#he makes 14 dishes

[honeygrahambitch]

When Will asks Hannibal for food Hannibal goes into eastern-european-grandma mode

[paul-simon-juggling]

Today I bring you a 1980 Paul interview that made me lose my mind like nothing else : )

[sirensea14]

The Human!Questers (Holly, alice and cala are excluded)

This is cringe and a bit cursed💀 but i posted it anywaaaayy

[sheerioswifties]

.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Big sister core is teaching your little brother that he can’t just do the dishes and be done, he has to clean up the food crumbs left in the sink too. Apparently he did not know how to do this and I had to show him

Also he was about to go upstairs before I reminded him to also throw away his fast food boxes (we ate fast food today) and clean up on the table

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (14) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: car sex; riding, doggy, hair pulling, ass slapping, spitting, choking, fingering, and blowjob. dirty talk; daddy kink, bitch/cockslut, etc... the vibes yk?

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

opening the door, your eyes light up at the sight of your visitor.

"eomma, you're early! come in, come in! didn’t jungkook pick you up? where is he?”

jungkook's mom laughs, pulling you in a hug. she sways you back and forth and pats your back.

“he’s parking the car, sweetie.”

when she pulls away, she greets zion. excited, zion cheers at the sight of his grandma. he bounces on your hips, leaning forward for you to pass him to her.. jungkook's mom takes him.

ushering her inside, you bend over and place slippers for her. she steps into them as you bombard her with more questions. "how are you? i thought abeoji was babysitting with you tonight? where is he? and… oh my goodness! is this the blouse i got you?”

"yes, it is! you’re right… the colour suits my completion well.” she does a little twirl, showcasing her outfit.

“so cute! very demure!”

snickering, she answers the rest of your questions. “oh, you know your abeoji… he's coming! he went to play golf... of course..." pausing, she looks around your home and sighs. "did you clean again? you don't have to do that, remember? i don't mind helping when i come over! you're so busy, it's not good to overwork. if i check your fridge, will the side dishes i made for you be empty or still full? because i brought more—"

"eomma..."

"it's just side dishes!" she glances to the side, cueing in jungkook to enter in with three bags filled of food. “… maybe 3-5 main dishes too…”

you gasp. "that's too much!"

"yah!" she hisses. pointing at you and jungkook, she makes her claims. “you need to eat more and this one eats 3 times more than you... i would know. i fed him every day and lost so much money—"

"love you too, eomma." jungkook mutters, placing the bags on the kitchen island.

you roll your eyes as he immediately comes over to you, slipping his arms around your waist and greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. then, he makes a kissy face at zion. zion sticks his tongue out at him. jungkook laughs.

"hi," jungkook says softly, tilting his face to see you.

"hi," you reply with the same gentleness, mimicking his headtilt. “you left early this morning… where’d you go?”

“car appointment.”

“oil change?” you ask. jungkook opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by your son’s excitement.

"hi everyone!" zion squeals, wanting to feel included. “halmeoni, do you see that? mama and dada are married. they love each other!"

jungkook's mom laughs while your eyes widen. feeling your embarrassment, jungkook clears his throat. the air feels awfully thin.

"have you eaten, honey? we can eat a bit here and then bring some dishes for the party." jungkook suggests.

you nod. "i fed zion but haven't eaten myself."

"you need to eat," he frowns. "don't just feed our son. eat too."

"i will," you smile. "eomma, did you make my favourite?"

she gives you an offended look.

"yah, ___... how old do you think i am? i'm not at the age where i forget just anything... of course i made your favourite! i made 3 tubs worth of it! i also added perilla leaves."

you break away from jungkook and hug his mom. you squeeze her tight, causing zion to squirm. "you're the best! i want to be born as your daughter in my next life."

she giggles at your affection. with a teasing tone, she not-so-whispers into your ear; "marry my son soon, okay? so you can be my daughter in this life."

pulling away, you pout at her.

"if i marry your son will you stop nagging me to eat more?"

"marry him first and find out."

completely shocked by her playfulness, jungkook bursts out laughing. before you can respond, he grabs your hand and drags you to the kitchen area. sitting you down at a countertop chair, he places a plate in front of you and begins to unpack the food. his mom moves to the livingroom and sets zion down with his blocks. together, they begin to play and sing.

by the time you pay attention to jungkook, you realize he already fixed you a plate.

"this is too much food."

"shut up," he chuckles, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ears. "just eat."

rolling your eyes, you pick up your chopsticks and reach for the perilla leaves. struggling to peel them apart, jungkook picks up a pair of chopsticks and helps you peel them. when you get a piece, you thank him and begin to eat.

"the guys are excited to see you again."

in between chews, you snicker at him. "i can't believe they're throwing a good riddance party for yoongi."

jungkook blows air out of his cheeks and sighs. "i can. i literally had to keep one eye open at night because of that guy."

"cos i think he's hot?"

"cos he also thinks you're hot. which... he's not wrong."

"jealous?"

"always."

"how come it's cute on you but scary when it's me?" you pout. "you always complain about that... it can't be true, right? isn't it hot when i'm jealous?"

jungkook shakes his head. "fuck no. i fear for my life. truly."

"liar," you snort.

"i let pia go. i'm looking for a male assistant... i have interviews lined up for next week," jungkook admits. "and it wasn't fully because of you... she was chill and all but definitely spent too much time flirting with jaehyun. distracted him from working, always came in a little late, and still would get my coffee wrong."

"jaehyun's cute!" you admire. “did he ask her out?"

"jealous?"

"always."

"not funny," he warns you. "i'm already enemies with nam joon and you joking about yoongi keeps me on my toes.”

furrowing your eyebrows at him, you tease; "stay on your toes then.”

jungkook makes a face at you before taking his chopsticks and shoving another perilla leaf in your mouth.

"eat up," he hisses. "you're gonna need the energy for all the making up to me you’ll have to do later if you keep pissing me off."

after dinner, you quickly get ready and head out with jungkook. kissing zion goodbye, you also let jungkook's mom know you left a gift bag of skincare in zion's room for her. she tells you you're too much and you tell her it's nothing. then, she's pushing you out the door and telling you guys not to come home.

walking to the car, you notice jungkook takes out a different set of keys. then, a different car beeps and you turn your head to it. jungkook walks forward and then opens the car door for you.

"w-what's this?" you ask, eyes glowing. "was this your car appointment? did you seriously buy a new audi? is this the q7? shit... honey, your model isn't even old—"

"just get in."

you glare at him. "rude."

"please."

“better.”

exchanging nose scrunches, you get in the car. sitting down, he bends inside and buckles your seatbelt. as he pulls out, he sneaks a kiss on your lips. you laugh at his quickness.

moments later, he joins you inside. settling into the drivers seat, he starts the engine. he buckles his seatbelt and begins to drive. suddenly, music begins to play. moments later, he joins you inside. settling into the driver's seat, he starts the engine. he buckles his seatbelt and begins to drive. suddenly, music begins to play.

…

i, i hear the whispers in your eyes...

i'll make you wanna think twice.

you'll find that you were never not mine—

you're mine.

i can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move...

push the reset button, we're becoming something new—

say you got somebody, i'll say, "i got someone too"

—even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you...

you turn your head at jungkook and glare at him.

"seriously?"

"whoops?" he acts dumb. "is it a crime to listen to taylor swift?"

you fight the urge to roll your eyes and give him attitude. “no.. the song itself just seems perfectly timed..." you accuse him. he shrugs and takes the hit. "you tryna tell me something?"

"yeah," he says, stopping at a red light.

"really? what is it?"

"this car is yours."

you blink.

"what?"

"what do you mean what? honey, you wanna pay for zion's daycare? fine. i pay for this car. your car." jungkook states with no room for argument.

in disbelief, you open your mouth to say something. anything! truly, this is absurd! daycare bills are nothing compared to a new car—

"you've been driving the same car since before law school. no, it's not broken. no, it's not old... but it's also not what you deserve. you don't want my help paying for zion's daycare bills? fine. so be it. i don't want your help paying for this car."

"jungkook—"

"just say thank you," he pleads, placing his hand on your thigh. the light turns green, and he drives. "i showed it to your dad already. he approved it and even went on a test drive. my mom rode in it today when i picked her up. everyone knows about the car but for you so do me a favour and don't embarrass me by not accepting it."

"it's too much—"

"you're the mother of my child and love of my life," he huffs. "i'll never be able to repay you for that."

you sink into your seat. truly, this is too much. it's not like you needed a new car either! but wow... he's just... too good to you.

"jungkook..."

fully prepared for your reaction, jungkook is quick to make a suggestion. "awh, if you're really thankful... just suck my dick or something—"

"jungkook!"

he chuckles and squeezes your thigh. "come on, mama. it's been a hot minute... haven't fucked in a few weeks. i love sleeping next to you and zion but it would be nice to wake up with my cock in your mouth."

"do you wanna?" you sit up, mood bright and ready. "pull over."

he laughs and wiggles his finger at you.

"we haven't even sat in this car for 20 minutes and you already wanna fuck in the back seats? thankful much?" jungkook blurts.

you huff. "i don't even know how to say thank you. it doesn't feel like it's enough... but thank you, jungkook... for everything."

jungkook shrugs, as if buying you a whole ass new audi isn't a big deal. bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses them.

"you love me," he reminds you. "that's enough."

as expected, the boys try to steal you from jungkook the minute you arrive.

"it's been too long!" jimin cries, poking your sides.

taehyung joins in and aims for your underarm. "who gives a fuck if you're a lawyer. big whoop! we have plans on suing you for never showing up to our events."

you laugh and hide behind jungkook.

"yah! it's hard doing it all," you flip your hair at them. "you try being a mom, a lawyer, and—oh my god! yoongi?"

like a scene from a movie, your friends part for him. yoongi laughs as you rush into his arms and hug him.

"isn't this your good riddance party?" you ask, shocked that he's here.

yoongi sighs. "she dumped me."

"you're joking..." you gasp, clueless and a little angry. "w-what happened?"

yoongi lets you go and greets jungkook with a hug as well. jungkook pats his back and then pulls away. like glue, jungkook shifts and sticks to you. you lean against him and guide his arms to wrap around you.

"to be honest.. we were having issues before i flew there. she freaked out and didn't even bother showing up at the airport. i booked a return flight and gave up fighting for her... it's been—what?” yoongi pauses and gathers his thoughts. “a week? i don't know. i just wish she told me where her head was at before i packed up my shit and quit my job." yoongi laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "this is technically still a good riddance party... good riddance to her."

you pout at him, hating the position he's in. it's so shitty. who treats someone like that? you don't know much about his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—but everything you did know about her was all good... but life is like that, isn't it? people let you down and turn into something completely different.

it's times like these when you're thankful to have jungkook. the dating pool these days is a nightmare.

"you quit your job? i thought they allowed you to do remote?" jungkook asks, eyebrows knit together.

"they considered it... but didn't go through with it. it's fine... i've been wanting to change things up anyway," yoongi insists. "aside from that... i moved in with jin and told the people subletting my condo that they could stay for 6 months."

jungkook sighs. "well... if you need a job asap, i'm looking for an assistant. it's yours if you want it. i won't even boss you around that much—"

"don't you already have one?"

you raise a brow. "the pretty one?"

yoongi's eyes shake.

"oh," yoongi connects. "i get it. yeah, sure. thanks jungkook. i'll take it for now and get searching for a new job soon. i can start next week.”

"there's no rush," jungkook ensures yoongi. "take the job and keep it for as long as you need."

yoongi nods and thanks jungkook. you share a look with yoongi and sigh.

"are you okay?" you ask yoongi. suddenly, you feel jungkook kiss your shoulder. jungkook then excuses himself to give you and yoongi time to talk. you didn't realize until now that everyone dispersed to their own conversations. jin, jimin, and hoseok were in the kitchen while taehyung and jungkook began to play games on the ps5.

moving closer to you, yoongi shrugs.

"am i supposed to be? i wanted to marry her."

for some reason, yoongi's words strike you. it was one thing to see the pain in his eyes and feel it in the way his words came out of his mouth; it was another to remember jungkook.

you wonder what he said to the guys when you broke up with him.

... that's enough to need a shot or two.

“are you okay?”

you nod. “yeah. took a vacation leave from work for a week to reset… asked for less intense cases and been trying harder in balancing the work-life stuff. it’s been better—“

“no, like.. are you okay?” he repeats. “like… you’re not throwing up anymore, right? and your mood swings? post partum still a bitch?”

“i’ve been doing okay,” you tell him. “i have a session soon… i’ll probably get reassessed and talk about things.”

yoongi smiles. “things like… you and jungkook?”

“yeah.”

he clears his throat.

"you know… it’s really nice to see you two together again," yoongi admits. "if there's one good thing that came out of all of this shit it's seeing you guys happier."

you blink at him.

"no," you stop him. "you can't be going through this huge heartbreak and turn this into a lesson for me. come on, yoongi! nothing's changed," you lie. "we're still broken up."

yoongi groans at your answer. "are lawyers always defensive or is that just a personality trait of yours?"

"both," you play along. "but seriously... we're still broken up. i guess things are... unfolding and going well... but—"

"it's not your fault, you know?" yoongi interrupts you. "he doesn't blame you for any of it either. no one does. so take your time and avoid it all you want—but he's gonna get you back."

your gaze softens, touched by his words. for the first time in a while, you let your guard down.

"you think so?"

"i know so."

by 11pm, more people arrived and took over the living room.

yoongi is re-explaining his situation to a crowd of friends. jimin and taehyung have started a karaoke competition, while jin and hoseok ran around filling everyone's cups with more alcohol. jungkook spent some time catching up with friends, while you gossip with the girlies.

then, your eyes meet jungkook's.

across the room, he bites his bottom lip and nods towards jin's bedroom. you know that signal too well.

excusing yourself from the conversation, you and jungkook slip your way through the party. fingertips brushing, jungkook's heart races when you lace your fingers with his and guide him inside jin's bedroom.

as he shuts the door behind you, your lips crash into his the moment he turns. kissing you back, he cups your cheeks with the palm of his hand.

"forgot you have an exhibition kink," you murmur against his lips. he bites your bottom lip and groans.

"i do not."

"yeah?" you challenge. "remember when you fingered me during your company's christmas dinner?"

"you wore stockings," he cries. "wanted to rip them. duh."

"that literally makes no sense—“

"who fucking cares? you let me finger you. you were into it too." he growls.

“never said i wasn’t.”

jungkook sneers, “holy fuck, can we please go home? i'm have no more social energy and only want to be with you."

you pull away and fix his hair. you watch the way his eyes soften as he looks into yours.

"leaving a party at 11pm is kinda lame though.. we're not that old." you chide. though, you wouldn't mind going home either. "... should we though? should we leave?"

jungkook nods, kissing you again. "can we have sex?"

you laugh against the kiss and pull away. pinching his cheeks, you drag your thumb across his bottom lip.

"yeah, we can have sex. wanna see how much space my car has?" you flirt.

earning a smile from jungkook, he tilts his head at you.

"your car?"

"my car," you repeat with a prideful tone. "it's pretty cool... newest model. my baby daddy bought it for me. it's an audi though, so it gives fuckboy vibes."

jungkook chuckles. "oh? is your baby daddy a fuckboy? yikes... is he at least hot?"

"kinda."

"kinda? wow. if you hate him, just say so."

"hate him?" you gasp. "i love him... gonna marry him one day."

he doesn't know what it is.

maybe it's the 5 shots you downed.

maybe it's simply the truth.

one thing's for sure; jungkook's heart has never skipped a beat that fast before.

sneaking out of the party was easy.

receiving the texts and calls was not. everyone was blowing up your and jungkook's phone, annoyed and disappointed you two left without saying goodbye (even though doing so would completely backfire). truth be told, you two didn't say goodbye because it you two would have been taken hostage. it would've been impossible to escape.

besides, you two prefer it like this.

just you two.

jungkook parked outside his place. the led lights are on in the car and the music is turned down. it's just enough to fill the space, but the true music to his ears are your moans.

in the backseat, jungkook sits with his legs planted on the floor. his pants pool around his ankles while his shirt is thrown to the front seat. his dick is out and your dress is scrunched up to your stomach. you're on top of him, grinding against his thick cock. the top part of your dress is pushed down to your stomach too, leaving jungkook in disbelief. he's so lucky to be this close to you. this view... is mesmerizing.

your breasts bounce so pretty at him. he can't help but dig his face in between them. you giggle, feeling how ticklish his features are against your breasts.

"t-that tickles!" you squirm, grabbing a fist full of his hair and pulling him away. "kiss me or something."

he chuckles but does as you request. stretching his neck, he kisses you slowly and surely. he takes his time, exploring your mouth and sucking on your tongue. you can't help but let out a whimpering moan as he kisses you so good; you're taken by surprise when he slips his cock inside you.

"m-mhmm," you moan. "so good. love your fat cock so much."

jungkook smirks. "dirty talk? really?"

"why not?"

"you're that level of horny?"

"what level is this?"

you hold on to his biceps and bounce hard. your eyebrows furrow and your lips part ever so slightly at the sudden burn in between your legs. it feels so good to fuck him like this. the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs makes this so much more lewd. you continue to bounce as jungkook throws his head back from the pleasure. quickening your tempo, you feel his dick rise even more inside you.

"h-holy shit," you cry, holding onto his biceps even tighter. trying your best to stabilize yourself, you wrap yourself around him. then, you do the only logical thing: whine for help. "jungkook, fuck me… please!”

jungkook wastes no time. he places both his hands on your ass, helping you hold your position. he then leans back and gets into it.

oh, he gets fucking into it.

jungkook begins to drill his hard cock into you. you feel your hole stretch from the friction. you also feel yourself dripping against him. the sound of your liquids smacking against skin arouses you even more. jungkook fucks you, completely disregarding what you can and can't take. he fucks you like it's a lesson.

as you whimper and give out on the position, you put your weight down and sit on him. he slowly and gently continues to thrust inside you. you rest your forehead against his shoulder blade and let out a tired laugh.

"doggy?" you pitch, out of breath.

jungkook lets out an airy laugh but agrees.

sweaty, sticky, and messy; you two switch positions. jungkook shifts towards the corner, allowing you to angle your body diagonally. you lean against the passenger seat, holding it for stability. jungkook kneels, sliding himself back inside you. his hands are on your waist as he begins to thrust in and out.

jungkook has always admired you ass. god truly took his time creating you. it's honestly his favourite feature about you... aside from your boobs, eyes, lips, legs, waist.... okay. fine. he loves it all.

he loves all of you.

you love all of him too... from his tattoos to the way his facial expression changes with every slight touch... it's too good.

not to mention his dick hits all the spots. you feel him play with your pussy, sneaking a hand underneath and in between your folds. you moan at the sensation and feel yourself begin to pound more and more inside of you. out of nowhere, he pinches your clit and you yelp.

suddenly, he grabs your hair and pulls it. the tug sends your head to go back. you bite your lip from the rush.

"you like that, mama? you like having your hair pulled and me fucking you like a little bitch?" jungkook hisses. "such a fucking freak... wanting to fuck in this car? i bought it for you to ride in, not ride me in."

you cry, "needed your cock so bad, daddy."

"you're daddy's little bitch, aren't you?" he slaps your ass. "say it, baby. say you're my bitch."

he slaps your ass again.

you hiss at the tingle but also can't help but wish for more. maybe he heard you because he slaps you for the third time before thrusting himself deeper.

god, he's so big.

like seriously... he's so fucking big! you swear you can feel him in your guts.

"i'm your little bitch," you sob. "f-fuck, daddy... you're so big. always so big for me. biggest fucking cock in the world, o-oh my god. it's for me, right? only for me?"

jungkook moans in response.

"is my pussy tight enough for this massive fucking cock? am i taking you in well? like a good girl? i'm good, right? you like the way i bounced on your hard cock? feel it in my guts... g-god, you feel so fucking good! i'm losing m-my goddamn mind, daddy... you make me f-feel so good... d-daddy, do i make you feel good?"

jungkook stays silent, trying to process your words.

with a whiney tone, you call for him; "daddy?"

"shut up."

he gulps, gripping your hair tighter. tugging it more, he moves closer to your face. swirling his saliva in his mouth, he spits on your face.

"what do you say?"

"thank you, daddy!" you lick your lips, getting a bit of his spit. jungkook lets go of your hair and cups your jaw with his hand. he squishes your lips together and kisses them. you kiss him back and pull away. giggling, he licks your lips and asks you to open up. doing so, he spits into your mouth.

you swallow.

he grins.

"daddy's little bitch is such a good girl... fuck, ___. you take me in so good. good job, honey. so proud of you."

then, his hand moves from your jaw to your neck. you shut your eyes, feeling the way his thrusts speed up but lower in intensity. losing yourself to the feeling of pleasure, jungkook adds pressure to his hold on your neck. you feel your throat tighten as he continues to fuck you.

he's never choked you. you've asked him once or twice, but he refused because he didn't wanna be rough on you like that. guess tonight is different... tonight, he fucks you rough and sloppy.

yet, the second you let out a small cough, jungkook lets go of your neck entirely. he immediately leans over and kisses it. you softly laugh at his kisses and hum;

“i’m okay, honey. it felt good."

“you sure? love you.”

“mhm… love you too—“

without warning, he pulls out and takes a seat. he grabs you buy the hips and gets you to sit in between his legs. he parts yours and places his fingers inside you.

you moan, throwing your head back. jungkook kisses the top of your head as he plays with your precious pussy. he fingers you for a good 5 minutes, your legs shake and your chest feels like it’s going to explode because of how fast your heart is racing. then suddenly—

"a-ahh, f-fuck!"

you cum.

the minute you do so, jungkook slaps your pussy and brings his fingers to his mouth. he sucks on them, tasting you.

you pant and attempt to catch your breath as much as you can. the new car smell is completely gone by now. the car smells of sweat and sex... iconic of you two, honestly.

after a few moments of silence and self-composing, you squish yourself between the seats and jungkook's legs. you take his half-erected dick and shove it inside your mouth.

his cock is huge.

(oversaid? yes. downplaying? absolutely not!)

it fills up your entire mouth and you struggle to get to the base. jungkook helps you, pushing your head deeper. as you gag, he holds you still.

"that's fucking right, honey. choke on my fucking cock like the cockslut you are... m-mhmm, y-yeah," he moans, throwing his head back. he lets go of you, letting you to suck him dry.

you bob your head, dragging your tongue around his length. it's veiny and so angry. the tip practically pulsates at you. you spit on it and rub your thumb across it. jungkook hisses at the touch and you kiss it to make him feel some type of way.

“this what you wanted, right? my cock in your fucking mouth this like this? god, if you could see yourself so full of me… fucking beautiful, baby. the prettiest woman in this entire world has my fat cock in her mouth.” jungkook praises you, doing his best to fight the urge of rolling his lips and fucking your face.

thankfully, he succeeds and lets you do your thing. sucking his dick, jungkook doesn't last too long. his breathing turns heavy and he begins to squirm in his seat. pulling his cock out of your mouth, you jerk him off against your face. jungkook watches as you leave your tongue out.

at the sight, he cums and spills himself all over your face.

his cum splatters and you lick his tip. jungkook laughs and pulls his dick out of your mouth. he tilts your chin and meets your lips with his.

he kisses you, losing his breath even more.

but it didn't matter.

you're his air.

when the morning comes, you wake up to the smell of coffee.

jungkook crawls back into bed with you. he tangles his body with yours. you let out a sleepy laugh when he reaches under your shirt and feels for your boobs. holding him close, he murmurs against your skin;

"want some coffee?"

"sure," you say. "i miss coffee."

[chaoticace2005]

List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:

1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.

2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.

3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.

4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.

5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.

6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”

7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s

8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.

9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt

10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.

11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.

12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.

13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)

14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.

15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.

16. Honeymoon with his cane.

17. Fell into a coma

18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.

19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.

20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.

21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.

22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.

23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.

24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.

25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.

26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.

27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.

28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.

29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.

30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.

31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments

32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.

33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.

34. Went on a seven year long bender.

35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[jgracie]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the way they love in which i share some little things about being in a relationship with the hoo boys

masterlist | rules

warnings none!

percy ⊹ embarrassing yourself so the other isnt embarrassed alone. making sure you aren't overworking yourself. being compared to an old married couple. drawing on the other's schoolbooks when they aren't looking. everyone can see it but the two of you. insisting whatever he baked is good even though its burnt and probably bad for you. always buying two of everything. endearing nicknames. spending more time at his place than your own. getting random “i thought of you” texts followed by an image only the two of you would understand.

jason ⊹ tucking you in bed after a long night. memorising your skincare routine to a t just in case theres a day youre too lazy to do it. lovingly teaching you concepts you dont understand. whispered confessions late at night. promise rings. spraying your perfume on his things so he can have something to comfort him when he misses you. scrapbooks of your lives as teens for your kids to flip through when you're older. asking him to sleep in just one more hour. painting your nails his favourite colour. princess treatment.

leo ⊹ taking care of the other when theyre ill and getting yourself sick in the process. keeping a mental note of all your likes and dislikes. acts of service acts of service acts of service. making random little gadgets just for the sake of making the other's life the tiniest bit easier. dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light. carving your initials with a heart around them on the trunk of a tree. spam texts. warm, feel good hugs. learning how to make dishes from your culture to remind you of home. messages in morse code.

frank ⊹ trusting the other more than you trust yourself. putting things on the top shelf just so he has an excuse to help you (and flaunt his height). mornings always spent together. giving the other the bigger half of whatever you're sharing. lighthearted competition. being proud of each other no matter what. physical touch. making eye contact from across a packed room. doing your hair better than you ever could. having movie marathons every night. knowing if you prefer gold or silver. watching all 146 tiktoks you send him in the span of an hour.

travis ⊹ incorporating the other's favourite music into your own playlists, no matter how different their taste is. shamelessly calling you "the wife". pictures of you in his wallet. pictures of you on his phone. pictures of you everywhere. arm tightly wrapped around your waist. piggyback rides. sleepovers. drawing constellations out of his freckles. your personal photographer and videographer. having his proposal planned from the age of 14. partners in crime. sweater weather by the neighbourhood.

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

--

💚

[temiizpalace]

Hi! Can I request for Jamil and Azul prompt 14?

-☀️ anon

☆┊A PICNIC, FOR JUST THE TWO OF US! (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: GOING ON A PICNIC WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND! MAYBE A CONFESSION IS IN ORDE— WAIT, WHY DID YOU BRING HIM?!

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy

NOTES: my favorite enemies get another request. awesome. thank you for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

a perfectly thought out plan.

azul had it all figured out. today will be the day he confesses to you. every small detail was planned and adjusted accordingly just so everything would run smoothly, he won’t mess up. sleepless nights went into this plot and for the love of the seven he won’t let them be in vain.

here’s how it’ll go in simple terms. first, he invites you to a small picnic by the beachside with his charm and persuasiveness. next, he escorts you like a gentleman and you both start having a lovely time. you’ll be impressed by his well cooked dishes and ask for the recipe. he calculated how likely that’ll be, and it’s pretty high considering he knows your favorite dishes. finally, asking for the recipe opens a window to his confession. he’ll ask you out on a cooking date, to which you’ll accept. oh yeah, it’s all smooth sailing from here.

just as he was about to look for you, the tweels were already a few steps ahead. “azul? you have a guest.” jade smiles, pushing you into the VIP lounge. “less of a guest and more of a hostage.” you grunt, obviously being forced here against your will. ouch. that lowers your mood by 8%! now there’s a chance you’ll reject his offer.. goodness.

“prefect, apologies for jade. i was going to look for you on my own, but..” he sighs, looking at the twin and signaling him to go outside. “if you’ll excuse me.” jade bows, shutting the door and waiting outside. “it’s fine, i know how they can be sometimes.” you laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “so, what’s up?”

this was it. okay, phase one here we go. “w-well you see,” azul stutters, internally cringing at his error. noooo.. he’s supposed to be charming! “i was wondering if you’d like to go on a picnic with me by the shore? i have a few dishes i’d like you to test, so..” he trails off, his cheeks tinted with a light pink. “picnic? that sounds fun!” you smile, making his heart flutter. focus.

“id love to go!” you accept, azul thanking the seven you can’t hear the wild screaming in his head. “splendid! i’ll see you later this afternoon.” he smiles, walking you out of the VIP lounge. “no rush, azul. i’ll see you then.” you waved back at him, the expression on your face leaving the words to hang at his mouth. he waves back slowly, shutting the door.

he flops onto the couch like a fish, burying his face into the pillows while aggressively kicking his feet. phase one is complete, yet he’s already so worked up! such a lovesick octopus. if he wasn’t so flustered, he could’ve heard the tweels giggling as they peeked through the crack of the door, photographing each second for future reference.

at last, the awaited moment has arrived. azul smoothens out the checkered blanket laid onto the sand, ensuring no wrinkles for maximum comfort. he readjusts the picnic basket to the perfect angle, satisfied with the setting he created. the tides were high, but not high enough to wash you two away. the weather was exactly as he predicted, boosting his confidence to further heights.

the excitement he experienced reached record highs, impatiently waiting for your arrival. he has to memorize this entire day, or he’ll regret it. can’t wait to write about it in his diary life record book later. he hears footsteps walk amongst the sand, whipping his head around to face its direction.

you were finally here! thank the seven! he was worried you forgot—huh. “azul! sorry for being late. i ran into jamil a little earlier and asked him to join us.” you happily state, so blissfully unaware of the spot the poor octomer was now put in. “azul.” jamil mutters, almost disgustedly. “jamil.. what a pleasant surprise this is.” azul responds, gritting his teeth.

nooooo.. any other day for this would’ve been great! why on his confession day? seriously?! “why, what inclined you to join us on our picnic this fine afternoon? shouldn’t you be babysit—ah, tending to kalim?” azul raised his brow, a small frown hidden on his face. “i was given permission to join the prefect during lunches. besides, seeing as they were going to meet you alone, i must ensure they don’t get themselves wrapped up in some shady deal.” jamil sighs, examining the setup azul had.

“awh, cmon. azul isn’t like that all the time, right?” you laugh, making both boys hearts sing for joy. “i can assure you i thought nothing of the sort! can’t a man enjoy lunch with a friend of theirs?” azul states dramatically, a false look of sadness on his face. “and i apologize, but i have not prepped enough food for 3, so i believe jamil must join us on the next picnic.” he shakes his head, trying to see if jamil gets the hint.

“don’t worry about me, i have prepped my own lunch.” jamil smirks, holding up a small bag. “it smells pretty good.. enough chatting let’s eat.” you grin, gingerly taking a seat onto the blanket and grabbing your utensils. jamil took a spot right next to you, a smug look on his face as he glares at the boy opposite of him. “wonderful..”

“azul! this is amazing! how did you manage to get the flavors like that?” you exclaim, already grabbing seconds. azul smiles triumphantly as you feasted like a king. he knew his cooking was good, and your compliments feed his ego. “ive taken a careful study at many recipes, and just so happened to enjoy this combination the most! i hope it is to your liking.”

jamil pouts as he eats his dish in silence, switching between glaring daggers at azul and looking at you with soft tenderness in his eyes. “hm? jamil, that looks pretty good. did you make that?” you ask, pointing to the dish in his hands. “ah, yes. a traditional dish from the scalding sands, a classic. care to try some?” he asks nonchalantly, holding his spoon up to your lips. “id love to!”

you take a bite of the food resting in the spoon, the taste catching you off guard. speechless. you were left speechless. “jamil, you genius in the kitchen.” you mutter, the flavors exploding in your mouth. he looks to azul, an tinge of annoyance in his gaze. such a motivational boost. “these were leftovers from last nights party. i can drop some off at ramshackle later if you’d like.” jamil offers, in which you eagerly accept. “really?! that’d be great! grim will be thrilled!”

eugh. azul hates this. he feels like a third wheel to his own date. so not fair. he prepped everything! your focus should be him! this is completely off script to what he had initially planned. date officially ruined. is this how jamil felt during his overblot too? horrible. just downright wretched. “azul, can i have the recipe to the dish you made? id like to try cooking it sometime.” you ask, snapping him from his daze. wait. this question.. this was something he predicted. okay, he’s got this. company or not, it’s showtime.

“why of course,” he replies happily, finding your joyful expression so attractive. “actually, i have a proposition. how about we cook this dish together, hm? that way, i can be of assistance and can ensure you positive results!” he smiles, offering you a “subtle” deal. “that sounds super fun! we should do that!” you accept, nodding your head vigorously.

“jamil, you can join us! you can show me how to make this dish if you do!” jamil shoots his head upwards at your offer, establishing his options before agreeing. “hmm.. we can use scarabia’s kirchen.. very well. i can make preparations right away.” he smiles, much to azul’s dismay. you’ve gotta be joking.

“this is gonna be so fun!” you chime, clapping your hands together. “lots.” azul adds sarcastically, moping as he poked at his meal. not again. he can’t believe he’s getting denied from his crush by a sea snake.

“try keeping up azul.” jamil whispers as they were packing up the picnicking stuff, his anger increasing substantially. just you wait, jamil. that prefect is his.

A/N: ladies ladies please one at a time (me to jamil and azul)

date published: 9/4/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[justwritedreams]

Welcome to the kingdom | Jeno

Chapter Fourteen: Do you think it's funny now?

Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au!

Word count: 4407

Genre: smut

Author: maari

Warnings: dirty talk, orgasm denial, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, cum play (i think), they're both horny what can i say lol mentions of loss of virginity and alcohol MDI!!! THIS IS A +18 STORY

Note: AHEM i suck with +18 warnings so just enjoy this filthy dirty chapter

Summary: When the game gets interesting, there is nothing that can be denied. Not even the truth.

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⪢ NCT Masterlist

Taglist: @floweronacloud, @cookydream, @travelleratheart101, @ilvaussie, @tyongf-sunflower99, @n0hyuck @jihoonismydad @ikayyyyyy (can’t tag you honey 😞), @everloving-avenue , @moonchele , @markspossibilities @mings-cafe @waltermitty97 @madaboutjunmyeon @actually-vl @neomooniez @pvppyhao @yyangj3lly

Y/N and Jeno had been quiet since then, she timidly told him she was going to take a shower but without looking him in the eyes, maybe because her cum was running down her leg as soon as she got out of bed.

Jeno took the time to take a deep breath, it wasn't exactly how he wanted to cum but it had been sexy, he couldn't wait for the rest of the honeymoon.

So he took the opportunity to cook something for them to eat.

They were both weak, they needed to replenish their energy.

The atmosphere between them was so quiet and strange that it wasn't something they would be able to get used to, especially because given their chemistry sitting down and talking about what had happened, it wouldn't happen anytime soon.

The princess cursed even the eighth generation of the person who had packed her suitcase, although the chalet was warm because of the fireplace having only silk nightgowns to sleep in was a bit too much. 

She didn't want to seem like she was teasing Jeno but the red nightgown was bold enough for that, that was one of the reasons she had tied up the robe.

If her legs were still weak from what had happened, she didn't even want to imagine what Jeno would do when he saw her dressed like that. 

Of course, it took her longer than it should have for that to happen. 

She left the bathroom hugging her own body. Jeno's attentive eyes followed her until she passed in front of the kitchen counter. 

She intended to go to the living room and sit as close to the fireplace as possible, if the food he had made didn't smell so nice. 

Enough to make her confused. 

"Since when do you know how to cook?" she asked quietly after a long time analyzing the two dishes. 

"I think since I was 14." He answered and wiped his hands on the dishcloth that was over his shoulder. The princess looked at him curiously and he laughed. "When you're not the direct heir to the throne, you need to find something to do in the castle." 

"And you chose to cook?" she asked, a little surprised. 

"It was that or become a guinea pig for what Haechan called food." Jeno rolled his eyes just remembering his brother's cooking and took the dishcloth off his shoulder.

He was the best of the brothers for that task. And in archery. And in swords.

Even better than the King. 

Y/N didn't say anything but her expression showed how impressed she was mainly because Jeno seemed to have made an exquisite dish with the few ingredients they had there. 

"If you like it, you can try the dessert later." he said and Y/N's stomach growled loudly at the same time making him laugh softly as she agreed. 

The two decided to eat sitting in front of the fireplace in a terrible silence, the princess admired in amazement how talented Jeno was at cooking while he watched her attentively, wanting to know why she had covered herself completely with the robe preventing him from seeing even a glimpse of what she was hiding underneath. 

It couldn't be because of shyness. 

Jeno gently extended his hand to take her plate which although she found it strange, she handed it to him. 

"Would you like some wine?" he asked quietly. 

Y/N looked at him immediately, ready to refuse the offer, not because that night wasn't conducive to a good wine but because the drink affected her senses more than it should. 

She wasn't weak, but she was extremely sly. 

Jeno's eyes didn't look away from hers, he didn't want to convince her if it wasn't what she wanted but maybe a little alcohol would remove that curtain of inhibition that had taken over her. 

"I'd rather stay sober tonight," she replied in the same tone and Jeno agreed, disappearing for a few minutes. 

She watched him, surprised that he hadn't argued and tried to hide her expression by turning her face when he came back with a single glass of wine, sitting in the same place as before. 

The princess didn't even need to look at him to know that he had a question on the tip of his tongue, ready to break that silence that was, to say the least, awkward. 

Jeno moved his fingers around the glass hurriedly, even as he drank, he seemed to get even more anxious with each sip. 

“If you don’t want to choke on the question, you can ask it.” She said without turning her face. 

Jeno blinked in shock a few times before swallowing his wine once more. 

“Why does this place make you so melancholic?” 

The princess felt her entire body stiffen and looked at him as she clenched her jaw so as not to make it too obvious that he was right. He was cunning after all, but just the sad glint in her eyes was enough for Jeno. 

Deep down he could guess the answer.

“Memories.” She sighed and looked back at the fireplace. “Even if I wanted to forget them, they don’t go away so easily.” 

The prince waited for her to continue, but all that came next was silence and nervousness. He could identify the latter when he saw her playing with the red fabric of her robe. 

“Painful?” he asked fearfully and she smiled sideways, shaking her head. 

“No, far from it.” She replied before taking a deep breath. “They just seem wrong right now.” 

“Why?” he asked, curious about the answer but unsure if he even wanted to hear it.

Y/N looked at Jeno, firmly this time.

She would have to trust him, right? And he was the one asking...

“I never had the privilege that you and your brothers had to simply go somewhere else and live for a while away, so I needed to find a place within the kingdom to breathe. This has always been my escape route, my refuge. This is where I ran to when I felt lost, suffocated.” She replied, lost in her memories. “My first kiss was here.”

Jeno swallowed hard, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to lead.

“Your eyes say more than that.” He pointed out and she laughed, humorlessly.

“It seems you also know how to read between the lines.” She concluded and he raised an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t just kisses.”

She shook her head.

“I lost my virginity here too, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

Jeno drank the rest of the wine that went down dragging a lump in his throat, he didn’t want to make her defensive but apparently there was no way to escape.

Not even her reaction, much less the subject.

“Now I’m curious, you have a battalion of security guards behind you and I doubt you would tell them that you were coming here to…” he made exaggerated gestures with his hand instead of speaking the word, as if they hadn’t both come in front of each other a few hours ago.

Y/N tried to contain her nasal laugh in vain.

“It wasn’t planned, Jeno.” She interrupted him and sighed. “I had a meeting with my father and the duke at the hotel nearby, his father was also involved and the duke and I decided to walk a bit that day. It was a very complicated deal, we both had a headache. When we got to the dirt road it started to rain heavily and we needed to find shelter, since I knew the place I brought him here and well, I think you can imagine the rest.”

Jeno kept his serious pose from the moment he heard the word duke.

He imagined the scene and definitely didn’t want it.

“You said the duke, he’s the…”

“Hongjoong? Yeah.” She concluded the sentence with a bit of tension in her voice.

It wasn't the kind of subject she imagined talking to Jeno about on their honeymoon after they had touched themselves in front of each other.

But in a way she was relieved. 

Keeping it all to herself had been suffocating her since the moment she found out that this would be where she would spend her days as a newlywed with Jeno. 

Although Jeno had some suspicions due to the way the two looked at each other at the wedding party, everything seemed to fit perfectly. 

The princess may have been in love with his brother Mark but it was Hongjoong who was marked in her heart, in her memories. In that chalet. 

It was his hands that she remembered, it was his kisses that were embedded in her skin. 

It was his name that she had moaned in that fucking chalet. 

"Are you mad?" the princess asked as she saw him close his fingers against the glass, his eyes fixed on the fireplace.

Jeno clenched his jaw, feeling his blood boil. 

"No." he answered through gritted teeth.

“So why does it seem like you’re going to break the glass with just your hand?” It seemed like an innocent question from the princess and although that was the intention, all it did was draw Jeno’s attention to herself. 

He was staring at her with a fire that wasn’t a reflection of the fireplace.

“Because I’m controlling myself so as not to destroy every memory you have of him in this chalet.” He answered softly and slowly, making the princess’s neck shiver.

It wasn’t just words. It was a promise. 

“Of all the times he kissed your body.” Jeno placed the glass on the floor without taking his eyes off her. “Of all the times he looked at your body with desire while he took off your clothes.” Y/N didn’t have the strength to look away and Jeno started to get closer to her, making her swallow hard. “Of all the times he touched you to the point of making you shiver.” He brought his hand to Y/N’s wrist and even wearing the robe she couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down her body when his fingers went up her arm. “Of all the times he’s been inside you.” 

The princess blinked non-stop as her belly shivered, her defenses had all fallen with Jeno’s voice alone and she tried her best not to brush her thighs but it was a practically impossible task, especially because of the way Jeno was looking at her. 

“It’s not a very fair competition.” She said in a whisper and regretted it at the same time because it sounded like a provocation and it wasn’t. 

Jeno smiled mischievously and in a quick movement, pulled her onto his lap and got up from the floor. The princess immediately put her hands on Jeno’s shoulders while his went straight to her ass, his warm palms gripping her firmly through the fabric so thin it didn’t even seem to exist. 

He took her to the kitchen counter and sat her there, making her frown and almost moan at the sudden contact against the cold marble. 

“It’s not a competition when we already know who the winner is.” he countered and his skillful hands went to the tie that held her robe together, undoing it.

Jeno's eyes ran over the princess's body, more specifically by the exposed skin on both sides of her waist thanks to the nightgown that left little to the imagination.

“What are you- doing?” she stuttered and involuntarily contracted her leg muscles when Jeno’s hands shamelessly roamed her thighs.

“Did he touch you here? On this counter?” he questioned and his fingers found her panties.

Y/N moaned loudly when his fingers actually found her wet and pulsating flesh. She wasn’t wearing panties on purpose and Jeno liked that, widening his smile as he touched her so slowly that it bordered on torture.

“Answer me, princess. Or else I’ll pull away.” He removed his fingers and she felt a painful cold.

“Yes, it was here.” She sounded pathetic and horny.

“Okay.”

Jeno pulled away completely and Y/N looked at him in shock, before she could even complain he was already kneeling in front of her and it was enough for her eyes to widen. 

The air in her lungs escaped when his hands lifted the fabric of her nightgown to her navel, giving him a more than privileged view.

But he was in no hurry and he didn't need to.

Seeing the princess's body give in to his touch was enough and they both got excited with what came next. Jeno distributed wet and slow kisses from the princess's knee to her groin, making her breathe heavily as her torso went back of its own accord.

Jeno grabbed her thighs, using one hand to spread her labia to blow air lightly, Y/N dragged her nails against the marble countertop and closed her eyes feeling her entire body combust as her flesh started to get wet.

A moan escaped her mouth when Jeno kissed her intimately but softly, he didn't seem the least bit concerned about getting straight to the point.

Quite the opposite, he distributed kisses as if that were Y/N's mouth and she didn't even need to have his lips against hers to be sure that he was an expert. 

He wasn't even eating her the way her belly asked for and she was already there, writhing all over, every pore of her body standing on end. 

The princess was sure that her mouth wouldn't stop moaning if she looked at Jeno kneeling in front of her with his head between her legs, that's why she was keeping her eyes closed, but in fact that happened when Jeno used his tongue. 

At first, he licked her so slowly that she pathetically wiggled her hips against his face, he didn't let a single inch of her pussy go untouched by his tongue. 

Then the licks started to be more precise, making her not only moan but also bring both hands to his hair, squeezing his scalp with her nails. 

Jeno took that as encouragement and continued to minister at that rhythm that was too sensual for her to handle. 

He didn't look like a starving man who had come out of the desert, he actually looked like a man completely intoxicated by her taste. 

And it was true that the sound of his languid touch was driving them both crazy with pleasure.

Y/N felt the orgasm building in the tip of her belly, that shiver she knew so well threatened to get even stronger when Jeno stopped abruptly, making her open her eyes in shock and surprise.

She didn't even have the strength to curse him for stopping because Jeno was staring at her like a feline and the palm of his warm hand replaced his mouth, and the princess let out the air she had held while her heart seemed to beat heavily against her ribs.

It wasn't a long pause, Jeno calmed her down briefly to make sure she wouldn't cum and then his mouth returned to her pussy.

Y/N's moans seemed like a perfect symphony with the wet sound of Jeno's licks who didn't seem the least bit interested in ending that torture any time soon.

He repeated this several times, every time she seemed like she was going to cum he stopped to calm her down with his hand and then returned with his mouth to the place where he didn't want to stop playing with his tongue.

It wasn't just Y/N's belly that was contracting, it was her whole body. 

She didn't know how long he would continue in that denial, even though it was obvious from her pleas that she needed to cum.

When Jeno seemed satisfied with the desperate way she was saying please, not only did his lips work wonders but also his fingers.

At this point, the princess already had her thighs pressing both sides of Jeno's head against her pussy, she could barely control her body. It seemed like a shock wave was running through her veins.

Without any shame and without thinking about anything else, she came violently against his fingers and lips which didn't seem to be enough for Jeno since he didn't waste a single drop and licked her until her body stopped shaking.

Y/N could barely pull air into her lungs when Jeno stood up, her legs falling across the counter like jelly and of course he brought his fingers to his mouth to collect what was left of her orgasm. 

She wanted to hit him on the shoulder but could only smile weakly.

“Do you want to take another shower?” he asked mischievously and she rolled her eyes.

“If I could get up…” she let the sentence trail off and Jeno laughed, proud.

Was that why he had made that feast for her earlier? To make sure he would take away all the energy she had recovered?

Jeno extended his hand to help the princess up and although her legs were still weak, she managed to stay standing.

“I need to sleep.” she warned and Jeno just nodded silently, giving her space to go first.

Y/N felt Jeno’s palm against her ass and the slap made her jaw drop, holding the place that was now burning she turned to face him.

Jeno blinked like the good flirt he was and shrugged.

The princess didn’t argue that night. Because a good part of her had enjoyed it.

[...]

If someone had ever told Y/N that she would be cuddling with Jeno on her honeymoon, she would probably have laughed in the most sarcastic way possible.

But now it wasn't a joke, it was reality.

It was strange how they both had a great night's sleep even though they were sleeping next to each other.

Jeno wasn't the first to wake up, he woke up before the princess but there was something that was awake well before him. His dick.

Well, it was no wonder considering that Y/N's ass was right against his hip, hugging his dick in such a welcoming and warm way that he had no other option but to get erect.

Especially because that nightgown of hers was taking him out of his sanity.

He even considered pulling away before she yelled at him but when she moved around in bed, lazily rolling against his member, there was no strength in the world that would get him out of there.

The ragged breathing probably caught the princess's attention, who seemed slightly awake and when she realized that Jeno's arm was hugging her waist, she tried to move in bed to see if he was also awake.

But she was stopped by Jeno's hand that firmly grabbed her waist.

"Don't move." He pleaded in a whisper so close to Y/N's ear that she shivered.

"Why?" She asked in the same tone, without moving or even blinking.

"Don't make me explain so early."

Y/N frowned when she realized that there was something in his voice, she just couldn't tell if it was pain or...

Her eyes widened when she felt something on her butt.

"The power went out and you have a flashlight in your other hand or-"

"I'm hard." He answered quickly.

The princess brought a hand to her mouth to contain her sincere laughter and although she was managing to muffle the sound, her body vibrated with laughter.

Doing exactly what Jeno had told her not to do.

Because she had her back to him, ended up missing Jeno's hilarious expression of offense.

"Do you think that's funny?" Although she wanted to answer positively, she barely managed.

But of course she should have already known that teasing Jeno would have consequences.

She stopped laughing as soon as Jeno's hand that was holding her waist went down between her legs. The warm palm in contact with her pussy made her swallow a moan.

She wasn't wet. Yet.

"Do you think it's funny now?" he asked provocatively, then gave her ear a light bite.

Y/N not only got goosebumps from head to toe but also closed her eyes.

"You with a hard-on first thing in the morning like a teenager? Yes, it's funny." she replied, controlling her breathing and it was impossible for her heart not to race when she heard his mischievous laugh so close to her ear.

"Use your mouth to moan." He said before completely grinding his hips so she could feel his erection pressed against her ass as Jeno stuck two fingers in her pussy. 

Her legs were still weak, she didn't know if it was because of the night before or because she had just woken up, either way thanks to him her body temperature was rising too fast and her pussy was starting to get soaked. 

The princess couldn't control the way her hips rubbed against Jeno's, that friction against his hard cock was too good, not enough but at that moment as his fingers went in and out of her at a fast pace it was what she needed to start what they were about to do. 

What a great way to wake up. 

Her wet and throbbing pussy seemed to not only be used to Jeno's fingers, but also liked the way he ministered them inside her. 

Her toes wriggled as she felt her orgasm approaching and she let out a hiss but suddenly the rhythm stopped and Jeno's fingers remained still inside her. Forcing her to try to wiggle to continue, but Jeno stopped her with his free hand.

“Beg.” he whispered and the princess was already breathing heavily, so she just shook her head. “Beg and I’ll let you cum.”

“You know I won’t.”

Ah, that little game between the two of them at that moment made everything so much more interesting.

“Okay then.” He took his fingers out of her and she let out a sigh. Jeno just held her pussy again with the palm of his hand and she wiggled desperately for more. “I’m going to torture you, just like yesterday.”

The princess, irritated at having had the orgasm she so wanted denied, turned to face Jeno and one of her hands went to his shoulder, making him lie down completely on the bed.

Before Jeno could question, she was already climbing onto his lap.

As soon as she sat on top of his hard cock, Jeno hissed.

“I can do it myself, if you want.” She raised her eyebrow and he smiled widely, putting both hands behind his head.

Giving her complete freedom to do whatever she wanted.

But what he didn't expect was for the princess's agile hands to invade his underwear and take his member out, exposing the view she wanted to have had when he touched himself in front of her.

Jeno thought he was going to cum right there when the princess guided his cock to her burning pussy, she moaned at the contact and he just opened his mouth without being able to make a sound.

Y/N wanted to torture and tease him as much as he had done since they arrived at the chalet, so she used his member superficially only on her clit.

"I'm not going to fuck you here like this." he warned, bringing both hands to her waist that was riding provocatively on his lap while her fingers directed his cock exactly the way she wanted her clit to be touched.

"No, you won't." she agreed and Jeno's eyes burned for her. It was as if he transmitted all the strength he was using to simply not penetrate her all at once. "But you're going to make me cum."

"Fuck."

Jeno's eyes were lost in her pussy, the way she used his own member to touch herself without even threatening to put it in her entrance. 

Of course, if she did that, he was sure he wouldn't be able to control himself, so he just let the princess use his member.

After all, it was delicious to see her moan loudly and cum in his lap, taking his cock to her entrance to collect all the cum that was dripping out. 

He bit his lower lip so hard but he didn't even care at that moment, he was so hard for her.

But Jeno didn't seem to be the only one who had woken up horny, Y/N used her own cum on his cock to touch him and it was the most sensual and addictive scene he had ever witnessed.

Seeing the princess's hand there, making everything he had literally dreamed of, was too much for his poor heart.

He knew she was doing it as a kind of revenge for all the provocations but that didn't stop him from moaning. 

When the sound came out of his mouth, it seemed to instigate the princess even more so that she could make Jeno cum.

And although in his fantasy her mouth would also be involved in that touch, it was still not necessary because she made him cum with just her hand.

She looked at him with pride and Jeno felt a fire so alive inside him that he was unable to think straight.

All he wanted was her.

All he needed was her.

"Sit on my face." he ordered, calling her with his hand.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her pussy practically forcing her to obey and of course she didn't refuse, mainly because the way Jeno looked at her was making her feel powerful, desired.

She tried her best not to suffocate him but Jeno seemed to have other plans, he pulled her against his face and there he ate her like a starved man. 

His hands held the princess's thighs while hers grabbed his hair desperately.

His tongue, lips and nose were everywhere collecting her juice, entering her pussy making her contract inside, her muscles trembling because of the pleasure. 

Y/N couldn't take her eyes off the way he sucked and licked her thirstily, it was pornographic but it was so good that she could barely breathe, in fact the only function of her mouth was to moan his name over and over again. 

It was the only word she could remember right now.

[k9effect]

I thought about Mav passed out at his work desk with headphones on and it spiralled into this whole thing

Mav always felt a little lonely.

Even when he had people around him who loved him, he always ended up on his own one way or another and felt that loneliness seeping in. Goose was the first to notice. Before Goose's trips back to Tennessee to see Carole included Mav, he would come back to base to hear about how his pilot had lost a bit of his shine while he was away.

That's when Goose started making the recordings.

It was a small gift, but it meant the world to Mav. A brand new walkman, headphones and all, and a single cassette tape. This tape didn't have music on it, no, it contained a three hour recording of Goose reading though the F-14 Tomcat Flight Manual and adding in his own comedic commentary.

He wasn't sure what Mav would think of it, but when he returned home from another trip and found his pilot curled up asleep on the lounge, headphones on, walkman clutched in his hands, the tape run through, he realised he had made the right decision. Once Mav stirred, realising Goose had returned, he pulled the RIO onto the couch and thanked him for how thoughtful and considerate of a gift it was. That it made him feel less alone.

Goose continued the recordings. They were simple things he could make while completing other work. An hour recording here of Goose rambling while he completed chores, half an hour recording there of Goose muttering while he completes some paperwork. Even after Mav started joining him on his trips to Carole and they inevitably became attached at the hip, Goose continued making recordings. They grew more sincere over time, telling Mav that he was loved and he was strong and could get through anything.

Maverick was very glad he continued making them. It was a piece of Goose he could always carry with him.

Because one day, Goose wasn't there anymore.

Ice was never quite certain why his wingman was always listening to music on a busted walkman, but he never questioned it.

That was until he was packing Mav an overnight bag after an accident and Mav had specifically requested the walkman. Ice had taken a closer look at it and seen the writing on the cassette.

‘GOOSE - 12’

Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled on the headphones and pressed play.

“Y'know, Mav-” It was Goose's voice, Ice realised with a pang deep in his chest, “- I'm pretty sure, by like, most, if not all, the laws of aviation, you should have broken our Tomcat's airframe several times over. I honestly don't know how she's still together-” There was the clinking of dishes and sloshing of water along with the distinct sound of a bristly, sudsy brush scrubbing metal. “- What sort of demon did you make a deal with to manage this? I'm not arguing, I'd rather not face a board of inquiry again, but I'm curious.”

Ice paused it.

He realised very quickly what the cassette was and that, judging on the number, there were more of these.

Mav was always listening to Goose talk.

He packed the walkman into the overnight bag with much more care than he offered possibly anything.

Mav stared.

He blinked once, then twice. But it changed nothing.

There was a cassette sitting on his bed. On it, was scribbled a name and a number.

‘ICE - 1’

Beneath it was a small, simple note.

‘Listen to me.’

Mav pushed the cassette into his walkman and, sitting down, let it play.

“Hey, Mav. Sorry if this is weird for you, it sure feels weird for me. I- uh- I realised what the walkman is for. I'm sorry I teased you for it, it's not dumb and old. I know Slider thought you were pretty cool for having one. He's got one too. But anyways, I found a recording of Goose and I realised why you have this so I thought, y'know, maybe I could make you some new ones? To make up for the teasing at least. I mightn't be as good as Goose but I'll give it my best shot. I've got a book here, I'm just gonna read it out loud for a while, okay? Okay. Here we go…”

Mav listened to the whole thing in one sitting. It was long and sweet and Mav felt something aching inside him, something that hadn't ached in a long time.

Every week or so, Mav would find another cassette in his room with an increased number on it. It was just Ice for a while, but then he found one labelled ‘SLIDER - 1’. Then another a few months later labelled ‘HOLLYWOOD - 1’, then ‘WOLFMAN - 1’. His collection grew as more people helped continue Goose's legacy.

The day he found ‘VIPER - 1’ he felt like he was five again. Viper's recording was two hours worth of him recounting childhood stories of Mav, stories of him with his parents, of just his parents, and deployment tales of his dad.

Once Mav buys his first proper home, an old hangar out in the Mojave Desert, he builds a small shelf to hold all of his cassettes instead of keeping them in a bag or a box. It's then, when they're all neatly organised together, that he realises just how many he has.

The original thirty-one from Goose.

Three from Carole.

One short one from Bradley.

Seventeen from Iceman.

Ten from Slider.

Seven each from Hollywood and Wolfman.

Four from Chipper.

Three from Sunny.

And, so far, Two from Viper.

He doesn't feel so lonely anymore. Everyone he loves has put time and effort into making sure he doesn't feel alone. That instead, he feel loved.

And he sure does.

Even now, years down the track, Ice will stumble upon Maverick passed out at his work desk late at night ontop of a half finished project, with his old walkman next to him, headphones on, listening to Goose laugh his way through the Tomcat manual.