason #Michael is my og #No Sinclairs this time because I'm too obsessed with other characters atm.

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ultralightpoe · 4 months

Text

Full House ll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Went from cute fluff to straight angst. Sorry?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (not Eddie and reader though), angst angst angst. A fight.

Word count: 10,009 (ohhhhhh boy)

Part l HERE

(THANK YOU FOR THE GIF @feodor-dostoevsky)

(Warning. This chapter contains hints of domestic violence and if any of my readers are going through that you deserve better. I love you all, also Motley will be showing signs of abuse this chapter. It's a long chapter that I'm really nervous about and I really hope you guys like it <3)

Enjoy!

Eddie had been in a pissy mood on Halloween morning of his second year as a senior, mostly because his friends that had graduated last year were all going out to awesome college parties and he was stuck redoing school. Embarrassed and alone.

But he sucked it up, wearing his favorite leather jean combo as he walked into the halls of hell, keeping his head down while people passed by him in a flurry, excitement and laughter in the air.

He had planned to just keep his head down and make it to class, no need to get into something with Harrington and his cronies. He had enough of their teasing and bullshit to get him by for the rest of the year.

Normally it was fine since he had friends, but now he was alone.

A body slamming into a locker pulls his attention to where someone in a rustic leather jacket was slamming one of the juniors into the wall of metal. The kid being assaulted was called Jeff, he was the only black kid in the grade and Eddie had seen him around a lot. The kid didn’t hang out with anyone and seemed lonely.

Shit.

The one slamming him was Billy Hargrove, a new kid that seemed to immediately become one of the cool ones. He spent most his classes not caring and any free time harassing everyone else. Eddie had his fair share of issues with him already.

It would be a good idea to just walk away and let them handle this on their own, but Eddie could not do that. If there was one thing his dad taught him it was that he could take a punch and his Uncle Wayne always told him that you should always stand up for the weaker man. Even if Eddie wasn’t strong enough to beat Billy “steroids” Hargrove, he was strong enough to take a hit for someone else.

A sigh falls through him as he makes his way over, tapping the shoulder of the assailant quickly, the second Billy has his eyes on him Eddie shoves him quickly.

Billy reacts in an instant, hands clenching into his jacket, swinging Eddie around until it was his back being slammed into the lockers. A grunt passes his lips as he sends Jeff a quick look to escape while he can, the kid gives him a grateful smile as he snatches his backpack and dashes off.

“If it isn’t the super senior!” Billy laughs bitterly, pulling Eddie forward and shoving him back into the lockers harshly.

Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

“What you doing here bud?! Trying to get your ass-“ Eddie loses some of his patience after the third hit into the lockers and hits Billy’s hands off of him, shoving him back enough that Billy nearly trips over his feet.

Gasps fall from the crowd as Billy glares, staring wide eyed at him as he sneers. Eddie tries to play it cool, the anticipation of a fight howling beneath his skin as he preps himself.

Before they can get into it Steve Harrington pops up, his back to Eddie as he watches Billy. “Not that I don't want to see how the freak handles business but the principal is on the way.”

Billy casts one more glare, walking off quickly as Harrington turns to Eddie.

“You stupid or some-“

“Yeah yeah. We get it Harrington. I’m a repeat senior.” Eddie snaps, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the pain. “Why don’t you find a new joke?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you were good.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before moving to pick up what Eddie had dropped.

“I don’t need help from you.” Eddie snaps, snatching the lunch box he had gotten from Uncle Wayne and walking off quickly.

Eddie had spent the better part of that year dealing with Hargroves shit, the only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Steve Harrington seemed to be having his own issues with Billy. Then the summer between his second senior year and his third Billy Hargrove died.

Eddie had avoided the pool that entire summer but he heard about it from Jeff the day the mall caught on fire. The next thing he knew Max was moving into the trailer near his and Wayne’s and everyone was bothering her and her mother about it all but they seemed like they didn’t want to talk about it.

After he dealt with VECNA they all explained a little about what happened, and when El closed the gates and fixed the time warp she ended up bringing a couple people back. That’s how he came back.

No one had seen Billy, so everyone assumed he didn’t come back. Even Barb had shown back up (though her memory was hazy on everything).

Now, Billy Hargrove stood in the doorway of his home, catching Motley when she ran to him with an easy smile. “There’s my baby!”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, stuck between anger and shock, watching this play out before him as Ziggy grabs at his jaw. The little toddler leans to kiss his cheek, a wet open mouth kiss that normally makes Eddie laugh, but this time he just stands there. Waiting for the “just kidding!” Or someone to pinch him so he can wake up.

“Sugar,” Billy starts, keeping Motley in his arms as he stares at Eddie. It takes him a moment to realize that when he says sugar he is talking to you. “Why is there a drug dealer holding my daughter?”

“I can explain-“ you start, watching Eddie angrily set up the crib in your shared room, jaw tensed and eyes heavy with anger. “Eds please.”

“You don’t need to explain.” He snaps, turning quickly. “No actually. You do. What the fuck?”

“I met him a couple years back. Okay? It was a one night stand from a bar, he was new in town and I ended up getting pregnant. After that he said he wanted to stay together because of the baby and I didn’t want to parent alone so I said yes-“

“So you’d rather have parented with a racist jackass then?” He laughs bitterly. You draw back, eyes wide as he does so before he sees you get defensive.

“I didn’t know about any of that. Okay? He was sweet with me for the most part-“

“For the most part?”

“He had moments of anger, sometimes I got hit. But he always made up for it. And then I got pregnant again and I thought I was happy and then….” You trail off then, shaking a bit. “I left for a reason.”

“He hit you? More than once?” Eddie bites out, hands on his hips.

“It was fine-“

“No no no. It wasn’t fine. But the fact that you’re saying it was fine and you say he made up for it means that you didn’t leave because he hit you, you left for another reason.” He sees you get nervous under his gaze and he knows he’s figuring out. Anger coursed through him at the fact that Billy had ever laid a hand on you in the first place but it’s beginning to reach tenfold when he puts the pieces together. “He hit Motley?”

“I-“

“You were okay with him hitting you, which makes me upset that you thought you deserved that, but the second he hit Motley you ran.” He fills in the blanks, watching as you crumble before his eyes with tears falling freely.

“Ohmygod-“ you sob, covering your eyes.

“And that’s why you’re so weird around Max because when you came out here you recognized her, right? And when we all shared the truth of what happened you recognized Billy in it? And you didn’t say anything because-“

“What was I supposed to say Eddie?! That I was dumb enough to fall for it?! That I slept with a racist abusive asshole one night drunk and then agreed to let him move in with me because I was scared even though I knew nothing about him?!” You snap, tears streaming down your face. “You guys would have thought the worst of me. You guys are going to think the worst of me- maybe I should just grab the girls and go get a hotel-“

“Hey hey hey.” He eases, reaching for you as you stand up to leave. His hands find your hips and he pulls you in for a hug. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry-“

“I’m sorry. I’m over reacting and being a pain in the ass because I’m surprised is all.” He mumbles, kissing your head and keeping his nose pressed into your hair. “You are very brave for leaving him, yeah? And I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, you’re not stupid you were just played. You always think the best of people and you are so fucking brave for getting the girls out of there.”

He lets you sob into his chest for a minute, rubbing your back in comfort as he holds you to him tightly.

Eddie was gonna figure this out. He was gonna find a way to get Billy Hargrove out of his life for good.

The morning was always filled with excitement, mostly on Motley's part. She loved getting ready for the day, for all the things she would do. She loved talking yours and Eddie’s ear off about the plans for the day. Then she would be crankier when she got home and she knew it was time for bed, but Eddie loved her in the mornings because he loved seeing her excitement.

He wore his glasses in the morning, while he helped get them ready for the day since you both liked to tag team the morning and get the process done faster. This morning was his turn for Motley, who currently sat at the table blabbering on about how she was excited for secret santa while Eddie sat at the stove watching the pancakes bubble.

“-and I keep thinking what if Vinny gets me? He will probably get me the dumbest thing ever and I would be so upset. But what if Troy gets me, oh I hope Troy gets my name- Daddy are you listening?”

“I’m listening, pretty girl.” He smiles, looking over her shoulder where she sat coloring. “You hope Troy gets you. Cause you have a big ole crush on him.”

“DO NOT!” She yells which makes him laugh and turn back to the pancakes. Before he knows it he feels a pair of arms wrap around him, with you kissing along his exposed back slowly while ge fights off the blush.

“You cooking bacon without a shirt, handsome?” You smile and he tries not to laugh.

“I can’t feel half the skin on my stomach anyways.” The scars made sure of that. “You want a piece of bacon?”

“I’ll wait to eat with you and the girls. Did we get any yogurt on our last trip to the store?” You ask, moving to the fridge to check. Eddie takes a moment to admire you before looking to where Ziggy sits in her high chair, playing with a piece of paper that Motley gave her.

“Morning metal head.” He coos, walking forward to kiss her head. She giggles and claps before Motley follows what Eddie did, kissing her sisters head.

“Come here Daddy.” She smiles, and he bends down to let her kiss his forehead which makes her laugh.

He sets them both up with plates, eating breakfast quickly before rushing to get a shirt on as you bring them both to the door to get them in shoes. When he gets back he finds Motley with her arms crossed and shaking her head.

“What’s going on?”

“She found out Steve is taking her to school.” You sigh, trying to grab her foot.

“I want Papa to take me. He said he wanted to!” She snaps and Eddie watches you tense up, choosing to intervene here.

“I got this, go grab her bag.” He smiles, switching spots with you. “Alright. No playing around. Metalheads put their shoes on when told.”

“But daddy-“

“Ah.” He holds up a finger and she sighs before grabbing the left shoe and moving to put it on her right. “Wait. This is a good time to teach you left from right.”

“I’ve got time.” She smiles , watching him.

“Alright. This is left,” he holds out his left hand, the metal bracelet he always wears drawing Ziggys attention as she waddles closer.

Motley holds out her right hand, repeating “left.”

“No. That’s right.”

“I’m right?”

“No. That hand is right.”

“Yeah daddy. I know I’m right.” She scoffs, staring at him like he’s insane.

“No pretty girl. You’re opposite of me, like a mirror. So if this is my left hand you’re left hand would be….” He picks up her left hand, wiggling it a bit.

“Oh. So this would be my right hand.” She mumbles, shaking her right hand.

“Exactly. So if this is your left shoe it would go on…..”

“MY LEFT FOOT!” She yells excitedly which makes him smile.

“You got it! You rockstar!” He helps her tie it, letting her rest her foot on his thigh before switching the feet and tying the next shoe.

“We ready to go?” You ask, coming around the corner and smiling.

“Daddy taught me my left from right, Mommy!” She giggles, rushing to get her bag and holding your hand as you lead her out of the house with Eddie close behind, Ziggy in his arms trying to reach for the bandana on his head.

“Hey Uncle Steve,” she calls, running up to him to hug him. “I know my left from right!”

“You’re a genius kid!” He smiles. You pull her attention, kissing her forehead before kissing Steve’s cheek. Eddie follows, kissing Motley then snatching Steve and kissing his cheek which makes everyone laugh. Ziggy coos the second she sees Steve and he instantly makes grabby hands at her.

“There she is, my pretty little angel.” He coos, bouncing her up and down as Motley climbs in his car between his two sons. Vinny glares while Jackson waves his grubby little hands. The kid was four and thought the best thing to eat was a crayon.

“You know what gender the baby is yet?” You ask, watching Steve with Ziggy.

“No. But Nancy is sure it’s another boy.” He sighs out. “And she wants to name one after her brother.”

“Do we need another Mike?” Eddie laughs which makes Steve laugh as well.

“That’s what I said!”

“Alright, I have to head off. Drop Ziggy off at daycare before work. Have a wonderful day boys.” You smile, grabbing Ziggy from Steve who sighs in disappointment, before kissing Eddie and heading off to your car.

Steve turns to Eddie, a raised brow, he opens his mouth to start asking but Eddie holds up a hand. “Nuh uh. We don’t talk about within hearing age of Motley.”

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, squinting. “She get upset?”

“The opposite.”

“But the guys a massive dick!”

“And that’s her dad.”

“You’re her dad.”

“No, I’m the step dad.” Eddie sighs, something clenching in his gut. “I gotta get going. Thanks for dropping Motty off.”

The thought that he was just the step dad stuck, it clung to him like a second skin, sticking like a shadow over the sun. He thought about it while he tucked the girls in, and when he woke them up. He worried over the thought of Billy fighting for custody and turning the girls against Eddie.

He was just the step-dad.

This is what he was thinking about as he changed the oil on one of the cars in the shop, a frown stuck to his face as music played in the background. It was Dylans, the other repairman that worked today, turn for the stereo and he was playing all the rock hits. Which included ‘rock you like a hurricane.’

And all Eddie could imagine was his girls having a dance party but instead of him being there it was Billy. Billy dancing with them to all the music and-

“HI DADDY!” Motley shouts, making Eddie gasp in shock, whipping his head to find her on all fours so she could see him under the car.

“Hi pretty girl.” He smiles, using the cart to roll out from under the car and sit up, whipping the bandana off his hair as she whirls around the car to attack him, roaring like a tiger as she jumps on him. “What are you doing here?”

“School let out early today, they have their christmas party tomorrow and then winter break.” You explain, walking around the car with Ziggy on your hip, still wearing the cute diner uniform. “Motley wanted to come grab you for lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, laughing when she slips a bit and he has to catch her before she hits the floor. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?!” He acts shocked, eyes wide as she begins laughing. “Well I don’t know about that…. I don’t really know if I like pizza.”

“You LOVE pizza.” She scoffs, jumping up and dashing to the radio to turn it down. “Does Dylan want pizza?”

“Why thank you for asking little lady.” Dylan smiles, wiping his hands on his suit. “I love pizza.”

“Hear that daddy? We have to go get pizza for Dylan.” Motley sasses, coming back over to snatch Eddie’s bigger hand between her own. “Get uppppp!”

She groans as she tries to lift him, and Eddie picks himself up so she thinks she was able to do it. “Jesus you are strong.”

“I pulled a secret santa today, and you’ll never guess who I got!”

“Troy?”

“No.” She sighs, disappointed for just a moment before her face lights up again. “I got Samantha, she likes jump rope.”

“Yeah? Is that what we are gonna get her then?” He chuckles, moving to wash his hands as you go and put Ziggy in the car.

“Well I don’t know. I don’t want my gift to be too basic and not surprising. But I want to make sure she actually likes it. And do you think-” Eddie lets her ramble, grabbing her hand and leading her to the car as she goes on and on about the ideas she has for gifts.

The store was busy when Eddie took Motley Christmas shopping, holding her hand in his own as walked across the street and headed into the warmth. He had been more focused on making sure she wore a coat then grabbing a coat heavy enough for himself.

The second she is in the store her eyes widen and she makes a mad dash to the kids aisle, Eddie right behind her trying to slow her down a bit.

“Alright, take a look and see what you might like to get Samantha.” He huffs, breathing into his palms to warm up his face, ignoring the weird look he gets from a do-good mom passing by in her expensive shoes.

He had gotten used to the looks by now, it’s not like he screamed father with his leather jacket and tattoos, but you always told him that he was a better father than any country club dad you had ever met. And he was constantly lecturing Motley that ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’ so how would this be different?

“How about this?” She asks, picking up a barbie car that makes Eddie’s eyes go wide.

“Isn’t there a price limit on this thing?” He blurts, moving to check before she is completely gone and looking at something else.

“Can I get a dollhouse?”

“For Samantha?”

“No, for me silly..” She laughs, like it was the most obvious thing.

“We are supposed to be shopping for your secret santa cheeseball.”

“Oh, right.” She sighs, moving back to the barbies. “How about for christmas?”

“Have you asked Santa?” Eddie smiles, and she shakes her head. “We’ll write a letter tonight, then.”

“Okay.” She giggles before pointing to a ken doll. “Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Santa already answered my wish this year.” She mumbles which makes Eddie look at her curiously. “Last year I asked Santa to bring my dad back. And he did even better.”

Eddie’s heart practically shatters as he tries to smile at her, the vast empty feeling at her words killing him. Of course, what little girl didn’t want her dad on christmas, and she wanted Billy.

Steve was suspicious of him the entire Christmas party, giving Eddie the side eye every chance he could while you sat not far off with Nancy gossiping amongst yourselves.

Steve was room mother, and as much as Eddie made fun of him for it his friend was an amazing room mother. He had thrown the class’ holiday party at his house rather than that stuffy classroom so that the parents could come as well. His house, which was already insanely decorated for Christmas, had tons of ‘activity stations’ for the kids to do. Motley and Vinny were currently arguing over what color gumdrops they wanted to put on their gingerbread house.

Charles, Samantha's dad as Eddie found out, had wavered off after talking to Steve and himself for the past hour and finally the two men were left alone. “Who knew parenthood would be just like highschool again?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve snickers. “I feel like-”

“King Steve again?” Eddie taunts, shaking his head.

“Oh no no. You can’t make fun of me since you’re apart of the cool kid club this round.”

“No I’m not-”

“Oh yes you are. Please, everyone talks about you and Y/n. One, all the moms think you are attractive and so gentleman like for taking on the girls. Two. The dads are jealous of you cause you have this cool rock thing going on while still being a parent. Three, everyone loves Motley. She is the class princess. Everyone wants to play with her at christmas, if she shows up to their birthday party then their year is made. Admit it Munson, you’re raising a prom queen.”

“I don’t think I have much to do on that front, and it’s more to do with I’m your friend and you are the Room Mom.”

“Shh not so loud.” Steve mutters. “Nancy has been feeling a little guilty about being ‘less of a mom’ cause she spends all day at work. I tried telling her it was fine but she thinks it’s a bad look that her husband is room mom and not the actual mom.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad look. I think it shows that Vinny is being raised by two people who understand life a little better than other stuck up parents.”

“Thanks pal.” Steve sighs, leading them away so Eddie can go up and check on where they put Ziggy to nap. Steve had been nice enough to set up a little crib in his room so she wouldn’t have to be dragged around the party.

They catch up on everything, Steve complains that he think Jaxon might just be a freaky kid considering the amount of crayons and pencils he eats and how Nancy babies him. He complains that Mike is the worst uncle and never actually helps but always claims to do so.

Eddie catches Steve up on the Billy situation, which had shocked the group to no end.

“He’s been calling everyday, arguing that he should get visitation.” Eddie sighs, taking a swig from the beer Steve smuggled for them.

“That’s bullshit. Tell him no.”

“Y/n is worried that he could fight and get full custody.”

“Why on earth-”

“Because she took the girls and ran. She did it for their safety but the court will never look at it like that.” Eddie sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “All they will see is Hawkins very own mall hero being abandoned as she runs to Hawkins very own freak.”

“Motley and Y/n don’t think of you as a freak.”

“Maybe not. But Motley adores Billy, and that leaves me on the sidelines.”

“That’s not fair.” Steve sighs but Eddie shrugs.

“You know how long I hated Wayne for taking me from my dad? That man hit me and all I did for years was look up to him and try to be better. I pushed away anyone that actually cared. I know what she is going through right now, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that love she has for her dad. Shit person or not.”

“Would you rather ruin her dad for her or have her heart broken when she is exposed to him on her own?”

“I think if he ever hurt her I would actually-”

“Kill him. I’m so in.” Steve finishes the sentence before there is a quick knock on the door.

“Dad!” Vinny whines. “Where’s the gift?! We are doing secret santa!”

Steve sighs, moving to his dresser to grab the wrapped gift before handing it to his son. Eddie waits to follow Vinny, surprised when he turns to him rather than immediately running away.

“Will Motley like this wrapping paper?”

“Yeah? I think she’d love it.” Eddie smiles, watching in shock as the kids dashes out. “He got Motley? Bet he hated that.”

“Nah, he was worried she might now like the barbie car.”

“Wasn’t there a price limit on this thing?” Eddie asks, raising a brow.

“My kid is head over heels for your daughter Munson. Just be happy Troy didn’t get her. Little punk thinks he’s everything.” Steve scoffs, walking past Eddie and mumbling under his breath about Troy being a little shit.

There was a new form of hell to Eddie, not having his girls under the same roof was that hell. After a very long argument it was agreed that Billy would get them for the night, they would have a fun time at the shitty motel room.

So, after a long night of pacing back and forth, Billy finally dropped the girls off around noon, smoking easily as he carried Ziggy’s car seat in one hand.

“Really? Right by her?” Eddie snaps, grabbing the handle carefully as Ziggy coos up at him.

“Didn’t think you would be one to care, Munson.” Billy laughs, looking past him to where Motley stood with a grumpy look and her bag around her shoulder. “You used to make sure our class was coked out just fine.”

“Motty go inside.” Eddie sighs, moving to open the door for her, getting a little nervous when she glares and stomps in. “Has she eaten?”

Only when he turns back to ask Billy the jackass is already halfway in his car, sending a cocky smile in Eddie’s direction as he turns the speaker up loud.

Now left alone with the two girls since you were at work Eddie shuffles inside to go find where Motley stomped off to, finding her in her room sitting on the floor and playing with a toy he didn’t recognize.

“New barbie?” He smiles, watching her carefully. This was the first time she had ever gone with her dad and he didn't know what to expect, maybe he had been hoping for a hug or kiss. “She’s very pretty-”

“Papa got her for me.” She bites out, voice dripping with attitude.

“Okay. You hungry? I can make you-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screams, rushing to slam her door in his face, the tiffany poster she had on it staring back at him as he blinks in shock. There had been fits, a couple of screaming fits, she sometimes called him meanie head when he told her not to do something. But she had never before slammed a door in his face.

Not really knowing what to do he decided to focus on bathing Ziggy first, making sure the smoke scent didn’t cling to her before setting her up to eat something.

A couple hours later you came home, a nervous smile on your face as you looked at him only to realize he was upset.

“What happened?”

“She’s upset, won’t come out of her room.” He sighs.

“Let me go check on her.” You mumble, kissing him before heading to her room and knocking softly. “Hey bugs? Why don’t you come out and say hi? Daddy can make something for dinner-“

“Eddie can fuck off!” She screams, which makes you freeze as Eddie’s heart drops and he leans his forehead on the wall.

“Motley Marie-“

“NO!” She screams from the other side of the door and Eddie feels like he might throw up.

“Maybe I should go to Wayne’s tonight?” He offers, shaking a bit as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I need to help him fix the replace his fridge anyways”

“Eds, no.” You mumble, tears welling up in your eyes as you shuffle closer. “She’ll be fine in a bit. We just need to get her to eat and-“

“She’s not gonna come out to eat if I’m here. I’ll come back tomorrow to see if she’s feeling better. Okay?” He tries, rubbing your arms in a comforting manner. “Just one night, maybe she will eat and calm down”

You shake your head, crying, but you both already know the answer. And Eddie already knows this might not work out for him.

After packing an overnight bag and heading off he makes it to his Uncle Wayne’s and spends the night there, hoping Motley would feel better if he wasn’t there.

He helps Wayne sort out the kitchen, both of them planning on switching the fridges out in the morning now that his is empty. So, later in the night, Eddie lays on the couch staring at the ceiling.

He couldn’t fall asleep without you beside him and he’s used to seeing the hall light under the door so the girls could see if they needed to get to the bathroom or your room.

He tossed and turned, doing his best not to get too upset at all of it before he began thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

He never wanted to hurt the girls, and as much as he loved them and loved you there was always that thing about “if you love someone set them free.” So, as much as he hated it, he figured maybe it was time for some breathing space. Let Motley learn about her biological dad for a bit, and he would take whatever he could get even if it was just a dinner a month. Anything to make sure she didn’t hate him forever.

So, around 6am, when he finally managed to close his eyes and get some sleep he had decided that the best plan of action was to give his girls breathing room.

When he woke up Wayne was already starting on the fridge, which made Eddie realize just how much he had slept in. Jumping up quickly to start helping, he didn’t think to call you.

They spent the next few hours moving the fridges and getting the new one set up, making sure everything was working before hauling the old one to the junkyard. By the time they were done the sun was going down and Eddie was starving so Wayne offered to order a pizza.

The only problem was your car was at the trailer when they got back, with you sitting on the hood smiling at him as Wayne pulled his truck up to park.

“Hi Grandpa Wayne.” You called which made the older man smile and hop out quickly to give you a kiss before moving to say hi to the girls in the back seat.

Eddie moves to hug you, kissing you deeply before you pull back and smile. “You didn’t call, and we called this morning but no answer so I figured you boys were busy.”

“Sorry. I slept a little late and we were fighting that damn fridge all day.” He smiles.

“We were thinking about going and getting dinner tonight, thought we’d come pick up daddy.” You offer, holding his hand. He casts a quick look to where Motley is sitting in the backseat, laughing as Wayne pretends to steal her book.

Breathing room.

“I actually got more stuff to help Wayne with. That okay?” He could see you visibly deplete, trying your best to keep smiling.

“Of course that’s okay. Just don’t forget to call okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You wanna say bye to the girls?”

“I….Not tonight.” He feels like he’s stabbed himself in the gut and twisted the knife, his throat tightening up with the urge to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mumble. “And you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Right.” He smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek. When you kiss him one last time you move to Wayne, tearing up a bit.

“Enjoy your handyman Wayne. But I expect him back tomorrow by dinner, got it grandpa?”

Wayne, to his credit, smiles politely and nods. Mumbling something about making Eddie work overtime as you laugh, he hears Ziggy blubber sadly, probably upset that she’s in her car seat.

He spots Motley when you open your door to get in, leaning against the window already staring at him. There is a glum look on her expression and Eddie feels that stab wound tighten. She hates him, she can’t even smile when she sees him anymore. Billy must have told her what a fuckimg freak he was.

Instead of crawling into the hole he wants to, he merely raises a hand slowly to wave, attempting to seem like everything was fine.

She raised her own hand, and Eddie thinks he’s mistaken when she presses it to the glass of the window as you drive off.

“You okay?” Wayne asks, rubbing his boys shoulder.

“Not really.”

True to his word Eddie calls the next morning, only to be surprised when he hears Motleys voice answer.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Hey Mot…ley.” Eddie panics , thinking that she might now like her nicknames now. “I called for your ma.”

“Oh.” She mumbles, obviously disappointed that it was him. “I can go get her……”

“Not if she’s busy, okay? I can call back later.” He hears her set the phone down and scamper off, feet hitting the hardwood of the kitchen as she rushes to find you. A couple minutes goes by and he hears both your voices trickle back into hearing distance, probably from the downstairs hallway.

“- dy Eddie. He just wanted to talk to you.” He hears Motley mumble, and that shooting pain was back. Eddie. She called him Eddie again.

Panic claws at him as he hears your footsteps get closer and he hangs up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes.

After helping Wayne around the trailer he returns that evening, feeling lame and tired. Kicking his shoes off in the doorway, hearing your music downstairs which tells him you had probably started reading once putting the girls to bed.

He planned to shower and then go see you, so he makes his way to the room, shucking his jacket off and tossing it on the bed in the dark.

“Heyyy.” Someone whines, making him stop and look to the bed to see Motley climbing out from the blankets and pillows, eyes wide. “Watch it.”

“Sorry kid,” he smiles, moving to grab the jacket. “Didn’t see ya there.”

She giggles softly, moving to the middle of the bed and turning on the light before going back to her spot. He gives her a soft smile before moving to grab clothes and heading to the master bathroom only for her to call out.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, turning with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry I was mean and hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I made you mad.” Tears well in her eyes as she says it which makes his chest clench.

“Hey hey. I’m not mad.” He says softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she immediately crawls over and crawls into his lap.

“You are! That’s why you didn’t want to come home!” She cries. “You hate me now.”

“No no. Take a breath.” He tries to calm her down, rubbing her back in soft circles as she sucks in a deep breath.

“I made you mad…”

“You didn’t make me mad, I just had to help Grandpa Wayne with some stuff. He’s old now. He needs help.” Eddie offers, still rubbing her back. She calms down a bit, face pressed into his chest as she slowly puts herself back to sleep.

He carries her into her own room, making sure she’s nice and comfortable when he tucks her in before going back to the master bedroom to shower.

When he comes back out he finds you waiting on the bed, a smile smile tugging st your lips. “Hey stud.”

“Hi baby,” he whispers, moving to lay down. He gives you one kiss before laying down and shoving his face into the pillow quickly, desperate to sleep.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask, rubbing a hand on his back.

“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine. Just wanted to give her space is all.” He sighs.

“She loves you Eddie.”

“I know.” He lies, closing his eyes to sleep

Motley spent the next day at the Harrington household while Eddie and you went to shop for some last minute gifts you hadn’t gotten at the beginning of the month.

With Christmas being only a week away now you were beginning to panic and Eddie was doing his best to ease your anxieties as you tried to think of what the girls would want.

“I think we got everything.” You sigh out when you make it to the car, Eddie pushing the cart filled to the brim with bags as he rubs your back. There was something off about you today and he felt guilty that he hadn’t come home until late last night.

“I think we did.” He moves away only to open the back of the van, beginning to pile all the bags in before he hears you gag and dash to the chunk of grass he parked near.

“Shit- “ he snaps, tripping over himself as he tries to get to you to hold your hair. “You okay? Nervous about Christmas?”

“Y-yeah…” you whine, rubbing the back of your hand under your nose to wipe the snot after you finish puking. “Over stressed myself is all.”

He sighs, helping you up and getting you set up in the van before moving to finish his original task.

He spends the rest of the day making sure you’re okay and wrapping the gifts. He tries to change his handwriting on the tags so Motley would think other people were signing them. Make her think she got a gift from Santa and the elves and one from Mrs. Claus before he took his coffee grounds and make a hoof print on the gift he had made from Rudolph.

He hides them all in the basements laundry room, moving to wake you up when he’s done.

Two days before Christmas Eve Motley and Ziggy go with Billy again, and Eddie makes himself scarce when they are dropped back off the next day, wanting to give Motley room to breathe in case she needs it.

He hides in the basement, keeping his headphones in as he practices guitar, hearing the echo of stomping around upstairs. She had come home in another mood, that much he had figured out by the sounds of her yelling when she came in.

The phone rings in the distance and Eddie ignores everything as he practices more riffs until your in front of him with a small smile. “That was Gareth. They wanted to rehearse? Asked if you could head over.”

“Oh?” He asks, standing up. The perfect excuse to give Motley some space without hurting anyone’s feelings had just arrived and he was gonna take it. “I’ll head over now.”

“Are you gonna be home for dinner?” You ask softly, face tense with worry and exhaustion.

“We’ll probably practice too late.” He sighs, kissing you before moving to walk away.

“Eds?” You call, making him look back at you as you stress. “Y-you’re okay…… right?”

“I’m okay.” He lies. Really he feels pathetic, useless, a lame ass excuse for a stepdad. ……he feels like his father.

She just needs space. He thinks to himself, smiling at you. But deep down he already knows it’s not working. He loves his girls but if they don’t love him back then he is just dragging them down.

And his heart breaks at the thought of the inevitable.

I don’t wanna say bye.

As he passes the hallway to pack clothes for the night he sees that the Tiffany poster on Motleys door had been ripped down the middle, and he risks a peek in to find it the missing piece wadded in the trash along with her fleetwood poster she got around thanksgiving.

Sighing in defeat he shuffles to grab his bag and head out.

The morning of Christmas Eve he wakes up to find that sometime in the night Motley had crawled into bed with you and Eddie, curled up between you two with tear streaks down her face.

Nightmares, nasty little things.

He kisses her cheek lightly before getting up to get ready for work. By the time he is putting on his boots he finds her yawning and sitting up.

“Are you leaving?”

“Only for a bit.” He tries to sound positive. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Swear it?” She asks, eyes wide.

“Triple swear it.” He smiles back, and something eases in him when a smile breaks out across her face, going from ear to ear.

So he leans to kiss her cheek, taking the good mood while he can before heading to work and coming back home by 5. Only to find Billy’s Camaro in the driveway when he does come home.

Walking into the house, tense and tired from the day, to find Billy sitting on the couch as you work in the kitchen. You send him a quick look and Eddie follows, rushing into the kitchen with you.

“He invited himself for dinner.” You whisper.

“Why?”

“Because Motley told me I couldn’t come for Christmas morning.” Billy snaps from the doorway, leaning on it like he owned the place. “Which is really fucking weird considering that I’m her dad. I should be able to see her on Christmas. And I can only assume that you’re the one saying no Munson.”

“Hadn’t even known that we had that discussion but sure. I’ll take the hit.” Eddie smiles. “Cause you are 1000% banned from this house on Christmas Day.”

“You can’t separate me from my kids.” Billy snaps.

“We’re not. You can have dinner with us tonight, but you can’t be here tomorrow.” There were far too many people coming tomorrow that Eddie did not want having to deal with Billy, and he didn’t want your day being ruined by this asshat.

“I’d prefer the dinner to be a family occasion” Billy snipes. “And last I checked you weren’t.”

“Eddie is family.” You snipe back, backing up when Billy glared at you. “This is our home. His home. He stays.”

And before he knew it everyone was seated at the table, in the most uncomfortable dinner of his life. You were just pushing food around your plate, while Eddie was doing his best to stay cool.

“How are your grades Motley?” Billy asks, turning a heavy look to her.

“I’m one of the top in my class-“

“One of?” Billy interrupts.

“They have top three. They all tie in that spot so the kids don’t lose self esteem in the competition.” Eddie explains, tapping a ring on the table in annoyance.

“That’s bullshit. If her grades are the best then that needs to be said-“

“She’s doing fine. Her grades will help win a pizza party at the end of the year.” You snap, rubbing her cheek.

“I just want to make sure I’m not raising a retard that turns into a super senior.”

“What’s that mean?” Motley asks, wide eyed as Ziggy shoves some spaghetti in her mouth.

“Oh baby, it’s noth-“ you begin but Eddie cuts you off, looking her gently.

“It means I wasn’t good in school. I got held back from graduating for three years. That’s right. I was held back another year after you…. Well you know.”

“You got something to say to me, jackass?”

“Not really.” Eddie snipes, picking up his plate and heading to the kitchen before he loses his temper. Lucky him that Billy was set to follow.

“So this is where Motley gets all that attitude huh?! Some shit for brain pathetic piece of shit starts raising my daughter, showing her shit music and telling her the world is all rainbows and sunshine. Right?!”

“We’ll she’s 7. The world is supposed to be a little brighter-“ Eddie starts, watching as Billy grabs the front of his jacket and shoves him into the cabinets behind him.

“You think you’re something, huh?! Well you’re nothing more than a trailer trash piece of shit!” Billy yells in his face, and Eddie remains bland. Not letting any motion on his face as he shrugs.

Motley was going to hate him.

This would never work because your kids needed to come first, and Eddie knew that. He would always put them first. If he stayed with you Motley would soon begin to resent you.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“No. I don’t think I’m anything more than a piece of shit. I’m quite good in that life.” He shrugs. “And it’s not shit music that she was listening to, it was her choice of music. Music she liked, and if she likes it then it’s not shit.”

Billy laughs bitterly, then Eddie can do nothing but watch his hand pull back into a fist, getting him right in the face.

Pain shoots through his face as his head hits the cupboard behind him hearing the wood crack at the impact. Motley screams out loud “DADDY!” And Eddie assumes she’s screaming for Billy to stop.

He didn’t want to hit her dad in front of her, so he took it. Punch after punch from Billy before you jump on the man’s back, hitting him to get him off Eddie.

Billy pushes you off quickly, making you tumble to the floor as Motley runs for you before you try and ease her back. Eddie can’t feel his face but he knows it’s swollen and bloody, spitting out the taste of iron as he swipes a hand under his nose, pain shooting through him when he does so.

Motley is still screaming, over and over “DADDY DADDY!” And when Billy takes one aggressive step over to where she is in your arms Eddie finally loses it.

He shoves at Billy’s back, drawing his attention back and taking one quick swing across Billy’s cheek. One of his rings slices his cheek as Billy’s head whips to the side. But Eddie doesn’t stop, too built up on protective rage.

Ziggy is screaming in the background, Motley crying for her dad while you hold her back. Eddie takes a couple more hits, pushing Billy to the door so they wouldn’t have an audience. Only problem is the second Eddie pushes Billy out he finds a cop car already waiting, the cop hopping out and rushing to the scene.

Christmas morning was spent inside a jail cell with a broken nose, Eddie laying on one of the benches staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about how much his face hurt right now.

One of the neighbors had heard yelling and called the cops, who had taken 15 minutes to respond. And since Eddie didn’t start hitting back until the end he could only assume that meant he had taken nearly 15 minutes of that beating.

What a fucking coward.

He had hit Billy in front of Motley. Oh my god her entire Christmas would be ruined right now. He was an absolute piece of shit.

“Hey kid?” Someone calls, making Eddie try to open his unswollen eye and see. Hopper stood there in mundane clothes, sighing in disappointment. “Thought we agreed last time I arrested you that it would be the last time.”

“What can I say?” He croaks out, dropping his head again. “I’m trailer trash. Always have been and always will be.”

“Come on pity party.” Hopper sighs, unlocking the door. “You’ve been cleared. Witness statements.”

So they had questioned you. Fuck.

When he grabs his rings and jacket from the clerk he doesn’t bother putting them on, keeping everything in the bag including his chain and wallet. He puts the shoes on, groaning in pain when he bends over, before moving to see that Wayne had come to pick him up.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie grunts, not bothering to smile due to the cut on his lip and cheek.

Wayne doesn’t say anything, merely leads Eddie out, keeping a hand on his arm to help lead him to the car since he can only open one eye.

When they are both jn Wayne lights a cigarette, handing it to his nephew. “Have some before we get there. Relax you a bit.”

“Get where?”

“Your house? It’s Christmas? We agreed I’d bring gifts for the girls and get a nice meal?” Wayne asks.

“No. I’m not going there. Not like this and not after that.” Eddie snaps, tears falling from his eye as he thinks about it. That would just ruin Motleys Christmas even more. He couldn’t do that.

“I just wanna sleep.”

“Edward Wayne Munson.”

“Wayne John Munson.”

The sigh that falls from his uncles lips tells Eddie that he won.

(A POV from you? Gasp!)

After watching Eddie and Billy both get arrested you had to give a statement to the police, not like you could actually get a word out considering you were sobbing.

Eddie was bleeding profusely and could barely open his eye when they dragged him to the car, Motley sobbing at your hip as they did so. The officer talking to you tried to calm you down, rubbing your back in a soothing motion that didn’t work and only stressed you out more. You begged them to let Eddie go but the officer said it was protocol and that you should call in the morning to give your statement.

But you didn’t. You sat there with that cop until you calmed down and gave a proper statement, he said he would write a report and get it all sorted so you took Motley in. Getting both girls showered and ready for bed. After tucking them in, still crying, you found yourself moving to the kitchen to clean up the mess. Starting with the the broken glass that had fallen, then the dishes before you moved to scrub the floor, crying harder when you had to scrub Eddie’s blood.

At some point Motley came out, rushing into your arms to keep sobbing so you took her back to yours and Eddie’s room to try and get her to sleep there. You put her in one of Eddie’s sweatshirts before laying with her and trying to calm her down.

“He hurt daddy.” She sobs.

“Honey, Eddie was just trying to-“

“No. Billy hurt Daddy.” She explains. “It’s my fault. I told him he couldn’t come over on Christmas!”

There it was. You had wondered since Billy brought it up, you hadn’t said anything and Eddie hadn’t. So why had Motley?

“Why would you do that Motley? That was an adult decision that you should have let me tell him. I don’t want you getting in trouble because-“

“He’s mean to daddy, I didn’t want him bullying daddy! Okay?!” She cries, swiping her cheeks. “But now Daddy hates me! He hates me mama!”

“No. He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate you, okay?”

“He does!”

It took all but 30 minutes to lure Motley out of room after Eddie left for Wayne’s, promising her some chicken nuggets for dinner and that was it.

She ate silently with you before bath time, then when you sat with her on the couch before her bedtime while Ziggy slept in her crib, you noticed her watching the door every 2 minutes.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, smoothing out her still damp hair.

“Is daddy Eddie coming back for bedtime?” She asks, scratching her arm. “He always lays with me.”

“He’s gonna be at Grandpa Wayne’s tonight. Helping him out with something. We will see him tomorrow, okay metalhead?”

“Okay.”

Only when you called the next morning there was no answer, Motley getting dressed beside you with a look of excitement on her face as it rang.

“Is he there? Ask him when he’ll be home!”

“He didn’t pick up ,baby, I’m sure they are busy. We will see him later okay? Maybe we can have dinner at the diner.”

And that’s what she talked about for the rest of the day, you tried asking about her time at Billy’s but she simply shut the conversation down. By the time dinner time came about she was upset that Eddie hadn’t come back so you offered to go to Grandpa Wayne’s and pick them up.

You had been there for about 5 minutes when the van pulled up and you could hear the gasps of excitement from Motley when Eddie hops out.

Inviting him to dinner, only for Eddie to be nervous and say no. He looked upset, and you were beginning to panic deep down.

Please don’t leave us. I love you. You wanted to say but you were pretty sure that would scare him off more.

Who wanted the mother of two with the racist abusive ex? Right?

When you drove off without him Motley was just as upset. “Why didn’t he come mama?”

“He had some more stuff to help with.” You answer, smiling at her through the mirror.

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He’s just not feeling good.” Lie lie lie.

The next day you were doing laundry while Motley was dashing around upstairs and Ziggy was waddling around you.

The sound of the phone ringing didn’t draw your attention since you were too busy trying to kick the washing machine into working. But when your daughter dashed down the stairs you looked at her.

“PHONE!”

“Who is it?” You ask, laughing at her excitement as you snatch Ziggy up and follow her up the stairs.

“Daddy Eddie. He just wants to talk to you though.” And you found yourself rushing to the phone, only when you got there it was just the dial tone.

“Is he coming home? Can I do his hair when he gets back?” She asks hopefully.

“Maybe later.”

By the time you realized he was back Motley was on her own bed and the shower to your shared bathroom was running so you laid on the bed waiting for him to come out.

When he did your heart beat out of your chest, nervous and in love.

He laid down, face in the pillow as you let him know Motley loved him.

All he could say was “I know” before falling asleep and you were heartbroken.

He’s gonna leave.

Two days before Christmas Eve when Motley is dropped off from Billys he doesn’t say a word, merely tosses her bag at you as he slams his car door and drives off.

Motley storms past you, pushing into the door as you carry Ziggy in, watching her in shock. “I HATE HIM AND I HATE YOU!”

Eddie, who had been waiting in the kitchen, sulks downstairs to give her space and you feel a twist in your gut. “That’s not fair to Eddie, Mot.”

“I’m not talking about Eddie. I’m talking about HIM!” She screams, stomping to her room and ripping the poster from her door.

“Hey!” You snap, following her and trying to get her to stop as she tears down the Elvis and Fleetwood Mac poster.

“I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM! It’s bullshit!” She screams, slamming the door. Only she slams it so hard it creaks open a little. Before you could make it worse the phone rings and you find yourself heading downstairs to tell Eddie about the call.

The excitement on his face breaks your heart as you realize he is so desperate to get away from you. Jesus you trapped him didn’t you?

By the time Motley comes out of her room she looks around for a minute, sitting at the table. “Where’s daddy?”

“Band practice.” You smile.

“When will he be back?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just eat.” You felt bad about the short answer. But you were upset about the way she was acting and you were upset that she said she hated you. Not to mention the way she ripped the posters and the way Eddie seemed to run from you.

You already dragged her away from Billy once, now she was going to lose another father because of your mess. You were a terrible mother.

She hates me , and so does Eddie.

“He will be here, okay? Daddy would never miss Christmas.” You smile, crying softly yourself. “Just wait and see. Daddy will be home.”

She calmed down a bit at your promise, laying beside you.

“I asked santa for dad back last year….” She mumbles. “And he gave me an even better one.”

“Yeah, he did.”

You don’t get a lick of sleep, waiting all night for the sound of the door to open. They had to have released Eddie, right?

You overthink it all as you sneak all the gifts out to the tree, ones that Eddie wrapped while you were sick and see all the dedication he put into them which just makes your heart melt more.

When the sun starts coming up you realize that maybe no officers were there to release him and they would in the morning during normal processing hours so you focus on starting the meal and getting the girls ready.

Motley refuses to go near her presents, choosing to wait for Eddie. You’re okay with it, letting Ziggy open a gift since you know it will take her forever.

You focus on cooking while Motley waits on the couch watching out the window.

But then people start showing up for the early dinner and you begin to let that panic sink in. Steve shows up, his two sons dashing for Motley as Nancy waddles in behind them. They thought three dishes that they add to the table. Steve asks about the broken cabinet but before you explain Lucas and Mike show up with their own dishes.

One after one they all show up and sook enough you break from the crowd to go in your room and call the station.

“I’m looking for Edward Munson? He should have been released by now but-“

“He was released two hours ago.” The kid on the phone sighs. “Anything else.”

You don’t respond, choosing to hang out and close your door so your guests don’t see you cry.

He wasn’t coming, you had messed everything up like usual. God you were pathetic.

Just as Billy would say, useless as hell.

Shuffling to the bathroom to try and catch your breath, turning on the water and sitting under it as you try to ease the panic attack.

The pink pregnancy test box stares back at you from the trash bin, the actual test on the counter where you had planned to surprise Eddie.

God I can’t do anything right.

Part lll HERE

(OHHHH I really hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Please please please no hate on it! If you want to see something specific such as a blurb or scene with Eddie and the girls feel free to request. -Ultralight)

Taglist::: (Let me know if you want removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel @mariamayhemrsmunson @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @scout141 @thehuntresswolf @natie335 @alyisdead @animechick555 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @mysticpeachobject @jackiosstuff @slytherinroyalty16

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sykosugu · 18 days

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♤♢ melodies of passion ♧♡ | one

♤ summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless yakuza boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. a gojo satoru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, death, illegal activities, sexual content, gang related content, use of weapons

♧ aw: none this time around, only proofread once if that counts as a warning

♡ currently: ongoing - no update schedule

♤ taglist: open! just let me know

♢ wc: 3.1k

♧ carlile speaks: hi my loves! chapter one is here! I can't wait to hear your reactions. you might recognize someone in this story. send some love from me on her stories kickoff and in another life enjoy!

♡: you are here | next part

Gojo had been renovating his new estate for about a year now. Deciding on only the best of the best, but when it came to musical items that he wanted placed variously around his house; he wanted something more lived in. More story holding. Something that looks like it had been used and loved by many. That’s where he found you and your little shop “Encore Records” in the heart of downtown.

He wanted a grand piano, but he didn't just want any grand piano. He wanted the grand piano you had on display in your store. The one your grandfather left to you from his touring days. Your grandfather was a traveling artist, carting this piano around to every city, every country. It’d been more places than you. It sat dead center in your shop, surrounded by records, plants and various instruments customers could test out before placing orders. The only thing unavailable to order was the piano. It served as a centerpiece that you played fairly often, especially while customers perused the store and Ellie ran the cash register.

Gojo had been stopping in probably two or three times a week to try talking you into selling him the piano for his home; not taking no for an answer. Sometimes Ellie would have to fend him off while you were working in the back. Ellie would then always dash to the back to tell you what happened before another customer would walk in.

“That big Yakuza guy was in here again!” she says, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Huh?” you ask, pulling one of your earbuds out., slightly startled from the touch.

“You know, the tall white haired one who’s hot as fuck, and defintely thinks the same about you,” Ellie says, motioning to your frame, giggling at your disgusted look. “The one with the huge hands,” she winked at you.

“Ellie, he wants the piano, not me.”

“Girl, he wants both.” she chuckles, “You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” and she's leaving you alone. Proud of yourself for what? For some Yakuza man coming into your store every day, possibly scaring off possible customers? Not everyone wants to come in here when there’s a guy with a gun strapped to his chest, followed by three other men who are also armed.

He’d offered you millions of dollars in return for the piano, but no amount of money could replace the memories you have sitting with your grandfather at this piano every night while he taught you how to play. Or the nights you’d gotten to be with him on tour and see him on stage sitting at the damn thing every night. There was no way you were going to give it up. But there was no way he was going to give up either.

It was a rainy Tuesday the next time Gojo decided to come in. Another attempt at your piano, but today something in him changed.

Walking in, Gojo notices you’d just opened so there weren't any customers yet. You still haven't fixed the doorbell either, another thing he’ll have to chastise you for today. He hears you before he sees you, singing along with the radio playing Forever Young by Rod Stewart through the speakers of your store, as you stand behind the counter on a step ladder rearranging the wall of weekly favorites.

“And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true..”

Gojo can’t believe his ears; the angelic timbre of your voice and how it just rolls right off of your tongue so effortlessly.

“And do unto others

As you'd have done to you..”

He could listen to you all day long. In fact, he just might. He takes a seat on the piano bench, and just listens.

“Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

Forever young, forever young”

Once the song is over, you turn on the stool to grab the dust rag behind you, and you're startled by Gojo’s presence.

“Jesus, Gojo. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” you nearly fall off of the ladder,

“On a business’ door? No.” he smirks at you. “Didn’t anyone tell you to fix your doorbell? Pretty sure I did last week. And the week before that,” Gojo counts on his fingers, scolding you, “I’ll just have someone come do it for you.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at the man standing on his right. A tall, broad man with long black hair tucked neatly into a bun. He smiles as he pulls his phone from inside his jacket.

“No, no Gojo. Boundaries, remember?” you watch as he strides over to you, offering you his hand to help you off the ladder, but you ignore his gesture; placing your hands on the back of the ladder, stepping down, and turning to face him.

“Birdie, I’m not taking no for an answer. Your safety is at risk, and that’s not okay.” He retorts, the dark haired man already returning from making the phone call. He looks to Gojo, giving him a singular nod, to which Gojo nods back. “Repair man will be here soon.”

“Why do you even care? If I died, you could probably get a good deal on the piano.” your eyes involuntarily roll, “And I told you Birdie is reserved for my friends and those fortunate enough to see me naked, and you are neither of those things. Nor are you buying my piano.” Your hands are planted firmly on your hips as the words leave you.

Birdie was a nickname your grandfather gave you when you were young. Always running about singing like a bird. He’d scoop you up and you’d squeal, making him laugh with you. You were just a little birdie that wanted to sing her heart out. It’s what your mother wanted before she passed away. This store was your way of honoring your mother and your grandfather. They both instilled your love of music into you.

Mom loved singing karaoke anywhere she could; praying she’d get recognized by someone who saw potential in her. And oh boy, did she. But she had you and you were her main priority and nobody could deal with that when she’d mentioned she had a daughter to the talent agents. Her heart was broken but watching you grow up was what she really enjoyed. She just made sure you had the same love for music as she did.

“Ouch, you don’t see me as a friend yet? I practically come to see you every day.” he trails his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, if you were to die, I wouldn't be able to ask you to sing to me every day.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Nobody was,” you mutter. Nobody had heard you sing since before your grandfather passed away. He always begged you to go on tour with him and sing some of his songs with him but you always doubted your ability.

“Well, maybe if your doorbell was working, you could have stopped before I did.” The cocky man stands before you, hands in his pockets as he retracts his hands from you.

“Do you like hearing the sound of your own voice? Wouldn’t you rather listen to music?”

“Mm, sometimes. But the only music I want to hear is your voice telling me “I love you” for the rest of my life.”

“Fat chance, Mr. Yakuza man. Now, if you’re not here for anything other than to bother me about my doorbell and my piano, please leave.” your hands make haste to wipe the counter off before you lean back on the ladder. “What about a date?” you nearly choke on your own oxygen at his question.

“I’m sorry?” you giggle your response, unable to believe what he’d just said. Maybe Ellie was right.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles, “I’ll repeat it for you. I’d like to take you out on a date, Birdie.”

“Goj–”

“Satoru. I’ve told you to call me Satoru.” You don't miss the way his men behind him offer each other uneasy glances. He must not let anyone refer to him by his first name, and you’re not about to start either.

“Gojo, that’s not going to happen.”

“You wound me some more,” he dramatically clutches his chest, “I’ll change your mind one day, Birdie. Just watch,” he says as he makes his way to the door, his men leaving before he does. “Have a good day, Birdie. See you tomorrow.”

You’re staring into space as he leaves, thinking of the extravagant date he’d probably take you on. He’d probably be able to give you the Pretty Woman moment you’ve always dreamed of. The heels, the long red dress, the lipstick to perfectly match and the updo hairstyle to tie it all together. Gojo would probably make the best Edward Lewis in your life. But you’d never admit that out loud.

An unknown amount of time passes before you’re startled again; Ellie’s voice snaps you out of it. “Helloooo, Earth to Y/N!” she snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“Shit, sorry. I was stuck, haha,” you rub your eyes before looking at her face and offering her a smile. She hands you the coffee she had hid under her arm before tucking her belongings under the counter. You went back up the step ladder after grabbing the dust rag you’d gone looking for before you were so graciously interrupted by Gojo. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Why did Yakuza man just tell me you agreed to go on a date with him?”

“Huh?” you quickly turn to face her on the ladder, the legs wobbling under your jerking movements.

“He walked by me on my way up the sidewalk saying he finally got you to agree to a date and that I owed him the hundred bucks we bet on.”

“HUH?” nearly losing your footing for the second time today, you make your way down the ladder.

“Why are you acting like you don't know what I'm talking about?” she eyes you quizzically.

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about! What bet?” your hands find your hips again.

“Why are you more interested in my wrong doings? He’s out here lying about you!” Ellie waves her hands back and forth, feigning innocence.

“And my best friend is betting against me!”

“Semantics! C’mon, y’know I'm not actually going to pay him. He’s got more money than any one person knows what to do with.”

“That’s not the point, Ellie. You bet against me! How could you?” you toss the dust rag at her, feigning annoyance.

“Because I see the way you look at him when he’s here!” she tosses it back at you.

“Ellie, he’s literally a yakuza. I can’t entangle myself in that, whether I like him or not,” you’d love to just let him spend a night with you but, a night with him is a night with five other people that go everywhere with him.

“Birdie, you have to live a little. Enjoy the thrill. Plus, he’d probably keep you so safe.”

“While simultaneously putting me in the most danger I've ever been in.

“Okay, but the one with the double buns on top of his head is hot and I want that one so i need you to take one for the team and go on a date with this man.”

“Is that your part of some deal you made?” you jokingly accuse her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, just go on a date with him.”

“You go on a date with him,” you huff and you leave her up front. To which that only lasts about fifteen minutes before she’s coming into the back room telling you some random guy is there fixing the doorbell and isn't taking ‘no’ for an answer..

You just roll your eyes.

Ellie just wants you to be happy, no matter the cost. And you think maybe she’s not weighing the cost as much as you are. Sure, you’d be under protection at all times but the fact that the protection needs to be there at all times means you’re in just as much danger. Which does not totally sit right with you, but he is very persistent. And fairly beautiful. But you have to think with your brain and not your vagina for once.

A few hours later, you’re rearranging the Pop section of records when the phone rings. Ellie picks up with her normal “Encore Records, this is Ellie,” a few seconds pass before you hear her speak again. “Hm, let me ask real fast she’s right here. Hey, Birdie, do you have a piano lesson available tonight at 6?”

“Humm, I think so, check in my calendar. Take it if I do, please!” you go back to putting the Ariana Grande records in order by year. You hear Ellie laugh with the customer on the phone before she hangs up, thanking them for their business. “So do I have a piano lesson at 6 now?”

“Yeah, said his son's name was Suguru and that he had been hounding him to learn piano from the lady at the big CD store.”

“His son sounds adorable! I’m looking forward to teaching him.” you smile at the thought.

“You just like the ego boost,” Ellie side eyes you with a laugh.

“You should try shutting up,” you chuckle, going back to arranging your floor inventory; moving to the Metal section.

Six rolls around and you’re pulling the sheet music you have for teaching beginners around on the stand. Ellie makes her way up front to gather her things, reaching under the counter and turning the lights down.

A huff leaves you, “Hey, I still have that piano lesson tonight.”

“I know,” she gives you a look, “Have the best time, Birdie,” and she’s out the door. Uh, okay?

Right after Ellie leaves, the doorbell sounds again and you turn to be met with Gojo.

“Gojo, i have a piano less–,” you pause, “There is no piano lesson for a boy named Suguru is there?”

“He’s Suguru,” Gojo motions behind him to the man who called about your doorbell earlier. “And I’m the one who’s here for the lesson.”

Seated at the bench next to him, you can't believe you’re actually going through with this. But if he hadn’t put a deposit down over the phone, you wouldn't have. Clearly Gojo and Ellie had cooked this scheme up somehow. You almost appreciate the effort.

“You don’t seem to need a lesson,” you remark, watching him mimic your motions without even trying.

“Would you be upset with me if I said I didn't?” He starts playing Forever Young on the piano, making your eyes widen.

“Not upset, confused,” your eyes are glued to his hands, fingers flowing effortlessly over the keys.

“Just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer than a few minutes.” Gojo’s hands keep up the melody.

“You’re not going to let this up are you?” your eyes roll for the millionth time because of this man. He has a way of making your skin crawl in a good way. But again that’s something you’d never admit;

“After I heard that singing voice? Never,” he smiles over at you, continuing to play the song on the keys. “Will you show it to me again? Please, Birdie?”

“If I say yes will you stop asking to buy my grandfather's piano?” fat chance, but you’ll try anyway.

“Scouts honor,” he winks. Huh? That easy? “Or is he just that in love with you?” You can hear Ellie say in your head. Shut up.

As you begin singing along with his playing, Gojo’s smile grows in size. His hands and arms move effortlessly across the piano, fully impressing you as you watch in awe. The words flow out of you like they did earlier today.

Once you finish, Gojo looks at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. Not that he needed to win the lottery. “You really have such an amazing voice,” he breathes out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’d call it a good harmonizing voice,” you chuckle. “I sound better with the radio.”

“I’m sorry, was I the only one with ears for the last three minutes? Sug? Cho?” he makes you chuckle next to him as he turns to the men behind him.

“I heard it Sir,” they both said in unison.

“And how did she sound?”

“Lovely, sir.” Suguru says, looking over to you with a friendly smile.

“I have to agree with Suguru,” Choso says, without a smile. He seems to be more of a hardass than the other one.

“Ah, so you are the delusional one here,” Gojo turns his attention back to you.

“Shut up. Lesson’s over,” you laugh.

“Aw, but I was just getting started. How about a date then? We can take the rest of this time somewhere else.”

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” leaves you in the form of a laugh.

“Certainly. Cmon, Y/N. I know the best place down the road. Whadya say?”

“I say you’re dreaming,” you stand from the piano bench. Walking over to the light switch, you turn the lights all the way up, making everyone wince at the sight. “And that it's time to wake up, Gojo.”

“I’ll make it so worth your while. Please, just once chance, That’s all I’m asking for,” he stands and makes his way over to you. “Please, Birdie.” he runs his thumb over your cheek, you lean into the touch before you realize what you’re doing.

“If I say yes and I have a horrible time, can I reserve the right to ask you to leave me alone permanently?”

“Of course. I’d swear on it to never show my face in here again. But I promise we won’t have to worry about that. So tonight then?”

“Not tonight, how about tomorrow? After I close for the night?’

“It’s a date,” He smiles. “I’ll pick you up,”

“You mean you’ll all pick me up?” you motion to the guys behind him.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ll be around, but not with us. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Maybe you should have started with leaving them outside then,” you roll your eyes, “No offense, boys,”

“None taken,” they say in unison again. Gojo snaps his fingers and the men leave.

“You didn’t have to do that,” a chuckle leaves you again. You head for the door but Gojo softly grabs your arm.

“Leave em, I’m heading out anyways,” he slides his grip down your arm until he’s holding your hand, offering a kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Birdie. He kisses your hand once again, turning to leave.

“B-bye, Gojo.”

“Satoru,”

“If you impress me, then maybe.”

♡ tags: @therealestpussyeater @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @semra4 @manyno @lostfracturess @starlostwish @h0nestly-though @celestie0 @username23345 @lulunx @sukunasdirtylaugh

320 notes · View notes

nocturnest · 15 days

Text

You're the Cream in My Coffee

author's note: i love this fear-crazy man as much as i love coffee! 🥹 i can't imagine him drinking straight-up black coffee despite his personality because i imagine that he so secretly has a slight sweet tooth but in a refined crane kind of way - like with sweet cold foam or milk. anyway, please enjoy you guys!

It was a quiet morning at Arkham. As you made your way to your office, you couldn't help but glance with curiosity down the hall towards Dr. Jonathan Crane's door. The reserved but brilliant fellow psychologist was often the first one in the building, working tirelessly on his research and case files.

You had always admired Jonathan's sharp wit and keen intellect. Most of your colleagues steered clear of him as they found him distant and aloof. Nevertheless, he had always shown you polite courtesy. There was something about his dry sense of humor and the way his sharp blue eyes would crinkle slightly when he was amused that had captured your attention.

On this particular morning, you had woken up exceptionally early to lend a visit to your favorite coffee shop. And as you were ordering your usual drink, you thought of Dr. Crane and how hardworking he was. You had noted the dark circles that were often under his eyes and how he was usually the last to leave Arkham for the day. He looked thinner every time you saw him and you wondered if he was even eating. Before you could even process your actions, you had ordered another coffee, picking one on a whim based off of Jonathan's taste: a dark roast with hints of cinnamon and a dash of cream.

And how did you know he would like it? Well, you couldn't be blamed if you had noticed him once or twice in the staff room - on the rare occasion that he ventured out of his office to reluctantly grab the hospital's rat-poison-flavored coffee. You'd noticed the way he would wrinkle his nose in distaste at the acrid, burnt flavor of the breakroom coffee, quickly sprinkling a dash of cinnamon from a small tin he kept in his pocket to improve the taste.

It was those small details - the way he would linger over each sip, savoring the subtle warmth and spice - that had given you insight into his refined palate. And when you had the chance to bring him his morning coffee, you knew you had to do something special, something that would truly please him.

You thought he deserved something nice. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Jonathan, knowing that your colleagues often spoke unkindly of him behind his back. The other psychologists at Arkham would whisper and snicker, casting judgmental glances in his direction as he hurried through the halls, his brow furrowed in concentration.

It saddened you to see the way they dismissed him, writing him off as nothing more than a cold, calculating eccentric. If only they could see the subtle nuances of his character, the flashes of dry wit and intellectual curiosity that you had come to admire.

You suspected that Jonathan was a deeply lonely man, so consumed by his work and his research that he had allowed the barriers around his heart to harden over time. And you couldn't help but wonder if, deep down, he craved the kind of genuine connection and understanding that so many of his peers seemed to take for granted.

That's why you had put so much thought into selecting the perfect coffee for him. You wanted him to know that there was at least one person at Arkham who saw him as more than just an oddity, more than just a means to an end. You wanted him to feel appreciated, to know that someone truly cared.

As you made your way to Jonathan's office, mug in hand, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. It wasn't exactly typical for a colleague to be bringing another coffee, especially one as reserved and enigmatic as Dr. Jonathan Crane. You knew you'd have to have a good excuse ready if he questioned your gesture.

Thankfully, inspiration struck as you neared his door. Earlier that morning, you had noticed the coffee maker in the staff break room was acting up again, only producing a weak, watered-down brew. Jonathan, being the devoted workaholic that he was, had likely missed his usual morning cup in his rush to get an early start.

You knocked on his office door, which was slightly ajar, "Good morning, Dr. Crane."

Jonathan looked up with brief surprise crossing his face, his eyebrows raised, before he quickly schooled his features into a more neutral and collected expression. He greeted you, his voice low and slightly raspy from lack of sleep, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You offered him the coffee, feeling a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. "I- um... The coffee machine has been acting up lately, so I brought you a fresh cup. It's probably better than the dreadful coffee they offer here anyway. I hope that's alright."

Jonathan eyed the mug skeptically, but after a moment's hesitation, he reached out and took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. "That's...very kind of you," he said, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied the contents of the cup.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the brief contact, but you tried your best to maintain a casual demeanor. "I know how important that first cup of coffee is, especially for someone as dedicated as you," you replied, offering him a small, hopefully reassuring smile.

His piercing blue eyes studied you for a moment, and you couldn't help but feel as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

You held your breath as Jonathan took a cautious sip, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft sound of rain tapping against the windowpane.

Then, to your relief and delight, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Jonathan's lips. "It's...quite good," he admitted, his tone almost surprised.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words. You had hoped he would enjoy it, but hearing his genuine approval was more than you could have asked for.

"I'm glad you like it," you replied, unable to contain the smile that spread across your face. "I know it's not much, but I thought you deserved something better than the usual."

Jonathan's eyes softened as he met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.

With a nod of acknowledgment, you turned to leave, feeling a wave of accomplishment wash over you. You sensed that this would be the beginning of many more interactions with Jonathan Crane.

Over the next few weeks, it became routine for you to bring Jonathan his favorite coffee whenever you could, even if it meant waking up a bit earlier to make it to work. It was worth it to see a lovely smile grace his face, his entire lighting up youthfully. Gradually, the two of you began to exchange brief conversations in the hallway or during breaks.

You learned more about Jonathan than you ever imagined you would. He shared stories of his childhood - some being precious and others proving more saddening. He spoke about his love for literature and philosophy and his interest in the intricacies of the human mind. You found yourself drawn to his sharp intellect and dry wit.

Some of his casual sarcastic remarks and mutterings to himself had you practically crying with laughter, causing your colleagues to stare at you as if you were a madwoman if they happened to be nearby. After discovering how easily he could make you laugh, Jonathan began using your weakness to your advantage and making you giggle in the most serious of situations.

He had such a surprising humor to him that had only come out by spending more time with him the softness that peeked through his carefully composed exterior. You noticed other things about him too - little details that slowly painted a fuller picture of who Jonathan truly was. The manner in which his eyes would light up with a rare, genuine passion as he discussed the latest developments in psychology. The subtle way his hands would run unusually cold, a telltale sign of his underlying tension and nervousness. The habit of running his fingers through his dark hair when he was deep in thought, brow furrowed in concentration.

And then, of course, there were the moments of softness, the flashes of vulnerability that would occasionally peek through the carefully composed exterior he presented to the world. The slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he was truly amused by one of your witty exchanges. The gentle tone that would creep into his voice when he spoke of his favorite books or theories. It was in those unguarded instants that you caught glimpses of who the man truly was.

And there were moments when you began to realize that your fascination with him wasn't one-sided. Jonathan too asked about you and your life. He chuckled at your embarrassing stories and frowned when you mentioned the rougher parts of your childhood. He had an aptitude for listening and for giving sound advice, which made you realize just how incredible he was at what he did for a living.

But something more began to grow between the two of you. You felt an undeniable pull towards him that had only grown since that first step, that first cup of coffee. And sometimes, you felt the heaviness of his gaze mixed with an indescribable emotion. Whatever feeling it was behind his eyes - well, you wanted him to stare at you like that forever.

You had grown accustomed to the quiet camaraderie that had developed between you and Jonathan over the past few weeks. Your daily coffee deliveries had become a cherished ritual, and the easy banter you shared had slowly chipped away at the icy facade he so often presented to the world.

But today, as you made your way through the halls of Arkham, you couldn't help but overhear a hushed conversation between a few of your colleagues. Their words, laced with barely concealed disdain, filled you with unease.

"Can you believe that she brings Crane coffee every morning?" one of them scoffed. "As if he's not weird enough already."

Another chimed in, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Yeah, and have you noticed how much time she's been spending with him lately? Probably trying to whore herself off to get a promotion."

You felt your cheeks flush with hurt and embarrassment, your heart sinking. Was that really what they all thought of you? That you were simply using Jonathan for your own personal gain? That you weren't genuine about your desire for his friendship?

The discussion continued, the gossip growing more and more vicious until you couldn't bear it anymore. You felt tears creeping out of your eyes as you stalked down the halls and back to your office, avoiding every glance that came your way. You shut the door behind you, making your way directly to the small couch in your office and pulling a soft blanket around your trembling shoulders as the tears finally spilled over. The cruel words of your colleagues kept echoing in your mind, each barb cutting deeper than the last.

How could these colleagues of yours, who had faked their pleasantries with you and occasionally even asked you about your day, be so two-faced? How could they think so little of you? Of the genuine friendship you had forged with Jonathan? The time you had spent getting to know him, the way your heart raced whenever he fixed you with that piercing gaze - it was all so much more than some cheap ploy for favor or advancement.

You cared for Jonathan, more than you knew how to express. The warmth of his smile, the subtle softness that would sometimes peek through his carefully crafted facade - it had all wormed its way deep into your heart. And the thought of anyone diminishing those precious moments you shared cut you to the core.

As you sat there, your vision blurred by tears, you didn't hear the familiar knock at your door. It wasn't until you sensed a presence beside you that you looked up, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of Jonathan wearing a concerned expression.

"My dear, what's wrong?" he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he moved to sit beside you.

You couldn’t find the strength in you to respond, tears continuing to streak down your cheeks. Something in Jonathan's heart broke for you, and he placed a gentle arm around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

"It's alright." He spoke in a soothing, gentle tone, his fingertips lightly stroking your arm in a comforting gesture, "I'm here."

Jonathan waited for your sobs to subside and then carefully cradled your face, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining tears, "Tell me, what happened?" His brow furrowed with concern as he searched your face, waiting for you to find the right words.

Your breath was shaky, gaze falling as you recounted the gossip you had heard, "I-I was bringing you coffee - you know, like usual. But then I heard some of the others talking and..." You paused and Jonathan's expression darkened as he listened, his jaw tightening with barely contained anger.

"Some of the others talking, saying such horrible things. About how I'm only doing it to try and get ahead, that I'm..." Anger took over you as you utter the last part, "whoring myself off."

Jonathan practically gritted his teeth in anger at that. It was one thing for him to have to deal with the constant remarks and bullying in his life. By now, he was used to it - until that changed when he met you. But for you to be dragged into this, to be treated so horribly. He wouldn't stand for it.

"My dear, why on Earth would you put yourself through this for my sake?" His piercing blue eyes studied you intently, a hint of exasperation in his tone, "After all, I'm hardly worth the trouble, am I?" There was a self-deprecating edge to his words, like he truly believed he wasn't worth the effort.

Jonathan sighed, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features, "You shouldn't have to defend me, nor should you have to endure the cruelty of our colleagues. I'm quite accustomed to their...less than pleasant opinions of me." A wry, humorless smile tuggeed at the corners of his lips.

He pauses, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he meets your confused gaze. You didn't understand how he failed to see how incredible he actually was. You hesitated, murmuring, "They're wrong, you know. You're a wonderful friend and they just don't see that."

Jonathan's eyes widened but he hid his surprise with a soft smile, "Oh? Well I'm truly touched. I find your unwavering loyalty quite endearing."

You blushed as his expression turned impish, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, scrutinizing your words, "And friends, you say?"

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I...I consider you my closest friend here, Jonathan." The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you suddenly felt caught.

Jonathan's expression turned thoughtful, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Is that so?" He paused, his piercing gaze studying you intently. "Then how do you explain the time you fell asleep on my shoulder in my office?" His tone was lightly teasing, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Or that time we shared a cup of coffee, our lips mere inches apart?"

Your face reddened more and more as you tried to figure out a response. "T-that was just...I mean, it was only once! And the coffee, I just...I wanted to make sure you got the right order, that's all!"

Jonathan chuckled, clearly delighted by your flustered state. "Hmm, I see. And what about the fact that you knew exactly how I take my coffee from the very start? Cinnamon and all?" His fingers graze your cheek, leaving you to only want more of his touch. "Surely that goes beyond the realm of mere friendship, don't you think?"

He leaned in even closer, tilting his head with mock admonishment, his gaze flicking down to your lips for the briefest of moments. "And let's not forget that time I caught you...unbeknownst to you, of course...staring at my..."

You can't help but cut him off, your heart racing. "Alright, alright! I admit it, Jonathan. I...I've developed feelings for you. More than just friendship." You averted your gaze, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable. He noticed the fear on your face, which he would have taken pleasure in if you weren't you.

Jonathan's expression softened, and he reached out to gently tilt your chin up, meeting your eyes. "My dear, I don't doubt the sincerity of your affection." His voice was low and intimate. "And frankly, I'm quite flattered." He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your lips. "So tell me, is it still 'just friends' you want?"

"No?"

A subtle smile made its way onto his lips, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest. "Is that a question?" His thumb traced the outline of your mouth.

"No. I mean - yes. Argh, I-"

He chuckled at your struggle to speak, his lips grazing your ear as he murmured, "Am I making you nervous?"

You narrowed your eyes at him briefly, aware that he was taunting you, and whispered, "Yes." You didn't think you'd ever been this close to Jonathan. You noticed that his eyes have grey specks in them.

"Hm. Well, then...Tell me what it is that you truly want?"

The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, making it difficult for you to think clearly. You found yourself captivated by the depth of emotion within his eyes.

"I want..." You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours and lips millimeters apart. Jonathan leaned back ever so slightly upon your pause. He was teasing you, eager for you to work for his touch. His hand moved down to trace the edge of your collarbone, giving you chills.

His pupils darkening, he murmured, "Say it."

You notice the bare anticipation and hunger in his gaze, but he also still had that same mischief about him. Unable to hold back your desire, you whispered, "I want you, Jonathan." Your voice was laced with a quiet intensity. "Your mind, your touch, your affection. All of you."

The words set off a proper reaction in him, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss.

You gasped softly, the sensation of his mouth moving hungrily against yours setting your nerves on fire. Without breaking the kiss, Jonathan gently guided you backward, and you sunk down onto the couch as he hovered over you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other keeping him upright.

In the halls, you had always noticed the musk of his cologne and the distinct smell of the spice he craved so dearly. Naturally, he tasted like cinnamon and his kiss was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

He bit your lip and you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him.

As you pulled his hips closer to yours, you could feel a hardness press on you. Jonathan groaned as you moved against him. You could stay like this forever, under him as he kissed you senselessly.

Eventually, you parted, both of you breathless and flushed. Jonathan gazed down at you, his eyes dark with desire. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, a blazing look in his eyes.

"You truly are a marvel, my dear. Ignore what nonsense anyone else says," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. He dips his head, nuzzling against your neck, his lips trailing featherlight kisses along your skin. "You are the cream in my coffee. You make my life sweeter. I hope to only bring you that same joy."

You softened immensely at his words. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he continued his gentle assault, intent on exploring every possible inch of you, his keen eyes noticed your little reactions to his touch. And you didn't mind one bit. You craved him. To think this had all simply started with a sweet cup of coffee...

@kpopgirlbtssvt @kiss-me-cill-me @mothhball hope you guys enjoy!

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #cillian murphy #batman #batman begins #the dark knight #dark knight #dark knight trilogy #the dark knight trilogy

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Hey! could you please write something about Aemond hearing his name in a conversation, he stays at the door sure he will hear something bad but instead he hears the lady talk about her sex dreams about him

Thank you so much💙

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1400

Aemond strides down the corridor of the Red Keep, in the direction of the training yard. It is mid-morning and his schedule runs like clockwork - he has a sparring session with Ser Criston Cole in 15 minutes and fully intends to arrive early, he always does.

Raucous laughter echoes down the hallway. He catches the source of it through a crack in the solar door, which has been left ajar. Helaena’s ladies in waiting are all reclining on the couches inside, though there is no sign of the Princess which they are in service of.

He scowls. He doesn’t understand why they aren’t shut away when not in Helaena’s presence. They are always laughing, it gives him a migraine. What could possibly be so funny?

The giggles subside when one of them speaks in hushed tones.

“I had a dream last night…about Prince Aemond.”

His ears prick up at this, his curiosity piqued, and he hovers to the left of the doorframe, so he can listen in undetected. He is certain that what is to follow will be some gruesome retelling of the One-Eyed Prince being the source of night terrors, it would not be the first time he has overheard unkind words about himself.

“Oh? Do share.” One of them pipes up.

“I-I can’t.” She stammers. “It is improper.”

Aemond’s eye widens at this. He leans forward, peering through the gap to see which of them it is. She is pretty. Beautiful, actually. He has never bothered to take the time to properly look at any of them before, usually doing his best to avoid them at all costs, but there is no denying that she is fairer than any woman he has ever looked upon. He hopes more than anything that the rest of this wretched gaggle can convince her to divulge further details.

More giggles erupt, before a voice chimes in.

“Oh, go on, your secret’s safe with us!”

“Well…we were coupling…and it felt good…I have heard that lying with a man is painful and uncomfortable, but I was enjoying it, and after…he pleasured me with his mouth…”

This is a chorus of gasps, followed by more laughing.

Aemond feels his heart hammering inside of his chest. It seems so loud he is certain the ladies in the solar will notice and catch him in the act of eavesdropping. His skin flushes hot from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He is in utter disbelief at what he has just heard.

“Were you not repulsed by it? He is disfigured after all.”

“No.” She rebuffs. “Actually, I find Prince Aemond rather dashing…”

Aemond pushes off of the wall and hurries away. He has heard enough. He does not know how to handle the words he was just privy to. They were not meant for his ears and yet he cannot undo hearing them. What is he supposed to do with the way they have set his pulse racing? He never asked for this, had never even noticed her before today, and yet he cannot help replaying the words in his mind.

We were coupling.

It felt good.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.

For the first time in his life he is late to the training yard. Ser Criston greets him with a reproachful look, before Aemond suffers through what is undoubtedly the worst sparring session he has participated in since he first took up a wooden sword as a child.

We were coupling.

His sword is knocked from his hand.

It felt good.

His shield splinters under a blow from a morningstar.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

He is knocked to the ground.

I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.

The point of Criston’s sword is at his throat.

“Is everything alright, My Prince?” Criston asks with genuine concern, offering out a hand and helping Aemond back to his feet.

Aemond’s eye is wide, his breathing laboured, and not from the exertion of training.

“I-I think I am unwell, Cole. Please excuse me.”

He stalks back inside, seeking solace in the library. Pulling a copy of Unnatural History from the shelf, his favourite book to lose himself in, he settles into an armchair and begins to read.

“The bloodmages of Valyria used wyvern stock to create dragons…we were coupling…The bloodmages of Valyria…it felt good…”

“Seven hells!” He slams the book shut upon realising he cannot get past the first line, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

He has never heard of a man doing such a thing to a woman. Despite the vulgarity of it, he is intrigued. He places his copy of Unnatural History on the nearby table and stands, making his way towards the end of the library that contains the more salacious reading material.

He takes a quick look around to make sure the prying eyes of the maesters aren’t watching him, before scanning the shelves and selecting the tome he feels will be most relevant for what he is attempting to research.

It only takes a few seconds of flicking through the pages before he finds what he’s looking for. Graphic descriptions of how women can be prepared for intercourse, and even brought to peak, via the use of lips and tongue.

His eye widens and his breathing quickens as he imagines licking her in her most intimate area. It’s only when he realises that his cock is now straining painfully against the laces of his breeches that he hurriedly places the book back on the shelf and retires to his chambers.

He lays on his bed that afternoon, spilling into his own hand, with her name falling from his lips like an urgent prayer.

She is there at the dining table when he goes to supper that evening. It is not unusual for Helaena to invite her ladies in waiting to dine with them, and usually Aemond sits at the far end of the table, avoiding eye contact and all attempts at conversation. However, this evening feels different. Prior to tonight he had never heard her say she found him “dashing”, he had never pleasured himself to the thought of burying his face between her thighs.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest as he takes his seat. His food remains untouched. Every time he looks up he catches her eyes upon him. Does she know? How could she?

In truth, he cannot keep his eyes off of her either and it is probably that that drives her to stare as she does.

On an ordinary evening, Aemond sips delicately at his wine throughout the meal, leaving the cup almost full by the time he leaves the table. However, tonight he finds himself draining his first and gulping greedily at the second. The calming effect it has on his nerves is most agreeable to him.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

His grip on the edge of the wooden table turns his knuckles white, as he struggles to compose himself. His sigh of relief is almost audible as the meal draws to a close and everyone begins to retire for the evening.

He catches sight of her outside of her own bedchamber door as he is returning to his. Fuelled by the confidence that two cups of wine on an empty stomach has granted him, he lengthens his strides, catching up to her before she is able to make it inside and close the door.

She turns, startled, as he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

“My Prince?” She asks, a hint of fear and confusion pinching her delicate features as her brow furrows slightly.

Acting on his new found boldness, Aemond leans down to whisper in her ear, his voice husky. “I heard what you said earlier.”

He regards her face carefully as he pulls back, but there is no apparent recollection, so he decides to be more daring. Leaning in once more he says “Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I’d do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”

He lets her go and walks away with a smirk. When he chances a glance back over his shoulder and sees that she is still frozen in place, her mouth agape, he knows that she knows exactly what he is talking about and his words have had the desired effect.

“Sweet dreams, my lady.” He calls behind him.

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fallingdownhell · 6 months

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hi!! i really loved your reader drunk complimenting dumeru boys 😭❤️ i was wondering if you can make something similar but with diluc, xiao, thoma? you can add whoever else you want!

thank you in advance, if ever you come across this ask and accept my request! love your writing btw <3

Thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoy my writing! And of course, I loved that request so much myself, glad to include some other characters in this now<3

Characters Included: Diluc; Xiao; Thoma

Content: gender neutral reader; drunk reader; established relationship; general fluffy content

Word count: 2k words

Imagine Reader's parts as drunken gibberish, I can't write that for the life of me xD

Diluc

Even though Diluc himself did not like drinking alcohol and rarely participated in it, he could understand your need for the occaisonal drink at his bar, especially when he noticed you approach after an particular stressful day at work.

He noticed your slumped way of walking, the sour expression on your face as you approached the bar at Angel's Share. Without a word, he turned and prepared your favourite drink for you, placing it in front of you with an understanding nod.

You thanked him and almost downed the drink entirely in one go. So it was that bad, huh?

Like always, he wanted to keep an eye on you the entire time, to ensure you wouldn't drink too much, but something came up and he had to leave the bartending to Charles on his own.

As he emerged from his office within the Angel's Share again after two hours had passed, he was surprised and concerned when he did not see you sitting at the bar anymore.

Alarmed, he was about to dash over to Charles to question him about your whereabouts, but then a shout ripped through the tavern, a voice he would recognise anywhere.

He turned to the source of the noise and found you sitting at one of the many tables in the tavern, surrounded by other people who were heavily drunk and singing along with the bards... just like you were.

Diluc turned again to look at Charles, who only spared him one apologetic look before he tended to other customers again.

"DILUC!"

The shout of his name brought him to turn his attention back to your drunken self, as you tried approaching him on your stumbling and unsafe legs. He caught you under your arms as you were about to fall right in front of him, but this only made you giggle more.

"Where have you been? You missed out on SOOO much fun!", you laughed and giggled while talking, raising your glass to your lips again to drink even more. But Diluc caught your hand before you could do so, gently taking the glass from your grip.

"I think you've had enough for the night, darling."

"No! I'm pracitcally sober! See?". You tried convincing him, but you were basically stumbling while only staying in one spot, so it wasn't exactly successful.

"Come on, it's time to get you to bed.", he said as he then gently picked you up, one hand supporting your upper body while his other arm was holding you under your legs.

You let out a surprised noise at the sudden motion, but soon started giggling again, wrapping your arms around his neck as Diluc carried you out the tavern and began the walk back to his mansion.

It was late at night already, but that didn't stop you from talking the entire time, commenting either about the time of day or what you were seeing upon your travels.

"WOW, did you see the shape of that bush?!"

"Has that flower always been there? ...Why is it staring at me?"

Diluc couldn't help but smile at your crazy talk. He wished he could see what you were seeing right now, but it's best if he didn't.

This carried on for a while, him carrying you like this while you commented on absolutely everything without pause, until suddenly, you slapped your hands against his cheeks, holding his face like that and making him look at you.

Surprised, he stopped walking, looking at you questioningly as you were practically staring him in the eyes, not saying anything.

"...What?", he asked after a few seconds of silence as you began squinting your eyes together.

"You have such a pretty face, you know that?", you suddenly said, before giggling again, letting go of Diluc's face again and hiding your own against his chest.

Meanwhile, Diluc had combusted into all the different shades of red at your compliment. His brain stopped working for a second at the unsuspected praise of his appearance.

When he tried nudging you, he noticed that you'd finally fallen asleep in his arms, looking peacefully unaware. Diluc sighed, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, whispering "Sweet dreams" into your ear as he carried on his way, holding you tightly against his chest.

He knew you would feel the full force of your drinking tomorrow morning, but he would be there as well, to help and comfort you through it.

Xiao

He was still not too familiar with the customs of the humans, so he didn't think too much of it when you told him that you were going out for a few drinks with your friends.

He just nooded and wished you a good night with them while he would focus on his duties for the time you were going to be apart. Never would he have thought it would end like this..

The night has already progressed quite far, but there were still no signs of you coming back. And Xiao was slowly starting to get worried.

He hasn't heard anything from you at all. Normally, you would call his name and he would accompany you back home, to make sure you would arrive safe and sound.

But never before did it take you this long, you usually never stayed out this late.

So the fact that it happened now, made his mind spin with worry and a hundred different scenarios on what could have happened to you while he wasn't there to protect you.

As his thoughts kept wandering and getting worse by the second, he suddenly heard you... your voice... calling his name..

He was confused for only a second because your voice didn't sound as paniced like he had imagined it would, but that was quickly shoved to the back of his mind as he teleported to you.

To his surprise, he stood in the middle of a very crowded place, people all around him and shouting and singing very loudly with each other. Is this what you called a "tavern" earlier?

Xiao then looked around and spotted you not too long after. You were standing with your back turned to him, so he approached you, wanting to know why you called for him.

As he came closer, he noticed you standing with your group of friends. The closer he got, the better he began to understand what you were talking about.

"... so handsome! And his hair! Oh my god, his hair! It's so fluffly! Like, you wouldn't think it, but it's so..."

You were rambling, your friends laughing at your drunken monologue about your boyfriend, which made you pout.

"Hey! Don't laugh at me! It's true, Xiao is very handsome and loveable!"

Xiao froze in his tracks over hearing you say that. Was that why you called his name? Because you were gushing to your friends about him?

"Yeah, yeah, we know, (Name).", your friends were laughing and giggling even more at your pouting, to which you then decided to turn around to get another drink from the bar. Although those plans of your were long forgotten as you recognized the face of your boyfriend in the crowd.

"XIAO!", you screamed, a huge grin appearing on your face as you immediately ran towards him, startling the poor Adeptus even more. He was unsure how to react in this situation, but you just took care of that for him.

Jumping up into his arms, hugging your arms around his neck, you giggled as you burried your face into his neck. "What are you doing here?", you asked him after a minute, only now realizing how strange his presence here was.

"You.. called my name.", Xiao explained, a bit awkward since your friends were watching you two and he did not know how to handle you right now. You were acting so different than usual..

"I did? Really.. I don't remember..", you pondered, but moments later, it was already forgotten again as you hugged him again, giggling like a madman, continuing to mumble "Xiao.. Xiao.. my Xiao..", while you did so.

Xiao was blushing like crazy, and the best thing he knew to do right now was to escape this situation as soon as possible.

"I'll be taking her home now.", he said directed to your friends. Then, placing an arm around your back, he teleported you and himself back to his room at Wangshuu Inn, were he laid you down on the bed.

He would let you rest for now, but there were a lot of questions he needed you to answer tomorrow morning..

Thoma

Thoma himself did not drink often, but he also never stopped you from doing so, knowing that you liked to go out from time to time to have fun this way. And he always took care of you when you had a terrible hangover the next day.

You always felt guilty about it and he would tell you that he didn't mind it a bit, but it didn't help your conscious at all. Still, the next best opportunity you got, you would do it again.

It became somewhat of a routine that Thoma would look after you when you overdid it with the drinking again.

Like today...

It was only supposed to be two or three drinks with some friends at a bar, but it escalated when a certain Oni came into the picture, challenging you to a drinking game which you could not turn down.

Thoma tried his best in talking you out of it, but your pride got the better of you. And now, you were horribly drunk, your head resting on the bar counter as you giggled and laughed at absolutely nothing.

Your friends and other spectators were laughing at you, as well as the drunk Oni next to you, while Thoma was shaking his head. He did feel pity for you, because the hangover would be gruesome, but on the other hand, he did warn you and you refused to listen to him. It was your own fault...

Deciding that enough was enough, he went over to you, gently patting your back.

"Come on, (Name). It's time to go home now.", he said as he took one of your arms to place it over his shoulder, while his other arms wrapped around your back so he could help you walk better.

You were barely conscious at this point, only unintelligable noises leaving your lips, interrupted by the occaisonal giggle or laughter.

The people made room for the two of you as Thoma helped you to get outside, the fresh air hitting your face and you soon felt like you became a bit more clear in the head again.

Suddenly realizing that you were walking, you looked at the figure next to you through squinted eyes. You didn't recognize much, other than the fact that whoever that was, they were looking rather handsome..

"Heeyy.. you come here often?", you asked, the words managed to come out after a few attempts. The person next to you was silent for a few seconds, then you heard a chuckle from them.

"You could say that, yes.", they answered you, which satisfied you for now. You nodded, walking in silence for a bit, until a new realization hit you.

"Wait.. where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home. You had a bit too much to drink, (Name)."

You only nodded again, letting this strange person walk you back to your home without further resistance. Maybe, if you were more sober, you would have realized the hidden dangers in this if the person next to you would have been anyone else..

As soon as you were through the door of your home and your head hit your soft pillow, your lights went out instantly and you were snoring softly, sleeping like a rock.

With a sigh, but also a fond smile on his lips, Thoma looked at you and shook his head as he made sure to pull the blankets over your body, before he left for now to gather a few herbs and medicine to help your recovery later...

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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 month

Text

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.

Words: 3.4k

A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂

I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.

Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.

*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***

Dean Winchester. You hate him. His stubbornness and stoic grace. His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together. The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too. Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.

Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration. His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you. Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.

You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness. The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.

You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean. Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection. You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”. Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.

Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable. Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.

Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.

Dean allows the contact, his head hanging. “Cas made his choice.” His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.” You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.

“He knows where I am if he does.” He states, matter of fact. “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.” Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh. “You and Sam.”

“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.” You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.

The words don’t come out, however. Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.

Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala. Shit! Angels. Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt. How have they found you again?

“Son of a bitch!” Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.

You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.

Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them. You, however, are stuck. With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres. At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland. You can lose them in the trees.

Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.

“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.

“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins. Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.

You know he’s right about the car. The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path. You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood. That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.

The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind. You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.

“Hey, Sam!” You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.

“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone. “Sam is driving. He said I’m too slow.”

You grin big. That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do. From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.

“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.” Sam sighed with mild frustration.

“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!” Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin. You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.

“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain. “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”

“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.” Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.

“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.” Sam offers. “We can turn around and try to catch up.”

“No!” Dean snaps. “You’re both safe. I want you to stay that way. Get someplace and lay low. We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”

“Dean…” Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.

“I said No! Okay? For once, just do what I say. We’ve got this.”

You hang up the phone without waiting for a response. You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.

The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns. It looks promising and Dean agrees.

The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals. Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady. Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.

You check all around as soon as you crest the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you don’t see the black government-style vehicle. Dean doesn’t wait to find out, he puts his foot down and puts a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever is behind you.

“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.

“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.” Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.

Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax. He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back. The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.

A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset. You point to the sign and Deans nods. He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.

As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you. It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes. You feel it too. Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release. You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better. You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.

A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest. Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever. You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.

You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open. Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear. Your need to feel him.

You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed. You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.

The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.

Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.

It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you. The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his. He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him. Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.

Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks. His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.

“You ready for me?” You ask, breathless.

“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”

You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long. Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.

Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance. Your eyes meet as you begin to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it. He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.

When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.

You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.

“Fuck…” he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.

“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.

“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now. “We’ll get you for two.”

He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair. He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.

“You feel freaking amazing.” He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.

“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.

He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt. Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby. Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.

Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man. Damn, he’s hot! Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet. Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure. The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.

When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops. There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you. It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes. You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.

His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him. His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes. With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.

As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged. He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming. He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.

“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell. “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”

Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.

“I want it,” you almost beg. “Want you.”

He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.

Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you. Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body. Everything feels so right, he feels right. The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel. It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.

Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest. There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him. Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.

“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.

“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips. “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”

“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?” You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.

He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal. “Hell yeah! Sign me up.”

You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam. You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away. You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholomew.

After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.

“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.” You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.

“Several.” He says against your delicate skin.

“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?” You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.

“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.

Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need. Dean kisses you with such force it steals your breath and makes your knees weak, and when he pulls back he looks at you thoughtfully. Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grins.

“Cherry,” his eyes go to your lips again, “I like it.”

Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.

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