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jaythes1mp · 5 months ago

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4826 words, 27475 characters, 269 sentences, 122 paragraphs, 19.3 pages

All done in one night🙏 it’s 7:50 am and I haven’t slept, so if you don’t like this I might cry bro

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You quietly opened the classroom door, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible as you creep inside. You scanned the room, holding your laptop close to your side as your eyes darting around the space with slight panic. Your heart racing from the exertion of running from across campus to get here. Thankfully the professor hadn't started yet and your friend, who already sat near the back of the room, gives you a knowing glance. You give him a sheepish smile as you make your way through the rows of desks to him.

"You cut it a bit close this time." He gives you a cheeky grin. "I made it here though, didn't I?" You retort.

He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the professor clearing her throat at the front of the room, signalling class is about to begin. “Mister Wayne.” She warns, her calculating eyes boring into Tim’s frame. He sits up straight and gives her a sheepish smile.

You have to bring a hand up to muffle your laughter. “Mister Wayne.” You mock quietly, whispering so no one other than the boy next to you could hear.

He felt the eyes of the other students on him like burning hot plates, the majority of them were either envious of him or thought he was an entitled prick.

Of course the professor would call him out for talking when you were the one who ran in late.

Tim couldn't help but smile sheepishly as he was chastised, he had heard your quiet snickering behind. There was this fuzzy feeling in the back of his head at the thought that you were laughing because of him. He had made you happy. He could rub this in Damian’s face later.

The longer class went on the further and further consumed into your little project you got. You had finished the assignment for your criminology course a few days ago, not that Jason was aware. Instead occupying your time with your side hobby. You had over four thousand people following your reporters blog online and it earned you some decent cash. Now far too invested in the lives of the vigilantes of Gotham to really think about anything else. It didn’t help that the people you surrounded yourself with were all geniuses, so you couldn’t rely on them for help even with vague questions as they’d figure out that you’re the author for Blüdhaven’s top trending reporting blog. Maybe Dick could help you, he doesn’t portray himself as the smartest tool in the box when it comes to these things and he won’t ask too many questions.

Your train of thought is cut off as you feel the end of a pen dig into your side, glaring over at Tim.

He kept the pen pressed to your side, not at all being gentle about the small jabs as he tried to get your attention, silently gesturing to you to pay attention to the damn class, not whatever you were doing on your laptop. He’ll have to bug it, seeing as you’re not using your phone as much anymore.

You grimaced when you felt the pen being jabbed into your side again, a silent command to pay attention to the class and stop messing around on your laptop. You rolled your eyes and shot a glare at your friend, who was giving you a pointed look.

You begrudgingly closed the device, knowing that Tim would find other ways to get your attention if you didn’t stop being distracted. You sigh and silently resign yourself to actually paying attention to the class, although you made sure to shoot another glare at Tim for good measure.

Drake follows along quietly as you rush to pack up your belongings. The class seems to end faster than usual, and the moment the teacher releases you from the period, you grab Tim's sleeve and pull him along behind you, quickly making your way out the door with him in tow.

The hallway outside is filled with a mix of noise and chaos. Laughing groups of students chatter away amongst themselves, while others race through, late for their next class. The sound of sneakers scraping against the college’s floors loud and prominent. You push your way through the crowd, guiding him along as you make a beeline for the on-campus cafe.

As you enter the cafe, the atmosphere shifts to a more relaxed vibe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods waft through the air, filling the space with a comforting scent. The cafe is moderately crowded, with students occupying the various tables and booths scattered throughout. Some chat amongst themselves while sipping on their drinks, while others are engrossed in their studies, textbooks spread out before them. There's a gentle hum of conversation that fills the cafe, blending with the soft music playing in the background.

As you scan the cafe for an available booth, your eyes roam over the cozy ambiance, taking in the various students enjoying their time. However, your search comes to an abrupt halt when your gaze falls on Dick Grayson, the young professor, sitting alone in the corner. You discreetly tug on Tim's sleeve and subtly gesture in Grayson's direction with a nudge of your shoulder.

You notice a subtle change in Tim's expression as his lips curve into a knowing grin. He doesn't seem all that fazed by Dick’s presence, almost as if he was expecting it. As if he was already aware that he’d be here. However, what you been blissfully unaware of was Dick’s impatiently bouncing leg, and the checking of his phone every few seconds.

You pull Tim along to the man’s booth, standing opposite him with a grin. Grayson’s face lights up at the sight of you, and he quickly places his phone face down on the table before standing up to greet you. Without hesitation, he spreads his arms wide, opening them in invitation for a welcoming embrace.

You eagerly accept Dick’s open arms, wrapping your own around his sides without a second thought. Seeking out the familiar comfort of his embrace. Your head fits perfectly against his chest, and you relish the feel of his warmth and the comforting familiarity of this act. Settling snugly against him like a younger sibling would to an older brother.

With your head snuggled against his chest, you're not able to spot the dark grins that spread across the brothers' faces as they exchange knowing looks, their gazes fixed on you.

You gradually untangle yourself from Dick’s embrace and slide into the booth, settling comfortably between the two brothers. Chuckling softly when the oldest Wayne seemed reluctant to let go of you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He chirps, resting his head in his palm and idly tracing around the carved lines of the table.

You nod, settling back into the booth and intending to let the two brothers continue their discussion without interruption. However, you quickly realize that their intense stares are focused solely on you, their gazes unwavering and intense. The intensity in their gazes prompt you to discreetly clear your throat in an attempt to break the silence.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," you comment. Fiddling with a loose strand at the end of your sweater.

The brothers exchange a glance, seemingly communicating silently between them with subtle nods and raised eyebrows. Eventually, Dick clears his throat and turns his gaze back to you, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thought." Dick says, his voice tinged with a hint of humor.

Tim, on the other hand, remains silent, his steady gaze not leaving you. His expression is unreadable, though a small quirk of his lips suggests a hint of amusement.

“Right...” You look down towards the table, noticing it empty of any beverages nor sweets. Had Dick not ordered before we got here?

You blink, realising your mistake and sitting up. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick snorts, but quickly quietens down by a sharp look thrown from Tim. “Yeah, we’re... aquatinted.”

Tim subtly kicks Dick’s leg under the table before turning back to you. “Are you hungry?” His blue eyes analysing you.

You shrug, leaning back and drumming your fingers against the table. “I could eat.”

Dick taps the table, leaning forward to get a better look at you. His eyes flicker with curiosity as his gaze roams over your form, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What do you feel like eating?" he asks, watching you drumming your fingers against the surface of the table. Tim's expression changes to one of interest as he observes you as well.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

Dick cocks his head, still watching you closely. "We'll have some coffee and some pastries to start," he replies, his gaze flickering back to your fingers tapping against the table.

Tim adds, "Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries."

You nod in agreement with their exchange, letting your hands fall to your lap as you continue to follow the conversation. "Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter who's been patiently waiting for your order. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick almost coos at your manors.

The waiter smiles politely and nods, taking note of your order before hurriedly walking away to place the order. Meanwhile, Dick props his chin on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness, but you know he’ll give you that sad puppy face if you say no.

You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, leaning back.

Dick snickers at your comment about your roommate. "Sounds like a character," he remarks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. A fond smile at the thought of Jason.

Tim, on the other hand, looks sympathetic. "I can relate," he says, shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

A small huff escapes Dick's lips in response to Tim's words, though it's not loud enough for you to hear. His expression momentarily shifts, a pout crossing his features.

After a few minutes of quiet banter The waiter returns promptly with a serving plate stacked with various pastries. He places it on the table and then sets the drinks down in front of each of you. As the waiter walks away, Tim quickly grabs two of the pastries and places them on a plate in front of you. Pushing the white porcelain closer to you with his pointer and middle fingers.

Dick, meanwhile, takes a sip of his coffee, a pleasant hum leaving his lips. Watching the interaction fondly.

"Go on," Tim encourages, nudging the plate slightly towards you. "Make sure to eat." His gaze is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You glance down at the pastry, a feeling of warmth spreading through you at Tim's thoughtfulness. Before you can thank him, Dick interjects, a playful smirk on his face.

"Aww, look at that. Timbo's acting all chivalrous, ain't he?" he teases, elbowing Tim lightly in the side. Tim rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Can it, Dickhead," Tim mutters with no real heat behind his words, shoving Dick's hand off his shoulder. But it's hard to stay mad at Dick, especially when he has that charming smirk plastered on his face. He playfully ruffles Tim's hair, earning him a glare in return.

Dick just laughs, unfazed by Tim's retort. "Oh, don't be like that," he replies, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

Sensing the brewing banter, you take a sip of your milkshake, your attention flickering between the two.

Tim attempts to smooth his hair back into place, his gaze shifting to you. "Don't mind him," he says with another eye roll. "Dick's sense of humor never matured past the age of twelve."

Dick feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey, I'll have you know my sense of humor is top-notch," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tim snorts, taking another sip of his coffee to suppress a laugh. "Sure it is," he says dryly. "If by top-notch you mean 'borderline obnoxious.'"

You can't help but chuckle at their banter, hiding your smile behind your milkshake.

The sound drawing the attention of the Wayne brothers as they turn their gazes to you. They watch you for a moment, their expressions softening at the sound of your laughter.

Dick's smirk widens as he observes your reaction, his gaze fixated on you. "Ah, there it is," he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Tim, too, can't help but smile quietly as he watches you, his expression warm. There's an almost admiring look in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side, studying you closely.

You pick up the chocolate croissant, bringing it to your lips the pausing mid-bite as they’ve turned their attention to you.

Dick's eyes remain locked on you, watching as you pause in mid-bite. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand once more, a playful glint in his eyes. Something dark hidden beneath the ocean swirls of his irises.

Tim, too, observes you closely, his gaze lingering on your face. There's an intensity in his gaze that was absent earlier; it's calculating, almost. A subtle hint of possessiveness in the depth of his eyes. He seems to be analyzing your every expression with a keen interest, as if trying to uncover some hidden secret. He lifts the coffee to his lips, taking a long sip and averting his attention elsewhere.

"You gonna eat that or just stare at it?" Dick teases, gesturing towards the croissant you hold in your hand. His tone is light, but the intensity in his gaze belies the lightheartedness of his words. It’s a subtle warning to eat.

You roll your eyes at the gesture, taking a bite into the pastry. It’s warm, freshly baked. The chocolate drizzled over the top as well as placed inside. It practically melts into your mouth. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth as you eat, hiding the grin. “It’s alright.” You lie through your teeth. It’s amazing. But you wouldn’t give the overprotective guys the satisfaction.

Dick snickers, seeing right through your lie. "Just alright, huh?" he says, feigning disbelief. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tim, a knowing glint in his eyes, takes another sip of his coffee. He can tell you're enjoying the croissant, as evidenced by the gleam of chocolate around your lips. But he decides to play along, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe you're just too picky," he comments. They’ll get you a life time supply of these once the plan succeeds.

You hiss, putting the half eaten pastry down onto the plate and elbowing his side. Unaware of the chocolate on your face which makes it hard for them to take you seriously. “I am not picky.” You huff, crossing your arms.

Dick suppresses a laugh as he watches you pout, unable to resist teasing you further. He reaches forward, swiping a finger across your cheek to collect a bit of chocolate that's been left behind.

"Oh really?" he says, a smirk on his face. He uses a napkin to wipe off his finger. His eyes never leave your face as he does so.

Tim, sitting to your side, watches the exchange. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes, but he keeps his composure.

You pause, an embarrassed flush coming over your face. How long had that been there?

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth, indicating where the chocolate is located.

Tim can't help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

You brush a hand over your face, wiping away the excess chocolate. Though the movement only seems to smear it further.

Dick chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. His eyes roam over your face, taking immense pleasure in the flustered state you're in.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him. With a gentle touch, he slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin.

You felt more embarrassed than anything, resting your head against the table afterwards. Feeling like you just wanted to evaporate into the air.

Dick laughs, his amusement clearly evident as you hide your face against the table. He pats your head affectionately, his touch gentle.

Tim watches you, his expression more subdued than Dick's. However, there's a hint of a smile on his lips, a gleam in his eyes that betrays his amusement.

Dick relaxes in the cafe’s empty booth, leaning back slightly as he glances around the room with a touch of impatience. His foot taps rhythmically against the floor, a subtle sign of his restless energy. His grip on his phone tightens as his eyes remain fixed on the screen, watching the blinking red dot on the small map come closer and closer. His fingers tense around the phone's edges, his impatience growing with every passing moment.

As the blinking red dot reaches its destination within the bakery, Dick places his phone face down on the table and casually pretends to check over the menu’s items, feigning indifference despite his growing restlessness. He tries to act nonchalant, as if his mind isn’t anxiously anticipating your arrival.

Dick senses the familiar presence approaching, the shadows in the cafe becoming longer and stretching over his table. He manages to hide his growing excitement, attempting to feign nonchalance, but his giddiness is almost palpable. He looks up from the menu he was pretending to study, his smile betraying him.

He quickly rises from his seat, his body brimming with anticipation. Without hesitation, he opens his arms wide, the eagerness evident on his face as he waits for their baby birds embrace. Practically preening when you bury your face in his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart going a mile a minute. You fit so snugly in his arms, like you were made to be there. His baby sibling.

He meets Tim’s crazed eyes, a dark grin crossing both of their features. He mouths slowly. ‘All good?’

His younger brother nods, fishing out his phone from his pocket to display the vitals silently. You were good, healthy. He hastily hides his phone once you pull away.

Dick almost lets out a whine. Why don’t you want to stay in his arms, baby bird? Can’t you tell you’re made to be there? Dick struggles to release you from his embrace, his arms reluctantly letting go as he allows you to squeeze yourself into the booth beside him. He manages to put some distance between you and himself begrudgingly, his eyes flickering to your face for a brief moment before shifting his attention to Tim.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He gazes at you with a soft smile on his face, resting his head on his palm as his thumb absently runs over the carved lines on the tabletop. Although he tries to hide it, there's a hint of a pout forming on his lips, clearly displeased by the fact that you've moved away from him. However, he brightens when you don't pull away and instead lean into him when his knee pushes gently against yours in a silent display of affection. Enjoying the proximity.

A comfortable silence runs over the table, a possessive smile on the brother’s faces as they watch you intently. Sitting there so perfectly, your nails picking at a screw on the bottom of your laptop. He shifts closer once you clear your throat, his baby blue eyes honing in on your form. His pupils dilated.

He lets out a content sigh at the sound of your voice. So melodic, it reels him in.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," Dick observes you intently, noticing the way you begin to pick at your sweater instead. He can see the anxious habit forming, and silently wishes he could reach out and gently grab your hands to stop you. However, he resists the impulse and simply watches you, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection. He’ll help you with that destructive habit once you’re home, he promises, little bird.

Dick's gaze turns to Tim, a silent silent exchange taking place between the brothers. Dick raises a questioning eyebrow, his grin widening when Tim responds with a subtle nod. Their expressions betraying their shared excitement.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thoughts." Dick speaks, his voice tinged with a hint of humor. Fondness evident.

“Right...”

Dick's eyes narrow as you sit up, shifting your position and inadvertently pulling your knee away from him. A wave of disappointment washes over him, and he has to bite back the urge to command you to put your knee back where it was. He tries to mask his frustration, his expression remaining neutral, but a subtle tension is evident in his body language. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick relaxes a little at the sound of your voice, he grins at Tim's nickname, clearly amused by it. However, his laughter is abruptly cut off as he catches the disapproving look his brother gives him. Immediately sensing the tension, he composes himself, his grin quickly turning into a more subdued smirk. “Yeah,” Dick looks you over calculatingly for a moment, his eyes studying you intently as he tries to choose his words carefully. He pauses for a moment before speaking up, his voice measured and deliberate. “We’re acquainted.”

Dick's attempts to maintain a serious expression falter as Tim shoots him another pointed look and kicks his shin. He can't help but grin, finding his brother's disapproving glances more amusing than anything. He rubs his leg, the younger vigilante having not held back.

“Are you hungry?” His brother questioned, his gaze shifting back to you. You have to be hungry, Dick thought. Jason said you had eaten nearly five hours ago. They can’t let their little bird starve!

When you shrug their eyes narrow, the drumming of your fingers catching their attention. “I could eat.” Your voice broke the silence.

Dick coos. It’s okay, you don’t have to downplay how much you need food. We’ll look after you.

"What do you feel like eating?" Dick's voice comes out slightly breathless as he speaks, his words spoken with conviction. He knows your power over them, and he would do just about anything for you within reason. The cafe is no exception, and he knows that they would probably buy the place in a heartbeat if you so much as hinted at wanting it.

Dick glances at you as you silently scan the menu, his eyes locking onto Tim's right after. A silent conversation takes place between the brothers, their expressions communicating silently what their words can't. Tim then shifts his attention towards the waiter, gesturing for them to come over, while you remain focused on the menu options in front of you.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

They wanted to cut the waiters throat out for the way you flinch at his unexpected presence. Too engrossed in the pictures on the menu to notice the world around you. Snapped out of it by his feigned cheerfulness. You probably hadn’t even noticed your own reaction, seeing how you instantly smiled up at him after.

You needed their protection, that was abundantly clear.

He clocks his head, not sparing the waiter a second glance. "We'll have some coffee and pastries to start," his gaze flickers back to your fingers tapping against the table.

"Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries." Tim adds.

"Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick has to hold back his coos at your manors. So polite.

He faintly hears the waiter’s descending steps. Dick props his chin back on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting. He’ll reward you for that later.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness. As if the brothers weren’t already informed.

“Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, the childish action making Grayson want to squish your cheeks and hold you close. His baby bird is so cute, complaining about big brother. Not that you were aware that they were yet.

"Sounds like a character," He grins sharply, his eyes softened at the thought of Jason.

"I can relate," Dick’s attention is drawn to Tim as he speaks, the other boy shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

He nearly squabbles. He does not nag. He huffs, crossing his arms at Tim’s words. A pout tugging at his bottom lip.

The rest of the conversation goes like a blur to Dick, coming so naturally to him, as if he was simply bantering with his family. Which he was. No one could tell him otherwise.

His attention is suddenly pulled back to reality as he notices the chocolate smeared across your face childishly, like a fussy child. You feel Dick's thumb gently wipe at your face, clearing away the smeared chocolate. There's something almost instinctual about his gesture, as if it comes naturally to him, like he's done it countless times before.

Dick chuckles as he responds to your surprise, a smirk dancing on his lips. He dabs at his finger with a napkin, his eyes fixed intently on your face as he cleans off the chocolate smudges. There's a hint of playfulness in his gaze.

Dick leans forward slightly, his gaze still fixated intently on your face. He notices the way your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and his eyes gleam with amusement. A delighted smirk spreads across his face, his eyes never leaving yours as he observes your flustered state. There's no denying it - you were the epitome of cuteness as a younger sibling. Your chaotic charm and antics had Dick and Tim wrapped around your little finger, and the two brothers couldn't help but adore every single moment.

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth.

Tim couldn’t help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

Their gazes softening further as you attempt to rid your face of the chocolate only to smudge it further.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your up head towards him. It’s hard to think straight with you looking up at him with that pout and flushed cheeks. Like a little kid clinging to their old brother after having a nightmare. How he wishes he had met you as a kid. He slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin. Hesitantly to let go.

The brothers let out hearty laughter at the sight of you burrowing your head into the table. They could practically see you trying to will yourself to disappear. Tim grins fondly, shuffling closer. Dicks own hand moving out to pay your head softly. Their touch affectionate and gentle. They wanted to see you like this all the time.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

I tried to make the POV’s show the difference in how they interpret things. For example, where you may perceive Tim’s expression as a smile, Dick sees it as something dark. You pay more attention to Tim so he’s mentioned more, Dick pays more attention to you so you’re mentioned more.

Tim Drake is mentioned as ‘Mr Wayne’ because I’d assume that he’d be judged based on his family rather than his actual name.

Should I make a tag list? Would anyone even want to be put on a tag list for this?

Comments and questions are really appreciated!

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souliebird · 5 months ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 24]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 6.8k 🌶️

ao3 link

It is by some birthday miracle Minnie has yet to run out of energy.

Usually, once she has her bath and changes into her pajamas, she starts to wind down, but today is a special, exciting day, so she just keeps on going.

It probably does not help that as part of her massive birthday haul, she got a new onesie pajama that makes her look like an oversized mouse - including big ears and a long tail. As soon as you finished zipping her in and pulled the hood up, your daughter went absolutely feral. She started scampering around on all fours - pretending she was indeed her namesake.

That was ten minutes ago, and you don’t think she’ll stop anytime soon. Especially not with Matt encouraging her.

You watch from your spot on the couch as Minnie scurries over to the dining table, crawling under one of the chairs to hide. In the kitchen, Matt is dramatically pretending to look around while he holds up the butterfly net that came with a toy bug hunting kit.

“Here, mousey, mousey, mousey,” he calls out in a low voice, which only serves to send Minnie into a fit of giggles. “Here, mousey, mousey, mousey.”

You, of course, play along and muse out, “I don’t know Mister Exterminator, this mouse may be too smart. I don’t know if you’ll be able to catch her.”

“You’re right,” he says, straightening up and he turns to face you. He rests the net on his shoulder, then taps at his chin with the index finger of his opposite hand, “I think we are going to have to set a trap.”

“A trap?” you question. You appear to keep your full attention on Matt, but in reality, you are sneaking a picture. Mouse is crouched in her hiding spot, hands covering her mouth. It takes everything in you to not start laughing.

“A trap, my Queen. We’re going to need some cheese, a stick, and a bucket.”

“I’m bigger than a bucket!” Minnie suddenly protests before realizing she’s given away where she is and clamps her hands back over her mouth. Matt whips around and starts towards her, raising his net with a mock menace.

“Gotcha!”

Minnie tries to dash towards you and the couch, but Matt, gently and with amazing precision, brings the net down on her head. Your little one instantly collapses to the floor like she has no bones. She reaches towards you, and with a performance worthy of an Oscar, declares, “Tell Scooby I loves him!” before falling over.

You do your part by gasping as Matt scoops up her limp little body. He brings her over to you, presenting her with a slight kneel, “The Mouse Princess has been slain, my Queen.”

Minnie is trying her best to keep her eyes squeezed shut and suppress her giggles, so to make it even harder, you take on a blasé attitude, “Oh, how very sad. Now she can’t come to the super-secret dance party.”

Little eyes pop open and Matt sets her on her feet as she squirms back to life, “I wanna go to the super...super secret dance party!”

The Dance Party is your scheme to get the last of Minnie’s energy out. You do not want her to stay up too late past her bedtime, or she is going to be grumpy tomorrow. No one wants a grumpy toddler at the zoo.

“You want to go to the super secret dance party?” Matt confirms, a large grin starting to form on his lips, and Minnie nods so hard her eared hood falls off.

You go to fix it, fluffing the ears so they properly stand up, “What song should we play first, Mouse Princess?”

This is a hard decision, and as she thinks over her options, Mouse sticks her fingers into her mouth. This is a behavior you are beginning to think you should address, but you want to do more research and consult with Matt as well. You have been wondering if it helps her focus - her own way of limiting out the various inputs she must be constantly receiving. You think that maybe having her hand in her mouth helps to mask other smells, because you have noticed she doesn’t actually suck on them - they just are inserted - and it's something she does when she’s thinking.

Or it may be that she's a toddler and likes the taste of her fingers and you are once again overthinking everything.

“R-B-S-T!” Minnie finally declares, throwing her hands up in the air. Matt looks absolutely baffled by the decision, but luckily, you speak Minnie, and know exactly what she wants. You grab your phone, open up your music app, and go to your daughter’s playlist to select the requested song.

You get up as Aretha Franklin begins on the speakers.

This is one of Minnie’s favorite songs to sing and dance to, and yours as well. You have listened to it so many times you almost have little routine together. You begin to shimmy your shoulders at your daughter as she does the same to you, leaning forward and singing in sync.

“What you want. Baby, I got it! What you need, you know I got it!”

Matt lights up and it takes him less than a beat to jump into bopping along. It is one of those songs you think everyone knows the lyrics to, so you aren’t surprised when he joins in singing at Minnie. You quickly become a dancing circle, grooving together. Minnie stumbles over some words but her toddler heart is completely in it. She belts out the song, the biggest smile on her face as you mime some of what is being said.

You continue to dance as the song changes to one that filled your childhood. You carefully curated the playlist to be free of any Disney Sing-a-longs or other toddler centric jams - these are strictly songs you actually enjoy that are safe for Minnie to listen to. You picked one-hit wonders and things that tend to fill the radio airwaves on a Friday night.

The song is popular enough that Matt seems to know some of the words - or he is shamelessly making them up. You aren’t going to fact check him. You are too caught up in watching him dance - he’s completely thrown himself into it. He even has a little bounce in his step.

His t-shirt is tight around his chest and when he raises his arms, his shirt rides up, showing off a belt of skin above his pajama pants. You can see the band of his boxers - a brand you aren’t aware of - and it makes your skin warm. You know you should not stare, but it is hard not to.

Especially when he does a spin.

Your eyes drop down to his behind and you feel like an absolute pervert ogling him. How does he manage to choose clothes that emphasize how wonderfully fit he is while still looking so casual?

You tear yourself away from his perfect physique and try to enjoy the playtime with your daughter. You need to wear her out, which means you need to be more enthusiastic with your dancing.

You have found a strange upside to Matt being Blind and that is you are more comfortable acting a bit of a fool around him. He isn’t going to stop and stare at you for doing something silly for Minnie and the idea that he can’t perceive you in that way is doing wonders for your anxiety. You are very much aware that he knows what you are doing because of those amazing senses of his but you don’t feel judged in the way you do if you know someone is seeing you. It is probably Ableist in some way, but you like being able to relax more around him.

You don’t need to hide who you are or pretend to be someone you are not.

You begin to move your hips, swirling them as you throw your hands up into the air. You get a full body motion going, quickly adding in a few twirls.

Mouse is quick to copy you, arms up, spinning, and rocking side to side. You slowly add in some arm pumps to get her little muscles really going. Matt seems to catch on to what you are trying to do, as he starts to add in some leg kicks to his dances, which Minnie instantly incorporates into her movements. Soon enough, she looks like she’s either in a mini mosh pit or - since she’s in a mouse costume - she’s a tiny kaiju trying to ravage an invisible town.

You go through two more pop chart toppers before Minnie shows any signs of slowing down. As soon as you sense that her enthusiasm is dipping, you move onto step two of your devious plan.

“Do you want to dance with Daddy?”

The answer is obviously a yes.

The Mouse Princess gets scooped up and set on Matt’s hip and he takes one of her small hands in his so he can guide her around in a dance. You let them have one bopping dance, where it is all energy and Minnie shimming like crazy before you sneakily switch the playlist.

The next song has a beat to dance to, but it is nothing like the previous ones. Matt gradually slows so he is rocking in place, pretending to slow dance with his daughter.

You stop at that point and stay on your phone, holding it up to record him mouthing the words to ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ while Minnie slowly starts to sink against his shoulder. You can’t help but sway to the music, a soft smile spreading across your face.

You never thought you would get this - not just seeing Minnie’s father being so absolutely sweet with her, but having a family where these sorts of moments can happen. You didn’t think this was the type of life you would get to live.

Instead of indifference, you are surrounded by love. It may not be love for you, but you get to soak it all in and enjoy how your daughter is absolutely spoiled. Matt is so clearly head over heels for her, wrapped around her little finger more than you are, and it seems like he is dragging his entire network along with him.

His friends went hog wild in terms of getting gifts for your little toddler. Not only did Foggy give her the pogo stick, but she got all sorts of stickers from him and coloring books - and his Mom - who you really need to meet at this point - sent home baked cookies and Scooby Doo themed puzzles. Karen was not to be outdone, though, as she and Frank went the doll route. They entered your apartment with a two-story wooden Victorian style dollhouse that the Punisher apparently refurbished. They had full Princess themed furnishing to go with it and you can only imagine that poor Karen is going to be getting doll ads for months.

Sister Maggie sent along more practical things - some learning to read books. To your great surprise, all of the simple stories come with print lettering and Braille, and Minnie now also has a big letter board that has the same. You want her to learn the language and now she and Matt can read bedtime stories together.

You still have trouble comprehending that all these people are in your daughter’s life now. It so effortlessly went from being just the two of you to an extended Family.

And even Minnie is understanding that.

While Foggy is Froggy and Sister Maggie is Daddy’s Mommy, Miss Karen has been officially upgraded to Auntie Karen. You do not know what triggered the change in title, but she was lording it over Foggy and Frank like it was a status symbol.

You have promised to take so many pictures to send to them while you are at the zoo and the sheer idea that other people want the photos makes you giddy. You know you are going to end up printing some out to frame. You want to send something to Sister Maggie and you just know Matt will want one - or fifteen - for his desk.

You are dragged from your thoughts when Minnie finally, finally yawns.

You stop the music before it can go onto the next crooner and step towards your favorite pair, “Are you getting sleepy, baby?”

She nods against Matt’s shoulder before turning her head so she can use him as a pillow.

“Okay, let's get you into bed,” you coo. Luckily, she does not protest - she is completely petered out and you are not sure if she’ll even make it to the bed before she's in a deep sleep.

The Dance Party was a complete success, and you decide it will be something to keep in your back pocket when Mouse is too active at night.

You follow Matt as he carries Minnie to the bedroom. He is still just barely swaying her in his arms still, tempting her closer and closer to Dreamland.

You slip around him to get into the room first so you can make sure the sheets and covers are turned down. As the dead weight that is your daughter is slipped into bed, you turn on the air conditioner, so the room gets nice and cold. By the time you get back to Mouse’s side, Matt has gotten her sleep headband on and secured, and you can't tell if she's awake or not.

Apparently, she is still somewhat conscious, because Matt asks in the softest and sweetest voice, “Did you have a good birthday, my love?”

Minnie’s lips barely move as she mumbles out an, “uh-huh.”

“I'm glad. Mommy and Daddy love you very much. Sweet dreams, my little angel.”

He gives her a kiss to the cheek, then steps aside so that you can do the same. As you pull back, she weakly smacks her lips together and breathes out, “Luff.”

Your heart grows three sizes, and you truly feel like the Grinch when you have to pull Matt from the room. You know, if he could, he would stand there all night, standing dutifully by her side as she slept.

But Mouse Princess Minnie needs her rest, and you need help cleaning up the aftermath of the party.

The dining table is covered in various arts and crafts projects. Minnie had practically run a little sweat shop with how she had multiple adults sat and focused on painting and building things with popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners. Luckily, everything is dry now and can be moved. You have a scrapbook you are going to put some pieces in, and others are going to be hung up around the apartment.

You want to keep everything Minnie makes - you have no relics from your childhood, and you don't want that for her. You want to sit down with her when she's an adult and laugh together about how cute she was.

As you start to clear the table, Matt begins to walk around the room, picking up any lingering trash. You've been good at cleaning throughout the day and not letting things sit, but you still had things like empty birthday bags and toy boxes out. You can see him snapping out of the corner of your eyes as he gathers things, and it makes you smile. You are always fascinated about how he navigates the world and using echolocation to clean isn’t something you would have thought possible.

“I didn't picture you as the dancing type,” he teases across the room as you sort arts and crafts.

“Oh, I am not,” is your instant reply and you can’t help but screw up your face at the idea of you being a dancer.

“Really? You seemed to know what you were doing.”

“Definitely not,” you insist. You feel yourself start to flush as Matt chuckles behind you.

“I think you are selling yourself short. I bet there were more eyes on you than you realized when you went dancing.” You know he is being sweet and trying to boost your ego, but you’ve never been out dancing. You didn’t even go to your prom. In fact, the last time you danced with someone who wasn’t Minnie was in middle school, at one of the in-school dance events.

That isn’t something you really want to admit, so you go with, “I don’t really go out dancing.”

He gives the faintest of sighs from the living room, so you decide to try and humor him and add, “I don’t think I’d enjoy a club, but I always thought learning ballroom would be fun. Less people and..you know,” you motion up and for some reason twirl your hand, “less bass.”

“That does seem more your style,” he replies, and you heat up even more. You know he can’t see you, but you duck your head to try and hide how you must be blushing.

As always, when you feel yourself start to get flustered, your brain takes a backseat to your mouth. You muse out, “I always wanted to learn to slow dance.”

You instantly start to mentally berate yourself. You sound like a complete idiot - as far as you know there is no method to slow dancing beyond swaying. You equate things like waltzing and other partner dances with slow dancing - even though the terminology isn’t right.

“You’ve never slow danced?”

He sounds surprised and you want to smother yourself with the artwork in your hands. You are digging a hole of pathetic-ness and you need to abandon this topic of conversation before Matt realizes how lame you truly are. To do this, you tell him, “I told you I’m not the dancing type.”

Matt doesn’t respond, so you think you are in the clear. You don’t dare look over at him, instead keeping your focus on Minnie’s painting of Max you’ve just picked up. Her drawings are getting more and more defined - you can actually tell this is meant to be a dog as opposed to her usual circle-based creatures. You are so proud of her, and you can’t wait until she’s more comfortable with writing. You think her toddler handwriting is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Siri,” Matt suddenly says from right behind you, making you start with fright and drop the painting back to the table, “play ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”

You whirl around to find Matt impossibly close, holding his phone up to speak into it. You quickly start to shake your head, just barely chanting, “no, no, no, no,” at him.

“Getting that from your Music Playlist,” the phone traitorously replies before the song starts to play. Matt reaches past you to set his phone down on the table, then that same hand goes to your waist.

You try to protest by saying his name, but he cuts you off, “Humor me.”

Your anxiety can’t fight that as much as you want to, so you very reluctantly let him pull you away from the table and towards the emptier area of the kitchen. You cannot look at him as he guides you into position - you can only stare at your feet and pray for the internet to cut out and turn off the music.

But of course, that doesn’t happen.

Matt slowly begins to sway, and you force yourself to awkwardly follow along. He must know how uncomfortable you are, as the thumb that is on your hip starts to rub in slow circles and he starts talking in a soft voice, “they never played a lot of music at St. Agnes’, but Father Lantom used to have a radio in his office. He’d have it going after hours, when he was doing paperwork or working on sermons. I would focus on it to help me sleep - they’d always play the same things over and over and it became like white noise to help dampen everything else. He used to hum along with this one.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to him and not the lyrics to the song. You don’t think you’ve heard him refer to this person before, but you are guessing this is the man who ran the Church Matt grew up in.

“It’s a good song,” you mumble, trying your best to engage with him instead of being overwhelmed.

“It is,” he agrees. He steps a breath closer to you then oh so gently, just barely touches his forehead to yours. All of your embarrassment evaporates, and you are very hyper aware of everywhere you and Matt are touching. Your throat tightens a fraction, and your heart begins to pound so loudly it drowns out the music.

You want to apologize because you know Matt must be able to hear your heart becoming a drum and it must be annoying, but all you can do is sway in his arms.

You feel his breath on your cheek when he asks in a whisper, “is this okay?” and you can’t do anything more than get your head to nod up and down once. His response, for some unknown reason, is to give a pleased hum. The noise is like lightning down your spine, making you shiver against him and instead of letting you go like you would expect, he becomes even closer.

Your reaction is to curl your fingers tighter around him and you don’t understand why. Part of you wants to run and hide under your covers and never speak of this moment again, but another wants to stay like this forever, because despite your panic, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

To be held?

Even if it is a ruse.

Matt is taking pity on you and dancing with you as a bit of a tease, but he’s not being cruel. You told him you don’t dance, so of course he wants to dance. You’ve seen the interaction in film and television plenty of times - Matt is a good man and wants you to have fun.

And you are, aren’t you?

You’re having fun.

You had a wonderful day filled with laughter and joy, and now it is ending in a sweet moment.

You can let yourself enjoy this.

Matt breathes your name against your cheek and the lightning feeling is back, “you’re overthinking again.”

“I’m trying not to,” you promise him, because you truly are trying to tamper down your thoughts. It is just hard not to when your mind won’t stop spinning.

“Do you want this?” he asks after a moment and you have no idea what he means, but honestly it doesn’t matter. Every fiber of your being screams the same thing as soon as the words leave him.

“Yes.”

The world comes to a sudden halt as Matthew Murdock’s lips press against yours.

They are soft and warm and as sweet as you remember them being. They are hesitant, almost delicate, as they move against yours. A gentle hand comes up and cups your cheek and it snaps you back into reality.

The dam inside you breaks and you do not think - you only act.

Your hands launch up to tangle into his short hair and you kiss Matt back with a hunger you did not know you had.

His reaction is instantaneous - within a moment you are backed against a countertop, and he is practically devouring you. He is groaning low in his throat, sounding almost animalistic, and the hand that was on your hip is now on the small on your back, keeping you pressed firmly against him. Gone is the sweet, innocent moment - you need him in a biblical way, and you think he feels the same.

To your own surprise, it is you who pushes things further, biting at his lower lip. He opens himself easily for you and you reward this by licking into his mouth.

He may have you pinned to the counter, but you do not feel trapped. You know if you showed any doubt about what was happening or indicated you wanted to stop - consciously or unconsciously - Matt would be across the room in a second.

You don’t need to be scared with him - you know that now - and that only fuels your fire.

You need to be touched.

You need to be held.

You need Matt to fuck you stupid.

And by the bulge starting to press into your hip, you think he is more than happy to do just that.

Matt breaks the kiss, only to move his mouth down to your neck. He drags his tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin there causing obscene little noises to come out of you.

“Sound so good,” he growls into your throat and all sorts of heady reactions course through you. “Smell so fucking good. Drives me crazy.” He emphasizes his point by burying his nose into your pulse point before biting down. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you whimper out his name, but he isn’t done with his praise yet, continuing on between lapping at your skin, “Sit there so innocent and sweet, not knowing I want to bury my face between your legs. Can’t think when you get all flustered. Want my tongue on you at all times.”

His words wash over you, but you can’t contextualize what he is Actually saying. All you can hear is his current need and desire and you want his tongue on you as well. You know how well he can use it and your body craves him.

You don’t know how to tell him what you want beyond hiking your leg up to wrap around him and pressing your hips forward with a needy, “Please, Matt.”

It seems that is all he needs you to say.

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and sets you on the counter. You lean back to push your sleeping shorts and panties down and he is there to help, practically tearing them off your legs and sending them across the kitchen. As soon as that barrier is gone, Matt wastes not one second - he drops to his knees between your legs and drags you forward by your hips, throwing your thighs over his shoulders.

Any shame you may have is gone the moment he drags his nose from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit and only then do you realize how absolutely soaked you are.

He starts to mumble something under his breath, but you can’t hear him over how heavy you are breathing. The hot puffs of air against you are the worst type of tease and already making your muscles quake. To keep yourself from slipping, you place one hand on the counter, then use the other to grab onto Matt’s hair. You must grab too hard as he shudders under your fingers, but he keeps up his soft words.

He’s so close and you haven’t been touched in so so long that you cannot take this.

“Matt, please,” you beg and again he shakes under your hand.

“Amen,” you just barely hear before his voice raises just enough to be actually audible, “Don’t worry, my darling, I’ll take care of you, now.”

You nearly lose it when he finally puts his mouth on you. You are already worked up and so sensitive, that a few flicks of his tongue has you mewling. That only serves to encourage him, and he buries himself deeper into your core, moaning shamelessly like he is the one being pleasured. You grip tightly onto his hair to try to keep some composure, but you are already right on the edge.

Your hips start to twitch, and your abdomen starts to tighten before you realize it. Your head rolls back as you start to chant Matt’s name in a pant, begging him to chase your incoming orgasm.

He, of course, happily obeys.

It is not mind shattering, but it has you rocking forward to curl around Matt’s head, your other hand coming around to claw at his shoulders as you come. He keeps his tongue working until your thighs stop quaking, then he pulls back. He grins up at you like he’s a kid in the lewdest candy store - his mouth and chin and glistening with your juices and it’s clear he couldn’t be prouder of himself.

“One,” he purrs out and you start to laugh a little from how cute he is in your giddy state. You remember in your night together all those years ago, he had also counted your orgasms. It didn’t come off as smug then and it definitely doesn’t now.

He effortlessly raises up to his feet and you let your legs fall from his shoulders to wrap around his waist instead. His hands glide down from your hips to your thighs before he tugs you forward so he's holding you up. He slowly starts to back away from the kitchen and you secure your hold on his shoulders, so you don’t slip as he carries you.

You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him. Your slick tastes tart on his lips, but you don’t care - especially when you can feel him melting into your touch. You keep things slow and languid as he brings you to the couch. You pull away as he gently lays you down, but not fully. Your hands drop to his stomach, and you tug at his shirt, “Off.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

He fluidly pulls it off before crawling over you and boxing your head in with his large arms. You loop yours around his neck again as he dips to kiss you again.

The feral need inside of you has been temporarily satiated, so you can enjoy this slower exploration. Your hands smooth over his neck and back and you cannot believe how muscular he is. His suits do a good job to keep him looking lean so that you often forget how much raw power he holds. You feel like you could get lost in just touching him - tracing along his skin to feel each little freckle and scar.

It seems like he could do the same for you. While keeping one arm down to keep himself held up over you, the other makes its way between you. His hand pushes up under your oversized t-shirt and up to your ribs. You aren’t very ticklish, but you still shudder and arch at his touch. He easily finds your breast and massages it a few times before pinching at your nipple.

You gasp into his mouth, and as he begins to tweak and play with it, you have to turn your head away because you can’t keep up with his kissing.

“So sensitive,” he teases in a whisper. He nips at your ear before starting to make his way down your neck again.

“Feels good,” you reply, trying to not whine, but you are pretty sure you fail.

Matt hums in response before scooting down your body. You hook your legs around his waist as he pushes your shirt up to reveal your breasts, then watch as he bends to take one in his mouth. You close your eyes as he begins to suckle and pleasure washes through you.

You bring a hand up to scratch lightly at the base of his skull as he starts to worship your chest. He is sure to make sure your other nipple isn’t neglected, pinching and flicking at it in time with his tongue. It doesn’t take long for your core to start pulsing and gushing again, but Matt stays focused on his task. He starts to alternate which breast gets the attention of his mouth versus his hand and soon enough you are thinking you can cum again just from this.

You start to squirm and pant under him, but it is when you rock your hips into him that he changes course.

You feel him move and adjust, but you don’t know how, as he never neglects you for a second. Once he is how he needs to be, the hand not already preoccupied slips between the two of you. He runs one finger over your slit, pushing between your labia to coat himself in you. You can’t help but moan at the teasing.

But he doesn’t do it long - as soon as he’s slick, he pushes into you.

His finger is thick, and the stretch feels perfect - it isn’t too much, but a little more might be too uncomfortable. He starts to pump his finger in time with his tongue and all you can do is lay there and take it. You are on the edge of being overwhelmed, but right in the state of bliss.

Praise starts to tumble from your mouth this time, as you keep up scratching at his neck and shoulders.

“Feels so good. Already so close. Please, Matt. Need you.”

Before you even realize you are ready for it, he pushes a second finger into you, and you are nearly seeing stars. You know his cock is big and you need the stretching, especially after so long, but part of you just wants him in you now. He’s always so sweet and he’s not going to hurt you in that way, so you know he’s going to make sure you are ready before fucking you.

But you are still going to be needy about it.

You start to roll your hips, wanting more and more and more. It takes you a few tries to match his pace, but once you do, the buildup is quick. You can feel it in your thighs first, tingling and spasming as your release gets closer.

Matt releases your nipple from his mouth long enough to encourage you, “Cum for me, darling. Cum on my fingers.”

He crooks his fingers as he latches back onto you and you white out. You shake and curl as your orgasm rocks you and Matt doesn’t let up at all. His fingers pump and work your way through it until you cannot take any more stimulus and you have to try and crawl away. He takes pity on you and pulls back and slides his fingers out.

They instantly go into his mouth, and he licks them clean in the most obscene way possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, admiring everything about his physique.

Only once he’s finished his task do you reach for him. Your fingers skate from his chest down his abs until you can grab his boxers and pajama pants. You tug them down enough to free his cock and it is a thing of beauty. It’s thick with a slight curve and one pulsing vein running along it. The head is swollen and red and leaking pre-cum like a faucet. You wrap your fingers around the base and slowly stroke up. Matt’s head rolls back, his lips parting just slightly, and he looks like he is in absolute heaven.

“Didn’t get to taste you last time,” you tease, and you are practically salivating at the idea of having him in your mouth. You want to return all the pleasure he's given you. He needs to be the one to lay back and enjoy your mouth on him.

He groans before rolling forward, so he is hovering over you again. “There will be time for that later, can’t wait for you any longer,” he says in a low voice, and despite his eyes not functioning as they should, you can see the hunger in them.

You more than understand that and lean up to meet him in a kiss. Your hand is still wrapped around him, so you give a few pumps to smear his pre-cum, and as you do, he quietly swears.

“I don’t have a condom.”

The words hit you hard and your eager and horny mind of course throws out the first thing you think, “You already got me pregnant once with one.”

Matt’s nose flares at that and his cock twitches hard in your hand. He swallows thickly before asking, “Are you clean?”

“I am,” you promise. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. Are you?” He gives a jerky nod and when he does, you rub your thumb over his head, teasing the slit, “then I’m okay without one.”

He surges forward to crash into your lips, and you release your hold on him so that he can position himself. You tangle your fingers into his hair again, and to test a little theory, tug at it. He all but moans into your mouth and you can’t help but ask, “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” is his instant reply. It’s his turn to tease when he rubs his cock over your needy cunt. “Bite me, scratch me, do anything you want to me. I’m yours.”

Then he pushes into you and all the thoughts and ideas in your head turn to dust.

Even stretched out, there is still a slight burn, but it feels so wonderful. He starts with slow, shallow thrusts until he is fully inside you, only to settle for a moment. He noses down to your ear and nips at your lobe. He repeats, “I’m yours,” in a low growl before pulling out of you and slamming back in.

The pace he sets isn’t brutal, but it's clear he’s as eager and wanting as you. You drag him back into a kiss, biting at his lips as he gives you exactly what you want - what you need. One hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it but not squeezing. You respond by digging your nails into his shoulder. He hisses into your mouth, but you can tell he likes it by how he reacts.

His other hand grabs you by the hip and tilts your pelvis up so he can drive himself deeper into you. You gasp at the sudden change - his cock is hitting the perfect spot and with each stroke, you feel like you are going to lose your mind and Matt seems to know that. He begins to pepper bites and kisses along your shoulder, sending shocks of pleasure to your core with each one.

Your anxiety is nowhere to be found, so there is nothing to hold you back from clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. You guide him back to your neck, where his bites feel the best, and give breathy pleas. He digs his teeth into you as your third orgasm starts to build.

The arm around his shoulder drops to the couch and you reach for the hand that is holding him up. He allows you to tangle your fingers together and you squeeze his hand as you clench your cunt around him.

“I’m close,” you whimper, just as he starts to lap at your neck.

“Me too,” he pants in reply, “needed you so badly. Need you so badly.” He turns his head to press it hard against your shoulder, and asks the most ridiculous question you’ve ever heard, “do you want me to pull out?”

You shift so you can hook your leg around his waist and dig your heel into the small of his back in response while also tugging hard at his hair.

“Fuck,” he moans into you, instantly starting to pick up his pace to the point the couch is starting to rock, “Yes, I won’t. Fuck.” He starts to chant your name in between swears and you try to use the leverage of your leg to rock your hips to meet his thrusts.

You bite into his shoulder, so you do not cry out as your orgasm takes you by force. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses up and your hips twitch violently and euphoria rushes through you. Matt’s hips sputter once before he buries himself in you.

You lose yourself for a few moments as you quite literally sink into bliss. Your leg relaxes around Matt, sliding down to keep around his thigh as you settle into the couch. He lets go of your hip to allow you to do that, but he follows you down, putting only some of his weight on you like a heavy, warm blanket.

You lessen your grip on his hair so you can begin to give him light scritches and that makes him nuzzle into your neck with a pleased little noise. You return the noise, then use all the effort left in your body to turn your head to kiss his temple and squeeze his hand at the same time.

“Stay like this,” you request. Your eyes are getting heavy, and you don’t fight to keep them open.

“Anything for you, My Queen,” he replies, sounding just as gone as you feel. You manage a chuckle and another kiss to his hairline.

“My sweet knight.”

You fall asleep under Matthew Murdock, your legs, hands, and hearts tangled together.

---

a/n: :3C Next chapter is the zoo.

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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boothillssugarmomma · 6 months ago

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Honka' Honka'

(Boothill x Fem!Reader)

cw-: sweet AF Boothill, clingy Boothill, suggestive a bit, mentions of groping

HC: Boothill's the type a guy to grab your ass and go "honka' honka'"

🎀 authorsnote: I got this head cannon from @edens-sovereign and was given permission to use it!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

It's a gorgeous night aboard The Astral Express...

March 7th is dancing in her room to random music videos she'll definitely pester you with tomorrow. You'll never admit it but secretly you love when she shows you them.

Dan Heng is locked in his room peacefully working on the archives as always. Listening to records on a cute record player you gave him.

Himeko and Welt are sipping on sleep tea in the parlor car as they chat quietly. Trying to fall asleep eventually.

The Trailblazer is in his room, the only one sleeping. Doors locked up and fan on. (YES I SLEEP WITH A FAN 😭)

...yet in your room? While you're TRYING your best to get some sleep...your boyfriend won't stop bugging you.

Boothill wouldn't stop moving and squirming tonight. Wrapping his arms around you, trying to lay on top of you, letting go and sprawling out on the bed taking up your space, hanging off the side of the bed, and to make matters worse...whining...

Finally he sits up and groans deeply.

"It's too fudgin hot!" He whines, pouting as he pokes at your side.

"Seriously?" You sigh as your eyes flutter open. Sitting up as well and glaring at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?" You rub at the space in between your eyebrows.

"...could I have a drink or somethin'...?" He shrugs.

"Right now? Are you kidding me?" You sigh and fold your arms at the cowboy. He scooches closer and wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

Boothill nods, still embracing you in his metals arms as tight as possible. You notice his expression being a bit flustered as he looks directly at you, slightly pouting again.

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' 'bout it for a bit now!" He whines in your ear as he tries to hold back his urge to move around more, but his metal twitches slightly from his legs and up to his arm

"And 's gettin' worse the more I look at ya...."

"Yeah...ok mister sweet talker... you're just trying to get me to get up and grab it for you..." You huff before looking away.

You can feel his eyes boreing into the back of your head and you bite your bottom lip. Letting out a defeated groan you turn your head back to him.

"Fine..." You sigh softly as you get out of bed and leave the room, turning down the hallway towards the Expresses kitchen to grab something for him.

As you go to the kitchen, Boothill immediately grabs your body pillow and hugs it close to his chest, wrapping not just his arms but also his legs around it.

He still couldn't contain his restless demeanor. If anyone were to see him like this, they would be pretty convinced the man was an overgrown child

He's waiting for you desperately, constantly rubbing the pillow in his embrace. It's as if the pillow was a surrogate for you, his thoughts fixated solely on you.

He waits patiently for a minute, then two, then three, then four, five, six, seven...where the hell were you?

As the minutes kept passing, so did his patience. And eventually his patience was reaching its breaking point.

He tried to distract himself by looking outside the window, watching the stars and the solar system.

But he couldn't fully divert his attention, his mind constantly wandering back to what the hell was taking you so long

Finally unable to hold back, his restlessness took him over. He leapt off the bed, pacing back and forth in your room like an abandoned puppy. His footsteps heavy and impatient.

"What oil do you like again?" You hum as you walk back in the room, holding a few oil cans.

Boothill's eyes immediately lit up at the sight of you, and he couldn't help but rush towards you, his arms wrapping around you with a mix of excitement and desperation.

You tsk your tongue as you almost drop a can due to the impact. But stop as he buried his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin

"Any is fine at this point!" He said, his voice muffled. He pulled away slightly, looking at you with pleading eyes, a small pout on his lips. "Please sweetheart, just gimme the can..."

"Here, here hon..." You chuckle softly as you press a kiss to his jaw.

At the kiss on his jaw, a shiver ran down his spine, and a low groan escaped his lips. Boothill leaned into your touch, his breath slightly hitching as he felt your breath caress his skin. His hands tightened their hold on you, his thumb gently tracing circles on your waist

"Ah... I've missed you." He said, his voice a mixture of relief and longing as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. The tension in his body began to melt away, replaced with a sense of contentment and warmth.

"I was literally gone for a half hour..." You roll your eyes playfully as he sucks on the cans straw.

Boothill just shrugs at that, not paying attention anymore as he continues to lay his hand on your hip and drink his drink.

His eyes wander down as your head is pressed into his neck still. Peeking over your head and down to your waist he smirks at an evil idea.

As his hand moves down, a mischievous smile plays on his lips as he feels the soft curve of your ass. He gave it a gentle double squeeze, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh as he brought his mouth closer to your ear, his breath hot against your ear

"Honka' honka'..." Your boyfriend smirks deviously.

Your mouth drops open, obviously shocked at what he just did and said. "Boothill!"

"Can't help it darlin'...wanna feel how soft ya' are..." He whispered, his voice husky with desire before dropping it and humming. "Well...if I could."

"But still!" You smack his arm playfully and roll your eyes before nuzzling into his neck again.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your playful reaction. "What...just showin' my 'preciation!"

He tilted his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. His hand continued its exploration, gently running up and down your side, his touch both possessive and affectionate.

His mind was a mix of desire and love for you, if he had a heart it would definitely be thumping in his chest...

"Show your appreciation another time..." You mumble with a blush on your face. Trying to nuzzle deeper into his neck to hide your dusty red face.

Boothill took notice of your flushed face and chuckled, his eyes starting to gleaming with amusement.

"Heh, who knew ya' could be so shy?" He teased playfully, a knowing smirk on his lips. "But alright, I'll hold back...for now sweet pea~" He said, his voice filled with a hint of mock resignation as he held you closer.

"...are you done with your drink yet...it's so late..." Nudging your boyfriend with your finger, a small yawn slips out.

Seeing you yawn, Boothill smiled softly and shook his head. "Ah right, forgot that you need your beauty sleep..." He drawls, his hand gently caressing your cheek and then moving a lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering at your earlobe for a moment.

"You look perfect even when yur' tired..." He whispers, his voice filled with warmth and love. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before gently coaxing you back to the bed.

Walking over to the bed you flop down on it, cuddling up to your pillow and under your blanket.

Boothill watches you with a fond smile as you crawl back into bed, a sense of protectiveness washing over him.

He quickly joined you after he set his drink on the nightstand, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His legs tangled with yours as he sought to be as close to you as possible.

He rests his chin on top of your head, his machinery whirring steady and soothing against your back.

He lets out a content sigh, his fingers gently massaging your scalp, the touch light and intimate with a hint of cold. He felt like he was finally at peace...

"I love you honey..." You whisper sleepily, drooling a bit on his chest.

Boothill swears if he had a heart it would swell with the words you say. His expression softens even more if that's possible as he holds you tighter. "I love you too" He whispers softly, the sincerity in his voice is soothing to you.

He gently presses a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers still gently stroking your hair. The moonlight streams in through the window, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies.

Closing his eyes, he lets the peacefulness of the moment wash over him as he holds you close, content in the embrace of your love...

Even if he can't exactly feel you...he knows deep down if doesn't matter...your love does.

🎀End🎀

#honkai star rail #fanfic #honkai sr #hsr #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #honkai star rail smut #boothill #boothill fanfic #boothill x you #boothill x y/n

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coff33andb00ks · 3 months ago

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Rule Breaker - Pt 8

pairing:max Verstappen x single mom!reader x logan sargeant {masterlist}{prev} {next} warnings: cursing, minimally proofread, smut (minors DNI) Summary: you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own word count: 7.5k auth.note: smut gods have returned to me all hail spotify: i made a playlist taglist: to be added to this or my other taglists, use this form

"Ahh." The sigh was accompanied by a happy grin as he leaned back, his eyes closed against the sun.

Y/n snorted on a laugh. "Living the life, huh, doodle bug?" she teased, watching him tuck his arms behind his head.

"Uh huh." Kevin wrinkled his nose when she reached to rub more sunscreen on his face. "When Mister Logan gets here can we go in the water?"

"Of course, you know he promised to take you in." She personally didn't venture far past where the waves broke. At least Kevin was content to play in the sand until Logan came down, which should be soon.

"He's not afraid of the water," Kevin said, sitting up so she could apply sunscreen to his ears and neck.

"Nope, he's not," she murmured, squeezing the cream onto his hand so he could rub it into his arms. "Mama's not afraid, either. I'm just afraid of what's in the water."

Kevin giggled, flopping back on the blanket like a starfish. "Just fishes, mama!"

"Ugh, and jellyfish and seaweed and crabs and—" She shuddered dramatically, smoothing his sun shirt and helping herself to a drink from the cooler before settling back in her beach chair, content to sit under the umbrella and watch the waves.

They'd arrived in North Carolina late the night before. Kevin had invited Logan to the family beach trip and she'd been surprised when he'd said he would love to go, having assumed he wanted to spend the summer break with his own family. And then she'd worried that it was too soon to introduce him to her parents, that it was pushing things into the serious category. And then—

"Jesus christ, y/n, take the boy and have fun."

Ellie's words rang in her mind and she gave her head a little shake. She didn't know why she'd worried. Her family seemed to like him. Her dad and uncle had invited him to go fishing with them after talking to him for five minutes, and they'd taken him down to their favorite shop to get him the gear.

She wondered what they'd say when they found out she was also dating the grote maat Mister Max that Kevin kept talking about.

"Y/n!"

Turning, she saw her mom coming along the boardwalk from the cottage. She half stood, then groaned when she noticed the phone she was carrying. "I'm on vacation," she whined even though her mom couldn't hear her. Next to her, Kevin giggled.

"Might be Aunt Ellie?" he asked, staying on the blanket as she snorted and crossed the sand to meet her mom at the bottom of the steps down the dune.

"Someone named Max keeps calling you," her mom said, handing over the phone.

Frowning, she took the phone and squinted at it in the sunlight. "I should call him back—"

"Go on, I'll sit with Kevin. Your dad just texted me, they're on the way back now." Her mom patted her shoulder and headed across the sand.

Worried that something might be wrong, she jogged up the steps and to the cottage, breathing a sigh as soon as she was inside and could see the screen properly. Seven missed calls, two voicemails. Her heart thudded as she saw his most recent text – Call me please – and she did so immediately, pacing on the screened in porch of the second level.

"What's wrong?" she blurted as soon as the call connected.

Max let out a breath. "Wrong?"

"You've called me seven times."

"Yes. I need directions."

She held her breath and pressed her lips together. It had only been two days and it was so nice to hear his voice, but she couldn't focus on that right now. "Directions."

"Well, an address would be better."

"Do I look like Google maps?" she huffed.

Max laughed. "Didn't you listen to my voicemails or read the texts?"

Muttering a curse, she pulled the phone from her ear and went to her texts.

I need to meet with Logan and don't have his number.

I'm in the States, coming your way. It's important. Call me?

Y/n, where's the beach place? All I know is OBX and I need an address.

"You're coming here?!" she yelped, pressing the phone to her ear again.

"Yes…"

"What's going on? Why do you need to talk to Logan?" she asked.

"I'll explain everything when I get there."

"Is it bad?" She couldn't help but worry.

"No, I promise it's not bad. It's about next year."

Her heart dropped at the thought of next year, because she knew Logan didn't have a seat. But Max said it wasn't bad? Her heart lifted, lodging in her throat. "Do you know something?"

He groaned. "I just landed in… Currituck?"

"Oh my god," she gasped. "You're really here?"

"I'm really here." And she could hear the gentle smile in his voice.

"I'll text you the address." She rubbed a hand over her face. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm sorry, schatje."

Just like that, he was forgiven. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Can't wait," he murmured.

Ending the call, she texted him the cottage's address, torn between giddiness and anxiety. Kevin would be so happy. She was so happy. Logan would be—

Logan.

Calling him, she waited for Max's acknowledgment of her text, unable to keep the smile from her face as the thumbs up emoji appeared.

"Hey babe, we're like two minutes away," Logan greeted. He sounded so relaxed and happy it made her heart want to sing.

"Clingy!" her uncle's voice rang out in the background.

Rolling her eyes, she couldn't help but laugh. "I just talked to Max."

"Yeah? He good?"

"Um… He's on his way here."

There was a beat of silence, though she could hear her father and uncle yapping in the background. "Wait, really?" Logan asked. "Why?"

"He said he has to meet with you. He—" She pulled the phone away to glance at the text from Max. "He'll be here in about forty-five minutes. All he said is it's about next year."

"Nothing's happened, has it?" he asked softly.

"He said it isn't bad," she promised, hearing his breath of relief.

"I— Shit, we're here, see you in a sec."

She laughed and ended the call, hearing the slamming of truck doors. After glancing out at the beach to see her mom and Kevin chasing the waves across the sand, she made her way to the back of the cottage and down to the ground level, squealing softly when Logan wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the bottom step.

"You look so hot," he murmured before giving her a kiss.

"It's like ninety degrees out, of course—"

"You know what I mean," he groaned, kissing her again as he set her down on the cement.

"Gross," her dad muttered.

Wrinkling her nose, she ignored her father and smiled up at Logan. "Did you get your gear?"

"Yeah, I'll show you later? Gonna change and hit the water with Kev before Max shows up," he murmured. There was worry in his eyes, though, and she squeezed his hand before going back up the stairs and inside to the bedroom they shared, grabbing a hair tie to fix her messy bun. Logan reached around her to put his wallet on the dresser and she saw the hair tie around his wrist, where he'd put it the week before. Every time she saw it she felt the need to hug him and settled for patting his arm for now, smiling when he dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

"He promised it isn't bad," she reminded him as he pulled a pair of board shorts from his suitcase.

"I know, but…" He sighed.

"Babe," she murmured, waiting for him to look at her. "We're on vacation, remember? No stress."

"No stress," he agreed with a nod. "You coming down to the beach?"

She nodded, picking up her phone and setting a timer so she could be on the lookout for Max. "Can't miss Kev's first dip of the summer."

"Your dad pointed out a miniature golf place on the way back," he said as they headed out. "I was thinking we could go one day while we're here? Seems like something Kev would enjoy."

"He'd love that. And maybe hit one of the go-kart tracks?"

Logan's face lit. "They've got karting?"

"Calm down, it's regular people karting," she laughed.

Thanking the driver again, Max shouldered his backpack and glanced warily at the house, trying to decipher where the entrance was. It was built on stilts, two trucks parked beneath the house, two SUVs parked to the side. About to pull out his phone to call y/n, he heard a door slam and looked up, smiling at the sight of her in a bikini leaning over the railing of the porch above.

"You really flew here to see Logan?" she called down and he had to laugh.

Because it sounded so ridiculous, him flying all the way to America to talk to Logan. A conversation that could easily have been done over the phone. Or FaceTime. And yet…

He'd wanted to see them. All three of them.

She was walking to the end of the porch and he finally saw the stairs going up. Even though he was exhausted from the flight and the wait for the second flight and the drive down to her family's vacation home he moved quickly, surprised at how happy he was to see her again even though it had only been a few days.

"Hey," she murmured when they met at the halfway point of the stairs.

"Schatje," he sighed, dropping his suitcase as she wrapped her arms around him. Sunkissed skin was warm beneath his hands and he sighed, breathing in cocoa butter and watermelon. He wished the kiss could have lasted longer and relished every second of it, still awed at each physical touch from her after so many weeks of stolen hugs and lingering kisses.

"Logan's in the water with Kevin," she told him as she led him upstairs and into the house. "You can change in our room – you can't go on the beach in jeans."

He scoffed at that, following her down the hallway and into a bedroom while she told him the cottage had six bedrooms, four bathrooms, a ground level apartment that they only used for storage and laundry, and the upper level was where the living, dining, and kitchen were, along with another bedroom suite and a sun deck.

"Your family owns it?" he asked, setting his backpack down as he glanced around, seeing evidence that she and Logan had spent time in the room. Seeing her nod, he looked around again. "It's quite expensive, isn't it?"

"I don't know the details, my grandparents bought it back in the 1980s… My mom said a few years ago it was assessed at around two million. Why?"

"I didn't know you were rich," he teased.

Her jaw dropped. "We're not!"

"It's not a bad thing, schatje."

"I'm not rich. Neither are my parents. They both work, and they rent this out year-round to pay the taxes and the upkeep and…" She narrowed her eyes and huffed out a breath. "I'm not gonna defend my family against a man who owns his own jet."

Laughing, he reached to unbuckle his belt, hesitating only briefly.

She cleared her throat. "Come on upstairs and I'll introduce you once you've changed? Then we can hit the beach?"

He nodded, waiting until she'd left and closed the door before taking off his jeans. They hadn't been intimate, yet, and he had decided he wasn't going to ask her about it or even mention it. Their relationship was far from traditional, far from anything he'd ever experienced. They'd agreed to keep things as private and almost secretive as possible because he was still worried she could lose her job, and though he wanted to be open about it, to casually mention on a stream or in a conversation – can't make it, going to dinner with y/n – he found he didn't mind holding it close. The only people that knew were Logan, y/n, and himself. And Kevin, because even before he'd admitted to himself that he wanted to be more than just friends with her the boy had pointedly said—

"You like mama."

If only Kevin knew the half of it.

After changing he made his way upstairs, hearing y/n's voice along with others. The stairwell led into a large open living area and he paused, enjoying the familial scene of y/n stirring something in a pot while a woman who looked like a slightly older version of her sat on a stool at the counter, writing something down. Another woman was sitting next to her, pointing out things in a grocery store sales paper.

The top stair creaked, and all three women turned to look at Max.

"Oh hello," the woman writing gave him a warm smile as she set the pen down and slid off the stool. "You must be Max."

"Yeah, that's me," he greeted, glancing at y/n.

Y/n put the lid on the pot and walked over and made the introductions. Max couldn't help but notice she'd put an oversized shirt on over her bikini and so he kept his expression neutral, understanding without her telling him that her family was unaware they were more than just friends.

"We're so happy to have you, Kevin won't shut up about you," y/n's mother said with a grin. "Y/n said you came all this way to talk to Logan?"

"Yes… I won't intrude for long," he began.

"Oh no honey you're not intruding at all. You'll have to stay a few days." She patted his shoulder. "We've got plenty of room."

Max got the feeling that if he tried to decline he'd be ignored so he merely smiled and nodded, thanking her even though she was already walking away, telling y/n's aunt that they would go to the store after she made the bed for him. Glancing to y/n, he rolled his eyes when she merely shrugged.

"Better get you to the beach before she has you staying here the whole summer break," she muttered, leading him through the living area to the open sliding glass door that led out onto a sunny deck. "Mom, we're going to the beach so he can see Logan and Kevin."

"Alright – send me a text if there's anything he can't or won't eat," her mother called after them. "We're gonna get some groceries."

"I'll introduce you to my dad and uncle later, they went down to the pier," y/n assured him, closing the door.

Glancing in the direction she pointed, Max could just make out the pier and nodded, following her down another set of stairs and past an outdoor shower. She pointed out the covered porch on the lower level, mentioning a hot tub then led him along the boardwalk over the dune.

"It's not St. Tropez or the Bahamas," she said as they stood at the top of the steps, both watching Logan lift Kevin above the cresting waves at the shoreline. "But it's…"

Max nodded, lightly brushing her fingers with his. "It's special to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "It is."

"Then it's beautiful," he said, watching a small wave crash over Kevin, smiling when he heard the boy's delighted squeals.

"Oh, Max," she sighed. He barely caught it before the wind took it away, but he knew he would hold onto the glimmer in her eye for the rest of his life.

"Mister Max!" Kevin shrieked.

He was dripping wet and half covered in sand by the time Max got to him but he scooped him up regardless, grinning as the boy hugged his neck tightly. "I missed you too, kleine maat," he promised. "You're having fun, hm?"

Kevin nodded vigorously, water spraying from his curly hair. "We took the plane and Mister Logan got us ice cream and Mama slept while Mister Logan drived us! And Nana cooked us hot dogs at midnight! And I'm goin' fishin' with Papa and Uncle Mike and Mister Logan!"

"I can't wait to see how many fish you catch." Max hugged him back, nodding when Kevin asked if they could build a sandcastle one day.

"I gotta pee," Kevin announced.

"I told him to go in the water," Logan said with a chuckle, shaking water from his hair.

"Ew." Kevin sounded disgusted and Max grinned, handing him over to his mother.

"C'mon, let's get to the bathroom," she sighed, settling him on her hip before sharing a look with Logan and Max.

"We'll get the stuff, babe," Logan promised.

Max watched her walk back towards the cottage, waiting until they disappeared from his view before turning to Logan. The smile had faded from his face and he sighed. "It's not bad, mate."

"You flew halfway around the world without warning, Max, what am I supposed to think?" Logan sighed harshly. "Did you hear something? I already know Carlos has my spot—"

"It's not about him," he assured, walking with him to the beach chairs and umbrella, wordlessly helping him shake the sand from the towels and stuff them into the bag. "It's Checo."

Logan jerked his head up, brow furrowing as he grabbed the shirt from the back of one of the chairs. "Checo?"

"You can't tell—"

The other man nodded. "A soul, I know."

"His contract renewal is being canceled. It might already be, I haven't checked in with Christian since I landed." He'd been too focused on getting here. On seeing them. Max watched him pull the shirt over his head, smiling faintly at the Red Bull emblem now over his chest.

"Really? I thought…" Logan combed his fingers through his hair.

Shrugging, he watched droplets of seawater trickle down Logan's neck and unconsciously licked his lips. "His performance is lacking. Resting on his laurels, Christian said."

"So who's gonna replace him?" Logan reached to lower the umbrella and Max belatedly pulled a chair over to fold it.

"I don't know. They're thinking Daniel. It's not a hundred percent guaranteed."

"You came out all this way just to tell me this?" Logan looked confused.

"No, I came to tell you that—" Max finally got the chair folded and let it drop onto the sand. "I know Daniel will take the seat. It might not be fully decided, but Christian wants him, I want him, and I know he'll gladly come back to the team."

Logan nodded, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "I'm happy for him. He was great in Red Bull."

"Yeah—"

"What's this gotta do with me?"

And Max knew it had to happen. That he had to do everything in his power, short of threatening to tear up his own contract, to make what he was about to say come true. "I talked to Christian last night. He's got a good relationship with Laurent, and… Well, I told him you deserve Daniel's spot."

The umbrella fell over. "You what?"

"I told him—"

"Do you really think that?" Logan asked softly.

Max rubbed the back of his neck, finally nodding. "Well, yeah. You just need a good team, mate."

Logan smiled. Above the sound of the wind and the waves Max heard his breath stutter and swallowed hard. "I really appreciate it, Max. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he assured him. "I'll message Christian, tell him you're interested. That's all I can do."

"That's more than most people would do for me." Smiling, Logan reached out and Max was being hugged. He faltered at first, not expecting the touch, but quickly recovered, returning the embrace. Logan chuckled, apologizing for being wet.

Max shook his head, finding he didn't mind that the hug lasted longer than it really should have. "It's fine."

"Are you staying?" The question came as they walked back to the cottage.

"Her mum didn't even ask, she just told me I have to stay a few days." Max opened his mouth to apologize for barging in on their time together, but Logan's next words stopped him.

"That's good, mate, we love having you around."

He mulled that over while he followed Logan to the ground level apartment, glancing around at the accumulation of years of family beach time. Floaties, chairs, umbrellas, beach toys. Bins were labeled and stacked in an attempt at organization but it was a bit messy, like a family should be. Handing over the towels when Logan led him into the laundry room, he cleared his throat. "Do you?"

"Huh?"

"Love having me around," he mumbled.

"Well, yeah." Logan gave him a grin, tossing the towels into the washer and peeling off his shirt. "It's like… I don't know, probably sounds weird."

"We're both dating the same woman, mate, can't get weirder than that."

Logan's laugh made the chill, damp room seem warm and bright. "True. But it's like… It feels complete when you're with us. You know what I mean?"

He did but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I love being with her. And Kev. They…" Logan paused, pulling a clean towel from the basket on top of the dryer. "They mean the world to me."

Max nodded. He knew that feeling very well. "Then—"

"And you just…" He shrugged, and Max looked away when he reached to take off his wet shorts. "You balance us out, you know?"

"I know," he whispered, waiting until he heard the lid of the washer clang shut before looking back at him, wondering why he was almost disappointed to see the towel wrapped around his hips. "I know what you mean, mate."

"It's weird, huh?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "But I kind of like it."

The words echoed back to him in Logan's voice and his breath caught as their eyes met. Logan looked surprised too and they both stared at one another. Max knew he should say something – anything – but he couldn't think of a thing to say. At least, nothing that would change the subject.

"I need you to get that seat next season. For you. For y/n. For Kevin. For us."

"Us," Logan repeated.

Was this how she felt when Logan looked into her eyes? Breathless and a little shaky and body thrumming with anticipation? Or was she used to it now? Did Logan feel it, too? Or had he gone completely insane in the past three months? He nodded. "Us. Th-the four of us. Or the two of us – I mean. Fuck, I know what I mean. You're not stupid, you know what I mean too."

"I know." Barely a whisper. "I just didn't know you felt it, too."

Too. "How long?" he asked softly.

Logan swallowed. "I dunno. Since you started talking to me more. Maybe Montreal, when I could tell you didn't care I wanted to hang out with you and Kev."

He wanted to ask why he hadn't said anything. But he already knew because he hadn't said anything for the same reasons. Logan was bad at talking about his feelings, and Max wasn't much better. Especially feelings like this, that he knew would be ridiculed by some people around them. "It's not… Weird?"

A smile that crinkled his eyes and Max barely heard the words. "Yeah, but I kind of like it."

Her family liked Max. She'd known they would, known his wit and laidback attitude would charm them, not to mention the way he doted on Kevin. Her mother did give her a look when Kevin slipped and called Max Daddy again, but she was able to avoid that possibly awkward conversation by putting away groceries then taking Kevin to the beach to build a sandcastle with Max, then putting him down for a nap and taking a shower and then it was time to start dinner and she slipped away to enjoy a couple drinks up on the sun deck with guys. Her dad talked about fishing and when he mentioned doing one of the deep-sea fishing tours Max voiced an interest. The next thing she knew she was trailing behind the four men back inside, bewildered as they crowded around her uncle's laptop to pull up the website and book a boat at the end of the week.

"As long as you don't mind me staying longer than a couple days," Max said.

"Naw, of course not." This from Uncle Mike. "You're a good kid."

She knew she was grinning like a fool, and it only widened when Max glanced up to smile at her.

"Yeah he's alright," Logan said, grinning and throwing an arm around Max's shoulders and squeezing.

Oh. She lifted an eyebrow at that and saw Max's cheeks turn pink before he ducked his head again, and decided that was another delayed conversation. Finishing her drink, she hummed softly as she carried the bottle to the sink to rinse it before tossing it into the recycling bin and checking the marinara sauce. "I'm gonna go check on Kev," she told her mom, who nodded.

As if summoned, Kevin came shuffling up the stairs, dragging his blanket and stuffed Snoopy along with him. His hair was a wild mess of curls and his cheeks were pink from being in the sun earlier, and when he saw that Max was still there he grinned, ignoring her completely in favor of Max and Logan. She felt her heart turn to mush as the two men spoke gently to him, asking about his nap and if he'd gone potty, was he hungry for dinner, all while Max fixed his blanket and Logan shifted him so he was tucked between them on the couch.

Her mom hummed softly, giving her a smile.

Her aunt was less reserved. "So nice of your boyfriend's boyfriend to join us," she said softly.

"Carol!" her mom squawked, slapping her with a dishtowel.

"Oh like you weren't thinking it," Carol huffed, rolling her eyes. "Mike, the salad."

"Yep, I'm coming – here, finish this reservation for us," Mike said, pushing the laptop to Max. "Use this card."

Y/n pretended not to notice that Max used his own card. Shooed from the kitchen, she joined him and Kevin on the couch when Logan insisted on helping fix the salad. "Deep-sea fishing, huh?"

"I'm not a fisher, but I think it'll be fun, yeah?" He left the laptop open on the confirmation screen, leaning to set it on the coffee table.

"What's dipsy fishing?" Kevin asked.

Max laughed softly, smoothing his unruly curls as he explained. When Kevin said he wanted to go, Max was gentle but firm that he wasn't quite big enough just yet.

When he promised to take him as soon as he was big enough, y/n knew nothing and no one in the world would stop him. Because Max kept his promises.

"Okay," Kevin murmured, giving him a hug before sliding down, saying he was going to pee.

Max leaned back with a soft sigh. "I spoke to Logan."

"Will you tell me?" she asked.

"You'll find out soon enough, but…" He sighed again, and she listened in surprise and fascination as he told her about Checo, about Daniel, about him pushing Christian to suggest Logan for Daniel's vacancy.

"Oh Max," she whispered, touching his arm briefly. She couldn't hug him – aunt Carol might have teased about Max being Logan's boyfriend, but she knew her hugging him would raise questions she wasn't sure she knew the answer to just yet. So she squeezed his arm, knew by the way he nodded that he understood. If he were anyone else she would question his motives, maybe even accuse him of trying to help Logan as a way to impress her, but she knew Max well enough to know he wouldn't stand up for Logan if he didn't believe in him as a driver.

"Don't cry, schatje," he whispered, lightly patting her thigh.

"I won't," she mumbled despite feeling the sting in her eyes.

"Go check on Kevin," he suggested.

She nodded, getting to her feet and heading to the bathroom, knowing it was his way of making sure no one noticed her tears if and when they fell. Her son was just finishing up and she fixed his shorts, dabbing a little of her mom's aloe vera onto his pink cheeks. It pulled her mind off her emotions and she washed her hands, feeling relatively normal when she began setting the table.

Dinner was leisurely and filled with chatter and laughter, Kevin telling his grandparents about the race tracks he'd been to, though his stories revolved around the animals he'd seen as opposed to the actual races. Max and Logan took turns asking her parents questions about themselves and when they both set their forks down to listen to her father talk about growing up on a farm she knew they'd won him over. And when Max insisted he and Logan take care of the dishes she was certain her mom and aunt fell in love a little bit.

After dinner her parents went for a walk on the beach and her aunt and uncle went to a local bar. Kevin was content to watch a movie, still obviously tired from spending most of the day on the beach, and Logan stretched out on the couch with him. She could tell that the jet lag was getting to Max so she went down to move his suitcase and backpack into the bedroom across from the one she and Logan were sharing. He followed her a few moments later, and she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning in the doorway as she turned on the lamp.

"Are you going to tuck me in, too?" he asked with a smile.

She rolled her eyes, smiling as she crossed to him. "Don't you think you're a little too old to be tucked in?"

He scoffed softly, stepping into the room and winding his arm around her waist. "Will you stay with me a bit?"

"Of course."

She sat on the bed, getting comfortable and leaning against the pillows while he undressed to his boxer briefs and pulled on a clean t-shirt. He filled her in on how Jimmy and Sassy were doing then went into the ensuite with his toiletry bag, returning after a couple minutes and practically collapsing onto the bed next to her. She reached to smooth her hand over his head. "Still can't believe you flew fourteen hours for something that could have been a phone call."

Max smiled, idly tracing her knee with one finger, shifting so his head rested in her lap. "It could have been, but…"

She stayed silent, continuing to run her fingers through his short hair. Simply enjoying the quiet moment alone with him. Usually they were strained, a time limit set in place because a million things were waiting to be done. Feeling him relax, she unfolded her legs, smiling when he turned so he could look up at her.

Oh how she adored his eyes. How they could change from crystal clear to the deep of the ocean that was so close to them. She had been so foolish, thinking them just a normal blue, when they held all the shades and hues of the skies and seas that she loved. And the more she looked into them the more she saw the emotions.

They shone with vulnerability right now.

"I've grown used to you being close by," he whispered. "Is it too soon to say that?"

"No, I don't think so," she murmured. "I don't want to think about having to follow a specific timeline in a relationship."

"Figure it out as we go, right?" His smile chased the fear from his eyes.

"Are we figuring it out?" she asked softly, though she thought she knew the answer.

"I think we already did."

There was a soft knock on the door and she sighed at the interruption.

"Yeah?" Max called softly.

The door opened and Logan leaned in, a half-sleep Kevin on his shoulder. "Someone wants to say goodnight."

Y/n began to slide to the edge of the bed as Max sat up. "I'll ta—"

"I've got him, babe, it's okay." Logan brought Kevin over, motioning for her to sit back as he passed Kevin to Max.

Max hummed, and she immediately relaxed. He exchanged goodnights with Kevin and she felt her heart filling with warmth as the boy hugged him tightly, whispering love you before shuffling over to her.

"Goodnight sweetheart," she whispered, hugging him close and peppering his face with kisses. "Love you so much."

"G'night mama, love you." Kevin kissed her cheek then crawled over to Logan.

All she could feel was peace in that moment and she leaned back against the pillows, watching the way Logan held her son. Gently. Protectively.

Lovingly.

He leaned down, giving her a gentle kiss. "I'm gonna go to bed, too. Your dad wants to leave early."

"I'll be in in a little while," she whispered.

"No rush," he promised with a quick smile.

She turned onto her side while he and Max exchanged goodnights, noticing the way Logan hesitated as if he wanted a little something more. She also noticed that Max gave another, softer, goodnight right before Logan turned to leave, and met his gaze when he settled next to her again as the door clicked shut.

"What?" he murmured.

"My boyfriend's boyfriend."

His cheeks turned pink. "I'm not… He's… It's not that."

"I don't know, you did fly halfway around the world to see him," she teased, giggling when he threw his arm over her waist and dragged her close.

"Careful, schatje, you're starting to sound jealous," he murmured against her lips.

"Of my boyfriends dating each other? Never." She felt his arm tighten around her and didn't mind when he pulled her closer.

"Not dating," he breathed.

"Flirting?" She shifted even closer, moaning softly as his leg slid between hers.

The muscles in his thigh twitched and he hummed, his kiss deepening briefly. "Maybe… Is… Is that okay?"

"Figuring it out," she reminded him.

"Figuring it out," he echoed before kissing her again. His hand came up, cradling her jaw as their bodies moved, and she didn't want it to stop, didn't want either of them to pull away. To her relief he didn't. His fingers tangled gently in her hair, his other hand trailing down her side.

She moved, thighs falling open so he could press closer while her hands slipped beneath the hem of his t-shirt, the feel of his skin beneath her fingers exhilarating and comforting as she traced the planes of his back. "Max," she breathed, one hand cupping the back of his head. This was the time when one of them pulled back and she parted her lips to beg him not to.

Then he whispered her name like it was a prayer. A plea.

Nodding, she leaned up for another kiss, body arching into his touch. His fingertips ignited a flame in her skin and she gasped against his lips, sitting up with him, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he could ease her tank top over her head. Eyes locked with his, she carefully pushed his t-shirt up. There was a brief pause once his shirt joined hers on the floor then he was kissing her again.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he mumbled after guiding her down and leaning back to stare at her.

Flushed with desire under his heated gaze, she licked her lips, shivering as his hand swept up her arm. His fingers danced over her collarbone then moved lower and she arched again, nipples hardening before he stroked the curve of her breast. His soft moan was pure sex and she brought her hands up to his neck, eager for his kiss.

He lowered his mouth to her breast instead. Kissing, licking, suckling gently until whines began to claw up her throat. He released her nipple and immediately turned to give the other the same treatment, his fingers lightly pinching and rolling the stiff peak to keep her squirming.

"Max," she gasped, an aching hunger forming deep inside her.

His lips were over hers in an instant, his hands moving to rest lightly at her hips, steadying her. His kiss was almost frenzied, his grip tightening each time she wriggled impatiently, and when her fingers dragged down to the waistband of his boxer briefs he let out a guttural moan. "I was planning to take my time," he mumbled, thumbs lightly stroking her hips before hooking in the band of her shorts.

"We can do that next time."

He groaned, nipping at her bottom lip. Then he was leaning back again, dragging her shorts and panties down, and she watched his tongue dart over his lips while he looked her over. "You really are beautiful, schatje," he whispered, palms brushing up her legs, fingers dancing lightly along her thighs. Her lips parted to speak but all that came out was a gasping moan when he cupped her. He stroked and teased, eyes wild and dark, until she could feel his fingers were slick, until she was trembling, and then—

"Max," she whined, hips pushing upwards and head falling back as his fingers rubbed small circles against her clit. She clutched at his sides, his forearms, and finally gripped the sheets, fingers twisting in the soft cotton while his fingers continued the delicious torment. So caught up in the pleasure, it didn't register that he was moving until he guided one leg over his shoulder. His breath was pure fire, his tongue molten lava replacing his fingers.

She forced her head upright, breath catching in her throat when she was met with his intense gaze. He rubbed and squeezed her thigh, moaning occasionally, his tongue dancing rapidly over her clit. Her last shred of self-control reminded her she couldn't be loud and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her sharp squeal. Her other hand dropped, curling tightly in his hair, and she was rewarded with a low growl from him, his hands splaying on her thighs as his tongue danced faster.

Her eyes widened and she nodded, holding her hand tightly over her mouth as her entire body burned, feeling weak with need. She moaned raggedly against her palm, heart racing in her chest. Pulling away her hand long enough to gasp out a new plea. "Don't stop…"

She felt him smirk and barely turned her head to stifle her sharp squeal with the pillow. Already close, she let her hips rock slowly, trying to focus on all the sensations and not just his tongue. His fingers digging into her thighs. The muscles of his back flexing beneath her foot. The scruff of his beard scraping her sensitive flesh. His breath pouring over her like a steaming waterfall. She squealed again then snatched in a breath and held it, back arching off the bed as she came, the pleasure so intense she could only let out a shaky, whining gasp.

He hummed, his tongue easing slightly, dragging out the delight, and when her body shuddered he slowed, his moan vibrating through her as he gently licked her clean. With a breathless chuckle he pressed kisses to her trembling thighs then crawled up, hands tender on her cheeks.

Y/n murmured his name, cupping his wrists and relishing the moment of tenderness as he stayed over her, the heat of his body calming her shivers. Tasting herself on his lips and tongue, she groaned softly, tongue darting out for a deeper taste while her hands slowly traveled down.

"I don't have a condom," he groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder.

She did but they were across the hall, and she knew that if she made that mad dash one of her family members would suddenly appear and ask her what the hell she was doing. Her mind scrambled, fingers frozen just above his boxer briefs then she licked her lips. "I'm on the pill, and you can pull out?"

Max released a questioning hum. "Are you sure?"

"I want – I need you," she breathed.

With a groan he lifted his head, eyes searching hers for a moment before he shifted, hands reaching to help her push his boxer briefs down. His soft hiss as her hand wrapped around his cock was more erotic than any other sound she could imagine in that moment and she hummed encouragingly, exploring the length and girth with her fingers. Until his hand covered hers and he moaned harshly against her lip, "I won't make it inside you if you keep doing that."

A giggle bubbled up her throat, dying on a whine as he settled more firmly between her thighs. His hand trembled slightly over hers then grabbed at her thigh, their breathless gasps mingling as she guided him along her slit. She wanted to draw it out until they were both begging but her desire won out and she moved her hand to his hip, nails digging into his skin as he pressed into her.

"Fuck," she moaned, hips rolling up to meet him.

His eyes were more intense than ever before and she felt the shudder ripple through his body while he kept still for several long seconds. "Y/n…"

It was a delicate mix of longing and need. She returned it with an eager nod, grabbing his shoulders to hold onto him as the slowness and gentleness melted away.

Frantic. Pure lust with dashes of tenderness. Each time her lips parted to make a sound his claimed them, muffling and swallowing each noise. The heat consumed her, and he was there, grounding her with his firm hold, his thrusts steady and unfaltering.

"So good," she gasped, lifting her leg higher against his waist.

"I know, I know," he moaned as he hooked his arm beneath her leg, angling her hips slightly.

The scant change sent the tip of his cock directly over her spot and she threw back her head, nails raking down his back and eliciting a sharp hiss from him. "Yes…"

"Right there, schatje?" he whispered, nuzzling her neck before dragging his lips over her jaw, smearing the sweat beading on her skin.

"Yes," she whined again, turning her head for his kiss. He tasted of sweat and sex and heaven and she whimpered against his tongue as ecstasy grew within her again. She could feel his thrusts falter and clenched around him, teeth sinking gently into his bottom lip. "Gonna come," she gasped, a harsh moan escaping when he suddenly released her leg, his hands fisting in the pillow on either side of her head. He pushed deeper than before, panting against her lips and she screamed into his kiss as the orgasm crashed through her. Her legs wrapped tight around him, pulling him deeper, and as she began to come down from the high he suddenly pulled out, leaving her gasping and missing the fullness. Looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he sat back, she shivered, watching his hand wrap around his length, squeezing and stroking wildly.

"Where do you want it?" he asked in a breathless moan.

Her mind was blank, barely able to remember her own name, but when he released a strained groan she finally found the words. "Stomach," she managed to whisper.

He shifted, hand working fast and urgent and she stared in a haze of awe and longing at the way the muscles of his arm rippled and strained as he released a deep groan that made her tremble. The heat of his release splashed across her stomach in thick bursts.

Panting, she reached for him as soon as the last drops splattered over her hip, leaning up to meet his lips in a breathless kiss. He nearly collapsed over her and she could feel the thrumming of his heart against her breast. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, body craving the heat of his, and held onto him until he moved to slump next to her.

Chuckling, still breathless, his skin flushed and sweaty. He pulled her into his arms, lips bumping her forehead before he leaned away long enough to grab his discarded shirt. "Okay?" he whispered, using the shirt to wipe the cum from her skin.

Y/n hummed, still trembling with the aftershocks as he balled up the shirt and dropped it to the floor. Curling close, she nestled her head in the curve of his shoulder. "Yeah," she murmured. "Better than okay."

Max let out a soft hum. "Better?"

She nodded, her hand sliding to rest over his heart. "Perfect."

please like/comment/reblog <3 fill out the form to be added to the taglist, and my inbox is always open if you want to yap about any of my writings <3

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen #logan sargeant #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #logan sargent x reader #my writings > mv > rulebreaker #my writings > ls > rulebreaker

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nurse-floyd · 4 months ago

Text

In Good Hands

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Bradley Bradshaw x reader

You and Jake are sick and miserable but your favourite man is there to look after you both.

Taglist: @pretzelcat4-blog

This one is all for @vivwritesfics

The front door creaked open as Bradley made his way into the house, arms full with shopping bags from the grocery store.

He sat the bags down, placing the flowers he’d bought from the florist on his way home in one of your vases before he made his way to the living room where you and Jake were bundled together on the sofa.

“Hey, how are my two sickies doing?” Bradley asked softly, setting the flowers on the side table before kneeling in front of you both.

Jake gave a weak smile, his face pale and eyes glassy. “We’re miserable,” he croaked, his voice raspy from a sore throat. “But she’s worse off than I am.”

Bradley shook his head. Of course he’d be playing tough guy, even with a fever and bug that’d had him flat out for the last 24 hours.

You gave a somewhat pitiful moan of agreement as you buried your head in the crook of Jake’s neck. Your skin was flushed, and Bradley could see the exhaustion clear on your face.

Bradley placed a hand on both of your foreheads, tutting at the fever that still hadn’t broken. His heart ached seeing the pair of you like this. “I brought some ingredients to make chicken noodle soup,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and then to Jake’s, “and some flowers to cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Roos,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering open just long enough to give him a small smile before closing again, exhaustion taking over.

He went about chopping ingredients, and putting the soup on to boil as he flitted between cooking and checking on the pair of you. When the soup had nothing more to do then simmer until it was ready, he came back to the living room, two glasses of juice in hand.

Once he got another look at you, Bradley could see Jake wasn’t just trying to be tough and lying. You didn’t look good. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft. “You’re burning up, sweetheart,” he said with concern. “Let’s get you more comfortable.” He helped you adjust the blankets and handed you the glass of orange juice. “Sip slowly.”

You took a few small sips before all the energy you had was sapped from you. The pair helped you lean back and get settled as Bradley left to get a cold washcloth to try and bring down your fever a little more.

He settled down again in front of you, placing one washcloth on Jake’s forehead as he rang out another and began to gently dab at your head and neck. You nuzzled into the coolness, immediately finding relief.

“You’re too good to us, Bradshaw,” Jake teased, although it lacked his usual spark with how miserable he felt.

“Yeah, well. Anything for you two,” he gave him a tight lipped smile, hating seeing the pair of you so sick and miserable.

As soon as the soup was finished cooking, he ladled to bowls full and brought them in. He helped Jake sit you up, propped up by a mountain of pillows.

Jake gratefully took his own bowl, taking a small sip before he practically moaned around the spoon. If it were any other situation, Bradley may have found it hot. “Jesus, Bradshaw. Maybe we should get sick more often if this is the treatment we get.”

“That recipe is courtesy of Momma Bradshaw, always helped me when I was sick.”

He grabbed your bowl then, and dipped in the spoon before bringing it to your mouth. You opened your mouth slightly, letting him spoon the liquid into your mouth. Jake was right. It was good soup. You just wished you could appreciate it fully without being so ill.

After a few mouthfuls you were exhausted once more and were almost falling asleep as Bradley kept encouraging you to eat more.

“Where’s your bowl of soup, mister,” Jake whispered so it wouldn’t disturb you.

“Eh, I’ll get something later,” he replied, shaking off Jake’s concern.

Jake shot him a look that meant he wasn’t up for an argument. How he could look so stern and sexy with a fever was beyond comprehension. “Sweetheart, we can’t have you running yourself into the ground looking after us,” he gave him those soft green eyes that Bradley couldn’t say no to.

With a huff, he got up from his seat on the ground and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl of soup and a bread roll and made his way back to sit with his two loves. Yeah, he was probably going to get sick himself, but he knew you and Jake would take just as much care of him as he’d done for you both.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangster #bradley bradshaw x jake seresin #hangman x rooster

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kombuuuu · 1 year ago

Note

Hello✋🏾! If I could request a Peter b parker x wife!reader where they have twins (including mayday) during the events of the movie?

No.1 Dad!

“Baby, Please. It’s a canon thing!”

“They’re toddlers!”

PeterBParker x Wife!Reader + little ones :]

light angst and a chase scene. ending is mostly comforting daddy parker

(it’s not sad i jus ❤️ this gif)

(Benjy is a canon named Kid of Peter B Parker’s in the Comics!)

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Oh shit.”

The father of two grimaced at the room full of spidey people. The voice of his wife sounding through the phone and into the echoing room.

“Tell me, why the fuck-“ Peter dragged a worried hand down his face. Miles snickering next to Hobie in the background. “—I woke up, to not only my *husband missing from my bed.” He sucked in a breath, glancing over at Miguel. Stood unimpressed with two spider-children climbing all over him and his platform. “But my two toddlers *lost from their damn cribs.” “Baby, I can explain.” He focused back on the phone, crowding over it like it would help conceal the conversation at all.

“You are in so much shit when you get home, young man.”

“I’m older than you by four years!”

“Watch your tone with me, Mister.”

He groaned, huffing and pouting into the phone while you continued to scold him before Miguel interrupted.

“Good morning, [name]. Hope you slept well.” His monotoned voice drawled out while picking the children off his clothes like bugs, and putting them back on Peter.

“Leave my wife alone.”

“Oh my god, please go somewhere private for this conversation.” Miguel rubbed between his eyes, his favourite thing to do apparently.

Your voice spoke back over him. “I don’t need privacy, I need my damn— Oh! Found it.”

“Baby, what are you—“ The connection cut off midway through his sentence, causing him to huff before realising; “Hey! That got me out of it!”

He straightened his posture, collecting his kids, Mayday and Benjy. And stuffing them into their baby carriers, carefully threading their limbs through each limb-window, as he called it.

A sparkle of warm tones caught his eye, circling from nothing into a fully developed portal.

“Oh, I should’ve known.”

“I seem to be making you say ‘Oh’ a lot.”

“You should’a heard you last night.”

“Peter!” He laughed as he watched you make your way over to him, giving Miguel a courteous nod and Miles a questioning glance. You looked so beautiful. An angel to him, the love of his life. He was so lucky to have you. And the little family you had created for yourselves. All the baby-stealing and stupid pictures aside, you were beyond enamoured with him as well.

“You’re lucky I still have this old thing, Parker. Or you wouldn’t have wanted to come home.

Despite the obvious threat, the only thing he could focus on was “come home”. A sentiment that was single to just your home, or just his home. But it was home. For a family, his family.

The admiration was broken when you pinched his nose. “Ow!”

“Shouldn’t have taken my kids.”

“Our kids!”

“Yeah whatever.”

You turned to Miguel, scanning the room and being very unsurprised at the amount of spider people here. If it was something important, Miguel loved a show. “What’s going on?”

“I’m… explaining something.”

“Uhuh.” you blinked at him slowly, unbelieving.

“Stop talking to my wife.” peter cut in.

“The fate of the multiverse is at stake, [name].-“ He threw his hands up, then gestures aggressively towards the kid next to Hobie.

“It’s his father, or an entire universe!”

“She’s not into you weirdo, back off.”

“Uhuh. And how old is the kid?”

He had the gall to look ashamed. Mayday babbled behind you. Giggling excitedly once she and Benjy had lost interest in whatever they were messing with on Peters suit. “Oh, come here baby.”

“How come I didn’t get that?”

Peter pouted over at you, rocking Benji gently, who was still half asleep.

You turned back around with your kid around your hip, addressing the kid near the centre of the room. “Hey uh—.”

“Miles!” He perked up, shyly waving at you.

“Oh, Miles! Peter talks so much about you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“He even named our dog after you!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” You smiled at Miles whilst he smiled back, happy to know Peter thought of him as much as he did Peter.

“You too, Mrs.Parker!”

“Don’t listen to this lady, she’s crazy and a psychopath!”

Peter stepped into place beside you, shaking his one un-baby-occupied hand in the air wildly.

“She’s off her meds!”

“Peter.”

He grumbled and stuck his tongue out. Blowing a raspberry, which Mayday happily replicated. You put the tip of your finger on Maydays tongue, pushing it back into her mouth. “Don’t do that, germs.”

turning away from peter, you kissed her cheek in apology, whispering “It’s not you, it’s him.” In her tiny ear.

You propped your free hand on your hip, looking up at Miguel on his platform.

He looked away. Hand settling below his chin as he closed his eyes and sighed.

“There’s that contemplative expression again.”

“Why is he always contemplating, nothing’s that serious.”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugged. He crept up close to you, putting his arm around you waist and leaning down to smell your perfume.

“I like that one.”

You smiled, tilting your head back to look at him, “I know,”.

Miguel continued on with his explanation, showing miles the different Canon events. Showing him Peters, Gwen’s, yours. When Miles seems to suddenly realise something.

“The Spot does it.” His hands shake alongside his voice, Peter glances over to you in worry, but ultimately focuses back on Miles. “He kills ‘im.” The boys shoulders drop in defeat.

“When does it happen.”

Miguel looks away, shaking his head and wincing.

Miles turns to the small group surrounding him, helpless.

“When does it happen?!”

“In two days,” Miles whips back towards him. “When he’s sworn in.”

“That’s- what the model says.”

“I’ sorry Miles-“

“Send me home.”

“I can’t do that, not now.”

Gwen winces and squeezes her eyes shut. Body stuff and unmoving.

“What am I supposed to do then? Let him die?!”

Miguel pauses. And doesn’t relent.

Miles’s face contorts for a second before he turns, gesturing vaguely at Gwen.

“What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

She just sighs, “Yeah.”

“Wh- And that’s it! You guys aren’t even gonna do anything about it?!”

Gwen looks down, ashamed.

Mayday grabs hold of your finger. Noting the serious tones of the situation, she stays quiet. He scoffs and turns to Peter.

“Okay what about Uncle Ben? That’d been okay? If you knew and you just—,” he stuttered, “Let it play out?!”

Peter stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on his students shoulder. “If not for uncle ben, most of us wouldn’t be here Miles.”

He pauses to look at the webbed window of his Ben.

“The good we did it-,” he breathes, “It wouldn’t have been done.”

You harden your gaze over your husband. He doesn’t look at you.

Miles nods, “So we’re just’ supposed to let people die because some algorithm—!” he hits Peters hand of his shoulder and starts towards Miguel again. “Woah, woah.” Lyla interjected. “—Says that that’s supposed to happen?!”

He swings his arms in annoyance, in *fear.

This is a *kid.

“You realise how messed up that sounds, right?”

With a better moral code than most in this room.

“You have a choice between saving one person—“ The slow approach of other spider people filled out the fog coating the room. “—And saving an entire world, every world!” Miguel points at him, hand on hip.

“I can do both!” He tries,

“Spiderman always-,”

“Not always.”

Miles looks to Peter, seeking back up. Peters face twists something sorry, and Miles’s flashes of hurt.

Benji starts to wake up, cooing softly at his dad.

Miguel’s hand gently turns the boy back around, this isn’t looking good.

You glance at Hobie, seeing the apprehension in his posture as he meets your gaze.

He glanced down at Mayday in question, you reassure him with a nod. If it comes to it, you’ll put her in peters baby carrier for safety. He nods back.

“Miles, we all want to lead the life we wish we had.” When Miles shrugs him off he raises his hands.

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”His hands slowly lowered. Miles’ breathing got heavier.

“And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.”

“You can’t have it all, kid.”

Miles looked around in panic, noticing the faces creeping up on him. He makes eye contact with you, and you try and signal your support.

If you run, I’ll run too.

“Being Spiderman is a sacrifice. That’s the job, that’s what you signed up for.”

A robotic voice caught your attention as a large suit approached the outer circle.

“Miles.” The faceplate opened.

“Penny?”

He put up his defences once more.

“What is this?” He yelled, the force of his words drawing an immediate attention. “Is this an intervention or something?”

“We know it’s hard, but it’s the truth, Miles.”

You glare at the faces around you, Adjusting Mayday on your hip and keeping an eye out for your two boys.

Miles and Benji.

Peter will be dealt with later.

Miles stumbles back, righting his foot and turning to Peter.

“Is that why you’re here? To—“

he clenched his fist, “To let me down easy?”

You watch your lover closely, the look on his face telling you all you need to know, and apparently same goes for Miles.

“It worked last time, why not run it back huh?” his voice was raising, Benji getting uncomfortable at the tone.

“Woah- hey, hold on. Hold on!” He raised his hand in a placating matter, trying to tune Miles down.

“You were right, Gwen.”

You glanced up at her, his venomed whisper doing its intended purpose, hurt.

“You should have never come to see me.”

Peter slowly approached Miles, bending down to his height like a person to a stray dog.

“Kid, look at me-“ “Stop callin’ me that.”

“There you go.” You sent Hobie a huff of appraise.

“Hobie, you’re not helping.”

“Good.”

Miles gratefully nodded at him.

“Miles, please understand-“ Peter tried.

“Peter.” Your stern voice interrupted him, and he shut down his attempt.

“You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.”

You glared at Miguel, only noticing the barrier a little too late. It opened under Miles, trapping him within when the inner circle started to protest.

“Miguel just give him a second! Please!”

“Dont! Stop it.”

“You let him leave, he’ll only do more damage.”

Gwen intervened, “Enough!”

You rushed towards the barrier with Mayday, her reaching for the barrier in confusion. You can’t help him out of this, you don’t know how.

“Miguel, let him out! He’s a kid.” You raised your voice. Weaponising your authority.

“Miguel this is too far.”

“[Name], it’ll only hold him few days.” He turned around to walk away.

Miles was panicking, banging on the barriers walls and spinning to try and find a weak point. His eyes caught onto Hobie. Doing nothing but holding his palms out, and giving him an earnest look. “Sorry it had to end like this, kid.”

“I said—“ Miles placed his hands flat on the barrier, right above his head. Palms out, You backed up shielding Mayday and dragging Peter to turn around and using him as a body block for Benji.

“—Not-“ The barriers begun to crack, shatter like glass.

“—To call me that!” A wave of energy pushed everyone down as the barrier broke, exploding in a mess of bright colours.

You heard Hobie chuckle, and looked up at Miles in amazement. A second where he caught your eye, he darted. Running straight for the exit.

“Miles!” Miguel screeched.

You stuffed Mayday in her carrier in record time and blew them a kiss as you pounced from your position to catch up with Miles.

Unbeknownst to you, Your husband, along with every other spider person, would follow. Except Hobie.

“Just for the record, I quit.”

—

You had found Miles being interrogated by your lover, him holding up your two children like bribing toys.

“C’mon- just hold ‘em!”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Miles manoeuvred slyly through all the cranks and pipes, your Spidey following swiftly behind him. “Just one hold! It’s rejuvenating!”

“I’m plenty juvenated!” Miles retorted.

You were going to interrupt when you lagged behind a bit, getting stuck on a moving pipe.

When you finally freed yourself, you stumbled into a cute moment between the two.

“I wanted them to be like you!”

He stared at your husband, vulnerable and scared, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face.

Mayday and Benji bickered with each other in his hold.

Peters watch suddenly lit up.

“Okay, Peter I’ve got your location.”

Their faces dropped, betrayal raw on the young boys.

“No, no. You do not have my location!”

Him peeling open the crate to the industrial fans, and slipping in. You using your webs to sling in after him and pull the crate shut behind you. Catching Peters fleeting glance before what seemed twenty different spider people broke through the crate, smashing through fans.

You followed miles swiftly, through the busses and over cartops. Using your webs to keep up with him. He wasn’t bad, for someone so young.

“I’m a great mentor!”

You huffed at Peters distant offended tone. “Sure, baby.” You muttered.

You hooked around a building, watching as Miles cut himself off from Gwen. Her hand reaching out for him as he fell. Your spidey senses caught your attentions, tingling in the forefront of your mind. You zeroed in on Miles and watched as he aimed for the train. It hadn’t looked like anyone else had caught on yet. Still scrambling to get to him, instead of trying to cut him off.

—

Miguel had the kid by the throat. Slamming him against the train doors and dragging his body up with him. You watched in fear as he spoke to the boy.

“You’re a mistake!”

You screamed at him from your position below, begging for him to just let the kid go. Miles caught you gaze. You fought against the wind, trying hard to get to him, and keeping an eye on Peter and your babies.

“If you hadn’t been bit-!” Miguel slammed his back again. You winced. “Your Peter Parker would have lived!”

Miles struggled against him, trying to push off the claws attacking him. “Instead he died- Saving you.”

“He would have stopped the collider before it went off. Spot wouldn’t exist-“ “Peter!” “-And none of this, would have happened.”

The three of you climbed to get to them. You grabbed Benji off peter, Cradling him in your arms as the winds were getting too rough.

Miguel slammed him back again, crowding over the small boy and growling his words.

“And all this time— I have been the only one holding all this together.”

“Miguel go easy on him!” Peter called down from his spot behind you, he sounded devastated, your heart broke for him. You knew how much he loved Miles, thinking of him almost like his first son. Your husband would bring him up so often, wondering what he was doing when he could see through the Spidey-Windows Miguel would (angrily) provide.

He always stressed when Miles had to figure out things himself, saying things like “Just give me a day with him, we’ll figure it out!” “He’s a kid Miguel. Wouldn’t you have wanted a mentor back then?” “I’m a great mentor.” “You just don’t see my brilliance.”

Benji babbled in your arms and you cooed back at him, spider beanie pulled snug over his face. Huh, he was pretty rejuvenating.

Miguel leaned closer, growling words of disgust to the kid.

“Let me go!” Miles struggled against him. A choked sound came from Peter, and when you looked back at him you swore you could see his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Miguel that’s enough!” Gwen shouted.

“This isn’t what we talked about!”

Miles stopped struggling.

“You talked about this?” He looked down at Peter, heart breaking.

“You knew?”

Peter looked down, ashamed. Clinging onto the train but no longer climbing. Mayday held tightly to his chest with the other hand, he caught your eye.

“Peter what did you do..” Your breath escaped you and the words came out a whisper, flown away by the winds around you.

“You all knew?”

Your head shot up, starting to disagree before Gwen spoke.

“I.. I didn’t know..” She looked away, unable to face him.

“How to tell you.”

“That’s why you never came to see me.”

“Miles it’s for your own good!”

He pushed forwards.

“Who decides that?”

Miguel pushed back.

“I’m not a kid Gwen.”

Miguel grunted, slamming him again, the dent in the train deepening every time. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re just a kid!”

“Who has no idea what he’s doing!” Miles grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to squirm further from the beast on him.

His fingers sparked.

Miguel shoved his forearm against Miles’ neck, pushing his face against broken metal.

“Yeah well, I did get hundreds of Spider people away from your own club house.”

The roaring of spider people climbing the train travelled straight to Miguel’s ears.

“I guess he did plan this out!”

You smiled up at him. Seeing him smug back.

“And, I’m about to do this.”

He latched his sparking fingers onto Miguel’s shoulders. Clenching down and watching the starts of his electricity flow through the man’s arms.

The elder was the on struggling now, confused grunts paired with an effort to escape the boys hold.

“Everyone keeps tellin’ me how my story is s’posed to go.

Nah, Imma do my own thing.”

He pushed his whole hands against blue spiders chest.

“Sorry, but i’m going home.”

He pushed Miguel off of him right as he ignited the current buzzing underneath their veins. And watched as the Brunettes body ragdolled off of him and shot off the train and into the open sky.

The fanged man dragged his hand through waves of spider people, struggling to catch himself against smooth metal.

You looked back up at Miles, as he stood, connected by a single web to the speeding train.

“Goodbye, Gwen.”

He cut the thread and fell.

Gwen yelled for him, a call of his name. But peter? Peter just watched with his heart in his throat. His own betrayal heavy on his heart.

—

You were finally at home again. The stress of the day weighing high on the both of you. Even Mayday and Benji seemed to have noticed the tension.

Getting tired over all the moving and all the fighting, it was barely 7:30 before they were dead asleep.

“You think we’re bad parents?”

You were stood leaning over he crib, arms rested on its gates. Peter crowded over you, covering you in his smell and feeling. The weight on his body pressing against your back was akin to a weighted blanket, grounding you as you watched your sweet children breathe.

“Nah, Everyone has their first chase.”

“Well,..”

“Ehhh, want to see the cute photo I got of Benj and May?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

—

Your husband had been off the whole rest of the night. When you two had sat down together to watch the first mind numbing thing you could find, he couldn’t stop moving. Jittering with nerves.

You were waiting patiently for him to work the courage to say what he needed. Not ever preparing for something like this.

“Think Miles hates me?” It was said slyly. Like he was playing it off to be nothing, but the tension in his shoulder told you otherwise. “I think he’ll be hurt. And upset, but I don’t think he hates you.” He picked at his nails as you spoke, you curled your hands over the expanse of his chest and fit your ledge over his waist, he looked up at you through wet lashes.

“Are you sure cause-“ He cut himself off with a clear of his throat, not wanting to sob over something so *stupid in his head.

“Oh, baby. You’re so sweet, but he could never hate you.”

Peters hands stopped fiddling with themselves, smoothening down the curve of your ass and the small of your back.

“Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded relieved, if not a little suspicious.

He dug his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“Creep.”

He nipped at your skin lightly in retaliation.

“Miguel talks to you too much.”

“Every sentence we shared was negative.”

“He’s like that.”

You scoffed at him playfully and he smiled into your neck, turning his cheek to your skin and watching you. “I’ll make sure next time we talk, it’ll be in sign.”

“No, I don’t speak ASL, what if he says something about me?”

“He says something about you out loud, baby.”

“Yeah but I can’t hear it if he’s signing.”

—

Even later in the night, when you heard the shower running and soft sobs coming from the bathroom. You did nothing but undress and climb in with him. Rubbing your hands soothingly down his back, spreading soap along his chest and back and massaging it in deep for him.

You let him hold himself up against you, and pretended not to notice the difference between the shower water and his tears. You dragged him down to your height, a hand tucked into his soft hair before your lips met his. He would settle his hands on your hips, push you ever closer to him. And take the comfort you gave him in stride.

Eventually you would pay mine to your water bill, and would dry each other off carefully, get dressed together and settle in your shared bed. It was 1 AM now, but you couldn’t care less, being in the arms of your lover had outweighed any negatives lack of sleep could bestow. He would make it up to Miles. Solve the problems of the universe (multiverse), and have you two meet for real. Introducing Miles to his wife, and his son to his twins.

—

I WENT OFF THE RAILSSSS

probs making a part two later, for more peter daddy snippets and cute kids plus wifey reader

#peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #peter benjamin parker #peter x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales #gwen stacy x reader #miguel o’hara #mayday parker #hobie brown

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ofallthingsnasty · 4 months ago

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pairing: crocodile x f!reader tags: fat reader, yandere, past violence, written from nico robin's pov as a little character/relationship study, minors dni word count: 0.9k

note: I had this thought about Robin meeting Crocodile's well-kept basement wife for the first time ages ago but wanted to expand on it a little, mainly because I love the melancholic and stuffy feel being his basement wife has to me. This is mainly vibes and exploration, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! If you want to know more about 'your' scar, I talked about it here and here.

For the first time since she’s met Crocodile, Nico Robin is actually surprised.

She hadn’t been when she had first seen his lavish base at Rain Dinners in all its opulent glory, hadn’t flinched when she noticed the gigantic species of gators swimming through an even more gigantic, underground tank, hadn’t raised a brow at his penchant for expensive clothes and jewelry and countless cigars, something so decadent compared to the starving land around him. No, instead it fit him like a glove; that elegant, suave style of evil that had crawled into the very foundations of his lair to fester and rot and ooze wickedness whenever she returned. A marvel to witness, truly, such commitment to the bit. Predictable. Placeable.

What doesn’t fit, however, is a dependent.

A man like Crocodile - with all his peacockery, arrogance, scorn and grandeur, isn’t someone she can see oh-so-graciously letting someone partake in the riches he has carefully hoarded just because of the goodness of his heart. It’s laughable, the thought. She could have seen him with a child, maybe, a little brat from some old flame many moons past, a little snot-nosed kid who is the epitome of spoiled, who gets too little attention and too much money from daddy. That, she could have seen sitting on that old, luxurious chaise after getting called back to the base.

But not you. Not fully-grown, very much not snot-nosed, you.

You’re so small, she thinks, or at least you seem to be. Compared to the grand interior surrounding you, the expensive leather settee you’ve been put on, the dark fur that nearly swallows you as you sit, nothing but your hands and round face peeking out from underneath, you are, in fact, quite small. Small and scared, the coat that’s been draped over you making you look like you’re all fat, bug-eyed rabbit and no part lithe and feisty wolf. If she wasn’t trying to grasp this situation she’d suppress a laugh at the clear intention behind your gaudy little outfit: like a purse, you’ve been dressed to compliment his outfit of the day, undoubtedly just as ornamented with pelt as you. You’re an unusual sight for the wife (and wife you are, she notes with a glance at a gold band wrapped around your pudgy finger) of someone as high-ranking as a warlord - if she had to imagine anyone befitting of that title it would have been someone more sleek; tall, classy, with observant eyes and painted lips that give way to pearly and sharp teeth. Someone whose mere presence whispers power, someone who is at least half as capable as Mister 0 himself.

What’s sitting right in front of her is a liability, a living, breathing shackle. And those are dangerous in the world the two of them operate.

And it begs a simple question: why? Why show her this, make her aware of your presence? Everything he does has a reason, but what purpose does this encounter serve? Robin’s life has been nothing but running, running and then some more running - and so does her mind, ever on edge, ever hunted. She needs to put this into a category, to discern good from bad from somewhere in between, especially when it comes to the inherent danger that is Crocodile. But it makes no sense to her, no matter how hard she tries to find any in the short second she has seen you. Is this a lesson? A show? A reward? A sign of trust?

Nothing quite fits. She tilts her head as your eyes flutter over her form; taking in the seemingly relaxed elegance, her effortlessly chic outfit. You don’t seem to know either, fear and confusion etched into your soft features. Too easy to read, she thinks. He has clearly never told you about her. Not involved in this business. Hm.

Before she can take another step towards you - to glean another detail, to lure a word out of you that might solve this little mystery - the heavy thud of opening doors startles you. You sit ramrod straight in a millisecond, face instinctively pulled towards the source of the noise. Although she stays right where she is, it gives her another piece in the puzzle to work with: with the motion, a gnarly scar bulges underneath fake light, spanning from the edge of your mouth almost to your ear, gifting you an unnatural, lopsided smile. Ah. She knows Crocodile’s handwriting when she sees it, knows how heavy it can be with his left hand especially.

You aren’t here out of your own free will.

How fitting, after all.

Not a dependent, but a captive. A cherished one, at that. A little pet, his favorite, tucked away and kept in safety.

She almost wants to scoff at the revelation. Evil, through and through. But this isn’t yet another display of just how cartoonishly bad he is, she thinks, until-

Until you part your lips to reveal a horribly tainted smile as you spot him, hurrying to sit up from the stiff leather and scuttling over. He doesn’t even look at her as you greet him quietly, awkward and uneasy, his face so utterly pleased with whatever this display is supposed to show him. You fold one hand over his right wrist and pull close as he laughs at your antics - you don’t act like this normally, do you?

Finally, as he excuses you to disappear behind him, whispering something to you that she’d consider intimate if she hadn’t seen the raw, unembellished fear in your eyes, if she hadn’t known that the scar that adorns your face is years-old, it clicks.

This isn’t for her. It’s for you.

#crocodile x reader #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #fat reader #chubby reader #plus sized reader #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/one piece

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mistress-riddle · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐁𝐘.

✐ 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

cw - tommy shelby x mother! reader. reader has a daughter and tommy is not the father lol. mostly fluff and humour, tommy beefs with an almost 4 year old but what’s new?

a/n : this was a request however i lost the actual request 🤷🏻‍♀️

"sweetheart, are you ready?" [name]'s voice rang throughout the house as she finished placing her coat over her outfit, rummaging through her purse to see if she had enough money to do her shopping shortly after.

"yes, mummy!" came the reply from her daughter in a sweet childish voice as she ran up to her mother who held her arms wide open for her baby to run into and balance on her waist.

she took sight of dana's face with her chubby cheeks and felt overwhelming affection cross through her "come here!" giggles erupted into the air as [name] peppered kisses all over the little girls face.

"alright, little bug," she says as she sets her down and looks directly at her "we need to go to the market but before that we'll go and see mister curly, is that good?" she asks the girl and in return receives a nod of glee.

"good, let's go!"

hand in hand, [name] and her daughter exited their house, arms swinging merrily as they made their way to the stables curly worked in. it was fate that they stumbled upon the place during one of their strolls intended to familiarise themselves around the city, having just moved to small heath less than 4 months ago after the death of the patriarch of the family.

small heath, despite its unpleasant parts (it seemed quite grime and dirty most of the times), had its charms. the people were alright — curly was friendly! — and it was not extremely hectic like london was. at least she thought so, she heard about something called "peaky blinders" mentioned every now and again but they were usually in hushed whispers and she found that it did not concern her as she lived peacefully with her daughter.

"good morning, mister curly!" [name] greeted curly upon their arrival. dana was quick to detach from her mother and approach curly with an eager smile and hug. the kind man took it in stride and with an equally jovial smile and he was quick to lead the young girl to the beautiful horse snacking on the scattered hay before it.

"a good morning to you too, missus [surname]" he replied shortly after, tipping his head in greeting like a gentlemen and a smile made it's way onto the widows face as she turned to look at dana rubbing her face against one of the horses fur.

"dana, we won't spend long here alright?" a pout formed on her daughters lips at the declaration and [name] mentally prepared herself to win whatever argument that would rise from her daughter.

"okay, mummy." the girl sighed in defeat and [name] approached her to press a kiss on the crown of her head for being an obedient child before she pat the horse her child was caressing.

"what was he called again, love?" [name] asked as she turned to look down at her daughter who smiled brightly. she loved animals but horses in particular seemed to have caught her little self's attention.

"he's moby, mummy," dana said, hands resting on her waist much like her mum would often do "you should know that."

"I forgot sweetheart, must be turning old." she chuckles and checks her watch before patting her daughters shoulder "now, let's get going, honey."

"goodbye mister curly!" dana waves at the man who waves back and [name] gives a milder wave of her own. the two begin to walk slowly to the market as the mother starts to instruct dana.

"hold onto my hand or my coat at all times, okay?" she tells her daughter.

"yes, mummy."

"I don't want you to get lost, babygirl. I'll get you a treat for being a good girl, alright?" [name] pinches her cheek when they arrive at a stand in the market and she starts checking the items being sold as the man behind the cart occupies her attention.

dana's attention, however, is captured by the neighing of a horse nearby and she gasps at the sight of moby striding through the streets with an unfamiliar man settled upon him. she is quick to leave her mothers side to get a better look at the man who stole moby. once he catches sight of her, he slows the horse to warn the young girl.

"out of the way, love." he says. voice gruff and so unlike the tone her mum would use to warn her and so dana stubbornly shakes her head and crosses her arms. he watches her as she watches him, a deep frown settled on her lips and eyebrows set in passionate defiance. anyone could see that the girl was not going to comply with anything and so the man sighs and mounts off the horse. he holds the reigns in his hand as he begins to head towards the girl with the horse following and takes his place in front of her, kneeling down to meet her gaze.

"can you move out the way, please?" he repeats, tone much softer this time. the girl still shakes her head and the mysterious man wearing a peaked cap shuts his eyes in annoyance.

the words she says causes him to flash his eyes open--

"sir, that horse is not yours."

she says it with so much confidence and certainty that he finds himself confused as she points towards the horse planted firmly behind him.

"pardon?" he asks, bafflement evident on his expression.

"how can you steal him from mister curly? mummy told me stealing is very rude and not nice. so stealing from mister curly is very rude and very mean. what if I went into your house and stole something important from you, would you not be sad? because I know I would."

in the midst of this occurring, the citizens of small heath take in the spectacle before them. eyes trained and mouths agape at the sight of the most dangerous man in birmingham being scolded by someone, nevermind a little girl, about stealing of all things.

tommy's face relaxes "first off, this is my horse," he claims, running a hand down monaghan boy's head "second, where's your mummy?"

"she's shopping" she quickly answers, dismissing him "but I'm here to stop you from stealing moby, mister thief."

"moby? mister. thief?" tommy repeats in mild amusement as his brow arches.

"dana, sweetheart, where are you?" [name]'s voice calls out and she breaks through the crowd to see a man kneeling with a hand shoved into his pocket in front of her highly irritated daughter.

"what's going on here?" she asks as she arrives to stand behind her daughter with her hands placed collarbones, hugging her body close to her torso in protection as mild panic settled onto her pretty features.

"I'm assuming you're the mum?" the man asks as he stands up straight and [name] takes this opportunity to scan his appearance thoroughly. he was a good looking man, seemingly based on the attire he bode, she took notice of the cigarette he almost wore as an accessory.

"you're right, is there a problem?" she confirms and levels his gaze despite how piercing it was.

"this little girl-" the man was interrupted by dana turning in her arms with angry tears threatening to spill from her eyelids "mummy, this man stole moby from mister curly and he's not wanting to give him back!"

[name]'s eyebrows furrow together as she looks at her daughter before lifting her head to see the man roll his eyes.

"miss," he interjects "your daughter will not allow me to pass despite my ownership of the horse, curly is my employee." he clarifies but dana just turns to [name] to rebut as she's not convinced.

"mummy, tell curly to come here and see if this man is telling the truth." the older woman was about to deny her request but dana widened her doe eyes and persisted and so, [name] sighed as she told her to stay in her spot before hurrying over to the stables nearby.

"I don't have time for this." tommy goes to move but dana screams in protest and he freezes.

"stop that." he demands the girl and she sticks her tongue out at him and if this situation wasn't a bit irritable on his behalf, he would have laughed but that didn't stop the half scoff, half chuckle from leaving his lips.

"fine, I'll stay until 'mister curly' shows up." dana moves closer to the man to pat the horse.

"it's fine moby, I'll save you from this mean man." she says in a loud whisper and tommy merely raises an eyebrow at her.

"alright everyone, keep moving." he claps his hands together beckoning the onlookers to briskly walk away and proceed their previous activities.

"I'm so sorry, sir." curly limps over to the man who just nods as a sign of dismissal of the apology and motions to the child clutching onto the horse.

"dana, come 'ere." curly takes the girl away to explain to her and [name] stands before the man and offers him an apology of her own.

"I'm very sorry, mister shelby?" she says with a bit of an intonation at the end and the man nods "we're new here and not really sure as to how this place works, I'm very sorry if my daughter offended you in any way and ask you to forgive her for she is merely a child."

"I'm not a monster, despite what you might've heard." he chuckles "she's a loyal child who wants to stop something bad from happening to someone or something she loves, you raised her good." he nods, as if agreeing with himself and looks at the girl who was walking guiltily over to the two and [name] gives a small smile in return.

"thank you, is there anyway we could make it up to you?" she asked, picking up her daughter to rest on her hip.

"well, I'd like an apology from this little lass" he taps the tip of dana's nose and she crinkles it cutely in response "and an address from you." he says after a bit of a pause.

"address?" [name] inquires, confused and intrigued as well as worried.

"fear not, I'm not the grim reaper asking for your souls." he smirked as he caught [name] looking apologetic at her hesitance, lower lip released from the clutch her teeth had against it "I'd like to invite you both to something."

"I see," [name] smiles with a nod before whispering in dana's ear something and the little girl looks at the man with a frown on her lips.

"I'm sorry for saying bad things about you mister, it was wrong of me and I'm very, very sorry." she looks at him with teary eyes.

"you're alright," he pinches dana's cheeks softly "I'm sure moby would appreciate you trying to protect him."

"can I still see him?" she asks, hope lacing her words and the man nods.

"thank you, sir!"

"thank you a lot, mister shelby."

"anytime, miss?"

"[surname], [name] [surname]." she flashes him a smile before taking her leave with her daughter still in her arms who gives the man a big smile that has him returning a smaller one.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby drabble #tommy shelby scenario #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

Text

𝑨𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, no outbreak au, strangers to lovers

word count: 7.2k

summary: Joel has been experiencing knee pain for the past two months. When he finally sees an orthopedist, he learns that he has some minor damage to his meniscus. The doctor prescribes him anti-inflammatory medication and physical therapy, recommending swimming. At the pool, he meets you.

warnings: conversation about past failed relationships + sexual relationships, sarah's off at college, reader being briefly self conscious about her body, touch starved joel, oral (giving), both reader and joel not being intimate with anyone for a while, piv sex, riding for the first time, ass play, messy, joel showing small signs of relationship anxiety, sexual tension, size kink, dirty talk, joel is mentioned to be older than reader but how old isn't specified, praise kink, joel being...well-endowed

a/n: this ended up being more emotional and longer than I intended lmaodfbvfg whoops?

Joel worries his bottom lip between his teeth. His right knee bobs nervously, his jeans making a sound every time. The early morning sun filters through the small window. A soft yellow light bounces off the picture frames on the orthopedist's desk. She’s not here yet. The kind nurse had let him in early, saying she would be there shortly. It smells like medicine. It’s too clean and he doesn’t like it.

His stomach turns. Some part of him actually hopes the doctor doesn’t come in. Joel’s not hopeful about the results. His knees have been bugging him for the past two months. Locking painfully whenever he sat too long and got up. Or when he was sitting in the truck for too long. It just started to ache out of nowhere. It had gotten worse. He’d give in, finally, after Sarah practically begged him on the phone to see a doctor. After all this time he still couldn’t say no to his sweet girl.

The door opens with a click. Joel becomes stiff, eyes nervously following the woman. She takes a seat. Placing the folder neatly on the shiny table, she opens it and smooths it out with the flat of her palms.

“Good morning, Mister Miller.” she says, not bothering to look at him. “I've taken a look at your knee x-rays and it seems that you have a bit of damage in your meniscus.”

His molars catch the smooth inside of his cheek and sink into it. She just said a whole lot that he doesn’t understand. He shakes his head. She’s finally looking at him, sharp eyes peering between thinned lashes.

“Is it serious? What does that mean?” he asks, hands finding the curve of his knees.

“Well, the good news is that it's not a major injury. There’s just a bit of damage in the tissues and can be treated with some medication and physical therapy. You won’t need surgery unless it escalates. Which, hopefully, it won’t.”

“Okay, that's good to hear. What kind of medication and therapy do I need?”

“I'm going to prescribe you some anti-inflammatory medication to help reduce the swelling and pain in your knee. And as for physical therapy, I'd recommend you try swimming. It's a low-impact exercise that can help strengthen the muscles around your knee and promote healing. I also have some stretches I want to show you. I want you to do them daily.”

She closes the folder, picks up a deck of Post-it notes, and starts scribbling something.

“You were a contractor, right? I’m going to need you to refrain from heavy lifting for a while. No jumping, no running, no extreme movements that can affect your knee. Some walking is fine, but not a lot.”

“Well,” he smacks his lips. Now relaxed, he leans back into the chair and crosses his arms. “There goes my weekend plans.”

“Do you work out a lot? Because this is quite common in athletes.”

“Uh…It was a joke.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly he’s fidgety again. Not wanting to look dumb, he explains. “Because you said jumpin’ and runnin’ and no one spends their weekend jumpin’ do they?”

A nervous laughter bubbles in his throat, and he manages to swallow it down. She nods and peels the paper away. Handing it to Joel, she looks at him with a small smile.

“Sorry about that, it’s still early. And you’re right. They don’t.

You step into the small shower cabin and allow the cold water to trace over your skin and wash away the outside. The elastic of your swimming cap digs into your forehead, the goggles applying pressure right above your head. Slightly irritated, you sneak two fingers under where the plastic starts, allowing your head to breathe one last time before taking a dip in the pool. You come here almost every day. It’s relaxing, soothing.

Your fingers slip as you twist the knob, turning off the spray of water. You might be biased due to your childhood, but you love the pool. You love the chlorine that fills your lungs with every breath. It’s sharp and pungent, leaving a slight burn in your lungs. During summers your parents would send you off to summer camp, which you thoroughly enjoyed. Though, calling it a “camp” felt wrong. It wasn’t outdoors, and you would return after the day ended, just like regular school, but instead of math, there was swimming and basketball.

You remember those days fondly, which is why you sigh blissfully at the scent whereas a lot of people would wrinkle their noses.

Walking to the pool, you roll your shoulders. You wince upon hearing them crack. It’s been a long week. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. The soft pitter patters of rain echoes. You love to swim when it rains. It also meant there would be fewer people, and no children. You don’t have anything against the tiny humans, but they had a habit of being loud.

You spot an older couple, their bodies swaying in a lazy backstroke, their voices spilling out in laughter. You also notice one other person that’s aggressively swimming back and forth. In one lane, you notice a man. His cap and black goggles make it hard to catch a glimpse of his face. It’s hardly inappropriate, but you can’t resist stealing a few more glances at him.

You take in his broad shoulders, thick neck, and shapely arms. You narrow your eyes. You catch a glimpse of his salt and pepper beard, the darker hue of his mustache hinting at the color of his hair. Your eyes drop to his hands, hidden in the water up to the knuckles. He clenches them into fists before releasing them.

Your curiosity piques. You’ve never seen him before, he looks lost. He’s standing above the built-in stairs which are mainly used for people who are just learning to swim. He takes another step lower. The light blue water splashes over his soft stomach and he jerks away. You instinctively smile. You usually don’t reach out to people. If they smile at you, you smile back or talk about the weather. But the stranger’s nervous energy prompts you to take a couple of steps closer—close enough that he can hear you. You take a deep breath, pressing your nails into your palms, you push down the thoughts about your own appearance. No one really looks that good in a one piece. You feel exposed, which is why you usually dip into the water as fast as you can before anyone can get a good look.

“Hi there,” you squeak, with an awkward lift of your hand. The man stiffens and turns. Your own image is reflected back at you thanks to the goggles he wears. “Sorry to bother you, I was just…wondering if you need help?”

He stares at you in silence for a brief moment, his brows drawn together with confusion. But a moment later he relaxes, his shoulders drop and he playfully shakes his head.

Finally, he removes the goggles, and you see his eyes— his gorgeous, big brown eyes. Your breath catches in your throat. You’re suddenly feeling very clammy and sweaty.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, a grin teasing at his lips. “My doctor said I need to start swimmin’ before my knees give out entirely.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He waves his hand in dismissal, “Don’t be. It's nothin’ that serious, just small damage to my meniscus. I know how to swim, so it’s nothin’ like that but I guess my nerves are fried from worryin’ all weak about the results. My brain still ain’t convinced that everythin’ is fine.”

God, he’s gorgeous. All you can do is focus on the movement of his lips. Him speaking is enough to fluster you. You need to get it together before he thinks you’re a creep. You part your lips, but the words die in your throat as you watch him. He starts climbing the steps one by one with an extended hand. The water cascades down his body, his trunks sticking to his thighs. In a fit of panic, you glue your eyes to his.

“I’m Joel by the way.” he takes your hand and gives it two firm shakes. You introduce yourself but all you can hear is your own frantic heartbeat.

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” you blurt out. You have no idea what to say or what you’re doing. “If you’re nervous we can do a couple of laps together if you want—if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You swear your heart stops when his eyes flit across your face, assessing how serious you are. His smile never fades. You inhale sharply when his tongue darts out from between his lips, sweeping over his damp bottom lip.

“I bet you say that to all the older guys.”

“Only the cute ones.”

Clearly, the circuits between your brain and mouth are heavily damaged because there’s no way on god’s green earth did you just say that. You blink fast. Images of you choking out another you vivid in your mind. You’re insane—only the ones that are cute, who even says that? No more romantic comedies for you.

Joel pushes his shoulders back. He exhales a deep breath, his chest heaving.

“Well, ain’t that kind of you.” he takes a step back into the water, some part of you regrets not sneaking at least one more glance at his nethers. “I guess I should take you up on your offer. It’s only polite.”

A nervous bubble of laughter escapes your throat. You don’t say anything and follow him into the pool. You’re glad to be finally submerging your body in water. Ever since you were little you would believe that water had magical healing properties. You would go into the water, thinking that someone it would speak to you. Despite being an adult, you still think that sometimes. It just makes life a little bit more fun. You know it’s stupid to think of chloric water having any kind of benefit to your body, however, it’s hard to break old thought patterns.

Joel dips head first, and after watching his distorted silhouette underwater, you follow. You smile, bubbles coming from your nose. Your spine cracks as your body becomes more fluid. You turn around so you are facing upwards. Light bounces on top of the small waves. The ceiling is nothing but a blur of white and blue. Some part of you wishes this was an open pool so you could feel the vibrations of raindrops hitting the waterline.

Turning again, you notice Joel moving up. His head pops above water. You take one last glance at his body before propelling yourself up, joining him.

Your eyes follow the way waterdrops smooths a line down from his neck to his shoulder. Your mouth goes dry.

“So,” you say. “Did your doctor give you any specific exercises?”

He shakes his head, “She just told me to go swimmin’. And not to put pressure on my knees.”

You think for a bit before answering, “Alright then. We’ll just take it slow, so a couple of laps first, take small breaks in between.”

“You…really don’t have to, you know,” Joel looks almost guilty before his eyes move away from yours. Confused, you raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t have to what?”

“Swim with me.”

You feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces of glass that stick to your lungs. His voice is barely above a whisper, cracking at the end of his sentence. Your body moves towards his by instinct. The most natural thing would be to place your hand on his cheek and pull him for a tender kiss. Your body singing at you to do it. And man, you’re tempted alright. You want to trace the seam of his lips with your tongue, taste the chlorine on his lips.

You ball your hands into tight fists, thankful to be hidden underwater. You recognize the loneliness that maps across his handsome countenance.

“I know I don’t have to,” you say instead. He looks back at you with surprise, eyes immediately dropping to your wet lips. “I want to.”

He lets out a breath of relief, and nods, a smile gracing his lips. “A’right then. As long as I’m not keepin’ you from anythin’.”

The swimming had gone well. Joel definitely had the body and stamina for it, and the more laps he did, the more confident he became with his strokes. You found yourself staring at him openly, stealing glances before you dipped below the water, hiding your embarrassment.

However, he was still a beginner, and he’s knees began to ache after the tenth lap. He insisted that you continue without him as he sat at the side of the pool. You were hesitant at first but agreed, however, your cheeks burned from the mere prospect of that man watching you swim.

When you’re done, you catch him staring at you with a fond smile lingering on his lips. You imagine that’s the same look he’d give you with the first rays of sunlight after a rather passionate night.

Your pussy bottoms out, heat spreading between your legs. You inhale sharply, accidentally snorting a bit of water. It burns and your eyes water, but you manage to swallow down the frantic coughs that threaten to rip from your throat.

“Sweet little mermaid.” he mutters as you approach, eyes following you with greed. Your breath hitches, and Joel loses his grounding for a moment. He clears his throat and looks away. “You swim well.”

“Thanks,” you answer. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You ignore the heat that emanates from his thigh, your arms accidentally brushing against the hard muscle. You clumsily push yourself out of the pool and take a seat next to him.

“How’re your knees feeling?” you ask.

He lets out a hum, stretching his legs underwater. “They’re fine. Hopefully, this works.”

“I’m sure it will.”

"Even if it doesn't work out, at least I won't be going home empty-handed," he says with a smile. Your eyes flick to him and widen slightly. Very inappropriately, your nipples tighten. A blush starts from his neck and spreads across his broad chest, you notice the goosebumps bursting over his skin. He starts to fidget with his thumbs. “And by that, I mean that I got to meet you. I think I put that weirdly.”

The world comes rushing back and you feel the soft waves of the pool on your skin again. You smile. Without thinking much, you playfully nudge his shoulder with your own. A soft chuckle parts his lips as he leans into you. Neither of you moves away from the other.

“So,” you say, flinching at how high-pitched you sound. “Is there a Mrs. Joel?”

He laughs. The sound reminds you of an open field with colorful flowers dancing side to side with the wind. Instinctively, you sigh, your lashes kissing your cheeks.

“Nope,” he answers. “What about you?”

You shake your head, “I’ve been single for two years.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” you look ahead, the old couple you spotted before is getting out of the pool. “My heart got broken quite a few times. I think without noticing I closed myself off after my last relationship. I find it hard to open up now and—” you cut off, your gaze drifting back to him. You bark an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and drop your head to your chest. “Aaand, I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. For what it’s worth, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either.”

You grin and raise an eyebrow, “I find that hard to believe.”

Joel smiles but it’s a soft one, like he’s remembering something—or in this case, someone. With unblinking eyes, you wait for him to elaborate. He notices your gaze, his smile stretches into a grin.

“It’s not that interestin’ of a story,” he sighs. “I had my daughter when I was quite young. Mother left. And until Sarah went to college there was no one. After she left…I had a couple of flings but that’s pretty much it. Nothin’ long term.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Uh, yeah.” he answers, scratching the back of his head. You feel kind of bad now that you made him feel awkward. That wasn’t your intention at all. You’re surprised, but you find it to be sweet that he has a daughter. It must’ve been hard to raise her on his own.

Before you can say anything, you sense him pulling back, both emotionally and physically. His shoulder isn’t pressed against yours anymore, the lack of contact makes you ache. He moves his legs languidly under the water, your gaze follows the movement.

“I know it might be awkward. And not ideal. But I would love it if we could get to know each other more.”

Your ears burning, you take his hand into yours, squeezing it tightly. If he’s surprised by your sudden gesture, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t look at you and you squeeze again, drawing his gaze back to you.

“That’s not why I asked. That was probably a bit insensitive of me, I was just surprised and it came out wrong.” you let out a breath of relief when his thumb begins to draw slow circles over your skin. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. “And I would very much like to get to know you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way his entire face lights up. Looking at him proving to be similar to looking into the sun, you lower your gaze and grin. You feel dizzy.

“Does that mean I can ask for your number sunshine?” he asks and leans closer. His warm breath fanning your cheek.

You nod, “Of course.”

The pleasant buzz that thrums in your veins soon shift into one of simmering annoyance. Of course, someone took—no, stole—your umbrella. It’s just your luck. It’s raining cats and dogs and all you can do is watch the heavy drops collide with concrete as you wait outside. You look up to the sky, pleading that it stops. You love the rain, love listening to it, but only if you’re surrounded by your cozy home wrapped in a blanket. Or if you’re swimming.

You could’ve handled a soft drizzle, sometimes you even enjoyed walking under the rain, but not this. You swear one of those drops alone can poke an eye out. It’s deafening. Thunder echoes, and you can’t help but flinch. Everything is so loud. Your body is refreshed, but at the same time, your muscles are drained from all the swimming. Exhausted from the workout and the excitement, all you want is a cozy nook with a steaming cup of tea and a good book.

You don’t have much else to do until the rain stops, therefore, you think of Joel. He’d been truly a splendid surprise. Sometimes life sucked but moments like those made it better. After exchanging numbers, he’d promised to call you as soon as he was back home.

A smile tugs at your lips. You find it cute that he said he called instead of texting you. You’ll get to hear his voice which is a huge plus.

You’re viciously ripped away from your thoughts when a loud honk echoes above the rain. With your hairs standing on edge, you see a truck with the window pulled down. You narrow your eyes. The rain and headlights create a thick fog, making it difficult to see clearly.

“Joel?” you call out, hoping that you’re seeing right.

“Hey,” he answers, leaning over and popping the door open for you. “Hop in.”

You take the first step, a bit uncertain with your movements in fear that it might be an illusion created by the stormy night, but it’s not. The leather seat under you is solid and so is the man sitting next to you. You wipe your face with your sleeve.

“Thanks. You basically saved my ass right now. Some asshole stole my umbrella.”

He grins, “It’s the least I could do.”

The rain pounds relentlessly against the windshield, the sound a chaotic symphony that drowns out everything else. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you flinch as a particularly loud crack splits through the air. You jump in your seat. Joel’s hand lands softly on your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You look at him, surprised, and he meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice gentle as he squeezes.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. His touch is warm and inviting. Like a soft caress that makes your skin tingle. You feel a sudden urge to lean into him, to climb on top of his lap, and allow his wide hands to roam all over your back.

Joel starts the car and drives onto the road. The world outside is a blur of colors and lights. Neon signs flicker in the rain, casting a rainbow of colors on the wet pavement. The buildings are tall and imposing, like ancient giants looming over the city. The headlights of passing cars slice through the darkness, creating sharp streaks of light that dance across your vision.

You watch the world pass by in a daze, lost in thought. The rain is a soothing sound, like a lullaby that whispers you to sleep. Joel’s hand on your thigh is a comforting presence, grounding you in reality.

The rain grows louder, the drops striking the windshield almost violently. Much to your disappointment, he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling a sudden emptiness. You open your eyes, watching as he shifts gears and maneuvers the car through the busy streets.

You lean your head against the window, watching the world outside blur by in a dizzying whirl. You don’t have much to say and that’s okay. His presence isn’t forcing you to make awkward small talk. You’re completely content just being here with him, a moment you’re positive that you’ll never forget, no matter which direction your relationship with him goes.

When you finally pull up to your house, dread washes over you. You want to invite him inside for something warm, as a thank you for rescuing you from the rain. But you’re not entirely sure that you should.

You push back your worries.

“This is me,” you break the silence. "Would you like to come inside for a bit? I have tea and coffee— or perhaps you would prefer wine to warm you up?"

The last addition was meant as a joke, a little bit of humor to break the tension. Joel’s lips are tightly pressed together, his knuckles almost white from how hard he’s squeezing the steering wheel. After grueling moments of silence, he swallows and turns off the car.

“Wine sounds great.”

The sound of your front door closing behind you feels momentous. Ironically enough, you don’t get to open the bottle of wine. You kiss him first, and he follows, pushing you up against the wall with possessive hands. You barely manage to push the door closed. He’s all consuming. Inhaling your chlorine scented skin and drinking lust from your lips. He kneads your breasts in his large palms and you gasp into his mouth, he swallows the sound. Parting away, he licks the seam of your lips before leveling you with a steady gaze.

“I promised myself to take this slow,” he rasps, panting heavily. When the first hints of laughter tickle the back of your throat, he takes hold of your hips and presses them firmly together. You feel the hardness of his length through the fabric of his jeans. Your eyes roll back. “That feels good don’t it—fuck—I just don’t want to fuck this up, you’re really nice and—”

“Joel,” you say, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Calm down. You’re not going to fuck this up. We’re in this together. I really want this, you do too. But if you want to go slow, have that wine, we’ll go slow. But I don’t want you to be stressed out of your mind no matter what you choose, okay?”

He exhales a breath, deep and steady. “Okay,” he says, hands squeezing your hips. “Okay. Sorry ‘bout that. I hope I didn’t scare you off.”

“You could never,” you say, brushing your lips together. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I think I want to show you to a good time, sweetheart.”

“Meaning?”

“I want to fuck you.” he swallows. “If you want it too.”

“Oh, believe me. I do.”

You catch the curve of a mischievous smile before he crashes into you, claiming your lips in a heady kiss. He pushes a leg between your thighs and your grind down, gasping at the friction. Warmth gathers under the tissue of your stomach, everlasting. It’s been so long since you felt like this. The heat of someone tearing you apart and pulling you back again.

A pleasant tingle spreads from your legs up your spine. Joel licks into you, his tongue moving over yours. He nips at your bottom lip. You whine when he parts away, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck. He feels your pulse with his lips. An involuntary giggle leaves you as his mustache chafes the skin. He teeths at the flesh and you grind your hips down once more, wetness growing between your legs.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes shakily. “Show me to the bedroom.”

The trip to the bedroom is a disorienting one; A blur of limbs and kisses being traded with one another. You feel like a teenager, not being able to keep away not even for a second. You don’t bother to close the bedroom door. Joel pulls your shirt off, your ears left ringing at the force of it while your hands fumble with his zipper. Joel chuckles and bats your hands away. The way you furrow your brows goes unnoticed. He dips his head, closing his lips around the tight nipple.

Your legs start to shake. He flicks his tongue, the tight nub pebbling swiftly. Your head falls back, a deep moan coming from the back of your throat. He sucks and moves his jaw, applying pressure. While one hand rests over the curve of your waist, the other promptly toys with your unattended nipple, pinching and twisting until it’s hard and aching.

“Shit—Joel—” you gasp, voice quivering. “It’s been a while, it feels so good. Fuck.”

He parts away from your chest, the tip of his tongue swirling deftly around the areola. His warm breath makes you shiver. “That’s okay honey, I’ve got you.”

“Take this off,” you mumble in a daze, pulling at the hem of his shirt. You bend your knees to cup his erection, it pulses under your palm. “And take these off too. I want you in my mouth.”

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’d like that, huh? My cock in your mouth, cummin’ down your throat as you wrap them pretty lips around me—what a sight it would be.”

“Fuck yes,” you choke out, gently pushing him towards the bed.

You’re almost delusional in the way you speak and move. He’d painted you a picture you so desperately wanted to make into reality. You tug off his shirt as he kicks off his jeans along with his underwear. A sharp exhale parts your lips when you feel his dripping cock against your lower stomach. Heavy and hot, pressing against your skin. You wrap your fingers around the base and they barely close around him. The tips of your ears burn.

“J-Joel, oh my god,” you say with awe. “I-I don’t know if I can take you all.”

His fingers touch the back of your neck and he pulls you between his legs as the two of you tumble onto the bed. He gently squeezes, your body melting at the touch. His lips touch your ear.

“Sure you can, sunshine. We’ll just take it nice and slow, a’right? I’ll fuck this pretty little cunt with just the tip if I have to, it feels good all the same.” his thumb traces your bottom lip, and slowly, he pushes the digit into your mouth. Your eyes fluttering, you suck his thumb. “Just get my dick nice and wet with this dirty tongue of yours. Been twitchin’ since you uttered the words.”

He pops out his thumb and leaves wet streaks across your cheek. You move down his body, dragging your nails down the swell of his stomach as you get closer and closer to his length. Joel hisses when you wetly kiss the tip, a bead of precum forming. You wrap one hand around the base and rest the other over his stomach, fingers caressing the coarse hairs that form a sinful trail.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, lips dancing over the length of his throbbing cock. He moans. “That swimsuit of yours doesn’t do you justice at all.”

“If you continue to talk like that I’m going to bust,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “Please just—” he swallows. “Just stop toyin’ with me.”

Answering him with a throaty hum, you dip your tongue into the slit, groaning at the taste of him. His cock twitches against your lips, smearing precum over the tender swell of it. Parting your mouth wide, you take the bulbous head between your lips and flatten your tongue. You feel a vein that curls underneath his length. You groan and take him deeper. He’s been truly blessed, the width stretching you wide, forcing saliva to dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Slick glistening at the insides of your thighs.

You’re still worried about not being able to take him all. You want to feel every inch of him buried deep inside, and even though Joel assured you that it would be okay, you still want this to go perfectly. It’s been a long time for you both, you want it to feel good for him too.

“Deeper,” he croaks out and when you look up, you find those gorgeous, dazed out, brown eyes looking down at you. “Can you?”

Your lids flutter heavily. Nodding, you force your head down, your chin straining as you take him halfway. Your vision blurs with tears. Spit oozes down his length, your throat convulsing at the pressure.

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he praises through grit teeth, his southern drawl deeper and more noticeable than before. “So fuckin’ well. You feel so good—I ain’t gonna last sweetheart.”

Encouraged by his sudden honesty, you mentally grin. And with more fervor than before, you bounce your head up and down while stroking the rest with your hand. Briefly you remove your lips, swipe your palm over the head and move it back down, coating the rest of him with slick. You take him again, his thighs tightening around your frame, shaking uncontrollably as he forces his hips to remain still.

Moans echo from the back of Joel’s throat, filling the room with his deep cadence. He reaches out for your hand and locks your fingers together, holding you and guiding your hand further up his stomach. You’re a bit unbalanced now. His cock spears almost painfully down your throat. While trying to limit yourself with only the half of his length, his cock twitches, and throbs. You repeatedly swallow around him, your hand starting to shake.

Large drops of precum coat your tongue and go down your throat, his grip on your hand painfully tight. You breathe heavily through your nose. He’s about to come. With a ferality you haven’t felt with anyone before, you push apart your legs and force yourself down against the sheets. The soft fabric doing little when it grazes your aching clit. You moan around him.

Then you find yourself empty. A gasp rips from your throat at the way Joel pulls you off his cock, breathing in heavy pants. Your gaze drops to his cock. The head a beautiful shade of red, glistening with precome and spit. You lick your lips.

“Sorry,” he grunts, pulling you so that you’re straddling his waist. He pushes himself up by the elbows, face only an inch away from yours. “I didn’t wanna come just yet. Need to feel you around me, sunshine.”

He closes the distance and claims you with a devout kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, hips jerking up in a weak attempt to seek you out. You breathe him in. The scent of chlorine and something so undeniable Joel fills your lungs.

“Don’t keep me waiting then,” you grin against his lips. He mimics your expression grinning as he lays back down. He guides you to raise your hips, and briefly, worry crosses your face.

A question quickly follows, “What’s wrong?”

“I…fuck, it’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” but of course, he doesn’t let go and fixes you a look that has you spilling your guts. “It’s just been a while and well. I’ve never actually done it like…this.”

“You never rode someone before?”

You shake your head and bite your bottom lip. Frowning, he touches the abused flesh with his thumb and tugs it away, smoothing it with the pad of his finger.

“We can switch positions. It’s okay.”

“But I want to try it.” your words coming out in a rush, it’s followed by a nervous laughter. “I always did, but my partners usually had other plans. And after a while, I just generally chickened out and stopped asking. I got embarrassed.”

“Oh, honey.”

Your eyes widen upon feeling his arms around you, pulling you into a bear hug. His hand cradles the back of your head and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. You kiss the skin. Warmth blossoming in your chest. Both of you suspended in the moment, breathing each other in and out. Soon, his fingers trace a path down your spine, and a chill spreads at the end of your back.

“Believe me,” he mutters, you feel the movement of his jaw. “I would want nothin’ more than to have you on top of me, takin’ you deep. I’m sorry those assholes made you feel otherwise.”

You choke out a sound, smiling and shaking your head. “It’s not that they were assholes—well, maybe some of them—but maybe I just wasn’t good at expressing myself. Or I just didn’t look…” you clear your throat, his arms tighten around you, forcing the air out of your lungs. “Anyway, it’s not important.”

“You express yourself fine if you ask me.” his thumb skims over your clit and you gasp. The digit slides between your folds with ease, he hums in approval. “And it looks like your body is expressin’ itself quite well too.”

An understanding without words forms between your two. He cups your ass and you lift yourself up by holding onto his broad shoulders. Joel jerks himself with one hand before he motions you to lower yourself. Despite how soaking wet you are, the stretch still makes you wince. You continue a bit further, having to stop when it proves to be more painful than pleasurable. Sliding his one hand back to your front, he leisurely circles around your clit. You clench and dig your nails into his shoulders.

“That’s it, go slow sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. You’re doin’ so good for me. Spreading yourself around my cock like that.”

Feeling yourself becoming loose, you sink further down, only having to stop again a few inches later. You groan in frustration and Joel puts his mouth on your breasts, sucking.

You draw in a long breath, “Is that all of it?”

Joel looks up and allows himself to smile.

“Well, nearly. Just a bit more.”

His mouth moves down and captures your nipple between his lips. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. With a moan, you sink down completely, his hips flush against yours. Joel breaks away from your tender skin, both of you moaning loudly in unison. His head falls back against the bedpost, staring at you between heavy lids. He looks completely blissed out.

Wanting more of the debouched expression, you ever so slightly move up your hips and sit back down again. His eyes squeeze shut, his throat trembling with a wrecked groan. You’re not doing any better, your eyes rolling back as your muscles start to spasm.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet. Shit. Can I move, sunshine? Please?”

“God yes,” you breathe out, your head spinning. His hands cup your rear, helping you to lift halfway off his cock before lowering you again. Electricity runs up your spine. Your cry out his name, pulsing around him uncontrollably. “J-Joel, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” you say apologetically.

“That’s okay,” he groans, voice hoarse. “I ain’t gonna last long either.”

The two of you capture a soft rhythm that works for the both of you. Joel guides the sloppy roll of your hips, and you do your best to move up and down his cock. Your legs aching due to the swimming. You want to go faster, the burning between your legs growing with every grind of your hips. There’s an itch deep inside. An inch that you can’t seem to scratch with the way you’re moving. You whimper and fix Joel a pleading look. His cock twitches.

“You want it harder?” he rasps, lashes fluttering.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Give it to me, Joel. I want you to fuck me hard with this big cock of yours.” you make a show of rolling your tongue and pressing your hips flush against him, grinding yourself into his pelvis.

“The mouth on you, Jesus.” he drawls but with a smile. Your heart skips a beat, a grin of your own touching your lips.

You’re confused when Joel sucks two fingers into his mouth. Not that you’re complaining. You see the pink of his tongue, the glistening spit that coats his thick fingers. Pulling them out, Joel massages your asscheeks and spreads them, you moan as the open air hits your other hole. He brushes two wet fingers over the rim, making you quiver.

“Feels good?”

You nod and he slips one finger, your entire body jolts, your breath catching in your throat. However, you don’t have time to focus on the new sensation. Joel presses his feet into the mattress and with fervor, he starts fucking up into you. Railing you until you’re gasping for air and left feeling nothing else but the heavy stroke of his cock. You shout his name, your lungs burn.

“That’s it make a mess of me, darlin’. Such a good fuckin’ girl. All you need is my help isn’t it? Look at you, doin’ so well for me.” the words he continues to mutter force out a visceral reaction from you. You claw at his chest. Dragging them down as his cock spears into you over and over. The slick sounds echoing throughout the room. You notice him watching where you two connect, he looks hypnotized. His lips parting as he watches his cock disappear into your wet cunt.

He pushes his finger in deeper and you’re suddenly aware of how full you feel. Your arms that keep you upright buckle and you fall down, covering him like a blanket. An apology touches your lips, but before you can, Joel’s lips are already on your temple, kissing and whispering praise all the while continuing to fuck you senseless. He pulls out his finger and slightly lifts your hips for a better angle. You whine at the loss and hear him chuckle.

“Another time, sunshine.”

Your walls start to spasm and contract, his hips start to stutter. His strong steady strokes becoming sloppy and rushed, he pushes you down against him rolling his hips and grinding deeper into you. Fuck. Your head is spinning violently. Your cunt dripping and making a mess of his cock. He rubs into you again, the dark hairs that crown his length stimulating your throbbing clit.

A silent scream shakes your chest. You see white before you squeeze him tight, the force of it making his breath hitch. You gush around him. Slick rolling down his cock and seeping into the sheets. You don’t even notice the wet tears smeared all over your face as you nuzzle him. Waves of pleasure wash over you again and again. Leaving you shaking and panting for air. Joel holds you still, his hands comforting against your heated skin.

Your jaw goes slack when he gently thrusts up again, shushing you when you let out a whine.

“Where do you want me?”

It takes you a while to understand the question. Lifting your head, you give him a blank stare. His eyes glimmer with amusement, a lopsided smile forming on his lips.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Pretty little thing completely fucked out. You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You’re pretty sure you actually purr at his words. You leisurely smile. You lift your hips and push them back down, both of you groaning in delight. He keeps uttering pretty from under his breath, his own composure breaking down. Another orgasm rolls over you, albeit much softer this time, like a fire warming your skin. You sigh happily, kissing him on the lips.

“Where?” he asks, a bit more desperate this time.

“My mouth.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Everything is sloppy and uncoordinated. You’re not even sure how you make your way down between his legs. You’re still throbbing when you suck on the tip, your eyes closing as you taste the mixture of you and himself. You take him as deep as you can, feeling him at the back of your throat. He holds your head but doesn’t force you to the more.

“Sweetheart, move your tongue.”

Your skin prickles at how hoarse he sounds. You happily obliged, stroking the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue. He sucks in a sharp breath, his chest expanding, and on the exhale, he lets out the loudest moan of the night. It comes from the depths of his lungs. His hips jerk, finally spilling down your throat, you swallow him greedily, your walls pulsing with a need to be stretched again.

He comes and comes and comes. There’s so much of it. It floods your mouth, trickling down your chin. You breathe heavily. His cock throbs on your tongue and god you love the feeling.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, that felt so good.” his hands fall limp to his side. With a grin, you release his cock and swallow once more, more audibly this time. His dark gaze drops to your lips. He shakily wipes the come that spilled from your lips, popping it back into your mouth. You lick at the digit eagerly. “I should thank whoever it was that stole your umbrella,” he mumbles.

“We should get them a cake,” you tease, kissing the empty patch on his beard. “So…should we get cleaned up and then…talk?”

He squeezes your hips and then follows the curve of your spine. “Sounds like a plan, sunshine.”

You end up sharing that bottle of wine after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au

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buzz-in-your-veins · 8 months ago

Note

angel dust x insecure transmasc reader smut?

Hi!

Thank you for your ask! I hope I gave it justice!

-if it’s not what you were looking for exactly feel free to leave another ask with more details! It’ll be fun to do it again.-

Perfect Boy<3

Let your boyfriend soothe you.

Then work you up.

CW: Mean Thoughts, PinV, Smut, Oral(reader reviving), clit called cock.

You had been dating Angel for a few months now, and you loved it.

Angel is everything a boyfriend should be. He’s kind, give you flowers, takes you out, and takes you apart so sweetly, always calling you his darling boy as he pushes you higher and higher.

But…

Angel is constantly worried about Valentino seeing you.

It’s sweet. Really it is..

Angel just wants to protect you, keep you safe and secure.

You were always an over-thinker. And this time is no different.

“Sorry, baby boy, not tonight.”

You were barely holding on, and that sent you spiralling.

‘Am I not good enough?’

You smiled softly and told him you understand, and waved him off as he walked out, before you ran to your shared room.

You changed into Angels hoodie, and laid down in bed, trying desperately to ignore the thoughts of not being man enough for your gay boyfriend.

You weren’t entirely successful.

Tears started falling down your face as you were bombarded with thoughts of Angel leaving you for someone else, not being satisfied with you.

When Angel finished his shift, that was how he found you. Curled up in his hoodie, Fat Nuggets cuddled into your chest as you hiccuped on sobs, cheeks wet with tears.

It wasn’t rare for Angel to find you this way, but it still broke his heart everytime.

Carefully climbing onto the bed, Angel took you into his arms whilst trying not to move Fat Nuggets, and hummed to you.

When the hiccups and sobs died down, Angel picked Fat Nuggets up and set him down on the bottom of the bed, before picking you up and cuddling you into his chest.

“Hi Baby, is your head all noisy?”

You nodded wetly against his chest.

“Can you ask it to stop being nasty to my darling boy?”

Angel felt renewed wetness against his chest.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Talk to me handsome?”

You mumbled all the thoughts that had been plauging you, and Angel felt his heart break as you told him you weren’t ‘man’ enough for him to want to stay.

Angel pulled you away from his chest to look in your eyes.

“Sh sh, listen, listen to me okay Mister?”

Angel waited for you to nod before continuing.

“You are all the man I need. Every part of you is perfect. From your fluffy manly hair,” Angel kisses your head. “To these manly feet,” Angel pauses to tickle your toes getting you to giggle, “And every part in between. This handsome body, these toned manly legs, this pretty boyish face, even these adorable manly eyelashes. Every part of you is completely manly and perfect. I love everything about you, even your smelly farts.”

Angel smiled as you giggled again. He noticed Fat Nuggets had snuck out the doggy door, probably going to bug Husk.

“And you know what my favourite part is, Prince? This beautiful masculine smile you have, so don’t cry handsome, my perfect boy has no reason to.”

You’d stopped crying in the middle of his speech, and now your emotions were slipping south.

Angel of course, noticed.

“You know what else I love?”

Angel began to lift his sweater, hands caressing your top surgery scars.

“These marks of your bravery. How pretty your little pecs are, the muscle in your chest, your handsome nipples.”

Your breath hitched as Angels top hands slowly pulled the sweater of, and his lower pair skimmed back and fouth over your nipples, body jolting as he quickly changed tactics to pinch and tug on them, revelling in the pretty sounds he was pulling from you.

“This manly sthomac, allll the way down tho this handsome happy trail.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as Angel began working your pants off, still playing with your nipples.

Pants finally off, Angel continued.

“I wonder where it leads.”

You jolted as his lower hands slowly dragged around your clit.

“This pretty little cock, look how responsive it is.”

You moan and whine, body spasming as Angel played relentlessly with your cock, never letting up his administration, or stopping his words.

“Look at my Princes cock, how perfect it is to play with.”

You screamed as you came on his hand, Angel changing his rythm, gently grinding you through your orgasm.

“Fuck baby, shit.”

Angels voice was low and raspy, and you felt the spiders cock poking you as Angel moved you off his chest and laid you down, before sinking down the bed.

“Lemme taste my prince.”

That was all the warning you got before Angels tounge meet your cock, lapping at the folds around it and coaxing more sounds from you, a few times his tounge dipped inside you, but the majority focus went on your cock, podding and probing the sensitive bundle.

Your back arched as you came with a second scream.

Angel lapped hungrily at the juice that flowed from you.

Before slowing working how way back up your body, trailing kisses over his ‘perfect boy’ as he went.

“Good boy, pretty boy.”

You whined, drunk on the double orgasm and freeing feeling your boyfriend always provided.

Angel slowly pumped his two fingers in your swollen hole, thumb gently grazing your cock, drawing needy whines and pleas from you, before Angel dragged your lips into a soft kiss and pushed his heavy cock into your hole, mumbling how perfect you were against you lips.

You yowled as Angel slammed his cock in fully, eyes rolling back.

Angel repeated the movement, enjoying the noise you were making.

It didn’t take long for Angel to cum, already worked up from the earlier activity’s, and he shoved his cock as far as he could, pushing against your cervix as he did.

At the first pulse of hot cum, your eyes rolled back and you howled as you squirted over Angels cock, blacking out.

When you came too, Angel had cleaned you up and was making the bed. He noticed you were awake.

“Listen, Handsome, you are more than man enough in every way. I love you for all of you, not just some parts. I will always love all of you.”

Your thoughts were soothed as you heard the sincerity in his voice, for now at least.

Angel picked you up and laid you down on his chest in the freshly made bed.

“Sleep now prince, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You feel asleep to the sounds of his breathing, and dreamt of a pretty blond boy with hetrochromia.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

I hope you like this and it lived up to your expectations!

~Vyrus

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #vyrus.is.a.virus.#angel dust smut #angel dust x reader #transmasc #anon ask #hazbin angel dust

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frickingnerd · 2 years ago

Text

Miraculous Masterlist

Adrien Agreste / Chat Noir

↳ Masterlist

Marinette Dupain-Cheng / Ladybug

↳ Masterlist

Luka Couffaine / Viperion

↳ Masterlist

Felix Fathom / Argus

↳ Masterlist

Kagami Tsurugi / Ryuuko

can't stop thinking about you - oneshot

kagami's 'secret' crush - drabble

secretly dating kagami tsurugi - headcanons

kagami with an overprotective s/o - headcanons

poly relationship with felix and kagami - headcanons

Chloe Bourgeois

poly relationship with marinette & chloe - headcanons

chloe bourgeois when she's jealous - headcanons

chloe with a sick s/o - headcanons

Nathaniel Kurtzberg

nathaniel having a crush on you - headcanons

poly relationship with marc & nathaniel - headcanons

Marc Anciel

poly relationship with marc & nathaniel

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cyberneticfallout · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

#hope you enjoy my gulper description lmao #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #smoothie and the ghoul

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heartthrobin · 2 years ago

Text

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

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@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

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