#hopefully everyone gets the pun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gretagerwigsmuse · 3 months

Text

rocketman: part ii - from the back of the cab

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw finally returns stateside for just about the best damn homecoming he's ever had. it's been three months of countless emails and facetime calls between the two of you, but what awaits you both now that bradley's back? and what does it mean for your relationship going forward? [read part i here]

OR a homecoming 159 emails in the making

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 10k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, and suggestive content. a lot of the italic words are direct references to the emails in part i or direct quotes from the rocket man by ray bradbury (read at your own risk because if you picture bradley as the rocket man, you'll cry). the next part will pick up right where this one leaves off and hopefully won't take too long to get out!

from the back of the cab to the airport // i am happy you and i got this hour

Having multiple people, let alone multiple people who loved him more than anything in the world, waiting for him when he got home from a deployment, no matter how brief or long, was definitely a newer experience for Bradley. There was almost a giddiness about him as he said his goodbyes to Bob and Payback and the other pilots he’d flown with from Lemoore. He couldn’t wait to see you in twenty seconds after it’d felt like he’d been gone for twenty years.

The countless (actually one-hundred and fifty-nine - he’d counted) emails between the two of you had been his saving grace these last three months. You’d emailed him almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day, much to the jealousy of his colleagues. He’d become addicted to them almost.

How did your cooking class go? What was your day like at work? Yes, he would love to go on a trip to Mexico. No, your mom is an absolute idiot. How did you touch yourself at night? Were you being a good girl for him?

And in twenty seconds he’d have the real thing. He’d have you in his arms, hugging him, kissing him, talking a mile a minute about any and everything under the sun.

(He knew Maverick would be there, too. He wasn’t being flippant about it or anything - all Bradley had wanted for the last thirteen years was for Maverick to be there when he got home. Last year, when he’d gotten back from three months out near Guam, he’d unabashedly cried from behind his sunglasses when he saw Maverick, Penny, and Amelia waiting for him. Amelia had even made a sign for him with terrible puns and lots of glitter. They’d had Bradley over for dinner - a family dinner - and he had felt on top of the world. Until he’d had to go back to his brand-new, empty house. Bitter with the sweet, he supposed.)

Off to his right, Bradley could see Bob and Callie hugging, and Reuben fussing over his wife’s noticeable baby bump. He smiled at the sight and the thought that he wouldn’t want to leave you while you were pregnant briefly floated through his mind.

And then, like he had conjured you up, there you were. You hadn’t seen him yet. But Bradley could see you as you craned your neck and stretched on your tiptoes, bobbing and weaving and stretching to try and find him in the crush.

He'd known you were taking a half day to pick him up and you looked so soft and lovely in your off-duty clothes - a simple pair of cropped jeans and a pale blue oxford that he'd later realize was his. Pale blue in a sea of khaki with your sunglasses perched on the top of your head as the sun still beamed strongly onto the asphalt.

Like something out of a movie, you turned your head and locked eyes with him. The two of you couldn't have been more than thirty feet apart and it was like everyone and everything around you had stopped - just for a moment. A blip in time. And then a smile crept across your face and your eyes lit up and the world started again.

“Bradley!”

With nary a glance back at Maverick, who Bradley had just realized was standing next to you, you ran towards Bradley and into his arms with so much force that he staggered backwards. His seabag made a solid thud on the ground as he wrapped his arms around you - one around your waist and another around the back of your neck. You burrowed your face in his neck and he couldn't resist holding you tighter, lifting you slightly so that the tips of your shoes kissed the asphalt.

This - this is what he had been missing for the last three months. Home. Home. Home. Bradley was home. With you. And holding you.

"Hey, kid." You tightened your hold on him at the moniker. "You miss me?"

“More than anything.” Not even a second after he put you down, your hands were running across his cheeks and neck. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? I have snacks in the car if you're hungry or -"

He cut you off with a kiss, your first kiss in three months. Thirteen weeks. Ninety-one days. Two thousand one hundred ninety-one hours.

Bradley knew he would have a lot more of these homecomings - had even had some with you already. But he would never forget this one - his favorite homecoming. Two weeks, ten days, three days; it was nothing. Nothing compared to being in your arms again after three months apart. Nothing compared to kissing you again after three months.

There was so much genuine love and longing in you - in him - that Bradley already dreaded when he’d leave you again. Because there would always be another time.

At least until he broke the cycle.

(Don’t ever be a rocket man. Promise me you won’t be like me.)

But for now you were safe in his arms, feeling and smelling and sounding like home and god - for now that was enough.

Your voice was similarly muffled. “Oh, bubs. I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re finally home.”

“And I can’t believe you’re in front of me right now.”

He wanted to touch you everywhere. Your cheeks, your hair, your shoulders, your legs, your breasts. Everywhere. There was no way he could ever get enough of you.

You tilted your head up and smiled at him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Let’s go home.” The smile that lit up your face could guide Bradley home on even his darkest days.

Before setting off, he gave you another kiss, this one just as sweet, and the two of you started making your way to the gate and by the other families milling around. It was a bit awkward balancing his arm around your shoulder with his seabag, but it was all worth it to have you tucked into his side again. You were so soft and warm and smelled so pretty. He couldn’t get over it. Everything about you felt safe and precious.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house! I have almost everything situated, just a couple seasonal clothes and coats at my old place. I thought maybe we could go after work on Tuesday - unless you’re in a debrief or something or have other plans?”

Bradley squeezed you closer to his side. “Nah, I should be done by Monday afternoon, so Tuesday’s perfect.”

You nuzzled your face against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re home.” And then softer still, “I’m gonna keep saying it because it still doesn’t feel real.”

“Well,” Bradley steered you both away from the crush, “I’ll try my hardest to make it feel real for you later.”

And, God, it went straight to his cock, the way you peered up at him, eyes slightly widened. You even bit your lip, cheeky thing. His seabag slipped from his grasp and he wound both arms around your waist pulling you close to him again. All he wanted to do was play out one of those cheeky little emails of ours in excruciating detail. With his girl.

His wonderful girl. His sweet girl. His smart girl. His, his, his, his -

It was definitely verging on improper, the way he was kissing you now. But Bradley didn’t care. Not when you felt and smelled and tasted so fucking good -

“- Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!”

You whined against Bradley’s lips when he pulled away. It felt like he’d just gotten caught necking his girlfriend behind the bleachers by his father - and well…

Bradley cleared his throat and hoped his cheeks weren’t too red. “Captain Mitchell…”

They exchanged salutes, Maverick’s face all serious until Bradley could see him fighting a smile. There was a beat and then Bradley wrapped his arms around Mav in a tight hug.

“Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, Mav.”

He let Bradley go to look him over much like you had. It warmed his heart to be fussed over by his dad. To have the two most important people in his life be there to pick him up and bring him home.

“Come on you two, ice cream? My treat?”

You gasped. “Now Captain Mitchell, you wouldn’t be suggesting we spoil Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s dinner with ice cream, would you?”

Bradley hadn’t had ice cream in weeks. And a vanilla soft serve with chocolate jimmies sounded like absolute heaven right now. But as much as he wanted to have ice cream with you and Maverick like he was celebrating a little league baseball win, Bradley wanted to go home with you even more. He would see Mav during the week while you were at the office.

Right now, he just wanted to go home with his girl.

“Nah, I think we’re gonna head home. But I’ll take a raincheck for Monday?”

Mav nodded. “Sounds good to me, I’ll bring the car round then?”

“Sounds good, thanks!” you chirped.

Wait, what? Before Bradley could even question him, Maverick was off towards the parking lot - leaving you in his direct line of fire.

Which, to be fair, you did look contrite. “Pete thought it would be easier if he drove, especially with all the people around…”

And was Bradley really going to be mad at Maverick for caring too much? For wanting to spend time with his kid after he got home from a three month deployment? No. Not even at the expense of a twenty minute car ride home alone with you.

“I should’ve told you earlier he was driving, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You both started making your way to the gate again. “Probably gave him an excuse to take the rest of the afternoon off, too.”

You giggled. “I asked if he wanted to get lunch beforehand, but he said he was wrapping something up.”

Bradley’s stride momentarily faltered. Right, he forgot about that - your little lunch dates with Maverick. Was it a little annoying and did it make him irrationally jealous? Sure. But it was also oddly sweet. There were a lot worse things than having your girlfriend genuinely like hanging out with your dad. Plus, Bradley’s didn’t think you really knew you had a crush on him.

“I’m sure you two had plenty of time to catch up while I was gone, but now you’re all mine, kid.”

You wrapped your hands around his upper arm and gave it a squeeze. With a few nods at his fellow aviators and other assorted crew members, you two made it through the gate and to the parking lot where Maverick was waiting in his 1962 Ferrari 250 GTE.

Otherwise known both as the smallest car in the world and Bradley’s inheritance.

The car was in really good shape and drove like a dream. But it was very much not designed for a 6’1” naval aviator - especially when one was relegated to the back seat. Because Bradley didn’t want you to be in the back seat alone and you had refused to sit in the front.

So, now his knees were up to his shoulders and you two were separated by an armrest because the damn Italians hated fun and had foregone a bench seat.

Though this did not stop you from laying a cheeky hand on his knee, inching it higher and higher up his thigh as you crossed the Coronado Bridge. You glanced over at Bradley and winked, stopping yourself from getting higher by holding his hand instead.

It was never a long drive back to his - your house, but today it seemed to fly by ever faster. Maverick was unusually chatty in the front seat, asking about your upcoming trip and if you needed a ride to the airport on Thursday morning, while also telling Bradley about the newly renovated ready room on base.

The chatter petered off into the background as Bradley suddenly zeroed in on the song playing on the radio - Everlasting Love. He found himself mouthing the lyrics.

Need you by my side, girl you’ll be my bride

You’ll never be denied everlasting love

That was you. That was you and him. Everlasting love.

He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. And while you and Maverick chatted and told Bradley some of the more lighter happenings of the last three months - mainly the raccoon garage saga - he was counting down the minutes till it was just you and him. Peace and quiet with his everlasting love.

Which was really everything he could ever want.

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

After a long shower with all his favorite products and even some new ones you had brought over, Bradley made his way downstairs and was greeted with the unfairly adorable sight of you chopping potatoes at the kitchen island. There was music playing, candles lit, and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He smiled, seeing you wearing the apron he’d picked out for you all those months ago and was relieved to see that it looked broken in from wear. Because, to be honest, it was nearly impossible to pick out clothes for you.

Originally, Bradley had wanted to get you some frilly old thing, dainty and cute and proper if only to feed some long repressed kink of his. But the denim apron was practical and you would get use out of it for plenty more years to come.

And he could always get you another one for special occasions. Because he had had a lot of time to think about all those special occasions with you while he was away…

A beautiful smile lit up your face as you saw him pad down the stairs. “My, my, don't you look cozy?”

Once his socked-feet were firmly on the hardwood floor, Bradley spun on his heels showing off his comfy joggers and plain, grey t-shirt. “Do I pass muster?” He pressed a kiss to the cheek you tilted up for him.

“I’ll think you’ll do, bubs.” He pulled you in for a hug from behind. “Mmmmm, you smell so good.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms. “I should, I used all your shampoo…”

“Cheeky boy.” You craned your neck and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You want a drink while I make dinner? You can lay on the couch for a bit if you want? You must be exhausted.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t even considered going into the living room, not when you were in the kitchen. “Uhhh, sure, yeah. I’ll take a drink.”

You smiled and pulled back from him. “Old fashioned?” He nodded. You got out a rocks glass from the cabinet and went over to the bar cart in the dining room for the whiskey and bitters. “I got those fancy bitters at that liquor store you like.”

“Did you take care of everything?” He said it to hide his own reddened cheeks, but you appeared equally as bashful.

“Tried too.”

“You gonna have one, too?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but we’re also having wine with dinner, so just one for now - here you go. Got to start you off slow, Bradshaw.” You slid the glass over to him and held your own out to toast. “To your long awaited homecoming.”

Your eyes locked over the rim of your glasses and you had both barely set them back down on the table before Bradley pressed a kiss to your lips. You tasted like sugar and whiskey and felt like home.

“Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you, too, rocketman. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re home.” You kissed him again. “Now, you gotta let me finish cooking. The table’s already set, so there’s nothing for you to do, but relax.”

“Fine, fine,” he heaved out a great sigh, “banishing me already and I’ve only been home for a few hours, I see how it is - owww!” You smacked his ass with a dishtowel. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

The living room looked nearly identical to how it had when Bradley had left in December - minus the Christmas tree, of course - but there were still little touches of you everywhere. The pillows were arranged far nicer than Bradley had ever been able to manage and there were three new candles of differing heights on the coffee table. Plus, the cream colored cashmere blanket from your apartment that he always stole was artfully strewn across the back of one of the leather sofas.

With one glance back towards you in the kitchen - you were completely focused on some Russet potatoes - Bradley flopped onto the couch and tucked himself under the blanket. It was warm and cozy and so comfortable under there in his couch clothes in the house you two shared. Quiet, too, even with some Van Morrison playing from the kitchen. It was the kind of quiet that could lull Bradley to a peaceful sleep, especially after having been ensconced in constant noise for the last three months.

And he tried for half an hour - he really did. He thought of how excited you were to show him the perfectly organized closet and how you’d put all the little bits and bobs you’d gotten for him over the last three months in the guest room for him to look over at his leisure and how he’d corrected you on where the mail should go.

It was just - it was too quiet and too perfect and too comfy and he just wanted to be with you. Even if it meant sitting on one of the uncomfortable kitchen barstools.

You shook your head, but smiled as he approached. “You don’t have to watch me, you must be exhausted?”

Bradley shrugged. “Just wanna be near you, kid.” Were you nervous about cooking? Was that why you didn’t want him in the kitchen with you? He backtracked. “If that’s alright?”

You bit your lip and gestured for Bradley to sit at the island in front of you. There were a couple mise en place bowls laying around, but you quickly made room for Bradley and his drink.

“It’s like a taping of the Barefoot Contessa.”

You chuckled. “Let’s just hope the food’s as good as Ina’s.”

“Walk me through it.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you went back to mincing the garlic - with a glowing comment from Bradley on your newly acquired knife skills - and he just sat there, chin propped up on his hand watching you explain the next couple steps. You even got a yes, chef out of him when you asked him to turn the music down. The roasted potatoes smelled absolutely divine cooking in the oven and you had just finished snipping the ends off the asparagus when your demeanor suddenly changed. You fiddled with your apron tie and abruptly turned around to face him, looking almost surprised by the action, though you wouldn’t exactly look him in the eye.

“Actually, now that you’re here - or here at the table,” you huffed out a laugh, “there’s something I want to talk to you about that happened while you were gone - no, that’s not - something I was thinking about while you were gone?”

You put the burner down on the sauce pan, leaving the minced garlic to simmer before you were facing Bradley yet again. You looked nervous, unsure of yourself, as you played with the bracelet he had gotten you for Christmas. Had something happened while he was gone that you hadn’t told him about? Were you sick? Hurt? Was there someone - no, no, you’d never.

Bradley leaned back in his chair and hoped he sounded surer than he felt. “Sure, uhh, yeah, go ahead.”

“It actually has to do with some emails I sent you - last week, in particular. One of them is actually that email.” You looked down at the granite countertop as Bradley tried to think of which email would constitute italics. “But I also want to talk about one of the other emails, when I messaged you about that dream I had and kind of how that all falls into everything that we’ve been going through and probably will be going through -”

“- Because this is it,” he interrupted. Because you and I are it.

“Yeah. Because this is it,” you returned, equally as resolute. “So…”

Bradley sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. “Which one do you want to talk about first?”

You fiddled with your apron bow. “Maybe the one from the thirteenth?”

“Which one was that?”

Now you definitely were avoiding looking at him. Your words came out slowly, like you dreaded saying them and Bradley had a sudden inkling that he knew exactly which email you were referencing.

“The one about me needing you. Needing you to take care of me,” you whispered the last part.

He could feel his cheeks coloring. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

Bradley had never received an email like that before. Had never even received a text like that before. It was just so raw and almost animalistic the way your need for him jumped off the page.

nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as it’s yours.

“I shouldn’t have sent that one to you - especially since if I could’ve waited five more days, none of this would’ve happened. It’s just - I needed you so badly and wanted you - ugh, no! No, I shouldn’t have sent you that email. It wasn’t proper, it was embarrassing for you and me and I was just missing you so much and in such a different way that I’ve never experienced before when you’d been gone and - I couldn’t bear not telling you for another moment. Because no one was there to tell me what to do or -”

You threw your hands out and put them on the top of your head. God, it looked like you were about to cry. And it broke Bradley’s heart. He pushed his barstool back from the island and padded over towards you.

“Come ‘ere, kid.”

You let out a sigh and your eyes were swimming with tears as you fell into Bradley’s arms. You felt small in his arms - not necessarily in the physical sense, but like you were folding in on yourself. He needed to take care of you - take you, take you, take you -

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, whenever you want, it’s fine.” Bradley pressed a kiss to your forehead and squeezed you tighter. You held on to him tightly, which muffled your next words.

“I’ve never had someone who I need in that way. And it’s not even necessarily about the sex, itself. I could go months without having sex - had before I met you. It was never something I really needed to get by, I guess? I could take care of it on my own.

“But then - then I met you and you just? You make me need you - make me crave you, you tell me what to do, make me want to please you. And then you just leave for three months and I have to learn how to do all that on my own and it was just so hard? It felt like I dropped? Like everything caught up to me after all those months and weeks and I felt scared and lonely and needy and desperate for you and for you to tell me I’m a good girl and take care of me and be my d - be dominant with me.”

Your breathing quickened as you talked and Bradley felt you getting more worked up. He rubbed his hands across your back, hoping it would soothe the ache inside of you, if only a little bit. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kid.”

i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley

You sniffled. “I guess I just didn’t think - I mean, I knew other people would see it - and I did think that was kind of hot, especially when you called me out for it - it was only after, when I’d realized what I’d done that I saw how embarrassing it was for you.

“Like Joe from Comms being like hey, did you know Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s girlfriend is a horny, pathetic, subby mess for him? You gotta see it, man. She couldn’t even make it three months without getting fucked. He can’t even take care of his g -”

“- Stop it.” Bradley grabbed your chin. “You know that’s not true.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But I was already feeling shitty about my mom and being so busy at work and how I loo -” you broke off and Bradley desperately wanted you to finish the thought. “I guess it all caught up to me.”

“But I wrote back. I wrote back and told you everything I wanted you to hear and what you needed to hear. And god, I’d do it again, I’d do it in a heartbeat if it brought you comfort and I probably should’ve done it sooner.”

nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do

You squeezed your arms around his stomach and breathed him in. God, he loved you so much, he’d say anything and do anything to make you realize that.

“I needed it, what you wrote me, and I needed to tell you what I said, but I should’ve waited so, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, kid. You message me when you need me, no matter how.” He kissed your temple. “I know we’ve never really talked about how that part of our relationship would work while I was gone, so maybe next time we just make a plan?”

You nodded. “I’d like that. I know it’s not like that all the time between us, so I didn’t even think of it before you left.”

“I hadn’t either,” he confessed.

Long distance d/s relationship reddit would be Bradley’s best friend over the next few days. Neither of you would have to go through that again, not if he had something to say about it. The whole idea of not being allowed to use anything besides your fingers to masturbate was a good start, but it was just that - a start. Because like you’d said, you two weren’t in that dynamic all the time, but you both needed it. It was new for both of you. You’d just have to come up with a list together.

But just to give you a little encouragement in the meantime…

“And let’s not forget…” You peered up at him. “You did tell me you read my email seven times…”

You giggled and shoved his shoulder. “Might’ve been an understatement.”

“Oh?”

“I think I came three times that first night alone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhm.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and played with the ends of his hair. “‘Kept picturing you in your bunk writing it while fisting your cock. And then I was laying next to you in your bunk - and it had to be a secret. I had to keep quiet - just like at Thanksgiving - and not make a peep.”

“But you don’t like to be quiet…”

He crowded you against the island and rolled his hips against yours. The thin fabric of his joggers did little to hide how much he desired you, especially after the conversation you’d just had.

His subby little girlfriend. God, he couldn’t wait to take you apart bit by bit later.

Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl.

Though, that’s not to say that you couldn’t partake in a little preview now. Bradley’s lips crashed against yours, caught up in the furor and headiness of it all, and your body melted against his. Three months later and you still responded so well to him. Your breathy little sighs as he bit your lip and pressed countless kisses along your jawline and neck sounded like heaven. You smelled so sweet, tasted so sweet, felt so sweet - he kissed you again, coaxing your mouth back open.

“Bradley, bubs, I -” you gasped against his lips, “I need to turn the stove off if we’re going to -”

Without taking his lips off yours, Bradley reached behind his back and turned off the gas burner. The garlic still sizzled in the pan, but now without the risk of burning the house down. You could put fresh garlic on later, now he just wanted you.

His hands went back to their place on your hips before the left slid underneath your oxford and up your body. You stiffened slightly, but welcomed his touch, if only for a moment before you pulled back from him.

“We have to - I have to finish dinner.” He nodded, albeit reluctantly. You pecked his lips again.

There was something deeply erotic about waiting - even if it was just for a couple of hours.

Where are you going to have me first?

In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen.

Bradley cleared his throat. “You said you wanted to talk about another email? The one about your dream, right? The one with our kid.”

It felt right saying it - our kid.

God, Bradley, I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know you’re real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you

“We can wait until dinner - or even after dinner, if you want?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I’m sorry I’m dropping all this on you. I know you’ll say otherwise, but I shouldn’t have done this right when you came home - the dryer hasn’t even finished your first load yet. I know you’re exhausted and definitely have your own stuff to work through after being gone and we should be having sex on the floor or over the arm of the couch, not listening to me blubber -”

Bradley shook his head and interrupted you. He didn’t want to give you another moment to doubt yourself.

“- Hey, hey. I wanna talk about the heavy stuff with you, it’s okay. And I’d rather we do it now so we can really enjoy these next few days together - and maybe then have sex on the floor and over the arm of the couch. I don’t want this hanging over your head, kid.

“And you’re not alone in thinking about that over the last few months - it’s probably been even longer for me…”

You wiped at the tears pooling in your eyes. “Really?”

“You know you’re it for me, kid.” Have been since our fourth date went unsaid. “So, come on, walk me through it.”

You leaned against the back counter near the stove, while Bradley mirrored you against the island. You sighed.

“I love you so much - sometimes I’m scared that I love you this much and that it’s not quite been a year since we met. And I never thought I’d be so heart achingly in love with someone in the Navy, of all things, and just - sometimes it hits me that you’re not even fully mine? That a part of you will always want to be in the sky or out at sea because you have this other entity that tells you what to do? And when to do it and what to wear and how you should act? Where you’re Rooster and not my Bradley?”

Bradley frowned at the use of his callsign coming from your lips. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t sound right. He didn’t want to be Rooster around you. He liked that he didn’t have to be Rooster around you.

“And it makes me absolutely crazy because you love it and you’re not going to stop - and you shouldn’t stop, not for me! But, god, Bradley, sometimes I want to shake you and hold you down and beg you to stay. Like that fucking story.” You wiped your eyes.

“It’s all I wanted to tell you when I had that dream. About how I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know it’s selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here. I don’t want you looking at the sky when you’re here and wanting to be up there. And I know you don’t either, Bradley. You give everything to everyone, you don’t do things by halves.”

You both stood there, Bradley stunned by your words, and you, seemingly stunned that you’d actually said them. He took a step towards you, but didn’t cross that final barrier to touch you. He remembered highlighting a particular passage from the story in his response back to you and how he never wanted you to feel the same way as Lily. He didn’t want to let it - flying, the Navy, all of it get a hold of him.

“Don’t ever be a Rocket Man.” I stopped. “I mean it,” he said. “Because when you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. Don’t start that. Don’t let it get hold of you.” “But-“ “You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, If I ever get back to Earth I’ll stay there; I’ll never go out again. But I go out, and I guess I’ll always go out.”

You sniffled and wiped your eyes on your sleeve. “And I was so scared when you didn’t get back to me right away. Thought I’d scared you off…” You glanced down at the floor and played with your bracelet. It looked so fragile and dainty on your wrist. “I think I wrote five different responses to you after - deleted all of them.”

Bradley nudged your foot with his own and got you to look up at him. Even though it felt like his tattoo was burning into his skin - xxxix, xxxix, xxxix, the number ran through his head constantly as of late - he tried to put on a brave face. Everything you were saying was what he had been mulling over for the last three months. Thousands of miles apart and you both were still so in-sync. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“You turned my life on its head when you sent me that story.” Even weeks later, he was still in disbelief. “And I know it wouldn’t have changed anything - not really - but I kept - I keep wondering how my dad would’ve reacted to it? Or my mom? I don’t think it would’ve made anything different, but just knowing about it? Because I don’t want us to have kids and still be a ‘rocket man.’ I don’t want them - that little boy in your dream - to wonder if I want to be up in the sky more than I want to be with him. And be with you. I want to be around, I want to be their dad and your husband. I love it, I love flying. But I don’t love it more than being with you and having a family with you. I don’t want to die in an F18 with a family at home.”

You let out a sob and he wrapped his arms around you and slowly swayed you from side to side. “Kid, I got six more years and then I’m all yours.” He could feel your tears seeping into his shirt as you cried. “It’s like what I said after you sent me that story - I don’t want our kids chasing ghosts. Not like I did.”

“You’d give us your wild?” you whispered.

Bradley nodded and felt his own eyes welling up. “I want us to have what my mom and I didn’t. And it’s not that my mom wasn’t enough, but there was always a piece missing for both of us - Maverick, too.” You wiped the tears away from his eyes. “I love you, so, so much, kid. You know I’m gonna marry you. And I just want to be yours when it comes time for us to have a family.”

Honestly, it was a relief that you’d brought all this up. It only reaffirmed the thought that had been bouncing around Bradley’s head lately.

You two wouldn’t have kids until he was out of the Navy.

There were six years until Bradley could put in his twenty years and retire. It was a little fucked, honestly, and he was sure his therapist would have plenty to say about it. But why not avoid something that could end in tragedy for everyone involved?

Why run the risk?

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

And he knew his logic wasn’t exactly sound. It didn’t entirely make sense even to himself. There would be plenty of times over the next six years where he could get into an accident or not come home from a mission. He understood that.

Except, currently, there wasn’t a kid waiting at home for him. There wasn’t a three year old Bradley waiting at home and being told by his mom that his dad wasn’t coming home. He knew that if you had a family, it would be harder for you to move on if something happened to him. And he didn’t want to put you and any future little nuggets through that. He didn’t want to be a rocketman with them.

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He wasn’t going to do that to your family. So, why not just wait to have a family until after he got out of the Navy? It seemed obvious. Perfectly so. The words had been ready to pour out of his mouth, except you beat him to it.

“I know,” your cleared the scratchiness out of your throat, “we talked about waiting to have kids until a couple years after we get married, but if you want to wait until you retire, we’ll do it. And then we’ll get all of you. I want to do everything with you, Bradley.”

Give you my wild, give you a child.

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed you hard. “I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead and cheeks and lips and tried his damndest to pour all the love he had for you into it.

“I love you, too, Bradley,” you said simply.

And maybe it wasn’t exactly healthy to wait and almost be consumed by this desperate need to control both your lives and have a countdown clock to when everything would be okay. Because maybe things wouldn’t be okay in six years? And maybe you and Bradley would get in a car accident tomorrow or maybe you both would have trouble having kids or or or…

But Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He would need to talk about this with his therapist at some point. The therapist the Navy gave him eighteen months ago after he ‘recklessly’ went back to save Maverick. The therapist that he just never stopped seeing even though he was cleared from last April.

“We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?” Bradley asked after a moment.

You pulled back. “Maybe? And maybe it’s a little extreme for both of us to think like that, but we’ll make it work, okay? However we have to, we’ll make it work for us.” You punctuated your words with a quick kiss over his heart.

“Oh dear,” you said suddenly. Bradley tensed up. “I got tears on your shirt.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, I know you can afford to get me a new one.” You shoved his shoulder and you both laughed. And just like that, the mood was lifted.

Bradley had been right earlier - he felt lighter. You looked lighter. And that wasn’t to say that you’d looked gloomy or upset or scared before, but your shoulders weren’t as tense and you kept smiling, at him, at whatever you were cooking, at nothing.

This could be his life every night. You could be together like this forever. Cooking dinner side by side, talking about where the mail should go (it very much was not on the hall table, that was for damn sure), complaining about Mr. Harrington next door or arguing over who should vacuum. All the little things that made that big life together. The one you both wanted so badly.

And contrary to your earlier statement, you did make you and Bradley another drink before dinner. In fact, it probably was what gave you the courage to attempt to flip the chicken in the saucepan like a regular José Andrés. (Even more surprising was the fact that you didn’t drop any.)

Once the potatoes finished, you swapped them in the oven for the asparagus, hoping the former would cool while the latter was roasting. All the while, you talked Bradley through everything - how much oil you added to the asparagus, where you’d gotten the potatoes, and the recipe for the chocolate cake you’d made for dessert.

It was - well, Bradley didn’t really have a word for what it was. His first thought was how nice it was seeing you so confident and capable and proud of yourself. But his second thought was that it was also oddly stirring seeing you do all this for him while he just watched.

Watched his pretty little girlfriend bopping around the kitchen, bopping around the house making sure everything was perfect for him. All you needed was a pretty little dress and a string of pearls to match your earrings. His pretty little housewife. Mrs Bradshaw. Bent over the kitchen island, wearing nothing but a frilly white apron and a pearl necklace as he fucked you from behind -

“All set!” Your cheerful voice interrupted Bradley’s fantasy before it could really start. He had zoned out while you’d been prattling on about the herb cutting scissors you wanted to get at Crate & Barrel. “Shall we?”

Bradley readjusted himself before getting up from his seat and helping you bring the drinks and serving dishes into the dining room.

Mrs Bradshaw.

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

“So, how is it?” you asked once the food had been served and the wine had been poured. You had your chin propped up on your fist as you watched Bradley take the first few, slow bites of food.

It was good. It was more than good, it was excellent. It was hot and perfectly seasoned and all the textures were just right. And it wasn’t just because he’d been on an aircraft carrier, eating out of the officer’s mess everyday. Because the food was actually pretty good on the carrier and the Aussies had even treated him to a couple meals.

But he wouldn’t be Bradley and you wouldn’t be you if he didn’t mess with you a little. He tilted his head back and forth, trying to look like he was mulling it over. “It’s good…”

You nudged his foot under the table once you saw the smile threatening to break out on his face. “You ass.” The words lacked any heat.

Bradley took another bite of potatoes before speaking. “It’s really good, kid, seriously. You killed it. Seemed like you really enjoyed it, too.”

“I did,” you nodded, “I just always used to be so nervous I’d undercook something and make everyone sick, you know? Or that people would be lying to me about the food and that it was burnt or under-seasoned or something? But those lessons really helped and made me more confident, which is exactly why you gave them to me, so thank you.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly why he had given them to you, but…

“You’re very welcome.”

Dinner continued on with only light hearted conversation after that. What Reuben and Bob were planning for their leave (Reuben and his wife were going up the coast for a mini-break and then building out the nursery for their baby, while Bob was going home to see his parents), the work you had to finish up before your trip, and what you both were hoping to get out of your vacation (good food, a tan, reading plenty of books, and having copious amounts of sex).

All the while, Bradley had another helping of everything, except the potatoes, of which he had two additional helpings - you refrained from seconds entirely. You two must have sat at the table for over two and a half hours, talking and eating and laughing. It was perfect. Bradley helped you bring the dishes back into the kitchen; both of you were more than happy to deal with them a little later.

And then there was the dessert. The chocolate cake looked heavenly - Ina’s recipe, of course - and you asked Bradley if he wanted an espresso martini to wash it down.

“What? ‘You trying to get me drunk?”

You put your hand over your heart. “I would never! Though, I know your tolerance might be a little shot. Did that affect your stamina, too?”

“Ha, ha, ha hilarious.” He took the cake plate and knife from you while you went over to the bar to make the martinis. “I’ll have you know that the Aussies were very accommodating hosts.”

“The Aussies, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. It wouldn’t be an issue to tell you now, not after he’d been dying to mention it for the past few weeks. “It’s not classified or anything, they just don’t like us talking about it in the moment.”

“Wait,” you came back into the dinning room with a coupe half filled in your right hand. “Did you go to Australia?”

“Possibly…” You shot him a look. “We do this joint training exercise with them every year. Last year was my first year.”

“That’s so cool! Did you spend much time actually on land or…” You went back to preparing the drinks and tossed your next question over your shoulder. “When was it? I think I saw something about it in the news.”

“After you got back from London. It was just a week for the actual exercise, but there were a lot of meetings in the lead up, we did a couple war-games, too. We were mainly in New South Wales with the aviators, but went up to the North Western Territory for the actual exercises.”

Last year, Bradley hadn’t had the opportunity to really get too involved in the planning aspects and being on base - his promotion hadn’t come through yet, so he had been just a lowly lieutenant - but his elevated rank granted him that privilege this year.

“Wait, that’s so cool, I’ll have to read up on it more! I definitely remember hearing about it on the news, should’ve made the connection.” You came back over with the drinks. “How were the other pilots? This isn’t going to be some Manchurian Candidate bullshit, is it?”

Bradley barked out a laugh. “Nah, that’ll be Bob.”

“Did it have a fun name? They always seem to!”

Bradley took a sip of his martini. Damn it was delicious. “Exercise Talisman Sabre - R-E. You want me to cut the cake?”

You nodded. Bradley pulled the cake stand closer to his seat. The cake was stunning. The frosting was definitely homemade and the white piping on the top looked perfect. “‘You take a picture of it yet?”

“Of the cake?”

“Gotta commemorate this, it’s gorgeous. Need one with you, too!” You smiled bashfully as Bradley snapped a couple pics with his phone and then put it face-up on the table. The picture of the two of you at your Christmas party before his deployment smiled back up at him.

You sat back down in your chair. “Here’s hoping it tastes just as good.”

There would still be plenty of cake for leftovers, but Bradley thought the two of you deserved a little something extra tonight and measured the first piece a little bigger than he normally would.

“Oh. You can have that one. I’ll take a smaller piece.” He went to cut another piece, slightly smaller than his. “Little smaller.” He kept scooching the knife closer and closer for your approval until it was only about a third of the size of his piece. “That’s perfect, thanks.”

You took a huge first bite of cake and Bradley did the same. “Oh, god. It’s so good,” he said. “I need the recipe so I can make this every week.”

Your fork froze midair for a moment, before you took a slightly smaller piece this time. “I don’t know if I can handle this every week...” You chuckled.

Bradley moaned. “But the ganache! The whipped frosting on the top! Sweetheart, it’s so good. The world cannot be deprived of its beauty.”

That got a proper laugh out of you. “‘You writing sonnets about cake now?”

“I’ll write sonnets about you, this cake, anything you want, you got me in a good mood, kid.” He licked the frosting off his fork and then went back in for the final two bites.

“That might just be the martini talking, bubs. Here,” you slid your barely eaten plate over towards him, “you can have the rest of mine.”

Bradley frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I had extra batter and made some cupcakes. Had one this morning. I’m chocolate cake’d out.”

He was a little dubious since you loved chocolate cake, but took your words at face value.

“But first,” you swiped some extra frosting off your plate and streaked it across Bradley’s cheek, “you got a little something on your face, bubs.”

“Oh no,” he laid it on thick, “guess you’ll have to come over here and help me clean it off.”

In a flash, you were on him - arms wrapped around his neck, legs astride his thigh. Your feet remained firmly on the ground, but Bradley wanted all your weight on him, reminding him that he was here in the house you shared and not back in his bunk on the carrier.

“There we go.” You swiped the frosting off his cheek and sucked the excess off your finger. “My pretty boy again.”

He smiled. “You say that like you haven’t wanted to fuck me since we got home.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. “I’m trying to draw out the anticipation!” Bradley squeezed your hips and you shifted your weight on his thigh. This time your words came out quieter. “Thought you wanted me in our bed the first time back?” You pressed light kisses across his neck and jawline until you nipped at his ear. “The same bed I’ve been getting myself off in every night since I brought my stuff over.”

“But just like I asked, right? Just your fingers?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You ducked your head at the praise and then pulled yourself even closer to him before capturing his lips in a deep kiss. You tasted like espresso and chocolate and Bradley wanted to take you right there on the dining room table with little regard for the state of his stem and dish-ware. Slowly, you rocked your body on his lap and let out a breathy gasp against his lips. The seam on your jeans must have been driving you absolutely crazy, but you didn’t let up. And, frankly, Bradley didn’t want you to - all he wanted right now was to keep kissing you, keep pressing his chest against yours, keep grabbing at your hips over your shirt. Except that soon wasn’t enough.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt and went straight for your lace bra. He smiled against your lips. Good girl. You wore his favorite one. His hand slid lower to drag his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach and side. God, you were so warm. So soft. But he couldn’t linger on the spot for too long after you pushed his hand away and gestured for him to get up.

Without separating yourselves for too long, you and Bradley made your way from making out on his dining table chair to making out on the couch. You were on your back, half wedged between the back cushion, and entirely under Bradley’s bulk.

God, had he missed this. Touching you, kissing you, holding you, fucking you. You’d already talked for hours, now he wanted to kiss you for them.

The couch felt ten times more inviting with you now than it had earlier in the evening when it had just been Bradley. Because now he had you underneath him with your head on the throw pillows he had made note of earlier, now the candles on the coffee table were lit and were the perfect complement to your perfume, and now the cashmere blanket he had always loved was half draped over you both.

This was where you’d watch movies together at night, where you’d open Christmas presents, where you’d ride him after a long day at work, where you’d have meals with the news on in the background, where your kids would watch TV.

“I love you,” you rasped against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeated.

It could have been twenty minutes or an hour later, but now the two of you were just laying side by side on the couch. You were wrapped in Bradley’s arms, nestled against his chest, where you had been pressing little kisses against his neck for the last five minutes. Occasionally, you’d play with the ends of his hair or drag your finger across the scars on his neck.

Bradley pressed a light kiss to your temple. “This has been really nice, thank you. I’ve never had someone to come home to - not like this.”

You tilted your head up and bit your lip, looking adorably flustered. “I always want to be here when you come home. And I wanted to do something nice for you, make you happy.”

“You made me very happy, always do.”

“Always, huh?” you teased. You kissed his neck. Nipped at his neck.

Bradley mimicked your tone. “Well, not when I saw the way you put the mail on the hall table…”

“You gonna punish me?” There was a little glint in your eyes as you said it.

While the idea had plenty of merit, Bradley didn’t want that tonight, he wanted everything to be soft and slow, so he could really get his fill of you. Plus, you’d be so fucking tight for him, so responsive to his touch, he wanted to make that drag out as long as possible. He wanted you to babble, he wanted you to beg.

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow if you’re good for me?” He pinched your side and you let out a giggle and then suddenly sat up on the couch, almost startled.

“I should do the dishes, don’t want to leave them for too long. You can head upstairs, though.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he said the last word through a yawn.

“Nope!” You smiled over your shoulder and headed off to the kitchen. “You’re off the hook. I’m gonna finish putting these in the dishwasher and lock-up while you go upstairs and get ready, okay?”

Bradley scrunched his nose. “Is this gonna be a normal thing? You doing all the housework? Because that’s not gonna slide, roomie.”

“Oh, so I’m just your roommate now?” you teased. You bent over the dishwasher to put some larger plates in the back. “I see how it is, Bradshaw.”

He doubled back over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Got a feeling you’re gonna be my last one,” he murmured against your neck before he pressed kisses against it.

It was like you melted against him. God, you smelled so pretty and tasted so pretty and looked so pretty and sounded so pretty giggling. And Bradley had never felt so welcomed home before. He couldn’t wait to do this with you every night.

“Bradley,” you sighed and turned around to face him. “The sooner you let me finish, the sooner I can come upstairs…” You pecked him on the lips.

Upstairs. Where Bradley would take care of you.

Take care of you. Take you. Take you take you take you -

He groaned and gave you a longer kiss. “Okay, okay, okay.” He kissed you between each word. “But this is the last time you’re getting away with this...”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You kissed him again. “Now go! Get into something comfortable, powder your nose, touch up your hair -”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he promised. “Don’t be too long, we can always do everything tomorrow morning.”

You waved him off good-naturedly and went about setting the kitchen to rights. Bradley smiled at the sight of you already appearing so at home in his house - your house and headed upstairs. With startling alacrity despite the numerous drinks he’d had and the late hour, Bradley quickly brushed his teeth, did his skincare routine, and turned down the bed for your arrival.

Even a floor apart, he could still hear the sounds of you puttering around downstairs. If he concentrated really hard, he could imagine exactly what you were doing.

You had just opened the silverware drawer, probably had just washed and dried something - oh right, he had noticed you used the hand-wash-only salad tongs for the asparagus. Then you opened the tupperware cabinet and got out some snapware and eventually opened the freezer, putting the leftover chicken piccata away for another meal. Then there was the sound of the cake plate on the granite countertop and more snapware. He was still surprised you hadn’t eaten much cake, much of any of the food really, but chalked it up to nerves or excitement at his homecoming.

With a sigh, Bradley laid back against the fluffy pillows lining the headboard. God, he had missed this. His high thread count sheets, your fancy Laundress detergent, his side of the bed - and more importantly, you being on the other side. He stretched and let out a groan, getting comfortable.

This was perfect. He was home - in the house you now shared. You were going to come upstairs - probably in some cute little outfit - and give him a proper welcome home. Bradley bet you even got a new matching set just for the occasion. The two of you had gotten all the tough conversations out of the way - for the most part - so now you could really enjoy these next few days together before your trip.

And Bradley was so excited to go to Punta Mita with you. You had done such an amazing job planning everything. He had done some additional research on his flight home earlier and definitely wanted to hit up the spa and maybe sneak in a round of golf over the ten day trip. Plus, you definitely had the cutest fucking outfits planned. He always liked that, imagining what you were wearing while he was gone. The sporadic pictures hadn’t been enough. You always looked so pretty and he always needed to tell you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. His pretty girlfriend. Downstairs, making sure everything was all set. He yawned. Mmmmm, he hoped you’d be upstairs soon. His eyelids were getting heavy.

And it was so warm and comfy and his stomach was full and everything smelled so good and he was here.

Finally, he was here with you.

In your house, talking about your future.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes. Maybe if he just took a quick nap…

a/n - sorry for the cliff hanger, but it's the PERFECT spot for a break! next part will have that first night back AND the lead up to their trip, which will be in the final part! couldn't have gotten this done without all the encouraging messages and texts over the last few weeks - special shout out to @sometimesanalice @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @cherrycola27 @heartsofminds and @greenorangevioletgrass xxjordan

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun imagine #rooster x reader #bradley fic

151 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Day eleven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

So Tim may’ve accidentally taken Superboy on a very public coffee date in Metropolis that hopefully no one sold paparazzi photos of and then slightly less accidentally asked him out on a shopping date in Gotham by doubling down on the “fashion show” joke, which he intends to spend gently wearing Kon down into having vast amounts of money spent on him by a grateful “stranger”. Kon didn't ever actually ask him how a Gothamite high schooler tracked down a Metropolis superhero to begin with, which is another thing to make sure to mention in the superhero stranger danger refresher course but is currently doing Tim a lot of favors.

The situation isn't anything serious, anyway; just a little bit of friendly flirting. Kon's always flirting with someone new, after all, and Tim's fine with the idea of being an experiment for a date or two while he wheedles his way into rearranging Kon's entire life and reducing Cadmus to a smoldering pit and stocking up on anti-Superman weaponry. Actually he's probably a little too fine with that idea, but never mind that.

Tim’s plotting how to most effectively convince Kon to let him buy him things without overwhelming him and scaring him off, which is a bit complicated since Kon’s socialization has been pretty weird, but that just makes it a better thought exercise anyway. Like a handicap in chess, kind of.

As are the constant interruptions, because he’s currently doing said plotting in the Justice Cave, which means everyone’s been running in and out all afternoon and pestering him to come do increasingly ludicrous things with the rest of them. Most recently, Bart and Suzie had sixteen different Kool-Aid packets and a small armory’s worth of super-soakers and water guns. Tim had decided to take the better part of valor and not ask.

Kon comes in after a few minutes dripping a rainbow and smelling like pink lemonade, so Tim is pretty sure he chose correctly on that one.

“So Kool-Aid comes in way more flavors than I actually realized,” Kon says conversationally, plucking at his soaked-through S-shield. Tim just raises an eyebrow at him, even if the mask mutes the expression a little. He heroically does not notice how said S-shield is currently clinging to Kon’s very nice pecs like wet cellophane. Or anywhere else his costume is clinging, while he’s at it.

That costume is very, very thoroughly soaked. Bart and Suzie must’ve caught him by surprise, otherwise he’d have probably kept himself from getting quite that soaked with his TTK. At least, Tim assumes he could’ve done that, considering.

“I realize Impulse is incredibly determined when he gets an idea in his head, but how did you get that wet?” Tim says. “I thought they just had regular water guns.”

“Bart turned up a pack of balloons somewhere,” Kon explains dryly–no pun intended.

Well, that explains it, Tim supposes.

“So is the whole base flooded, or . . . ?” he trails off. Kon snorts, raking his wet curls back off his forehead. Tim wants to lick the splattered black cherry Kool-Aid off the perfect arch of his cheekbone and stick his hands in his jacket pockets. He also wants to preserve his personal dignity and professionalism and appropriate level of distance as the leader, though.

“I’d start collecting two of every Super-Cycle if I were you,” Kon advises. Tim doesn’t laugh, because that wouldn’t be very professional of him, but he lets the corner of his mouth quirk up a little.

“How many Super-Cycles do you think there are?” he says.

“Two, if it’s up to Bart and the great Kool-Aid flood,” Kon says, then glances back over his shoulder for a moment like he’s checking for something. Tim assumes he’s keeping an eye out for Bart and Suzie, though he should really know Bart’s going to outpace him no matter what, so it's not like he's going to be able to dodge him or–“Hey. Can I ask you a favor, man?”

“A favor?” Tim blinks, a little nonplussed. “What kind of favor?”

“A Bat kind of favor,” Kon says, stepping a little farther into the room. “Uh. If it’s not too weird.”

“What do you need?” Tim asks, his attention sharpening. A Bat kind of favor implies Kon needs help with a supervillain or at least a criminal, though if he does need backup he’s not sure why he’s asking just him and not the whole team, that seems–

“I need you to look somebody up for me and make sure he’s not, I don’t know, a creep or a supervillain or a supervillain creep,” Kon says, folding his arms and looking a little awkward about it. “Like I don’t care if he’s maybe related to some supervillain creeps or something, that’s whatever, I just care if he’s one. And he’s from Gotham, he said, so I figured it wouldn’t be too much out of your way anyway.”

Tim blinks. Tilts his head. Is Kon . . .

“His name’s Tim Drake,” Kon says. “Or that’s what he told me his name was, anyway. Again, he might be a supervillain or something, so who knows.”

Tim . . . blinks.

“I can do that,” he says, and–because he can’t help himself and also could use the intel anyway–“Why do you think he might be a supervillain?”

Kon's face turns pink. Just barely, but still noticeably.

“I just do,” he says, tightening his arms. “Just, uh–I don’t know.”

Tim may’ve possibly made too many supervillain jokes at the café, he’s realizing. Or maybe he’d just looked too desperately thirsty when Kon had joked about him recruiting him for his evil plans. His plans aren’t even evil, okay, they’re just rational. And his actual recruitment strategy doesn’t have anything to do with anybody wearing a crop top, either! The crop tops were Kon’s idea!

Still, Kon’s asking him to look up Tim Drake for him, and at least he actually is bothering to look up Tim Drake, so that could be worse. One less point to go over in the superhero stranger danger refresher course. Tim isn’t sure why Kon's only concerned now, but at least he's being careful.

“Okay,” Tim says, figuring it's not a big deal either way. If Kon's asking him to check himself out, then all he has to do is provide him with just enough information to make him feel comfortable accepting money from him without worrying about who he might be accepting money from. And rent. And clothes and groceries and bills and–

Well, literally everything, ideally. Just, like–literally every single thing he can get Kon to accept, Tim's intending to give him. An apartment or a condo or a freaking house, if that's what Kon wants. Maybe a cul-de-sac, even. Tim's not above buying him a cul-de-sac. It'd take a little extra bank fraud, probably, but that's just more supervillain practice anyway.

Kon deserves a stupid cul-de-sac, at this point. Kon deserves a whole neighborhood at this point.

Tim could arrange that, probably. Especially once he's officially a supervillain, but also just like in general. Again, it'd just take a little bit of bank fraud at the most.

“Thanks,” Kon says, shifting his weight a little anxiously, for some reason.

“It's no problem,” Tim replies with a shrug. “I mean, it's probably just paranoia, given our propensity to run into supervillains. I wouldn't worry about it “

“Whatever,” Kon says with a shrug, looking–bothered, a little. Tim represses a frown, watching him consideringly.

“You don't think you're being paranoid,” he translates. “Why?”

“Uh, because . . . people don’t try to just hang out with me, usually,” Kon replies with an uncomfortable shrug, jamming his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Not like this guy is, I mean. Usually they . . . want something, you know? Like to meet Superman or get in the tabloids or, uh, steal my DNA and make an asshole with a superiority complex out of it. But I don’t know what this guy wants at all. He just paid for my lunch and asked to hang out again. And like, all I did was save his ass from some dumbass robber, so it wasn't like it was a big deal or anything.”

“Oh,” Tim says. That’s . . . an incredibly depressing answer, okay. Like . . . incredibly depressing. Wow. “Okay. I'll look into him and get back to you.”

“Thanks,” Kon says again, looking restless, then puts on a slightly forced grin. “It's no big, just keeping an eye out for stupid spy shit or weird undercover types, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, watching him for a long moment. The answer is still incredibly depressing. Nothing that Kon has said has made it any less depressing. Actually, it's just kind of making it worse.

A lot worse.

“Thanks,” Kon says again, odd and abrupt, and then suddenly zips out of the room. He left Kool-Aid stains on the floor and they're going to get sticky, but Tim is a little bit too distracted to be annoyed by that fact.

Kon's never asked him to look somebody up for him before. They haven't been teammates that long, so that's not a surprise, but it does make Tim wonder who he asks normally. Actually, does he ask anyone normally, or did Tim just fuck up somewhere here and make Kon suspicious enough to ask a favor from a Bat?

Fuck, he hopes not. That'll make it way harder to convince Kon to let him buy him a cul-de-sac.

Tim goes back to his previous Kon-related plotting and also takes half an hour to type up a “report” on himself for him. Just the basics, nothing too damning or too invasive or too interesting. Definitely nothing to connect him to Bruce, for obvious reasons. Better safe than sorry and all, since he's decided to take the risk of involving his civilian identity with Kon.

Honestly, he probably should've used this as a template for Caroline Hill. Put her in a situation and given Kon the opportunity to save her. He probably would've responded better to an older girl than a guy his own age anyway, considering.

Tim's still surprised Kon responded to Tim Drake at all, considering. But maybe he really does just flirt with every civilian, no matter who he's really attracted to or not. That seems like something Kon would do.

Really, for all Tim knows, Kon only flirted with Tim Drake to begin with because he didn't know how else to talk to him.

Actually, considering how few civilian guys he's seen him talk to, that's probably actually true, isn't it.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

305 notes · View notes

coldflashevents · 2 months

Text

EVENT ANNOUNCEMENT

Hello, all!

I'd like to thank everyone for submitting and voting on their favourite prompts for our Coldflash Mini Weekend Event in April. Voting is now closed, and I’m pleased to announce our prompts for the event based on the most popular suggestions.

The winning prompts are…

Day 1:

I thought I lost you

Secret relationship

Day 2:

Time travel shenanigans

Accidental dating/didn’t know they were dating

Bonus Prompt (post on either day):

Alternate Earths

The dates for the event are April 27th and 28th.

You can write fanfiction, draw fan art, create a mood board or a playlist, a fan video, or any other form of creative work. All contributions are welcome!

This is a pretty casual, lowkey event, with no commitments or sign-ups. The only rules are as follows:

1. Remember not to start posting until the event begins! You can start sharing your contributions on April 27th. If you’re a little behind schedule, don’t worry—the mods will continue to monitor the tag for a short time after the event is over in case anyone misses the deadline!

2. Make sure your work includes the prompts! There’s plenty of room for creative freedom, so hopefully these suggestions will spark something for you… pun intended. And if not, free day will allow you to post whatever your heart desires. Time to dust off those plot bunnies!

3. The tag for this weekend will be cfsw2024, so remember to tag all your contributions! When we get a little closer to the time, I’ll also start an AO3 collection where you can share your works with the world!

4. Please use appropriate tags. If your work is nsfw, or contains themes that might be upsetting or triggering, please make sure to tag it as such. We want everyone to be safe and enjoy themselves during this event, so be mindful of your fellow users and make sure to leave warnings if necessary!

5. Have fun!

If anyone has any questions, please feel free to drop me a message!

Thank you everyone, and let the coldflashing commence!

#coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #coldflash fanfiction #coldflash fan art #coldflash events

117 notes · View notes

joels-shitty-puns · 5 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 9

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Panic/Anxiety attack. Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.7K

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 8? Here!

Hi everyone!! I really don't feel great about this chapter, I'm sorry if it sucks. I kinda just want to get it out there though because I don't see my brain thinking up anything better. A lot of writer's block surrounding this scene. Anywho, hopefully next chapter will be better, but I still hope you like it. Although we allude to a little bit of sexual situations now that they are together, I likely will avoid explicit smut being that Pedro is a real human and I am a guilty, guilty human for writing any smut at all. I don't want to offend Pedro (not that he'd ever see it anyway, I am delusional), but I also know people find real person fiction uncomfy as a whole. That being said, I think this story may be coming to a close pretty soon. I plan to have maybe one more full storyline chapter, and at least one little side bonus chapter :) Please let me know what you think in the comments, or DM me if you wanna chat! I love hearing all your thoughts. Thank you for reading and hanging in here with me.

Before the screen even had a chance to load, you canceled the request. Nervously looking at Pedro, he held your hand under the table. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I just realized,” you replied. “What if they ask about us? About those pictures? What should I say?”

Pedro answered with a gentle stroke of his thumb on your cheek. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you say, baby. I know your privacy is important to you, and I trust you. I'm all in with you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and once again began the stream.

“Live in 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The fans began to file in, and before you knew it, you had thousands of viewers. Opting to start with your screen covered, you wanted to give an intro first before the big reveal.

It wasn't long before the comments flowed across the screen.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Pedro’s hand, and jumping in. “Hi everyone! It's me… a lot has been happening lately and I decided it might be time to show a little more of myself.”

-“First!”

-“Did she mean to start a live video ??"

-"Hiii! I'm a big fan"

-“Is she there??”

-“Do you guys see anything?”

“So… Here's me.” You turned on your camera, waving at the screen, your stomach twisting in deeper knots.

-“No fucking way.”

-“!?!!!!!”

-“SCREAMING”

“Hi… Some of you might know me, some might be surprised. But this is me. This is the girl behind the music.”

The comments flooded in, entirely too fast for you to read.

“I want to thank all of you for being fans and listening to my songs. It really means a lot and I hope you liked the album. Your support blows me away, especially with what little information about myself I've given.”

More comments.

“Well, I uh… guess I should read some of these comments and answer some questions. I'm sure there’s a lot you all are wondering about,” you stated nervously, starting to read.

-“Why did you hide your identity?”

“Why did I hide my identity… I hid my identity mostly based on poor self image. I never expected my music to gain popularity, never expected celebrities to know it. Never expected any of it, and it certainly brought its share of criticism. I was scared to be in the spotlight and I didn't feel like I looked good enough to be someone famous. You know? I'm not skinny, I have flaws, and that doesn't always sit well with the Internet. I guess I was mainly scared of how I would be perceived. I'm just a normal girl who had her whole life flipped upside down when I wrote my feelings down,” you laughed anxiously.

Choosing to ignore the storm brewing in the comments below, you addressed the earlier comment. “Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad I can make you feel more accepted by seeing more plus-sized people in the entertainment business. Everyone should feel seen and have a place at the table, no matter what you look like, or who you are.”

-“I think it's nice to have more celebrities that look kinda like me.”

-“You're so humble!!”

-“You should've stayed hidden lmao”

-“Shut up, asshole. Why are you here if you're going to be rude?”

-“I'm sure you're a real supermodel behind that keyboard bravery.. smh”

You weren't expecting someone to actually feel like you were representing them and making them feel seen. You didn't think you had enough of an impact for that. You certainly weren't treated that way when you weren't famous. Nobody really even noticed you before.

You could feel Pedro’s eyes on your face, his thumb swirling circles and hearts over the space of skin on the top of your hand, below your thumb. The place where his bullseye resides on his own. Does he trace that tattoo when he's nervous, the same way he is with me? Perhaps his tracing of your hand is calming himself as much as it is for you.

Desperately, you wanted to look over at him and be comforted by his deep brown eyes, but doing so would cause people to wonder who you made eye contact with and smiled at. So instead, you gave a gentle squeeze and a smile towards the screen, hoping he would understand.

-“Hi, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I ask… is what you said on your album true? You've never been kissed before? I haven't either and I was starting to feel like I'm just a freak.”

“Oh, honey, you aren't a freak. Everyone has things happen at different times in their life. But yes, everything I wrote in my album at the time I wrote it was true. And don't worry, I have felt the same way. Seeing others be kissed, falling in love… having the things I wasn't, it really hurts. But it'll be okay.. nothing is wrong with you. You're deserving of love.”

You hoped they wouldn't pick up on your usage of past-tense wording. Pedro, still holding your hand, rubbed his other hand over your arm gently.

-“Wait… at the time you wrote it? What about now?”

The comments were going wild.

Welp…

Your hands shook, and you used your opposite hand to place on top of Pedro’s that gripped yours. He squeezed gently, feeling the nervous tremors pass through your body, continuing to rub gentle strokes over your arm with his opposite hand.

“Uhm…” your cheeks heated and your stomach sank.

“I've changed a lot since this album was first written. Experienced new things. But I'm still the same person.”

Shit.

-“Who did you kiss?! Is it the guy in your song?”

-“Will you tell us who the song is about?”

-“Wait a second… you're that girl aren't you!?!!!! The one in the pictures with Pedro Pascal!!!!”

-“OMG IT IS”

-“!!!!!!!”

-“IS HE THE GUY!?!”

-“ARE YOU DATING!?!”

The nervous tremors continued, now threatening to cause your teeth to chatter. A full panic attack was brewing. Pedro squeezed your hand again, touching your knee and trying to do his best to ground you without speaking up on your live video. Skipper could feel the waves of anxiousness pooling off of you as well and crawled forward to settle his body across your feet. You took a few calming breaths, but when you went to speak, your voice still betrayed you.

“I..” your voice cracked, shakiness evident as you could feel tears starting to edge their way towards your vision.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I need to shut it off.

You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to ease your nausea and stress.

Keeping your eyes closed, you spoke. “Yes.”

You took another deep breath. “Yes it was me, yes the song was about him. Yes.”

You opened your eyes to read the comments, tears pooling down your cheeks as you couldn't hold back your emotion anymore.

This is so embarrassing. The first time I show my face I'm crying and having an anxiety attack in front of the whole world.

You swallowed, choking back the full sobs that your body wanted to let loose. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you began to read the comments, expecting laughter, criticism, and bullying. Instead, you were met with kindness.

Coming back to your senses, you gave a shaky smile. “Thank you guys. I'm sorry for my emotions.” You sniffled. Pedro was still rubbing your hands and arms, comforting you, having never stopped. His eyes still bore into the side of your head, and you knew he was struggling to not speak up or grab you fully.

-“Oh my God, are you okay?”

-“I didn't mean to make you cry I'm so sorry”

-“You and Pedro make a cute couple”

-“Oh no, please don't cry”

-“Idk if you guys are dating but you seem cute”

-“I'm so glad you guys are spending time together when he's the guy in your song”

-“It'll be okay, please don't be upset”

-“You're amazing, we love you”

“Yes, Pedro and I have been spending a lot of time talking after he publicly commented on my song a few months ago. The party was the first time we met in person and we're still figuring things out,” you let go of your worries and broke eye contact with the camera, looking to your side to meet Pedro’s gaze. “But… we're happy.” You smiled at him. He smiled back gently, squeezing your hand, worry and sadness plaguing his face over your well-being. Breaking eye contact, you looked back at the screen.

You giggled before answering “well, I think that's all we have time for today. Thank you all for joining me!” You silently clicked off the stream, closing the browser, turning off the computer, and turning to Pedro. He grabbed your other hand in his, now holding both. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched in his face.

-“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

-“IS HE THERE WITH YOU!?!”

-“whaaaaat”

-“SCREAMING”

-“Shut. Up. This is insane.”

-“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T TAKE IT”

“I think so,” you nodded.

“Seeing you panic and not being able to do anything without potentially making it worse… It killed me. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to pull you into my arms and end that video myself. I hated seeing you so upset.” He stared down at your intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over them again.

“I appreciate you being here for me,” you let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. “I couldn't have done that without you.” You met his eyes, leaning forward to rest against his forehead. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you. I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile. “Let's move to the couch, huh?” You asked, pulling him up from the chair. He stood, just as your phone rang, a call from Rose. You quickly answered.

“I saw the live stream. You did wonderful! Don't worry about any of the negative comments you saw or any stories that come out of this. I'll handle it all.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

“Anytime. Take care.” She hung up.

You updated Pedro as the two of you walked towards the couch. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

“Maybe in a minute. Can I just hold onto you for a few minutes?”

“I would love nothing more.”

He sat on the couch, you sitting next to him, before he gave you a look. “What?” you laughed. He patted his leg.

“Let me hold you.”

“I'm too heavy for that Pedro, don't be ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“You're the one being ridiculous.” He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I'm too heavy! You're going to hurt yourself,” you whined.

“You're not too heavy. You're the perfect size, baby. Come here,” he pulled you forward, your body sliding down his thighs as he wrapped his arms around you. You straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he rubbed your back gently. You placed your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and closing your eyes. You both sighed, and he grabbed a blanket next to him to pull over your bodies. “I could stay like this for hours, wrapped in your arms” you sighed comfortably.

“Why don't you?” He turned his head to kiss your lips. You lifted your face up, taking your head off his shoulder to kiss him deeper. The kisses were lazy and comfortable, holding each other and enjoying the warmth of being in each other's arms.

Finally the two of you broke the kiss, settling back on his shoulder, him tilting his head to lean against yours. His hands sprawled over your back, pulling you forward a bit to adjust in his lap. You let out a soft whimper at the contact, fully aware of the location your bodies connected at the moment. “Feel how much you mean to me?” He asked, his breath ghosting your ear as he pulled your hips forward again. You whined. “Yes..” you answered breathlessly. The temptation to keep doing that was overwhelming. But he once again wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as the two of you comfortably dozed off, finally relaxed after so much stress of the morning.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling Pedro still underneath you. At the feel of you moving, he stretched a bit before settling with his arms around you again. “Morning, baby” he hummed. “Guess we fell asleep,” you smiled.

“Some of the best sleep I've had in a while, here with you.”

“Same here.” You blinked your eyes open, kissing him on the lips with a peck. “What time is it?”

He turned his head to look at the clock on your TV. “5 o’clock” he laughed. “Guess we both needed some rest.”

“Mmmm, I guess so,” you hummed, settling into him more.

“Good thing I brought nonperishables. Are you hungry?”

You pondered. “Yeah, I am,” you looked into his deep brown eyes. “Breakfast for dinner?” You smiled at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He pecked your lips before you slid off his lap, the two of you standing to stretch. It wasn't long that you two stood apart before you leapt forward again to give him a hug. He laughed, hugging you back. “I'll never get tired of being in your arms,” you smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

“I'll never get tired of holding you in mine,” he pulled his face back to look at you.

“Now let's eat! I'm starved,” you scampered towards the kitchen, him giving a gentle pat to your butt before hugging you from behind as you grabbed the breakfast foods. You giggled, setting food on plates as he kissed your neck, still wrapped around you from behind. “I'm starving too,” he replied back to your earlier statement with a growl, biting your ear.

“Pedro!” You giggled, smacking his arm gently. He chuckled, pulling away and grabbing his plate as you both headed to the table.

The two of you ate, filling the space with light conversation, both of you occasionally sneaking Skipper some bites under the table. He could get used to having two humans spoiling him.

The chatter came to a natural pause, eating in silence and smiling at each other across the table. Pedro stopped eating, wiping his hands and continuing to stare at you. You laughed, asking him what was up. Suddenly, he looked nervous.

“I, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I was going to wait until after we had at least a first date to say this, but…” he trailed off, and your mind spiraled. Is he breaking up with me? Is he not interested anymore? What's wrong?

“I was wondering if… you'd be my girlfriend? Exclusively?” His cheeks flushed.

You stammered, dropping your fork on the plate. “You… you want… me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled.

He nodded. “If… you'll have me.”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He nodded again, looking down at the table.

“Yes. Yes, are you kidding? Please! I'd love nothing more.” You grinned, jumping out of your chair to move to him.

He stood, pulling you into a hug. “Really?” He smiled at you.

“Really,” you nodded. “Now kiss me,” you held his face.

“Gladly,” he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance to your mouth. You squealed, surprised, but letting him in. You'd never experienced this sensation before. But it was… incredible.

He licked your lips, the two of you exploring the inside of each other's mouths, tongues dancing together. The kiss was heated and deeper than ever before, both of you finally pulling away for air, him coming back in to peck your lips a few times, sucking your lip between his own. You sighed shakily. “Wow.”

“I love kissing you,” he smiled against your lips.

“I love kissing you. You're a good kisser,” you smiled back.

“So are you,” he smirked. “My beautiful girlfriend.” He gave a kiss. “How about that date tomorrow?” He pulled away to look at you, letting his hand rub across your lower back, just above your butt.

“I'd love to,” you stroked his face. “My handsome boyfriend.” You wrapped your arms around him again, blissfully.

“Tomorrow,” you two sighed in unison.

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know what you think ❤️

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #key to your heart

149 notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 7 months

Text

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld

taglist form is in my pinned post- let me know if I’m missing you<3

#drunk tank #Daryl Dixon x reader #Shane Walsh x reader #shane walsh x y/n #Daryl Dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Shane Walsh x you

259 notes · View notes

onsunnyside · 1 year

Text

yet another prompt from my bestie’s ask: drum roll please (pun intended)… here’s drummer!Rafe

The road to stardom is wild and loud, full of flashing lights and cheering crowds in a new city every night. It's also full of distractions that come in various shapes and colours, whether that be liquor bottles, a white powdery substance, or the endless line of groupies. Rafe and his band are no strangers to indulging in those distractions, the rugged and crazy lifestyle quickly became a part of their rockstar image.

You have a dream to make it big, and to see your name on the silver screen with the generation's greatest. Unfortunately, Hollywood was beyond tough on those who weren't already born within the golden gates. You're a lucky one, with all your hard work and sleepless nights, you go from waitressing and living in a trailer park in L.A. to living comfortably in your dream home with a resume that just keeps getting longer and longer.

You meet Rafe at a mutual friend's party. You've been close with one of his bandmates for a little while, and finally got the opportunity to meet the rest of them.

Your first impressions are awful, to say the least: you were excited to meet the drummer of the famed rock band and have been staring at him all night, working up the courage one smidge at a time. When he slips out the balcony doors, you take your chance.

Rafe's leaning over the railing, cigarette hanging from between his fingers as he types on his phone. When you step beside him, he glances at you, blue eyes lazily dragging over your figure.

"I thought groupies weren't allowed in here."

You stand there dumbfounded, jaw on the floor as he blows the smoke.

"I'm not—"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh, "don't tell me you're a friend of a friend, or a classmate from childhood, or someone's long-distance girlfriend. I've heard it all, trust me."

You cross your arms, heat filling your chest, "Do you talk to everyone like that?"

"Just those who deserve it." His voice is low, "Beat it, sweetheart. You don't want to get thrown out and risk ruining that pretty dress, now do you?"

You don't know what his problem was. For someone so loved and adored, he was a fucking asshole. You supposed that's the lovely work of PR teams, they can make even the cruellest monsters into angels. Hell, even your team worked tirelessly to maintain your image.

"You're still here? Don't you have a security guard to blow, or a tour bus to break into?" He asks condescendingly, hair falling over his forehead as he leans down, studying you with that stupid smirk. “Who are you fucking, huh? Is it one of the desperate socialites, or the wannabe models?”

His laugh breaks into a shout when your drink splashes on his face, the alcohol dripping down his chin to his chains and silk blue shirt, "what the fuck—"

You don't stay long enough to hear his curses and return to the penthouse, promising yourself to never speak to him again.

I'm sensing... hate fucking: his hand is over your mouth and you're pressed against the tiled wall, dress hiked up and legs around his waist. The party rages on inside the club, hopefully still lively enough that no one will notice your absence. Tonight was for you to celebrate your first big award win, you didn't know Rafe was coming with your mutual friend, and you'd die before admitting that you're glad he did.

You can't help your moans, his cock effortlessly hitting your sweet spot with every rock. He fills you so deeply, stretching your hole with his fat girth, and it pains you to know that he's ruined you for anyone else. You just know you'll be a limping mess.

"Shut up. God, you never fucking shut up." He grunts, his hand falling to your throat, "You wanna get caught? Want everyone to know you're fucking a... what is it you called me?"

He grinds into you and you gasp, gaze locked on his lips. He was a great kisser, the best you've ever had, but you'd never tell him that, just like how you refused to ask for another.

"A-An ungrateful prick."

His eyes gleamed dangerously, sweat brimming at his brow, "Yeah, that's it. I bet you're grateful I didn't leave when you told me to."

He keeps you pinned to the wall with his hips and his other hand slips where you meet. His skillful fingers toy with your needy bundle and your body convulses, your juices nearly dripping down his length.

"And you said I never shut up."

A harsh slap lands on your clit and your choked whimper turns into a loud whine when he repeats the action again, harder this time. The lewd sounds of your wetness bounce off the washroom walls. If you had any shame left, it was gone now, tucked in his pocket with your torn underwear.

"You'll be on your knees and thanking me by the end of the night. I can promise you that."

I can only imagine how nasty drummer!Rafe is 😮‍💨 the kinks, the spitting, the choking, the messy "let me fuck my cum back into you," the tasteful nude polaroids, and wiping your tears when you cum so hard you cry, "that's it. let it out, baby. such a good girl for daddy."

Can't forget about the disgusting lyrics he'd write about you (ofc there are sweet ones too but that's not until later), telling the whole world how much he loves the way you taste and feel, how you're his filthy little angel and that you bring him closer to heaven with your body.

Oh the sexting !! When he's on tour and you're working, it's hard to make time for each other. Sometimes he'll send you a picture of his hard bulge through his jeans with a cheeky "wish you were here." When you win another big award (and inevitably become a style icon overnight bc of your dress), he sends flowers, cute lil note, and ofc, a nut video with sound 😌 "the next time I see you, I'm fucking you in that dress."

653 notes · View notes

quillsareswords · 1 year

Note

How about a Damian x reader where the reader is friends with Jon and even though she doesn’t like him, Damian gets jealous and it ends in him confessing. And maybe a kiss 🤔🤔🤔🤔

A/N: ...these were all supposed to be under like 400 words...I looked up six hours and 2,520 words later and here we are. anyway sry no kith bc I didn't feel like it 💅

WARNINGS: misunderstanding, language, argument, raised voices

MASTER LIST in BIO

You're nicer to Jon than anybody else you work with, including him. You go out of your way to talk to Jon. You ask him if he wants anything from the vending machine. You laugh at his awful puns.

He hates to say it irritates him, because Jon is a very kind person, and he deserves the same treatment. He deserves soft touch and secret jokes and a bright smile.

He deserves you. Out of everyone in the room at one of these inane hero mixers, Jon deserves you most.

Despite this, the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

(Nevermind that you pick him immediately for missions, or that you already know what he wants from the vending machine and you memorized how he takes his coffee, or that you're the only one who laughs when he cracks the darkest joke anyone in the room can stomach. That probably means nothing.)

He plants himself in the farthest corner of the room and sulks. He catches your eyes a few too many times, so he looks anywhere else. At anyone else.

He decided a few weeks ago that avoiding you would be for the best. Hopefully, his feelings for you would wither without the sunlight of your presence. Hopefully, the bright petals of his heart would lose some vibrance and stop distracting his brain.

It's a ridiculous hope, really. It's been months since he realized these feelings, and he hasn't yet seen a day he wanted you any less. At this rate, he's positive he could lock himself away on the other side of the planet for a few years and still be able to pick your voice out of a crowd.

He'd tried to show you. In his own, roundabout way. He'd let you catch him staring. He'd seek you out when he could. He'd try to brush his hand against yours when you walked together. He wrote embarrassing poetry and hid them among your things. He did things he had seen in movies where the guy always gets the girl, because he didn't know what else to do.

He did everything he could do, except tell you to your face. He tried, once. He could bring himself to do it. He'll never admit fear, but he didn't like to think about what would happen if you didn't feel the same way.

"What are you brooding about now?"

He jerks, scowling already. "Nothing," he snaps. "I'm not brooding."

He very intentionally doesn't look at you, leaning against the wall beside him, but he does catch your reaction. He doesn't have to see you to hear the pause in your breathing, the hesitation before you reply. He's surprised you. He's not normally so curt with you for no reason, and you both know that. If he focuses, he can feel the quick once-over you give him, as if you could find that reason somewhere on his person.

"Drag of a party, isn't it?" you try again. "I tried to sneak you one of those little breadsticks at the snack bar, but I think Impulse would've bitten me."

(He had seen you, actually. Superboy at your side, chattering about something he couldn't hear, you'd skulked around, waiting for an opening, but Impulse was prepared to die defending those breadsticks. He must have skipped breakfast.)

He doesn't reply. He keeps his arms crossed, continues staring past the clusters of chattering superheroes, out the Watchtower windows. If this had been weeks ago, he would have brushed it off and told you that he'd fight for them himself if he got hungry.

You're a strong person. You've drawn lines in the sand for yourself. If you don't like the way someone treats you, you'll avoid them as much as you possibly can. You won't stand around and take it. You told him that much to his face the first time you met him: be nice to be, I'll be nice to you; pull that attitude with me again and I'll let the next guy shoot you in the face. It's how you treat everyone. He respected you for it, which is how you wedged yourself into his good graces in the first place.

Therefore, if he goes out of his way to upset you now, you'll avoid him too.

There's that bitter taste again.

"Is everything okay?" You lean forward, trying to get within his line of sight, or to get a better look at his face. "Seems like you're in a worse mood than usual."

"It's no business of yours," he grunts. "Go find someone else to pester."

At the very edge of his vision, your expression ripples. His resolve does, too. You take a moment before you speak again. "Did I piss you off?"

No. You never piss me off. I'd rather talk to you for a day than anyone else for a lifetime. He swallows.

"Listen, if you had a bad morning or something–"

"I thought I told you to find anyone else to bother."

Bother is a low blow and he knows it. You had a boyfriend last summer who'd called you that just before you broke it off with him. You confided just how much it stung to Damian after he caught you sniffling on a rooftop in Gotham.

He thinks it might have been too far, but isn't that the point? To jab at you just enough that you abandon all efforts at a friendship with him?

Your grip on his arm catches him off guard, and you take the opportunity to drag him to one of the doors at either end of the room.

You shove him out into the empty hall and make sure the steel slab latches behind you. "What is your problem?" you demand, planting yourself between him and the door.

"I don't know what you're talking about–"

"Don't play stupid, I know you aren't." Your tone is metallic in his ears, cold and hard. "You're being a dick. I wanna know why."

He is being a dick. "I am not."

You stare at him. He meets it head on, and realizes that it's the first time in the entire conversation that he's looked at you.

You're good at hiding things from people. You've got a knack for screaming internally and looking bored externally. It doesn't matter what the situation is, you always look like you've got it all under control.

He can see in that one look that you definitely aren't. Your breath is quicker than normal, your eyes are fractions wider, your posture is off-center. Your expression is wide open, waiting to receive whatever excuse he lobbies at you. You're distraught about this.

A realization lodges in his throat. Either you're so upset by him that you can't mask it, or you trust him enough that you aren't holding up that mask at all.

He looks away. Shakes his head. "I don't have time for this."

"Oh, what? Have a busy day of standing alone in a corner and staring off into the distance?" You cross your arms. "If you didn't feel like being pestered, why did you bother showing up?"

It wasn't his choice, actually. He knew you'd be here. His father tricked him anyway. Told him it was, League business, won't take more than an hour. You wanted to see the Watchtower again anyway, right?

You don't give him time to respond. "If you have a problem with me, say that. Don't talk to me like I'm some idiot who can't take a hint. Especially in front of a bunch of coworkers."

"Fine; I have a problem."

"Great, fantastic! He does have a problem." with you." You throw your hands up like you've just discovered the cure to dementia. "What's the problem, Wayne?"

He glares at you. You don't look so out of sorts now, so he holds it. "I'm sure you'd like to know."

You set your hands on your hips. "Well I'd like to know if I can fix it."

So would I. "You want to fix it?" He starts heatedly, scraping together some barbed speech about how you're too focused on what others think of you, but you beat him.

"Yes!" Your expression opens again, like clouds parting for sunlight—except, instead of brightness, he only sees the near-desperate eyes of a woman trying to salvage a friendship she didn't even know was crumbling. "You're one of my best friends, Damian. I don't want to lose you over something stupid if I don't have to."

One of my best friends. One of. Friends. He hangs on your every word, loses sleep over the slightest touch, forgets where he is when he looks into your eyes for too long—and he doesn't even rank at the top of your list. He's not your best friend or your boyfriend. He's one of a few.

On any other day, he'd take a deep breath and remind himself that you don't owe him anything. It's his problem that he did the stupid thing and fell– caught feelings, not yours.

But today? It sets him off.

"I suppose it bothers you so much. Don't you have anywhere better to be? I'm sure Jon would appreciate your company far more than I could," he snarls.

Any hurt in your eyes fizzles into confusion. "What? What are you–"

"You're right, I'm not stupid. I'm not blind, either." His voice is rising, but he's still got enough sense to keep this as private as he can, surrounded by super-powers. "I see how you act with him. I know you love him."

You reel. You can't help laughing, breathy and incredulous. "Love–? What in the fresh hell are you talking about?"

"Don't try to deny it."

"Uh, I am going to deny it because it isn't true."

He steps forward, as if he has a chance at intimidating you into admission. "You're kinder to him than anyone else. You treat him like he hung the sun. You go looking for him first at every opportunity." He's gesturing with his hands, too. "You make it so obvious, I don't know how I'd didn't see it before. Maybe I am blind after all."

"You're so wrong," tell him. You're uneasy again. Twisting away from him by fractions, inches. Just enough to be doing it subconsciously, like a guilty man in an interrogation room. You still don't back away from him, don't let him snatch the reins of the situation. All of this only fuels him more.

"You aren't stupid either. I know that. You know that." He stops for a breath, just one, and you see just how hard he's breathing

He's never been this agitated by something like this before. It's true, when he's pent up and angry about something he can't simply remedy, he goes looking for fights to pick and outlets to unleash upon. But he's never found that in you. His indirect anger has almost always spared you, a few sharp words aside.

"I'm not saying that I do feel for Jon," you interrupt, "but if I did; why would it bother you this much?"

He's never cared before. You know he hasn't—you've gone out of your way to make try to make him jealous once or twice, talking about boys you have liked or flirting with someone right in front of him, and it's never gotten you more than a raised eyebrow or an eye roll.

Something intuitive, grown from too long spent at his side, flutters to life in your mind. An idea, a theory, a hope.

For the first time since you met him, he stammers. He trips over his words once, twice, then promptly snaps his mouth shut. On the outside, his face pinches angrily, lips pressed together grimly. Inside, he screams into the void and scrambles for a handful of words he can stitch into a decent excuse. All the vocabulary of five different languages, half the vocabulary of four more, and all he can come up with are incoherent expletives.

And like the kind, patient person you are—for him, at least—you wait for him. You stand there after he's run his stupid mouth and acted like some bratty elementary schooler, and you wait for him to figure out an explanation instead of turning away from him. He told you he didn't want to talk to you and instead of telling him to get over it or writing him off completely, you tried to fix it.

It sucks all the fight right out of him.

Finally, he says your name in a way that makes your lungs seize. "You have to know," he says quietly. "You must."

You think you might. "Know what?"

Five steps away from you feels too far, so he makes it two. Not enough to crowd you, not enough to hide. "You really don't have feelings for Jon?"

You chuckle. "Jon's…nice. He's really nice, and he's a close friend, but…he's just not the guy for me," you admit. "And for the record, I definitely don't think he hung the sun."

It earns you a little smile. Small victories, you suppose.

You're still watching him expectantly. He could lie his way out of this. He could tell you that he thought Jon was cheating on you, frame it as though he was trying to save you from heartbreak. He could tell you a lot of things, frame himself in a lot of ways.

But he doesn't want to do this again. You didn't have feelings for Jon, but you just as easily could have. You'll have other men groveling at your feet eventually. You'll choose one of them, eventually. He has a chance, right now.

He takes a breath to steady himself. It's full of your favorite fragrance, and he finds that instead of making him any more nervous, it becomes a little easier to breathe.

He thinks of all those terribly unrealistic movies his sisters and Dick watch. He thinks of making out in the rain and dramatic confessions and passionate kisses. He tries to imagine himself there instead. He tries to put together something that you'll remember forever, even if you turn him down.

But he's standing here, looking at you, waiting for him like you always do.

"I'm in love with you," he says. "I'm–...I love you."

It's strangely freeing to say out loud. He anticipated anxiety. In every scenario that ran through his mind, he'd been terrified. In the worst cases, there had been tears or gunfire or both. He'd say it, in whatever way he could conjure up, and it would feel like he was stepping off a cliff.

Now that he's here, and he's said it, you're smiling at him like you're welcoming him home.

"Oh, Damian," you whisper, and your eyes are glittering like a reflection of a sunrise, and your palms are so warm on his shoulders. "I love you, too."

#QFWW #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #quillsfebuarywritingweek #damian wayne #still not rly happy with this but eh

538 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 3 months

Note

You mentioned that the inexperienced reader has gotten good at giving blowjobs to William. How did William react of skills of her rocking his world right before his contract meeting? He would totally test her flexibly after the meeting just to make her loose her mind.

Alright, we're taking a few leaps in time here - hope it all flows well for you 🤍

[Or who cares if it's a bit confusing; it's Willy smut, and we're all just here for the fun, right]

However, I do still hope you enjoy it, even though it turned out to be quite lengthy... 🙈 No pun intended

Also, I decided to weave in two other requests (1 & 2) to create a full chapter, so it sort of turned out to be three stories in one - please, feel free to share your thoughts (on the length, amount of smut, or anything else) - Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy 😊

Warnings; 18+ smut; oral sex (m receiving); mention of masturbation; praise!kink; light spanking; dominance!kink; thigh riding; edging; light bondage; unprotected sex (p in v); cum inside; more oral sex (m receiving, mention of f receiving); swallowing...?

I won't even try and defend myself on this 🙈 I know, nobody asked for 5.9K words of Willy Nylander smut... 🤍

[Credits to sarahaugenphotography]

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt IV I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

"Hey, you alright, babe?" you inquired, your voice gentle and cautious, while you looked at your boyfriend, William Nylander.

"Hmm... I’m fine," he merely responded, though his restless leg under the table suggested otherwise. His tense fingers played with the mug, even though he had already finished his coffee and was now just staring into space. His striking blue eyes sparkled, and his expression remained calm yet resolute.

You had just finished breakfast. Even though William wasn't initially hungry when you’d asked, you still prepared a small plate of his favourite pancakes, which he devoured with evident satisfaction.

"Hey, it's okay if you're feeling nervous. Anyone would be," you offered a soft smile across the table.

"I know, but I'm not - my agent has it all sorted, babe," he reassured you, although it sort of seemed like he was trying to convince himself, as you noticed his attempt at a smile, but it quickly faded.

Truth be told, William hadn't been particularly nervous during the many months of negotiating his contract. He had complete faith in his manager and agent, confident that he'd make the right decision no matter what.

While it wasn't a secret that William wanted to stay in Toronto - at least, that's what he had communicated to everyone, including the press - he understood that his career came first. If a better deal presented itself elsewhere, he would take it. But Toronto was more than just a city; it was home to him.

And naturally, you played a role in all of this too. Since you and William started dating, he felt a subtle desire to be wherever you were. Not that he'd ever choose not to transfer because of you – you understood that. Yet, a small part of him hoped to stay there so that the two of you could be together.

Especially since you hadn't really discussed what would happen if he didn't get an extension.

Yet today marked his final meeting with the managers, settling the last details, and hopefully, reaching an agreement to sign. Despite William not displaying any nervous emotions, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety on his behalf. This was a significant step in his career, and you wanted to be nothing but supportive. After all, you were in a committed relationship, and all you wanted was for William to be happy.

And as you both sat in silence, an urge to comfort your man washed over you. You wanted to make him feel at ease and tune into his calm pulse.

So, gradually, you got up from your chair and took measured steps around the table, placing your hands gently on William's shoulders as you tenderly caressed him. Your fingers traced his neck and the cascade of his long locks as you admired your stunning man. His composed demeanour had always impressed you, and now you felt the need to impress him as well – to show him just how proud you were of him.

Gently, you offered his shoulders a light massage, ensuring you wouldn't tense up his muscles. You observed him relaxing from his position, leaning back in the chair into your touch.

Noticing him slowly tilting his head back, you bent down behind him, placing a soft kiss on his earlobe before whispering, "Are you sure you don't need me to help calm your nerves?"

Your seductive voice echoed through his ear, and William felt a comfortable shiver run down his spine, as he closed his eyes, letting himself relax under your butterfly kisses on his neck. Your hands carefully sneaked in front of his torso, under his shirt by the collar, gently toying with his light chest hairs.

"Mmm... maybe I could use some help..." he moaned softly, feeling a small tingling down in his groin as one of your hands began traveling further down under his shirt.

And with a light bite onto his earlobe, you seductively added, "Then get up and let me take care of you..."

Which you didn't have to tell him twice.

Rising from his seat, you both moved around so William could lean against the dining table, and you stood in front of him, on your toes, sharing a deep, passionate kiss while tucking two fingers under the hem of his sweats. Pulling back, you looked him straight in the eyes with a flirtatious smirk. Then, you squatted before him, pulling down his sweats along with his boxers, letting his semi-hard member come in contact with the cool air.

Your eyes glinted up at him as you kissed his muscular thighs, his hand gently stroking your hair, and his eyes meeting yours. William couldn't help but gasp, slightly parting his lips as you kissed closer to his growing member, licking and nipping his sensitive flesh.

"Baby, no teasing," he muttered softly, as you used one hand to gently stroke his length, feeling how his blood flow made him completely hard for you under your touch. You licked your lips, hungry to make contact with his tender skin, and as he wished, you parted your lips to wrap them around his tip, circling your tongue before slowly taking him further into your warmth.

William let out small grunts as he felt you take him deeper with every slow motion, hitting the back of your mouth as you expertly worked him with your hand. Your saliva coated every inch of him as you concentrated on breathing through your nose, relaxing the back of your throat, allowing yourself to take more and more of him in.

Truth be told, you were rather impressed with yourself.

William wasn't exactly on the smaller side - nor unrealistically large. But he was thick, a good length that could fill you up completely and girth that could stretch you wonderfully. To you, his cock was perfect.

And as you bopped your head and offered him every part of your warm mouth in a seductive and sensual manner, you observed how his hips softly began to rock and his eyes turned away from yours, closing shut as he leaned back. One hand still in your hair, while the other held a tight grip onto the table behind him.

His breaths gradually grew deeper and more inconsistent as his climax built up, and he could feel himself nearing the peak.

"Oh yes, baby, so damn good," he praised you softly between moans, his hand gripping your hair more firmly. "Fuck yes... shit... baby, more... I'm getting close."

His words acted like a spell, and instinctively, you increased your speed, bobbing faster as you took him deeper. Your hand worked the area you didn't have in your mouth, feeling his hips thrust against your movements.

He was so close.

You sensed the tightening in his thighs, his hand holding onto the table, while his other hand ensuring you wouldn't pull away.

Then with several more bobs, William let out a deep grunt as he reached his climax, releasing into your mouth. And you willingly swallowed every bit, cleaning up his sensitive shaft with your tongue and lips.

William's breaths were deep as he regained control, his lungs filling with air as he slowly came down from his high, and you gently let go of his member.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at this..." he softly muttered, and you couldn't help but elicit a chuckle as you rose from your knees.

"I just wanted to make you feel good before your meeting," you flashed him a mischievous smile, gently wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you in for a hug and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Well, I must admit you really did, baby..."

You’d taken the day off from work to get the condo ready for a family visit, as they all wanted to be there for William on this significant day in his career. And while his father, Michael, had already headed to the arena to join William for the training session, his mother and sisters opted for some rest at the hotel before joining you later.

And as your boyfriend and his agent were in the meeting, you busied yourself with tidying up the place. However, amidst the preparations, you felt a bit naughty and decided to give William a sneak peek of what awaited him when he got home. You kept it classy enough though, considering the possibility that he might open your message it in front of others.

Meanwhile, across town, William was smiling during his meeting. Everything seemed to be falling into place exactly as he had hoped, and after months of negotiations, the final touches were about to be put down just before his signature.

The atmosphere was calm and relaxed as his agent discussed the details, and William mostly had to sit back and follow along. However, as the conversation continued and the final touches were being ironed out, his phone suddenly vibrated.

And as curiosity got the best of him, he saw your name on the display, yet knowing it could either be something nice or naughty, he decided to open your message – which turned out to be a seductive mirror photo of you in lingerie, accompanied by the text: 'Hope the meeting is going well for you, baby – can't wait to see you later.'

William had to gulp to contain his reaction. Shit, he thought. Of course, you'd be teasing him like this. But he couldn't help but smile. You were stunning, and with the meeting going in his favour, all he wanted was to celebrate with you later. And the way you’d already given him a taste of how good your mouth felt like, he had an idea of just what to do with you.

It had become a familiar game between the two of you, especially since the trip to Sweden where William had teased you all day, culminating in a passionate round of sex in his childhood home with his family just down the hall.

And describing how mortified and embarrassed you’d felt would be an understatement, but it only took a week for you to exact your revenge.

After the boys immediately went on tour following the Global Series, you became a master at teasing William, as you sent him lingerie photos, nudes, and dirty messages that had him thoroughly riled up. It was a perfect game.

And as he returned home, ready to reciprocate, you found yourself on a short business trip. Though it was only for two days, for William, it felt like an eternity.

It wasn't that you didn't crave his touch – of course, you did – but the thrill of the game was more intriguing. Besides, you managed to satisfy your needs with a vibrator, even sending him a short snap of the act.

And ýou knew you were in for a round of trouble.

Upon your return from the business trip, William wasted no time picking you up and taking you to his place. And without hesitation, you agreed.

He’d naturally tried to keep his cool at first. He ordered some of his favourite takeout, which you enjoyed as you lounged on the sofa. Then gently William began caressing your thighs and teasingly moving close to your core before retreating completely. Which he repeated a couple of times, well aware that it was slowly driving you insane.

However, you maintained a small smile on your lips, not wanting to let on how much he was getting to you. And together, you both managed to keep control as you watched a TV show.

But then, as you snuggled up to William in a spooning position and purposely ground your ass into his groin, he slowly grew impatient, and he felt the need to put you in your place.

It hadn't always been a fantasy of William's to act like this, but a comment from a few of his teammates during the Sweden trip had sparked some ideas in him.

“Det är nästan som att hon är Ana till din Christian Grey,” (It’s almost like she’s the Ana to your Christian Grey) Calle had teased, after the lads had been talking about how much sex you’d been having ever since you’d admitted your lack of experience.

“Du har verkligen visat henne världen – och nu testar hon vattnet – hon är en kinky en, Willy, du kan verkligen ha kul med henne,” (You’ve really shown her the world – and now she’s testing the waters – she’s a kinky one, Willy, you could really have some fun with her) Lagesson had added with a mischievous grin, prompting William to consider what other limits he could push with you.

"You’re being a bad girl, baby," William spoke with a dark, husky voice, whispering into your ear and causing a shiver to run down your spine. However, you were more intrigued by the fact that you had finally stirred his attention.

"I don’t know what you mean," you innocently spoke, still looking at the screen as you 'ignored' his accusations. "I’m just getting comfortable."

As you gently wiggled your ass a little more, ensuring his cock twitched just enough to tease, a deep grunt escaped from the man behind you. And the satisfied smirk formed on your lips, swiftly removed as William had evidently reached his limit.

"Mmm. I think I need to teach you a little lesson on how we do things here," his voice was rough, and without saying anything else, William rose from his position, hoisted you with his strong arms, and tossed you over his shoulder before carrying you to the bedroom. You had to contain a small giggle, knowing it would only encourage him further. Yet, you were also tempted to play with fire.

As he put you down, you offered him a small smile, one that he didn't return. Which could only mean one thing for you – you were about to be punished.

William wasn't particularly rough – perhaps a mild version of Christian Grey – but he certainly had a dominant side. Much like the first time you had had sex when he had spanked you a few times. It had been an unfamiliar mix of pain and pleasure, something you had been slightly intrigued to explore a little more ever since.

And tonight, he let his inner dominant side take charge. As you stood before him, he issued his first command.

"Strip for me," he spoke with a soft smirk formed on his lips. So, you stripped down to your dainty knickers, earning a cocked brow as William sat on the edge of the bed. "Completely, älskling."

And with a gentle nod, you did as told.

"I knew you could be a good girl… come here."

However, just as you thought you were going to straddle your boyfriend and have the opportunity to ride him, he shifted you and pulled you to bend you over his knees with your ass in position for his right hand.

You suppressed a smile as William looked intensely at you, and you turned your head to meet his eyes.

“Why do you always have to be a fucking tease?” he asked with a dark chuckle, and you found yourself biting down on your lower lip before responding with an almost innocent smile.

“Because I can.”

Less than a second later, you felt William’s hand slamming across your ass cheek, earning a light moan from you as you closed your eyes and felt the sting on your skin.

“That’s right, baby…”

Then you felt the spank again.

“This is for being such a bad girl…”

And again. Every time, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, feeling your core beginning to tingle, yet you craved something else entirely.

“Willy, I want to touch you,” you heard yourself softly speak after the fourth smack.

“Oh, you want to touch me? Alright, get up, babe,” he chuckled lightly, and again, you did as he said.

However, instead of giving you what you wished for, William leaned over to the nightstand, took out a pair of faux leather cuffs, and sat back in his position.

“Turn, älskling,” and with a quick eyeroll, you let him cuff your wrists together before he turned you back around and pulled you into his lap, one of his thick thighs between your legs for you to straddle. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Again, his light chuckle had a hint of darkness and dominant disapproval, to which you naturally had to offer him a light nod.

Your knees were on the bed, William's muscles flexing against your core, and your wrists were tied behind your back; it wasn't exactly an easy position. But William felt content with it, and as his eyes wandered your body, he gave you his next command.

"Ride me," he smirked, placing his lips onto the sensitive skin of your neck, wrapping a hand behind your head, intertwining fingers with your hair, and the other holding your hips in place.

Slowly, you began rocking your hips, grinding your sensitive core against his thigh. And you couldn't help but moan a little, letting yourself sink into the pleasurable feeling of rubbing your clit against the dry fabric of his sweats.

William sucked and bit your neck in between kisses, releasing his mouth to stare at you with an intense glare as you closed your eyes and increased your speed. His hand on your lower back guided your motions, and slowly you became more and more eager, grinding yourself more intensely against him in search of the impending orgasm.

"Oh yes, Willy," you panted lightly, feeling the knot in your lower tummy form, and a euphoric state slowly clouding your mind.

"Yeah, it feels good, baby?"

"So, good, Willy..."

He could almost feel how you were clenching your walls in mere desperation to reach your peak, again increasing your speed as your breaths became incoherent.

"Don't come, baby."

"What?"

"I said: don't come," William's voice was filled with content as he observed how desperate you were, almost crying as you had to slow down your movements to avoid reaching climax.

It was torture.

You let out a whimper as you opened your eyes again and met his intense gaze.

"Willy, please…"

And as your cry rang like music in his ears, he felt his own need for release as his cock had solidly stiffened in his sweats.

"Looks like you've made a bit of a mess, baby," William chuckled again, noticing the wet patch you'd created on his thigh. "Stand up."

Without hesitation, you rose again, staring at your boyfriend with a slightly open mouth as he stripped down to nothing as well, before gently undoing your wrists.

"You're such a good girl for me," he praised with a low voice, carefully rubbing his thumb over your lower lip as his eyes locked intensely with yours.

"Always," you simply replied, gently licking his thumb before he bent down and forcefully connected your mouths. His hands found your ass as he hoisted you into his grip and firmly took a few steps to press you against the wall.

Your tongues were hungry to taste each other, mixing saliva. And you couldn't help but feel your core clenching as you felt William's member hard against your inner thigh.

“Willy, please, in me,” you almost begged in between kisses, and this time, you got what you wished for.

William's length quickly found your entrance, easing in as your arousal had provided a good amount of juices. You couldn’t contain your moans as he stretched your walls, harmonising with him as he felt every inch of your warmth.

And swiftly, his hips found a steady rhythm, pounding in and out of you as William shifted between connecting his lips with yours and moaning into the crook of your neck.

It was heated and passionate. No game anymore as you were making love and both craving a release. His cock felt so good inside of you, filling you up and stretching your walls as his deep moans echoed in your ears like sweet sounds.

“You feel so fucking amazing, baby.”

Your hands were tightly gripping onto his hair, and you soon found yourself again getting closer to the edge.

“Please, I want to come,” you cried out as William thrust into you, bringing dangerously close to your orgasm of he denied you once more.

But this time he gave you, his approval. And as soon as he spoke the words, you let out a deep moan and surrendered to the intense orgasm.

And before short, William felt himself about to reach his own climax. The tightness around him pushed him closer, and as he continued to fuck you through your high, feeling your muscles clench around him, he too let go and reached his peak, spilling his seed into your warmth.

“Yes… Mmm…” he let out deep grunts, slowly pumping a few more times as he regained his breath, both calming down from the intense high of finally giving in to deep desires.

In comfortable silence, you both untangled from the heated moment, gently cleaning up before retiring to the bed where William, as always, made sure to give you proper aftercare.

“I hope I wasn’t too rough with you,” he offered you a slightly concerned smile as you rested beside him.

“Not at all, Willy,” you flashed him a soft chuckle. “But I’m glad you're still worried about it.”

“Of course, älskling, I only want you to feel good.”

“You always make me feel so good, baby,” you smiled before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

Despite the intensity of the games you occasionally played, both of you found them more intriguing than anything else.

Especially after the Sweden trip and that memorable night, it became an ongoing play. When William was on the road, every day felt like torture for him. He'd play exceptionally well, knowing you'd be watching back at home. And in the evening, you'd catch up during a video call, where mutual self-pleasure often followed. Teasing photos were exchanged daily, ensuring he had something to look at in case he felt the need for release. And you'd be ready to guide him through it over the phone while satisfying yourself.

However, despite the fun of teasing when apart, nothing compared to how William would take you when he got back. Nearly every surface of his condo had been in contact with either of your skin. Whether it was your body on the dining table, his ass print on the sofa, your back against the shower, or any other wall, you'd been there.

Yet what amazed you the most, was how your relationship had evolved into something more. After being introduced as his girlfriend, you both had made your relationship public, not just to players and families but also to the rest of the world.

In his ever-so-chill and discreet way, William had posted stories of you on his social media, and you'd done the same about him. It was all rather cute, nothing overly lovey-dovey as Auston had put it. You were officially together for the world to see, and it felt more than amazing.

The only challenge you faced next was, of course, William’s contract extension.

It had been underway for a while, and although you were aware of it from the beginning, you tried not to think too much about it. Perhaps it was because the fear that William might not stay in Toronto lingered in the background, and discussing it might make it all too real, bringing tears to your eyes.

Not that you showed it to William. He didn't exhibit any signs of concern or worry, so you attempted to match his calm energy and simply enjoy the present. Your relationship was profound, and you were willing to make the best of every moment.

Yet, as the negotiations approached their final days, impatience grew within you. And your best way to deal with it was to show your man how much you cared for him and supported whatever decision they'd reach, which often meant taking him down your throat. It was a skill you proudly possessed, and it brought you almost as much pleasure as it did for him.

And it was also very much on your mind during the family dinner.

Despite the overwhelming joy over William finalizing an 8-year extension in Toronto with a satisfactory salary, the thought lingered in your mind.

And amidst the Swedish chatting, cheers, delicious foods, and drinks, the idea of celebrating with William alone distracted you from keeping up with the mix of languages. Despite their best efforts to engage you in the conversation, you were more occupied with resting a hand on your boyfriend’s thigh, contemplating just how you were going to please him.

“Easy, baby,” William softly whispered in your ear as your hand had slowly travelled to cup his member through his baggy jeans. “Save it for later….”

You softly smiled to yourself, gently biting down on your lower lip as you let your hand slip back to just rest on his thigh again. And, before everyone wanted to rise from the table and go for an evening walk with the dogs, you couldn’t help but leave him with a small comment.

“Can’t wait to show you just how much of a good girl I can be for you.”

Your voice held nothing but seduction, and you knew that such a whisper in front of his family was way over the line. A line he had started crossing the night in Sweden, and you were simply playing along.

But your comment wasn’t left unattended as you noticed William’s flickering eyes and a smirk forming on his lips before he rose from his seat.

“Oh, you better be,” he merely whispered as they all began cleaning the table and left for a walk.

Fortunately, none of the family members stayed for long, needing rest due to jet lag, and soon you were back in the condo, slowly stripping each other as you shared deep, passionate kisses.

William's hands roamed your body as if he'd never explored it before, and you felt every inch of his skin you could reach. It was hungry, yet slow and intense as you lay on the bed, his fingers finding your core, stretching your walls while his tongue flicked and sucked your clit a few times.

He prepared you so well, making you feel incredible as your body trembled under his touch, feeling the intensity of a rush coursing through every cell and slowly clouding your mind.

He even brought you to orgasm just with his fingers and mouth, your fists clenching the bed sheets, letting your juices coat him as your mouth moaned his name over and over again.

William always took such good care of you, ensuring you came before he thought about his own needs. And tonight, he knew exactly how he wanted to finish.

And after your first orgasm, he then knelt, placed your ankles on his shoulders, and eased himself into your depths, feeling your walls tighten around him. He hovered over you, supporting himself on his arms, and had your knees come closer to your face before he pounded hard into you.

His skin slapped against yours as your uncontrollable moans filled the room, and he was touching the deepest parts inside you, making you squirm and cry out. It was intense as he kept hitting a very sensitive spot, overstimulating with every thrust, and it didn't take long before you let a second orgasm take over, screaming out curse words that clearly signalled your climax.

You were on cloud nine, your legs shaking when William released them from this position, and it took a moment to find air again before you could open your eyes and look at him with a satisfied smile.

Naturally, he returned it, confident and proud of his work as always, turning you into a piece of art of a mess again.

But tonight was not about you. It was about him.

And though William loved nothing more than to fuck you into oblivion, he did have something else in store for you.

"On your knees."

His voice was dark and husky as his fingers threaded through your hair, guiding you onto the floor. You obeyed without protest. His dominant side was showing again, and you felt a mix of excitement and shock as his eyes had turned darker after your passionate lovemaking.

You knelt before him, your eyes intensely looking up at his large figure, shifting between his face and his throbbing cock, hard and eager for release. You trembled as he approached, kneeling before you, his lips pressing against yours, and his tongue exploring your mouth.

You couldn't help but moan in response, your hands desperately seeking him. But swiftly, he withdrew, leaving you in need of more than just a heated kiss.

Then standing before you, William looked at you with a confident, smug expression. You were down on your knees for him, ready to please and bring him to climax after he'd been good to you. And as he took a step forward, aligning his hard member with your slightly parted lips, he looked down at you with deep desire in his eyes.

"Open up."

No more words were needed before you eagerly moistened your lips with your tongue and opened wide enough for you to take his length into your warm mouth.

William couldn't contain a deep moan as you took him in, letting your saliva cover his shaft as you tasted yourself. You used a hand to stroke the part your mouth couldn't reach, pushing yourself to take him in fully. And as the sensitive tip hit the very back of your throat, your nose struggled to control your breathing.

"Shit, yes, baby… so fucking good…"

William's dark grunts echoed through the bedroom, and you could taste his salty precum as he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and slowly began rocking his hips. You felt his muscles tense and his grip on the back of your head tighten, and so you decided to make him see the stars he deserved. Taking in a deep breath through your nostrils, you did your best to relax your throat and took him all in, your nose meeting the skin above his cock as you felt your lower lip touch the top of his balls.

“Oh fuck…!” his moan came out in surprise as he looked down at you with wide eyes, gagging on his thick cock as you forced yourself to keep in him, tears polling in the corner of your eyes, before you gently pulled back to breath. You could tell that he had not expected that, and being a little proud on yourself, you then turned to his balls, took one in your mouth, sucked it a little as you gave his length a few strokes before giving the other ball the same attention. “Y/n/n… fu.. shi..”

Saying William was speechless was an understatement, as you let your mouth to work every bit of tender skin he had to offer. Licking up his shaft again before you took the tip in your mouth again, circling with your tongue before once again down him entirely. Moaning around his cock you felt him twitch under your touch, and you knew he was getting closer to his climax. His moans and breaths seemed uncontrolled, his hand keeping your head in place as his hips began thrusting against you, and you had to hold your hands on his hips to keep him from choking you.

“Baby, I’m gonna come…”

William felt his climax about to peak, and then pulling you away from his cock, he looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

You were there on your knees between his leg, with your mouth open. Ready to be fed. Your eyes looked up at him with hunger, as you watched as he stroked himself. Slowly. Intently. His veins were engorged, and he build and build until he was ready to climax.

“Stick your tongue out for me.” And you did a told. “Mmm that’s a good girl.”

With a deep grunt, he then stuck his cock in your mouth again, and unloaded onto your palate. His sticky cum coated your tongue and painted the inside of your mouth white.

And just before you could do anything, he spoke again.

“Hold it. Do not swallow until I say so….”

He released his member from your warm mouth, and you had to keep control of yourself as you held his cum in your mouth, looking up at him as he gently stroked your hair. “Oh fuck… you have no idea how pretty you look…”

You had to focus your gaze on him, letting yourself enjoy the sweet and salty taste of him. Your eyes batting as you awaited his final command.

William enjoyed the image of you before him more than he’d expected. You were so fucking gorgeous, and you were his. Letting his thumb gently rub over your lips as he was calming down from his high, he then gave you your last treat.

“You can swallow now, baby.”

And so, you did.

You let his cum glide down your sore throat before gasping for air. William always tasted so good. Like you couldn’t get enough of him; you could eat him like candy, send him to pleasure as you challenged your own abilities.

And as always, being the gentleman he was, William helped you rise from the floor, pulling you in for a tender embrace, and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

You couldn’t contain a smile as you gazed up at him, your arms finding his neck as you enjoyed the warmth from his body.

“Congratulations on the contract, Willy,” you spoke softly, gently playing with the locks of his hair.

And returning your smile, William let out a light chuckle. “Thanks, babe… you were fucking incredible.”

“I know,” you replied with a wide grin. “I just love pleasing you like that.”

“Mmm… can’t really complain, now can I…”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think you can.”

As rough and dominant as William could be, he also showed a caring and soft side. And after cleaning you both up in the bathroom, he prepared for bed and let you cuddle in his arms as you again locked eyes in a comfortable silence, before he broke it.

“Move in with me…”

His words came as a complete surprise.

“What?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated with a light chuckle, his voice suggesting it was the most obvious thing to do. And you couldn’t control how your eyes darted from side to side as you stared into his.

“Willy, are you sure? Or are you just trying to be nice?”

But the question wasn’t all that sudden to William. For a while now, he had been thinking about it, mostly because you spent so much time at his place anyway. It would just make sense that you didn’t have another place. Besides, you always took care of his dogs when he was on the road, so you might as well just live there. To him, it seemed so simple.

“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t ask.”

His calm demeanour could still take you by surprise, and as you let out a light sigh and a chuckle, you just looked at his wonderful blue eyes.

“Alright, let me think about it.”

#18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

127 notes · View notes