#another time someone asked WHILE I WAS DRIVING like stopped their car (they were in front of me) and started waving their hand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 7 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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Here are 7 little facts about my donkey and how his summer is going :)

1. I received an anon the other day asking if Pirou was still a working donkey who carries my firewood for me, and the answer is yes. I've been cutting some branches from the big cherry tree that fell down the other day, and Pirlouit has been valiantly carrying them to the woodshed—fun fact, for this activity he likes to wear his ears like this:

Probably because this T position is reminiscent of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, which is how Pirlouit perceives himself as he carries heavy logs for me. He's willing, but his martyrdom should be acknowledged.

Here's Poldine acknowledging it with a nose kiss, because Poldine.

I stopped so they could have their little chat.

2. Pirou has been chatting with a lot of new friends lately—we met these horses on a walk and he was so happy to stop and touch noses with them while making equid noises. Llamas are good with the nose-touching but their llama noises are just less interesting to Pirlouit. He had such interested ears here! "Finally a serious grown-up conversation"

We also met this goose during the same walk and Pirlouit was a lot less eager to go say hi to her. The goose was yelling threats at us and we prudently stayed away, and Pirou was clearly thinking "this bird is doing a better job at protecting her home from intruders than Pandolf ever could" (it's true, Pan assumes intruders are friends until proven otherwise)

3. You'll notice that there are houses in this pic! Our walks got longer and longer until one day we went all the way to the village (it took 1 hour 20min at Pirlouit's leisurely pace). I was so proud of him. I've been trying to convince my friends to go to the village on donkeyback (this requires two people, because you can ride Pirlouit but you can't tell him where to go unless there's someone holding his rope and leading the way)—my friends were reluctant because they still sort of perceive Pirou as the feral animal terrified of everything that he was when I got him. They know he's made a lot of progress but going to town on donkeyback still seemed foolhardy.

So we've been riding Pirlouit in the woods, in familiar environments, and we also went to town with him but without riding him. He was amazingly calm and brave! There's a river that cuts the village in two and the first time we went, we stopped before the bridge, since it's pretty narrow and cars would have to drive very close to Pirlouit, we didn't want to risk it. We just went to say hi to the librarian who lives on the right side of the river, but since Pirlouit was very serene, we did cross the bridge the second time.

He did not care at all about cars driving very close to him (he had one familiar human on either side of him and the drivers were very considerate and went slowly), which emboldened us to stop for a drink on the terrace of the coffeeshop on main street (< also a narrow street with cars driving by quite close to Pirlouit). There was just no problem at all, Pirou let total strangers rub his forehead and was more interested in iced tea than main street traffic.

It was a hot day and we gave him all the ice cubes from our drinks and he chewed them enthusiastically.

4. We made a stop at the pharmacy on our way home because we had another 1 hour 20min walk ahead and I had a blister, and the pharmacist noticed my donkey parked outside his shop and in a determined tone he said, "I want to try something." He took one of the donkey milk soaps from the overpriced-Provence-soaps-for-tourists display and opened the door and offered it for Pirlouit to sniff.

... I'm not sure what he was expecting—for my donkey to go "ohhh this smells like Mother's milk and aloe vera 🥺"—but unfortunately nothing happened.

(4. bis—Sorry, this 4th fact was anticlimactic.)

5. Pirlouit is now the proud owner of a surcingle. Not for equestrian vaulting and not for his log-carrying job because I don't know if it would be solid enough for the weight of a bag full of logs, but I'd like to tie bags or baskets to it to take Pirlouit grocery shopping, now that I know he's okay with going to town :) He even seems to enjoy the adventure, and the attention he gets from children.

And actually I shouldn't write off equestrian vaulting because Pirou is also remarkably chill with weird things happening on his back. I used to be very careful to climb on his back in a quick & fluid way so he wouldn't spook (because he used to! a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil used to spook him!) but now that my friends are riding him I can confirm we've reached a point where you can climb on Pirlouit's back in any way you want and he'll just be like "...... sure"

6. I almost forgot to mention that Pirou turned 15 last month, according to his ID papers :) Donkeys have a longer life expectancy than horses, they can live 30-40 years on average so he's still a young lad really. Happy 15th birthday Pirlouit :)

7. I wanted to conclude with a nice aesthetic pic of Pirou's shadow on the road during all those walks, like I did with Poldine, but unfortunately donkey shadows do not have the chic je-ne-sais-quoi of llama shadows. Pirlouit looks like a hammerhead shark wearing a tiny fez and that's not his fault.

#crawling along #i am so proud of him!#4 years ago i couldn't even touch him let alone halter him let alone... any of this #he's a great donkey. very curious and interested in the world around him especially iced tea bottles

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peachysunrize · 3 months

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The other Woman ⥃ senator! Aemond Targaryen

Summary: you were supposed to be a secret, his temptation in the dark not his scandal after the taste of heaven you experienced together.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smut, like literally so much smut, p in v, angst (so much angst), age gap (Aemond is 36 reader is 25. It’s not specified but since he’s a candidate he should be over 35), cheating & infidelity, heavy alcohol consumption (one scene), breeding, humiliation (a little bit), oral (f & m receiving ), rough sex, illicit affair, modern westerosi senator Aemond (doing this because I have no idea about real life election and political debates and how they take place and I can change it however I like), near death experience, car accident and driving while drunk, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! English isn’t my first language.

Word count: 8.58k+ (no beta we die like Beesburybury)

A/n: so, this thought was originally a very dark concept, but I changed it because now it’s much more interesting than the first one lol. Long, smutty, angst! The whole political idea is a sideline for the plot but it gives you an idea of what kind of Aemond we’re dealing with! Please reblog and comment and tell me your opinion!

A very special thank you to @namelesslosers for putting up with my crazy ideas<3😭💕

Every time you walk through this hallway, you ask yourself how you got into this situation. Perhaps it was at the first debate when you met him backstage; tall, dark, brooding, and quiet with a lazy smirk on his thin lips, as he pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles, side-eyeing your seething father in the process.

Maybe it was when you ran into him at another party, courtesy of being a senator's daughter and getting invited with high-class families. Your father had sent you there, “showing face” he explained, but you knew he wanted information. Aemond had danced around you that night, knowing exactly why you were there, talking and leading you on with conversations in the dark hallway of the mansion you were in.

It could have been the second debate as well. This time, it was not just backstage, but when he saw you in that denty dress you were wearing, he had cornered you and kept his heated gaze on your lips for a hot minute before he reached and pressed his thumb over your pillowy bottom lip.

Does it matter how it started? Certainly not, not when it’s been a good few months since this thing has been going on.

You stop in front of the hotel room; the only suite on the floor. Always cautious, always careful. You’ve been sneaking into this floor for weeks, entering the hotel from the back door to not be seen, taking the workers’ elevator and now, alone in the middle of this red carpeted floor, you ask yours again how you got yourself into this position. And the second you knock, all the worries and fears vanish.

Aemond opens the door, his cigarette burning between his long fingers as he gazes at you. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, his dress pants already tightened by his bubbling desire for you while he waited for hours to get out of his speech and meet with you.

He doesn’t say anything, pulling you in with his free hand, kicking the door shut before he pushes you against it, leaning over you with his forearm on the door and the other on your hip.

“Rough day?” You ask, running your palms over the pale skin of his abs, caressing his chest and stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Your father was unnerving today,” he rests his forehead on yours, breathing in your perfume, “I broke the pen when he started talking about how he’d do everything I wanted to do but better. Who makes a political debate like that? He can’t even stand for what he has planned to do.”

“He has the talent of getting under everyone’s skin, it doesn’t help that he’s a jealous man as well,” you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his high cheekbones.

“He does, a trait I’m sure I have seen in someone as well,” he bends down, prepping kisses over your cheek, “he told me I was too perfect to become a president. I have no fucking idea what he is after. He talks about me all the time instead of his plans, I think he’s obsessed with me.”

“Pity, I would have loved to see his face when he said that, knowing that the person he called perfect fucks his daughter every day,” you giggle when he bites down on your neck, making you hiss and thread your fingers through his long blonde hair.

“What were you doing if you weren't watching me beat your father to the pulp?” He keeps his assault on your neck, leaving marks and little swollen bites. He breaks away from your skin to take a drag of his cigarette, wrapping his thin pink lips around the paper edges as he inhales the smoke in, a deep hum drumming through his chest when he leans and presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your eager mouth.

You pull him closer, lapping at his tongue while you inhale the burning smoke, moaning in protest when he breaks the kiss sooner than you wished for. You blow out the remaining smoke to his face, biting your bottom lip as you find his good eye taking every inch of you in with his blown and foggy pupil.

“I was buying pretty dresses for you,” you whisper against his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently toward the bedroom, watching with hazy eyes as he inhales another pile of smoke, keeping his eye locked on the exposed skin of your shoulders.

He loves it when you wear dresses that leave your neck and shoulders bare; it’s tantalizing and alluring in the best way possible. They make him lose the tiny self-control he has and let go of his burdens and responsibilities. He likes how free you make him feel, younger and livelier.

“Hmm?” You giggle when he doesn’t realize what question you are responding to, already too drunk on your scent that has his mind in a mush.

“You asked what I was doing,” you guide him towards the bed, “I was shopping for your upcoming party, Mr. Senator. I have a public image to maintain.” “Yes, but not with flaunting yourself like a slut,” he hisses when you push him down on the mattress, and he takes his cigar and puts it out by pressing it on the ashtray atop his nightstand with a bit of difficulty.

“Don’t be mean, sir,” faking a pout, you unzip your dress slowly, knowing how possessive he can get even though you are not his in the eyes of the public, “it’s all for you anyway, I like to see your face when I come with my friends to your mansion, all dolled up just for you but no one can know.” “Ah yes, I often forget how much you enjoy being my mistress,” he says, licking his lips when you kick off your shoes and crawl onto his lap, his large warm palms coming up to rest on your bare hips.

“Don’t put all the blame on me, you said you’d never slept with your wife!” You push him on his back, grinning as you let your nails deep in his soft exposed skin, “You were the one who begged me to sleep with you anyway!”

“Hmm, and I’m glad that I did,” he smirks at you, pinching your hips, making you gasp, “now, I’ve had a very rough day with your father, be a good girl and take my mind off everything else that isn’t your sweet pussy.”

You nod obediently before starting to grind your clothed sex over the tent in his pants, moving your hips slowly but firmly, eliciting a deep groan from Aemond as he lies beneath you with his silver hair spread around his head like a shiny halo. You lean down, leaving kisses over his chest and abdomen as you slowly lower yourself on the floor, running your hands all over his thighs and slim waist, nuzzling your face into his crotch, and looking at him oh so sweetly when he sits up.

Aemond pushes your hair out of your face, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches you prep kisses over the fabric of his pants, fingers fidgeting with his belt, and once you have successfully undid it, you pull it out of the loops and drop it on the floor.

He chuckles lowly when you grab his zipper with your teeth, pulling it down slowly while you stare into his eye — the blue of his iris is completely gone. You pull his pants down when he unbuttons them, lifting his hips in the process for you. Aemond sighs as soon as his cock is free from the confines of his pants, closing his eye as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin.

“No underwear?” You tease him, reaching to hold his hot and twitching member in your hand, stroking it to full hardness while your free hand rubs soothing circles on his hip bone.

“The weather is too hot to wear anything under these horrendous dress pants,” he replies breathlessly when you lean down and start trailing kitten kisses from the base of his cock up to his tip, humming at the earthy and musky scent.

“And here I thought you were too desperate to give me easy access,” you mutter, taking his tip in your mouth, not letting him come up with a witty answer.

Aemond leans on his elbows, his hand finding its place on top of your head, not pushing down, but just to show you who’s in charge. His chest rises and falls rapidly when you swirl your tongue around him slowly, rubbing the tip of your tongue on the right places that you know make him weak and needy.

He groans, pushing your head down a little; a quick warning for you to remember that a dragon has no patience when the smell of fresh meat fills its senses.

You oblige, taking more of him in your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and guiding him further down your throat with both hands on the base of his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. He angles your face upwards, forcing you to look him in the eye as he fills your mouth and stretches your jaw with his girth.

“I will never get tired of this sight, fuck—” he throws his head back, his exhales getting sharper and deeper, “If only your father could see you like this; his daughter sucking off his enemy like it’s her last meal.”

You moan around him, brows twisted in a deep frown and eyes teary as he pushes you down, bobbing your head along his length at a pace he likes. In return, he rewards you with grunts and puffs of air that rumble through his chest and make you even more determined to bring him closer to his peak, but he pulls you off him as soon as he feels his dick twitching in your mouth, not wanting to come before he fucks you senseless.

You gasp for air when he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his glistening cock. He pulls you up by your hair, smashing his lips into yours, pulling you in for a deep messy kiss as he helps you straddle him again. You sit with your knees on each side of his hips, cupping his face in the process while your lips move languidly, fiercely, and harshly. The kiss is full of clashes of teeth and molding of tongues and wetness, something you both enjoy deeply.

Aemond’s hands wander over your naked form, squeezing your buttocks and scratching the dip of your waist with his trimmed nails before he switches your position and lies you down on the bed without breaking off the kiss. Spreading your legs for him, he moves and makes home between them quickly, rubbing his leaking cock to your clothed pussy, growling inside your mouth in desperation.

You pull your lips away from his lips, mouth falling open immediately when he nuzzles his face into your neck and starts sucking and biting on your flesh like a rabid dog, not letting go of your skin until he’s sure there are big and small blue and violet marks littered all over you.

“Fuck, Aemond just—ah!” You whimper when his long fingers rub over the wet patch on your panties, pressing and moving them up and down until you buck your hips to his hand, searching for more stimulation that he is depriving you of.

“Tsk tsk, use your words, darling,” he says, sinking his teeth into your earlobe while he moves your panties to the side, hovering his thumb over the hood of your clit, “how can I give into your every whim when you can’t speak up for you so?” He sounds disappointed, and it only brings tears to your eyes — more tears, considering he had you near crying when he was fucking your face.

“Please, I-I need…” you are cut off by a sharp gasp leaving your lips as Aemond’s thumb rubs around your puffy clit, not giving into your sweet whines and whimpers, not even caring how tempting they sound.

“Sweet girl, come on, tell me, do you want me to play with your pretty cunt? Hmm?” He asks in a serious tone, too serious for your liking, because when you look up at him with pouting and watery eyes, he tsks again, and you can feel the heat of his thumb near where you need him the most, but his finger is too far away.

“Yes, yes, please—“

“There is my good girl,” he kisses your tears away, finally caving in and giving you what you need, circling over your buzzing nerves gently but slowly, just the right way to have your mind shutting off to the point of the only thought that is left is him and his magical fingers.

You buck beneath him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other one grabbing his waist as he keeps his thumb pressed firmly into your clit, pressing kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks.

“Mmm, tastes so sweet, darling,” he whispers as he licks your tears, pushing a finger inside you as if testing the waters before adding another, scissoring your open for his cock slowly, thrusting them in and out faster than before.

“Aemond, please, I’ve been good!”

Your voice awakens something in him, something primal and hungry, ready to devour you whole. He groans in response, leaning down to kiss you feverishly, retrieving his fingers from you only to replace them with the tip of his cock, running it up and down against your drenched folds before pressing in slowly.

He pulls away from your lips, giving both of you time to catch your breath and relax as he carves his way within your gummy walls. You both moan in delight as he finally reaches your deepest parts, his hips flush against yours as the two of you try to catch your breath.

Aemond slowly draws his hips back before driving himself forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he gains speed. You fist the bedsheets, back arching in response to him hitting your sweet spot rapidly, drawing ragged breaths and little yelps of pleasure from your parted lips.

“So beautiful, fuck, darling,” he groans into your skin, straightening his back a little to hover his face over yours to look at you from a better angle, “I would set this town on fire for you.” “Aemond, I-I’m close—” You gasp when his finger travels down your stomach and reaches the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing it quickly, drawing you closer to your breaking point.

He isn’t in a better situation either; he is panting with his cock twitching deep inside you as his desire for you overflows his senses.

His rhythm falters as soon as you clamp around him tightly, gushing around him with a shout of his name, which sends him over the edge as well. He pulls out instantly, ignoring the your whine in protest before he sits on his knees next to your head, stroking his cock with his head thrown back.

“Open your mouth, darling—fuck, there she is, good girl…” he groans when you close your eyes and stick out your tongue, catching the ropes of his cum on your face and tongue. He whimpers out your name, his shoulders relaxing finally, tension leaving his body as he empties himself on you.

“Messy girl,” he taunts you, reaching to pull a napkin out of the nightstand’s drawer, lying down next to you to wipe his cum off your face gently, his other hand caressing your bare stomach and breasts to soothe you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You made a mess out of me, baby,” you say, smiling softly when he leans down to peck your lips after dropping the napkin back in its place, pushing his pants and shirt fully off to join you under the covers.

“Aemond?” you call him, laying your head on his chest when he pulls you closer, “I’m tired of this.”

“This? What do you mean?” he asks, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your back while he waits for you to answer him.

“This game of cat and mouse, always sneaking in, my father this my father that… I’m tired of being just a secret.” “You knew what you were getting yourself in when we first slept with each other,” Aemond huffs, “It’ll always be like this, darling. We would have to spend our days away from everyone.” “But Aemond, we can go on dates in so many ways! Please, we can go on a trip to Lys, no one knows you there, and we will leave all of this election and your political worries in King’s Landing!” You try to reason with him, turning around in his arms to look into his eye.

“Sweet girl, he reaches to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, “There is not much time left until the—”

“— election, I know. But you can spare three days to stay with me. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“Our lives and future will be ruined if we get caught. It will cause a huge scandal that I and my team are not ready to face. I might become the next president of Westeros, I need to win over your father.” He explains logically, and you feel stupid for mentioning the idea of going out and being seen in public with him.

“I’m sorry, I know… it was a dumb idea.” you avert your eyes away from him, biting your bottom lip as guilt and shame fills you. “Hey, look at me,” he gently switches positions so you lay beneath him again, “I wish we could go on dates and I had the chance to show you off. Maybe after all of this mess, I’ll be able to divorce my wife, but till then… As long as I have you in my arms, nothing matters.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The days pass quickly. You watch your father and Aemond in the news, paparazzi following you and your family around the city bombarding you with questions about things you didn’t care about. Until one day, your father receives an invitation from Aemond Targaryen himself for a party at his house.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your father called you and asked — more like demanding — that you should be the one attending this party. After all, he couldn’t put himself past that hatred to go to this party in his rival’s house. Apparently, his daughter could though, as if it wasn’t dangerous to send you to the dragon’s cave with no support.

You agreed a bit too eagerly, trying to play it off cool and keep calm while you panicked from inside. You’d be saying Aemond again, publicly, without sneaking from a back door, or a secret passageway.

Choosing a dress wasn’t difficult when you had the design of one of Aemond’s mom’s dresses; a knee-length dress in light blue and off-shoulder with a little cut that exposed your lower thigh, knowing how crazy Aemond would get if he saw you in things he has bought for you.

Your curls fall around your shoulders as you walk toward the main entrance of the mansion, catching the attention of all the photographers and guests. You walk up the stairs that lead to the house, eyes searching for the silhouette of the only person you care for in this messy crowd.

You find him easily; his long hair shines underneath the dim light of the hall, and his tall frame and the champagne in his hands stand proudly among the people who look so simple and boring compared to him.

He is wearing a long deep blue coat with thin silver embroideries on it with a black shirt and pants, and next to him… you just catch the eyes of his wife, Floris Baratheon-Targaryen, who is smiling proudly at the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them.

“Ah, love, look who’s here,” she threads her fingers through Aemond’s, excusing themselves as the pair come to greet you. Floris is beautiful with long black hair and a charming smile — no wonder she is Aemond’s wife, the perfect image of a dutiful wife, “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”

You accept her hand, shaking it gently before you avert your eyes from her to her husband, locking your eyes with his as you try not to let him see any emotion on your face. You are ashamed of yourself, Floris looks like a kind soul, and you have been having an affair with her husband for months, but even now that you have met her, the guilt and shame are not enough for you to step away from what you have with Aemond.

“How is your father? Not too sour I hope,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around Floris’ waist as he has always done with you in the confines of his hotel room.

“Why would he be sour, Mr. Targaryen? Last time I checked the numbers were quite against your favor,” you reply, thanking the waiter who brings you a glass of champagne, “He made sure I show you his gratitude for the invitation. He was horribly upset for not being able to join us tonight.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckles darkly and you can see how his fingers clench the fabric of Floris’ dress, “He is a busy man, he should be thinking of a backup plan after he loses to me.”

“Is that what you are doing, sir? I assume this party…is your way of gaining support now, isn’t it?”

“Aemond,” his wife utters, smiling hesitantly at him, “maybe you should show our new gallery to her, politics can be a hard topic to talk about in such a noisy place.” “Splendid idea, wife,” Aemond kisses Floris’ forehead while his eye is solely focused on you, “Shall we, Miss?” he offers you his arm, looking around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you or not.

“I would love to,” you say through gritted teeth, an ugly jealousy bubbling inside you as you loop your arm with his, walking side by side to the new gallery. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, it is not your place to have complicated emotions when you are the other woman.

“After you,” he holds the door open for you, his eye scanning you from head to toe, catching the sight of his mother’s designer dress before he leads you inside the gallery, closing the door shut and locking it from inside.

“Didn’t know you were into art, Aemond. It’s a welcoming surprise,” you say, sipping on your drink while you walk past him, not sparing him a glass as you look at the paintings.”

“You need to work on your emotions, darling,” he says, putting his champagne glass on the nearest table he can find before he makes his way to you, “We wouldn’t want everyone to find out how close we actually are.” “No, Aemond, you don’t want that,” you chuckle in disbelief, drinking the rest of the remaining liquor in your glass before you put it on the same table as he did, standing in front of him with a burning rage inside your eyes, “I want them to know! I’m sick of this, I don’t deserve to be a whore for you in secret!”

“This was what we agreed on!” his voice echoes in the room as he grabs you by the nape of your hair, bringing your face closer to his, “whore or not, I can't bear to lose the elections I have been working my whole life for! And I can’t… I can’t lose you either—” You both turn around when a loud banging sound comes from the other side of the room. You look at Aemond in terror, stepping closer to him before you hear the door at the end of the hall is pushed open. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward a narrow and dark hallway that is attached to the gallery. You have a clear view of the paintings and the waiters who are carrying several drinks together, luckily, it can’t be said for them. They would need to round the corner and bend down a little to find this place. Aemond pushes you against the wall, his large palm covering your mouth as footsteps grow quieter when they leave the gallery.

“Aemo—mmh!” he doesn’t let you finish as he silences you with his mouth engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, his fingers clutching your hips like his life depends on touching you, breathing in your scent, and tasting your lipstick.

“Shh, be quiet,” he turns you around, pressing his chest to your back before he reaches down to pull your dress up to your hips, mouthing at your neck as his hand finds the hem of your underwear.

“We shouldn’t do it here, Aemond, we might get caught!” you hiss at him, gasping when he pushes your panties to the side, running the pad of his fingers along your slit, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know about us, hmm?” He teases you, letting go of your wet folds for a second as he unbuckles his belt, unzips, and pushes his pants down enough to pull his cock out.

“Not like this!” You sigh desperately, hands bracing your weight on the wall when he lines his leaking tip with your entrance, thrusting his full length inside you with ease.

He slaps his hand on your mouth again when he is completely sheathed inside your warm and dripping cunt, muffling your noises as best as he can before he starts thrusting into you with abandon.

In his mind, you look too beautiful, too gorgeous and breathtaking, and the longer he looks at you, the more passionate he is about driving his cock inside you, fucking you with all his love and adoration.

“You make me go fucking crazy,” he nearly growls, his hips pistoning against yours as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, eye closed and cheeks painted pink. He pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, his own lips parted as ragged breaths and throaty groans fall from them.

You are a mess just as he is; eyes closed, hips moving with each of his abandoned and reckless thrusts, while your body floats in pleasure. It’s quick, sudden, and mind wrecking; you come with a muffled scream around his thick fingers, and he follows you as soon as your walls tighten around him, squeezing the cum out of his cock.

He presses you to the wall, groaning and panting as he fills you to the brim, his teeth catching your earlobe while he tries to ground himself with all the euphoria running through his veins.

“Aemond,” you pull his digits out of your mouth, resting your head on his shoulders as the two of you try to regain your breaths, heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal.

“Lys…” he says, and you crane your neck to look at him in confusion, “Pack your bag for a few days.”

“What?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful as you stare at him, he grins in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “We’re going to Lys.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” He winks at you and pulls his softened cock out of you slowly before he makes himself presentable again, his hands finding their place on your hips once again, “now, don’t sulk anymore. You’re too lovely to be upset because of me.”

“I was not sulking, but… but what about the paparazzi? The election? Are you sure?” You shake a little, maybe both in fear and excitement before you cup his face, staring into his ocean-blue eye.

“Shh, don’t fret, I have thought about everything. No one knows who we are and we’ll stay in a yacht. I have talked to Cole to get it ready for us.”

“You… you are amazing, Aemond!” You crash your lips to him, pressing several kisses to his face, leaving careless red marks on his pale skin.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling as you keep your assault on his face, “but we should head back to the party. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” I laugh a little before fixing your hair and sneaking out of your hiding place.

“I’ll meet you outside, alright, sweet girl?” He asks you, pecking your lips before pointing to one of the paintings to make it seem you are still busy looking at the new art hanging on the wall while he unlocks and moves out of the room.

Floris finds him instantly, moving towards him with a man who follows her as well, eager to meet him. Aemond clears his throat when they reach the door of the gallery, pulling him into a conversation he has no choice but to join.

Oblivious to him, his wife’s eyes catch the faint red lipstick stain under his jaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

If you were told that this country was this beautiful, you would’ve never believed them. Everything is brighter in color, people have no clue who you are which makes everything much more exciting.

You’ve been in Lys for two days already, fucking on every surface of the yacht, quickies in different places around the city, sightseeing, and spending time together.

It was all you’ve ever wanted from this relationship; some peaceful alone time as a couple, not as a secret.

There is a weird feeling of being watched by someone that has been with you since you stepped inside the city as if someone is following you around. At first, you thought it could be a photographer who somehow caught sight of you and decided to make money out of it. But again, no one knows who either you or Aemond is…

You don’t pay attention to it, but the feeling is still with you as soon as you step on the deck of the yacht, your sundress moving with the wind as you gaze over the sea.

“Not very thoughtful of you to leave me all alone in the bed,” Aemond says, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets, “I missed you already.”

“That’s good to know because I’ve missed you too,” you turn around, moving to the cushions that are secured to the deck before lying down on them, stretching yourself as he stands tall above you, “more so your mouth.”

“Insatiable beast,” he calls you, “what have I done to deserve you?” He drops on his knees and crawls towards you, a wicked grin on his face as he reaches your ankle, grabbing and pulling you towards him with ease.

“Your mouth is a miracle, I’ve been blessed to witness it with my own eyes,” you match his tone, spreading your legs for him.

As soon as his eye falls on your bare pussy, he lets out a long sigh in delight before latching his mouth to the flesh of your thighs, kissing and nibbling as he makes his way up to your center, flattening his lavish tongue against your folds, licking a fat stripe of your wetness before humming and kissing your clit.

You lay back, letting him take care of you slowly, building your pleasure until you break under his touch. He starts with slow licks and kisses, making lews sounds as he gains his speed, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while he keeps you in place.

Throwing your head back, you moan his name, fingers tangling themselves in his soft silky hair as he speeds up and shoves his face further between your thighs, his large nose nudging your clit in the best way possible.

You open your eyes and look around; the view is mesmerizing. Next to where you are is a huge wood that separates the city from Aemond’s private dock, yet the greens of the trees don’t catch your attention but a sudden flash of light does. It happens again, this time a bit faster, a bit closer. It could be anything, maybe a reflection of light, and you desperately hope that is the case and the flash doesn’t belong to a camera.

Luckily, Aemond’s tongue distracts you from your thoughts, and you arch your back when his thumb joins the patterns he is drawing on your nerves. You look down at him, catching the raw emotions that dance in his eye; adoration, love if you dare say. Soon, when he makes you come, all the thoughts of those mysterious flashes are gone, and only pleasure is left for you to focus on — the knot he created, snaps, and ecstasy rushes in your blood.

“Baby,” you pull him up, chest heaving with delight as your legs stop shaking, “I think I saw someone.”

“No one is allowed here, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says between kisses on your chest as he makes his way up your stomach to kiss you.

“But it looked like a camera flash,” You kiss him back slowly, lying on your side to face him, “Are you sure no one can go past your guards?” “Yes, please, don’t think about it. It’s just you and me, darling.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been twenty days since the last time you heard his voice, twenty days of agony and pain. You were caught, you did not imagine things. The day you arrived at King’s Landing, you saw the news; your pictures from your trip with him were all over the internet, the moment on the night, the kissing in the sea, wandering in the city — your illicit affair was publicized. By whom you have no idea. Maybe Aemond’s wife, maybe your father, but at the end of the day, nothing hurt more than when after days of trying to contact your lover, he broke everything off with a single text from his assistant.

After that, your parents cast you aside; your mom screamed at you while your father cheered in victory. After all, those pictures caused a huge scandal and rift in his rival’s team. He didn’t care what would happen to you as long as you didn’t do anything like this again that would result in his downfall. They closed your bank accounts that they had access to and left you alone on your own. Fortunately, you weren’t too dependent on your father’s money and had persued a career to pay for your necessities, but now, none of it mattered.

Your days pass numbly with hundreds of calls and texts to Aemond. There is nothing left inside you willing to get up and do something, to fix this mess even a little, to pull yourself out of this deep hole you have dug with your hands.

You read the text again as you curl on the loveseat, sobbing and clutching your phone to your chest. Mr. Taragryen has no interest in being involved with you anymore, and the more you read it, the more your body ache for him. It feels like a knife being shoved inside your chest, twisting and ripping your lungs in the process while you melt under the sharpness of it, taking it because you have no choice left but to do so.

You did it to yourself; what were you thinking? How did you ever think that getting involved with an important man was a good idea? A married and much older one at that. Now you scroll through the leaked pictures with a heavy heart and silent tears running down your face. The headlines are cruel, far worse than you had ever thought about.

Whore of a daughter wins the election for the father!

Aemond Targaryen cheats on his wife with his rival’s daughter; several intimate pictures have been caught during their visit to Lys…

Aemond Targaryen, an honorable man seduced by a younger girl, WESTEROSI reports…

You throw your phone on the floor, nearly falling from the loveseat from how aggressively you move. You want to scream from the top of your lungs, to curse and shout, but it was your idea to go somewhere, for him to take you on a date. It is all your fault.

The doorbell rings and startles you. You get up immediately, thinking it must be your parents or one of your friends to come and check up on you, but when you open the door with bloodshot eyes and find Aemond standing there, your knees nearly give out.

“A-Aemond?” you stutter, eyes watering at the sight of his messy clothes and hair — he looks just as fucked up as you.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” with one step, his arms engulf you in a tight embrace, and you cry. Fat ugly tears run down your face as he holds you close, his own tears falling after days of being apart from you. He couldn't stay away, he had to come and see you. Every day without you felt like a lifetime, never-ending torture he had to endure while Criston and his mother did everything they could to save his public image, and Floris, well, she was quite content with everything.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he presses several kisses to the crown of your head, holding you incredibly close to him as he leads you back into your house, shutting the door behind him. You have your arms wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders as he sits you down on the couch, making sure to pull you into his lap so you won’t feel alone again.

“Aemond?” you ask, your voice so little, so fragile that it breaks his heart into million pieces.

“Yes, darling?” he lifts your head, his thumb wiping your tears gently while he shushes you, watching your lips tremble in disbelief, “Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Why did you let go of me so easily?” you ask, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “I was so alone, I-I am alone, I have no one! How could you—” you hiccup, a sob wrecking your body as you talk.

“I had to, sweet girl, I had to. My public image, my campaign, everything was near destruction if it weren’t for the distance between us. I had to do it.”

“I lost everything, Aemond! My parents, my friends… I was called a whore, your mistress, a side chick. You nearly lost everything, I did lose everything!” you gasp for air as another wave of pain spreads in your chest.

“What can I do for you, darling? I’m here now, I’ll do whatever you wish for me to do, please,” he begs, the first and probably the last time you’ll hear Aemond Targaryen plead for something.

“I love you, Aemond, please make the pain go away.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a slow kiss, painting his devotion on the canvas of your lips as he moves them together. He feels you relax in his arms when you start kissing him back. He lies you on the couch gently, never breaking the kiss as he sucks the breath out of your lungs with each passing second that e tastes you.

You melt under his touch, the fingers you adore so much move along the length of your body. His lips let go of yours for a second before he hovers atop you completely and brings you in for another deep kiss. His fingers are cold against your heated skin as they move your shirt upward, to eventually pull the fabric off your head.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips to your neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over your jaw and collarbones as he moves lower until he reaches your bra. He circles his hand to unhook it, and he does, he pushes the strap on one of your shoulders down slowly before he stops.

Aemond stops.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as he moves his face away from your shoulder to kiss you fiercely for a hot few seconds before he pulls away, shaking his head in shame.

“Ae-Aemond, why did you…” “No…” he says, a few tears fall from his remaining eye as he gazes at you past his wet lashes, “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” your voice quivers, and Aemond stands up immediately when he hears how broken you sound, leaving you half-naked on your couch, “Aemond, please!”

“I can’t make the same mistake twice,” he mutters as he moves toward the entrance door, “I still have a chance. I can win the election, I can—” “A mistake? Do you truly feel we were a mistake?”

“I am sure we were. We have ruined our lives for what? For sex, for lust?”

“For love!” you scream, holding your hand to your chest to prevent your bra from falling, “I didn’t want anything from you; not your money, not any status, I wanted you, just you.”

“I can’t do this—”

“Aemond, please, no!” You cry out running to block his way, “Don’t go, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t take it if you leave me all alone, I have lost everything for you! Please, please—”

He cups your cheek, pressing one last lingering kiss while his own tears fall on your cheek, “Goodbye.” He moves past you and leaves.

“NO!” you break down and fall on your knees, and for once in your life, you feel truly helpless.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

You don’t remember how long has it been since that day; it could be a few days, or months. You don’t even remember how you got into this dingy dirty bar close to your place. It’s dark and gloomy with a heavy rain thrumming outside the window while you drown your sixth shot of bourbon.

You are not an alcoholic, in fact, the only time you drink is at parties and formal events. Tonight though, you need to let go and unwind for a bit and unfortunately, in a very apathetic mood, you decided that drinking was the best option.

The lovely bartender glares at you when you ask for another shot but doesn’t say anything and does as you ask, keeping a close eye on you to make sure you’ll be alright.

You keep staring at the rim of your glass, eyes filled with tears and sorrow until someone slides into the stool next to you. Looking up, you see a familiar face, Aemond’s wife. What is she doing here? Does she want to taunt you even more? To make sure you are suffering far worse than she did? “I see you are adapting well to the new changes,” Floris says, pointing at the bartender to pour her whatever you are drinking.

“Are you following me now?” you scoff, drowning the amber liquid in your glass, “Wasn’t my public humiliation enough for you?”

“You were fucking my husband, of course, it will never be enough. You should suffer for how you ruined his reputation,” she looks at you, waiting for you to come up with a witty reply.

“He said you never slept with each other…” You whisper in response, “He loved me.” “How fucking naive you are. He never loved you, he lied to your face and you still defend him,” she sneers, running a hand through her wild black curls, “He used you, it was all a part of his plans. You were just a pawn in his game.”

“He didn’t… he-he…” you take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Floris of all people. He didn’t do these things, Aemond would never do that to you. He has no reason to, or does he?

“Do you truly think these numbers just go up and down because of the citizens? Aemond changed them to his liking, he has never had the intention of winning this year. He wants to be remembered so he may come back stronger than before and take over Westeros—”

“You don’t make any fucking sense! Leave me alone,” You stand up to move away from her, but she grabs your arms before you have the chance to run away.

“He used you to gain information from your father’s campaign! I just helped him speed things up by hiring those photographers,”

“It was you… you ruined my life,” you pull your hand out of her grip, “You destroyed everything he has worked so hard for! How could you do this to your husband?” “He was cheating on me!”

“So were you! You were cheating too!” you yell at her before grabbing your purse and running out of the bar, crying hysterically. Nothing makes sense, you don’t know how you held that conversation for so long. What she said or what you replied repeats in your head, but it’s all a blur, a mess of words and echoes of high-pitched screams.

You reach your car, stumbling on your feet as you get in with some difficulty. Driving while awfully drunk is not a good decision, but you must get away from Floris, the bar, and everyone. Firing the engine, you pull the car out of the park, driving past the speed limit into the alley without looking around you.

You can’t see, you can’t hear, and all you can do is speed up while heavy tears fall from your eyes once more as you think about everything you shared with Aemond. Was any of it real? Were you a silly fling for him to gain information?

Suddenly, the sound of a horn catches your attention, and you see the light of another car coming your way. You try to break, but every time you press the pedal, the car doesn’t stop. Each time you fail, and you realize too late that you’ll either crash into the other car or you try to do something.

But time isn’t always on your side, and the last thing you see before blacking out is how your car hits the tree and the airbags open.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Aemond bolts through hospital doors, repeating your name until someone pays attention and shows him the way to the ER. As soon as he reaches the end of the hallway, the doctor steps out and tries to calm him.

“How is she? What happened?”

“Calm down, sir, she’s alright—“

“I need to see her, please, let me go inside—“

The doctor declines, grabbing Aemond’s shoulders when he tries to step inside the room, “She’s under anesthesia, she probably won’t be up until noon. She has lost so much blood, two broken ribs, and a minor head trauma. She’s lucky she’s alive.”

The doctor leaves him alone, and Aemond slides down on the hospital floor, resting his head on the wall as he thinks about how terrible you must have felt when he left without any further explanation.

He cries softly, shoulders shaking with each sob that shocks his body. He’s not known to be a vulnerable person, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been changing; a bit softer around the edges of his heart, he smiles more, he relaxes more often than not, and he’s been much happier. But now, the thought of you going through such a horrible thing while he was away sleeping in his bed makes him hate himself even more for what he put you through.

He totally forgets about the elections that are taking place today, he can’t care less about what would happen, it means nothing when he can’t have you next to him. He declines every call from his mom and assistant, only sending a text to say he won’t return for the day.

His heart pops out of his chest when he sees the nurses pushing your bed towards one of the rooms.

“How is she?” He asks, looking down at your unconscious body. How beautiful you look even with bruises and wounds over your face.

“She’ll be fine, sir,” one of the nurses says, “all she needs is rest and good company.”

“When will she wake up?” He swallows, watching them closely while they hang your serums and connect different tubes.

“Hopefully in a few hours. Her body has experienced too much trauma and she should take as much rest as she can.”

He nods in agreement, waiting for them to leave before h breaks down, reaching to hold your sofy hand in his, kissing all over your knuckles and fingers, whispering praises of how he’ll cherish you and won’t leave you ever, he won’t put you through what he did again. He falls asleep with your hands in his, dried tears adoring his high cheekbones. He feels a soft hand reaching to wipe the remaining wetness, leaving soft caresses over his skin.

He opens his eye, finding you smiling softly at him as best as you can while fighting the pain. He sniffles and presses his lips desperately to the back of your hand, thanking the Seven for bringing you back to him.

“Hey,”

“Shh, please, don’t talk. You need to rest,” he reaches to push your hair out of your forehead, letting his fingers linger on your face for a little while before he holds your hand again, “what happened?”

“Well…” you cough, wincing in discomfort and pain before you continue, “I got drunk and…your wife came. We argued, she said some…nasty things about you…”

“What did she say, sweet girl?” He asks hesitantly, keeping his lips locked to your hand, “Don’t push yourself too much. If it bothers you—“

“She sent the photographers,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, “she confessed it herself. She sent them because she wanted to help you. She said you didn’t want to win the elections, that you…you just used me to gain information on my father’s doings.”

“I would never do that, love, I would kill myself rather than ever thinking about hurting you.”

“But you did, Aemond. You hurt me when you left me at my house like garbage needed to be dumped. I was so alone, everyone left me, why does everyone leave me?” You ask, teardrops streaming down your cheeks.

“I will never leave you again, I’d never make the same mistake twice.” He reaches to wipe your tears gently, minding your injuries.

“You called our relationship a mistake too, Aemond…”

“I was angry at myself for not protecting us, for not filing the divorce papers sooner!” He says, desperation dripping from his words like honey, “I needed to step away, to convince Floris to be done with this marriage. I’ll be yours forever in a few days.”

“You… you’re getting a divorce? You just lost the election and-and you’re… how are you not freaking out, Aemond?”

“Because none of these matter as long as you’re with me. You brighten up my world, sweet girl. My life orbits around your smile and I can’t… I can’t let go of you again.”

“I won’t be your affair anymore, n-not your other woman…”

“No, sweet girl, you’ll be my only woman.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond smut

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itneverendshere · 16 days

Note

wait , pouge! reader not coming to work after a huge storm and rafes worried he hasn’t seen her or heard from her in a while, so he goes to checks and o maybe she’s been trying to fix something that happened? like a fallen tree in her driveway, or no electrician has come to help her turn the lights on

scared of nothin' & i'm scared to death - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader word count: 2.9k

from this universe: birds of a feather & it could be you and me (this is before they start dating eheh)

Rafe Cameron rarely felt scared.

He hardly knew what that meant. He knew anger, violence and gut-wrenching pain, but never fear.

Storms were common in the Outer Banks. He never gave them a second thought; his house was more than equipped to handle them.

But last night, as he stared out at the growing storm from his mansion's balcony, something in his chest tightened. He couldn’t stop imagining the image of you—you, living in a run-down house on the edge of The Cut. The wind picked up, howling through the trees as the sky turned darker by the minute. His knuckles went white against the balcony rail.

He was scared.

Somehow, the pretty bartender from the country club had nailed the final nail in the coffin. He was smitten, there was no way back. He'd been a goner since the first day he drove you home.

So, when you didn’t show up for your shift earlier this morning, he panicked. He hadn’t seen you or the beat-up car you’d recently started to drive to work. He hated that stupid car with all his power, but you’d looked at him so happily that he could hardly scold you for driving around a safety hazard on the nights he couldn’t get you home.

He had called you nine times already. Each time, it had gone straight to voicemail. His texts were left on read—or maybe not even read at all. He couldn’t tell. He knew the power was probably out in half of The Cut, and maybe that explained why you hadn't answered, but it didn’t ease the knot of panic growing in his gut.

The storm had been a beast—trees were down, power lines were tangled. There was no sign of you and that fear just wouldn’t leave him alone.

By lunchtime, he was freaking the fuck out.

He knew you didn’t always have a reliable ride, especially with that piece of shit thing you called car, and he had promised himself that he would always be there to make sure you got home safely after your shifts, as often as he could. But now, with no word from you and no sign of you at work, he was convinced that something had gone wrong.

“Rafe, you alright, man?” Topper’s voice cut through his thoughts as he sipped his beer at the Wreck. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He looked up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, just—uh, just worried about someone.”

Topper raised an eyebrow, “Anyone I know?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

"Alright, chill, man. Just asking."

Where the hell were you? His phone buzzed on the table, and he snatched it up, hoping it was you. It wasn’t. Just another useless notification that only made his frustration grow.

“Dude,” Topper started again, this time more carefully, “is it her? The girl from the club?”

Rafe stiffened. He hadn’t told anyone how deep this thing with you went. He wasn’t going to jinx the best thing that had happened to him in years. But he was on the verge of losing it.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered, “It’s her.”

Topper nodded slowly, “You want to go look for her?”

Rafe hesitated. He hated the idea of any of his friends having the pleasure of meeting you, you were too good for any of them, himself included. But he was running out of options.

“Yeah,” he said it more firmly this time. “Let’s go.”

He stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. He had to find you, and he had to find you now. Topper downed the last of his beer and followed him out of the Wreck without another word.

The drive to your house felt longer than usual, even though he was speeding through the roads, having to swerve around fallen branches and debris scattered across the asphalt. The closer he got to your place the more scared he felt.

When he finally pulled up to your driveway, his heart dropped to his feet.

A massive tree had fallen across the entrance, blocking any vehicle from getting through. Your car was nowhere in sight, and the house looked scarily quiet.

“Shit,” Rafe muttered under his breath, slamming the car door behind him. Topper was right behind him as he made his way toward the house, climbing over the fallen tree with ease.

He knocked on your front door, first gently, then with increasing force.

“Sweetheart? You in there?” he called, his voice louder than he intended. There was no answer. It wasn’t helping his nerves at all. He wasn’t about to wait around, though. He tried the door handle—it was locked.

“What if she’s not home?”

“I’m getting in there one way or another,” Rafe snapped, his patience completely gone. He circled around the house, looking for another way in, when he noticed a side window cracked open. He didn’t think twice before pushing it up and hauling himself through it.

“Dude, seriously?” Topper groaned from outside, but he ignored him. He landed in what looked like your living room, immediately taking in the mess of scattered items, likely from the storm. He’d never been inside your house before.

“Sweetheart?” He called again, moving through the house with long strides. He could feel the panic rising higher in his chest.

And then, he heard it—a faint noise coming from down the hallway. He followed it, his heart pounding in his ears. When he reached your bedroom, he found you sitting on the floor, trying to untangle wires from a flashlight, your phone dead beside you. The relief that took over his entire body was so overwhelming he nearly collapsed.

“Rafe?” you looked up, confused, not expecting him to be there. Your face was smudged with dirt, and you looked exhausted.

“What the hell are you doing?” He dropped to his knees next to you, ignoring the way his voice sounded a little strained. He crouched closer, beside you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You let out a shaky laugh, “I—I’ve been trying to get the power back on. The storm knocked out everything, and the tree in the driveway…I didn’t know who to call, and then my phone died.”

Me, he wanted to scream. You should’ve called him. He wanted to be angry at you for not picking up, for not letting him know you were okay.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, his voice all rough around the edges. The thought of you here, alone was going to send him into a spiral, "You should've called me," he reached for the dead phone beside you. "You know you don’t have to deal with this shit alone."

"I tried, but then everything went out. I didn’t want to bother anyone. I figured I'd just wait it out."

Rafe shook his head, his hand still lingering on your cheek for a moment before he pulled it back, resisting the urge to drag you into his arms. Bother anyone? He wanted to laugh. Didn’t you fucking know by now? He would drop everything the second you needed him.

“Really, didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, feeling a little silly now that he was here.

“Bother me?” He echoed in disbelief. “I’ve been worried sick.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” he cut you off, “You never think about yourself. You’re always so damn worried about everyone else, but what about you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just—don’t do that again,” He nearly pleaded, pulling you into his arms. He held you tightly like he was afraid you’d disappear again if he let go, "You scared the hell out of me," he confessed, "I thought something happened to you."

You weren’t used to someone caring that much, and especially not someone like Rafe Cameron.

You leaned into him, finally letting go of the tension that had been knotting in your stomach all day. “I won’t,” you promised, closing your eyes.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re staying with me until this place is fixed up. No arguments.”

You blinked up at him, not sure how to respond to that. He was a complicated guy—intense and often described as a little scary by most people—but in that moment, you could see the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t leaving.

You were too tired to argue, and honestly, the idea of not being alone sounded amazing, “Okay.”

Topper peeked his head in the room, awkwardly glancing between you two.

"Everything cool in here?"

"Yeah, Top," Rafe said without looking back, his focus solely on you. "She's fine. We’re heading out.”

Topper nodded, “You want me to drive? There’s not much room up front with all the stuff you’ve got in there.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly “Nah, you’re sitting in the back. She’s riding up front with me.”

“In the back?”

You looked between the two men, amused by the way Topper seemed slightly offended yet intrigued.

“It’s okay, I can sit—"

Rafe cut you off, shaking his head firmly. “No fucking way. You’re sitting up front with me. End of discussion.”

There was a certain protectiveness in the way he spoke, like the idea of anyone else being close to you right now was simply unacceptable. Top, always sensing when to stay out of his way, just shrugged and backed out of the room, leaving the two of you alone again.

He needed you close. Needed to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t have a single scratch on your body. You felt a smile tug at your lips at Rafe’s insistence. He was so endearing to you. You knew he’d find you critically insane if you said it out loud.

“Come on,” he stood up and offered his hand to help you off the floor. His touch was firm but gentle, his fingers lingering against yours for a second longer than necessary.

You glanced around your room, realizing how much of a mess it was—the scattered clothes, the tangled flashlight that was still not working, "I should probably clean up first," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by how little you had.

He shook his head immediately. “No, not now. You can come back later. M’ not leaving you here alone tonight, again.”

You wanted to protest, but something about the way he said it made you bite back your tongue. You quickly learned there was no point in fighting him when his mind was set like this.

"Okay," you agreed quietly.

His jaw unclenched slightly at your compliance, and he helped you gather a few things—a change of clothes, your phone charger, and anything else you might need for the night. Once you had everything packed, he led you back out through the house. The debris in the hallway didn’t seem as overwhelming with him by your side.

You climbed back out the same window he had crawled through earlier, and Topper was waiting by the car, kicking at a loose rock with his shoe to pass the time. Rafe guided you to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, his hand brushing your lower back as you slid into the seat. As soon as you were seated, he leaned over, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed the seatbelt.

"Let me," he murmured, his breath brushing against your cheek as he clicked the seatbelt into place. His closeness made you hold your breath, but you managed to keep your composure, offering him a small nod of thanks.

He stayed in that position for a moment, his face inches from yours, searching your face for any sign of distress. You could see the gears turning in his brain. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave the seatbelt a final tug to make sure it was secure, then slowly leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re okay.”

He said it quietly, more to himself than to you, before he climbed in behind the wheel, looking over at you, one more time, like he was making sure you were really there, really safe.

You offered him a crooked grin, trying to reassure him that you were okay, “I’m fine.”

Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips—a fleeting cute peck, just enough to show him your gratitude and affection. His lips were warm, slightly chapped from the day, but they felt perfect against yours. It was quick, but you knew you’d think about this moment for the rest of your life.

Rafe blinked, momentarily thrown off, but then his lips gave in to a small, genuine smile—a rare sight for him. He liked it. He liked it more than he should. He liked everything about you since day one. It felt like you were put on this earth to be with him.

Topper, ever the babbler, leaned forward from the back seat, knocking on the headrest. “Hey, lovebirds, you planning on leaving, or should I get comfortable back here?”

“Shut the fuck up Topper,” Rafe muttered, cheeks red, his eyes not leaving yours.

You giggled softly, the sound melting the last of the tension remaining in his body. His heart was still racing, but now for a different reason. He revved the engine, giving Topper a sideways glare before pulling out of your driveway.

“Yeah, shut up Topper,” You snorted, finding their friendship hilarious.

Rafe couldn’t help but grin. The way you so easily fit into his world, bantering with his friends like you’d been doing it for years, only made him fall harder.

“Oh great,” Topper sighed, throwing his head back against his seat, “There’s two of you now.”

Rafe smirked, casting a glance in the rearview mirror at his friend, “Get used to it.”

The car sped through the dark, storm-damaged streets, he kept his eyes on the road, but his hand found its way to rest on the console between you, his fingers brushing against yours now and then, whether intentional or not.

You couldn't help but sneak a glance at him, your heart doing a little flip each time. You’d known Rafe for a while now. You knew he had your heart the first day you met him, but tonight? The way he rushed to you, the way he wouldn’t take no for an answer, it was like seeing a different side of him. A side you were starting to fall for, hard.

“Where are we going?” you asked breaking the silence, though you weren’t really concerned about the destination. Being with him was enough.

“My place.”

There was always a certainty in his tone, that easy confidence that made you feel secure, like as long as you were with him, everything would be okay.

From the back seat, Topper sighed dramatically, “Man, this is some romantic shit, but I’m starving. Can we hit a drive-thru or something?”

You and Rafe exchanged a glance, both of you stifling a laugh.

“You always thinking about food, Top?” Rafe grumbled, though there was a lightness in his voice now.

“I didn’t get to finish my damn burger because someone decided to bolt out of The Wreck in a panic,” Topper shot back, leaning forward to poke his head between the front seats.

Rafe rolled his eyes, but you could tell he appreciated the distraction. “Fine. We’ll stop somewhere, you’re buying.”

Topper groaned. “As if you don’t have enough money to feed half the island, but sure, man, I’ll buy your girl a meal.”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks at the mention of being Rafe’s girl.

He didn’t deny it.

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nosugarallspice · 8 months

Note

we NEEEDDD more tough jude. imagine jude and reader arguing all day over the silliest things, but they have to go to a bar to meet up with with jude’s friend and they decide to put a stop to it for the time being but reader decides to be pissy and bratty all night. she then picks a fight with j someone. jude has had ENOUGH. he grabs her and physically pulls her out of there and drags her home. reader continues to be bratty until jude shuts her up by fucking the life out of her until she’s begging for him to stop but he doesn’t (check ins with safe word but reader chooses not to say it)

Okay but these requests always hit! Like I dunno what it is but picturing Jude putting you in your place is soooo sexy???

Author’s Note: I feel like this was longer than usual but maybe not? I don’t mind it so I hope you guys don’t either. Also if there’s any typos don’t pay attention, just ignore it lmao.

Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 753

You and Jude had been at each other's throats throughout the day, it was annoying, but he’d aggravate you over the smallest things - you being annoyed with him, of course only made him even more annoyed with you. There was constant bickering between the two of you - and you were fed, but so was he.

“I can’t believe you’re making me go.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you drove to the new restaurant that had just opened up downtown, Vini invited you both out for lunch - without running it by you, Jude of course agreed even though you both were at each other's throat.

“Not like I have a choice? We were invited so it would be rude not to go.” Jude grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he sat in the passenger seat.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and you couldn’t really complain about it.

You finally found parking and made your way inside - You tried your best to be cordial with Jude, even though you felt like strangling him most of the time, you pushed your feelings aside just for the evening.

Jude sat at the table chatting with Vini while you made your way over to the bar, a few drinks wouldn’t hurt, or so you thought it wouldn’t.

One drink led to another, let’s just say you had a bit too much to drink and ended up arguing with a few people near the bar.

Jude ended up pulling you out of the restaurant after he said goodbye to Vini. You protested, trying to get your point across that you didn’t start it, but Jude was fed up.

You laid your head against the window with your eyes closed, the ride home was silent, the only thing that could be heard was the radio, until Jude broke the silence. “So,are you going to say anything?” He asked, as he pulled into the driveway.

“Nope.” You mumbled before getting out of the car and stumbling into the house.

—

You cried out into the pillow as you buried your face in it. The grip Jude had on your hips would definitely be leaving bruises for you to see tomorrow.

His hips slamming against your ass as he fucked you from behind, “this is all you want, hm?” He spoke through gritted teeth. His cock pushing deeper into you with each thrust.

You felt him lean forward, his hand sliding up your back and towards the front of your neck, he gripped gently, pulling you up, your back now pressed against his chest. This new angle causes the tip of his cock to brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, making you squirm against him.

“Fuck, Jude!” You cried, throwing your head back against his shoulder, his hand still wrapped around your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His lips brushed against your ear, a smirk on his face as you melted into him.

“Yes!” You moan, your tiny hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Such a slut, for me.” He chuckled, his free hand sliding in between your thighs, pressing firmly against your aching clit, circling it slowly, he knew it would drive you crazy.

You gasp, your pussy clenching around him, warning him for your next orgasm but that doesn’t stop him of course, he continued.

As much as you squirmed trying to get out of his grip, he wouldn’t let you go. “I know you can give me one more.” He insists, cock buried deep inside you.

“Too much.” You whimpered as he placed a slap to your ass. Your nails dug into his wrist, causing his grip to tighten.

“I think you can handle it.” He smiles, keeping his fingers on your clit.

As much as you hate to admit it, it hurt but it hurt so good, so good that you didn’t want him to stop, instead you wanted him to ruin you.

Finally, Jude pushes you back down on the bed, your chest pressed against the mattress and his chest pressed against your back. Of course this was to teach you a lesson, but he was still needy and wanted to be close to you.

“Too much?” Jude whispers against your shoulder, his movements starting to slow. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.” He kisses your shoulder, his hand caressing your hip.

You shook your head, “n-no, keep going.” You moan, throwing your hips back against him.

“That’s my girl.” Jude grins, looking down to watch as you fuck back into him.

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zepskies · 1 year

Note

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #texting Dean #and teasing Dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #zepskies writes

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multifandomgirl08 · 2 months

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Mommy and Me [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.

A/N: Thank you to the Anon that requested this chapter.

Words: 2.7k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It didn’t take much for Y/N to know that in the last few months since the family had found that she was pregnant again, Nico seemed to be the least excited about there being another baby in the house.

Nico seemed to gravitate towards Max a little more when he was home, and didn’t want to spend much time with her while she was trying to get Nico to play with his little brother.

Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day. Max could stay home with Niki, and her and Nico could go grab lunch and maybe wander around until he got tired or her feet started to hurt too much. Nico needed her attention since everything was going to get crazy again when the new baby came.

“You’ve noticed that?” Max asked.

“Yes,” She replied. “He needs some time with me, and I’ve just been spread so thin with everything.”

Max had agreed with her.

“Okay,” He said. “Niki and I can spend the day together doing manly things, like eating and then taking a nap before I need to change out the lightbulbs in the hallway.”

She let out a laugh before kissing Max in thanks. “I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Saturday morning, Y/N woke up early and fed Niki like she normally would before waking up Nico and asking him to get dressed. She heard him sluggish get out of bed before settling Niki into bed with Max before taking a quick photo of them two of them sleeping.

She had taken her keys and her bag, straightening the dress that she was wearing. “Nico,” She said, looking for him. He didn’t seem that happy to be pulled out of the house.

“Where is Papa?” He asked, kicking his sneaker covered feet against the flooring. “Papa is going to stay home with Niki today so we can spend the day together.” She could see Nico’s eyes light up for a moment. As soon as she saw that, his excitement seemed to disappear.

“We’re not buying baby things are we?” His shoulders were slumped forward at the question.

“No, I figured we could get a late breakfast and go see the boats.” Nico had asked her about seeing the yachts after she had mentioned at dinner that one of her clients designed mega yachts for a living. She had promised him that although they wouldn’t be able to get on one of the big ones like at the Monaco yacht show, they would still get pretty close and take a good look.

“The big boats?” He asked as a follow up.

“Yes, the big boats.” That seemed to reinvigorate Nico’s excitement. He jumped off the couch and walked to the side door so they could get into her car. She let Nico choose between the Aston Martin and the Bentley keys. He pulled the key with the big white B logo on it, so she put the other key back in the bowl before unlocking the navy blue car.

Nico moved to get into the back seat and he insisted on doing up his own car seat. She had started the car and drove the half hour drive to a place that closed at 1 pm after lunch. She occasionally glanced into the back seat using the rearview mirror. Nico seemed to be looking out as they passed by other cars. There was someone driving a yellow Lamborghini, and it was quickly followed by a bright blue Bugatti.

“Mama,” Nico said with his fingers pressed up against the window. “How come Papa doesn’t have a car like that?”

She was stopped at a redlight and saw that Nico had pointed to a green Koenigsegg that someone was getting out of.

“I don’t know,” Between her and Max, they weren’t looking to buy another car, especially one that wouldn’t fit the kids in it. “Maybe Papa has all of the cars that he wants.”

Nico looked a little deep in thought when she glanced back at him in the mirror.

“You have your toy cars, right?” She asked. She knew that Nico had toy versions of a few of the cars that were actually in the garage, like Max’s Aston Martin Valkyrie. Nico had asked Max if he could sit in it and pretend to drive it while Nico was in Max’s lap. Max had never taken Nico to the test track back in the Netherlands, it was always something Max did with his friends when he had time.

Nico gave a small nod back.

“Well, so does Papa. He just gets to drive them when he’s not working.” The light had turned green.

A bit later, she and Nico had made it to the restaurant and had asked for a table outside that looked out towards the Monaco Yacht Club so Nico would look at the boats. Someone had come out to take their order. Nico had gotten orange juice and pancakes, and Y/N had gotten a decaf latte, and eggs benedict.

Nico kept looking out at the yachts while they were waiting for their drinks, and Y/N had told him about a few of the ones that she had seen the inside of. Nico seemed interested as she talked about the large living areas, built in jacuzzis, and luxurious bedrooms. It was like living in a fully staffed house out on the water.

“Can we stay on one?” He asked as the drinks got delivered.

“Papa and I can talk about it after the baby comes.” They hadn’t taken a vacation since after Niki had been born, maybe it would be something to consider since they wouldn’t have to fly anywhere and wouldn’t be in a hotel. Rented yachts also came staffed with a crew and a chef. Definitely something to consider then.

Nico seemed to slump forward in his seat again. Ah yes, the baby.

“Nico, you’re not happy about getting another brother?” She asked.

Nico shook his head no.

“Can you tell me why?”

It took Nico a little while, he was still pouting and started playing with the napkin that was folded into some design, he pulled it off the table and pulled it apart until it was a nothing but a cloth white square. She was being patient waiting until he spoke. He eventually pulled the fork from the table and into his lap, turning it around a few times before placing it back.

“Is it because Papa and I are already busy with you and Niki?” She had asked.

Nico shook his head yes.

“You and Papa…” He started. “We don’t do fun stuff anymore.”

They didn’t do anything fun anymore? Yes, they were home a lot more, Sylvie had taken over driving Nico to primary school in the mornings last month, but Y/N still picked him up at the end of the day before starting dinner.

“We don’t watch movies anymore,” Nico said, crossing his arms. “And you get up too early now.”

Yes, it was true. On Thursday night’s if there was a race that weekend, Nico used to get to stay up a little later to watch a movie with her and Max before he needed to go to bed. Niki had taken that spot since it was normally when he would eat his dinner and Sylvie would leave for the day. And on weekends, when Sylvie wouldn’t be over at the house, Y/N had to get up and feed Niki at 8am so Nico wouldn’t sneak into the master bedroom to sleep in with her and Max for a few more hours.

“Well, we can start to do movie night again after the baby is born.” She couldn’t promise that she and Max would be able to stay awake for a hour and a half movie but they could all sit in bed and watch it together at least.

“And Niki is sleeping through the night more, so on weekends when Papa is home, if you want I can get him to feed Niki instead.” When the new baby was home, Sylvie would be back in the house 6 days instead of the 5 she had been working after Niki had turned 1.

Nico still didn’t seem all that happy. He took a sip from the tall glass and Y/N carefully watched so he wouldn’t spill all over his white shirt.

“Can we watch Papa’s races together again?” She felt a small pang in her chest remembering that she used to sit with Nico and watch the pre-race show on F1 TV until the race would start, and if the race ran late, would let Nico watch Max podium and then he had to go to bed right after.

Those two to three-ish hours used to be just her and Nico sitting and watching Max do what he loved, but with work getting to her before she went on maternity leave, she had left Nico in the living room watching the race so she could focus on Niki a bit since she was preparing to have one of her colleagues cover for her once the new baby was going to be there.

“I’ll do my best to try,” She knew that it wasn’t much of a promise. “Papa is leaving for a race next weekend, you can come drop him off at the airport with me, and on Saturday, if you remind me I’ll put Nikita to bed a little later and we can watch the race together.”

Nico nodded at her before both plates were placed on their table. They ate through their brunch and sat and watched the boats for a little while longer. Nico seemed to be more animated as they sat at the restaurant before he dropped his head to her arm after he cleared most of his plate.

“Time to go home?” She asked him. Nico gave a small nod pushing his plate away that had a few small pieces of his pancakes left.

She paid the bill with her black card and clasped Nico’s hand in hers as they walked back to the car. The drive home was rather quiet unlike when they had driven to the restaurant. Nico seemed a little more settled once they had walked through the front door of the house.

Nico ran through the front door to the left. She had dropped her keys into the bowl, and placed her bag on the console, and then kicked off the low heels that she had been wearing. She followed him into the living room to see Max on the floor with Nikita on his play mat holding up a plush toy.

Max was asking Nico how brunch was, and Nico broke into a ramble about seeing the boats. She had managed to pull a chair up towards the boys, knowing that Max’s eyes followed her, she could silently hear him remind her that she shouldn’t be lifting anything. She moved to sit in the chair and Nico did his best to sit next to her given the size of her belly.

It was a few moments later that Max went to put Niki down for his nap, Nico went into his room and came back out with his box of colored pencils and coloring book while she sat in the living room waiting for Max to come back upstairs.

Max sat next to her, and they both occasionally looked over at Nico to see what pictures he was coloring in. Nico had stayed sitting at the coffee table with his pencils until he had walked over to her and Max and placed a picture into her lap.

“For you, Mama.” Nico said.

Y/N looked down at the picture of two stick figures, one tall one in a dress, and the shorter one in jeans and a white shirt with a big gray boat in the background. It had the words, Mommy and Me written in the top corner in red.

“Thank you Nico, I’ll make sure to put it on my desk.” Nico drew her pictures all the time, and each time she would normally go in and change out the old one for the newest one in the picture frame that was on her desk, and then put the old one in a box that she had in her office.

He reached up for her, and she took him in her arms doing her best to hug him.

It was the following Thursday when you needed to drop Max off at the airport. You had taken Nico and Niki with you. All of you wishing Max luck.

Max had pulled Nico close to him. “Take care of Mama for me, okay?” Max asked Nico. Nico nodded up at him before you felt Nico’s hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze before he let go. He had hugged Nico and Niki first before drawing his attention to you and the baby in your belly.

“I’ll be home as soon as they let me leave.” He placed a kiss on your forehead and rubbed his hand over your bump which got him a small kick back. Max looked down and kissed you on the lips. You let your arms loosely wrap around him, knowing that he had to leave and you couldn’t keep him here even if you wanted to.

You all stood there watching as Max got onto the plane, and waved at him before the plane was ready to take off.

It was on Saturday afternoon that Nico had reminded you about putting Niki to bed a little later that night. Before you made dinner, Nico had brought your laptop into the kitchen so you could watch qualifying together and try to feed Niki.

You had managed to feed Niki most of his dinner before Q3 started, and sat with Nico through the rest of qualifying before starting dinner.

Sunday morning came around, Nico was still in his room while you fed Niki, and then around 2pm you were in the living room after having placed Niki into his crib for a nap. He would sleep for a while, and then around 5:30 you would need to feed him dinner. It would be a little later than normal, but Nico needed the time with you and you were trying your best to give it to him.

The TV was turned on with the F1 TV pre-race show on, Nico had his team Red Bull shirt on as you both laid on the couch getting ready for the race to start. Eventually Alex Jacques’s voice was making its way through the TV speakers signaling that the race was about to start.

The rest of the race you spent with Nico on the couch watching as your husband drove around the track with your son’s head pressed against your lap. Nico had stayed on the couch watching as Max got sprayed with champagne. You had ordered dinner for you and Nico, feeding Niki in the meantime.

After dinner just before Nico needed to go to bed, you got a call from Max. You had talked for a few minutes before giving Nico the phone so he could tell Max his favorite parts of the race. You could tell that although Max was tired from the race, he was still going to listen to his son and indulge him in his chosen topic of conversation.

It was a few moments later that Max promised that he would be home before Nico woke up in the morning. They both said goodnight before Nico gave you your phone back so he could go brush his teeth and go to bed.

You had talked to Max for a few minutes, hearing Lando, and Ollie Bearman in the background. “Don’t wait for me, I know you have to get up early tomorrow.” Max said before you both had hung up. You would do your best to stay up, but knew that if Max wasn’t home by 1am, you would need to get some sleep.

You stood outside of Nico’s room seeing him climb under his sheets. You had walked into the room and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Thank you for spending the day with me, Mama.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Neeks.” You said, and did your best to kiss him on the forehead before moving out of the room.

You looked at him for a moment. Nico no longer needed you reading him a bedtime story before his eyes were closed to the world until the morning. He settled into his sheets before you turned the lights off, closing his door most of the way.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast , @green-thots , @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp , @ellelabelle

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #max verstappen fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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anonymousicecream · 2 months

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Rivals at School? More like on Bed Pt II (Karina x M Reader)

It's been a week after your encounter with Karina, and safe to say, you have been disappointed. Her actions on you has contrasted everything she did on that very day. That day, you thought that you can get her back again after you lost her but after a week, you realized that it'll be harder to get her back again.

"Yo! Are you coming to Giselle's party?" Your best friend, Niki, asked you while you were staring off into the distance, not looking at anything, except for a certain person named Yu Jimin. "Huh?" You asked her, blanking out. "Giselle's party. Are you going?" Niki asked you. "Sure I guess. I need to release some steam." You told him, and he nodded, signaling that he'll go with you.

(Timeskip to that night)

Since it's a party, you preferred going by car instead of bike, so someone random can drive you if you got too drunk. This time round, you wanted to drive your Pagani Zonda, but it was used by your father. So you're forced to take your bike again and ride it to Giselle's mansion, which arguably has the same size as yours, but your estate has different mansions and has a larger land, so yours is definitely bigger.

You parked your car at the side, before walking into the party, spotting Giselle as she also spotted you. "Y/N!!!!" Giselle screamed as she saw you, rushing towards you. You opened your arms out and she hugged you as you hug her back. "How has it been bro? I haven't seen you in ages." She asks you. "Great man. Life has been a bit tough, but the positives outweigh the negatives. What about you?" You replied. "Great. I'm starting my college applications, and life is getting more fun day by day. Anyway, are you still fucking random girls?" She asks you, and the two of you laughed. "Not really. I had someone, but she left." You told her, which saw her mood and face change. "Follow me." She instructed you, and you followed her.

It didn't take long before she guided you to one of the sofas, and on the sofa, you spotted Jimin, the very person you want to avoid. "So, Jimin, this is y/n, and y/n, this is Jimin." Giselle introduced the two of you and you two played it off as if you guys don't know each other.

"So, y/n here was just telling me about how his last fling left him. Please, proceed." Giselle told you to. You felt hesitant because you and Jimin know who your last fling is, and it'll be awkward to explain it in front of Jimin. But, since Aeri wanted you to explain, you decide to do it anyway, "for an old friend".

"So, we knew each other for a year and a half by that point. It happened during an outing to Jeju. As usual, my family and I visit Jeju during the summer. She happened to go there as well. We had a chat and one thing led to another, we decided to go partying a few nights later and we fucked! That's about it." You explained briefly to the two girls on how you met her.

"So, you said it was your last fling. How did you two stopped?" Jimin asked you, and you glared at her, because she knew EXACTLY how it ended. "Well, a few months go by, and we've been constantly hooking up, almost daily. It got to the point where deep down, both of our families knew there was something, but they weren't sure what that was. One day, after I finished school, I met up with her, and she just immediately told me, "you're so fucking stupid. Let's just stop. Fuck you," and left immediately. Ever since then, we haven't really interacted much but even when we interact, it's been insults made towards me." You told the two of her, and the two of them stared at you, trying to imagine the pain you went through.

You felt stressed but at the same time relieved, so you grab a bottle of vodka on the table and started drinking it FROM the bottle. You started chugging it while Aeri left you and Jimin to be alone. "Y/n, stop. Please." Jimin told you, but you ignored her words. "Y/N!" She screamed at you, before forcefully grabbing the bottle from you.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIDING BACK HOME, SO WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DRINKING???" Jimin screamed at you and you composed yourself before shouting back at her. "WHY DO YOU CARE? YOU WERE THERE WHEN I DIDN'T NEED YOU BUT WHEN I WAS DOWN AT MY WORST, YOU LEFT MY FUCKING ASS. SO TELL ME, WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOUR WORDS WHEN ALL YOU DID WAS BULLY AND INSULT ME!" This left Jimin stunned and speechless, as well as the others who heard your fight, because they, especially Jimin, never saw you this mad.

You felt the need to release some steam so you decided to leave the party, with Jimin following close behind you. You got on your bike, wearing your helmet before turning the bike on and you start riding off towards your home. You noticed Jimin following you intensely on your back, chasing you off in her Ferrari SF90.

Not long after, you reached the bottom of the hill where Aeri's mansion was situated at, and you started increasing your speed, riding at a faster speed. You tried to focus on the road but the effects of the Vodka were starting to kick in. The last thing you saw was an intersection, as well as your bike's speedometer which says 135 km/h, before you started braking due to your speed. As you crossed the intersection, you felt a nudge on your right leg, before you flipped over, crashing down onto your left part of the body.

THUD

The last thing you remember was the gasps of people around you, before you blacked out.

#kpop #kpop gg #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #male reader #karina aespa #aespa karina #karina #yu jimin #jimin

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lam-ila · 3 months

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Daddy’s Boy || Lewis Hamilton

Summary: After getting into an argument with one of his classmates, your seven year old son, Mason, talks it out with his dad.

Word Count: 1,170

Warnings: none (please let me know if you find any that i should add)

F1 Masterlist

a/n: dad!lewis dad!lewis dad!lewis

lewis’s p3 in spain inspired me to start this and his p1 in silverstone inspired me to finish this

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You were at home while your husband, Lewis, was at work for a few meetings, starting to prepare a snack for your seven year old son, Mason, as you waited for him to come home from school. On a normal day, your son's school bus would arrive at its stop near your family of three’s house around 4:10 pm, however, you shortly realized that it was not a normal day as you received a phone call from his school.

"Hello?" You asked after gingerly picking up your phone.

"Hi is this Mason's parent?" The voice on the other end of the call asked. "I'm his principal."

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm going to need you to come into the school to pick up Mason from my office at the end of the school day." They continued.

"Is he okay?" You questioned, your heartrate picking up as you thought of everything that could've happened to your son.

“He got into a verbal altercation with one of his classmates.” The principal explained. “I’ll be having a conversation with you and him as well as a separate conversation with his classmate and one of their parents.”

“Understood. I’ll be there at pick up time.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Looking forward to talking to you and Mason then.” The phone call ended without another word being said.

Your phone screen returned to its lock screen, showing the picture of you, Lewis, Mason, and Roscoe as your background and the time above it. Squinting your eyes at the time, you realized that you needed to leave at that moment in order to arrive at Mason’s school on time. You looked around for your wallet and car keys, making a b-line for your car and pausing to put on your shoes, open and close the door, and to lock the door.

—————

“Do you want to tell daddy about what happened at school, Mason?” You inquired while setting his glass of water down next his plate on the dining table. Although you asked your son if he wanted to inform his father of what occurred earlier in the day, your question was less of a question and more of a command.

“Do I have to?” He asked, looking up at you from his seat while you took yours at the table, seating yourself next to Lewis. You gave Mason a pointed look, silently saying ‘yes, yes you do.’

“Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is someone-” You cut Lewis off by briefly placing your hand on top of his which was resting on his leg under the table, allowing your son to explain what happened in his own words.

“I got into a fight.” He quietly admitted, his dinner completely untouched in front of him.

“A physical fight?” Lewis’ brow furrowed with concern.

“No, Daddy,” he laughed at his father’s assumption. “A fight with words. It’s not nice to fight someone physically.” He explained as if that was the most obvious thing ever.

Lewis breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was for his little boy to get into a physical fight.

“We were talking about what our parents do for jobs during recess and I said how my daddy races in Formula One.” Mason started his explanation that you already heard in the drive home from his school. “And then Sean asked me what your name is because he watches Formula One with his family, so I told him that your name is Lewis Hamilton. And then he laughed at me! He said that it’s not possible for my daddy to be Lewis Hamilton because he’s never seen me on tv with you.”

You glanced over at Lewis, watching him as his eyes were wide and his attention fully focused on Mason, taking in everything that he was rapidly spewing out.

“But I told him that I don’t go on tv with you because you’re on tv to race and to talk about racing. And he said that that’s not true and that I don’t go on tv because you don’t love me and you want to pretend like I’m not your son.”

Mason paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Then I raised my voice, Daddy.” He confessed, sinking down into his seat in shame. “I raised my voice even though you taught me to never raise my voice, even if I get angry while I’m karting. I yelled at him and told him that you do love me and it doesn’t matter if I don’t go on tv with you because I know that you love me and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Mason…” Lewis trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“And then my teacher stopped us from talking more and told us that we both had to go see the principal.” Mason’s face crumpled as he neared the end of his re-telling of his argument with his classmate, all of his emotions presenting themselves as the heavy tears falling from his eyes. “Sean was being so mean!”

Lewis looked over at you and you gave him a short nod, allowing him to respond to Mason. Your husband took a deep breath as he looked back at your son.

“It’s okay to feel upset and angry. These emotions are completely normal emotions to feel.” Lewis started. “You’re right, Sean was being mean, but that doesn’t allow you to yell back at him.”

“Because that was mean?” Mason asked, straightening up in his seat a little as he began to understand what his father was telling him.

“Yes, that was mean.”

“Does that make me a mean person?” Mason’s brow furrowed as tears began to form in his eyes again.

“No, no, not at all Mason.” Lewis stretched his arms across the dining table towards your son, careful to avoid touching anyone’s dinner. Mason scooted his chair forward and reached out to have his father hold his small hands in his larger ones. You smiled at the Lewis’ and Mason’s actions, your heart warming at the sight of their close father-son relationship. “Doing something mean doesn’t make you a mean person, but that doesn’t make it okay to do something mean again. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, that makes sense, Daddy.” He took his hands out of Lewis’, wiping the remaining tears from his face and alternating his gaze from Lewis to you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby.” You hummed.

“I should say sorry to Sean tomorrow at school.”

“That’s a great idea.” You smiled, proud of Mason for realizing that he needed to apologize to his classmate. He also smiled, resulting in Lewis following his actions and smiling too.

“I’m proud of you, Mason.” Lewis boasted, beaming with pride.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Mason replied. He fixed his view down to the table the three of you were seated at, looking hungrily at the food on your plates. “Can we eat dinner now?”

You and Lewis broke out into soft laughter, Lewis nodding and saying “Yes, yes we can.”

——————————

F1 taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls @c-losur3

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hockeybabe · 5 months

Text

Don’t Chirp My Girl | M. Knies

Pairings: Matthew Knies x gf!reader

Summary: Pastrnak say some not so great things about you to your boyfriend and your boyfriend isn’t having it.

Warnings: pastrnaks a dick, protective Knies, swearing, pure fluff, making out in a car, illusion to smut

Word count: 879

Note: saw this and was like yes sir 🫡

Out of all the people for Pastnak to go after he had chosen your boyfriend. The two of you had been dating for almost two years and you decided, as this being Matthew’s first full season, you’d go to as many games as you could.

When they got into the playoffs, you made it your mission to be at every game. You were born and raised a hockey fan, knowing every single thing from wrongs to rights. And for the past two games, the leafs weren’t doing what they normally did. Auston wasn’t playing tonight, which meant Matthew would have more ice time.

That made you truly happy knowing you’d see your boyfriend more on the ice. As of now, it was the third period, and the game was still tied at 1-1. Things in the playoffs were another level. They were more intense, and the players weren’t having it with each other.

From the glass seat you were at, you could see Pastrnak staring right back at you with a creepy look on his face. The whistle blew and before you knew it; they were playing. Your thumbs twiddled with each other as you watched the two teams battle it out.

Swayman was able to stop the puck before it reached the net, allowing the refs to stop play and just like always, Boston and Toronto were going at it. However, this time it was your boyfriend and Pastrnak. Pastrnak was pointing over at you while saying something, making Matthew lose his shit.

You could barely make out the words Matthew was saying, but you could see him push Pastrnak before saying, “that’s what I thought.” You shivered slightly at the look on your boyfriend’s face as the game continued. He’d never looked so angry at someone’s words.

It was common for chirping to go around in hockey, it what caused fights. But it was also wasn’t uncommon for rookies to have their loved one's being called out.

As the game made its way to over time you sat at the edge of your seat watching as John skated fast to Swayman, attempting a shot, but it slid past him and two players, leaving the puck all by itself and an open net. You watched Matthew skate up to it, flicking the puck into the net, and the sirens blazed.

You shot out of your seat banging on the glass and give high-fives to the little leaf fans around you as the Boston ones flipped you off and said random shit, making a smug smirk grace your lips. You had followed Steph through the crowd as you both made your way to the team's tunnel.

You watched as Matthew came out of the change room first with a smug look. He was happy, but in his eyes he was clearly annoyed. You sigh knowing that it’d be a long drive home. He had greeted all the partners before parting ways with his team. “He’ll get over it.” Max said to you before you followed him to the parking lot.

“So,” you started. “You gonna tell me what happened?” You asked, getting into the passenger seat. Matthew only bothered to give you a grunt as he continued to drive to the apartment. “Jesus Matthew! Are you really not gonna say shit?” You cried out as his silence drove you crazy.

Matthew’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as his knuckles turned white. You couldn’t lie, the sight turned you on, but he was mad and with mad came silence and built up emotion. “Matt, pull over.” You told him, sternly. Matthew looked over at you before pulling off to the side of the road.

You unbuckled your seat belt, climbed over the console and sat yourself in Matt’s lap, your back resting on the wheel. You took Matt’s face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “What’d he say?” You ask again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He grumbled. “So what, you’ll bubble this anger up till Thursday and then what? Take it out on the guy! It’s fucking hockey, baby! Shit happens.” You cried out, hoping to get your words through his thick skull.

“He said you’d leave me for someone better in the end.” He mumbled, making your heart stop. “I pushed him and told his to not start and he thought wrong for trying me.” He said, snuggling his head into your neck and placing a kiss on your collarbone. “Well, who the hell would be someone better?” You asked, making his head perk up.

“Cause I’ve got the best guy I’ve met in a while. And he makes my fucking world.” You said with a big smile, making him smirk. “Oh, really.” He whispered, pulling you closer. You were pulled up into his bulge, making you whimper, shutting your eyes slowly. “Yeah, he’s got this goofy, uh, smile and he, um, he wears the number 23.” You breath out as he placed wet kisses on your neck.

“The number he’s going to ruin me in.” You moan. Pressing your lips onto his. His hands ran up your back, pulling you closer than possible. Your lips meshed as his tongue explored your mouth. “Get in the back.” He said in a husky voice.

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ashwhowrites · 3 months

Note

Hi! Can I request a Mungrove x Reader fic with 1 from angst and 16 from fluff from the prompt list?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

"What’s the point of trying if it just proves that I’ll never be good enough?”

“I never thought I could miss someone this much,"

Enough

Y/N and Billy graduated, which left Eddie behind to repeat another year. The three have been dating for a while and got used to being together all the time. But now the summer is over and Eddie had to return to Hawkins High.

Eddie was jealous and upset that Y/N and Billy got to stay together while he was left out. Y/N and Billy missed him too, upset that they had to wait to see Eddie until the school day was over.

Billy was worried about Eddie being left to the wolves but believed he'd stand his ground. Y/N was more worried about the girls, but Eddie reassured her there was no one else.

She wished she could believe that. Eddie had been in school for three months, and all Y/N heard about was Chrissy Cunningham.

It made Y/N's blood boil. Chrissy had years to get to know Eddie, but she waited until Y/N was no longer around. That was snake shit and broke every girl code rule ever made.

Billy was always collected in himself when it came to jealousy. And he never saw Chrissy as a threat, until Y/N got all the ideas in his head.

It was routine for Y/N to drop Eddie off in the morning and for Billy to pick him up. Y/N clenched her teeth every morning because Chrissy would be waiting at the front doors.

Billy began to notice that Eddie would talk all the way with Chrissy to his car. It was like she was attached to his hip. But Billy bit his tongue, something he learned from their girlfriend.

Billy's knuckles were white as he listened to Eddie talk about Chrissy the whole drive. Eddie didn't notice, so lost in talking as the short drive home came to a stop.

~~~

It didn't end with Chrissy, soon he was making friends with all the popular kids. Billy and Y/N wanted to be supportive, but they couldn't help but notice he was changing.

Eddie never cared about being popular, that's what made him unique. Y/N didn't care if he was popular or not when they first got together. Billy was popular but he learned not to care about it once he fell in love. Once Billy was off the market, his time was focused on his relationship. The three got to be in their own little bubble.

But Eddie popped it so he could escape.

"Any word?" Y/N sighed as Billy walked to the seat across from her.

The two waited at the restaurant for Eddie but lost hope.

"I called his house, Wayne said he was out with friends. And he's not with us, so I'm guessing he's with..." Billy trailed off as Y/N's frown deepened.

"Chrissy and his new friends" Y/N snapped

"He'll come around. Let's order and have fun. It's date night, and I am the best at date nights." Billy said with a wink

Y/N laughed and agreed. She flipped open the menu and the two began talking like nothing was wrong.

That was the first time Eddie ditched and sadly wasn't the last.

"If we wait any longer we'll miss the movie" Billy groaned. He leaned against the wall in the theater as they stared at the doors.

"I know, babe. But maybe just another minute?" She asked. Her hand slipped into his as she squeezed it.

"Like I could ever say no to you" Billy teased, leaning down to press a short kiss against her lips.

"If he's not here in a minute, we'll go," Y/N said as she pulled away. She smiled, but they both knew it was fake. Her eyes went back to the door, waiting and waiting.

But he never showed.

Y/N and Billy lost count of how many times Eddie didn't show up for dates. At this point, they expected it. Their relationship of three was really just a relationship between the two.

Y/N was hurt beyond anything. She felt replaced as the special girl in Eddie's life. She felt like she couldn't compare to the pretty cheerleaders Eddie was spending all his time with.

Billy was pissed. He wasn't too upset about being ditched like she was, he had his girl and he'd make the best of it. But what made him mad was watching Eddie hurt Y/N. Billy tried his best to cheer her up and distract her. But how could he make her feel better when he wasn't the one hurting her. Billy promised to kick anyone's ass that made her cry, he just never thought Eddie would become his target.

~~~

Y/N sat silent as she drove Eddie to school. He was going on and on about his new friends and all the things they did together. She could feel her heart shattering more and more. It was like he had no idea how much he'd been missing in their relationship.

Before Eddie could speak a word when Billy picked him up, Billy spoke first.

"Tonight you are staying home. Y/N and I are coming over because we need to talk."

Eddie felt a nervous chuckle leave his lips

"What's going on?" Eddie asked

"We'll talk when I grab her," Billy said

The car ride was silent as they pulled up to Y/N's house. She hugged herself in Billy's sweater as she walked to the car.

She slid into the backseat, a small hello from her lips.

Eddie got more nervous as no one spoke, just the radio playing.

They pulled up to the trailer and all walked inside. Billy had his arm wrapped around Y/N as he led her to the couch. Eddie stood in front of them as he looked confused.

"Okay, what's going on? You guys are freaking me out" Eddie sighed, his eyes looking between his partners.

Y/N took a deep breath, clenching Billy's hand.

"We need to talk about the way you've been treating this relationship." Her wet eyes looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked

"You've been ditching us for weeks because of your new friends. It's okay to branch out, but you need to put time into this relationship too." Billy said, trying to stay calm for Y/N's sake.

"Are you guys seriously jealous of this?" Eddie scoffed

"Not jealous, but Eddie you haven't spent any time with us unless it's driving you!" Billy explained

"I can admit that I'm jealous of Chrissy but more hurt that I haven't had any time with you," Y/N said, blinking away tears.

"Why would you be jealous of her?" Eddie asked, his voice was snippy and short. She could tell he was starting to get defensive.

"You're replacing me with her!" Y/N argued, standing up. Annoyed that he clearly didn't see the big picture. Billy quickly stood.

"Oh don't be dramatic. I am not" Eddie denied

"Don't call her dramatic!" Billy stepped in, starting to get angry.

"She is! I hang out with Chrissy and all of a sudden I'm a bad guy? It's jealousy, plain and simple. I'm not replacing her." Eddie fought, and the two boys were head to head. "Do you have a problem with it? Or is it her?" Eddie's head nodded towards her but his eyes stayed on Billy's glare.

"What is wrong with you? Spend a few weeks with those assholes and think you can treat our girlfriend like shit? If she feels replaced, then show her she isn't being replaced." Billy growled, his finger shoving into Eddie's chest, hard.

Eddie scoffed, "Out of everyone I thought you would understand. I'm popular, Billy! I don't have to have a target on my back or get shoved in lockers now that you two are gone. I'm standing my ground like you said!"

"Understand? I would never understand hurting Y/N the way you are. And I would never make her feel like anyone could replace her. You can stand your ground without treating us like shit, Munson." Billy said, shoving Eddie across the room.

"Okay, now. Let's just relax!" Y/N said quickly

Eddie panted hard as he charged at Billy, shoving him right back

"If you two wanna team up so damn bad, then why don't we just cut me right out." Eddie puffed

"Eddie, that's not what we are saying or what we want," Y/N said, standing in front of Billy. Her movement caused Eddie's eyes to drop down to her. His glare softened as he took in her sad face.

But he felt targeted by his own partners. He felt like he wasn't in the wrong and teaming up on him was unfair.

"We just want you back." She said softly, she reached to touch his face but he stepped back.

Y/N gulped at his reaction, nerves in her stomach.

"I think I need to think about some things," Eddie said, looking at her.

Billy sighed behind her, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Think about fucking what? Either you want us or you don't!" Billy's voice rose as he got angrier.

Y/N turned around and grabbed his hand. Billy looked down at her.

"Let's just go" she whispered, "we did all we could."

Billy could see in her eyes she had given up. She felt replaced and now she felt useless.

"Okay, we'll go," Billy said, giving her a small smile. He squeezed her hand and led them to the front door. Right as he opened it, Chrissy went to knock.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?" She asked, her eyes looking from Eddie, who was running his hands over his face, to Y/N, who looked like she was going to burst into tears, and Billy, who looked as pissed as ever.

"Nah, my girl and I were just leaving," Billy said harshly as he walked past her.

Eddie bit his tongue, trying not to lash out at Billy's petty comment.

~~~

Y/N respected that Eddie needed time, so she gave him it. Billy wanted nothing more than to fight until it worked out, but he knew Y/N wouldn't like that.

It killed her to not be with him, but she was glad she had Billy during it. Someone to hold her and show her love. Billy missed him too. After the fight, he was more hurt than anything. He felt like they weren't good enough to choose. That Eddie's friends were more important.

Y/N struggled with that too. She already felt replaced by Chrissy and now she felt not good enough to fight for. She and Billy were really to forgive and forget, and Eddie still backed away.

Why weren't they good enough?

Eddie did what he said he would, he was thinking. But he didn't even know what he was supposed to be thinking about. He felt like he was up against a wall and needed to hit pause. His brain couldn't think straight and he didn't know what words he was supposed to say.

And with three days all alone to think, he had nothing. All he did was wonder what they were doing. Are they sad he was gone? Did they not care and go back to normal?

Then he would see Y/N's soft eyes begging him to do the right thing. And he can feel all the guilt eating him alive that he had no idea how to make her feel better. He didn't like Chrissy, and he never would. Y/N would always be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and it would stay that way.

He didn't like that he got so mad with Billy. He didn't want to be in a relationship where it resulted in a violent fight. But Eddie felt like she was just Billy's girlfriend at that moment. He was protecting her...but from Eddie and that hurt. It was like she wasn't even his.

But he did that. He was so blinded by all the popularity and going out that he forgot about them.

Y/N walked into Billy's small house, sighing as she finished another work shift. It was day four without Eddie and it was taking a toll on her. She looked at the phone but knew it wouldn't ring.

She slipped off her shoes and began walking into the house. She walked to his bedroom, the door open as he sat at the edge of the bed.

"Billy?" She asked

He turned to look at her and her heart broke. She was quick to run over to him as his blue eyes were red and puffy. His cheeks were stained in tears that kept falling.

"Oh baby" she cooed, standing in between his legs as she wrapped her arms around his head. He took shelter in her stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She held him as he cried it out, her own tears starting to fall.

"It's okay to cry" she whispered

"What’s the point of trying if it just proves that I’ll never be good enough?” Billy cried out

Y/N bit her lip as she kept back a loud cry. Sniffling her emotions back she became the shoulder he needed.

She dropped to her knees, now holding his face as she looked into his eyes. She placed a soft gentle kiss on his nose.

"You are good enough, you're good enough for me." She whispered, using her thumb to wipe away his tears. "We're good enough for each other."

It was something they both needed to hear. Something they needed to begin to heal their own hearts.

"Let's go get some ice cream or something." She said, smiling as Billy nodded.

"If they don't have cookie dough I'm going to be pissed," Billy warned, but Y/N laughed. She took his hand and they both headed out to his car.

They arrived at the ice cream shop, hand in hand as they walked up to the counter.

Thankfully, cookie dough was available so Y/N didn't have to stop a fight from breaking out.

The couple sat in a back booth, she was tucked under his arm as she fed him spoonfuls of the ice cream.

Eddie walked into the small ice cream shop. Chrissy demanded he leave the house and dragged him here.

He looked at the flavors and could feel even more sadness in his heart as he saw the flavors his partners loved.

He settled for chocolate and slowly picked at the ice cream with his spoon as Chrissy led them to a table.

He knew Y/N didn't like the relationship with Chrissy, but Chrissy was all he had right now. And she was a girl and she knew how to give advice. She said she'd help him figure all of this out.

Y/N and Billy finished their ice cream. Both are feeling a bit better, just going out and being together. It wasn't the same without Eddie, but maybe that was what they had to get used to.

"Wanna go back to the house? I wanna sleep." Y/N yawned, Billy laughed as he ruffled her hair.

"Princess needs her nap," he threw away their cups and grabbed her hand. Helping her out of the booth as his hand slid into her back pocket.

They walked down the small shop, freezing as they spotted Eddie straight ahead...with Chrissy.

Y/N grew nervous, they needed to walk past them to get to the door.

"It'll be okay," Billy said

They started walking again, and right as they went to pass Eddie looked up.

All three froze as they stared at each other.

"Um hi," Eddie said, barely above a whisper

"Hi," Y/N greeted politely, she turned to Chrissy, "and hi to you" with a smile

"This isn't a date!" Eddie rushed out, standing up as he scrambled out of his chair. The chair scraped against the floor.

Y/N and Billy looked at each other, very unconvinced.

"Well you said you needed time, looks like you are spending it well," Billy snapped, with a smile on his face.

"I'm gonna let you guys talk," Chrissy said as she got up from her chair and left the shop.

"Can we talk?" Eddie asked, nodding to the open table

They sat down across from him

"It really isn't a date. I asked for time to think and I didn't even know what for. I just felt like I was running out of time to fix my mistake so I needed to hit pause and figure it out." Eddie explained

"I can understand that, it was a lot," Y/N said as she reached for his hand. This time he laced his hand with hers. The warm feeling of comfort flooded through his body. "But we are all in this relationship together. You could have told us you just needed a second to breathe. We would have stayed and talked it out."

"I know! I just panicked and made everything so much worse." Eddie sighed

"Then why wait that long? It's been four days, Eddie and neither of us heard anything from you. How do you think that makes us feel?" Billy asked

"Like ass? I'm sorry, incredibly sorry to both of you. I shouldn't have put you guys on the back burner just because I was getting attention elsewhere." Eddie started, his eyes moving to Y/N as he kept a grip on her hand. "And I feel like a dick for making you think Chrissy could replace you. Baby girl, no one would ever replace you. I love you so much. I'm sorry for not taking you in my arms that night and proving you have nothing to worry about."

Y/N smiled, the words were exactly what she needed to hear. "I accept your apology"

Eddie smiled and moved to Billy.

"I'm sorry I got so heated and up in your face. It just felt like Y/N was only yours. I know you were protecting her, just like I would have. But it felt like I was losing her to you. And I don't want to lose either of you. I love you and I'm sorry for hurting both of you."

Billy nodded as he talked. He understood what Eddie meant and he knew he could have reacted the same.

"I get it. It killed me to have to protect her from you. I love you and I don't want you to be the bad guy." Billy said softly, "I'm sorry for getting in your face and shoving you."

The boys smiled at each other and all was forgiven between them

"Let's go to my place? Maybe talk some more there?" Billy asked

They nodded and stood up.

A few hours passed and they talked everything out. They cried and laughed. But everything felt healed and Eddie was back where he belonged.

Y/N was smashed in the middle of both boys as they cuddled on the couch. Her head was on Billy's shoulder and her legs on Eddie's. Eddie's soft hands rubbed the skin as the movie played in the background.

"I missed this" Y/N said as she closed her eyes. Soaking in the feeling of being together again.

"Me too" Billy said

“I never thought I could miss someone this much," Eddie said as he looked at them.

Y/N looked over at him and sat up. She softly kissed his face.

"You don't have to miss us anymore"

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stevieschrodinger · 17 days

Text

Part One TwentyThree

This Chapter is NSFW

Steve blinks awake; something woke him, some movement. Eddie. Eddie’s half flopped across Steve’s back where Steve’s laid on his stomach. He’s kissing his way across Steve’s shoulders, “twen-ty two,” he whispers haltingly to himself, then another soft kiss, “twe-n-ty three.”

Steve stretches, his shoulders still aching from finishing the pool yesterday. Eddie had helped a little, mostly holding the hose and washing down the sides. Even with Jon as an extra pair of hands it had still taken hours. Steve shifts, dislodging Eddie a little, “what you doing baby?”

“Winning.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “how do you mean?”

“Eddidie try more kisses,” he kisses Steve again, “twen-ty four.”

Steve rolls over, “I didn’t realize giving kisses was a competition.”

Eddie darts forward, kissing Steve on the cheek this time, but Steve manages to grab him and get him back, making Eddie giggle, “Eddidie twen-ty five. Stee One.”

“Oh you come here you cheater, I’m gonna’ win.”

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone. Keith is a prick, and he’s always going to be a prick, who even works at nine in the morning on New Years day? Steve is certain that the store actually closes for New Years day and Keith has invented that shift just to torture Steve.

And he’s on the close on New Years eve which just...sucks. He sighs again. At least that one is with Robin. It’s like he wants to punish both of them.

“Okay Stee love?”

“I’m okay, but I’ve got to go back to work in a couple of days.”

Eddie frowns, “Eddidie work?”

“I...yeah. Maybe. When you’re ready yeah?”

Eddie looks a little sad, but he agrees, “Stee work time calendar?” Eddie goes off and gets a pen before Steve answers, and then waits, watching as Steve writes the shift times he has so far in the boxes on Eddie’s calendar.

Eddie squints at it, “called am p-m?” He says A M like the word, ‘am,’ and Steve knows he really needs to get onto those books Eddie got for Christmas.

“A.M is in the morning, and P.M is the afternoon. The night time.”

“Nine morning, nine night time?” Eddie asks, pointing.

“You got it baby…what do you want to do today?”

Eddie perks up immediately, “drive car?”

“I...yeah. You know what, fuck it, what’s Hopper going to do, arrest us?”

“Fuck it!” Eddie crows back, a massive grin on his face.

“Huh...I don’t know if I should tell you off or not. It feels like I should but that also feels dumb.”

“Feels dumb. Called arrest?”

“Oh it’s…so if Hopper finds someone who does something bad, he locks them away to keep everyone else safe?”

“Someone who...hurts people?” Eddie volunteers cautiously while they get their shoes on.

“Yeah. Yeah like that. It keeps everyone else safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, get your jacket.”

The ruins of Starcourt are pretty comprehensively taped and fenced off...but half the lot isn’t. Eddie eyes the ruin speculatively, “Eddidie in before?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s where you were when I found you.”

Eddie frowns, leaning over to touch Steve’s face delicately, around his eyes, the bridge of his nose,“Stee hurt.”

“I was, but that was ages ago now. I’m fine.”

Eddie accepts that, so Steve sits and explains to him what all the parts of the car do, how to put it in drive, and back into park, and then lets Eddie do it from the passenger seat. Then puts the seat all the way back, letting Eddie lean over to watch his feet, he shows him how to go and how to stop. He doesn’t bother with stuff like indicators yet, not wanting to over complicate things.

Eddie seems alright with all of it, and Steve figures he does trust Eddie; Eddie does pick shit up really really fast.

They swap seats, “okay, so, what do we do first?” Eddie reaches for the key where it hangs in the ignition, “ah ah,” Steve chides. “What’s first?”

Eddie thinks for a second before sheepishly clicking his belt on; Steve does the same, “now?”

“Sure baby, you can go now.”

Eddie starts the car, grinning big as it starts up. Steve watches as Eddie does the brake and carefully puts it in drive, “good?”

“Yeah, go on then, carefully though. Slow.”

“Carefully, slow.”

And Eddie does, the car inches forward, then picks up a little speed. Eddie’s leaning all the way forward in his seat, chest practically pressed against the wheel, both hands studiously at ten and two. They're probably doing all of a brisk walking speed, maybe a jog, but Eddie’s got a massive happy grin on his face. “Okay, turn then,” Eddie does, making random loops across the lot and then back again. “Okay, stop.” Eddie does, carefully shifting his feet. It jolts a little when they come to a full stop, Eddie pressing too sharply.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, put her in park.” Eddie does, “okay, good, go on then, go again.”

Eddie does, and they do go a little faster, Eddie slowly gaining confidence.

They stop a few times, Steve explaining about the mirrors and then sets Eddie the challenge of parking the car up between the white lines in the empty spaces.

They go until Eddie’s stomach rumbles audibly, Steve completely having lost track of time, “okay, time to go home.”

Eddie nods agreeably, “home.”

They’re laid on the couch together, Eddie’s holding open one of the kids books he got for Christmas, sounding out the letters and making out the words. He never ceases to amaze Steve with just how fast he picks this stuff up.

Steve helps occasionally, but Eddie seems to be able to, mostly, intuit how the words should sound by working through the letters. He keeps digging Steve with his elbow though, when he shifts to itch his stomach, keeps wriggling around, and it only seems to be getting worse.

“What are you scratching at?” Eddie puts the book down, pulling his shirt up so they can both see; part of Eddie’s stomach looks like it’s peeling, like bad sunburn. It only seems to have been made worse by Eddie’s itching, the skin pink and lined.

Steve hums, “lets go put some cream on that.”

Investigation only revels more patches of dry flaking skin, randomly all over Eddie’s body. Steve was there when Eddie got dressed this morning, so he’s one hundred percent certain that these weren’t here then. The more he looks the more he finds, they’re up Eddie’s back, and under Eddie’s bobble hat looks like the worse case of dandruff Steve’s ever seen.

“I hope you’re not allergic to something.”

“Called allergic?”

“It’s- I. I don’t even know how to explain this,” Steve sighs, “sometimes people...something doesn’t agree with them?” Eddie tilts his head, scratching absently at his thigh, Steve gently pulls his hand away, “don’t itch it. Okay...for some people, just very few, laundry powder makes their skin itchy. For no reason, it just...happens. Or some food. Maybe just one person can’t eat nuts, it’ll make them hurt.”

Eddie frowns, but nods, using his free hand to scratch at his back, so Steve grabs that hand, too.

“We should call Joyce, she might know what to do with the itching.” The cream doesn’t seem to be helping, it’s just making Eddie itchy and greasy at the same time.

“Call Joyce yes.”

“Hello?”

“Oh, hey, Will. Is Joyce home?”

“Sure yeah, just a minute. Can we come over to the store tomorrow? Mike said Nancy said Robin said you’re going back to work tomorrow morning?”

And Steve can hear Mike in his head, ‘and Steve’s at least good for his stupid staff discount,’ “Yeah, yeah sure-”

“Cool so we can come watch stuff tomorrow afternoon?”

“I-yeah,” Steve looks at where Eddie is using a door frame to scratch between his shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth aggressively, “yeah, maybe.”

“Cool, okay, see you tomorrow!”

There’s a moment of quiet, and then, “hello?”

“Oh, hi, Joyce. It’s, uhm...Eddie’s kind of, itchy? Like he’s suddenly peeling all over? Do you know what we could do?”

“Oh...well when the boys had had chicken pox I put them in the bath with some baking soda, that helped?”

“Okay, okay yeah, I’ll give that a go, I just don’t know why this is happening.”

“It does kind of make sense, new born babies peel.”

“They do?” Steve asks, slightly horrified.

“Yeah, yeah, usually happens sort of within the first week, I think. What was his first poop like?”

“I-” Steve stalls for a second, this conversation having just taken a really weird turn, “I don’t know, hang on,” Steve pulls the phone away from his ear, “Eddie?”

Eddie comes over, “Joyce says the peeling is normal, we can go have a bath in a minute, it might make it better, okay?”

“Together?” Eddie asks, and Steve can hear Joyce snickering down the phone, clearly having heard it.

Steve just ignores that whole thing, “what was your first poop like?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “green. Sticky.”

Really? Steve thinks, green? Steve puts the phone back to his ear, “did you hear that?”

“Yeah, that makes sense Steve, it all tracks. He’s just like a newborn.”

That is...not appealing, Steve can’t help but think.

Eddie’s skin sloughs off like something out of a horror movie. Once lubricated by the warm water, made to feel slick with the baking soda, it comes away in great curling pieces. Eddie picks at himself with his claw like nails, Steve leaning over the edge and getting all the little flakes with a loofah. Steve gets to Eddie’s feet, and Eddie giggles and tries to drag his foot away when Steve gets to the arch, thrashing in surprise.

“You’re ticklish!” Steve tells him, delighted.

“Not,” Eddie insists, almost immediately.

“Alright, so you won’t mind if I-” Steve pins his ankle in the water, using his other hand to tickle Eddie’s foot.

Eddie thrashes, water going everywhere, “stop. No. Stee, Stee, stop,” he can barely get the words out he’s laughing and thrashing so much, but Steve takes mercy on him and doesn’t do it for long.

Eddie’s still laughing after, trying to catch his breath, wriggling his toes and watching in amazement. Once he’s settled down, he reaches into the water, bending a knee to reach and tickle his own foot, then frowning when nothing happens, “Stee? Not ticklish.”

“Oh,” Steve says the picture of innocence, “let me try?”

Eddie nods, watching, and then instantly fighting again, laughing, Steve’s clothes are wet with splashed water, “Stee Stee noooooo,” Eddie wails, but when Steve stops again he’s grinning, all flush and breathless.

“Ticklish,” Steve tells him.

“Stee ticklish?”

“Nope,” Steve lies confidently, there is no way in hell he’s giving Eddie that one.

“Why ticklish time Stee touch, not ticklish time Eddidie touch?”

“I...you know I don’t actually know why you can’t tickle yourself. Just one of those things, I guess,” he says, shrugging, “right I think you’re all done, most of it’s gone, right?”

“Most of it’s gone, right.”

Eddie’s still flaking the last tiny bits as he dries off, but it seems to be pretty much done; Eddie drops his towel in the hamper, and pouts when Steve makes him put his hat in there too, “it’s covered in skin, we can do laundry and you’ll have it back, okay?”

“Okay. Bed now?”

“It’s too early for bed-” Eddie comes and stands in front of Steve, completely naked, pressing himself forward, holding Steve’s hips, “ohhhhh...bed now. Sure, yep, we can do that.”

Eddie grins, peeling Steve’s damp shirt up, Steve lifting his arms to help. Eddie drops it carelessly on the floor, going next for Steve's pants, pulling everything down in one go and letting it drop so that Steve can step out of it and kick it away. Steve takes Eddie by the hips and walks him back towards the bed.

Eddie goes easily, shuffling his way back, Steve crawling on after him to climb between Eddie’s parted legs, keeping his weight off Eddie and on his forearms, leaning down for more hungry kisses.

Steve feels it when Eddie’s dick slips out, the head nuzzling against Steve’s pubic hair as Steve’s own cock starts to firm up, to fill out. Eddie’s dick isn’t as intimidating now Steve knows it can’t bite him, those little nobbles are too small to do anything, and even when it was holding on as tight as it could to Steve’s thumb, during Eddie’s orgasm, it didn’t hurt at all.

Steve reaches down to adjust himself, pulling his hardening cock up to lie against the crease of Eddie’s hip, rather than being trapped pointing down. Eddie’s cock follows Steve’s fingers immediately, and Steve stops a second to pet it, stroking along the length before he goes back to resting on both arms, leaning in for more kisses.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, parting his legs naturally to accommodate Steve as he settles in, Eddie drawing his knees up a little. The position is close enough that it makes Steve think...makes him remember a thought he'd had from the first time, “can we try something?”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie replies easily.

“Okay, but I need to make you come first, alright?” Eddie nods, clearly very happy with that plan.

Steve hums, thinking. Eddie’s never had sex with anyone else; Eddie is, also, a creature from The Upside Down. Eddie bit Steve’s toes off and it never got infected, and they’ve also kissed and touched a lot and Steve’s never gotten sick, never shown any sign of catching anything. There doesn’t seem to be any possibility that Eddie might be a...carrier, of some sort of disease but...on the balance of probability, Steve figures better safe than sorry. Steve’s been with plenty of girls, but he’s always used protection, so he’s pretty sure that he’s clean but...what if he isn't, and he inadvertently gives something to Eddie? Steve has no idea what Eddie’s immune system might be like and...yeah. Eddie definitely can’t make an informed choice around all this, at least, not yet. So.

He leans over, shifting off Eddie a little to rummage in the top drawer, his fingers fiddling in the box until he manages to pull out a condom.

He leaves the wrapper there on the bed, in easy reach.

“Called?”

“Oh, it’s a condom. I’ll show you what it’s for in a bit, okay?”

Eddie nods, accepting that, before pulling Steve down for more kisses. Soft and sweet, with just a hint of Eddie’s only slightly too sharp teeth. They kiss, Steve taking his time, just enjoying the feeling of Eddie holding him. Eddie’s hands are just as curious as his mind, left to their own devices they roam every bit of Steve they can reach, flowing the dip of his spine and the curve of his ass. Groping and kneading at his shoulders, the tops of his arms. Buried in his hair, scratching gently and tugging lightly. Steve drinks it all in; can feel how much Eddie loves him, how intent every touch is. Like Eddie’s memorizing him.

Like every inch of Steve is precious.

Likewise Eddie’s cock is wriggling back and forward between them, burrowing it's way through the narrow space, the head rubbing against Steve’s hip and then nuzzling into his pubes; he feels it when the head opens, the flower petals pressing against Steve’s skin before moving on. He feels it when Eddie’s cock finds the base of his own, it seems to wriggle around it, the head pressing against one side and withdrawing, only to creep along the other. The petals open, grasping at the hard flesh at the base of Steve’s dick. He moans, rutting against the crease of Eddie’s thigh, Eddie’s dick following the movement, hanging on in a gentle clutch at Steve’s flesh.

Eddie likes it too, if the huffing, breathy little sighs he’s letting out are anything to go by, so Steve doesn’t stop. He lifts enough to look down between their bodies, and Eddie does the same. The black flower petals are a stark contrast against the skin of Steve’s cock; they’ve latched to the side, near the base, and a thick drip of precome stretches a connection between the head of Steve’s cock and the skin of Eddie’s hip.

Eddie starts wriggling, hips lifting, “Stee. Please more? Eddidie come.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve lets his hips rest against the cradle of Eddie’s again, keeping his weight on his forearms he leans in for kisses that Eddie returns eagerly, matching the movements of Steve’s hips with an enthusiastic slide of his own, Steve’s cock slippery wet now with precome, “you close to coming baby?”

Eddie frowns, head tilted back, letting Steve kiss and nip at his throat, “yes no.”

“Okay,” and Steve can’t keep doing this for that much longer, otherwise he’s going to come and that’ll be the end of his idea, “want me to touch you?”

“Yes. Touch good.”

“Okay,” Steve pulls off completely then, letting himself tilt to the side. Eddie’s dick looks like it’s stretched to the absolute limit, clearly not wanting to let go of Steve. Steve reached down, distracting it with the touch of fingers; it goes eagerly. Once Eddie’s dick has let go, Steve rolls the rest of the way to lie on his hip, the same as last time, snugged up against Eddie’s side. He takes Eddie’s eager cock in hand more naturally this time, more sure of what he’s doing.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie turns into it. He’s clearly distracted, his kisses sloppier now, wetter, half the time his mouth hanging open as he pants and moans quietly, Steve’s thumb working circles across the open head of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whimpers, “okay?”

Eddie shakes his head, frowning, “not-not coming.” He squirms, face crinkled up in frustration and, possibly, discomfort, so Steve stops but Eddie immediately says, “no. More touch,” so Steve starts up the gentle movements of his thumb. Eddie’s hips squirm more, his cock pulsing and twitching, almost bucking in Steve’s hand; he’s so close, Steve knows he is, there’s just something stopping him.

Eddie needs more, and Steve doesn’t know what to do for him; it’s not like Eddie has nipples he can play with, “baby, what do you need?”

“Rough,” Eddie says suddenly, and oh, Steve gets that, maybe his thumbs tugging a little. He sits up, leaning over same as before, letting his mouth fill with spit. He pins Eddie’s cock still, but it’s wriggling so much that only half of it lands on target, the rest spattering on the webbing between Steve’s finger and thumb.

Steve doesn’t have chance to even get his thumb back in place, that’s enough, Eddie’s hips bucking as he cries out, the loudest noise he’s made so far. The flower petals half close, then open a little, doing a weird little celebratory Mexican wave type thing as Eddie’s back arches sharply, and his right leg twitches violently.

Steve just rides it out, letting Eddie’s body lift his own as Eddie’s hips roll again and again. Eventually it passes and Eddie settles, “okay baby?”

Eddie hums, his cheeks flush and his brown eyes bright, “perfect okay.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “all done?”

Eddie nods, then sighs with contentment, “inied.”

“Good,” Steve lets his cock go, it’s almost funny how it sort of lays down, like a little drunk dude just lying right there on the floor. “Still up for trying something?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay,” Steve clambers up, sitting on his knees next to Eddie, he opens the condom and then, pinching the end, carefully rolls it down to the base of his own cock.

“Why?” Eddie asks, watching with interest now.

“Oh it...well. If you were a girl, it would stop you getting pregnant.”

“Called preg-nant?” Eddie sounds the word out slowly.

“Yeah,” Steve pats his own stomach, trying to word it how Eddie might understand, “planting a baby.”

“Eddidie baby,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, yeah I know, but I mean baby like...tadpole.”

Eddie sits up then, “tell Eddidie many many baby! Baby called tadpole! Eddidie not kid!”

Steve rubs his face, “oh man,” Steve gets Eddie by the shoulders, but he can’t help but smile, “baby is because...I love you, okay? I know you’re not a tadpole. I know you’re not a kid, okay, it’s just...someone special. Someone important. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” but Eddie doesn’t look like he’s buying it, at all. And Steve’s sitting here with a throbbingly hard dick and it’s not exactly the conversation he wants to be having right this second.

“Okay, moles? Remember how moles are little animals but moles are also this,” Steve points to his neck, Eddie nods, “two different...but it’s the same word, yeah?”

Eddie’s face lights with understanding, and Steve knows he’s won, “okay, yeah. Eddidie baby.”

“Okay...so how do you feel about me putting my dick in you?” Steve shuffles between Eddie’s legs, his hard cock pointing the way to exactly where he wants to be.

“In? Wet?” Eddie questions. He reaches down to indicate what he means, he uses two fingers, his black oval shaped nails part his glistening wet slit in what is, unintentionally, possibly one of the most erotic things Steve’s ever seen. From where he’s kneeling between Eddie’s spread thighs, he gets a good look at just how wet and pink Eddie is inside, flooded with clear, jello like come.

Steve cock twitches, remembering just how tight it was on his finger, he tries to speak and fails, needing to clear his throat, “yeah, in. Do you want to try?”

Eddie nods, lying back and bending his knees more, letting his thighs fall further apart, the mouth of the slit slick and gaping.

Steve takes a deep breath, letting himself sink forward and down, he takes his weight on one hand where he hovers over Eddie. Using his other hand to guide the head of his dick, notching it at the opening of Eddie’s body.

Eddie's hand flies to Steve’s shoulder, gripping hard, so Steve stops, his eyes dragging, with great difficulty, away from where the rounded head of his condom covered dick is just breaching Eddie, “okay?”

Eddie frowns a little, looking worried, “slowly? Carefully?”

“I-yeah, of course. Eddie we don’t have to do this-”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie insists, “Eddidie tell no.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Eddidie tell no,” he says again, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, but you’ll tell me if it does hurt?”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie tell ow.”

“Okay,” Steve looks back down to what he’s doing, allowing himself to slide forward just the most fraction of an inch.

Almost immediately Eddie says, “ow.”

Steve freezes, looking back up. “It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie says innocently.

Steve can tell Eddie’s trying, and failing, to hide a grin, “you’re such a little shit.”

Eddie does laugh then, “little shit. Okay, Steve in now. Promise okay now.”

Steve shakes his head, taking a deep breath, he sinks in. Eddie’s channel is narrow, and it grips the sides of Steve’s cock beautifully. Eddie’s come is so thick and wet it slicks the way, and Eddie is just so fucking warm inside. It’s bliss.

He’s so wet inside that when Steve bottoms out, there’s an obscenely wet squelching noise, and Steve can feel the thick gloop of it dripping out and seeping onto his balls, forced out of Eddie’s body by Steve’s cock. “How does that feel? Okay?”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it again, like he often does when he’s searching his limited vocabulary. He presses a hand to his stomach, lifting it a little to indicate being bloated or...“after Christmas food.”

“Full.”

Eddie nods, “full,” he shifts then, experimentally rolling his hips, and Steve can’t help but moan at the sucking drag of Eddie’s hole on Steve cock. “Good?”

“So good. You’re so so good for me baby, can I move?”

“Go, yes.”

Steve keeps his weight up off of Eddie, mostly because he wants to watch. When he pulls his cock back out, it’s shiny wet, clumps of Eddie’s slick clinging to the condom like slithers of jello. Steve, cautiously, slides all the way back in.

Eddie sighs, lifting one leg to rest his calf on Steve’s back, changing the angle a little so that Steve’s cock is guided now by the bottom of Eddie’s channel, he’s gripped tight on three sides, and it’s not like anything Steve’s ever felt before.

He already knows this is going to be a short show, but he’s pretty sure Eddie said he can’t come like this anyway, so hopefully he doesn’t mind. The glide is so slick Steve rocks in and out easily, his skin warming, the space between them becoming clammy. Steve can distinctly feel that crease of flesh, the pucker he’d found, dragging up and down the underside of his cock with every thrust.

Eddie holds him tight, one hand gripping Steve’s side, the other on his shoulder before it migrates into Steve’s hair when he leans down to kiss Eddie.

His balls are tight and wet with slick where they're nudging up against Eddie's body, and he’s so close already, he just needs his mouth on Eddie, needs Eddie’s tongue in his mouth when he chokes out a groan, “gonna’ come baby,” against Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie’s eyes are alert and bright, watching with interest. He makes little huffing noises when Steve goes particularly deep but otherwise he’s not showing much sign of actually getting off on this, “yes. Come in Eddidie.”

Steve does, his cock twitching as he grinds up tight to Eddie, filling the condom with sticky mess. He’s a little out of breath as he comes down, panting where his face is buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck; Eddie rubbing his back lovingly, “good Stee?”

“Yeah. Yeah so good baby, thank you.”

“Get cleaned up?”

Steve laughs a little, then forces himself to move, reaching between them to grip the condom at the base so he can pull out. Eddie makes a little chirrup of a noise when Steve’s clear of him, a little shiver running the length of his body and then he stretches luxuriously, arms above his head, wriggling his toes, a picture of contentment. All of his crotch is shiny wet, and as Steve watches his dick sort of rolls over and then slowly withdraws.

Steve pulls off the condom and ties it, Eddie watching with interest, then wrinkling his nose when he sees what’s inside, “taste bad.”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Eddie trails after Steve into the bathroom, watching as he ditches the condom in the trash, “called complaints?”

“Uhm...no one else, other people, non of them said it tastes bad.”

Steve’s got the shower going, and when he turns, Eddie’s frown is nuclear, his hands on his hips in a determined Steve pose, “other people,” he repeats icily.

“Oh boy.”

Steve sighs. He’s been back to work for, he checks the clock for about the hundredth time, nearly two hours, and he’s already had enough. He’s almost looking forward to the kids showing up. Not that it isn’t nice to finally spend some time with Robin but...he kind of misses Eddie. It’s probably like, the honey moon stage, or whatever, the first shiny new part of a relationship when all you want it them but...still.

When the phone rings, Robin calls, “I’m not getting that.”

Steve sighs, leaving his stack of returns and leaning over the counter to scrabble for the phone, “hello, Family Video, how can I help-”

“Stee love.”

“Eddie? How did you- never mind, you okay?”

“No. Eddidie ow. Hurt.”

“Okay, I’m coming home, not long.” Steve hangs up, “Robs! I just got to go home a second, that okay?”

“Oh no,” she says from where she’s rolling back and forth on the office chair, waiting for a tape to rewind, “whatever will I do in the face of this horde of customers,” there’s currently one dude in the store, “I shall never cope with-”

“Yeah yeah, back soon.”

Steve doesn’t break any traffic laws on the way home, but he probably pushes it. Eddie’s on the couch when Steve gets in, looking alert and watching for Steve, “you okay?”

“Eddidie hurt,” he says, looking sad suddenly.

“Okay, show me.”

And Eddie stalls. Just for a moment, but long enough for Steve to catch it, before he, vaguely, indicates his tummy.

Steve suddenly has an inkling as to what’s going on here, but he comes to sit next to Eddie anyway, resting a gentle hand on his tummy, “hows that.”

Eddie nods, “good. TV?”

“Oh no. If you’re sick, then no TV. We just have to sit quiet.”

“Dinner food?”

“Definitely not. No. Here, lie down.”

Eddie does, but with a frown on his face, “Stee Eddidie out in car?”

“Nope.”

Eddie’s pout has achieved spectacular levels, “why?”

“Because you’re sick.”

It seems to dawn on Eddie that he has been completely caught out in his lie. Steve watches it happen, the emotions slowly play out. Eddie looks like he’s going through the stages of grief or something.

“How did you get works number? To call me?”

“One book,” it sounds like ‘own book.’

Steve hums, “how did you know which number it was?”

Eddie points to Steve’s vest, where it clearly says ‘Family Video’ over the little breast pocket.

“You’re so fucking clever. But I have to go back to work. You’re fine, aren’t you?” Eddie pouts, “you must never tell lies.”

“Called lie?” Eddie asks, shame faced now, plucking at his sleeve.

“Not true.” Steve tugs at his vest, “this is green. True. This is blue. Lie. Eddie is fine, true. Eddie has an ow, lie. We never tell lies.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Steve bends down to kiss Eddie on the cheek, “I’ll be back around nine, okay?”

“Steve, you want anything else?”

“No thanks Joyce that was amazing. Here, let me help with dishes, you should sit.”

“No, you’re a guest-”

“Let the kid help-” Hopper starts.

“Because it gets you out of it,” Joyce huffs, but it’s fond, and she leans over and kisses Hop on the cheek.

When Steve gets back, Eddie is sitting on the couch with El, one leg pulled up, his fingers locked together over his shin, “Steve,” she says.

Eddie leans forward, a look of great concentration on his face, “Ste-eee,” he says, but it comes out wobbling and uncertain.

“No, it’s got a ‘v’ in it,” and she makes the ‘v’ sound again, “so, Stee-ve,”

“Vee?” El nods, “Ste-vie?”

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Watching them, he feels a strange sense of happiness for Eddie, but also melancholy; he knows he’s about to loose, ‘Stee’. It was inevitable, he knows, Eddie’s getting better at speaking all the time. This was always going to happen.

“Almost, Steve,” she stresses the second part of Steve’s name.

“Steee-vie?” Eddie frowns, looking a bit frustrated that his mouth isn’t cooperating.

“I like Stevie,” Steve says, heading over to them.

Eddie nods, “Ste-vie,” he says proudly, “Stevie love?”

Out of it fall a drivers license, a passport, a birth certificate. Steve is caught for a second looking at the little picture of Eddie in his wig, and he guesses it works well enough. You have to really squint at the little picture to figure anything is up with it, and even then Steve figures he knows so he's looking for it, and the picture is obviously Eddie. He reads the details on the license, “Edwin!” He says, suddenly outraged, “Munson?! Hopper what the-”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve wedges himself between Eddie and the arm of the couch, then Jon files in and sits on the floor, making room as the coffee table gets shifted. Joyce

Hopper and Mike squeeze onto the other couch, “here kid,” Hopper passes an envelope across.

“It’s what it said on the paper!”

“It did not say ‘Edwin’-”

“Eddie is not anyone's name kid, Eddie is always short for something else-”

“Edwin though?!”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head-”

Steve feels Eddie take the stack of papers out of his hands to inspect them, “and Munson? It said Mon-son! With an ‘O’!”

“It did not!” Hopper digs around in his pocket for the scrap of paper Steve had handed him along with the photos, “here, Munson.”

“That’s an ‘O’!”

“Well it looks like a ‘U’!”

“Stevie,” Eddie says carefully, “Stevie love, drive car again now?”

Steve looks over, Eddie’s carefully turning the pages of his new passport, inspecting his license, reading his birth certificate, like all of it is the most precious things he’s ever seen, “yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, yeah of course.” Eddie beams at him.

Hoppers eyebrows are practically in his hair, “what does he mean, ‘again’?”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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strlvvr · 4 months

Text

my best friends brother (is the one for me) - part three

i’m so excited for this series you guys aren’t ready

word count: 903 words

read part two here!

⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ୭ৎ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

i woke up with the sun shining into my face. i turned around to try to get some more sleep, only to roll into matt. i had forgotten that i had slept in his room with him. i moved away from him and watched his chest rise and fall, small snores coming from his mouth with every exhale. i stretched my arm out, grazing over his chest, letting myself wonder what it would be like if it were like this all the time.

i watched as he slowly opened his eyes, moving his hands up to rub the sleep away from them. he turned over to face me with a goofy smile on his face.

“good morning.” he groaned as he stretched. i couldn’t helped looking at the skin peeking out from the hem of his shirt.

my attention being drawn away from a knock on the door.

“did y/n leave last- nevermind.” nick said while opening the door.

“sorry, we ended up watching another movie and by the time it was over you were already asleep. i didn’t want to wake you up.” i said, almost defensively, while starting to get out of bed.

“where’s my phone?” matt asked me, scrambling around him for it.

“oh, i put it over here with mine last night,” i grabbed the two phones handing him his, not before looking down at the screen lighting up. i recognized the wallpaper, it was a picture of us and his brothers from the last time we were in boston. one of few pictures we had taken that trip, he had his arms hugging my waist with his brothers next to us in a security camera. i smiled as i gave him his phone, getting up to go see what chris and nick were making for breakfast.

the only way i can describe the smell in my nose is burnt. the closer i got to the kitchen the worse it smelt. i walked into the kitchen to see chris running around, like he was trying to hide the evidence of anything going wrong.

despite the horrible smell, the food was surprisingly good. laid out on the table were eggs, slices of toast, bacon, sausage links, and waffles. it looked shockingly good, considering who cooked it. i grabbed a plate and started piling food onto it when i heard matt come out of his room. he walked right past me, grabbing a plate and walking to the table. i sat at an empty chair, thinking matt was going to sit next to me but he sat the furthest away from me.

i half ignored the conversation, eating my food and wondering what was up with matt. he was keeping to himself more than usual and not acting himself.

“you still with us y/n?” chris asked, finishing the food he just ate.

“oh yeah, sorry i’m in my own world,” i pushed the eggs around on my plate.

i can feel matt’s eyes on me as chris asks if i’m sure. i stood up and walked over to the garbage, scraping my food into the trash. i heard someone get up from the table and felt them behind me.

“why’d you lie to him?” it was matt.

“i don’t know why you care.” i shrugged, trying to act like it doesn’t matter.

“of course i care, y/n,” he said in disbelief, “why wouldn’t i?”

i felt my heart drop but i just shook my head, walking away.

୭ৎ୭ৎ୭ৎ

walking to my car, i felt a slight sprinkling of rain hit my face. disregarding it, i got in my car and starting driving home.

halfway to my house i saw matt’s contact popping up on the screen in my car.

’matt!! is calling’

i didn’t answer, half focused on the pounding rain on the road and half because i did not want to talk to him at the moment. after the ringing stopped, i turned up the music and kept driving, not being able to stop thinking about him.

‘matt!! sent you a message’

i ignored it.

‘matt!! sent you a message’

i grabbed my phone and shut it off.

turning down my road, the rain started to let up a little bit. i passed my driveway, not wanting to go home just yet. i circled my neighborhood for a few minutes before going home, dreading turning my phone back on.

once i walked in, i immediately got in the shower, not bothering to turn my phone on. i needed five minutes to myself without him texting or calling me. i couldn’t stop the events of last night replaying in my mind.

getting out of the shower, i started trying to decide what movie i should watch. changing into shorts and a big shirt, i got into my bed. i decided on watching shutter island, considering i was just ranting about it the night before.

i decided to turn my phone back on, finding eleven messages and three missed calls from matt.

‘are you okay?’

‘hello?’

‘y/n answer me please’

‘look it was raining pretty hard i just want to know if you’re okay’

“y/n’

‘i’m seriously getting worried.’

‘please just text me’

‘or just like a message.’

‘please.

‘i’m sorry’

‘i'm coming over’

the last message was sent at 11:26 a.m. i looked at the time and it was 11:47 a.m.

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highvern · 4 months

Text

Green Light

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut, hint of fluff at the end

warnings: making out, blowjob, ruined orgasm, minor breath play? (hoshi feels his dick in reader’s throat)

Length: ~3k

Note: well here we are again in 2 days later. thank you @gyuswhore for suffering with me for this. this can be read as a stand alone but is much better after reading part 1 below

series m.list: Houdini [s], Yuck [f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

First dates are something you’re well versed in.

A guise of mindless chatter over dinner, pretending to be interested in the minutia until patience runs thin and someone not so subtly confirms their roommates aren’t home. You know it, you embrace it, and you’ve done it many times.

What you aren’t used to is being tricked into a first date after already getting to the good part.

It’d been a long week of texting that led to teasing another meet up but incompatible schedules and demanding friends kept anything from coming to fruition.

When Soonyoung asked if you wanted to watch a movie, you assumed it was just an excuse to get you back in his bed without crudely requesting a repeat. It's a Saturday night and well past appropriate hours for anything else. When he asked for your address, you assumed he was already out and was trying to be accommodating. When he said he was waiting downstairs whenever you were ready, you thought he was planning to take you back to his place which worked out because with only ten minutes to prepare, your room resembled a disaster zone you’d rather not have a witness too.

But then he drove fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of his street, and you realize maybe all your assumptions were wrong.

At a red light, the blinker’s rhythm drives you to speak up.

You whip around from the window to face him. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“I don’t think it counts as kidnapping if you came willingly,” Soonyoung says, turning left when the signal allows.

“That doesn’t matter if you lured me under false pretenses.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch a movie, that's what we're doing.”

“But your apartment is the other way,” you say like he isn’t aware.

“You know, they have these buildings with huge screens and all they do is play movies there. Really fascinating stuff. Oh, and look! There’s one.”

He pulls into one of the spaces near the back and throws the car in park before exiting without another word. A movie theater. You might as well be on Mars.

Trailing behind, you stand dumbfounded while Soonyoung pays for tickets and popcorn like this is something normal to do on a Saturday night. For most people it would be. Maybe it is for him. He seems like the date type, even if looks like he rolled out of bed seconds before picking you up.

You’re wearing sweatpants with nothing underneath for the sake of planting in his lap and watching him fawn over your boobs again, not to sit in a theater for two hours surrounded by whatever weirdos are hanging around this late on a weekend. The thick fabric doesn’t give anything away but you might as well be naked with how exposed you feel.

Even in the dark, he keeps up the charade; eyes forward, hands to himself except when his fingers brush yours in the popcorn bucket like some corny romcom. He pays attention to the trailers while you stare like you’re witnessing a car crash playout in real time.

When the actual movie starts, Soonyoung lifts the arm rest out of the way, pulling you as close as possible with an arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the move in some cheesy stretch, just brings you into the heat of his side like it's normal. You sweat where he presses tight through your clothes.

You don’t even know what movie is playing except there's some evil guy trying to take over the world while some other guy runs around in spandex trying to stop him and Soonyoung seems to find it fascinating. He’s choosing superheroes over getting laid. If it didn’t bruise your ego you might find the humor in it.

The theater isn’t crowded, not for a Saturday night. Only two other couples sit spread apart in the rows below. They’d have to turn 180 degrees to see you and Soonyoung and even then the high backs on the chairs would hide anything overtly scandalous.

So you wait until the soundtrack rises to a crescendo just in case anyone becomes alert to your plans. You’ve never sucked dick in public but the idea of Soonyoung struggling to stay quiet while stretching your throat raw is too alluring to ignore.

And with the way he spreads his thighs, it might as well be an open invitation.

Your hands start at his knee, just the barest amount of weight so he doesn’t scream like a horror movie character. The muscles jump under your nails but not a peep. You don’t even care that you’re staring at Soonyoung head on, completely abandoning the film in favor of watching for his reaction.

A tilt of your chin puts you level with that spot on his jaw you claimed last weekend. There isn’t proof you were there but the way he whined your name from a few harsh rakes of teeth is burned in your brain. He smells great and the warmth rolling of him lulls you further in until your mouth is at his neck.

The barest graze of your lips has Soonyoung jumping but he doesn’t stop you, just curls the arm around your shoulder tighter. Taking advantage, you trail soft kisses in an attempt to make him pliant.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

A languid kiss to his pulse. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re trying—oh.”

The hand at his crotch is snatched away before you can convince him to let you slip beneath the waistband.

“You’ll get us kicked out.”

“Only if you can’t stay quiet,” you argue.

Someone below shushes you two sharpley. You want to throw the bucket of popcorn at their head.

“We both know I won’t.” Soonyoung whispers into your hairline, pinning your hand beneath his against your thigh. “Just wait until later.”

“Seriously?” you scoff.

You’d leave but Soonyoung drove and you don’t want to wait in the cold for an Uber (your bank account doesn’t support the idea either). There is also the promise of getting what you want later that keeps your butt firmly planted in the worn upholstery until the credits roll. You even manage to find interest in the last twenty minutes, and are a little disappointed when the lights come up, only because Soonyoung has been holding your hand, and the stroke of his thumb atop your knuckles isn’t the worst feeling in the world.

When the lights come up and the screen freezes on the final frame, Soonyoung stays planted. Which means you stay planted because where would you go? Something about a post credit bonus scene he wants to see. Maybe he’s into edging.

When the employee tasked with sweeping the sticky, soda stained floors starts circling your row with palpable annoyance, you two finally get up and leave.

“Did you like the movie?” Soonyoung asks, making a face against the cold slapping against your faces as you exit the theater and head to the parking lot.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

“Next time you can choose,” he says. “Superhero stuff isn’t my thing but I thought it was a safe pick.”

Next time.

Absolutely, under no circumstances, would there be a next time. Because if there is a next time then Soonyoung definitely thinks this was a date which isn’t something you do. Ever. Especially not with guys that may or may not have a tiger fetish.

You open your mouth to correct whatever silly fantasies are swirling together in his head but stop short. Maybe it's his fingers knotting themselves back between yours or the optimistic smile splitting his face but it feels cruel to crush something so innocent on the asphalt like a cigarette bud under your heel. He’ll figure out your game eventually. No point in racing him towards the conclusion before he’s ready.

At the far corner of the parking lot, away from any prying eyes or ears, he crowds you into the side of his beat up Jeep.

“So… it’s later.” His eyes lock on your mouth, eager to indulge in what you offered so readily earlier like you haven’t changed your mind.

You haven’t but he doesn’t have to know that.

“Yeah, kinda tired now.” You feign a yawn to hide a smirk at the drop in his features.

“Really?” he drops but tries not to be too obvious. “I can take you home if you want.”

“Yeah, unless,” his ears perk up at the tone. “There's something I should stay awake for.”

There is. It's heavy against your thigh where he has you pinned and makes your mouth water.

Getting into the backseat has you feeling like a teenager again. Clumsy with an elbow bent at an odd angle and your legs tangled as you slip over the center console. The floor is a mess of clothes and other random shit you don’t bother taking a closer look at because Soonyoung’s lap makes a decent seat.

You’re folded in half just to prevent getting a concussion because the roof is low but it's a good excuse to bite along that spot on Soonyoung’s neck that's been tempting you all night. It tastes like satisfaction.

The cab is silent except for the sound of kissing with too much tongue and all the noises he eagerly supplies like he wants you to make fun of him. Breathy whines and sharp whimpers as he gropes your ass. A hand aids in grinding you against his crotch while the other slips up your sweater.

“You haven’t been wearing a bra this whole time?” he cries.

“Nope,” you hum, nipping at his earlobe to feel his cock twitch against your ass. “Wanna know what else I’m not wearing?”

Something along the lines of ‘I’m gonna pass out’ comes out in a rush as he rushes to discover how wet you’ve been since he picked you up.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans from the slip of your folds across his fingers.

“Should have let me suck your dick inside.”

“I know.”

“Would you have let me?”

“I would have fucked you in that theater if I knew you weren’t wearing panties, good god.”

A shift of hips lets you pull his cock out from the confinement of his pants. You can’t really see much but the outline with how dark it is, but he’s hard as steel and leaking. Your mouth waters for a taste.

Getting to your knees on the floor proves more challenging than it should. There’s no room so you're forced to balance between kneeling and crouching with a bony knee digging into your ribs. The bathroom would have been far better for this, consequences be damned. Too late now.

“Your car is too small for this,” you say before taking a quick lick at the swollen head peeking through your fingers.

“Never — shit — had any complaints before.”

“Do you fuck a lot of girls in here?”

He curls in half on the next squeeze, like he might cum already. A reply fizzles on his lips for a few seconds but every time he gets settled to answer you up the stakes; tapping his cock against your tongue until a fresh taste of precum rewards you, raking your nails over his thigh, jerking him off into your mouth. Soonyoung doesn’t blink in fear he’ll wake up and it’ll all turn out to be a dream.

When Soonyoung looks on the verge of spontaneous combustion, you let him speak.

“Why?” he sighs. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

The idea of him fucking other girls flashes a bolt of something in your veins. Annoyance he’s even capable of thinking of anyone else while you’ve got his dick in your hand, maybe. Jealousy isn’t something a guy you’ve hooked up with once should even be able to hint at.

“Tell me when you’re close.” The playful tease is long gone from your voice. “And not when you’re already cumming or you’ll never see TamTam again.”

Eyes squeezed tight, he releases another harsh groan. This time to the roof because you’re already tonguing against the raised vein on the side of cock. “Fuck, okay. I can do that.”

You swallow him back down easily. Something in his tone stokes the desire to break him; make him cry from getting his dick sucked in the back of his car in an empty parking lot like a loser. It gets you wetter knowing how eager Soonyoung would satisfy that urge if you bothered asking.

He squirms when your nose meets the wisps of hair at his base, cock wedge deep in your throat because you like to show off and know he’ll worship the ground you walk on for it.

“Holy shit.”

One of his hands sneaks along the back of your neck. Just the weight, probably for his own comfort more than anything else. The idea of him fucking your throat makes you clench.

You tell him as much when you come up for air.

“You can’t just say shit like that.” Soonyoung moans with a rut through your fist. “Fuck.”

“Why not?”

The innocence in your voice is beyond deceitful. You could probably walk him straight into cumming his pants with words alone. But you wait for an answer while lapping at the tip like it’s candy, staring right up at him through wet lashes.

“Because,” he winces, hips bucking up from another dig of your thumb. “Your mouth—hmmm.”

You give your thighs a break by rushing up into his space for a kiss. He isn’t shy from taste his own spend in your mouth, hands hot up the front of your shirt once again now that the angle allows. Cruel for the sole purpose of seeing him crumble, you tug off your top and rub his cock against your nipples until he paws at the seat for a crumb of comfort.

“Fuck, oh my god. Where did you—”

He only trails off when you bring his hand to your throat, waiting for him to take firmer hold. You see the light leave his eyes. Mind blank because the offer is too sweet to comprehend.

You suck him back into your mouth, slowly working down until the curve of his hand circles the bulge in your throat. The odd angle doesn’t lend any comfort but you blink away the dampness at your eyes because Soonyoung is rambling again and its music to your ears.

“Oh! —Oh, shit. That's, wow.” he pants with a gentle squeeze. You aren’t a fan of being choked under regular circumstances but something about how appreciative he is encourages you to treat him with uncharacteristic indulgence.

“Okay okay, shit, I’m close.”

But not after what he’s put you through tonight.

His hips curl up in a failed attempt as you pull away, desperate to keep the heat of your mouth for a few more seconds to no avail. The only relief you grace him with is a tight squeeze at the head just in case he was closer than he let on.

You sit up and wipe away the mess of drool and precum from your chin, reveling in the open mouth shock Soonyoung appraises you with. “You can take me home now.”

“But…” he makes a pointed gesture to his cock, soaked and painfully hard in his lap. Maybe you’d feel bad for him, but that's only if he didn’t deserve what you’re doing.

“Call one of those other girls that doesn’t complain to take care of it.”

The drive back to your apartment feels infinitely long in the thick silence. Soonyoung’s eyes are all over your body, probably trying to gauge just how pissed you are. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. So you stay quiet and find entertainment by picking at the nonexistent dirt under your nails.

“Well…this was fun?” Soonyoung supplies as he pulls up to the curb in front of your door.

You don’t even respond. A click of the seatbelt and latch of the door announcing your exit as you beeline for the stairs.

You want to stick to your guns and let him suffer for the comment earlier with blue balls. But you also want to drag him into your room and punish him by proving you’re the best he’ll ever have. You only manage to make it two steps from the car before the latter part wins.

Spinning around, you throw the door open with enough force to startle Soonyoung. “Are you coming?”

“Really?”

“Unless you wanted to go hom—” you turn away.

“Nope, let's go.” He doesn’t seem to believe the offer. But disbelief doesn’t keep him from jumping up at the offer, cock still straining against his sweatpants and the seatbelt is off with the next blink.

He rounds the hood swiftly, corralling you up the few steps that lead to the front door in haste to finish what started in the back seat. You trip in your own eagerness, lips welcoming his with a lewd lick at the seam that would make your elderly neighbor keel over.

“Soonyoung,” you hum.

“Hmmm,” he growls into the kiss, pressing you flat against the front door. “Love when you say my name like that.”

“Good to know,” you laugh. “But you left your car on.”

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