#it’s his kind eyes and gentle smile (sweet as sugar and fake as fuck)

[lady-djarin]

need you now

agent whiskey x f!reader (one shot)

warnings: feels, sweet jack, teasing, yearning, age gap, drinking, reader is a 'cool girl' who drinks whiskey and beer, retired!jack, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, cliff hanger...maybe, sorry!

word count: 3,228

inspired by: need you now by lady a

“Come on! It will be fun, there's cute cowboys there!”

You sighed. You liked quiet bars, not ones like this loud and rowdy one that your friends wanted to explore. You lived in a small town in Georgia and were used to the quiet life of it all. “I just don't know if that's my scene, guys.”

“It's my birthday, please? For me?” Your friend gave you her fake puppy dog eyes that always seemed to get her what she wanted. 

“Fine… but I'm not dancing!”

“Yay! At least you're going, that's all I can ask for!”

—---

You walked into the bar with your best friend and her friend from high school, your small group making your way to a high top table. The bar was one of the bigger ones of your town but it was still quite small of a building. The dance floor, tables and bar were all pushed fairly close together and every single part was crowded with people. It was a Friday night so that would explain the crowd as you secure your table and get settled. 

“I'm gonna grab us a drink!” you yelled slightly over the music and the other girls were already spying on a group of men nearby. You weaved your way through the mass of bodies, mostly smelling of sweat or alcohol. You reached the bar and flagged down a bartender. “Hey, can I get a Corona and two margaritas please?”

The bartender nodded and turned to grab your beer out of the fridge and gave it to you before going to make the margaritas. You leaned on the bar and looked around while waiting on the drinks and turned to your left to find a pair of brown eyes already looking your way. The brown eyes were accompanied by soft looking lips and a black Stetson. The subtle lines on the corner of his eyes told you he was not your age but attractive nonetheless. He had that classic southern handsome face that just made butterflies erupt in your gut. Looking at him felt like looking at the sun. He cracked a charming crooked smile at you and couldn't stop the same from happening to you.

“Well, hello pretty lady,” the slight drawl in his voice made your heart stop. You could immediately tell he was a classic womanizer, he knew how to get into a woman's pants faster than you could blink. You wouldn't be so easy. 

“In your dreams,” you turned back toward the bar, watching the bartender make the drinks. 

“Oh believe me, you are sugar.”

This fucking guy.

“Be a little original, then we can talk,” the bartender set your drinks on the counter and you handed him cash. You walked away before the cowboy could say another word. 

Of course your friends had seen the man hitting on you and begged for you to go back there. You refused, telling them how you knew his type.

—--

“He’s the type to fuck you and never talk to you again.”

“Maybe you need that! Maybe you need a good fuck.”

She kind of had a point, you hadn't had almost any intimate human contact in a while and he was hot. You weren't really the hookup type but maybe you wanted to be but at this point you were four– no, five beers in and not really caring. You looked around and found the man leaning against the bar talking to a small very annoying looking blonde girl. With a new found courage, you marched your way over to the tall man, was he this tall before?, his attention quickly turning to you.

“We’re dancing.”

You weren't asking, you were telling him. His attention was long gone from the other girl and she was clearly annoyed as he followed you out on the dance floor. As you wove your way through the crowd, he grabbed your wrist, not in a possessive way but enough to make you turn and he spun you into a gentle hold. The two of you spun and laughed as the song continued, hands roaming bodies and cheeks pressed together.

“What's the name of the woman who will haunt my dreams?” You almost wanted to keep up the charade, make him work a little harder. “What name should I moan while I touch myself tonight?” 

You nearly collapsed right then and there. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, meeting his that were already darker than before. You practically lunged forward, your face crashing into his, lips melting into each other, tongues fighting for dominance. His hands never stopped in their exploration of your form, one holding the back of your head, never letting you come up for air. 

His lips were next to your ear now, his breath warm on your skin. “Wanna get out of here?”

Normally you would never go home with a stranger but there was something about him, and the many beers in your system, that told you to go for it. You found your friends and asked them if they were ok with you going with him, which of course they encouraged. You walked outside the bar to find the mysterious man leaning against his passenger side door of his old Bronco. You haven't felt this way in a long time, you were almost giddy. He made you feel giddy.

“Ready sugar?” 

“Hell yea,” he opened the door as you hopped into the convertible and he started the engine. It was a warm summer night in Georgia and the breeze made you feel like you were flying. The radio was playing some sweet country song as you drove through the empty streets late that night. 

Every so often he would look over and see your face scrunched up in joy, throwing our head back on the seat singing along to the song playing. He had not intended to find someone so special tonight but here he was, feeling his heart stop when he saw you smile. You were beautiful of course, but there was something else there under the surface that he wanted to explore. 

You looked up to find that he had parked on a small cliff overlooking the city, the stars on full display. You gasped as you saw the bright stars above you, expecting to end up at his place or yours. 

“Jack. My name is Jack.”

You smiled and tested his name for yourself. “Jack…” your drunkenness made it hard to form words. You told him your name and watched his eyes dance on your face. You were both leaning into each other now, the bench seat preventing any barrier from separating you two. His hand caressed your cheek, his large thumb stroking your skin. You couldn't help your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, your skin felt like it was on fire. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, you felt light and content and you knew it was because of him. His lips were on yours again, everything fitting just right between you as you slid closer and felt the whole length of his body against yours. 

You were starting to feel dizzy, and not from the beer. His presence was overwhelming, like the feeling in the air right before lightning struck. You breathed in his scent, a heady mix of burnt wood and whiskey. As your mouths finally separated, you saw the reflection of the low moonlight in his deep auburn eyes and you knew that he was going to mean more than just a one night stand. You just didn't know how yet. 

—--

You smiled down at your phone seeing the name flash on the screen.

“Jack Daniels” 

You couldn't believe it when he said that was his real name. The two of you had been texting all day every day for days now, since spending the night with him. You didn't sleep together but you did spend all night talking about everything under the stars. 

2:08pm - Jack: Oh you better believe it sugar, I’m the best pizza maker there is.

2:11pm - You: Well, you'll just have to show me in person then.

2:11pm - You: Maybe tonight?

That was earlier that afternoon and you hadn’t heard anything since. It was hard not to be disappointed, you were having good conversation non-stop and to suddenly be cut off was weird. You tried to continue with your days without thinking of him but your mind kept wandering back to that charming man.

—--

It was almost midnight and you were restless beyond belief, not able to get comfortable or let your mind calm itself. You tossed and turned for hours until this point, finally deciding to go into the kitchen and find anything to help you sleep. You rummage through the cabinets and fridge and finally decide to pour yourself a drink, a strong one. The golden liquid swirled in the glass as you poured it, the scent hitting your nose immediately. 

Perched on your kitchen counter, you emptied and refilled your class countless times until you were past tired and officially moved on to drunk. Scrolling mindlessly through social media was making your head hurt when you finally made it to your text messages. The name at the top of the screen made your heart sink.

1:14am - Jack: Hi sweetheart.

Fuck.

Nothing for almost a week and then this. What is he thinking?  This isn't fair but at the same time you are just excited he texted. Your pulse was through the roof as your fingers ghosted on the keys, trying to find something to say back. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen proved difficult in your state. In a very spontaneous decision you dialed Jack’s number before your mind could catch up. It only rang once before you heard his beautiful voice come through the speaker. 

“Darlin’?”

“J-Jack, hi.” 

“What are you doing up?” He sounded so groggy and sexy over the phone. 

“I-I don't really know,” you couldn't help the giggle that slipped out. “Couldn't sleep I guess.” 

You both sat in silence for a while, wanting to say what you truly felt but afraid to disturb the peace. 

“Ja–”

“Hon-,” you both spoke at once. 

“Jack, I’m a little drunk… and, I need you…now,” you couldn't help the words coming out of your mouth. “You don’t have to… I ju– uhg. I’m sorry...”

“Stay right there and text me your address.”

You didn't really trust your drunk brain at the moment, but did as you were told and sent him your address. Anticipation was eating away at you in the time it took him to drive over. It felt too long and not long enough, you rushed to try and become presentable. You tore into your bathroom and fixed your hair and face as best as you could but you knew he wouldn't believe you wore makeup in the middle of the night so you steered away from the mascara. Your nerves were on fire as you prepared for Jack’s visit. You tried to tidy up your apartment as best as possible, throwing dirty clothes in the closet and hiding embarrassing things. Just as it dawned on you that this man is a perfect stranger, you heard a soft knock at the door. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tiptoed across the floor to the door. Suddenly the small shorts and large T-shirt you wore felt like not enough and too much all at once, but there was no time now. You paused in front of the door and took a breath to try and clear the fog in your head but you knew it was futile. The door creaked open to reveal a slightly disheveled but still very handsome cowboy, minus the hat. 

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a moment, then he was on you. Pulling your face into a heated kiss, locking his lips onto yours. He could taste the whiskey on your lips and added that to the list of things he already adored about you. His body pushed against yours until you both hit the wall opposite the door, kicking it closed with his boot. The initial introduction stunned you, putting you in the mercy of this man's will, but now that you had your senses back, you could do what you had always wanted.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and drawing moans from his chest. Your hands pulled at the cotton of his shirt and the jeans on his hips, trying to get his body closer. It was almost frustrating that you both still had clothes on and you pulled away to tell him that when he locked his arms around your thighs and wrapped them around his torso. You ended up on the couch, straddling his hips while never breaking contact with his lips. The alcohol in your veins was spurring you on, forcing your hips to grind into his. Every movement of your hips was drawing small groans from his chest and caused his hands to roam further on your skin. 

“Oh God sugar… I- I have been thinking about y-you for days,” his voice was just above a breath. 

“Jack…”

Before you realized, Jack’s sturdy arms flipped your body and your back hit the couch with a soft thud. You giggled as he kissed your face and neck, stopping to suck a mark into the spot right near your collarbone. The feeling of his lips was making your head spin and your toes curl, the arousal licking up your spine like a fever. You could almost feel your very soul surrender to this man, begging to be claimed by him. The slight scratch of his stubble somehow made his lips feel even softer as they danced across your skin. His tongue poked out to lick from the bottom of your neck up to your ear, your breath hitched as you felt his on your skin.

“Tell me… tell me you want this doll, or I can leave… please.”

You wanted nothing more in the world. “Yes God, Jack please.”

The sound of you begging for him made his cock jump. All he could think about since that night at the bar was how you would feel under him, what you taste like and how you could scream for him. He made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head to reveal your soft chest. His lips attacked the peaks of your breasts, causing the warmth to pool low in your pelvis. 

He felt like a man possessed, he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more, he wanted everything. He kissed his way down your body until he came to your thin cotton shorts, that you most definitely were not wearing with underwear. Your breathing skipped as he peeled the fabric off your legs and kissed you the entire way down. His lips were like fire on your already heated skin, blazing the trail to where he wanted you most. His hands and tongue found their way to your dripping center. 

You were trying to calm your breathing as he slowly spread your legs and settled between them. You had never had a man take so much care in how you were feeling and how your experience was. It made your heart swell. The sight of his large body that was fully clothed between your legs made you want to cover yourself on instinct but his strong arms were holding your legs apart. His tongue made its way to your delicate center ever so slowly like he was trying to drive you mad. He finally circled around your sensitive clit, making you cry out in ecstasy. He worked his lips and tongue over you like you were his last meal. There was no denying this man knew what he was doing and wasn't afraid to show it. 

You bucked your hips into him, trying to gain more friction, needing more than he was giving you. He was only using his mouth and you knew if he used his fingers you would be done for. As you ground yourself into his face, he sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth and used his tongue to make you see stars. 

“Jack, oh god please…” you whined as you anchored your fingers in his hair. “M-more.”

Suddenly you felt his mouth move away from you and you whined at the loss. You looked down to see his face covered in your slick, shining in the dim light. You blushed at the obscene sight. Just when you thought he was about to stand up and move up your body, he brought his hand up to his face and stuck his two middle fingers between his lips. Your mouth gaped open at the sight and a breathy moan followed when he circled those fingers over your center. He slowly pushed his digits into your wet core and you both groaned at the feeling. 

“Mhmm, you're gonna feel so good baby girl,” his eyes roamed over your body, watching as you reacted to his movements. “But I want you to come for me first.”

Jack brought his mouth back down to your clit as his fingers started to curl into the spot inside you that made you see stars. He worked his mouth and fingers together, creating a rhythm that made you dizzy with lust. Men never did this, never put your desire first, no matter what they wanted. Jack was another story, he was clearly there for you and you alone. His fingers and tongue were moving in tandem, drawing pure pleasure from you. The pressure in your lower stomach was growing by the second, almost to the point of pain but you never wanted him to stop. He kept up his movements and knew you were close when your breaths came quicker and you tightened around his fingers. Jack was nothing if not a gentleman and he proved that tonight, making sure your pleasure came first. You rocked your hips into his face, grinding against him with your hands pulling his slightly curly hair. You climbed closer to your peak sooner than ever before, it was like this man had a spell over you, something that forced the pleasure from you. 

“Fu-fuck, baby– I..I’m so…” you were officially mad with lust.

“I know honey, let go for me.” Jack’s voice was like honey, somehow drawing you closer to the edge.

He settled into a steady but harsh rhythm, almost moving the couch below you. You knew you were right there, right on the edge of the cliff about to fall off. The blood in your veins burned with pure passion. 

Without much warning, your body ignited. Your orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, fast and sudden. Your lungs screamed for air and your vision went white. You dug your nails into his hair, locking him in place and he rode you through your high. The muscles in your core constricted around his fingers and your back arched to compensate for the intense feelings. 

You had never cum like that in your life, ever. This man was like no one you had ever met.

“Fuck… what– what was that?,” your voice didn't sound like your own. 

“Oh sugar… we're just getting started.”

------

MASTERLIST

#agent whiskey smut #din dijarin x reader #fanfic #reader fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #star wars smut #star wars

[kashimos-hajime]

the girl in purple (1/8) | r.b.

summary: In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. Or, four years ago, Bertholdt asked for a favour and you said yes.

WARNINGS: swearing, ass jokes, flashbacks and flashforwards, mostly fluff and banter, pining and angst at the end, bertholdt is our soft best friend <3 pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.0k

a/n: pt 1 of 8 of a birthday present for the legend, the icon, the bad bitch herself, ISABEL!!@!@!@ @luciilferss​ ALSO, song not mine! it’s the sea shanty called wellerman.

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

You sigh, wiping the back of your hand before grabbing the next hay bale that needed to be lifted to the loft. Your back aching, you grit your teeth as you lug it towards the ladder. It’s the last one and after a sweaty afternoon, you just want to get into bed. Hopefully Annie did end up getting you supper—you had to work through it just so Shadis didn’t get your ass up tomorrow to finish the job.

“Here, let me help.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, glancing to see your savior and a warmth shoots through your body when you realize it’s Bertholdt. “You know if Shadis catches you helping me, it’s going to be hell to pay, right?” The boy smiles, shrugging, and you can’t help your own grin as he gestures for you to climb up. Skirting up the ladder, you turn around to take the hay bale and pushing it towards the corner before jumping down and dusting off your hands. Stable clean-up is never fun, but with autumn right around the corner, they all want to get a head start before the chill sets in.

“I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“I knew there had to be a reason you were in here,” you tease. “Shoot.”

“Well, we have visiting privileges next weekend,” Bertholdt continues as you walk around the stables, picking up tools as you make your way towards where the broom is leaning against the wall. The tall boy ambles after you and you shoot him an amused look, curiosity pricking at your fingers. 

Half-way through their training in the corps, and Bertholdt still manages to keep you guessing. You don’t know what it is about him, but your friend’s always been the quiet one. It’s part of why you like being around him, but you just wish his friend liked you. Annie seems more than fine with you.

Reiner, on the other hand, can barely even look at you. It’s a real downer.

“I was just wondering…”

“You should ask Annie,” you cut off before he can finish, picking up the broom to begin sweeping the stray hay into a neat pile. Bertholdt’s spine goes ramrod straight and his cheeks redden so intensely you can’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she would say yes. You guys are friends, right?”

“Yes, but we’re—we’re not—why would I ask Annie, specifically?” he stammers. The horses neigh as you walk past, their necks stretching out for treats but you ignore them, heading for the entrance. “She could go with a bunch of other people.”

“Yeah, but she always goes with me.” Glancing at Bertholdt, your eyes narrow when he smacks his forehead, covering his flustered expression miserably. Poking him in the gut with the handle of your broom, you continue, “And she only likes a few people here. You’re one of them, Bertl.” 

“Well, if you think so. I mean, you’re her dorm mate, not me, so… argh!” he groans as you walk past him, sweeping. “You’re not helping!”

“Helping with what?” you ask innocently, not paying him a second look. You hear him let out a sigh as you brush hay to the back of the stables. “You’re the one who wanted a favour.”

“Yeah, and I still need to tell you.”

“Literally no one’s stopping you, Bertholdt.” Another resigned sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ask me. I promise I won’t tease you for the next ten minutes.” Turning around, you rest your broom against the post between two stalls. A horse nudges at your face and you scratch the stallion’s chin as Bertholdt walks closer. His eyes inspect your own expression, searching for trickery, but you only grin.

Then, he drops his crossed arms and says, “Someone wants to ask you out next weekend for our visit to Trost.”

“Er, okay? Why didn’t they just ask me themselves?” Crossing your own arms, you lean against the post, the lantern hanging above your head and casting everything in a warm glow. It softens Bertholdt’s smile as he shrugs mischievously. “Who was it?”

“Reiner.”

“Reiner?” His name is punched out of you, sharp with shock, and your broom slides off the post, clattering to the floor between the two cadets as you stare at Bertholdt. 

“Mhm?”

“Reiner Braun.”

“Yep.”

“We know the same one, don’t we?”

“Blond, makes ass jokes, this tall?” he shoots back, raising a hand that comes just near his ear. You nod. “Yeah.”

“But he hates me.”

“What? No, he doesn’t. Why would you think that?” Bertholdt’s eyebrows knit together and you stare at him incredulously, not sure if he’s joking or not. Shaking your head, you let out a scoff and bend down to pick up your broom to continue your sweeping. Mind a swirl, you try to reconcile the Reiner, who has never said more to you than ‘pass the grease’ during ODM maintenance and ‘you have dirt on your chin’ after forest exercises, with the Reiner who had to ask Bertholdt to ask you out for him.

Sounds fake, but you digress.

“Okay,” you drawl, unable to help the disbelief from creeping into your voice. “This was a good attempt at a joke, but you need to try harder next time.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Why would I ever believe you?”

“Because I would never li—make something up like that,” he says, correcting himself, and you send him a strange look. “Just… when we get to Trost, you know that bakery that sells the stuffed cream buns. The one you mentioned before?”

“Yeah. Annie likes them,” you inform him pointedly, and Bertholdt’s mouth drops open to argue but he seems to think better of it this time.

“Yes, that one.” Fighting a furious blush on his cheeks, he continues, “If you’re there at noon, you’ll see I’m not lying.”

“And if I’m not there?”

“Reiner will be very sad for the rest of his life,” Bertholdt declares and you can’t help your serious expression from sliding off. “Will you please just consider it?”

Staring at your friend, you study his expression. It’s completely genuine, open, eyes wide and you feel a part of you melting at how adorable he is. For such a tall guy, he’s so goddamn gentle it blows your mind he’s a fighter. You can’t see him hurting even so much as a fly.

It’s for that reason you relent. Because Bertholdt’s never gone out of his way to scheme your downfall. He doesn’t have that in him. “Fine,” you say after a moment. “Fine, I’ll consider it.”

.

When Reiner steps back into the port city, he can’t help but think what he always thinks when he gets off a battlefield. Four years, and every thought is the same. Routine, almost. Or maybe, a habit to keep something alive.

And he almost takes comfort in it. That you would’ve loved it here. In Marley—Liberio, or otherwise. There are so many kinds of sweets, pastries, so many sights to see—the water stretches on for miles and miles, and you could’ve tried seafood. Maybe you would’ve liked it.

You never tried seafood. He promised. He promised—

Fucking hell. 

He steps out of the barracks, insides twisting into a tight knot as the sun blinds him. Lifting a hand, he squints and blinks, trying to get used to the brightness as people pass him by. Galliard’s voice trails after him like a ghost, and he scowls to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink, and his body aches in places so deep he can’t rub it out.

“I saw you through her memories. You acted like the tough, reliable type. Not at all like yourself. And you were with that girl. Who was she to you, anyway, Reiner? Because my brother would have never cozied up with the enemy.”

Cozied up with the enemy. It’s as much as implying fraternization as anything and Reiner had barely chained back the words that would’ve torn both him and Galliard to shreds.

Don’t you fucking dare reduce her to just some promise I broke ever again. It stopped meaning something to me years ago.

Shaking his head free of Galliard’s voice, an image of you flashes through his mind to replace it and the urge to send a fist into his own face lances down his arm, but he barely restrains himself from doing so. Instead, he tightens his hand until his nails dig into his palm.

You’re always the one thing he can’t shake, nor does he think he wants to. 

Hollow, his feet drag his battered body towards the harbour. 

As he walks along the water, he hear some of the fishermen whistle and sing their shanties. It takes him a moment to recognize they’re all singing the same song, and he’s thrown back to when he came to the port the first time he was to go off to Paradis, how he committed the shanties to memory so he could take something with him to what was supposed to be an Island of Devils.

It makes his entire body ache, the uplifting tune filling his body up until he can’t possibly breathe. The way the sailors all sing together, smiling at each other—the camaraderie.

“Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum, one day when the toungin’ is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He misses that the most.

.

The sun is hanging in the centre of the sky as you glance from your plate to your surroundings. The fountain is full of life, people milling around the edges, tossing coins in and making wishes, and you hide a smile behind your hand when you watch a group of kids trying to flick their coins to the top most basin of the structure. The tiny plink-plink is barely heard, but either way, their groans of disappointment are far more amusing.

It helps pass the time at least, while you waste away your afternoon waiting for someone you’re not even sure will come. Dressed in a white blouse tucked into a long dark purple skirt that covers your pants, you cross one leg over the other as you wait.

You don’t even know why you’re here. Bertholdt had all but avoided your questions for the past week, and Annie didn’t budge, although, it’s harder for the blonde to slip. Being bunkmates helps, but not that much.

You keep people-watching, glancing up at the sky occasionally to see if any birds pass over, your bread untouched. Glancing up and down the street, you rest your chin glumly on the palm of your hand, elbow resting on the table. 

No pretty blond head in sight. 

Groaning, you lift your head when one of the waiters approaches, asking if you wanted anything more. You shake your head, a warmth spreading over your face and watching him go when a shadow falls over your table. 

“Oh, you got something to eat already.” 

Head jerking to the voice, you look up in surprise at whoever’s blocking your sunlight. Standing upright, your chair clatters against cobblestone as you clear your throat.

“You’re actually here,” you blurt out to both of their surprise and Reiner rocks back on his heels, running a hand through his short hair. His eyebrows struggle to meet his hairline and he smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry I’m late. Uh, sit down. I just… got lost.” You sink back into your chair and he takes the seat down across from yours nervously. He’s dressed in a pale green button up and darker slacks, but for once, he’s not scowling at you and you offer a slight smile. “How… how are you?”

“I’m okay. Slow morning.” He nods. You glance at your plate and nudge it towards him awkwardly. “I got it for you. It’s my favourite. I dunno what Bertl told you about me, or… why I’m even here, honestly.”

He picks up the bun tentatively, and you look down at your boots as he takes a bite, too nervous to watch his reaction.

What if he hates sweet things? What if he can’t drink cow milk? Don’t you remember? What if it makes him shit his pants—

“Oh, wow. I need to come to this place more often,” Reiner mumbles, taking another huge bite and your gaze flits to his face as he chews. His eyes are focused solely on the bun in a way that reminds you a lot like Sasha, and the corner of your mouth pulls into a pleased hint of a smile. “This is heaven…”

“You like it?” 

A noise escapes the blond and eyes jerk to meets yours as if he just remembered you were there and you tear your eyes away, clasping your hands together on the table. You close your eyes. Can the embarrassment just swallow you up already?

Reiner clears his throat, taking the cup of water left out for him after a quick point and your nod. He drains it to buy them both time, and your thumbs rub together. If you just walk away now, would it be too bad? You could probably find Annie or Jean pretty easily. Bertholdt’s probably just exploring the city with… if you had to hazard a guess, maybe Armin? They both like the architecture—stuff like that.

Honestly, you have no idea.

Porcelain rests against wood as Reiner nods. “I do. I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”

“Er, yeah. Since I was a kid. We didn’t have much, uh, variety, so stuff like this was kinda a delicacy. I grew up at this orphanage where we worked the fields.” You shift in your seat as Reiner continues to eat, and you sigh silently to yourself. Why did you give up an afternoon looking at paint supplies with Jean for an awkward date like this?

Wait, this is a date right? That’s what Bertholdt said. Ask you out. Those were his words, right?

“Where are you from?”

“Just inside Wall Maria, so when Shiganshina was breached, we had more time to move inward,” you explain briefly. “But we mostly ate what we grew for crops. I mean, it’s not like we could buy cream buns every day, you know?” Reiner nodded silently, and you give him an uneasy smile, feeling the need to elaborate. “Ever since we joined the corps, they send me money for birthdays and stuff. I don’t know.” You clear your throat. “Anyway, I just thought you might like the bun.”

“Even though you think I hate you?”

“Wha—“ A strangled noise comes out of your mouth. “Who told you that?”

“Why would you think that, anyway?”

“Because all you do is glare at me,” you say pointedly. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shoot him a narrowed look. “And scowl. And you generally avoid being anywhere near me. I mean, do I stink to you or something, Braun, because I have news for you—“

“I don’t hate you. I actually really like you,” he tells you bluntly, cutting your rant in half, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Reiner looks down at the empty plate, crossing his own arms and leaning forward on them. 

“Y-you like me?” you stammer and his cheeks redden.

“I mean, if Annie likes someone, I’m inclined to believe that they’re worth my time.”

Frowning, your shoulders slump. Gears turning, your expression scrunches up as you think aloud. “But, you asked Bertholdt to ask me out for you. Unless this is a dumb dare—wait.” You sit upright, twisting around to see if any of the other boys are milling around the plaza. Scanning for brown hair, or grey hair, or even blond hair, your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that someone’s watching you embarrass yourself but a hand on your elbow brings your gaze reeling back to Reiner.

A smile curls his lips impishly, but his eyes are resolute, calmer. Even still, he looks like he’s trying to fight a small panic rising up inside him, just like you are as he tells you to relax.

“This isn’t a dare,” he says. “I’m not that cruel.”

“I’ve seen you do worse to Titan dummies.”

“Exactly. I just wanted to get to know you better. Bertholdt offered to help me out since you guys are already friends, and I thought what the hell.”

You turn that explanation over in your head tentatively and a part of you recognizes it makes sense. Despite your hesitation, you know you only said yes because it was Bertholdt who asked you.

Otherwise, how inclined were you to say yes if it had been Reiner stalking up to you and asking you to hang out in Trost? How likely would it have been that you would be sitting here instead of walking along the stalls with Sasha and Connie?

“I’m kinda ashamed I don’t know you that well,” Reiner continues, fighting off tones you can’t decipher laced in his voice. Your brow furrows. “But I want to fix that, if you’d let me.” 

Dazedly, you repeat, “Fix… that?”

He nods and you simply stare at him, trying to get your mouth to work. It’s like he stole all the words from your mouth and time seems to slow as your lips part.

Absently, you realize his hand is still touching your elbow, fingers firm but not tight, and you swallow, studying his expression. Golden light plays on his face, sharpening the shadows of his nose and cheeks and lips, and yet everything about him seems to soften. Normally, you see him as hard rigid lines, like the shape of armour, and there is always an imposing aura around him that has become more muted now that he’s sitting beside you.

And you believe it. That he doesn’t hate you.

Maybe he really, really doesn’t, and you’d be an idiot if you don’t take up the offer.

So you stand up abruptly, and pull your arm out of his grip before slipping your hand into his.

“Fine,” you annouce, pulling him up. His eyes widen and you lead him away from the café with a small grin to yourself. A new plan begins to formulate in your mind as they step into the welcoming sun. Reiner’s long strides catch up to yours and he falls into step beside you. His stare burns into your cheek and you only tighten your grip on his hand as you lift your chin haughtily at him. “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but then a smug smile pulls at his mouth and he squeezes your hand back. “Sounds perfect, creampie. I promise, I’ll be perfectly honest.”

“Creampie?” you repeat dumbly, eyebrows shooting up and a horrible burning licking at your heart. Reiner gives you a vulgar smile and you let go of his hand, shaking your head and smacking his arm before looking down at the ground. Half of you wishes the ground would open up and swallow you whole—the other half thinks you’ll die of embarrassment before that. “How do you even know what that is?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You straighten up, spine straight as an arrow. Flustered, you stutter, “That’s none of your business.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Guess that was your first question, then, huh? Bold start. Surprised me, too, creampie, so that gets you bonus points.”

“What? Wait—no! That doesn’t count!”

.

Walking past the hospital every day, it feels almost ritual to look past the gates and into the courtyard. Sometimes there are patients milling around, doing their daily physical activity, or nurses and other workers walking through to get a break from all the depressing shit that must be going on in there, and Reiner always, always, wonders if he should be in there with the rest of them.

It’s why he turns his head on reflex now, peering through iron-wrought gates. No one’s inside except for a pair walking through the path and he stops for a moment, watching. 

One of them is most definitely a woman, a hat covering her head and a long coat the shade of plums. A white Eldian armband is stark against the shade of her clothes. Meanwhile the other looks like he’s been dragged through hell. With one leg, he hobbles along with his crutch, black hair streaming past his shoulders, and he’s ragged, white shirt kind of messy from where Reiner stands. The Eldian armband is wrapped tight along his bicep. But he stands straight-back, shoulders set, the gait of a soldier. Pride keeps him up, not strength.

He’s too far away to hear them speak, and they stick to the shadows of the hospital, but after a short moment, the woman wraps an arm around the one not desperately holding onto the crutch, leaning in closer towards the man as if he has the most riveting thing to say.

For a moment, it is not a woman in a purple jacket and a veteran with one leg but two cadets walking the streets of Trost, sunlight shining down on them warmly. The blond boy leans to listen to the girl beside him, smiling until he thought his cheeks would fall off.

“This is your last question, Reiner. Make it count.”

“Hm… alright, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do? No Titans, no soldiers. Let’s say there was no war at all and you had unlimited resources, yadda, yadda, yadda…”

“Oh? Hm… I’d want to live where there’s a lot of water. Like a lake or something. I’d get to try all these foods I’ve never thought of before, and I’d, uh… I don’t know what I’d do for money. I guess I’d figure it out somehow.”

“Chopping down wood sounds fun.”

“Yeah, right! I’d rather chop my fingers off. Hm… Maybe I could raise some kids, like I was raised. Give them a home.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I dunno. I like being responsible for things. It makes me feel like I’m needed, I guess. I don’t want a kid to grow up lonely like I did.”

“That… that sounds nice.”

“You could visit, you know. As long as you chop the firewood.”

Reiner blinks, and the two are gone. Not a hint of them are in sight, and a soft breath slips out between his lips. He must’ve been seeing things.

Shaking his head to himself, he turns away.

.

The past year and a half has been turbulent since you became friends with Reiner, but for some reason, you don’t think you would change the thing. 

Not even when Connie would come at ghastly hours in the morning because “CAN YOU PLEASE TELL REINER TO STOP SNORING? We would but we’re too afraid of being crushed by the weight of his entire body. Thank you! You’re the best, seriously.”

Or when they’re studying and Reiner makes one too many jokes about how he could fuck a Titan, despite Bertholdt’s resigned sighs and you throwing a book at him, and it only gets you, “Keep acting like that and I’ll take a bite out of your juicy ass next, creampie,” and a heat that kisses at your face.

Not even after reclaiming Trost and losing yourself in his arms.

You feel something inside you shatter as the smell of ash tickles at your nose. Walking past the combat medics base they set up for the parameter of the recovery effort, you don’t even look up at any of your friends still left as you walk past. Your entire body burns from the aftermath of Trost, and you wonder if you’ll be able to even get up in the morning as you limp over to a secluded alleyway and lean against the stone.

You don’t know if you’ve ever fought for that long or hard in your life, and you can’t feel your legs anymore as you sink to the floor.

Too many bodies. There are too many bodies.

“Hey.”

Looking up, you pull your mask down when Reiner stands before you. Tearing the fabric off your neck, you draw your knees up and rest your arms on top of them, the mask hanging off your fingers limply. A strange relieving wave washes over you to know he’s still here, even surrounded by so much death.

“Hi,” you murmur. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agrees simply, leaning in beside you and sliding down. Their knees knock into one another as he tugs his own mask down. Sweat glistens along his skin and his sleeves are rolled up as he clears his throat. “I’m glad you made it out.”

You smile faintly at him but it flickers out before it can find a place on your face. Looking at your hands, you imagine the rough skin of calluses forming on your palms still and you wish you could rip your gloves off but every part of you is too exhausted to move now. Softly, you tell him, “I’m glad you made it out, too. There are a few of us I haven’t really caught sight of. I know Eren’s squad is dead. I—“ you stop yourself. No way Reiner is interested in the fact that you had taken their deaths in stride because you had to in the moment and now you don’t think you can feel at all— “but… Marco. I haven’t seen him in days. Jean hasn’t seen him either.”

“M-Marco?” Reiner whispers and your eyes lift to look at him. “You haven’t found him yet?” Gaze widening at the colour draining from Reiner’s face, your stomach flips and a dread fills your entire being as you sit upright, your legs sliding down, your arms falling to the ground to prop yourself up. Lungs tightening, your lips part as if to form his name but no sound comes out.

You know what his silence means. His silence is death spelt out in glaring red letters—the same shade as blood. 

But Marco?

Why Marco? A caustic voice screams inside you and your nails dig into the cobblestone as Reiner turns his face away, jaw clenching. Trying to breathe, the air stalls in your throat and your gut clenches as your gaze drifts to the street full of combat medics and doctors, other soldiers who still walk. What—what do you mean Marco isn’t one of them? You want to grab Reiner by the jacket, shake him until he makes sense, but instead you search for freckles behind every mask, stumbling to your feet. Marco never did anything wrong. He was supposed to join the MPs. He was our… our leader. He never did anything wrong.

He never did anything wrong. Never. Never. Not Marco. It can’t be. The thought tumbles through your head as you push yourself to your feet but your knees nearly give in on the first step and you stumble to the other side of the alleyway with a harsh noise. Shoulder crashing into the stone, your eyes squeeze tight and hot tears pour down your face as you clench your teeth, trying to chain back the sob that’s working through your body. Head hanging, your mouth pries open as an ugly moan comes out of you, so deep inside you that you want to crumble.

Days seem to pile onto your shoulders until you think your bones will break and your fingers curl into tight fists as you try to stop the tears from falling, but they keep coming, tracing your nose, pushing everywhere and everything is so hot. Shit, you can’t even breathe—

Hands take your shoulders and you let out a ferocious scream, thrashing yourself out of your grip but fingers only slide to your biceps, pulling you away from the wall as your boots slip against the cobblestone and then hands are on your wrists, pushing away your blind fists.

“Let me go! He’s dead, isn’t he?” you scream as he lets go of you for just a second to wrap his arms around you and you let out a shuddering breath as he crushes you in his embrace. “Reiner! Tell me! Marco’s dead!”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

His words spear through your skull, sending electricity down your spine and your entire body goes limp as he collapses to his knees, you with him. Your arms at your side, your eyes blink open and you feel fresh tears fall down your face as he cups the back of your head, holding you to him and as something wet seeps into your shoulder, it’s as if you are set on fire.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

 On their own accord, your arms come up under his and fingers hook onto his shoulders. Chest to chest, you swear your heart beats in a mournful beat with his, and his entire body collapses against yours. Eyes closing, you press yourself closer, hoping that the heat of his body will chase away the cold that’s rapidly spreading through your body.

Reiner’s arm around your waist tightens. You swallow hard against his shoulder.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers against your neck, wet cheek pressing against your jaw, and your chest stutters as you try to remember how to breathe.

“Reiner…”

You barely breathe his name. It only makes him curl tighter against you.

.

Liberio is colder at night than he remembers. He has to pull the blankets up to his chin, and still, he shivers.

Rolling onto his side, he can nearly imagine you staring back beside him, smiling, hand reaching to touch his face, and his eyes flutter shut when your fingers seem to pass through his cheek.

In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. 

By then, he had known there weren’t any devils on Paradis, but he’d never seen an angel until he saw you cast in gold.

#fic: homebound #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun fic #reiner x reader #reiner x you #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk x reader #snk x you #shingeki no kyojin #my writing

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!” jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #David Rossi #Penelope garcia #the bau #angst #hurt and comfort #spencer reid imagine hurt

[yikesharringrove]

Sweet Little Mango

Rewrite

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3

-

Billy groaned as he folded himself into the Camaro.

Steve hadn’t been at school that day.

Billy wasn’t totally worried, it was around time for his heat, anyway, but Steve had been feeling bad the past few days, throwing up nearly every morning this week before making his way to school, looking pale and clammy, and sleeping through nearly every class.

Billy smoked lazily out the window. The October chill was beginning to set in, and he was fucking dreading the cold weather. He was a California, golden sunshine, warm weather baby through and through, and if it fucking snows, well. Basically, he doesn’t have a coat and he’s pretty much fucked.

He pulled into the driveway in front of Steve’s house, letting himself in the front door with the key Steve had given him at the end of summer.

The house didn’t smell like it did when Steve was in heat, full of the honey lavender scent of his hormones, his slick.

The house was as cold as still as it usually was when Mr. and Mrs. Harrington couldn’t be assed to spend time with their only kid.

Something uneasy climbed down Billy’s spine.

“Stevie?” He yelled up the stairs. There was no answer. Billy didn’t even bother taking off his shoes before he bounded upstairs. “Stever!”

He found Steve in his bedroom, all snuggly and wrapped up in bed, nestled under a pile of blankets. Again, not really unusual behavior for Steve, especially if he was in one of his moods, but the entire situation just didn’t sit right with Billy.

Call it alpha intuition.

Billy sat on the other side of the bed, laying over Steve, melting his body weight onto him.

Steve didn’t react to him.

Something’s up.

“Baby, what’s up?” Steve just made a high sound in his throat in reply.

So, there’s a big something up.

Billy started shifting blankets, finding Steve’s face. “Talk to me.” One of Steve’s eyes opened, big and round and full of something Billy couldn’t place. “You okay?”

“I went to the doctor today. I was awake all night throwing up.”

Billy kissed his forehead. He was covered in cold sweat.

“What’s the verdict? You alright?” Steve shifted, sitting up, holding a pillow to his chest. “Flu? Strep? Hand-foot-and-mouth disease?” Steve didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile.

Billy was fucking worried.

“I, um, I’m, I’m pregnant.”

Billy’s heart fucking stopped.

“She said I was probably eight weeks along.” Steve was nervously picking at something on the bedspread, beginning to ramble. “So I guess it was during one of my heats, that sometimes, sometimes omegas still have heats during the early pregnancy, which is why, why I still had the last one but didn’t have this one, and apparently it’s the size of a raspberry, a tiny little raspberry, Bill. And I, I know we’re so young, but I don’t, I don’t think I can bring myself to get rid of it, and this, I mean, it’s a fucking miracle I even got pregnant in the first place, and this could be my chance to have a pup of my own, and, god, it’s all just so fucking much, and I’m not, you don’t, I‘m not expecting anything from you but-” Billy pulled Steve into his chest, petting his hair, shushing him softly.

“It’s okay, Sweet Thing.” He kissed Steve’s head. “Whatever you wanna do. I’m gonna be right here for you.” Steve melted into him.

“Bill, I, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can, if we can actually, actually be fucking parents, but I, Billy I can not just, just-I already love them so fucking much. ”

“You don’t have to, Honey. You can decide. We’ll make this work, how ever we have to.” He hefted Steve further into his lap. “I’m gonna be here for you, for our pup. And we got, like, family that’ll help us.”

“Bill, I don’t think our parents are gonna-”

Billy was quick to cut him off.

“Are you gonna tell Joyce she can’t babysit, or should I get murdered for it?”

Steve laughed, an unexpected little thing.

“So you’re- you’re okay?”

“I mean, nothing’s really sunk in, and I’ve got a huge fucking breakdown on the horizon once I realize what all this actually means. But, you know. I’m fine.”

-

Billy’s breakdown came when he went home the next morning.

When his dad backhanded him across the face for staying out all night.

He was standing in his room, staring wide-eyed at the window.

How could he be so fucking stupid? Steve wasn’t on birth control. Billy fucking knew that , and still pumped him full of cum every fucking heat.

Steve had told him that it was near impossible for male omegas to get pregnant. It had to be a perfect storm of proper anatomy and a strong heat that allowed for their bodies to actually implant and grow a tiny clump of cells into a whole human person.

Steve had been working with the idea that he pretty much couldn’t get pregnant since he was a kid. And Billy had totally run with that.

And now Steve’s got a little tiny almost person inside of him.

He’s fucking stupid. He’s stupid, and dumb, and he’s a fucking teenager with a pup on the way.

The tears stung his eyes.

He sank to his knees, one hand fisted in his own hair.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s not gonna tell Steve what to do with his own body. If he wants to have the pup, then Billy’s gonna fucking support him.

Because he’s not a shitty deadbeat.

And he loves Steve. He really does.

But he doesn’t believe in himself, though. There’s no fucking way they make this work.

There’s no fucking way they raise this pup, and stay together, and not traumatize the little thing.

There’s not a way in this fucking world.

-

“Alright, Steven.”

Steve was perched nervously on the exam table, his fingers in knots in his lap.

Billy was sitting against the wall, bouncing his leg and itching for a cigarette.

He hadn’t had one since Steve told him about the pup.

Two weeks ago.

He quit when Steve did. Not that Steve kept up the same level as Billy. There was a big difference between one or two cigarettes at a party, and nearly two packs a day.

But it wasn’t good for Steve, or the pup, so Billy took the most stressful time in his whole life so far, to quit smoking.

They were at Steve’s ten-week appointment. At the clinic in Indianapolis. The one where the front desk staff only raised an eyebrow at the boys’ fake I.D.s and didn’t ask for their parents’ contact information.

The doctor ushered Steve to lay back, pulling up his t-shirt to spread the clear jelly on his stomach, turning on the machine.

She located the fetus easily.

“Well, it looks like you’re coming along nicely. You’re at the proper growth for this stage, and the heartbeat’s nice and strong.”

Billy was staring at the monitor.

He couldn’t really make anything out. The machine was making this wooshing sound, like it was a scope underwater, and not a digital look into Steve.

But there was a little tiny blob in there. Something that looked like a little white bean nestled in Steve’s abdomen.

Their pup.

The doctor highlighted the little bean, zooming in and taking a capture of the image.

“Little pup's first picture.”

Steve’s scent went absolutely sweet, filling the room with sugar. Billy just reached out, taking his hand.

-

At the beginning of his pregnancy, Steve had terrible insomnia.

Billy would sneak out of his house to come over most nights, curling up behind Steve with one hand splayed wide on his slightly chubby tummy. He was always solid behind Steve. Warm and soft, a constant comfort to remind Steve that he wasn’t alone with the pup. That he had Billy to love them. To protect them and take care of them.

And sometimes, his warmth and steady breathing would be enough to lull Steve into a nice doze, or even to coax him into sleep.

But most nights, he was wide awake.

Steve didn’t want to keep Billy awake on those long nights, so he would sneak out of Billy’s gentle embrace, and sit on the couch downstairs in the sitting room. He would usually hang out in the quiet, just him and the little pup growing inside of him.

But then Billy would wake up, cold and alone, and would trudge downstairs to find Steve, and manhandle Steve until he was laying on top of Billy on the couch.

That’s where they were when Billy first spotted the grand piano in the corner of the room. Never noticed where it stood, collecting dust. Partially hidden by a large potted fern. He slid out from under Steve and took a seat at the leather padded seat, brushing his fingers over the glossy blackness of the beautiful piano.

Many of the keys were out of tune, as the thing hadn’t been played in years, but he plonked out a few easy scales.

Billy’s mom used to play. He had vivid memories of sitting on her lap, his hands on hers as she played beautiful songs. She taught him a few, once upon a time.

He struggled through one of the songs he could kind of remember, occasionally hitting the wrong key before correcting himself and continuing with the melody. He stumbled through what he could of Hey Jude before turning back to Steve, expecting to see a soft smile, big tired eyes blinking slowly back at him.

But Steve was dead asleep on the couch, both hands resting over his tummy.

Billy carried him up to bed.

That became their ritual on nights Steve couldn’t sleep.

Steve even decided to scour the poorly stocked music store and bought Billy lots of sheet music. He had just grabbed random stuff, and ended up with the weirdest assortment of things. Rock ballads and classical pieces. Swing jazz and a few beginner piano books.

Billy sifted through to find the easier stuff. He could still read sheet music well enough to slowly decipher the notes, but had to remind himself which keys corresponded to which note.

The piano was still out of tune and sometimes made the songs sound dreadfully wrong and quite nearly frightening, but it was peaceful. Quiet except for the sounds of the piano.

Steve was just content to sit next to him as he did it, holding onto his stomach, his head leaned gently against Billy’s shoulder.

-

They didn’t really tell Joyce.

Not exactly, anyway.

Steve and Billy were at Melvald’s, looking through the health section, throwing vitamins Steve’s OBGYN had recommended into the basket.

The basket was heavy, the metal handles digging into the meat of Billy’s palm. Nearly overflowing with expensive supplements that were meant to help their little pup grow into something fully formed and functioning.

Steve was being picky about the supplements. Taking the specific brands the doctor had recommended, reading the labels diligently to see if they said anything along the lines of Warning: Do not take while pregnant. Will give your pup an extra head.

Joyce was the only person at the check-out stand, and she made small talk while she scanned vitamins, shea butter, and produce, not even looking at the rattling plastic bottles.

Until one container wouldn’t scan. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands.

She faltered, and it was like the world came to a halt.

Prenatal Vitamins, omega specialized formula

She stared at it. Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

But she moved in a flash, shifting around the counter, and pulling Steve into a tight hug.

It took him a second to return the hug, wrapping his arms around her.

“If you boys need anything, and I mean anything at all, you come get me.” Steve scrunched his eyes up, trying not to sob into her shoulder.

She pulled away, giving Billy a hug of his own.

He hooked his chin on her shoulder, and he kinda felt like he could cry too. She gave him a bone-crushing hug for someone so small.

She took Steve’s hand when she finally relinquished Billy.

“How far along are you?”

“Just about ten weeks.” She cooed, handing them their bags as Billy counted out bills.

“And you’re not even showing. With Jon, I must’ve put on thirty pounds.” Steve looked around.

He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, mostly wearing too-big clothes of Billy’s these days, trying to hide what he could for as long as possible. He was beginning to get insecure about the weight he was gaining, even though it showed off the growth of their pup.

But he’s vain. And Steve’s the first to admit that.

He lifted his sweatshirt to show the shirt underneath, the tighter fabric showing off his little bump. Joyce smiled at them, and it made Steve feel so warm.

“I want copies of the very first sonogram.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #sweet little mango #mango #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #mpreg #harringrove #harringrove abo

[lilyblyss]

No One But Me

This is my first time writing a slimy character so pls be gentle lol. This is a kinda slimy Nanami sugar daddy fic ft. Geto

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Mentions of infidelity, slimy Nanami Kento, Unhealthy relationship, rough sex (tho not too descriptive), slight manipulation, voyeurism, punishment (?? Kento's on bs tbh)

Tag: @kryloxen

Nanami Kento was an upright, confusing man. He was all business and almost no play to most of the world, even his wife, but with you, sometimes he would crack an easy smile before degrading you to high hell, looking surprisingly pleased if you started to cry. He would make you tell him you loved him, edging you for hours until it was all you knew how to say, yet wouldn’t even look your way if you passed him in the grocery store. Said you were nothing more than a quick fuck for him and yet he still loved you. Told you that you were just a sugar baby, a glorified whore that leeches off his money, then turn around and tell you he’d destroy the world if it meant your happiness.

He was so contradicting and you loved him all the same.

You knew he only ever had the best intentions for you, and he’s always proven he had your best interest at heart. So, even though he was still married after six years with two kids, because he insisted he would leave his wife for you, you believed him. When your parents had randomly abandoned you, not answering your calls and refusing to see you when you visited, he was there to comfort you, even giving you a place to stay when your landlord decided to wrongfully evict you after your parents cut you off. Could he have hired a good enough lawyer to represent you in court? Yes, but he insisted that staying with him in the vacation home he escaped to when his family was too much was far easier and less stressful, so you trusted him. He’s given you no reason not to. He loved you too much to deceive you, he told you himself. And above all else, you trusted him with your life.

So when he called you after ghosting you for a week, you happily answered, not even questioning why he’d dropped you. When all he said was to get ready, crudely hanging up before you could even get a word out, you did. You made sure to wear the black dress he loved that had your whole back out, flowy enough at the bottom that he could sneak his hand up the back without disturbing the front too much.

He hadn’t said anything when you got into the car, and you knew better than to kiss him, even though it's practically become routine with him. Instead, you sat with your hands in your lap, looking down like a kicked puppy. The car was silent, saved for the classical music playing lightly from the radio as he turned into unmarked streets, passing unknown buildings.

He finally stopped in front of some apartment complex, some of the windows we boarded, it had the same vibe as an abandoned home, and you felt over-dressed, but he finally looked at you, softly cupping your cheeks in his hands and planting a deep kiss on your lips. He pulls back only when you’re out of breath.

“You know I would only do what’s best for you, right?” You wordlessly nodded your head, watching him exit the car, waiting for him to open your door, leading you into the house with your hand in his.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t trust him so well, but you did.

You tried to keep still, bringing your hands under your knees to keep them up less you get hit again. You can feel your eyes begin to water as they ache, having to hold the position for far too long, being treated roughly by some stranger for what feels like hours. You turned your head as inky black hair spills forward into your face, eyes shut tightly when he chuckles in your ear.

“Look at him, Y/N.”

You heard Nanami command from somewhere in the room. You tried your best to look for a trace of blond, hoping the tortured look in your face would make him step in and save you like he always does. However, before your eyes could even focus on him, a strong hand roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the cruel smirk and devious eyes.

“You hear him, Y/N.” You didn’t like the way he said your name. “Look at me.”

The man above you—Geto, you try to remind yourself before the name is fucked out of you yet again—moved his hand around your neck, gripping tighter than Nanami ever would, delighting in the way your moan is broken with a sharp breath. The man was brutal, having you on your knees for the better half of an hour, fucking your face and making you choke when you complained about the ache, roughly fingering you through an orgasm until he was ready to take you, placing you on the cold floor because "whores don't deserve the luxury of a bed". His mouth attached itself wherever it could, quick to leave bruises and bite marks in its wake. You tried hard not to cry, and he seemed almost disappointed by the fact.

The slap of his hips against your ass was almost bruising, but you know better than to ask him to stop, the mark of his hand on your thigh is evident of that. His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough that you actually cry out because of it, pulling you into each of his thrusts so roughly it feels like he might break you. Everything this man did to you ached, even his lips against the skins of your breast felt a touch too rough, and you were just expected to take it.

You couldn’t help but call out to Nanami. He was so much nicer with you, so kind with his touches, working you through orgasm after orgasm as gentle as a dove, even on his worst days. The overstimulation he caused with his tongue was worlds above the handful roughly torn from you because of Geto.

“See how mean Geto can be?”

Your teary eyes widened, not realizing Nanami had kneeled next to your head, hand gently against your head as his voice flowed so sugary sweet that it could make you sick.

Geto, in turn, let out another laugh, “Oh, come now, I’m not that mean.” He says this, yet seconds after he sank his teeth into the skins of your breast hard enough to draw blood. You whimper out to Nanami, and all he does is stares softly at you. “You’re just too soft, Nanami.”

Nanami ignored him, the light caresses against your face and hair in complete contrast with the way Geto did anything. “I’m so much nicer to you, aren’t I? How could you want anyone other than me, right?”

“Y-yes sir," you sobbed out. You reached a shaky hand out to him, whimper when he slaps it away with his free hand. "Please, Nanami."

"No one other than me, right?"

You bit your lips as Geto fucked you through another orgasm, tears spilling down your face as you weakly grab Nanami's pants leg, the other hand moving up to messily wipe your tears away. There was no working you through your orgasm with Geto, he kept the same rowdy pace throughout, giving you no time to recover. Nanami doesn't tell him to stop, though, just looks at you expectedly. So you do as he wants, like always, whimpering out the affirmation he needs as you try your best to stay conscious. "Yes sir!"

"So, you say," he mumbled before his hand in your hair tightened, "and yet you seem to flirt with every man at the office like some slut. You were trying to make me upset, right?"

"B-but I wasn't—"

"Good girls don't lie, Y/N." Geto hummed, pushing against your legs until they pressed against your chest, the force of his thrust causing you to curse. He let out a whistle, "Good girls don't curse either. You might as well leave her here with me, Nanami. I'll train her nice and good for you."

The only response he got was a glare from Nanami before he turned his attention back to you, fake pity pulling his lips into a frown. "You know I hate having to punish you. Wouldn't you rather we go home and ride me until I feel better?"

You wordlessly babble before nodding.

"Then apologize for being a whore."

You wanted to argue, to plead your case, but you could hardly form a sentence, much less an argument, and a simple "I wasn't" wasn't going to fly with Nanami. Besides, you know better than to argue with Nanami. Once he's sure of something, no one can convince him otherwise.

"'M sorry." You slurred.

His hand tightened, "Sorry for what, be specific."

"For bein' a whore."

His grip finally loosened, and he caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away your tears as his usual silent apology. "There's my good girl." He looked up at Geto, face hardened. "Enough."

Geto smirked, "What, I don't get to finish?" He complained, still he pulled out, sitting on the edge of the bed just centimeters away. He watched closely as you withered, body confused as the almost nonstop pleasure abruptly ended, wondering how you would sound if you begged him for more.

You let out a sigh of relief before hissing at the pins and needle feeling in your legs. You relaxed as Nanami cradled you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and you shivered at the feel of his bulge press against your oversensitive thighs. You know he'll give you a chance to recover in the car ride home, though, he's just nice like that.

You're barely conscious when he throws his coat over you, heading out the door. You think you hear him say something to Geto, but nothing else matters when he presses his lips against the crown of your head as you drift off, telling you what a good girl you are and how much he loves you.

And because he gives you no reason to doubt him, you believe him.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru smut

[inkedtae]

quiet rides ⇾ jjk. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ boyfriend!jungkook x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ established relationship, smut, fluff

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ bored out of their minds on a seven hour road trip with their friends, Jungkook and his girlfriend decided to go on a ride themselves.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 3.3k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ trying to stay quiet sex, car sex, dom!jungkook, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation kink, slight fingering, choking, hair pulling, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap them up folks), cockwarming, edging, cum eating, creampie, slight overstimulation, exhibition kink, lowkey filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ gotta love some daddy!boyfriend jungkook. extremely unedited. if you have any requests, please send them my way. enjoy!

The humming engine and ripples of the wind faintly filled the silence within the SUV. You were bored out of your mind, looking between all your friends and wondering how the hell they were doing just fine for the past four hours. Namjoon was sitting just behind the driver’s seat where Jin was, enthralled with his writing as he scowled at his notebook and shifted in his seat way too much for your liking. Yoongi sat beside him with his earbuds in and music blasting so loud, you could hear it all the way in the back from your seat. Taehyung sat between them, editing photos on his phone while he too bopped his head along to the music in his earbuds. Jimin took the second row all to himself. He was previously sitting beside Taehyung, but had convinced him during your last reset spot to sit by Namjoon and Yoongi so that he could lay down. He always got a back case of car sickness on long trips like these. And Hoseok sat in the passenger’s seat, muttering directions to Jin and occasionally making cute sound effects. 

Everyone managed to keep themselves busy but you. Even your boyfriend of one year, who sat beside you in the last row of seats, was playing some stupid game on his phone, muttering curses under his breath every so often. You had tried to entertain yourself, gazing out the window to daydream, listening to some music, reading a book, but everything just seemed to lose it’s appeal all too quickly.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the car seat with a pout. Jungkook pretended he didn’t notice just to get under your skin.  He knew you adored his attention and would sometimes purposely deny you it just because he simply could. You huffed again, louder this time, and tried to catch his gaze in the corner of your eye. 

Jungkook exited his game and locked his phone before looking at you. He mimicked your pout and annoyed eyes, silently giggling to himself. You bit your lip to keep from laughing, wanting him to know you were seriously bored and done with the stupid car ride. 

“Just three more hours,” he reassured. He knew you were getting restless, wanting to just be there already and lounging on the beach with him by your side. “Try to relax, hun,” he offered a gentle smile, curling a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You exhaled deeply and nodded. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to relax with the awkward blend of Taehyung and Yoongi’s faint music, Namjoon’s constant shifts and Hoseok’s sound effects. You were going to ask him what he would suggest you do, however you somehow got lost in his soft gaze. It wasn’t the first time this happened, but you still weren’t used to the feeling. An idea trickling into your mind, making you blush under his gaze. 

He furrowed his brows at you, wondering why you were going red all of a sudden. Before he could ask, you relocated your hand from your lap to his crotch, cupping his soft cock as it began to get hard under your touch.

A gasp got caught in his throat from the sudden action. He looked down at it confused, but didn’t make an effort to remove your hand or tell you to stop. “Was this morning not enough?” He whispered, looking back up at you. 

You smiled sweetly, then licked your lips before replying, “Kookie, don’t you know by now?  I can never get enough of you.” Your voice was dripping with sugar. The sweet innocence you radiated made him bite his lip as he swallowed hard, bobbing his adam’s apple. You began to palm him through his jeans, only just making him shiver against your touch.

“Think you’re being cute?” 

“I know I am.”

Wrong answer. His hand shot up to wrap tightly around your throat. Your eyes widened, darting around the car to see if anyone had noticed. They were too consumed with whatever the hell they were doing to care about you two back there. 

“Wanna try that again, babe,” he hissed, somehow still sounding kind through his rough tone. 

You remained silent, knowing better than to talk back to him right now. Your hand on his crotch ceased all movements, simply resting there and feeling him grow harder in your palm. He seemed satisfied with your silence, loosening his grip on your throat and pulling you in for a gentle peck upon your lips. 

He completely let go of your throat as he sat back in his seat. “Good girl,” he hummed. His hands then moved to unbuckle his belt. “If you’re so desperate for something to do,” he started, shifting his pants low enough to pull out his cock. “I can always provide you with suggestions.”

Your mouth watered at the sight of his big cock. Hard and slightly curved, it stood tall. You glanced around again, making sure no one caught you leaning down to take that cock deep in your mouth. Usually, you wouldn’t be so bold. You lick up and down his girthy shaft first, swirl your tongue around his tip, suck up all the precum he would provide, then begin to take him inch by throbbing inch. But, with how you pissed him off earlier, you wanted to show him how much you regret your actions. 

You coated half his cock instantly with your saliva. He inhaled sharply, enjoying the quiet, wet noises of your slobbers and slurps. His hands pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail and he used that grip to guide your head up and down his cock. He smirked at the sight of you so willingly going down on him while all his friends were around. He admired your efforts, gazing at your eager eyes as you enjoyed yourself. 

You pulled up suddenly, confusing him. You didn’t really register that he was about to tell you off for it, eyes trained on that wet cock as you repositioned yourself to be sitting on your knees atop the cushioned seats of the car. Once you were comfortable, you returned your mouth around his cock, moaning at the salty taste of his precum. 

Jungkook rested his head back against the headrest at the returned contact, eyes fluttering closed in a state of pleasure. Though he was loving the feeling of your mouth and wanted desperately to get lost in it, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes for too long. He looked back down at you a second later, knowing it would’ve been a shame to miss seeing his babygirl at work. 

You pulled back from your head bobs until your lips were pressed against his tip. You continued to pump his cock with both your small hands. His cock still hadn’t been fully taken inside your mouth yet. You were working your way to it. For now, however, you felt like he needed to be a bit wetter. You collected the precum you had in your mouth with some saliva and spat it over his cock. 

He let out a shaky sigh at the sight. One of his hands remained on your head, holding your hair while you went back to your previous rhythm of sucks and swirls of your tongue, while his other hand slid down your back and to your ass, rubbing your just barely covered asscheeks. Since being in your new position, you flowy skirt had crept up to your hips, revealing a bit of your bare ass. You had been wearing panties this morning, but Jungkook took them after fucking you against his luggage for talking back. They now sat in one of his pockets, staining his jeans with the scent of you.

You felt yourself getting wet at the memory, pressing your thighs together as you took him a bit deeper. You were about to moan when Jungkook suddenly pushed your head all the way down his cock, bottoming out in your throat and making you gagging uncontrollably. His hand fixed your skirt, covering your ass once more and he coughed to cover up your lewd sounds. 

“You okay?” Jin asked, glancing at Jungkook from the rearview mirror.  

Your eyes watered as you held your breath to subside all your gags. Jungkook ceased his fake coughs and nodded, “just fine. 

Hoseok turned back to check on him, causing Taehyung to do the same. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Sleeping,” Jungkook immediately answered. His hips involuntarily buckled into your mouth and you gripped onto the hem of his shirt to remain steady and still. 

Hoseok nodded and turned around. Taehyung glanced at Jimin’s sleeping figure, making sure he was okay too before turning back around as well. 

Jungkook released his grip on you, and you rose up enough to look up at him but not enough for them to see you in the mirror should they glance back. Tears were streaming down your face and your mouth was glistening with your saliva and remnants of his precum. 

He offered you a sheepish smile, soothing your ruined hair down. “I’m sorry, babygirl,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize he was staring at me until I glanced at the mirror.”

You licked your lips, in an attempt to clean the mess around them, and nodded. You couldn’t really blame him. Besides, you were panting all too much to reply to him anyways. He nudged on your shoulder to signal you to sit up and wiped whatever drool was left on your face with the back of his hand. “Come sit on daddy’s cock, princess,” he cooed. 

You nervously looked back to the front of the car. “I thought you told them I was sleeping,” you replied. It’s not that you didn’t want to sit on his cock; that was all you wanted. But the last thing you needed was any of the guys getting a good view of your fucked out face and features. That right was only reserved for Jungkook as his beautiful sex faces belong to you as well. 

Jungkook was already helping you climb over his lap as he reassured, “just lean back and shut your eyes, baby. They won’t know the difference.”

He lifted your skirt enough for you to spread your legs a bit and sink down on his cock. You hurried the action, biting down on your lip to keep from screaming at the amazing burn of the stretch. Your ass finally met his hips and you did as he told you, leaning your back against him and fluttering your eyes closed. 

“Try not to look like you have a cock in you, babygirl,” he chuckled against your jawline, admiring your parted lips and knitted brows. 

You wanted to follow orders but his cock just felt so fucking good, throbbing against your cunt walls. You rolled your hips a bit, gasping at the subtle friction, but Jungkook was quick to end it all, holding your hips still with an unforgiving grip. You were sure you’d see bruises surface in their wake later. 

Jungkook tsked against your skin, “what did we say about behaving, hunny?” 

You shuddered against him. Your eyes slowly opened and you turned to look down at him with a pouty. “Sorry,” you whispered. 

He breathed a chuckle, waving your misbehaviour away just from the mere sight of you looking so helplessly cute. “Just stay still.”

“We’ll be there in about an hour,” Hoseok announced in reply to Jimin’s question. 

All the guys were engaging in lively conversations, abandoning their previous tasks and singing along to their upbeat playlist. Only you and Jungkook remained silent, his arms wrapped around your waist. He was forced to do this as you kept shifting about. With his strong hands holding you down, it was impossible for you to move. His occasionally twitching cock was the only friction you were allotted.

You rested your head against the headrest in front of you and cried desperate tears of frustration. You were ready to scream “fuck it,” and start bouncing on his cock, simply wanting to feel something. Jungkook kissed your back, muttering words of encouragement in hopes to calm you down. You knew he was ready to throw all caution out the car window too and ram his hips up into you, that this edging wasn’t one sided. But, you still couldn’t stop your silent tears.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl.” Jungkook whispered, leaning over you to have his lips meet your ear. His cock reached deep inside you, forcing a sob out as they guys belted the chorus of the song. Their voices masked your slip up.  

He kissed your cheek, tasting your tears no doubt. “Look, at you taking daddy’s cock like the good girl you are, huh? You’ve been behaving so well. Such a good little girl. I’m going to reward you later for that baby.”

You raveled in his praises, whimpering meekly as you tried to calm yourself down. You knew it was a useless task, his cock always and forever being your weakness, but if you didn’t at least try you were going to scream. 

“Can you take the next exit?” Yoongi asked, as the song ended. 

Jin sighed, quirking his head to the left a bit. “Can’t you hold it? We’re almost there,” he replied, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“I can’t and won’t,” he stubbornly answered over the next tune that played. 

Jin compiled without another word, signalling to move into the next lane towards the exit. He must’ve known he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t. 

You couldn’t believe it. This stop was going to tack on an extra twenty minutes to the trip. That was twenty more minutes you'll remain on his cock, twenty more mintues of blissful torture. A loud whine you couldn’t at all help escaped you. 

The guys turned to look back at you with concern washing over them. Hoseok turned down the volume as they all asked a series of “you alright?”

You nodded, unable to answer conhertantly. Namjoon was the first of them to notice your tears. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking between you and Jungkook.

Jimin, being the closest to you, began to rub your head out of concern. Jungkook huffed a quiet growl in your ear, causing shivers to run up and down your spine, and caught Jimin’s wrist. The harsh action shocked everyone in the car into confused silence. Jimin stared at Jungkook, expectedly waiting for an explanation. 

“She has a headache,” he muttered. “It’s best not to touch there. It’ll only make it worse.” His voice sounded surprisingly steady and believable. He then released Jimin’s hand and returned his arm back to his hold around your waist.

They all nodded, and promised to keep it down. You stayed settled on Jungkook’s cock, quietly whining and crying into the headrest in front of you. 

The car pulled into the parking lot. Jin and Hoseok jumped out to get some food, while Yoongi and Jimin left to use the washroom. Namjoon stayed behind with Taehyung, discussing the things they wanted to do once they got there. 

“Hyung, do you mind going to grab us some water?” Jungkook asked. 

Namjoon and Taehyung looked at each other, trying to figure out which one of them Jungkook was referring to. Namjoon was the closest to the door so he nodded and said he’d be right back. After a minute or two, Jungkook conveniently sighed out in feigned annoyance. 

Taehyung turned back, raising a brow as a means of asking what was wrong.

“I forgot to tell him to grab (Y/N) some aspirin for her headache,” he smoothly lied, breath suddenly catching in his throat. He cleared it and asked, “do you mind going to get it?”

Taehyung spared you one last pitiful glance and nodded. “Do you guys want anything to eat too?” 

You shook your head quickly, finally catching onto Jungkook’s drift and just wanting Taehyung to leave already. 

“Just grab us whatever Jin gets for himself,” he replied. 

Taehyung nodded and jumped out of the car. Jungkook waited for him to be far enough before removing his arm from your waist and replacing them with his rough fingers. “Jump,” he growled. 

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately bouncing up and down rapidly on his cock. You were thankful you had his hands guiding you up and down his shaft because you were growing weaker with every thrust. Tears continued to fall freely down your face at finally being able to ravel at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your tight walls and slamming against the one right spot. Your orgasm was already on the edge those last few thrusts triggering it in full effect.

“D-daddy, I’m gon-” you started screaming your warning but he cut you off. 

“Just fucking do it!” he groaned, clenching his jaw. 

You came all over him, quivering, crying, screaming his name as the car shook from your desperate movements to ride out your high. Jungkook’s orgasm was right behind yours, strong body stiffening while unleashing his full load deep in you as you continued to bounce on him. 

When you couldn’t take anymore, you fell back limp on his chest. He jerked his hips up into you a couple of more times, swirling his cum with yours before resting back too. His lips showered your neck with kisses. “I’m so proud of you, babygirl,” he chuckled. “You really took daddy’s cock for a ride.”

You blushed, breathy giggles escaping you as you tried to catch your breath. “I can’t help it,” you replied in a whine. 

He laughed and kissed your cheek. As he wiped your tears away, his cock began to soften inside you. You shifted uncomfortable, suddenly starting to feel overstimulated. Jungkook couldn’t put you through anymore teasing after that two hour long edge you were both battling against. He helped you up and off his cock, cupping your pussy from leaking all over the rental. 

“Shit, we didn’t think this through,” Jungkook chuckled, catching gallops of your mixed cum in his hand. 

You sighed, wondering what the fuck to do now. It was only a matter of time before they returned. You did the only thing you could think of, hovering your hand under his. “Eat up, daddy,” you blushed. 

His cheeks tinted a light pink too. He brought his cum coated fingers to his mouth, groaning. You caught some cum as well, mimicking his actions. You held his gaze all throughout your filthy meal together. Jungkook pushed his fingers in you, collecting more cum to eat. You hissed at the contact, not yet recovered from his last encounter down there. He ate what was left of your cum off his hands as you fixed your skirt. 

“The moment we get to the beach, I’m gonna clean you up properly,” he promised, sucking his fingers clean. 

You nodded and with a little shrug replied, “I think I’ll be ready for another ride by then.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. 

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Baking with Tsukishima

Words: 878

Warnings: Fluff, one use of the word Fuck

Style: Headcanons 

Characters: Tsukishima 

Cute as fuck: yes 

A/n : it’s December first which pretty much means that it’s the holidays and that means that I get to write cute shit like this and I have to say that I make cookies all month and I absolutely love it! 

“Tsuki can we bake cookies together”

“No”

“Pleaseeee it’ll be just like in the movies”

“No.”

“Come on Tsukishima how do you love sweets but don’t want to bake”

“No, I bake, just not with you”

“WHATTT HOW DO YOU SAY THAT??”

He smirks and then just lets you yell at him because quite frankly he isn’t listening to you at all

Unfortunately for you this conversation is super common and he has baked for you too and he is damn good at it but he won’t do it with you for god knows why

But now that it’s approaching the holiday season he’s been acting a little weird and asked if you wanted to have a date at his house, well of course you do but why

You get to his house and not only does he have candles lit for you both but he also has a full vase of flowers on the table with a whole layout of flour, sugar, eggs, milk, chocolate chips of all kinds, marshmallows, literally everything you could think of

“Tsuki!!! What’s this?!?!” You squeal at him as he blushes and rubs the back of his head

“I thought you wanted to bake with me loser” he snaps turning away from you and getting out a cookie sheet

“Did you do this for me?” You started tearing up, and quite literally made this face 🥺 at him because you were so happy and excited and emotional about this

“No, my brother didn’t want to make the Christmas cookies this year and I knew you would be desperate enough to help”

Your face dropped but by his smirk you could tell he meant none of it

“Get the mixing bowl out, if you can reach it” he sasses but pulls you in and kisses the top of your head before grabbing out some of his moms old recipe books

You two start working on a chocolate chip recipe and as he measures his help but look up and smile at him every couple of minutes because he was so cute

“Can you focus on the recipe for five minutes or are you just that obsessed with me?”

You turn bright pink and go back to looking at the recipe unable to keep yourself from sneaking another peak at his little frown as you pretend to sniff and be upset over his comment

You let a fake tear or two fall before he spins you around and notices immediately that you are faking him out and he turns from worried to smirking in a split second

“Cut it out or I’ll give you something to cry about” he smirks at you as he grabs your hips and squeezes them tight before squeezing past you to grab and crack an egg with one hand as he focused his attention back to the recipe

By the time the first batch of cookies were out of the oven there was a whole other batch ready to go

The cookies sat on the cooling rack for just a second before Tsukishima was splitting one of the cookies and holding one up to your face watching you closely

You took a little bite and kept your face stern as you kept the eye contact with him, “they’re burnt”

“No the fuck they aren’t you’re trying to get to me” he retorts without missing a beat and goes back to the table and begins scooping batter onto the still warm trays

“Are you going to stand there and be useless or are you actually going to help me out?”

“What?? Do you need my help doing everything? Gosh you’re practically useless” you let out a forced laugh as you make your way over to him and try to push him to the side, which he doesn’t let you do and instead begins tickling your sides and laughing as you hunch over and begin yelling at him again upset because his arms are “too damn long” and you should be able to reach him back but he just pushes you away and goes back to the cookies

After pouting at him for a minute or two you creep your way back over to him and begin silently scooping cookies sneaking glances back at him with a little pout on your face

Little do you know Tsuki is sneaking little glances down at you when you aren’t looking and smiling just a little bit and after the fifth time you looked at him he turned his head and pushed his lips against yours pressing a gentle kiss against your lips and letting his hand rest on your cheek as you shared a passionate moment

After you pulled away Tsuki beamed at you in a rare moment of passion before placing the pans in the oven and going back to make another batch, this time he stood behind you, hands resting idly on your waist as he watched you measure out the sugar for the next batch

You finished three more batches before going to watch movies together on the couch, you got him to watch the muppets Christmas carol with you, after a lot of begging and puppy eyes of course but the night was sweet and romantic and absolutely perfect

#haikyuu!! #haikyu #Haikyuu karasuno #karasuno #Karasuno headcannons #karasuno imagines #karasuno x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #Tsukishima #tsukki #tsuki #Kei Tsukishima #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei headcanon #tsukishima kei imagine #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima kei is a baby #Haikyuu readings #haikyuu imagine

[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 3

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 2

A little while later, I was wearing a magenta dress of some kind of expensive label. Pam had taken one look at me when I returned to the suite in my chosen outfit – a pair of tight-fitting pants and a low-cut top – and thrown the garment in my face, along with a pair of boots that went up over my knees. I’d forgotten how terrible I was at walking in high heels – having always danced barefoot – and nearly twisted my ankle walking back into the living-area from the vampire’s bathroom.

I’d put on the new outfit, trying to ignore the red-stained towels in the hamper. “Just lipstick… just lipstick”, I muttered to myself, as I regained my footing. “It’s blood”, Pam said. “Thanks…”, I sneered.

Eric slammed open the door to his room, and came out wearing a black well-fitting suit, over a tank top – and I was having trouble controlling my heartrate from how good he looked. His facial expression didn’t exactly give off any desire to dance the night away at a party; but then he looked at me, and his eyes diverted for a second towards my chest. He’d heart my heart beat faster, and his lips drew up into a light smile. “I see you’ve been playing dress-up with Pam”, he said. “You seem strangely comfortable in that outfit, actually”. I took a step forwards, and almost stumbled again. “Or not…”, Eric muttered. He held out his arm, for me to hook my own through; and we left the room. “Have him home by 4 am.”, Pam called after us.

When we entered the elevator, a female vampire was snacking on a young man. She looked up at Eric. “Sheriff Northman”, she said. “Sheriff Beauchamp”, Eric replied. The other vampire went back to her meal. My breath hitched, and I parted my lips. Eric gave me a look letting me know to keep my mouth shut.

We got off on the top floor, and entered a large room, that seemed like the purple version of Fangtasia; though at least four times larger. I followed Eric around the room, as he nodded and greeted other vampires; without having a choice, really, as I could hardly stand around alone. This party was more like a buffet of willing humans; offering themselves up to the vampires around. I never saw anything wrong with anyone doing what they want with their bodies, and was perfectly fine with anyone wanting to offer themselves to a vampire – I’d done it myself just days before, though Eric had changed his mind at the last possible moment. My issue was more in the manner of the feeding going on. The humans were moaning almost pornographically, and that was the part that made me uncomfortable.

A few dancers were grinding to the music on top of podiums, and Erics eyes scanned their moves. “Browsing for new employees?”, I asked. Eric seemed to ignore my words. “Do you dance, Liv?”, he asked. I drew in a short breath. “Why do you ask?”, I said. “Well, if you need another job once we get back to Louisiana; maybe I’ll have one for you”, he sniggered.

We went up to the bar, and Eric raised his brows at the tender; who quickly got to mixing up something. “You want me shaking my ass in Fangtasia? In front of everyone and anyone?”, I asked. Eric looked down at me. “I’ll be happy with a private show…”. A shiver ran down my spine. “I’m working, Mr. Northman. I shouldn’t be flirting with my boss”, I said. “You’re not. I’m flirting with you…”, he smiled, and handed me the drink the bartender had set on the counter. I took a large gulp of the delicious drink, not really knowing how to respond. “You should be working too, right?”, I croaked. Erics expression turned serious. “Right now, my job is to mingle and… schmooze”, he said. “Both things I am very good at, and simultaneously hate".

Eric seemed to suddenly realize that he was sharing more of himself than he was comfortable with; and relieved when another vampire came to greet us – well him. I was arm-candy. Literally. The black-haired flamboyant vampire in front of us had his own snack in tow – a young man in a tight t-shirt, with fang-marks on the inside of his elbow. “Eric…”, the vampire said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s been a decade”. “At least”, Eric smiled. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How are things in Area 12, Carl?”. “Boring, as usual”, the other vampire responded. “With my term ending; I’m considering not running for another”. “Going back to Vermont?”, Eric asked. “I like the winters there better”, Carl said.

Carl let his eyes run over my body. “Have we met?”, he asked. Eric gave me a short look, and nodded slightly. You can speak. “I don’t believe so”, I said. “Are you sure? Have you ever been to Area 12?”. Eric smiled nonchalantly. “My human isn’t caught up with the area numbers yet, Carl”, he said. “Area 12 covers Los Angeles and all the way down to the Mexican border”. “My current dwelling is San Diego”, Carl said. “I was actually the host of the sheriffs conference last year”. I forced myself to smile. “Oh…”, I said. “Well then, maybe. I came to Louisiana from San Diego”. Eric tugged at my arm. Enough talk. “Liv is new to the vampire world”, he said. “She won’t have been at the conference”. “How would you know? You weren’t there either…”, Carl retorted. “Godric seemed to miss you”. Eric looked down, and for a second, I thought I saw regret on his face.

Carl looked at the bartender. “Vodka Cranberry for Javier; and another of whatever she’s having for my fellow sheriff’s human”, he said, before turning to Eric again. “Javi’s on a cranberry diet; makes the blood extra tangy. I’ll trade you for a taste…”. His eyes travelled to my neck. “Liv’s had almonds…”, Eric said. “I know how you feel about marzipan”. Carl winced. “Yuck”, he said. “Well, never mind. Maybe New York is up for a trade”.

I took my fresh drink from the bartender, and Eric and Carl nodded at each other, as if getting ready to say goodbye. Carl gave me a final look. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before”, he said. “Wait a second… Sugar and Spice… Barefoot-girl!”. My face dropped. “I knew it! Northman, you have a twister and grinder here! Well, see you later…”. The vampire and his companion walked away. Eric turned his head slightly to look down at me. He raised his brow in amusement. “Sugar and Spice”, he said. “Now this I have to hear…”. “Not now…”, I said. Eric grinned at me. “Miss Sunday…”. “I said not now!”, I hissed.

Within seconds, I found myself pushed against a wall at the far end of the room. Eric had my wrists pinned down on each side, and placed his knee between my legs. His face was twisted in rage. “Don’t speak to me like that!”, he growled. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”, I croaked. Erics eyes flickered, and he let me go; taking a step back. “Disrespecting me in the open will give away the fact that you are not mine”, he whispered. “Every vampire in this room will attack you the second they think you are on your own”.

I scanned the room quickly, and saw that we were being watched by quite a few vampires; and some humans. Eric was right; if I wasn’t under his protection, I was signing my own death sentence. “You have to be more careful…”, Eric began. “Bite me”, I said. His eyes hardened. “I’m trying to keep you alive…”. I looked seriously at him. “Bite me!”. Eric finally understood what I was trying to say, and nodded. I tilted my head, and closed my eyes; and Eric pushed my hair out the way, before baring his fangs. “I’ll be gentle…”, he whispered; and I felt his lips brush against my skin.

“Northman!”, a deep voice called out. “Förbannade rövål!”, Eric hissed under his breath. I didn’t know what he was saying, but I was pretty sure I concurred. “Stan! I thought this was a private party. Who invited you?”, the Viking said, faking another smile. “Fuck you. Dallas is hosting… Hope I didn’t interrupt your feeding”, Stan said. He was once again wearing a hat inside, and had the facial expression Jane Bodehouse usually had, when we decided to cut her off at Merlotte’s.

“I didn’t know vampires could get drunk…”, I whispered. “Look at his human”, Eric responded. The young woman draped on Stans arm looked wasted out of her mind; and probably had taken some kind of drug on top of that. “Oh…”, I said.

Stan deposited his companion on a leather couch, and walked towards us. “Looks like I came just in time for dessert”, he said, and smirked at me. “I’m not trading tonight, Stan”, Eric said. “And it seems your own meal is a little worse for wear… wouldn’t be fair”. Stan looked back at the almost sleeping woman on the couch. “Your loss. Layla is… sweet as peach-pie”. Eric turned back towards me. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my own meal”, he said.

“We never finished our conversation, earlier”, Stan said. Eric looked ready to commit murder. “This isn’t the time”, he said. “Oh, but it is”, Stan said. “It’s easier to have a real conversation, when Godric isn’t there to supervise”. “You know I will never go behind his back”, Eric retorted. “He is not…”, Stan began. “He is your sheriff!”, Eric roared, baring his fangs in a snarl. Stan smirked. “Are you trying to start a fight in my area, Northman?”, he asked.

“This is a party, gentlemen”. Isabel stepped out of the crowd. “Behave”. Stan growled. “This isn’t the time for a power-struggle, Stan. Sheriff Northman has centuries on you, and his maker has millennia”. Stan picked up his human, and threw her over his shoulder. “Godric will step down, and when he does, Area 9 will finally have a real leader”, he said, and walked towards the elevators; the crowds parting for him. “By the way, Eric… Your human really does smell delicious. I will have a taste at some point”. A terrifying sense of inevitability went through my body, and Eric reached behind him; grabbing my hand and squeezing it. He seemed to catch himself in the action, and let go quickly.

“Thank you for not ripping his head off in public”, Isabel said. “But Stan has already caused too much of a scene. We’ll have to glamour every human in the room, to avoid information about unrest in our ranks from spreading to those not present”. “Which areas aren’t here?”, Eric asked, retracting his fangs. “15 through 21… 7… 13”, Isabel said. “Well, no one wants to party with 13 anyway. Rose is a stick in the mud”, Carl said, joining our little group. Javier was behind him, looking pale, but happy. “Someone say something about glamouring?”. “Yes… I trust you can both handle your own humans?”, Isabel said. “Now, Isabel; there’s no reason to break with custom”, Carl said. “I’ll take care of little miss dancer-girl, here”. He gave me a once over, and smiled. Eric gave me a stern look, letting me know it was time for defying gravity, and whipping out my acting skills. “Liv; let sheriff Rockford glamour you”, he said. I nodded, and faced the approaching vampire.

Carl put his hand on my cheek, and looked into my eyes. “Liv… Sweet Liv”, Carl said, his voice soft and soothing. “You didn’t see any fighting here tonight, did you?”. I let my eyes go blank; which was difficult, considering the fast that I had a strange vampire standing only inches from me. Every second, he might pounce on me. “No…”, I said. “Just a second ago, you were just dancing, weren’t you?”, Carl continued. “I was dancing”, I croaked, focusing on keeping my eyes on his, while not letting any life shine through. “In fact, you were just about to take off those boots, and give me one of your special dances”. Carl smiled broadly at me. “Yes”, I whispered.

“That’s enough”, Eric said. He grabbed my shoulder, and turned me to face him. “Liv, it’s time to leave”. “But I was just about to get myself a private dance! Stan is right, she smells…”, Carl grinned. “She is mine!”, Eric growled. Carl looked at me again. “Tell me, are you truly his?”. I didn’t know how to answer the question; I couldn’t say yes, and let Eric think I’d changed my mind. I drew in a short breath, and began stammering. “I-I’m…”. “Give it a rest, Carl”, Isabel said. “You brought your own human, let Eric have his… It’s like dealing with children”.

Eric took a firm hold of my arm. “I think it’s time for us to turn in”, he said. “But it’s only 2 am!”, Isabel said. “Thank you for your kind invitation”, Eric said. “I will see you at the ceremony”. He put his arm around my waist, and more or less carried me to the elevators; to get us away as soon as possible.

Once the doors closed on the elevator, Eric grabbed my shoulders, and looked hard into my eyes. “Did he glamour you?”, he demanded. “No… no he didn’t”, I said. “What happened just now?”, he asked. “What did you witness?”. “I don’t know what you want me to say…”. Eric clenched his jaw. “I saw Stan act like a dick. He wants Godric to step down… How much detail do you want?”. Eric let go of me, and nodded. “Good… Now, don’t repeat that to anyone save me or Pam. It never happened”.

---

I followed Eric to the suite, where Pam was having a party of her own, with another young woman. “You already fed once, Pam”, Eric said chidingly. “She was on the house!”, Pam said. She looked up from the woman’s wrist, and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Go”. The woman left the room quietly.

Eric waited until the door was closed to speak again. “You’re switching rooms with Liv”, he said. My jaw dropped. “Why?”, Pam asked indignantly. “Yeah, why?”, I agreed. “Because I don’t want her alone down the hall. It’s not safe”. Pam looked like a disgruntled teenager. “But I already unpacked”, she said. “Let her have your room”. Eric raised a brow at her. “You want to share a suite with a human?”, he asked. Pam froze for a moment. “Fine”, she said; and suddenly disappeared from view.

“Is anyone gonna ask me…”, I began. “No”, Eric said, cutting me off. “This is for your own good”. I sat down on the couch, and crossed my arms in annoyance. “Pam’s room doesn’t have a tub”, I muttered. “Mine does”, Eric said. “Feel free to use it”. A smile ghosted his face, and I wanted to simultaneously punch him, and throw myself at him. Pam reappeared. “I moved your shit”, she said. “Didn’t use the bed yet. You’re welcome”. “Thank you, Pam”, Eric said. “Now leave us”. He gave his progeny a look. “And leave some humans for everyone else”. She rolled her eyes again, and left the room.

I got up from the couch, and went towards the door of my new room; finding my suitcase on the bed. This room was slightly smaller; which I guessed was due to the fact that it was in a suite. At least the view was nicer, I realized; as I went to stand by the window. “Feel free to the mini-bar”, Eric said, having appeared behind me in the doorway. For the first time, I didn’t jump at his sudden presence “Why am I here?”, I said. “You’re safer in this suite with me”, he said. “Bullshit”, I said. “You’ll be out cold by 5 am. I might as well be on my own then… Why am I here?”.

Eric went over to my suitcase, and opened it; taking out my new clothes, and looking them over. He pulled out a red knee-length dress, and ripped the stitches on the side, so it would have a slit up the thigh. “Wear this for the ceremony tomorrow night. The color will look good on you”. “Eric!”, I roared. “Answer my goddamn question!”. He put the dress down, and walked towards me. “With you in here, it will seem more likely that you do in fact belong to me”, he said. “Which makes you off limits… But this would all be so much easier, if you’d just say yes to being mine”. I pulled at the hem of the dress I was wearing, feeling it suddenly much too short for the conversation. “Stop fidgeting. I told you…”. “Stop telling me what to do!”, I exclaimed.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled off the ridiculous boots Pam had forced upon me. Once they were off, I stomped past the tall vampire, and in to the living room. I grabbed a coke from the mini-fridge, and searched for an opener; coming up short. Eric came up behind me, and took the bottle; taking off the lid with his bare hand, and handing me the drink. “Thank you”, I muttered, and took a sip, before setting down the bottle on the counter. I wasn’t really thirsty, but I needed to do something to keep myself busy.

“I am trying to keep you alive”, Eric said, taking my hand; and merging his fingers with mine. I pulled myself free, and shook my head. “I’m doing my best to pretend…”, I tried. “Pretending isn’t enough!”, Eric roared. “I want you…”. I took a deep breath, and made a decision. “Then have me”, I said.

Erics jaw dropped; and a warm smile spread across his face. “You’re saying yes…”, he breathed, and leaned in, as if to kiss me. “No… I’m not saying I’m yours”, I said. He instantly pulled back, and looked at me confusedly. “But you said I could have you…”. “I want to be with you… But I have to be my own. Not someone else’s”. I didn’t know how else to put it. He let go of my hand, and stepped back. “So, you want to have sex with me”, he said, raising a brow. “This must be what it feels like, to be a piece of meat… Interesting”.

“I shouldn’t have said anything”, I whispered, feeling embarrassed for being so blunt. “I’m sorry”. “Don’t apologize for being up front”, Eric said. “You’ve had my blood, it’s natural that you’d feel attraction towards me”. “My attraction towards you haven’t changed since I met you. I always found you…”. I halted myself, once again feeling like I’d over spoke. I walked towards the nearest door, wanting nothing more than to hide under the bed in there, and pretend that this conversation never happened. “If you don’t need me anymore tonight, I’m gonna turn in. Goodnight”.

Eric followed me. “Liv…”, he said. “Eric please. Can we just forget it?”, I asked, and tried to close the door behind me. Eric held it open. “Liv, this is my room you just walked in to”. I looked behind me, and saw that I had indeed stepped in to the wrong room. “Oh… Sorry”, I muttered, and went to walk back towards my own room. “You can stay in here… with me”, Eric said. “If you want to… It’s your choice”.

His expression was earnest; warm, even. “I do…”, I said. He smiled softly. “Do you really not feel any blood connection with me?”, he asked. I shook my head. “No…”, I said. “But you want me…?”. “Yes”. There was a pregnant moment, before I suddenly found myself in Erics arms; one of his hands on the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a final confirmation, and I gave it; by getting on my toes, and leaning towards him. “Sunshine”, Eric said, and grasped my lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t tentative. Our tongues immediately met – not battling each other for dominance; but dancing perfectly together. Erics lips were soft against mine, and though he was cool to the touch, his temperature was perfect for the warm evening – and I was hot enough myself to stay warm; adrenalin and my quickly beating heart keeping me that way. I put one hand on the back of Erics neck, and my other arm snaked around his torso; so that I could hold him closer to me. Eric shrugged of his jacket, and took a hold of my thigh; lifting me up to straddle him. I tried to reach the zipper of the dress I was wearing, when I felt it getting ripped open on my back. Eric had been a bit too eager in getting me undressed, as he walked us towards the bed. “Pam is gonna kill you”, I chuckled. Eric simply grunted, and began kissing my neck. “I’ll buy her a new one”, he breathed, and set me down on the floor; ripping the rest of the dress all the way down in the back, and tugging it off me.

I was now stood in front of him in lace panties and my bra. “Well, what do you know… You are wearing underwear”, he said with a wicked smile. “Though, a mismatched set… Interesting choice”. There was a hint of an accent to his voice now; one I hadn’t heard before – as his eyes scanned my body. He was right. I hadn’t chosen a matching set of underwear; as always, I wore what I liked. Usually, I even had trouble wearing matching socks. “You’re starring”, I said. “I’m admiring”, he replied. “You’re so… real". I looked down at myself, and saw all the bumps, spots and stretchmarks that I was used to seeing; suddenly very aware of every imperfection. Before I had a chance to cover myself with my arms, Eric pulled them away. “No, don’t… It’s just how it’s supposed to be”. “Lumpy and underwhelming?”, I said. Eric ran his fingertips down my arm, making me feel small sparks of electricity along every inch he touched. “Human…”, he breathed.

Stepping forwards, I tugged at the hem of his tank top. Eric discarded it, and stood bare-chested in front of me; in no way self-conscious as I had been. I supposed having 1000 years to get used to your own body, made walking around half-naked easy; but on the other hand, Eric had nothing to be ashamed about. He was built like a Viking should be; strong, broad and proud.

“Feel free to touch”, he smirked, when he saw my expression. “You’re so smug!”, I said. Eric took my hands and placed them on his chest. “You like that I am”, he said, and leaned down to kiss my neck again, running his teeth along my earlobe. “I do?”, I croaked. With an arm around my back so I wouldn’t fall, Eric led me to lie back on the large bed. “Yes you do”, he smiled, now moving his lips to mine, while bracing himself, so he didn’t put his full weight on me. “It’s part of my… charisma. And part of what makes you want to throw your legs around my neck”.

I frowned in confusion, before remembering my conversation with Sookie and Bill the week before. “You were listening in!”, I said. “You are such a creep!”. Eric laughed softly, and slid his index finger under the fabric of my bra. “I was curious about you”, he said, and found my nipple erect to his touch. With a pleased smile, he pulled down the cup to free my breast; and dove to suckle at the nub. “You’re nothing like I’ve ever met before”. “Fuck!”, I gasped, when he tugged slightly at it with his teeth. “I intend to”, Eric replied; and his hand moved down my belly, sliding under the top of my panties.

His fingers played with my curls for a moment, before moving further down, and finding my wet folds. “You’re warm…”, he said against my collarbone, and let one finger enter me. “You say that like you’re surprised”, I breathed, and pulled his head up to kiss him. “Am I different than what you’re used to?”. “Yes. And no”, he said, and added another finger inside me. “I want to taste…”. I nodded, and tilted my head. “No. Not yet”. “Then, what?”, I asked confusedly. Eric smiled wickedly at me, and kissed his way down my torso; every peck and nibble a foreshadowing of what I had in wait. Eric withdrew his fingers from me, and discarded of my panties in much the same way as he had the dress. “Now you are buying me new underwear”, I chuckled; before gasping when he – without warning – put his open mouth to my folds.

Just as when we’d first kissed, there was no tentativeness to Erics treatment of my lower lips. He was immediately feasting on me; massaging me with his tongue, and sucking hard at my clit – all while forcing my thighs apart with his hands. I put my hands on his head, and held on to his hair; pulling at it as the first signs of my forthcoming climax showed. My walls where already clenching; and Eric must have felt my muscles tensing up in my legs, because he started growling almost animalistically. He grabbed the outside of my thighs, and put them around his neck – letting go of me from his mouth for a second, to look up at me and grin. See? Told you, his eyes were saying; as his fangs bared. He was enjoying himself immensely. Eric locked my legs there, by putting his arms around them, and joining his hands.

My body was beginning to shake under him, and I was glad Eric was holding me down, as I was quite sure that if he hadn’t, I would fall off the bed. I struggled to keep my moans quiet, but Eric was having none of it.

“You like this?”, he asked. I nodded fervently. “I want to hear you say it…”. “Yes... please down stop…”, I croaked. Erics tongue lathed into me, before sliding up and flicking over my clit repeatedly. “Louder… Let go", he breathed in to me. I grabbed on to the duvet under me, and reminded myself to breathe – beginning to feel lightheaded. At an especially deep suckle of my clit, my climax took me over – jolts going through my body. Eric never let me go, just kept massaging my labia with his tongue. “Eric!”, I yelped, and dug my nails into his arms; which only made him growl in response, and intensify his attack. My back arched as I exploded into the peak of my orgasm; a sound like no other I’d ever made before, escaping my mouth – so loudly, I was sure we’d have noise-complaints.

Eric finally let me go from his mouth, and crawled up my body again; as I regained my breath. “You’re beautiful when you come undone”, Eric smiled; his words reminding me that I was in bed with someone from a completely different time. “You’ll have to make it happen again”, I breathed, and pulled him close for a kiss; tasting myself on his lips. “I plan to”, he said.

Before I knew what had happened, my bra was torn from my body, and I was finally completely bare under the vampire. Erics shoes, pants and underwear were gone within seconds; leaving him gloriously naked for me to admire. Erics cock was the right size for his build; proportionate to his body. If I was to describe it, I would say it went perfectly with the rest of him; long and well-built. Nothing in Mr. Northman’s un-life was mismatched. Eric didn’t change his facial expression or his body language once he was naked. He was always a smug bastard, dressed or undressed. If anything, his clothes were just a barrier he needed to get out of the way, to feel my skin on his; and I was quite sure he was perfectly comfortable walking around naked, if it hadn’t been for social standards.

He laid down on top of me, and grabbed on to my head – tangling his fingers into my hair – before attacking my mouth with another passionate kiss. I snaked my leg around his hips, and before I knew it, he was inside me; thrusting continuously within my warmth. I scratched my nails down his back in response; overwhelmed by the sensation of his hardness filling me. I pulled my head back to look into his eyes, and saw nothing but lust and want for me in them. He pushed one leg up next to me, giving him a different angle; and he smiled once he hit his goal – my g-spot. My eyes rolled back in my head, when I once again felt my walls begin to quiver.

We rocked back and forth together, almost making me feel like we were waves in the ocean. I whimpered, and buried my face in the crook of Erics neck; holding on to him tight, and feeling his taut muscles move under his skin. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me equally as close; when suddenly, he sat up – pulling me with him. Eric was kneeling on the bed; and with a hand on my butt, and the other on my shoulder, he helped me move on his lap. I swirled my hips, so I could feel friction against my clit; and moving his hand to my hip, Eric led my movements, making me reach the right rhythm for our joint enjoyment.

There was no sound in the room, save our moans and pants. Eric was loud in his groans, unabashed in his enjoyment of our love-making. He was clambering on to me – couldn’t get me close enough – and only let our torsos part to look down at our joined sexes as they came together. The sight made him growl, and he grabbed on to the back of my head; pressing his lips hard to mine. “Why do you feel so good around me?”, he rasped. “So warm and alive?”. “I don’t… oh, fuck!”, I whimpered, when he once again hit my g-spot.

With an unusually soft kiss at the side of my neck, Eric let me know to brace myself – and suddenly a sharp pain stung where he had kissed me, as he bit into me, and drew blood from the wound. I saw white, and instantly came around him, crying out in pleasure. Eric pulled back, and looked into my eyes in bewilderment. “You taste… so pure!”, he said, and latched on to me again. He moved his hips to thrust hard in to me as he suckled. I felt my blood pumping into his mouth, and it was as if our bodies melded together; as my walls clenched hard around his hardness. Pulling back from my neck, Eric cried out; and I felt him twitch inside me, as he joined me in orgasming.

My breathing was ragged, and Eric gently lowered me back onto the mattress; licking over the puncture wounds on my neck. “Are you alright, sunshine?”, he asked. I nodded slightly; a blissful smile on my lips. “Are you?”, I asked. He chuckled at my question. “I don’t think I’ve been asked that after sex before”, he said. “Yes, I am”. We kissed each other softly, and I sighed in contentment. Before he withdrew his fangs, Eric pricked a hole in his finger, and put the trickle of blood to the wounds on my neck; gently stroking over them. I felt a tickling sensation, and when I put my hand to my skin, the marks were gone. “I can heal you…”, he said. “That’s good to know”.

He slowly withdrew from my still throbbing core, and laid down next to me on his side. As I turned to face him, I found him almost caressing me with his eyes. For a long moment, we just laid there – not touching, simply looking at each other’s faces and bodies. I reached for his hand, and Eric brushed his lips over my knuckles. “Why do you call me sunshine?”, I asked. He smiled softly, and there was a glint in his eyes, as he responded. “I haven’t seen the sun in 1000 years… But when I look at you, it’s like I see it again”. I’d never blushed more in my life, than I did at that moment; until I remembered something. “Sunshine hurts you…”, I muttered. “So do you”, Eric said. I shook my head in confusion. “How?”, I asked. Eric shifted next to me, and suddenly looked very serious. “Every time I ask you to be mine, and you say no”.

I covered my face in my hands, but Eric pushed them away. “I want you to be mine!”. He got up to lay on top of me, and put both hands on either side of my face – burying his eyes in mine. “Please, be mine”. I put my hands on his chest, wanting to say yes, but knowing that I couldn’t. “I told you… The last time someone called me theirs… It didn’t end well”, I said; my voice shaking. “Tell me who he is”, Eric growled. “I will rip out his ribcage and force it down his throat!”. “He… No… You can’t”. Eric narrowed his eyes. “Do you love him?”, he asked. “No!”, I exclaimed. “Never… Eric, it’s complicated…”. “If you don’t belong to someone else, why won’t you give yourself to me?”. I sighed exasperatedly. “Why do I have to belong to you?”, I asked. “Why can’t we just… be?”.

Eric seemed to ponder my words, but came out looking bewildered, and laid back on his pillow. “I don’t know how to do that”, he said. “I have had sex with humans that aren’t mine, but never more than once or twice". “Why not?”. “Because, like I said, they bore me… You don’t. It’s why I want to keep you, as mine. So that I can have you whenever I want”, he said. I flinched at his question. “If I was… yours… you’d expect me to have sex with you whenever you wanted?”. “You ask a lot of questions”, Eric chuckled, and pulled at me, to make me lay in the crook of his arm. “I’m just trying to understand you…”, I said. “You make it sound like you’ve been forcing people to have sex with you”. “No, they usually want to. If they don’t… Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who said no to me, before you". I was momentarily stunned at his words. “So, you… glamour them?”, I asked. “No. I’m just that charming”, he said matter-of-factly.

I laid for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Eric sighed deeply, and unnecessarily. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone who does not want it. But if you were mine, I wouldn’t have to share you with any other vampire… or, hopefully, man”. Darkness ghosted his face. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine”. “I-I get that… I think. But the whole ‘have you whenever I want’ part…?”, I said, imitating his tone; and making him smile bemusedly. “Well, if you said yes to me, it would be because you wanted to belong to me. That kind of relationship usually comes with frequent sex…”. “Belong…”, I said with distaste. “What’s to keep us from just having sex when we want, without me belonging to you?”. Eric lifted his head to look at me. It was as if I was speaking in some foreign language, he’d never heard before. “That’s an option…”, he said, making it hard for me to make out whether it was a question or a statement.

His meaning was made clear to me, when suddenly he flipped me around, and made me lay on my stomach. Getting on top of me, his blunt tip pushed at my entrance. “I’m going to fuck you again. I’m not going to be gentle, and I will bite you”, he said. “Tell me to stop, if I’m hurting you”. I swallowed hard, and nodded. Eric pushed into me – bottoming out – then grabbed both my wrists in one large hand; holding them together behind my back.

Pushing my thighs apart with his knee, he pushed my leg upwards next to me; so that he could reach deeper inside me. “Djup… varm… fuktig…”, he growled as he rutted in to me. “E-english…!”, I croaked. “Perfect”, he said, and pushed hard in to me again.

Suddenly, Eric sped up his movements; slamming his hips against my cheeks. The sounds of our lovemaking were becoming animalistic in their nature; and being held down – unable to move – forced me to feel every delicious ripple of his cock moving in and out of me. Wrapping his free hand around my throat, Eric leaned down over me, and tilted my head; so that he could kiss my neck. He moved his hand to hold on to my hair, pulling at it; and laughing softly at my squeaks of delight. “Please…”, I said. “What?”, he asked, sucking and kissing the skin on my neck. “Harder…”.

Eric let go of my wrists, and in stead took a hold of my hips. With a roar, he pounded in to me hard; and I instantly unfurled around him; crying out in extasy. A fire spread from my core, as he excavated me – and suddenly Eric bit in to my neck again; growling, as he sucked at the wound. I was seeing white as I came; and with a roar, Eric let go of my neck, and spilled himself inside me.

I felt small kisses on my shoulder-blades, and the sudden emptiness in my warmth, as Eric pulled out of me. He helped me turn around, so I could lay against his chest. He was warm now – warmer­, anyway. “Don’t you have to go to ground?”, I asked. “The sun will be out soon”. Eric turned to press a button on the bedside table. Blinders soon covered the large windows. “Why would I, when this bed is more comfortable than the travel coffin?”, he said. “And you are here…”.

I was already dozing off.

---

I woke up in complete confusion. Next to me – still as a rock – lay a large, blond and very naked man; with his arm draped over my torso. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and what had happened; when a dull pain from between my legs, reminded me of my nighttime adventure.

Managing to wrestle myself free from the grasp of the large Viking, I made my way to my own room; and in to the bathroom to clean up. In the mirror, I saw that the fang-marks from Erics last bite hadn’t healed. I told myself to yell at him for forgetting – right after I checked to see if he’d even acknowledge my presence. He had gotten what he wanted from me, after all. When I have sex with a human, I usually bore with them pretty quickly, he’d said. I managed to get back to the fact that I was in Dallas for work – a job that paid 10.000 in fact – but that just made me feel like a prostitute.

After putting on a button up dress, and a pair of flats; I went back up to the top floor – where a maid had told me I’d find the restaurant, so I could have lunch. It was too late for breakfast. The restaurant turned out to be the same room, that I’d been in with Eric the night before, at the party; but it looked completely different. The sun was high on the sky, lighting up the purple decorated room. I recognized a few humans from the party; among them, the woman who had been with Stan. She was more or less asleep over her coffee, and had several fang-marks all over her exposed skin.

Once I’d eaten my fill from the buffet, I went down to the reception, and asked for car-service; to take me to the artist Eric had patronized. His studio was in an old warehouse, and when he opened the door to greet me; I stumbled backwards in fear. “Thomas…”, I rasped, when I looked upon the face of the man who had beat me, and almost raped me; before Godric stopped him. “Guilty as charged”, Thomas smiled brightly. He ran a hand through his black hair; the same hand that had held me down by the neck, as he beat me with the other. “Can I help you, miss?”. There was no recognition in his voice.

My breath hitched, and I found it hard to speak. “You don’t… remember…?”, I asked. Thomas smiled apologetically, and shook his head. “I’m sorry… I see a lot of faces in my work”, he said. “Is that why you’re here?”. “I-I’m here for Eric Northman…”, I said, my voice shaking. His eyes widened. “Yeah, of course!”, he said. “Come in!”.

Thomas stepped aside, and I stepped in to a large combined studio and living space. The walls were covered in photographs; new and old. Thomas was a photographer, and a restorer of old photographs. He’d made his money for years, from taking pictures all over the states; mostly portraits, but also action shots from concerts and other live performances. That was how I had met him; as he was taking my picture while I danced at Sugar and Spice. What had started innocent, had ended terrifyingly.

Covertly, I reached in to my purse for my phone; ready to dial up Eric. The sun outside the large window reminded me he could do nothing for me, for at least another few hours. I was on my own. A young woman stepped out of a door from what I figured was a bathroom combined with a dark-room for Thomas’ work. She was wearing panties and a tank top; and when she saw me, she hurried over to the nearby bed, to put on a robe. “Sorry…”, she muttered. Thomas looked at her, and an expression I remembered all too well, ghosted his face. I noticed a purplish mark on the woman’s jaw, and as she tugged at the sleeves of the robe, I saw another around her wrist. I wanted to take her with me; save her somehow – and winced, when I saw her going through a drawer; finding a small glass vial, with red liquid inside. This woman was on V; and was probably looking for some pain relief.

Apparently, he didn’t find it necessary to introduce me to the woman, because Thomas headed straight over to a nearby table, and picked up a medium sized, flat package. “This took some serious restoration”, he said. “But I managed to recreate it as best I could”. He turned around to face me again, and I jumped a little at his swift movement. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. You’re very talented…”, I said; catching myself. “Or so I’ve been told”. “I do my best”, Thomas said, and walked over to hand me the package. I took it from him, and backed towards the door; not wanting to turn my back to him for anything in the world. “You know, I think I do know you from somewhere…”, he said. “Have you ever been in San Diego?”. “I have to go”, I said, and went for the door.

Suddenly, Thomas’ strong hand was on my shoulder – so strong, that I knew the V the woman had been going for, was probably from his stash. I froze in place, and readied myself for pain. Thomas’ eyes flickered in confusion. “Miss?”. I swallowed hard, tensing up; and trying to hold back tears. “Could you tell Mr. Northman that I’d be happy to come to Shreveport, if he ever needs any promo-pictures for his bar?”. “I will”, I said, almost inaudibly.

I forced myself to move away from his hold, and hurried out the door; almost running for the waiting car. Once safely inside it, I pushed the button to raise the blinder between me and the driver; and I could finally let my tears fall.

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #true blod #eric northman smut

[bisexualdaemon]

Cake

a/n: when tipsy meets twitter, all bets are off

hello! I woke up three days ago like I’d been reborn in my love for this kid, so I wrote this filth 😅 i’ve posted a few times recently about this video but if you haven’t seen it, scroll my blog or search cake lol trust me it’s worth your time. 

(masterlist is linked in my description)

warnings: 3.9k of absolute filth

Movie night had ended hours ago, giving way to sleepy rideshares and drunken footsteps into the second bedroom. Brian was passed out and snoring in the giant armchair across from you. The Top Gun drinking game had gone wrong at around the eighth high five and completely derailed at the sixth “Iceman,” which became a salud of sorts in the room. Beer cans, mango White Claws, and the occasional tequila bottle littered the kitchen island.

“Psst, are you awake?” a toe poked your side from above. Shawn looked down at you with a cocked eyebrow from under his crooked elbow. You’d taken residence behind his legs, resting your head on his hip to watch the movie, bowing out of getting totally trashed. Your lips were still tingly enough to be dangerous.

“Yeah,” you croaked, clearing your throat and stretching, “I’m awake.”

“Are you suuure?” he slurred, tired and tipsy. The smirk was audible, “I thought I felt you drooling through my sweatpants.” His breath came out in a whoosh when you punched him in the abs with your outstretched arm.

“How’s that for awake, fucker?!” He chuckled and caught at your hand, unfisting your fingers and playing with them as he pulled out his phone. You let him. You even opened your hand fully so he could trace little patterns on your palm.

It had been like this for a few months, the flirting, the touching. A drunken night of 20-somethings playing spin the bottle had ended with multiple people clearing their throats with wide eyes as Shawn kissed you.

My God, he had kissed you. Fingers splayed against your neck, his lips gently interlocked with yours. It started out chaste, just two mouths touching, but as soon as he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, it was game over. The people, the voices, your friends, all melted away and it was just the two of you. His top lip between yours. Gentle sucking pressure. His body heat radiating onto your skin. It was everything you never knew you wanted. Until Connor clapped Shawn on the shoulder and ripped him away, turning the two of you into human embarrassed laughing emojis.

Since then, it had been like this. His hand on your lower back at the coffee shop, lazy naps together after midday movies, play fighting and fake indignation after one too many shots at the bar. Your friends all shared sideways looks and snide smirks every time you hung out but you hadn’t crossed any lines again and you definitely hadn’t talked about it. Whatever it was didn’t need conversation. It was fun. It was nothing. He was busy. He was a globally-famous popstar. You were normal. The last thing you wanted was one of those embarrassing tabloid articles, “15 Things You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’s New Fling.” So, in the quiet moments, you let him trace patterns on your palm and send shivers down to your toes.

“Hey, come up here, I’m scrolling Twitter,” he swept his fingers down to your wrist and gave it a tug, a little giddiness in his tone. He made space for you in front of him on the couch, giving you his bicep as a pillow. You settled back against his hard chest and let your legs weave into his. He’s so goddamn warm. It was a mistake wearing jean shorts to his condo. There was a part of you that wondered if he turned the A/C down on purpose but you didn’t want to think about why.

Scrolling Twitter, where Shawn saw the most fan activity, was one of your favorite pastimes. Seeing the reactions to this dude you knew in real life was occasionally shocking, sometimes horrifying, but always amusing. He held the phone out in front of you and thumbed through his feed.

Most of his mentions were about missing him. He’d been on a break since the end of his last tour, taking some time to himself without a schedule for every minute of every day. For a guy who had been taking photos with fans pretty much everyday for the last seven years, you understood why they might be freaking out. He’d broken the pattern. Thank God for that.

You tried to keep your eyes from crossing at the repeated “I miss Shawn @shawnmendes” tweets and the feeling of his alcohol-warmed fingers against your hip. I shouldn’t want this.

“Wait!” you snapped a finger at his phone, “what was that?”

“Oh, that?” he scrolled back, “it’s just an old video.” His voice broke a couple octaves on the last bit. The tweet was accompanied by the wide-eyed blushing emoji. Curious. You raised an eyebrow and watched. He was eating a guitar-shaped cake...with his hands. Mouth wide open, his face buried over and over in thick pieces of chocolate cake with some kind of blue frosting on it. It was fucking filthy. You rubbed your thighs together absent-mindedly.

“What do the comments say?” You poked at his phone before he could move it away.

“Oh, nothing really,” his voice was still high, which meant he knew what the comments likely said. You huffed and grabbed at the phone. “Shawn, you know I have Twitter, I’ll see it whether you like it or not!” You rammed your hips backward, pausing for a second when you felt something you weren’t expecting, but not for too long. He sucked in a breath, coughing, and dropped his phone—right into your waiting hands.

“Hahaha!” You jumped up and ran to the other side of the big white couch, kicking your legs in victory, “I win!” He tripped over his own oversized limbs before he got to you, falling to the floor within reach of your feet. He reached out and pulled your legs toward him, framing his face between your thighs. Your giggles stopped short and your face flamed.

“Can you assholes get a room?!” Brian was awake and fussing at the thin fleece blanket he’d scrounged off the back of the couch. He rolled over mumbling something that sounded like just fucking fuck already but you were too busy thinking about Shawn’s head still between your legs to be bothered by it.

Shawn slowly lifted his finger to his lips in the universal sign to be quiet and untangled himself to stand. He reached out a hand and you didn’t hesitate to grab it, leading you to his bedroom down the hall. You held his phone in a death grip, unwilling to let go in case he caught you off guard.

The room was dark, save for his phone, the rectangle reflecting a solid white off the wall of glass facing the city. The CN Tower lights flickered in the late night sky, seemingly suspended in midair. His unmade  bed was the biggest and brightest thing in the room. A white comforter hung half on the floor at an odd angle off the corner of the mattress, his white sheets completely exposed. The pillows were all scrunched up at the headboard, like he’d been kicking and pushing all night long. Like he hadn’t slept soundly in weeks.

“Okay, so what you’re about to read…” he shut the door behind him, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “it’s gonna be weird, but like it’s fine I’m used to it. They’re...a little invasive.” Weird? Invasive? Curiouser and curiouser…

You walked over to his bed, picking up the comforter and tossing it haphazardly back onto the bed, and sat on the edge staring at the video and letting it play a few more times. Then you swiped down.

@canadianmendussy: ALEXA PLAY BIRTHDAY CAKE BY RIHANNAAAAA

@perfectlyru1n: oh my goD does he really go down like thAT?!

“Oh...my God,” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, “you’ve seen this before?”

He bounced on the mattress facedown, mumbling something into the sheets.

“What was that?” you asked, with Southern sweet tea levels of sugar. You ruffled his hair, brushing through his curls. He turned his head, his face flushed with more than just alcohol.

“I said yes, I’ve seen it before…” he opened one eye and looked up at you, “I usually just ignore them.”

There were over 400 replies on this tweet, some people chiding the horny stans for posting something Shawn can see, others just piling on.

@illuminateruin: is that cake gluten-free?

@kidinlover: @illuminateruin idk but I know pussy is

@particularbenito: CAN HE EAT PUSSY LIKE THAT?!?!?!

“Can he eat pussy like that...” you read out loud under your breath, your mind conjuring up that image of his face between your thighs. Shawn’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“What???” His face was practically magenta at this point, “is that a serious question??”

“What? Uhh, no. Not serious. A reply actually,” you rushed, giving him a sideways look. I mean...maybe it was a serious question? The curiosity was going to kill you. Oh, no. No, no, no. Your lips tingled.

“Well, I mean….can you?” You could hear the glint in your eye.

Fuck it all.

“Can I….w-what?” he stuttered, the air crackling between the two of you. He looked like a cornered animal, like the wrong move would get him killed.

“Can you,” you pushed a loose curl out of his face and nodded toward his phone, “eat pussy like that?”

Oh, God, did I just…?

“I’ve never gotten any complaints,” your head popped up at his self-satisfied tone. Gone was the red-faced shy boy talking about embarrassing fans. The Shawn in front of you was...confident. Hungry. His fingers grazed your ankles resting beside him. It didn’t escape your notice. You shivered.

It wasn’t cold.

“M-maybe they were just too afraid to tell a big, famous rockstar that he sucked,” you were the one stuttering now, face heating by the second.

“Oh, sucking was definitely part of it,” his fingers traced the indent in your calf. You refused to pull away even though you should, even though part of you—a small, shrinking part—knew that if this went where it was definitely going, things were going to change. You snuck a finger under his chin to pull his gaze to yours.

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t know,” he flashed a toothy smile, gravity and sheer force of will pulling his body toward yours, “is that an invitation?”

I’m probably gonna regret this in the morning.

Your lips crashed into his, giving him your answer. His mouth was hot, his breathing heavy. Tongues and teeth and lips wrestled together, refusing to part while he made his way above you, crawling on hands and knees between your legs as you settled against the pillows. He licked up into your mouth just before nibbling on your bottom lip, forcing a moan from deep inside you. This was primal, the need you felt with him. Like once you came together, nothing could break you apart.

His hands moved up your body, scratching gently at your exposed legs and slipping beneath your hoodie. He broke away from your lips to shuck off your top and expose all your delicate skin. His fingers slipped beneath your lace bralette and he played with the tiny clasp between your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a little out of breath, his thin t-shirt pressing against your skin.

You nodded so quickly you thought your neck might snap. He popped the clasp and spread his calloused hands across your chest. The friction was glorious. Your body chased his fingers involuntarily, bowing up off the high thread count sheets.

“Be still, baby,” he whispered, dipping his head and placing an open mouthed kiss just above your belly button. Your eyes rolled back at the pet name, another moan escaping your lips. Warmth rushed between your legs.

“Shawn,” you gasped, trying to control your breathing so he didn’t know just how fucked you were, “when I gave you an invitation, I didn’t expect you to be late to the party.” You rocked your hips up into his chest pointedly.

“Well, I can't just jump to the entrée, can I?” He fiddled with the button on your denim shorts, loosening it with a little pop. Teasing, he licked at a freckle just above your hip before sucking at it with enough force to leave a mark.

“Fuck!” Your hands shot down to his mop of curls, fingers buried in the thick locks. He pulled and nibbled at that spot over and over, all while grazing his fingers just beneath the waistband of your simple cotton cheeky panties.

When he pulled away, an angry red violet half-moon colored the skin. He took one last lick, smiling at your gasp in response.

“I love that sound,” he sat back on his heels between your legs, looking down at your heaving chest.

“I’ll make it again if you take that shirt off,” you reached for him with grabby hands, trying to Harry Potter that shit. He laughed and did the boy thing, grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck before tugging it forward off his body.

The gasp came again. Not even on purpose or because you’s promised him, but because he was so stupid gorgeous in the low light of the city you couldn’t help yourself. You’d seen him in hot tubs and at sweaty summer parties and in those fucking Calvin Klein pictures, but none of that compared to having him shirtless between your thighs just a few inches from your outstretched fingers.

His chest was flushed, some combination of adrenaline and alcohol. Little freckles dotted his lightly tanned skin all the way up his torso to the dusting of chest hair that colored his chest. His perfect pink nipples were hard against the cool air of the room, begging for you to touch or kiss or bite. Or all of the above. You reached out to trace his appendix scar where it peaked out of his low-slung sweatpants. His body danced away from you as he caught at your hand.

“Don’t,” he growled, weaving his fingers between yours and pressing his lips onto the back of your palm like a fucking Victorian gentleman. Like he wasn’t staring down at your hardening nipples thinking about how good they would feel pinched warm between his fingers. He tipped forward, bracing himself against the mattress, his mouth just a few centimeters from your skin. Dragging flesh against flesh, he left kisses at random in the valley between your breasts. Moving farther and farther down your body, he paused, sitting up on his heels.

“Are you sure?” He was breathing heavy, looking straight through you, both hands hovering around the edges of your shorts. You were nodding before he even finished his question.

He curled his fingers around all the fabric in his way, denim and cotton both, and dragged the offending pieces of clothing down your legs, lifting them off and tossing them against the wall across the room. You breathed steady, looking at him looking at you. His mouth hung open in speechless wonder.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, settling back between your thighs, a mirror of his earlier pose on the couch. Another wave of heat rushed straight to your clit, silently screaming for him.

“I know,” you brushed through his curls, giving him a suggestive grin when he looked up at you, “I taste good too.”

That was all the permission he needed. A second later, he buried his face between your legs, nudging your knees over his shoulders. His tongue swirled in circles around your clit finishing in random flicks. He moaned into you, his lips closing around your swollen folds with gently sucking pressure.

“Shit, Shawn!” you shouted, praying to the gods that everyone still in the condo was too drunk and passed out to hear you. The white sheets bunched in your fists, arms spread wide. Your thighs clamped down against his ears.

He continued his licks and flicks, snaking his hands up your legs and gently prying your legs apart. You clenched hard as he pinned your thighs to the mattress, holding you open with his forearms. Filthy sounds echoed off the walls, wet sucking, moaning from both of you. He dipped his chin and circled your entrance with his tongue, lapping at you.

“Christ!” your hands shot into his damp curls. He was working hard down there, flexing and moaning and fighting your spasms. You looked down and saw his hips impatiently rutting into the mattress. It only made you wetter, gushing onto his waiting tongue. He drank everything you gave him.

“He’s not here,” he said in a low and gravelly voice, a little breathless. He pulled back, the bottom half of his face shining in the dark. His fingers toyed with your sensitive, wet lips, watching as you twitched and trembled, so close to the edge. A firm circle around your clit had your back bowing, contorting backward off the bed. A single tear rolled down your temple.

“I’m so close,” you panted, trapping his outstretched hand against your skin.

“Shawn, I need you.”

“Need me?” His fingers paused, “need me where?”

“Oh, God, don’t stop,” you choked out, a sob threatening. Your back arched up off the sheets again to find friction. “I need...I need you inside me.”

At some point between your words and the needy moan that followed, he’d removed his sweatpants and a black pair of Calvins. You heard him rustling his hand inside the bedside table followed by the metallic sound of foil and the sharp scent of latex. Thank fuck he’s prepared.

When he dropped down onto his forearms, hovering an inch from where you needed him, you were dripping onto the sheets, grinding down into the mattress waiting desperately for him. He ran his nose over your collarbone, peppering kisses along your neck. It was slow and deliberate. A fucking tease.

“Shawn,” you pulled his face up to yours, all squished between your hands, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I will…”

He pressed inside to the hilt in one swift motion, cutting off your threat.

“What are you swearing to do, princess?” he asked, a smirk and a fire in his eyes. The moan that escaped you in response was embarrassingly loud. He stilled and closed his eyes, allowing you to adjust. You took even breaths, relaxing into his hips, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. His cock was perfect. He was perfect.

I am so fucked.

He moved, slowly at first, stroking all the right places. When his hips separated from yours, pulling almost all the way out, he rutted back inside. It was deep, long thrusts touching some place inside you weren’t sure you knew was there. Your head thrashed against the pillows. Your grip on his shoulders turned sharp, clawing long red-raw marks into his pale skin.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he hissed into your ear, “fuck, you’re so tight.” His abs scraped against your body like a washboard, the tension clear in his muscles. He was wound up, ready to shatter. He crashed into you, repeatedly slapping skin against skin. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles in contrast with the punishing rhythm of his hips. He lifted one of your legs over his hip to change the angle, to make you even tighter around him. A bead of salty-sweet sweat dropped from his chest into your mouth.

“Right...there,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back, “I’m gonna come!”

“That’s right, honey,” he grunted, flattening his fingers across your clit with intense pressure, “come for me.”

The room went white. The sound of your hips colliding was replaced with a high-pitched ring. Your world seemed to implode, your muscles moving independently. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you as he fucked you through the waves, his weight the only thing keeping you from being swept away in the current.

“Stay here with me,” he cooed, sweet but taut in his throat. Your heart slammed against your ribs in rhythm with his hips. He grunted once, twice, three times with his final thrusts and came undone, pumping into the condom. Biting down on your shoulder to stifle his sounds, he sucked hard enough to leave an angry mark. You contracted around him, both inside and out, curling around his thighs and back and neck, letting the full weight of his completely spent body bring you back to full consciousness.

“Hey,” you fingered his frizzed and fucked curls, “Shawn?”

“Hmm?” he nuzzled into your hands and squeezed you a little tighter.

“You’re crushing me,” you exhaled, strained.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!”

He shifted to his side, accidentally pulling out too quickly, making both of you wince.

“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry,” he was so cute when he was scrambling. He got up and threw out the used condom, quickly returning from the adjoining bathroom with a damp cloth.

“Come here,” he held his arms out, making a perfect you-sized place in front of him. You slid into it easily and let him press the cloth between your legs, wincing again.

“Did I hurt you?” There was so much concern in his voice.

“No, no, I just…” you held onto his arm, glad to be facing away, “I haven’t been fucked like that in awhile.”

“Glad to be of service.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to see his smug smile. Reaching back, you slapped his thigh in retaliation. He caught your hand and kissed it like a Victorian gentleman again, like it made up for his cockiness. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t, flushing even harder than your just-fucked body should have allowed. He wrapped his arm around your front and intertwined your legs, snuggling his face into the nape of your neck.

“So, uhhh, are we gonna do this again?” he asked, barely concealing the hope in his voice.

“Shhh,” you said, yawning for effect, “we’ll talk about it in the morning. Just sleep.”

He exhaled against your back, placing one last kiss on the mark you were sure he’d left in the midst of his orgasm. You stared out into the Toronto skyline as his breathing evened, his quiet snores barely audible against the screaming voices in your head. As the light crept into the room, as morning dawned on your sleepless night, you repeated his question over and over again.

Are we gonna do this again?

There was an easy answer: yes. Yes, yes, yes, my God, yes you were going to do this again. But there was another, harder question to answer beneath it. If we do this again, will we ever be able to stop?

***

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @fromthicctosticcc @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth @kerwritesthings @starlightsivann @lavenderhoneymndes @begginyouformendes @fallinallincurls @shawn-youth​ @linanilssonfurberg​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @bucky-ish​

(as always let me know if you want on/off the tag list...I realize I don’t post regularly and like half of these people could be out of the fandom lol)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing #yeah it took me a little more than an hour but it's HERE and that's all that MATTERS

[oftenderweapons]

And Chocolate for Dinner - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.7k

Genre: smut, fluff

Rating: 18+ 

Hello babies, very NSFW Namjoon birthday fic right here! (Minors DO NOT READ OR INTERACT, PLEASE)

I won’t even say anything because I’ve just finished editing the banner and I’m honestly NOT in the right state of mind, still shocked from yesterday’s selfie AND that interview, you know what I’m talking about.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: very daddy. A lot. Heavy food play. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (please, be careful y’all!) Fingering. Buff, daddy Namjoon. (did I say daddy?) Wall banging ;). Mentions of oral. Size kink. Also a small mention of YoongixKitten... LOL.  

Wordcount: 3.7k

Here is my masterlist

And here a kind reminder that you should probably vote for the next prompt (check my bio for the link) :)

Enjoy!

"Vixen, baby I'm home!" Namjoon called from the entry.

You stayed in the kitchen — not like you had any choice. 

"Baby, are you home?" He called again, following the light in the corridor. "Holy fuck babe, yeah."

Yes, he had found you. 

At the kitchen table. 

Scratch that. On the kitchen table. 

Naked. 

A chocolate cake for two propped on your belly, together with a fancy silver fork. 

"Happy birthday, love." You greeted from the table, moving only as much as the cake allowed. 

"Fuck, is this a dream?" He asked, wide eyed, his incredulous expression quickly shifting to a big and ecstatic smile. 

"It's your birthday, daddy. I just tried making one of your wishes come true." You teased. 

"Vixen, love, I'm going to spoil you rotten, baby." He said, taking a seat. "You trust me with the silverware on you?" He asked, surprised. 

"There’s a small plastic disk at the base of the cake. Plus you're old now, mister, time to learn some manners. I'm not going to let you eat with your hands." You chastised. "I'll need those for later." You teased. 

He winked at you. "I can eat dessert before dinner?" He asked, happy like a three year old who'd just been granted ice cream for dinner. 

"This is just an appetiser. A snack." You said, carefully pointing to the cake. "And this is the whole meal." You said, your hand waving down your naked body. 

His belly laugh echoed in the kitchen. 

"Then let me start quick so we can move on to the main course. I've heard the house offers excellent fox meat tonight."

You smiled brightly at him as he bent down to your lips. “I love you so much, little one.” He pressed a kiss to your mouth, then to your forehead. “You have no idea how much.”

“Eat quick, the chocolate sauce is starting to melt and it tickles like hell.” You begged.

He smiled wickedly, grabbing the fork. “Last time I checked tickling turned you on, babylove.”

You pouted, watching him cut some cake and take the first bite. “It wouldn’t be ideal for me to break into a fit of giggles right now.” You commented. 

He nodded, taking another bite. “I’m sorry, love.” He confessed. “How ungrateful of me to tease you after such a beautiful surprise.” With his spare hand he caressed your hair, then touched your lips. “You’re so precious to me, little one.” He bent down again, his chocolate stained lips landing on yours.

You licked his lips sweetly, as innocently as possible. “Do you like your cake?” You asked, faking demureness, waiting for nothing but his praise.

“I love it, little one. But I love the plate way, way more.” 

Carefully he took a piece of cake to your lips. “Taste some, baby.” He said, feeding you a piece a bit too big, especially considering that you were laying down. 

“Sorry, doll. I fed you too much, uh?” He caressed your face as you munched, cheeks full, gulping with difficulty. “Want something to drink, ____?”

You kept munching, shaking your head delicately. 

You inhaled sharply as a droplet of chocolate slipped onto your belly. “Joon.” You whined.  

“Yes.” He ate another bite. He was halfway through the small cake. 

“Chocolate. Near my belly button. Quick, please.” You said, your lower abs twitching as the sauce tickled you. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyelids lowered in a sultry gaze. 

Slowly, he lowered his face to your skin, licking you seductively. 

“Joonie.” You whimpered. “It tickles daddy.”

“I’m sorry, little one.” He went back to the cake, making eye contact as he started the other half. “Do you want another piece, baby? A small one, this time.” He said, blushing slightly as he remembered his previous mistake.

“Please.” 

He brought the fork to your mouth, the piece maybe accidentally falling on your chest. “Oh, sorry baby fox.” He said with faux guilt in his voice. 

You pouted. 

“Here,” he said, collecting the piece with his lips and offering it to yours. Your kiss felt heavy with chocolate sauce, slippery and sticky. His mouth made you want indecent things. 

“That’s so good, Joonie.” You mewled, your legs squeezing together. 

“Is my babylove growing impatient?” He teased, caressing your hip. 

You nodded, your face made up with the sweetest, childish disappointment, a bratty remark ready on your lips. 

“Open your legs, Vixen.” He commanded. He smeared his fingers in chocolate, drawing a line between your breasts, up to your mouth. He tapped his digits on your lower lip, inviting you to suck on him. 

You carried out his intention, offering up even more, licking his fingertips deviously. 

“Look at that doll mouth,” he praised with wonder in his voice. “Yeah, baby, take it all.”

You nodded, proud. 

“That’s it, baby fox. Lick ‘em clean.” He continued. 

Wetness oozed from your slit, coating your thighs, condensation gathering on the table. 

“You’re so hot, Vixen. So incredibly sexy.” He murmured as he lapped at the chocolate line he had drawn on your body. 

You parted your legs obediently. “Now what, daddy?” You said, biting your lip with a lazy grin. 

He kissed the small snake tattooed on your pelvis. “You smell so good, baby thing.” 

He took a bite of the cake directly with his mouth, heading south. 

You grabbed his hair, pulling him away roughly as you needed to stop him quickly. “That’s not safe, love.” You chastised seriously. “Sugars mess up the natural balance down there.”

He listened carefully and nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t know.” He murmured, coming up to your mouth. 

You giggled as you noticed some crumbles on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay. Dork.” You giggled, cleaning the crumbles away with your finger, eating them from your digit. 

He shook his head, tutting at you. “Vixen, baby. Do you want to play a game?” He asked, peppering small kisses on you. 

You raised your eyebrows, curiosity running through your veins. “What is it?”

“Would you like to touch yourself? Get ready for me?” He offered?

Stretch yourself out. That’s what he meant. You were most definitely getting fucked after this one, and apparently not in the loving, soft way you had expected.

You tried reaching for your pelvis without knocking the cake over. Carefully calculating the angle of your elbow, you successfully managed to touch your clit, nodding. 

“Good girl.” He kissed your nose. “Always such a good girl for daddy.” He cooed, caressing your cheek. 

“I’m so wet, daddy.” You whined, your fingers almost too slippery over our clit. 

“That’s because you’ve been a good girl.” He explained with a condescending tone. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Baby is getting petty, uh?” He growled, “You were doing so good, little one. You wouldn’t want to get daddy angry when you’re so close, mh?” He put down the fork on your belly, the cold metal slightly warmed up by his grip, then he laid his head beside your ear. “I can turn this into torture, babylove. I can make you touch yourself until I finish the cake. And I’m feeling a little full, so I might take a pause, wait a while, and continue eating later.” He whispered before raising to his feet, taking a couple steps away. “Maybe I might finish it tomorrow morning for breakfast.” He announced nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I’m a spoiled brat.” You cried out, afraid of seeing him leave. 

He turned around, raising an eyebrow, clenching his jaw, observing you. He came back and sat down, cupping your cheek. “You’re forgiven, love.”

He picked up his fork again. “I need you to cum, Vixen. Stop toying with it.” He said, using his spare hand to guide the hand between your thighs. 

You whimpered. “Daddy.”

He kept eating, unbothered. “Yes, babylove?”

“I want you inside.”

“Then make yourself cum, so I can finish the cake and fuck you against the wall, baby fox.”

Your hand stilled. “Against the wall?”

“I promised you I would.” He replied.

You made a small “o” with your lips, which soon turned into a smug grin as you began to move your hand in earnest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you, before eating a smaller bite of cake. He was temporizing. 

“Daddy.” This time you moaned. 

“What is it, little one?”

“Can you please kiss me, daddy?” You pleaded. 

He smiled at you kind and gentle. “With pleasure, baby.” He gave you a taste of his lips, kissing your lower one, the corner of your mouth. 

And then you felt it, the intrusion of his fingers inside you. 

You whined out loud, mouth opening wide, and smartly he covered your mouth with his, his tongue tangling with yours in a drooly mess. 

Parting from you, he whispered: “Don’t worry, it’s my clean hand.” He reassured you, kissing where your jaw met your neck, under your ear. 

“I love you, Joonie.” You whispered as you slowly climbed to your climax, trying to ride his fingers.

Using his spare hand to hold your face, dwarfing your head, he looked you in the eye, staring half worried, half turned on at your helpless expression. “Relax, baby. You’re safe with me.”

His deep voice, the sweet comfort of his words helped you take the final leap off the edge, precipitating into the dark spiral of your orgasm. 

You came silently while his forearm blocked you from buckling your hips wildly and throwing the cake off yourself. You moved your hand away as he kept massaging your inner walls, stretching you properly to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you later. “Tell me when it’s too much, ____.” He reminded you.

You enjoyed it another five seconds or so before caressing his face. “Okay, Joonie.”

He nodded, taking his fingers away from you and immediately pushing them in his mouth, moaning with his eyes closed. “The fucking sweetest.” He growled with affection as he freed his fingers. Sitting on the table beside you, he caught hold of the plastic disk, lifting the cake from your belly, moving his other hand behind your shoulders to raise you up. 

“Come here, Vixen. My sweet angel.” He propped you up on his shoulder as he found the fork. With his arm around you, he fed you the remnant quarter of the cake. “You need your energies, babylove.” He kissed your temple as he fed you. “You’re amazing, princess.” He praised you. He had always had a kink for praising you after sex. Well, after any sexual activity. “Are you okay, Vixen?” He murmured, putting the dish on the table before holding you close to him, careful not to smash the chocolate work of art — or what was left of it.

You nodded. “I’m just a bit fucked out.” You giggled. 

“Do you want a shower and sleep?” He asked. Sure, he was hard as hell, but that was not the point. 

“I want you against the wall.” You murmured. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how buff you’ve been getting, mister.” You teased, asking yourself whether you had any sense of self preservation, considering that you were still fucked out but you were already searching for more. 

He laughed. “You’ve noticed?”

You nodded. “Have you been doing that to fuck me against the wall?” You asked. 

“For that reason too.” He admitted. “I love feeling healthy. And being strong enough to take care of my baby is most definitely another pro of this situation.” Once more he took hold of the plate, feeding you again. “You mentioned you were interested.” He whispered quietly. “I wanted to give it to you.”

You looked at him wide eyed. “Well, of course it’s a fantasy, but you don't have to make it happen.”

He bit his lip, insecure. Maybe you didn’t want it anymore. He frowned. “But I wanted to.” he objected. 

It was your turn to caress his face, stealing the fork from his hand, taking half of the last bite for yourself, his gaze focused on your sinful mouth. As you swallowed, you took the last piece and brought it to his lips. He ate. “I love you, Namjoon. And if getting buff is your goal I’ll stand by it and root for you.” You encouraged. “But don’t you ever feel like you have to get thicker to keep me interested in you. Or to make me attracted by you.” You removed the fork and the cake from your action zone, then, with a motion of your foot, you made him slide off the table and stand at the edge of it. 

You noticed with immense pleasure that his trousers were significantly strained. You straddled his hips. 

“I’m attracted by what’s in here.” You said, your polished nail tapping against his temple. “And here.” You said, dragging your fingernail against his sternum. “The package is cute, sure, but it’s not what I feel in the dark, when I tell you I love you before I fall asleep.” You murmured, your voice getting emotional. “I’m so in love with you.” You said, grabbing his face and kissing him. He tried to bring you closer. 

“Off with the shirt. Chocolate stains.” You explained, gripping and tugging at the dark cotton of his black tee. 

His hands helped you, then flew to your hair, bringing you closer, chest to chest. 

“The zipper, baby, please.” He groaned, almost pained. 

You nodded, kissing him again, your “sorry love” getting lost on your mouths. As you undid his belt you felt your hands tremble nervously, just like the first time. 

“Baby, please.” He whined again. 

“I can’t, love.” You growled, frustrated, shoving your hands away. 

He chuckled. "Baby's impatient. God, your hands shake every time, ____." He undid his belt and slapped your hands away as you tried to take over with the zipper. "How many times, Vixen? In the last ten months you've seen my cock more than I have." He teased as he undressed before you. 

"Joonie. Naked. Now." You chastised. 

His chest shook with laughter. "I'm here, my love." As soon as he rose, you looped your arms around his neck, tucking your face under his chin. “Here, baby.” He murmured sweetly. “You’re so cute when you act shy.” He continued, kissing your head. 

“You’re too tall.” You whispered from his chest.

He shook his head with a snicker. “Your size kink is out of the world, babygirl, don’t pretend you don’t like how big I am.”

“I hate when you’re right.” You said, puckering your lips. 

He tilted your head back. “I love you, you dumb little fox.” He whispered playfully. 

Shutting your eyes tight, you hid in his chest even more. 

“Tell me how you want me, little vixen.” He whispered in your ear after ducking his head.

“Inside. Now.” You protested. 

He caressed your face. “Here, on the table?” He asked.

You nodded. “You can just pick me up and turn around and do me against the wall when I’m close.” You instructed. That position was tiring and troublesome, you’d better save it for when the orgasm felt close, so that the physical effort would last less.

He snickered. “Okay, your highness.” He joked at your commandeering attitude. 

“I might like that nickname.” You teased back, one of your arms untangling from his neck and reaching down, stroking his hard on and bringing the tip to your entrance. 

“I’ll save it for the next roleplay, then.” He kissed your brow. “Look at me, angel.” He whispered as you positioned him correctly. “I love you so much, ____.” He moaned as he slipped in, your hand slowly sliding down his length as he entered you, until he was fully sheathed inside you and your hand cupped his balls. 

“Joonie.” You whined. 

He shushed you with a kiss. After all these months — and pretty intense one at that —, it was still new. Your face still scrunched in that lovely way, your inner walls still hugged him like the most perfect velvet glove. “Vixen, you okay baby?”

You nodded, your mouth going a little bit everywhere, hanging open, pressed to his skin to keep yourself from screaming his name. He was still that good. Even better. He was always so tender, so delicate, his big hands touching you like you were his porcelain doll, always so gentle and careful during his first few strokes. And inside he was always so big you had to take a minute to adjust, the thickness of him giving you a mindblowing stretch. There were nights in which he gave you orgasms back to back, with his hands, with his mouth, stretching you open with his fingers and various toys, and still it felt like only he could fill you to the brim, almost to the breaking point. 

“Joonie bear,” You murmured. “Wanna take care of you.” You whimpered.

“Let’s lay you down, love.” He grumbled, bending forward as you stretched down, laying on the table, the shift making him move inside you, his tip rubbing the bottom of your inner cavity.

“Fuck, Joonie, move.” You commanded with a whine. 

He obeyed, his arms still cradling you, looped under your waist and the other around your neck. He was literally latching onto you, so close you were melting into each other. 

Your mouth searched for his neck, leaving hickies on his pectorals, toying at his nipples with your teeth and tongue. 

“Vixen, dammit, love, you’re gonna ruin me.” He growled. 

Your hands scratched down his spine, grabbing his ass, pushing him into you. “You’re gonna make me cum babe, stop it.” He fucked into you angrily and you moaned loudly into his chest. 

“Daddy, harder, please...” You whimpered.

Reading your cue — and because he knew your body better than you did — he picked you up again, turning around and getting closer to the kitchen wall. “Ready, Vixen?”

“Is it...?” You asked, so fucked out of your mind that you had barely registered the movement, your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, while his hands were now groping your ass, his face scrunched in effort, but still sporting a mischievous smile at the advantaged grip he had on your bottom.

“Yes, love.” He left a peck on your lips. “Careful, little one, it’s gonna be cold.” He said, before making your skin adhere to the chilly marble tiles.

You moaned at the shift in temperature, the coolness at your back and his warmth on your front. He took a minute to position you properly, making sure that you stayed up but also close to him. The first thrusts were tentative, slow and deep, his arms keeping you up while his hips worked on you. 

There was some cruelty in the position, you discovered, as you tried to tip your head back, moaning for him, but the wall stopped your movement. You had to settle to turning your head to the side, your muscles so feeble that it fell heavy on his shoulder. 

"Are you good, Vixen?" He asked, breathless. 

You only managed to nod as your inner walls began squeezing around him. 

Humming darkly, he latched his lips against your neck, drawing a crimson splodge before asking you: “Can you touch yourself for me, ____?” 

You silently obeyed and immediately his thrusts grew restless and deeper, almost painful with the way he was pushing your legs open. 

Naturally, both your heads bent down to look at where your bodies joined, Namjoon getting distracted by your chest, sucking on your nipples and bruising your skin in an attempt to muffle his cries. By now his forehead was sweaty, droplets rolling off his skin and onto your chest, the heaviness of them  punctuating your breath and his thrusts in an obscene pattern of beats. It was a matter of seconds: with three rubs of your clit, your kegels spasmed, making him lose his mind and push you up higher, sliding and bouncing on his lap. Like a sensual chain reaction, the new angle teased your g-spot perfectly, sending you on cloud nine, and then down, fast, to the burning pits of hell, your skin melting at the hotness of your climax. Your spare hand gripping and scratching his back recklessly was all he needed, his own release manifesting as he followed you suit in pleasure, crying out your name, trembling against your skin. 

You were holding onto each other for dear life, panting like exhausted beasts, eyes closed, lost in the sudden silence disturbed only by your breaths. 

“Namjoon.” You moaned quietly, your ears tingling with your sudden change in blood pressure.

He hid into your neck. “Love, I think we have to do it again. Not now, but sometime again.” He whispered. “You feel so tiny on me.” He kissed your cheek, your brow, your heavy lids. “I love you.” He murmured. 

You could barely nod. You were a mess. A slippery, wet mess, sweat coating your skin, cum smeared all over your thighs, Namjoon’s saliva dripping down your nipples, drying on the bruised swells of your breasts.

“I want you on the bed Joon.” You whined. “I want to lick you clean. Sixty-nine. Ride you so you can spank me and call me your little girl until I fuck you so good you forget everything but my name.” You provoked him, squeezing him a couple times. He was hard again. 

Glorious. 

His chuckles turned into a groan when you tightened around him. “Let me take you to bed, then, babygirl.” And with that he slipped out of you and gently bowed down, throwing you over his shoulder, smacking your ass as he walked to the bedroom. “Hold on tight, cause it’s gonna get wild, brat.”

⫷⁂⫸ ⁕ ⫷⁂⫸ ⁕ ⫷⁂⫸ ⁕ ⫷⁂⫸

In the apartment next door. 

Yoongi stared at his dish in absolute disgust. “We need to move away from here.”

Kitten shook her head. “Thank fuck birthdays are only once a year.”

Yoongi stared at her with a desperate look on his face. “Oh, you’re forgetting her birthday, in a few weeks, apparently. And you weren’t here their first weekend together. And what about that time, was it her promotion?”

“I will never forget her promotion.” Kitten groaned. 

“What about when he came back from LA?” Yoongi teased. 

“When all of you came back from LA.” Kitten replied, arching her eyebrows with a fake angelic smile, reminding him how he’d barely closed the apartment door before falling to his knees, tugging her panties down and out of the way, hunching up her skirt and eating her out against the entryway. “Don’t forget that you make me loud too.” She shook her head. “And you get quite messy too, mister groan.” 

He nodded. Well, having to listen to the neighbours might be an inconvenience but… 

“Are you horny too?” He asked. 

“Kitchen counter or the sofa?” She replied, standing up, already taking off her shirt, only covered in her knickers. 

He stood up, standing behind her. “Just bend over.” He said, slipping her panties to the side. 

#bts smut #bangtan smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #namjoon reaction #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine

[the-pale-goddess]

Breakfast at Tiffany’s - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

Tiffany surprises Ethan with a fancy breakfast.

It’s all cute until it turns to filth. Then it’s fluff again. Aaaaand back to slutty. A three-course, self-indulgent breakfast, if I may convey.

Rating/Category: Explicit / smut with a side of fluff

Warnings: p*rn with no plot, language

Author’s note: Coming back to my OH2 more or less canon fic business!

Here’s the smutty part of the little band aid I promised for all the harm I’ve done to you with Home With You AU. I just wanted to give you something sweet before we proceed with the emotional rollercoaster in Chapter 3...Well, I did my best, but my filthy mind would never allow me to write some pure and innocent fluff 😅 Hope it’s not too slutty for you lol You’ve been warned!

Please, forgive me the title - I just saw the opportunity and I took it lol

____

Ethan opened his eyes with a sinking feeling this Thursday would be out of the new ordinary. His bed was cold and empty. There was no cascade of black hair unwittingly waking him up with a gentle tickle on his skin, no tender caress begging him to stay in the sheets a tad longer.

Another surprise awaited when an overfamiliar appetizing smell hit his nostrils, forcing him to rush out of bed in order to investigate the unexpected scene.

The missing piece of Ethan's morning routine was dancing her way through the kitchen, wreaking sweet havoc with a pile of dirty dishes and different ingredients scattered all over the kitchen island, just to cook a tower of flawlessly fluffy pancakes – now proudly placed on display near the oven. They looked perfect, but not as perfect as Tiffany in the weak morning light; her dark wavy hair falling down on bare shoulders, in contrast to the lacy white lingerie set that flaunted all her curves. She was swinging to the tune she whistled to herself, oblivious of the lurking admirer.

„I don't think I'll ever get used to this view.” Ethan's voice got her spinning around in a flutter to face him. He was leaning against the fridge, an adoring smile playing on his lips as his eyes were roaming over her silhouette. She flushed furiously under the intensity of his gaze, trying to hide the sudden clumsiness of her movements with a sheepish beam.

„Your girlfriend cooking breakfast for you in nothing but her underwear?”

He eyed her intently, biting his bottom lip before he answered with a poker face. „My kitchen in disarray.”

Tiffany shook her head incredulously, as she strained the freshly made raspberry sauce through a sieve. „Trust me, it'll be worth it. And don't worry, I'll clean everything up later, Doctor Terminator.”

„It already is.” He pulled her body close to his, causing her back to collide with his chest. „I can't believe you're still using that nickname.”

„You have to admit it's catchy.”

„Mhm. Do you need any help?” His arm draped over her shoulder, hugging her tight.

„Sure. There's a dozen of pancakes waiting for you. Hope you're ready for a sweet death topped with whipped cream and a home-made raspberry sauce.”

„I didn't plan on falling into a food coma, but you had me at pancakes. Meaning yes, I'm ready.” The powerful combination of Ethan's soft lips and his scratchy chin glued to the sensitive skin on her neck, peppering her with featherlike kisses.

„Someone's clingy today.” She gave him a loud peck on his forearm.

„I'm starving, Tiffany.” A husky whisper rolled in her ear, the words followed by a gentle bite that sent a red-hot shiver down her spine. She chuckled to herself.

„Good! I was genuinely scared that you'd hate the idea because of your love-hate relationship with pancakes. The sauce will need a few minutes to cool down a bit, and then – Oh!” Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks when the hard evidence of Ethan's hunger pangs pressed against her butt. She dropped her jaw in surprise, slightly amused by the realization she didn't get the hint quite right – it was a different kind of appetite. She spun round to face him, the wicked smile suggested she was more than eager to play along.

„On second thought, I suppose we can have a taste of what will be served today.” Never breaking the gaze, she dipped her finger in the whipped cream and offered it to Ethan. He licked it clean, keenly watching Tiffany's face turn crimson red.

„Not bad for a mixture of fat and sugar. Though it's far from what I expected to be on the menu.” Tiffany raised her brows, fake offended, her expression elicited a hearty chuckle from Ethan.

„Well, aren't you a picky eater, Doctor Ramsey? Luckily, I came prepared.” Her finger dived into the bowl with raspberry sauce. „Try some of this.”

„Mmm, delicious.” He gushed, his tongue slithering around her finger. „But yet again...That's not what I crave the most.”

”I wonder what would that be...” She bit her lip seductively as she reached for Ethan's hand. He swallowed loud and moved a bit closer just when she slipped his thumb into her mouth. The provocative movement had his imagination run wild. „Aren't you gonna tell me?”

„Tiffany, I...” Ethan failed to articulate his thought, too absorbed in sinful visions almost melting his brain.

„Tell me what do you crave, Ethan.” She demanded and he suddenly felt even weaker. His thumb got trapped in her mouth again, her other hand massaging his inner thigh through the material of his pants.

„You.” His voice dripped with wild need.

„How do you want me?” Tiffany released the thumb with a heady pop, holding his stare the entire time.

„I want to...”

„Do you want to come in my mouth?” She used his finger to brush her bottom lip, then grazed it with her teeth mere seconds later.

„Fuck...Yes, please.” He muttered, pressing his forehead together with hers.

Smiling magnetically from ear to ear, Tiffany crashed into Ethan, kissing him hungrily with their tongues twisted together. The prelude wouldn't last long, and in a flash she moved down his body – already hot and shivering with primal need. Her lips glided over every inch of his skin, placing open-mouthed kisses along the way. Just when she was low enough, she flipped her hair and dropped on her knees, pulling his pants down with her.

Ethan could swear that the very sight of her mischievous smile dancing around his throbbing cock was enough to make him come. He shuddered in tense anticipation as he watched her tease him with graceful strokes of her tongue wandering around his abdomen.

„Could you...” A tantalizing base-to-tip lick shut him up on the spot and took his breath away. She followed the same path with a soft touch of her lips, quietly humming with relish. His hips bucked involuntarily, overpowered by the tender sensation, begging for more.

The unspoken request was yet to be fulfilled – her slim fingers began stroking him at the base, while her mouth covered the sensitive tip. He groaned in response, his body temperature rising to a dangerously high level. His hand instinctively tugged at her hair, tying any defiant locks in his handy grip.

When Tiffany slid his whole length into her luscious mouth, the divine warmth took away the last bit of control he had, and made him gasping for air. Fighting back the tears was a feeble effort with his huge member hitting her throat, but she rose to the challenge, gagging violently before she adjusted to a safe and steady rhythm.

Ethan marvelled at the view of her watery emerald eyes gazing into his blues as she sucked him like her life depended on it, her precise tongue and skillful hand working him up to a blissful fever. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure had him moan ecstatically, bringing him on the verge of madness. Encouraged by the guttural sounds reserved only for her, she quickened the pace, bobbing her head up and down. His muscles reacted in an instant, tensing even harder, demanding an immediate release. A few moments later, he reached his high and spilled inside her mouth; the obscene groan of his climax ringing in her ears like a favorite song. She took the load with a triumphant smirk, swallowing every drop.

„This is grossly unfair.” He leaned on the nearest countertop awestruck, satiated and out of breath, struggling to keep himself standing.

„What is?” She got up, climbing up his body, and bit down on his shoulder blade.

„The power you have over me.”

Tiffany grinned, pressing her cheek to his broad back as she wrapped her arms around his chest. „But you did like the first course of your breakfast, didn't you?”

„I haven't eaten anything yet.” Ethan turned around, falling into her embrace with a pointed look.

„All right, I'll fill you up with these pancakes now.” Chuckling softly, Tiffany took a step back, seemingly ready to start the day, but Ethan kept her in place by holding her wrist. A gleam of lust reappeared in his eyes as he was slowly regaining his energy.

„Pancakes can wait a little longer. Let me eat you out.”

Before she managed to form a sentence, Ethan's fingers skimmed through her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the ground. His greedy hands began exploring her body, tracing her curves, only to slide his fingers behind her panties and pull them off, so they would share the fate of the bra.

„You know that I've never really understood the purpose of art, but looking at this absolute masterpiece right in front of me?” Tiffany raised her brows in surprise, returning his worshipful gaze. „I think I might modify my stance.”

„Wait, is that an actual compliment, or you're quoting some lines from the poetry book you'll soon be releasing?” They both snorted with laughter that quickly died when their lips fused in the hastiest, sloppiest kiss.

„I'll let you win this one, you deserve it.”

„Oh, what a lucky day!” She chirped in sarcastic tone. Ethan shook his head and lunged for her neck, sucking at her skin.

When his lips abruptly broke away from her, she yelped in protest, but little did she know what Ethan had in store for her. The burning desire in his eyes instantly set her body ablaze. He turned her around, brushing her messy hair away from her back, and began kissing her along the spine, inch by inch, moving excruciatingly slow. His beard rough against her silky flesh, scratching her pleasantly. She closed her eyes, relishing the delight of Ethan's touch. Suddenly, a piercing smack flew across her butt.

She jumped, flabbergasted, as her blood boiled with excitement. „Ethan Jonah Ramsey!”

„You liked that, didn't you?” He let out a supremely confident laugh and spanked her again.

„I plead the Fifth.” She giggled, biting her lip. His hands squeezed her bum and lifted her up. A moment later she lay flat on the kitchen island, legs spread wide and waiting.

Ethan wasted no time – his lips continued the journey across Tiffany's aching body, nuzzling her hips, kissing her thighs, licking her belly, sucking on her breasts. They were everywhere, except where she needed him most. He noticed how hopelessly she tried to catch his attention with the suggestive movement of her hips, but he decided to torture her for his own enjoyment, savoring the exquisite scent and taste of this very special meal.

Her impatience eventually rubbed off on him. At last, he nestled comfortably between her legs, and sunk his tongue directly into her soaked folds. She didn't even make an effort to tone her moans down and Ethan was quite grateful for that. His tongue worked its magic, lashing at her clit, knowing exactly where to suck to bring her over the edge. Her hips rolled to the rhythm of Ethan's licking, begging for more friction. He immediately read the sign, inviting his fingers to join the fun. He rubbed her expertly, all the while licking her swollen clit. She was so close, already sweaty and shivering, with hands on both sides of the countertop, her knuckles white from all the force she had to use to keep herself from falling down.

When Ethan kept his pace up, she knew he was going for the last bite. In the blink of an eye, she arched her back, coming hard as the outpouring of bliss washed over her. She fought for her breath, lying still with her eyes closed and mouth open.

„Don't get too comfortable there, Rookie, I'm not done with you.” She could feel him smirking against her skin when his lips moved down her trembling leg.

„Is it because last night I fell asleep during your precious documentary and we missed our daily dose of inappropriate snuggles?” Tiffany cracked up and Ethan soon followed.

„Yes and no.” He leaned his chin on her knee, meeting her gaze. „I know how much you hate both cooking and waking up early. This is the least I could do to make this morning more tolerable for you.”

„Keep spoiling me like that and I will literally melt.” A beam of unfiltered happiness spread over her face, her eyes filled with utmost adoration. „Besides, just to clarify: I hate cooking, but I enjoy doing it for you.”

An intimate silence washed over them as they stared at each other, basking in the glorious feeling of these small gestures of affection. Ethan shook his head in wonder, his mind racing. He wanted to tell her. He was certain she knew that already, probably even long before he had realized the nature of his feelings...And yet, his words failed him, offering a blank space instead of a proper way to name the drums echoing in his heart at the very thought of Tiffany. He quickly gathered himself, stood straight and cleared his throat.

„Enough chit-chat, we're on a very tight schedule. Stand up.” With a little help from Ethan, Tiffany jumped off the countertop and hooked her arms around his neck.

„Oh, I'll show you tight, sir.” She avowed with a devilish grin.

„God, you're impossible.” Ethan heaved a long sigh in response, right before their lips melted into a deep, fervent kiss.

Cutting to the chase, Tiffany turned her back to Ethan, colliding with his body. Without any hesitation, he entered her with a hefty push, filling her up in a way she'd never experienced before. She was perfectly accustomed to his size, but the standing position was brand new to them. She didn't expect that a slightly different angle could leave an all-consuming, almost agonizing feeling of fullness before he even began pounding her. A series of vehement whimpers escaped her mouth without her permission. Her chest heaved as she struggled to control her breathing. If it wasn't for his firm grip, her legs would surely give up.

Ethan immediately noticed the unconcealable shift in her demeanor. He cupped her cheek, slowly pulling out of her.

„Baby, is everything all right?” He whispered, his voice full of concern. „Do you want me to stop?”

She instinctively grabbed his hand and locked her body on him in a desperate cry, every word a torture. „I want you inside.”

He nodded, relieved, pulling her as close as it was humanly possible. Her head lolled back, resting comfortably on Ethan so they could still glance at one another. They exchanged a blithe smile, reflecting the dizzying sensation of each other's presence. His lips brushed her forehead in a sweet kiss just as he began moving inside of her.

He started off slow, pulling in and out as gently as he could, keeping her steady in his protective arms. Her previous remark proved to be right – she was insanely tight and dripping wet, her scent and unrestrained moans only adding to his arousal. He knew he wouldn't last long.

„Harder, please.” She whimpered, tightening her clutch on his arms. He willingly complied, deepening his thrusts, setting a merciless pace. The sound of slapping flesh punctuated by their heavy breathing and pleasure vocalized in the most indecent way.

Everything was Ethan – he invaded all her senses, emptying her mind, leaving nothing but his name. Tiffany could feel the thunder in his heart pounding on her back; his hands were mindlessly roaming over her curves as she remained trapped in his strong embrace. His fingers snuck to her clit, rubbing her with expert precision while his cock kept on ravishing her. She was mere seconds away from another orgasm, unable to communicate in any form other than shameless moaning.

Ethan was right behind her, chasing the finish line. His deafening groans got more desperate, thrusts slower and rigid, his fingers pleasuring her frantically, until they both cried out in unison – their bodies twisted in overwhelming ecstasy.

Tiffany toppled over the countertop, breathless – her blazing flesh took comfort in the cold of the marble, with fingers skimming blindly across its surface in a desperate attempt at keeping herself steady. She had no time to recover, as Ethan's body clutched at her tight, his burning skin clamping around hers. His ragged breath hovered over her ear, just as his hand dived into the damp mess of her hair, pulling her locks aside to gently suck on her neck.

„Oh, God...We should...” She panted with her eyes closed, tilting her head to give him more access.

„Mhm.” He hummed with approval, tracing scratchy kisses across her shoulder. „I know.”

Instead of acting on the incoherent thought, he turned her around, crashing into her lips without any warning. They kissed slowly for a long minute before Tiffany retreated, gazing into the endless ocean of his eyes. A cheeky smirk flew across her face.

„You called me baby.”

Ethan stared at her perplexed, his brows frowned. „No, erm...I didn't?”

„You totally just did.” Tiffany's laughter filled the room, the sound shook him to the core, along with the realization the pet name might have accidentally slipped through.

„No, you probably misheard that.” He stuttered an evasive reply, that earned a well-deserved scoff.

„Don't try to deny that you called me baby for the first time, and it happened – let me stress that – during sex.”

„Stop it. Let's not make a big deal out of this. We still need to get to work.” Ethan countered, hoping that the final argument was meaningful enough to end the cross-examination.

„That's a very convenient excuse, Mr I'll Casually Avoid Any Uncomfortable Topic. You're right, though. We should hurry up with the proper breakfast. But let's take a quick shower first.”

„Together?” He cocked his brows, sceptical about the idea.

„Yeah, why not?” Her index finger twirled around his nipple.

„We're already running out of time, we can't afford the further delay.”

„I thought you like a challenge, baby.” She pressed a wet kiss on his chest and broke the embrace. Ethan watched her walk off towards the bathroom with a tantalizing sway of her hips. He took a sharp breath, his eyes followed her every move, scanning her naked form up and down. When she reached the bathroom door, she shot him a sultry wink and disappeared behind the door. He shook his head, transfixed and defeated, muttering to himself.

„We're going to be late then.”

___

Sorry if there are any typos or mistakes, this B is too tired to double-check lol

___

Taglist: I’ll post it separately in a reblog because [tumblr] is being a brat

#ethan x mc #open heart #ethan ramsey #my fanfic writing #ethan ramsey x mc #sorry not sorry

[uwua3]

Hello! I'm a new follower and I just love your writing so far!! You're really good at depicting The Whole Scene™ so you made me love my favs even more 😳 It's like my heart melts when I get to the extra soft parts 💖 If it's alright, may I request some fluffy hcs of Banri and/or Juza with a soft/baby-ish s/o who likes cute things? Or in general an s/o who's kind of opposite to either of them 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you! 💞

hi!!! welcome to my writing blog~ :D i’m so happy you said that 🥺 (i appreciate the trademark no Suing in this household) i’m so glad when it gets soft it makes your heart go 💕💞💓💗💖💘💝 always feel like that!!! i’d be more than honored to baby the two tough boys of autumn~ they are secretly Baby no i do not take criticism but you’re welcome!!!

summary: this is the one time major misunderstandings work out for the best

warnings: swearing

author’s note: hello, everyone~ it’s been 4 days since i last posted a fic TT i’m so sorry!!! i hope this makes up for the absence~ it’s a bit long! please love banri and juza with all your heart ♡ fair warning, i design both readers to have dresses on but everything else is gender–neutral :D

word count: 6,482 (total) — 3,532 (banri), 2,950 (juza)

music: liar liar – oh my girl (banri), just right – got7 (juza)

sugar, spice, and everything nice!

🍁🥇 settsu banri

banri was thrifting and saw the most god–awful, terrible piece of clothing he had ever had the misfortune of seeing in his life

it was a bublegum pink sailor uniform esque shirt, embellished with the most pastel ribbons and lacy accessories ever, and was decorated to put harajuku to shame

“who the hell would want to buy this shit?” banri muttered to himself, holding it up to grimance at the girly details that hang from the ugliest shirt he had ever came across. before he could put it back to hide amongst the clothing rack, a gentle, barely noticeable tap on his shoulder made banri turn his head with a glare

“what—” banri’s eyes widened, his jaw slightly dropping. oh my god, if there was a human embodiment of the fucking shirt he was holding, you would literally be it

you were nervously smiling at him, clad in a pastel pink lolita–styled dress, with even more bows at the corset bodice and ruffles at your poofy skirt. you had the largest singular lace bonnet in your curled hair and adorned the biggest, widest circular glasses (they had to be fake). you clasped your hands together with a high–pitched laugh, banri wanted to disappear and never come back to the store again

how could people like you just exist? you walked around like a doll everyday and for what? banri looked down at his clothing for a second, all black again. maybe, he shouldn’t be talking if he was like death everyday...

“sorry~ but are you interested in that shirt?” you asked cutely, batting your eyelashes as you looked up at banri. he blinked, not realizing he was still holding the fashion industry’s worst abonimation as he quickly tossed it towards you, not bothering to check if you even caught it

“no, bye.” banri forced out, moving from the aisle to leave the godforsaken pastels and bright colors. it was all giving him a headache, there was no way this color spectrum ever existed to someone and they liked it. everybody move over because banri was gonna puke

banri flipped through more clothes, pushing through the racks with ease, trying to push the mental image of pink out of his mind until something landed on his head

quickly pulling it off with a scowl, banri deadpanned at the shirt. pink, sailor uniform, ugly ribbons and bows, check. it was that shirt again... what the—

you stood next to him, with the most angelic smile possible despite the passive aggressive look in your eyes. banri noticed your hair was slightly messed up, that he must’ve done something. he never thought he’d fight a pastel lolita in the middle of one of his favorite thrift stores, but here he was, glaring down at you like it was a big deal

“what do you want?!” banri cursed, about to throw the shirt back to you before you forced it in his hands, surprising him with the amount of force your short self managed to produce. you smiled even bigger, and banri suddenly knew he couldn’t cause a scene because no one believe him if you started a fight

“let me pick your clothes!” you offered, yet there was no room for disagreement. oh god, this was revenge for screwing up your look, wasn’t it? banri blanked again, about to tell you to fuck off before he called security (yeah, security on the most non–threatening person here), before you shoved another outfit into his arms

“go change! i want to see you in it!” you insisted, banri’s eye twitched as he took in the colors. all various shades of pink... you did know there were other colors right?

maybe it was because he knew you would start a scene if he didn’t try, but banri mumbled something about annoying people and their loud fashion sense before slipping into a dressing room. you clapped when banri begrudgingly agreed to it, pissing him off even more

(you didn’t know why you were forcing this stranger to be pastel for once. one look at his all–black attire and you felt a part of your soul die for a second)

when you heard the most dragged–out, emphasized swear behind the door, you knew you had to see it

“are you okay in there~?” you asked, waiting patiently outside with a devious smile. revenge was sweet, you almost forgot about how that shirt had messed up your hairstyle for the day

(banri suddenly regretted ever messing with you, you were the devil in pink)

“i know we just met, but fuck you.” banri deadpanned, stepping out from behind the curtain with the resignation of a quitter. you threw your hands over your mouth, stifling your snickers as you observed him top to bottom, wondering how you even fathomed such a creation

banri stood before you in the same sailor shirt, ribbons and bows alike, that somehow fit him. you had given him basic pink shorts that clased with his giant black boots (he made a stomping sound whenever he walked)

“i hate this, i am never wearing this again.” banri admitted without difficulty, expecting you to go away so he could shop in peace but you giggled, nodding in satisfaction at your mistake. he couldn’t believe it, he was embarrassing himself and sacrificing his dignity just because some moral conscious was aware he probably ruined part of your fit

“i’ll buy it for you!” you said and banri pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with so much exhaustion even though it was the afternoon. is this how sakyo felt dealing with three kids all day? banri was this close to calling him up just to apologize for all the batshit crazy things he’s done

“no.” banri stated, not offering an explanation before turning around, about to head back into the dressing room before you stopped him, pouting your lips with a stubborn look

“come on! why not? i’ll do anything!” you pleaded, giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes as you kept repeating “please~” loudly. banri was about to tell you off before he noticed the store customers glancing at the odd duo, groaning before he rubbed his face

“anything?” banri asked, realizing his mischevious smirk was back on his face as you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering what the hell he was planning

when you hesitantly nodded, banri wolfishly grinned as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms and looking down at you (you would’ve burst into laughter at how banri tried to look intimidating in pink if you weren’t too plagued by your surprise at his sudden attitude change)

“okay, let me pick your next outfit.” banri said and you winced at the memory of his previous outfit, considering your options before shaking his hand, knowing whatever was about to happen would be one for your social media

it only took about two hours before you actually agreed to try anything on banri picked. it was all animal print, mismatched neon colors, and flannel. you refused every single time he held anything up, bruising banri’s ego even further

“jesus, you have no taste.” banri complained, just wanting to see the most pastel person he’s seen wear something normal for once. you two bickered easily, fighting like there was no tomorrow and warranting nervous glances from the store employees (who nearly alerted security when they saw you almost knock over a whole display chasing after banri)

finally, banri chose something you wouldn’t be caught dead in. it was close to what he had before, a black turtleneck with a silver–zip bomber jacket. he was nice enough to choose a black pleated skirt for you to wear with black oxford that had 3d white daisies

you actually liked it, believe it or not

in return, you adjusted your pick for him (much to banri’s relief when he muttered “thank god” as you put the pink sailor shirt back). you adjusted the theme to be a mixture of black & pink, picking a pink sweater with a black stitched heart surrounded by lace that read “i’ll kill you” and a pink button down underneath. you let him wear basic black pants (just so he wouldn’t have actually killed you) and found the cutest pink sneakers with black shoelaces!

by the time both of you finished, banri didn’t seem as mad and actually nodded at your choices

“not bad, punk.” banri joked as you swatted at his arm, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes at your antics. you two made your way into opposite changing rooms and went out at the same time, staring at each other wide–eyed for about three seconds before banri pushed his finger in the center of your forehead with a smirk

“see! you don’t look as bad now.” banri winked as you nearly kicked him, rubbing your forehead with a frown. you two fought all the way to the cash register, paying for each other’s new outfits as you wore them out the door, holding your originals in a bag

“happy now? gotta go or else my friends are gonna kill me.” banri rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pant pockets as he was about to go the opposite way. you grabbed his sleeve, impatiently shoving your phone in his face as he adjusted to seeing his own pissed off expression stare back at him

“you have to take a picture with me!” you insisted, your bubbly demeanor really not fitting your “goth” approach (courtesy of banri, of course)

banri glared, knowing this wasn’t apart of the deal before you feigned sadness, wrapping your arms around yourself as you looked around like it was really unfortunate

“oh... are you not photogenic? that’s too bad...” you mocked him, pretending to not notice banri’s fists clench as he furrowed his eyebrows. of course he was good at taking photos! he’d show you, alright

“give me your phone.” banri demanded, taking it without a warning and holding it at a distance with an effortlessly cool pose, doing his usual smirk with a casual peace sign

“say ‘worst day ever’.” banri snapped the picture when you got into frame, putting your chin on his shoulder due to your height difference as you smiled cutely, contrasting his entire vibe

when you actually went through the selfies, they were perfect. damn it! of course he was good at everything, including somehow making black look good on you and be the ultimate photographer

“let me tag you, these are actually...” you were about to say something else until you noticed he was walking away, not bothering to say goodbye as you called his name

“yo, banri! what’s your instagram handle?” you yelled, holding your phone up. banri didn’t even look behind him, just throwing up a single middle finger towards you as he turned the corner. what a typical teenage boy

it was so like him, you didn’t even bother chasing after banri as you posted the set of photos you took with him with the caption “worst day ever with this emo punk, someone find him for me”

when banri made it the dorms, he took out his phone for the first time in forever and felt the vibrations. he never got this many notifications, itaru was probably telling him to get online or he’d beat his ass—oh

oh, you didn’t

kazunari (of course it was him) had tagged him in a familiar picture, with too many emoticons and exclamation points to begin with. banri scrolled through the comments, all complimenting his cool face despite being in pink (banri already knew that) and... wait... shipping you two?!

you two were completely different! if you two stood next to each other, you’d be two opposite ends of any spectrum possible. yet, banri couldn’t help but read all the comments on your post, saying how you two looked good together

banri zoomed in on the photo and moved to your face and huh... maybe they were onto something...

banri clicked on your profile and as expected, it was all soft like sanrio personally made it. you were an angel in each of your pictures, posing with stuffed animals, pastel café sweets, and anything that looked like it came out of a kid’s show. banri was scrolling mindlessly, screenshotting some as he slouched on the sofa, exhaling sharply through his nose at some childish pun you had in your captions

when banri was near the beginning of your feed, it had happened. he accidentally tapped too fast (blame it on his gamer hands), liking your picture from years ago

banri paused. after a minute, banri slowly unliked your picture, shut the app, and threw his phone across the room. it landed on the other couch with a thump as banri slid down the seat with the loudest groan ever, covering his face as he refrained from screaming

that’s what he got for stalking your entire fashion page despite hating your style

the damage had been done. you followed him and instantly dm–ed him with the full, unedited selfies of you two

(banri didn’t follow back until like, a month later for no reason other than he was petty)

banri became your immediate go–to fashion guru, believe it or not. moving past his horrific sense of animal print, he actually wasn’t that bad at picking clothes (banri said it was something about growing up with an older sister)

whenever you needed advice on an outfit, you sent him a text and got a response within minutes (the more he hated it, the more you wore it). any time you went to another up and coming clothing store, he was by your side (unwillingly holding your bags with multiple threats). banri even took your pics for your page, pretending like it was a huge nuisance whenever you asked anyone to take a photo (they always came out awful and he claimed he was tired of hearing you whine 24/7)

you and banri’s interest in fashion was the foundation of a competitive and sarcastic friendship that formed between you two. you exaggerated your pink clothes by making sure to be as pastel as possible whenever you hung out with him, and banri made a point to be all–black and dark down to his silver earrings despite the weather

you posted him more and more on your socials despite his style clashing with your feed. your followers seemed to love him, hyping up his coolness even if you two bullied each other in the comments like an old married couple. it was becoming expected to see banri’s account tagged every time you gave him credit for the post (he always used it against you just to make you mad)

over time, when banri went to see you, he didn’t insult your style anymore even if he tried to (his insults were even half–assed). he took your bags on his own accord and acted like they didn’t weigh a thing. he started taking more photos of you on his own phone, like it wasn’t a big deal he had shocks of pastel throughout his rather dark camera roll

banri didn’t know when it happened, but the moment he looked at the pink sweater you bought him the first time he met you and didn’t react, he knew

oh shit, he didn’t hate pink (or you) anymore. he might have even... liked it

(he might have even liked you)

it was nearly closing time, the employee about to close up shop before banri was seen sprinting towards them, barely out of breath as he skidded to a stop near the concerned worker (understandably so, since it was dark and a whole teenager nearly trampled them)

“oh? banri? what are you doing so late?” the employee recognized the regular customer and banri almost threw up at what he was about to request. he took a moment to compose himself before banri sighed, gesturing towards inside the store

“you remember that really ugly pink sailor shirt that is probably a fashion crime?” banri asked and it didn’t take long before the worker nodded, even grimancing at the memory of such a loud shirt

“yes, no one is really willing to buy it—” the employee was interrupted by a wad of money from inside banri’s wallet as he went through it, wincing at his own purchase that he clearly didn’t want

“i’ll take it. keep the change.” banri went home that day with the same pink shirt he swore he would never wear again

the next day, banri was dressed and the whole dorm went silent. no one dared breathe a word, and banri rolled his eyes, crossing his arms

“what’s wrong? never seen a man wear pink before?” banri raised his eyebrows, casually getting ready to go see you with his backpack strapped. once again, everyone was staring at him (when he left the dorms, the room burst into hysterical laughter)

when you saw banri in that shirt, you suddenly knew. it was as if his behavior made sense, this is way of telling you he didn’t hate you as much as he acted to

as he came up to you pretending like he was still cool in the most pastel pink shirt ever, you couldn’t help but grab him by the sailor collar and give him something long overdue

(the whole mankai company spammed your page with fairy cyberbully comments and likes when you posted a picture of banri in the sailor shirt with the caption: “best boyfriend ever”)

(you ended up keeping the sailor shirt, banri claimed it suited you a lot more than it did for him) (damn, not even one insult about how ugly it was when you expressed how much you loved it)

ever since, your feed became more of punk pastel than anything. anything you wore, banri most likely had in black. you two even shared jewelery and banri often mixed up your earrings with his own (you loved his piercings and often bought the most intricate ear cuffs just to see them on him)

despite your opposite styles, you guys actually shared many of your items together like clothes, accessories like bucket hats and backpacks, even make up! (it took quite some time before banri accepted you painting his nails though, at first it was black, now he allows the occassional pink middle finger if you ask)

(banri liked it the most when you two had matching nails, it was just satisfying to see when holding hands)

you guys were also that gamer couple. you know what i’m talking about, if you guys had a gaming room together, half the room would be pastel pink and his set up was a basic all black

(you two had matching cat headphone sets, yours obviously the pink ones and banri pretended to hate his own pair of ears)

(they really weren’t that bad, he even began wearing it around his boys despite the jokes)

(“shut up, bastard! my partner likes them!”)

as expected, you two got stares every time you went out in public. while you were bright and happy from the anime sparkles around you to your adorable, enthusiatic energy, banri was always by you looming over everyone with a sharp glare and even more aggressive tongue

but this was unexpected: you had banri whipped. wrapped around your finger, even if he would never admit it

(he could go one moment cursing someone out, threatening a fight before he talked to you with a quieter, more relaxed tone. of course he could start shit with you, but for some reason, his voice and demeanor automatically became nicer when he saw you)

(this meant he could never stay mad at you for too long)

an example of banri being absolutely soft for you would be the time you were about to dye your hair and he wanted in

while he was helping you equally do the style and making sure it fit your liking, you giggled at the sight of your boyfriend in the mirror, focusing intently on your hair and the two seperate dyes

“ri, have you ever thought of black hair?” you asked nonchalantly as banri brushed the dye on your hair, giving him a moment to think as he shrugged

“eh, i already dye my hair. never thought about that color.” banri responded, already too busy making sure your hair was completely covered (he was a good hair stylist even if he had never done it before)

“what do you think about matching hairstyles?”

it felt like deja vu. when banri walked into the dorms again, everyone was staring at him. except this time, it wasn’t his sweater (he was back to all–black this time), but his head

oh my god, his hair. his vibrant, half–pink and half–black hair now

“you like that person so much! you dyed your hair that shade of pink?!” practically everyone in mankai was aware banri was whipped for his one and only angel, even if it looked like he came out of hell himself just to be with you

whenever banri saw pink now, he didn’t hate it anymore, and he especially didn’t hate you

🍁🍰 hyodo juza

when juza saw you, he felt like he was on a sugar rush from how cute you were

it was another day helping the director with her grocery shopping and an extra amount of time allowed the two to visit the new bakery that opened downtown

while izumi was making small talk with the server, juza awkwardly hung behind her as he tried to not make it obvious he just wanted to eat every single dessert in the family business

as he was counting the tiles on the floor (how did they design them to look like it was made out of candy?!), a swish of a puffy skirt moved past his line of sight as juza glanced up, feeling like he had downed a whole box of those valentine’s candy hearts at once

you were a waitress, happily bringing customer orders to their tables with the cutest smile ever. you wore a mint green & brown uniform with a big bow at your dress shirt collar, floating around like a fairy with a trey at your hand and gracefully taking requests in the other. if “you are what you eat” was true, you would’ve only ate sweet foods because you were that adorable

then, juza noticed you had some really nice hair clips and thought they were super cute

when you looked up from writing something on your notepad (he noticed it was really elegant cursive), you caught his eye and it was like love at first sight for juza

for you, not so much

you had made eye contact with the most intimidating, tallest boy in the entire bakery. you nervously smiled, waving before hurrying into the kitchen, feeling his stare on your back as you hid in the break room with a sigh of relief

just your luck! you had met some guy who probably didn’t even like sweets, he looked like he wanted to fight you or something! why was he staring at you like that? you anxiously peeked your head from the door frame and went back immediately when you noticed he was looking for you

oh no, was some thug trying to fight you? in a bakery?

when izumi finished up her conversation and bought a speciality cake to go, juza obediently followed her outside as he glanced back behind the counter, trying to spot your unique hair accessories again

as the bell above his head rung, he knew he had to come back to see you and find out where you bought those dessert–themed clips

at first, it began with casual visits, pretending to survey the area after explaining his association with mankai in the most bare minimum way possible. you didn’t struggle convincing someone else to cover your shift quickly when you noticed the scary tall guy up front. then, it became ordering random things to go and hoping he’d at least see you to ask a simple question. you did everything to hide behind tables, hoping you wouldn’t have to confront the gangster

(“he’s back again?! how many more desserts can he order?” you whined, poking your eyes over the front desk to see his frame entering past the window)

for some reason, juza couldn’t stop thinking of your hair clips. they were sweets, for goodness sake! nothing had made him happier, they were so tiny and adorable, they brought him instant serotonin even if he had some tough image

(maybe you were also super cute too, and he just needed an excuse to see you)

after weeks or so of failed attempts to catch you working, juza began sitting down and eating in the bakery, much to your misfortune

“how can i avoid him now if he spends a hour here every afternoon?!” you panicked even though juza’s back was turned to you. he happily ate his food, getting distracted by the quality of the sweets to notice you were basically staring at him

“are you sure he wants something from you? he comes here every day, he seems like a nice boy.” the owner vouched in his favor after talking to the offstandish teen at the register. sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but he was much more respectful than any of the rotten kids who came in the shop!

ugh! the baker didn’t get it, there was no way someone like that didn’t want to start something with you!

out in the dining area, it took all the sugar in his body to actually make juza ask for a very specific server in detail. when someone had brought him his strawberry milk, juza cleared his throat with an awkward attempt at a smile (it looked more like a grimance than anything)

“uh... do you know if, a server with candy hair pins is here?” juza murmured, looking down at the table with an embarrassed blush as the waiter didn’t think anything of it, calling your name without another warning. you squeaked, dropping behind the counter as juza tilted his head in confusion

(why were you hiding? was there something wrong? what happened? juza thought, unaware he was actually the problem)

when you heard a series of footsteps stop near you, you hesitantly looked up from your crouching position and saw juza staring down at you with a concerned expression. his eyebrows were furrowed and he had his hand out

you took his hand and closed your eyes, fearing for your life. was he gonna yank you to your feet? push you over? trip you so you’d fall for real? you weren’t ready for a fight!

yet, none of that happened. juza gently lifted you up and made sure you were fine by observing your outfit to see if anything was wrinkled, muttering something about being careful and staying safe

you blinked, trying to process how incredibly wrong you were. juza was perhaps the nicest customer you had met in your entire career as a server, even taking the time to actually confirm you were okay with no ill intentions whatsoever

(suddenly, you remembered all the times you actively avoided juza and felt the guilt as he nodded at you, unintentionally lowering his height so he’d seem more approachable)

“sorry to bother you, but uh...” juza trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. before you could respond, his hand landed on your hair and a beat of silence passed between you two

“cute.” juza forced out, and wanted to slap himself. cute?! no, say cute hair clips, ask where you got them! juza was internally panicking and you were doing the same as you looked up at him with wide eyes

it was so awkward and humiliating, juza couldn’t pull his hand away because his whole body was on shutdown. oh god, what could he do now? this was possibly the worst first impression in human history

“i’m cute?” you warily asked, staring at him with a slightly amused expression as juza blanked. you felt his hand subtly shake as it was your turn to be concerned over how red his face was

“no—i mean, yes, but, not like that! i mean...” juza finally lifted his fingers to poke at your hair decorations and you let out a sound of understanding, pointing at your own clips

“oh? you mean these?” you asked and juza nodded, like he was extremely thankful you understood him. he pushed his hands behind his back, nervously leaning back and forth on his feet as he looked away like the cupcake display was the most interesting thing in the world (it probably was)

“where did you, uh, get them?” juza quietly questioned and you giggled, patting them proudly as you stood a little bit taller from the unintentional praise

“i made them! thank you for asking!” you smiled, about to move away before juza accidentally held onto your arm, releasing his hold when he saw your shock. he definitely needed to learn how to be more socially acceptable one of these days or else he was gonna get in big trouble

“can i commission you?” juza muttered and there began your friendship with the big tough delinquent juza who really adored small, cute things (like yourself!)

any time juza was particularly fascinated with a dessert on display, you would show him a sketch sample of accessories you could make based on his favorites. surprisingly, juza was very comfortable with expressing his love for sugar because you felt the same way!

every day when juza came to visit the bakery, he’d always have something new to say about your homemade accessories and seemed fascinated by your adorable fashion sense

(he had been particularly obsessed with these dangly earrings you made that looked like little dango sticks. it was like a child had been playing with your ears the entire time)

it was about a month later when you made the final designs of the hair clips juza ordered and you knew they were your best work yet

you had multiple favorite desserts and fruits of his molded in clay or shaped in resin on a various sizes of clips and pins. you decorated them with the sole goal in mind to see how pretty they would look against juza’s dark purple hair

this would be the first time you two met out of the bakery, so when juza came and saw you didn’t look any different (hair accessories and all), he thought you were so sweet

juza’s entire face practically lit up when you presented him the clips. foods like ice creams, lollipops, and popsicles were all accessible for him as he struggled to find the words to show his appreciation for your work

you two sat on a bench in the park as juza gently took the clips, turning them carefully (you looked down and almost laughed at how tiny they looked in his hands)

when you asked for a model picture for your business page, juza’s shaky hands were clearly untrained in the art of hair clips as he put one in an awkward position and tried to look up to see what it looked like

“uh... i’m not very good at this.” juza admitted, embarrassed as he stared at his feet. it didn’t take you long to take over, moving closer to giddily pin juza’s hair back

(it was soft, you were almost jealous of how everything about him was the embodiment of “gentle giant”)

“it’s okay! here, let me.” you insisted and juza gratefully passed you your work, staring at everything but you as his cheeks became even redder. you were so close and leaning over him, trying to put them in cute positions as your fingers ran through his hair

(juza felt like the first time he saw you; like he was on a sugar rush as he noticed how nimble your fingers were on him)

when you were done and leaned back with admiration, juza looked at you with a small smile as he reached up to touch the designs you put in his hair, feeling the handmade pins against his calloused fingers

“cute~” you lifted your phone up, about to take a picture. juza didn’t know why, but he covered the camera with his palm as he lowered it, looking at you with the same focus he had everytime he saw you

“you’re cute.” juza froze. oh gosh, did he actually just confess that?! you were surprised, feeling his hand over yours. yet, you didn’t want to pull away. in fact, you wish your phone was out of the way so you could completely hold his hand

“you’re cute, too.” you responded, using your other hand to brush the loose strands of hair back from his face as you smiled

when juza came back to the dorms with the cutest, most pastel, childish hair clips, no one had time to say a word as he ran to his room and threw himself onto his bed. juza rolled onto his back, placing both his hands on his hair and putting them in front of his face as if he couldn’t believe it

he just held your hand! he was your boyfriend now! you liked him even if he was the complete opposite of you! juza silently shoved his pillow over his face, kicking the air uselessly

as your boyfriend, you and juza had much more in common than you thought. juza loved your cute sense of style, always trying his best to compliment your aesthetic by wearing more of your hair accessories and modeling for your page (apparently, he had the perfect hair color for it)

(he even let you put his hair down for certain posts, his usually slicked–back hair laying flat against his forehead as he didn’t look at you, his head turned as he blushed. “it’s not that bad, right?” he’d ask and you always complimented him no matter what)

although juza kept his rather grunge neutral look, he admired the way you were so bright and liked calling you dessert–related endearments just because you were the embodiment of sweets. he 100% thought you were the most adorable thing in his life and had to be made of pure sugar

in order to support your style, juza liked coordinating his clips with yours. he’d text you the night prior just to gain insight on what type of look you were going for and come to your bakery with something similar (even if your coworkers liked poking fun at his serious, stoic face that only changed around you)

he also came in with a new phonecase and you nearly fainted from how cute he was. he had a case that had those little squishes on them, he admitted he liked feeling them whenever he got a little anxious (it was such a cute habit, you had bought him a whole stock and it was like a little kid on christmas morning)

(you also made earrings out of a pair, he would not stop touching them)

whenever he noticed kids staring, juza never failed to advertise your business like his life depended on it. yes, your customer base actually did grow, somehow thanks to your most unlikely model yet

however, juza wasn’t the only one who had adjusted his style, you did too!

you two actually had had matching letterman jackets, yours in pink & white with a “j” in large letters and his black & grey with your first name initial as well. sometimes, you guys even switched just for the fun of it

you even got to wear his usual “10” purple jacket every now and then, even though he never said anything about liking you in his clothes. he’d just casually leave it around your place, acting like you wouldn’t notice the dark outerlayer in your mass of pastels

as you two were dating, juza wanted to be the best boyfriend possible for you as he wondered what to get you for your anniversary coming up. as juza subconsciously rubbed his clips with a thoughtful look, he suddenly had a lightbulb moment

that’s it! he should make you something in return

when you began seeing juza less and less around the bakery, you were nervous as what he was up to. juza barely hid anything from you since he was such a poor liar, so it was clear when he avoided talking about what he did after school now

in reality, juza was becoming frustrated with how big his hands were. every time he tried to make something, he was too forceful and caused the line to snap. the amount of beads he had lost at this point was laughable as juza tried to not knock over the bracelet–making kit on the table

(it took yuki coming by and taking pity on his crouched over form for him to go somewhere, muttering to himself about how he needed this to be perfect or else he’d die)

(juza always had a strong respect for jewelery makers, but it increased much more once he realized how clumsy and small his attenton span was)

just when you thought juza had forgotten your anniversary coming up, he randomly texted you out of no where asking if you were free. you looked at your shift and agreed, knowing you needed a break and not questioning a thing

when you walked out of the bakery, juza was already there with a small bag, his foot tapping against the sidewalk. before you could even ask how he’d been, he shoved it into your hand with an embarrassed blush (he was so nervous, he swore his heart skipped a beat)

“happy anniversary.” juza mumbled when you opened the small mesh, drawstring bag with a gasp. you slowly pulled out the beaded bracelet with a shocked look, seeing multiple silver dessert–themed pieces hang. there were mainly purple and black beads with four white blocks spelling out “juza”

juza showed you his wrist and he was wearing a beaded bracelet in a similar style, except his was your aesthetic with various pastel shades and your name on his string ending with a cute heart

you teared up and juza winced, rubbing the back of his neck as awkwardly looked away

“that bad, huh?” before juza could die of embarrassment, you shook your head and pulled him into a hug, surprising him when you stood on your tippy–toes to give him a kiss on the cheek

“i love it, this is the sweetest gift ever.”

“only for you.”

when juza slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, you knew you were never gonna take it off

who knew the scary, intimidating boy from the bakery was the sweetest person alive?

#settsu banri #banri settsu #hyodo juza #juza hyodo #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! #act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3! #mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #banri x reader #juza x reader #a3! banri #a3 banri #a3! juza #a3 juza

[occassionalfanficwriter]

Unyieldingly Yours,

Summary: Mammon had always been used to having pacts masters that never treated him kindly. He figured that the new human exchange student was the same except he's been recieving gifts for no reason at all and his new master treats him like he's the favorite among his less troublesome brothers. And now there's another ring on his finger and suddenly his master isn't his master anymore.

Or a love story that happens out of sequence.

A/N: The story is told in medias res. I wish the keep reading option was fucking available on mobile.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fake Relationship, Slow burn only because Mammon and Mammorons are two halves of a whole pining idiota, local oblivious insecure demon in love with his sugar guardian human who pampers him to spite the world, Pretend Marriage up until it becomes the real deal, Hurt before Comfort, Intimacy disguised as helpfulness that would make Jane Austen proud, Love Words are: praise kink and acts of service, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence e.g. we went back to the orginal timeline, Through Love Miracles Happen

Rated: E for explicit descriptions of cock sucking (and emotions)

--

The facts of the matter are this:

He, the Avatar of Greed, is the first demon to get married.

His spouse is the human exchange student.

They are married in Devildom, the Human World, and the Celestial Realm.

His marriage is a sham.

Of the four facts about his current life, the fourth one is the one that bothers him the least. He knows his worth and it isn't much. He's happy enough that his Human was sparing his pride and dignity. That he doesn't have to worry that one day he'd go home and see someone else with them or have to go and stake his claim loudly and over and over again.

Everything was still the same as before they married. He invests and it fails, his Master/ Spouse/ Human bails him out. He has no money to spend and Blackie is out of the wallet and in his hand to use. His brothers gang up on him and his Human/Master/Spouse is there to save him even if sometimes he did whatever crime he was being accused of.

Mammon is used to being treated unkindly because that's what you get when you failed a rebellion. What he isn't used to was this:

"Mammon, can you get my book from the table?" accompanied by a sweet, pleading smile he couldn't resist.

Or

"Darling, come with me to check out this new café?" said with a loving look and an arm hooked to his.

Or

"Hello Love, your tie is as crooked as always!" a complaint without any bitterness or dislike and was instead said with great care as hands slid to his neck to redo the tie interspersed with quick and short kisses to his exposed collar bones, neck and finally his lips.

In short Mammon isn't used to you or your tender affections or your niceness or you being kind to him. Because it isn't really real when you have this gleam in your eyes that he knows all too well. It's defiance of what is expected and he knows it won't end well if he really goes and let himself believe. Defiance is what led to him being a demon. Love was what made him Fall and he doesn't want to do it a second time.

Except...

Except that he was greedy for the things no one could have easily.

Except that you were the exception to his rule and you had made him the exception to yours.

You'd made yourself a home in his heart in a place where their Father once was, branded him as yours in a way no one would ever be able to do. Your love was not a finite source and you forgave him for his sins far more easily in a way Father never would.

You had made him better...good in a way that a demon shouldn't be and you had accepted all of him, flaws and all and still proclaimed him beautiful, eyes shining as if you were seeing who he was before the Fall, before the Celestial War and it makes it harder for him to resist.

To believe that this marriage meant more than a way to spite Lord Diavolo and his schemes, to spite his brothers, to spite their Father, and to spite every human that called him as he was a Greedy Bastard.

He muses all of this as he watched you putter around your home in the human world. One that both of you had bought and registered as shared property. He looks at the homey but extravagant decorations at the wide windows that let the sun in and how it reminds him of his former home.

"Mammon! Where did we put the liquid polish?!" You whined and turned to him.

He moves away from his place on the wall and guides you to the cabinet tools and teasingly said,

"Jeez, what would you do without me?"

"Well, good thing we'd never have to found out!" You retorted as you pulled him towards the loveseat and instead of the sensible option of the L-section.

His traitorous heart stutters.

And he knew that he was destined to Fall again. As you gently removed your wedding bands, hands tenderly holding his, and with your lips kissing the spot where his wedding ring would have been resting...he wishes that you'd catch him if he did Fall again. That his lungs would not hurt from the impact of landing on the cold hard ground, that he wouldn't be left to remake himself once more stained with mud and dirt.

He kisses you softly, tenderly in a way that he once used to before the War. When softness was not a death sentence and a crime. He holds you close and tight in an embrace that demons aren't supposed to do.

Here are the things Mammon doesn't know:

That somewhere between forming a pact with him and late movie nights you had seen him.

That you had never meant for things to end up like this, a complicated mess of emotions.

That Love was a choice and you had chosen him.

You had arrived in Devildom not knowing what to expect beyond the worse and Mammon on your first meeting had done nothing to prove you wrong.

Until that moment in the classroom. When he had told his story about helping that child in the hospital. You had taken one look at him and you knew he was telling the truth even when Levi said differently.

You knew best on how to make a truth sound like a lie afterall.

Somehow from that point you paid a closer attention to Mammon. Silently observing him and noting what he likes and dislikes. Piecing together who he was beyond the Avatar of Greed, beyond being the Second Brother, beyond the demon who you had a pact with.

It was a like a puzzle whose entire picture was discordant. He was a demon capable of ruthlessness, and yet he was an emotional mess. A demon that empathizes deeply. He was smart and yet he could be an idiot sometimes.

He was perhaps the most humanlike among them, in a way that never ceased to surprise you.

"Oi! Why are you staring at me like that?" Mammon complained.

And you kept your smile before looking away from him.

"!"

"You-you've been hanging out too much with Lucifer and Satan!"

"Oh? Have I?" You teased him.

"Yeah! You've got the same evil smile as them now!"

You laughed softly and beckoned him to come close. And Mammon, never one to deny himself of a chance to plaster himself unto you, leaned over. Your voice softly whispering unto his ear,

"I just wanted to look at my favorite demon."

And then a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth which Levi saw as he entered the Common Area. And it started from there, tender touches whenever one of the other brothers were present.

A hand on his shoulder, or using his body to lean on, a gentle tug of his hair to keep him quiet during a marathon sometimes with a kiss to his head to pacify him.

If you were feeling bold and particularly touch starved you'd watch a horror movie with him and be the big spoon just so he can hide his face on your chest and you'd kiss the crown of his head until the scary moments passed.

And if you were lucky you'd get to sleep with him. (If you were extra lucky he'd sleep naked and let himself be held and then you'd wake up in a tangle of limbs ,and Mammon would take your breath away with the way the moon shines on his sleeping visage.)

In rare moments, when it was just you and him, you'd look at him and try to see past who he was now to catch a glimpse of the Angel that was. And you like to think that you do see what he was as an Angel.

It was in the gentle way he'd somehow look when lost in his thoughts, a private moment within his mind that he'd let you see sometimes. It was in the way he'd touch you on the days were being a human was hard. It was the way he'd look at you when you'd give small trinkets that now decorated his room.

In the way his face lightened up when you'd place a spare toothbrush on your bathroom for him to use.

It was in this small moments where the two of you integrate each other into a routine that was slowly being shared between you two. Sometimes you loved him too much that it hurts.

In between the small gifts that reminded you of him, in the stolen glances, and pretending like everything wasn't a calculated dance between the two of you...foolishly you realized that you had already loved him. There was no grand epiphany or the feeling of time stopping.

There had only been you and him, in the music room. Teaching him how to play Tchaikovsky, laughing along and smiling at his antics. He was talented at it and you had wondered if it was inherent or it was due to his long lived life.

As quick as the notes that the two of you began to play, you realized you had fallen in love and you continued to do so, following his lead and not regretting it for a single moment.

"You're just like this piece" You thought as the tempo changes from fast and playful into slowing down into a gentle playful beat, and as the piece ended and the notes lingered in the air you knew in the very depths of your heart, you would never be able to love anyone the way you came to love Mammon.

"Mammon, marry me?"

You asked, impulsive but certain.

"I'm a demon!" He blurts out, cheeks red.

"And I'm a human."

"I'm drowning in debts—"

"I'm rich."

"Well I'm poor!"

"How can you be poor when my assets are yours to spend?"

"Yo-you can't just do that! What if a real scum emptied out your bank account?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, you're the only one who'll get this treatment."

He chokes on air and flails about.

"Those aren't good enough reasons!"

"Then what about this: I love you."

He stops and blinks and covers his face with his hands, "That's not fair..."

You smile and kiss him softly on his forehead.

"I love you," You repeat "in ten thousand realities I'd choose you and love you."

"Just me?" He asked with a small voice, vulnerable and yet filled with uncertain hope.

"Just you."

And he smiled at you so brightly it felt like seeing the sun for the first time. He never stopped surprising you.

"Mammon, be my only man."

"Okay."

-

The thing is that its easy to forget that love was a choice. That no matter how many times you've used a spear as a walking stick it didn't change the fact that it was still a spear. That in the euphoria of love, of being human, you forgot that they had to shed what made them an Angel.

The thing is its easy to get wrapped up in your hurt and drown yourself in it to avoid the uncomfortable truth of the matter:

You were just a blip in his long life, and yet he would have loved you with the entirety of his being.

Loved you without leaving some for himself. And you had selfishly decided to carve out his last remaining hope because you had made your decision long ago.

Your Mammon over everything else. Not even a version of him could compare to the one you held on the palm of your hands. So you had closed your eyes and turned around, went back and ignored the pleas of staying and heart broken sobs as he begged you.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't leave me, please..."

-

"You have questions." You state, as you cleaned your wedding ring.

The light catching the engraved words inside the ring.

"Why me?" He asked and hugged you tighter, clinging and drowning himself into the sweet scent of your shampoo.

You stayed silent, unsure with how much of your heart you wanted to bear. Afraid of being known and found wanting.

"Sometimes...I dream of him...the one you didn't choose..."

"The one I abandoned" You thought bitterly.

"He...he just went and lived in the human world...in the place you used to lived in..."

You kept silent and played with the ring in your hand.

"Did you know that he had planned on confessing...? He wanted to give her one of his rings..."

"Mammon..." You begged him.

"Tell me...why come back when the outcome would have been the same?"

"Because he wasn't you. He isn't my Mammon, I had no presence in his life!" You turned and glared at him, unwilling to shed tears, and reveal how the thought of losing him hurt more than leaving a version of him behind.

You didn't want him to know how you've grown used to him in your life that even if you had stayed back there you'd end up searching for the traces of him in that Mammon.

"I love you, this you that married me! I'm in love with you! Beyond reason! Beyond everything the world can offer me!" You cried at the unfairness of him asking this of you as if your love that was blatant to the world was not real.

"How am I supposed to believe you?" He asked.

Hurt and fear etched in his blue and gold flecked eyes.

"With the way that I am here, in this moment with you, in your embrace, cleaning our wedding rings together." You answered as you cupped his face and looked at him in the eye and let him see the depths of your love for him.

"This is real" You say kissing his forehead, the gap between his eyes and then his lips, softly and sweetly as if he was the most precious treasure on all three realms.

And he was.

"I am in love with you, the angel that fell, the demon that rose from the ashes of who you used to be. I am in love with the you who trips over his words, the you who loves your siblings. I am in love with you who is more human than me."

You confessed, "How can I not come back to you? When you are my home? Mammon, we could divorce and undo our pact and even so I would still love you and no one else would be able to fill the hole you'll leave in me if our love fades..."

"I'm scared that one day I'll have nothing left of you. That I wouldn't have any way to prove to myself that you were real."

He whimpered.

"Then let's find a way."

"What if we fail?"

"What if we succeed?"

He looked at you, tears in his eyes and it reminded you of that Mammon you had hurt so cruelly for the sake of the one you held carefully on the palm of your hands.

"The truth is that I have loved you from the start, in that classroom as you confessed your kindness."

"That long?!"

You smiled through your tears, "Do you understand now? I'm only kind because you are, you can be greedy of me, covet all of me. You can want all of my kindness because it was all for you."

You wiped his tears and kissed the corners of his eyes. Kissed his lips deeply and tasted him.

He held you closer to him, chest to chest as his hands moved to your hips. You rutted against him lost in the sensations of his lips against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your now bare open chest.

He presses harder against you, giving you the friction to heat up your insides and you moan when his fingers enter you and he begins his ministrations. You miss his lips against yours even if your hands had traversed his chest and was now fumbling to unzip his pants.

The sex this time would be different.

"Let me worship you" You asked with a dazed look in your eyes from the love and lust you felt for him.

He laughs softly as if he had never known you were not the most devout of believers.

"Turning away from your God now?"

You smile enticingly, kissing him on his cheek, resting your entire weight on him.

"One cannot serve both God and Mammon," you whispered in his ear "Therefore I will serve you."

And Mammon feels the heavy weight of your words, clutches you tighter as your words settle between the two of you and lingers in the air.

"You can't," He paused to exhale "you can't take that back."

"I'd never."

He takes you into the bedroom and you worship him. You leave a trail of kisses across his muscular and toned chest, leading downwards to his thick cock standing at attention.

You paused for a moment to admire him.

"Why did you stop?" He whined.

"I think I am starting to understand what Theresa was on about."

And Mammon snorts and looked smug up until you take his whole cock into your mouth and start blowing him.

"Fuck!" He curses hands curled into your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. You take more of him in letting him fuck your mouth while your hand teased his balls.

He looked at you and saw you look so smug even when your mouth was getting fucked.

"Why did I ever—" He moaned "think that you were innocent—"

You take him deeper and as your gag reflex went away and Mammon comes down in your throat and you let out a pleased hum that made him come harder.

"Because I'm good at being a real hedonist~"You teased him and you pushed him back down gently on the bed and climbed on top of him.

His hands rests on your hips

You think back on all the names and endearment you've called him as you idly traced upon the white markings on his skin. His cock was already twitching in interest.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, gasping as your right hand played with his nipple.

"What I would I name a painting of you" You replied before sucking on his other nipple and lightly biting it.

"And?"

You looked at him and smirked,

"Chamahel."

-

There is power in naming things.

He had fallen for so long that he had forgotten what he used to be before being Mammon. Before turning a word into a name and owning it.

In the place in his heart where their Father's Grace used to dwell, in that place in his mind where the name he had been bestowed was forcibly crossed off, becoming unutterable in his tongue something had changed. He had been redeemed.

And it had come in slow and almost unnoticeable small increments with each passing moment he had shared with you. Briefly, he wondered if it was because of your love.

And then he discarded that thought because nothing was more important than knowing that he was—is loved by you.

-

Here are the things that both of you have come to know:

That through love a demon, even an Avatar of Sin, can be redeemed.

That long lasting love exists only because both of you kept on choosing each other.

That a marriage can last through several lifetimes because the soul never forgets.

And that Paradise was not where Heaven was but instead in the time shared with your lover.

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #R-18 #im on mobile so forgive me for the mistakes #will crosspost this on ao3 once i get an access to a laptop #one shot #might expand later on but who knows #not me definitely #fanfic

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 5

She crosses her arms, “If you don’t text me later, I’m gonna tell mom about Nick McDonald!”

Y/N gasps, “You wouldn’t,”

Henry peeks around the corner, he has to hear this. “Oh, I would,” Her sister notices him spying and she points, “excuse me, Clark.”

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⭐️This chapter contains sexual content. Please do not read if you are not a fan of explicit material.

“The power went out last night and my phone died! I am fine!” Henry wakes with a start and pulls on his boxers, darting out of the bedroom only to be completely embarrassed.

“Oh my god!” Her sister shouts at him with shocked eyes. Not only does she give him the up and down, but looks back and forth multiple times between the pair.

Y/N offers him a sheepish smile before turning toward her sister, “Ok, bye. You can go now,” She shoves her toward the door but her small sibling pushes back, “Do not…why are you so fucking strong!”

Not being aware of her terrible whispering skills, her sister says, “Superman is in his God Damn underwear in your apartment!”

“I know who he is, [sisters nickname]. Can we talk later?”

“I said you should get out there, not toss him a fucking coin, I have questions!”

“Ok, that was a good one,” they laugh but quickly get back to arguing, “but could you be more of an asshole right now? We have to talk later.”

She crosses her arms, “If you don’t text me later, I’m gonna tell mom about Nick McDonald!”

Y/N gasps, “You wouldn’t,”

Henry peeks around the corner, he has to hear this. “Oh, I would,” Her sister notices him spying and she points, “excuse me, Clark.”

“Stop it, S/N,” He can tell that Y/N is filled with embarrassment, “you need to go.” Her sister leaves the apartment with one last look at her little sister.

“Good Morning,” He strolls over to her and kisses her, “she seems like a handful.” He tugs at her robe, “This the famous robe?”

She nods, “I’m so sorry. She can kinda be an asshole. She has a key and she kinda thought you murdered me or something.” Her hands come up to his chest, “Apparently, sleeping with you was much worse.”

Henry gives a fake sniffle, “Well, I can’t say that doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t worry about it, and she doesn’t tell our mother anything at all.”

“Who’s Nick McDonald?”

She stops in her tracks, “That is strictly confidential.”

Oh, this could be fun, “And here I thought you were a good girl.”

She pokes his foot with her own, “And I’m not a good girl anymore?” She puts on her best fake pout.

“That depends,” He is dangerously close to her face, “What’d ya do?”

Y/N knows her whole body is flushed by now and she doesn’t know if she can keep up with this kind of game, “Don’t worry about it.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, “That scandalous, huh?”

“You’re not gonna drop it?” he shakes his head, “I snuck him into my parents basement the summer after I graduated high school,” His brow pulls together and he purses his lips.

That’s definitely juicy gossip, but not blackmail gossip, “And? That can’t be all.”

A big exhale escapes her, “You’re not gonna let it go, are you?” he shakes his head, “Fine,” She confesses in a very low, quiet voice.

“Speak up, Love” He turns his ear to face, hoping he heard her correctly.

Her chest flushes, “I said he ate me out and he came in his pants.”

Henry gasps,”You absolute minx!”

“We were just horny kids!”

Henry’s mind fills with thoughts of how badly he’d want a girl like that when he was young; a playful, giggly girl who’d sneak him into her house and use him. That’s a boys dream come true, ”But you were such a good girl that he came without you even touching him,” She blushes hard and her whole body tingles, “do you think it was how good that sweet cunt of yours tasted or the excitement of getting caught?” She can’t find words, she can only lick her lips, “Good girls always taste like heaven,”

She could lose it at any moment, “I swear you’re not a real person, she chuckles under her breath, “It’s stupid.”

He gives her a small kiss on her nose, “Stupid hard.” His demeanor going from hyper sexual to super goofy only proves her point.

He notices the time on the stove, “Oh, we didn’t sleep long at all.”

She starts to give him small pecks, “I’m afraid not.”

“It’s only 8:13, and it’s Saturday,” He feels a soft sucking on his shoulder, “and it’s still all rainy.”

His eyes involuntarily close at the sensation, “Oh no, how tragic,”

His boxers are not doing very little to hide how much he wants Y/N right now, “I know. Isn’t it awful?"

He kisses her forehead and notices that her hair smells like sugar and flowers, “Did I tell you good morning?” He lifts her chin and gives her a simple kiss. He kisses her again, not giving a single care about morning breath. He pushes her against the counter, then has her jump up. “How many good mornings are too many?”

“Let’s find out.” Her legs wrap around his waist, while his hand opens her robe. He tickles her stomach and she laughs , “No!” His fingers descend further, finding her clit in no time, “You really know how to start the day, huh?”

He gives her one Henry kiss before kneeling down when the door swings open, causing them both to jump. “Hey, did I forget—Jesus!”

Henry grabs a box of cereal and awkwardly smiles as he places the box in front of himself, “Just, um, making breakfast, most important meal of the day.” Y/N slaps his stomach without even thinking, “Hmph. Sorry.”

She looks like she could start crying at any moment, but also punch her own sister in the face at the same time, “Why don’t you knock?” He can’t tell if he’s just super horny or if her shouting has further turned him on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just, I uh, thought I left my phone.” She grabs her phone off the counter, trying not to look anywhere but the floor. “Nicholas McDonald!” She practically runs out of the apartment.

Y/N looks at him and lets out a snort, “She’s probably screaming in the elevator right now.”

“She almost got quite the show.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm, you ok?” His voice is sensual, deep, but sickeningly sweet.

“Yeah, but she’s never going to forget about this.”

“I’m never gonna stop thinking about it.” Henry kisses her collarbone, “Won't forget this,” he kisses her chest, “certainly not these,” An extra soft kiss lands right above her belly button where she’s ticklish, “or that laugh,” he reaches his intended destination and gently licks her, “or how fucking good you taste.”

Her legs widen in pleasure, “Oh my god.” Her left hand pulls at his messy hair. His hands slip behind her bottom, pushing her further into his face, “Fuck!” She swears she can almost fell him smile against her. He’s much more hurried than he was last night, even more passionate and Y/N never thought of herself as a screamer but she swears she can feel a loud cry bubble up in her chest.

Henry very briefly breaks away just so he can listen to her but connects the second he senses her frustration. Both hands now connect to the back of his head, only egging him on further. He sucks harder and he groans with the tightening grip on his hair. She’s going to come, she’s going to come hard on this counter and it still won’t be enough. He can’t help it, something about her makes him insatiable. Her thighs snap around his head, leaving him in a cloud of pride. He rises as he wipes his mouth, “Good morning.”

Y/N almost lunges at him, backing him into a chair and hastily straddling him. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” Y/N’s robe is peeled from her body and thrown god knows where, “How could you say such a thing?”

Her head rolls back, inviting him to nibble and suck on her nipples. “Because...”

He stops, snaking a hand behind her neck so he can see her face, “Because why, sweetheart?” She whines and trembles at his gentle yet dominant gesture, “Answer me.”  

“Because you feel too good.”

“Poor thing,” he pulls her face to his, “it must be so exhausting coming so hard.” His hand on the nape of her neck roams upward and tangles in her hair, “Maybe we should get back to bed,” their eyes are deadlocked.

“Or I can return the favor right here,” Y/N gives him a smirk, as she slides down to the floor.

Henry watches as she rubs her cheek on his thigh all while looking at him right in the eye, “You’re going to kill me.” No one should look so cute while doing something so dirty. She pulls him out of his underwear, stroking him, and not daring to look away from his face. She doesn’t break eye contact until she puts him in her mouth. Even then, she manages to look at times. She lets him go to get some air but stops her before she can continue, “Bed.”

After another round of moaning and groaning, and wobbly legs, they indeed did earn that nap. The coziness of her bed and softness of her skin sends Henry into a place he hasn’t felt since arriving for filming. This girl, this woman, who he’s barely known for 48 hours has made him feel at home. He knows it sounds strange. He knows this is very unlike him and it would seem to be unlike her as well. He’s holding her and has no intention of leaving her, so he pulls her even closer. His heart beats faster as she turns to bury her face in his chest like it was just where she belonged. What is it about her? I mean, he knows what it is but why now? Why when he’s working and leaving in a months time? He shakes the thought, squeezing her close again.

Y/N stirs in her sleep but doesn’t wake. A few moments later, she starts again and looks up at Henry with tired eyes, “I don’t think I’ve slept that hard in ages.”

“Yeah? I slept pretty good myself.” That morning voice.

“You’re so comfy.” She dramatically throws herself on top of him, welcoming his arms around her again.

He kisses the top of her head, “Do you wanna go out for lunch? I’m starving.”

“Oh, will this be that date you were talking about?”

“Yes,” He feels like he just asked a girl to dance at prom.

“Ok."

“But, I’ll need to get back to the hotel for a change.” She disapprovingly groans, “I don’t wanna go on our date with post rain shoes.”

“Post-rain shoes?”

“Yeah, you know when shoes make that fart noise.”

“Ah, the fart noise.” She plays with her necklace, half paying attention.

He blows a raspberry on her forehead before jumping out of bed, “Alright, you want to come with me or do you want me to come back?”

“And risk S/N having another fit at me?” He halts and turns on his heels.

“I forgot she was staying there.”

“She won’t cause a scene if you’re worried.” She has a secret pang of sadness and guilt in her chest. She would understand if he never wanted to see her again.

“I’m more worried about her interrogating me.”

“You should be.” Damn, straight.

“Oh? Any Ideas on what she’ll ask? I should be prepared.”

“Something along the lines of, ‘What were you doing to my sister?”

“I was about to split her in half.” Y/N face goes red.

“Henry!”

He has many smiles but he has a mischievous one that is similar to a boy who knows he’s been improper, “What would you like for me to say?”

“Definitely not that.”

“Maybe I’ll just run away from her. She can’t be that fast, she’s as tall as my leg.”

“Take it from me, that girl is fast when she’s angry. I dated someone much taller than you and she literally caught up to him in less that a minute. Don’t trust the little ones.”

“Taller than me? Good God, did he fall from a bean stalk?”

She laughs at look on his face, “No.” She can’t stop grinning at this suddenly thicker accent, “He was 6’5.”

“So, you’ve dated an Ent before. Noted.”

“I’m not attracted to trees, or any other lord of the rings creatures.”

He says under his breath, “Certainly not the hobbits.”

“I’m attracted to superheroes who hide in bars, and maybe Aragorn.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“I do know how to ride a horse.”

“I feel like British people are just born knowing how to ride horses.”

“Are all Americans born wielding guns?” Ouch.

“Oh, ha-ha,”

“You coming?” She pouts, “Don’t give me that look, I’ll never be able to leave.”

“If I go with you, I’ll never come back.” He stares at her, studying her face and loving how she doesn’t give two shits about how wild her morning hair is, “What?”

“I’m looking at you.”

“Well, yeah but why?” She plops her head back down to her pillow.

He wants to tell her that he find her fascinating and beautiful but he settles with his words, “I don’t know. I just like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“Will you like me next week?” Eager.

“Are you already asking me on a second date before out first date?”

“Yep,” He’s now fully dressed, in that perfect shirt. “How about this, I go back to the hotel, then we meet at Eco’s at 1?”

“It’s a date.” He kisses the top of her head and then very delicately on the lips.

“I’ll see you soon, Darling.” There’s that word again, Darling.

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers  @xxxkatxo  @lunedelorient  @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @viking-raider @summersing69 

#my posts #text #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill blog #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x smut #henry cavill x y/n

[niksixx]

Patience

~Part 2. Please read part 1 first~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader 

A/N: Keep up those comments. It motivates me! 

*Picture is not mine; Found on Google. Creds to the owner*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @ginny-baker-sixx @metalheartofgold @madamsixx @curly-hudson @headlight-queen @julessworldd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At twenty-seven years old, you had finally managed to piece your life together. Although your small business was just beginning and wasn’t generating as much money as you would have liked, you were happy.

Baking was a hobby that you turned into a full time job. While the process could be long, you never found it tedious. Every measurement, every smell, every pastry decoration and design, was satisfying. And by the reviews from your customers, they were impressed by your craft. They say if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.

Just as you check the clock on the wall above the shop door, a loud growl sounds from your lower belly. Glancing down at your stomach, you shake your head and chuckle, grabbing your wallet and keys to lock up the store. It is a slow day, and usually you bring lunch to work, but closing the shop for an hour won’t hurt. You’d only had four customers since opening at nine.

As you walk down the strip, you glance at all the different shops that once started out at the bottom, smiling as hope fills your heart. Plenty of the stores started out as tiny businesses, now flourishing. There was never a doubt in your mind that your store, your pride and joy, would succeed.

The smell of pork fried rice hits your nostrils as you push open the doors to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Behind the counter you spot Lei, one of the first friends to welcome you to LA years ago.

Lei’s eyebrows crinkle. “I thought you were working today! How are you?”

“Well for one, I’m starving,” you say, patting your stomach. “And two, I am. I closed up for an hour just so I could come and see you!”

Lei rolls her eyes as she punches buttons on the register, already ringing up your order from memory. “Papa! I need an order of sweet and sour pork over white rice and a spring roll to go, please. You know what? Make that two spring rolls, it’s for Y/N!” Lei shouts, turning back with a sneaky grin. “Free of charge just because I love you.”

Tipping generously, you sit by a table and wait for your order. Lei’s family owns the restaurant, one of the most well known on the Strip. You frequent her business as she did with yours, always making sure to buy a slice of red velvet cake each week. A day ago, she’d put in an order for fifty cupcakes for her son’s ninth birthday party that weekend, which reminded you to check the cabinets at your home for all the proper ingredients.

A vibration rumbles in your purse and you retrieve your phone, holding it to your ear. You weren’t expecting a call.

“Hello?”

“I need another bottle of Jack.”

The sound of your boyfriend’s slurred voice had you frowning. On the other end of the line, Vince Neil sits in the recording studio, half empty bottle of whiskey in his lap while Tommy Lee aimlessly toys around with his drum set, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Hi, babe. Are you still in the studio?” Lei makes a gesture with a take out bag, and you give her a nod, rising to your feet while cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Yeah, Doc gave us a ten minute break so I figured I’d call you. Did you hear me? I need another bottle of Jack. I’m almost done with the one I took this morning.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, forehead creasing. The man was building up his tolerance day by day, slowly but surely killing his liver. “Vince, that was a brand new bottle. I just bought that yesterday.”

“And it’s almost finished,” Vince remarks, rolling his eyes. “Just pick up another bottle on your way home.”

“Vin, you need to watch,” You warn, shaking your head. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend spiraling out of control like his heroin addicted bandmate, Nikki Sixx.

“I’m fine, stop worrying. I don’t need you pissing me off before I get back in the studio,” he spits back. “Just get the bottle.”

Sighing, you mouth a thank you to Lei before heading toward the door. “You know, the word please goes a long way--.”

The phone crashes against the tile floor as you collide with the door, or something that feels just as hard. Blinking to clear the stars from your eyes, your breath hitches in the back of your throat, lips going dry. Long, shiny red hair is the first thing that catches your eyes, followed by a pair of thin pink lips that look downright sinful, and soft gray eyes that hold a familiar warmth in them. The figure stares back at you, equally as stunned, unflinching as his hand holds open the door.

When you find your voice, it’s weak, just like your knees. “Axl?”

“Hey sugar,” his mouth quirks, and you blink again, positive that you’re hallucinating. There’s no way your old best friend is staring at you right now. It can’t be real. “Long time no see, huh? I see you’re still clumsy as ever.”

A hand covers your mouth and for a split second, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to cry. It doesn’t stay, and is soon replaced by sheer amazement. “Oh my God!” You throw yourself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. Axl beams, catching you in his embrace, squeezing you against his chest. “I thought I was dreaming!”

His laugh is light and airy as he sets you on the ground, readjusting the bandana that keeps his hair off his face. “How have you been?”

Any feelings of irritation brought on by the lack of customers in your store and your pushy, intoxicated boyfriend fly right out the window. “Well, I was having a pretty crappy day, but I think you just made it ten times better,” you say, shaking your head in astonishment, bending down to retrieve your phone. Vince yells on the other line, but you quickly hang up before stuffing it back in your purse.

You give him another look, and his smile captures your breath, holding it hostage. It’s him. It’s really him. “My gosh, look at you. You are definitely not an eighteen year old boy anymore, Axl Rose.”

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he’d become. He was taller now, and had thinned out. Pale skin was littered in tattoos, giving him the edge he lacked in high school, from what you can remember. A face that was once hard and rigid, now gentle, just like his eyes.

“I’d hope not,” he says lightly, cocking his head to the side. His eyes trail over your body, slowly. “Twenty five has been good to me, and it appears twenty-seven has been kind to you.”

“I’ll say,” you breathe, drawn to his playful grin. The boy that never liked to show his teeth turned into a man that couldn’t stop smiling. “Are you stopping in for lunch?”

“I am,” he nods, noticing your take out bag. “Do you want to have lunch together? Are you busy?”

You shake your head quickly, eager to spend time with an old friend. “Nope! Slow day at work today, unfortunately. And besides, I’ll never be too busy to have lunch with you.”

~~~

A huge smile spreads across Axl’s face when you unlock the door to your bakery shop. The colors, the decorations, were all so inviting. Before bumping into you, he’d always pondered about what you were doing with your life. You’d turned yourself into a business owner, and as Axl glanced around the store, he felt a sense of pride wash over his bones. The woman he loved continued to amaze him.

“This is incredible, Y/N,” he says, nodding in approval, dragging his fingers over a metal chair situated at a circular pastel purple table. “So, how long did it take your indecisive ass to figure out what you wanted to do with your life?” He teases, fake pouting when you push his shoulder. After all these years, you were still so comfortable around each other. Maybe it would be easy to win your heart after all.

“Hey, I wanted to make sure that whatever I planned on doing for the rest of my life would make me happy,” you argue, setting your food down on the counter. Axl stands on the other side of the counter, aimlessly toying with his chopsticks.

“Are you?” He questions in a serious tone, waiting for your answer.

“Always,” you reply with a smile.

It doesn’t reach your eyes.

And Axl notices.

~~~

Hours pass by, with only a few customers straggling in and out of your shop. You’d only sold a few pastries, but you plastered on a smile to hide the pit of devastation that had formed in your heart. It’s five-thirty, and you’ll give it another half hour before you lock it up, hoping someone else would notice your shop and drop by.

“So, Guns N’ Roses, huh?” After spending hours discussing your new life in California, the conversation turns to Axl. You want to know everything about him, everything you’ve missed the last seven years. Everything you couldn’t be a part of.

He nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I still can’t believe we made it.”

“There’s five of you, right?”

He nods again. “Yes ma’am. I’d like you to meet them sometime when you’re not busy. They’d love you. Especially Steven, probably a little too much,” he winks, keeping the atmosphere light. “I’ll tell him to keep the flirting minimal, only because that’s my job.”

Cheeks warm, you gather your trash and head to the bin in the front of the store, avoiding Axl’s lingering gaze. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know. No one did. “I’d love to, but that’s probably not the best idea.”

“How come?”

Biting your lip, you lean your elbows on the glass counter, clasping your fingers together. “My um...my boyfriend...he’s not a big Guns N’ Roses fan. He won’t even let me listen to your music. Probably would kill me if I ever did.”

Axl’s heart sinks. Let you? What the fuck? “Who’s your boyfriend?”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear. In fact, Axl’s face hardens when the name comes out of your mouth. “Vince Neil. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” you say with a wave of your hand. You weren’t in the mood to talk about your boyfriend, especially to your male best friend. Men didn’t like to talk about other men.

“Time out,” Axl says in annoyance. You want him to drop the conversation, but he presses on. “You’re dating Vince? You had your choice out of all those Mötley Crüe bastards, and you went with Vince? How--How did I not know about this?”

You shrug, biting the corner of your mouth. Cat’s out of the bag, might as well keep going. “No one does. I stay out of the spotlight. Vince has an image to keep up, you know? The player. The bad boy. It’s entertaining. A girlfriend ruins that. You’d think the label would want to contain him, but quite the opposite, actually.”

The floor sways beneath his feet as the words process in his head. If Axl knew anything about the pompous blonde asshole, then he knew you weren’t being treated right. “How long have you been together?”

You contemplate telling the truth, but if you didn’t, he’d pull it out of you. Sighing, you lean your forehead against your hands, mumbling, “Three years.”

His legs almost give out. Three years of hiding. Three years of pretending. Three years of wasted fucking time with a man that didn’t deserve you. Three years with his competition, his enemy.

“I knew you were in a band, Axl. Although I haven’t listened to any of your songs, I’ve heard your name on the radio, seen you at award ceremonies when I watched from home. And I...I wanted to reach out. I just didn’t know where to find you. Vince doesn’t even know that you and I grew up together. I’m too scared to tell him. It would just give him another reason to hate you.”

“And you don’t think you deserve better than that?” Axl asks, mouth twisting in anger. “Because I know you do.”

“Well…”

The door to the shop slams against the wall, and in stumbles a visibly inebriated Vince Neil. His blonde hair is stringy, matted against the side of his head, and the stench of alcohol fills your nostrils, lingering on his spiked leather vest. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels occupies one hand, while the keys to his car dangle in the other.

Eyes blazing, you step out from behind the counter. “Vince, what the hell? You drove here? Drunk?!” The evidence was in his hands, but you refused to believe your boyfriend could have done something so wild, so reckless.

“You...y-you didn’t come home with the...with the booze,” he slurs, throwing the empty  bottle in the trash bin. He trips forward, reaching out to steady himself on the purple table. “I was scared something ha-happened.”

“Something did happen, Vince! You could’ve killed someone!” You scream, tears blurring your vision as you fight back the urge to shake some sense into his body. How could he have been so careless? So selfish? “You could have fucking died!”

“Don’t raise your fucking voice--,” And Vince’s eyes go black when he sees Axl standing behind you, stonefaced, hands shoved in pockets. He doesn’t know why the redhead is here, with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t like it. “Rose.”

“Neil.”

Vince straightens, puffing out his chest.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Free country,” Axl retorts, eyes flickering to your face. The tears from your eyes are sliding down your cheeks. Even if he wants to bash Vince’s perfectly symmetrical face in, he holds back, not wanting to scare you. “And I was just leaving.”

“Axl, wait, no you don’t have to go.” You plead, grasping his wrist, voice thick with emotion. You didn’t want him to leave, not after you’d just gotten him back again.

“Yes, he does,” Vince says, more sober than he was a minute ago. Loosening his grip on the table, he toddles over, prying your hand from Axl’s wrist. Axl’s teeth clench, and his fists ball together in an attempt to keep the anger at bay.

“You’ll be going now,” Vince glares. “That’s not a request, either. I’m taking a piss, and by the time I come out, you’d better be gone.” He stalks off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

In a panic, you snatch a sharpie from the pencil holder on the counter, uncapping it with your mouth, before grabbing Axl’s wrist, scribbling digits quickly but legibly.

“What are you doing?” His voice is a hushed whisper as he tries to decipher the numbers.

“My phone number, my address.” you answer back, signaling to each one. Grabbing a piece of paper from your notepad, you quickly scrawl out Axl’s phone number and apartment address, stuffing it into your purse. He nods before pulling you in for a hug. “I want to see you again, Axl. It’s been too long.”

And he would see you again. There was no way, no way, that Axl would let anything come between you.

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose gnr #axl rose fanfiction #axl rose fic #axl rose fanfic #axl rose imagine #axl rose x y/n #axl rose x female reader #axl rose x you #guns n roses fic #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses x you #gnr fic #gnr fanfiction #gnr fanfic #vince neil x you #vince neil x female reader #vince neil x y/n #motley crue fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue #motley crue fic