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kingkaizen · 24 hours

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𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭

∘ desc: various scenarios on how the jjk men treat you during that time of the month

∘ ft: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, + toji

∘ includes: blood, suggestive themes (toji)

Gojo

↠ Gojo always finds himself completely unprepared when your time of the month comes around

↠ He usually finds himself being your errand boy and getting everything that you need

“Babe, what size pussy do you have?”

You sat on the couch with the phone on speaker in disbelief. The amount of times that Gojo has seen the exact pack of pads that you wear and still couldn’t remember is unbelievable. “Satoru. I hope you know that they aren’t based on how big your vagina is.”

Gojo stared at the large array of pads in confusion. “I surely hope not because these overnight ones look very scary.”

“Please just get the third size for me,” you sighed, already feeling your headache coming on.

“Okay baby, I’ll be there soon alright? I’ll pick up those chocolates that you like and maybe some ice cream too.” Gojo hurriedly made his way around the store to pick up everything else that you’d need.

“That would be great, thank you” you replied, throwing your head back against the end of the couch as you waited for Gojo to come back and take care of you.

Geto

↠ Geto is a very mature man and things like periods don’t make him squeamish at all

↠ He understands why you could be embarrassed about having it in front of him but he tries to calm those nerves as much as he can

From the moment you opened your eyes, you could feel an immense amount of pain coming from your abdomen. With the pain in your lower back mixed with the sticky feeling between your legs, you already knew what was happening. However, it came a little early this month and you unfortunately weren’t even in your own bed. Embarrassment washes over you quickly as you turned to look at your boyfriend sound asleep next to you. You slowly nudged him awake.

“Suguru, I’m sorry” you whispered quietly as he opened his eyes, pupils making their way to his ruined sheets underneath you. Without even missing a beat, he got up and went straight into the bathroom.

Your first thought was that he was either about to throw up from seeing your blood on the sheets or he was too mad to even speak to you. Regardless, you sat there, too uneasy to even move. Before you could overthink any longer, you could hear the bathtub running as Geto made his way back to you.

“Let’s get these clothes off of you, princess.” He kissed your forehead as he helped you rise from his bed, peeling your night outfit off of you slowly. He led you to the now perfectly warm bathtub, helping you get in.

“Are you mad at me?” You felt so ashamed of yourself in this moment, not even able to look at him in his eyes. His fingers rested underneath your chin as he lifted your head to look at him.

“Why would I be mad at you for something so natural?” He kisses you again, a peck on the lips this time. “My sheets are temporary, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Nanami

↠ Nanami is complete boyfriend material when you’re on your period

↠ He has the tracker on his phone so that he knows ahead of time and is prepared

↠ He always has your favorite snacks and things ready for when it’s time

Walking into your shared home with your boyfriend after getting off from work, the last thing that you expect is to see him sitting on the couch, blankets folded next to him with some popcorn and a movie ready to play. Nanami always manages to do things like this for you, being incredibly attentive to your needs.

“Babe, what is all of this for?” You ask as you take off your shoes, watching as he walks towards you to shower you in kisses.

“I know you’re probably in a bit of pain so I wanted to make sure you could relax as soon as you got home today.” He helps you take off your coat before leading you over to the couch. He brings some wine from the kitchen before sitting down next to you.

“Thank you, my love.” You give him a sweet kiss before snuggling up against his warm body, feeling his arms wrap around you. He starts the movie, rubbing your tummy, the heat from his hand feeling incredibly soothing.

“How did you even know that I was on my period babe?”

“I track it on the app sweetheart. I like to be prepared, you know.”

Sukuna

↠ sukuna cannot stand when this time of the month rolls around

↠ he hates having to deal with your constant mood swings but he still tries his best to not catch an attitude with you

↠ this is the only time that he will ever allow you to boss him around, just for a little while

“RYOMEN!” you scream at the top of your lungs for the third time, growing increasingly impatient by the second. You’re laying in bed, cuddling up against your pillow as your face cringes in pain. Your cramps feel as though they’re getting worse by the second, annoying you to no end.

“What, woman.” Sukuna strolls into the room, chocolate covered strawberries in hand. “You wanted me to make these for you yet you’re rushing me back in here.” He places them down next to you, hand calmly rubbing your back. “What is it now?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Ryo’.” You pout at him, “I feel like such a bother to you, do you hate me now?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at your dramatic question, sighing in response. “I could never hate you. You’re my queen and I’ll do anything for you, no matter how bitchy you’re being.”

“I’m sorry,” you could feel yourself tearing up at the thought of being mean to your boyfriend, “I’m just in so much pain.”

“Shhh, just lay down and eat your strawberries.” Sukuna picks one up and guides it to your mouth as you take a bite. He reaches for the remote to turn on your favorite show before getting up to leave the room once again. “Just relax while I go get you some more water.”

“But, I want to cuddle” you request in a pleading tone, tilting your head to the side in persuasion as you tap the empty spot on the bed next to you.

“Fine, just don't complain that you're thirsty in two minutes."

Toji

↠ Toji has dealt with his fair share of girlfriends and periods

↠ This time of the month usually marks a very happy time for him as he realizes that you are in fact not pregnant

↠ Regardless of that, he ensures that you’re okay in the best way that he can

“I’m officially not pregnant!” You smile as you walk into the kitchen where Toji is cooking, walking up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Got your period huh? I’m actually a little disappointed.” Toji replies, putting a top over the rice that’s currently on the stove before turning around to face you. He gives you a kiss on your forehead before lifting you up on the counter.

“Oh please, all you tell me is how much you don’t want another kid, you should be celebrating.” You roll your eyes at your him, watching the smirk slowly creep up onto his face. His large hands grip your hips, massaging them firmly.

“From the way things went last time, I’m surprised that you don’t have a little one in there.” He smiles, placing a hand on your tummy.

“You gonna let me try again?”

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confused-pyramid · 2 days

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I'll Be Yours In A Landslide | s7 interlude

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, angst

a/n: IMPORTANT UPDATE: Sorry for the wait guys, I've been super busy with graduating soon and other life updates, so I haven't had any time to write:( I really wanted to give some sort of a tie-up for this series at least for the time being, so I wrote a little interlude for y'all. I am hoping to come back at some point, but for now, I'm putting an indefinite hold on this series. I really appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten from people, and I hope to talk to you all soon:) Title is from State Lines by Novo Amor

series masterlist

"How could you?"

You push past him, shoving your way into his apartment the moment he opens the door. You were fuming your entire drive over, but now that he's standing in front of you, your mind is a battlefield of warring emotions: I hate you, I love you, I missed you.

"You knew the whole time that she was alive," you gasp, already feeling out of breath, "and you kept it from us. From me."

"I'm sorry." It seems to be the only thing he can say these days. He has said it so many times, he's lost count, but it doesn't make this better. He knows he hurt you, even if he didn't have a choice. "Please just sit down and we can talk."

"No," you shoot back, shaking him off as he tries to step closer. "I'm not gonna calm down right now. I've been keeping this in for months, Aaron. I was there for everyone and no one was there for me."

His brow screws together and you know you're hitting exactly the right spots to make him feel worse, but you can't help it.

"I wanted to tell you," he says, his voice almost frantic as you pace back and forth across his living room. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you all of it, but I couldn't."

"You should've tried harder," you yell, knowing how unfair that is even as you're saying it. His face falls and he turns his palms towards you, like he's about to surrender, but that isn't what you want. You want the fight. It's what you've been waiting for for months.

You open your mouth to yell at him again, but then his eyes find yours, and he looks at you in that way he used to...like it's the first time he's seeing you all over again, and suddenly you're walking toward him. His eyes widen as you crash into him, and before he can understand what's happening, your lips are on his.

It takes him way too long to realize what's happening, but his hands move faster than his brain. They latch onto your waist, tugging you closer, pressing your chest to his, as you gasp into his mouth. When his brain finally catches up, he swears he can see fireworks as you grasp onto him, your lips so soft over his. He's been drowning for months, years, wanting you, waiting for you, pushing you away, and now you're here and he can finally breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips, trying to emphasize how grateful he is to have you back, but you just bring your hands up between you and tear off his open button down before chucking it to the ground.

"Shut up," you mutter, a pang of hurt cutting through even as you try to sound angry. "Just kiss me."

He doesn't make you ask twice. His lips come back to yours as he walks you back towards the couch, your knees buckling when they hit the seat.

Aaron sinks down and pulls you on top of him as you grab at every part of him, your fingers tugging at his collar and your teeth brushing over his bottom lip. The kiss is harsh and he gasps as your nails drag over his skin, but he doesn't care. You're here.

He's falling, succumbing to the overwhelming desire rising up within him, but before he can let go, he pulls back momentarily. "You're sure? I don't want you to regre-"

"I want you," you whisper, the last word turning to a sob against your will. "I'm so mad at you, but I love you and I want you, so please don't stop."

His eyes squint with shame and for a moment you almost feel guilty for how harsh you are being, but then the desire returns and he pulls you down on top of him. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, and the roughness of his beard feels unfamiliar, yet exciting. When his mouth moves down your jaw, the scratch of his beard against your skin ignites a fire within you.

You claw at his back, trying to pull his tee shirt over his head, and he reaches down, helping you wrest it off and onto the floor. The movement sends your hips back over his groin and he lets out a low groan as he tears your button-down open.

When your top falls to the floor as well, you both pause, finally realizing the gravity of what you're doing. Your eyes drag down his chest, over the thick scars lining his abdomen and collarbone, and soon your fingers are following along, tracing a path of fire over the roughest and most beautiful parts of him.

You gasp as his fingers ghost over the scar on your waist, where your bullet wound used to be, and before the tears in your eyes can fall, your lips are back on his.

There's more urgency in your movements this time as you try to relish the feeling of his mouth over your pulse, your hips rolling over him.

"Bedroom," you whisper as heat spreads between your legs, emanating from the grip of his hands on your thighs. "Now."

He doesn't waste a second as he wraps his arms around your body and stands up, lifting you along with him as he makes his way down the hall. His lips don't leave yours even as he pushes the door open with his back, and he only breaks away to toss you onto the bed. You hit the covers with a gasp, and you see his pupils darken with lust as he climbs over you, his pants already tightening.

You can hardly believe he's back in your life again, and even as anger and hurt cloud your vision, he's here in front of you, and you need him as close as humanly possible.

"I want you too," he says suddenly, his eyes finding yours in a moment of earnestness. "So much...for so long."

Your throat thickens with tears again, and you can't decide whether you want to blink them away or let them fall, but then he quickly tugs your jeans and panties off in one go and every thought leaves your brain.

He looks animalistic as he peppers kisses up your legs, his mouth warm and wet as he stops just before your core for an extra second to rile you up.

"Aaron," you groan, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him forward. You won't beg, not right now, but he gets the idea.

He practically grins at your desperation, drawing it out a bit longer by sucking bruises into your thighs, before he finally goes where you are willing him to. Your head falls back with a gasp as he plunges his tongue down, licking a trail up your slit that has you writhing beneath him.

He presses his hands into your thighs, spreading them apart as your hips jut off the bed. His tongue feels like heaven as he works you open along with his fingers, getting you close within a matter of minutes.

"Aaron, please-" you gasp out, your words cutting off as he hooks his finger up, his movements precise in a way that both surprises and exhilarates you. You're not even sure what you're asking him for, you just need more of him.

It's like he can hear your thoughts, because his fingers start moving faster, and when your grip on his hair tightens, he lets out a low hum that vibrates up your core.

You are barely aware of what your legs are doing, but when he grabs your ankle and lifts your leg over his shoulder, your head flies back and you're moaning his name so loudly, you're afraid the neighbors will come knocking.

"Yes," you gasp, your fingers pulling at his hair harder you mean to.

He laves over your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, until you come apart under his tongue, your mouth falling open with a loud cry.

You taste incredible, and he's so hard that his jeans have become uncomfortably tight, but even as you cry out his name, it's not enough. He wants to see you come apart under him.

Gripping your hips, he yanks you down so that you're lying directly beneath his body, eliciting a soft moan from you. Your eyes are wide with bliss as you look up at him, your eyelashes fluttering softly, and he has to grip the sheets beside your head to keep his pants from tightening any further.

His knee presses down on the bed between your thighs as he lifts you up and deftly unclasps your bra, before gently dropping it to the floor. When he returns his gaze back to you, his breath stutters as he takes in the sight before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers, almost as an afterthought. "You're so beautiful."

He has always known it, but something about seeing you in his bed, like this, feels unbelievable. Like he somehow did everything exactly right. Except you didn't, his brain reminds him. You did everything wrong, and still got this lucky.

Maybe it is luck. But whatever it is that brought him here, he isn't going to waste another second thinking about it.

You help him tug his pants off, and when he chucks his boxers off right after, his cock springs free, hard and ready without you even touching him. Your mouth floods with saliva as his knee presses forward between your legs, and you reach down to take him in your hands, but he pushes you back with a small shake of his head.

He wants to feel you more than anything else in the world right now, but he's already so riled up, he's afraid to let you touch him until he's inside of you. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a foil packet to cover himself, before he lowers himself down.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice gruff even to his own ears.

You nod, your legs spreading as he lines himself up, and his breath gets stuck in his throat when he slowly pushes in. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, taking his time to push forward until he's fully seated inside of you.

He's big enough that you need a few moments to adjust, but once he starts moving, a string of moans falls from your lips. He leans forward to press a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, and when he pulls back, his pupils are so dark you can barely make out the color of his eyes.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your skin as he presses his mouth to your neck, his hips slowly rocking into you. "You're everything."

After growing accustomed to his size, the stretch feels amazing, and you try to respond, but your head just falls back onto the pillow as waves of pleasure roll over you. You remember your dream from while he was gone, the hazy sequence that had you waking up in a heated fervor, and you can't help but think about how much better he is in real life. How you waited for so many years, and even when it hurt like hell, it was all still worth it.

He starts to thrust faster, and you hike your knees up, trying to change the angle to get him even deeper inside of you. When he hits the right spot, you let out a high gasp and your walls involuntarily squeeze around him.

"Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters slightly. "You can't do that." He dips down to press his lips to yours for a sharp kiss. "I'm already close."

"Me too," you cry, realizing it as it flies out of your mouth. "I'm so close."

Your words seem to flip a switch in his brain. You watch as his eyes darken and his rhythm picks back up, like he only has one goal and he won't stop until he gets it.

You're starting to squeeze around him again, and he fists the comforter next to you as he thrusts faster, his other hand coming down between the two of you. It doesn't take him more than a few seconds to find your clit, and when his thumb flicks over it once, then twice, your breath stutters and your walls close around him so suddenly that he nearly finds his release as well.

You look magical as you fall apart below him, and he keeps moving inside of you, working you through it as he commits the image to memory. You let out a soft sigh as you come down from your high, but it only takes a few more thrusts for him to near the edge.

"Where do you want me?" he asks, his voice a low hum as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching over his scalp.

You gasp quietly. "Come inside me. Please."

He groans, picking up his pace again, and wraps his arms around you in an effort to bring you even closer. You press your lips to his as he releases, swallowing his gasps while he slowly comes down.

He pulls out slowly, taking care not to hurt you when you're sensitive, before heading into the bathroom. He returns after a minute with a small towel that he uses to carefully clean both of you up with.

After tossing it away, he climbs back into the bed and tugs you close to him, your back pressing into his front like a pair of puzzle pieces. The day is starting to catch up with you, and you feel tiredness pull at your eyes as his chest rises and falls evenly behind you.

"I'm in love with you," he says suddenly, his voice hurried like he surprised even himself. "I'm sorry if it isn't the right time or if that isn't what you wanted from this, but-"

"Aaron," you cut him off, turning over so that you can reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with you too. Of course I am."

He lets out a breath, and you can almost hear the relief in his sigh as he wraps an arm around you and tucks you into his side. Unsurprisingly, he's a furnace wrapped up beside you, but you can't bring yourself to move, especially with how much comfort his mere presence brings you.

You lay there for a while, taking this uninterrupted time to re-memorize his face as his breath evens out. You could never forget anything about him, but he's been gone for so long that you expect there are hundreds of new facets to him that you'll get to learn.

His eyes have been closed long enough that you assume he is asleep, but then his breath stutters and you look up at him as he squeezes you closer in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice sending reverberations through his chest. "I know you know I couldn't tell you everything, but I should have let you in more-"

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Your voice is strong, and he must hear the finality in your tone, because he immediately quiets down. "I know you're sorry...and we'll talk about this more in the morning. But right now, I just want to be here with you. I just got you back."

He's quiet for a moment, but you feel his chin dip down in a nod. "Morning then. Good night."

His arms tighten around you and you snuggle next to him, every part of you interweaving in an effort to get closer than you already are.

That night, you have the best sleep you've had in years.

TAGLIST:@citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @chronicallybubbly, @shilphy87, @threespacemonkeys, @zaddyhotch, @slytherin-min99, @endofthexline, @thattookaturnforthenerdy

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mabelstone · 1 day

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Imagine Being Loved by Me

hozier x f! reader

part three of lullabies <3 | part two | masterlist

cw: 18+, nothing too serious but a bit teeeny bit of smut

word count: 3.2k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure

Three weeks have gone by since I walked in on Joe piledriving another woman in my bed.

Three weeks ago after a beautiful morning of jazz music, pancakes, and instant coffee, Andrew drove me back to my house to pick up my car. I sent him away with an earnest hug, putting on my bravest face as I let myself inside. No shit, there were rose petals on nearly every inch of floor board. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead, tiptoed upstairs into my room. Joe was asleep in bed, and I nearly tasted my breakfast for a second time that morning. Instantly, I felt nauseated, the type that makes you hot and dizzy and want to run away and never come back.

I pushed the feeling back down, determined to grab all my shit and forget this tainted cell of a house I once loved more than anything. Furiously, I began stuffing all of my clothes into a suitcase. Then in another bag, I took everything that belonged to me; sheets, towels, everything down to the last teabag. I was fuelled with rage, huffing and puffing my way around the house, lugging my bags out to my car. Oh, fuck. My keys.

Where are my car keys?

I searched the house like a mad woman, tearing apart the couches, looking in every cupboard and under every piece of furniture. Nothing. I called Andrew, asking if I'd had them at the bar, as if he'd know the answer if I didn't. "Ehm... just your house keys? I tink..."

"I tink you're no help," I mocked, hanging up with the briefest of smiles before I was playing detective again. I searched for nearly an hour before caving in and waking Joe.

I shook his shoulder roughly, standing back with my arms crossed once he finally stirred awake.

"Mmm..." He groaned, and I waited patiently with a scowl for him to realise it was me and not some broad off the street. "Oh, you're finally home."

"Where are my keys?" I deadpanned, fuse shorter than ever. I wasn't in the mood for the slightest conversation with him.

"I missed you so much, babe," he sighed, pulling my stiff body into a hug. I peeled myself away from him, repeating myself.

"Where are my keys, Joe? I left them in the fruit bowl, and now they are gone."

"Let's talk first before we make any hasty decisions," he coaxed, pulling me by my wrists onto the bed beside him. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

"Joe, please."

"I've been up all night crying, my heart is broken," he sighed emphatically, taking my hand into his. Oh, you're the heartbroken one? "I can't imagine a life without you."

"You weren't thinking that way when you were fucking the girl you met at my show."

"You hadn't had sex with me in weeks! I was getting desperate-"

"Just stop," I barked, throwing his hand off of me. "Give me my car keys so I can leave. This doesn't need to be any harder than you've already made it."

After minutes of brutally painful back and forth, he gave me the keys to his safe. I unlocked it to find my keys and an open jewellery box with a sparkling engagement ring. He was sitting on the bed, eyes filled with optimism, and I almost fell for it.

My phone buzzed and I saw a message from Andy.

You haven't crashed your car have you? X

I took my keys and closed the safe, turning on my heels out of the bedroom.

"Um, what the fuck?" Joe called out as he followed close behind me, roughly grabbing at my arm when I was halfway out the front door. "I just proposed to you, and you don't even have the decency to say no?"

"No," I replied, unlocking my car and tossing my bags into the boot.

"What? Babe, don't throw this away," he began to cry, clearly panicked.

"I haven't thrown anything away. You have." I shoved him away by his chest, just about ready to boil over with anger. "You have destroyed any shred of trust I had in you. It's over, Joe."

My tough act began to slip as my voice shook, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut before he could see how hard this really was on me. He screamed something inaudible at me as I drove away, and I watched him sob into his hands from the rearview mirror.

I cried the entire drive to my mums, ignoring the hundreds of calls I missed from him.

Andrew and I continued to spend time together. I spent many nights at my mums place while I tried to look for a house. I didn't have rental history as Joe wouldn't put me on the lease... because I didn't have rental history. "Babe, it'll just make everything harder," was once his excuse.

When my step dad would get unbearable, Andrew would invite me to spend the night. These nights would frequently begin with me sobbing about how broken hearted I was, and end with him and I snuggling on the couch to a movie. Innocent enough, sure. But after weeks of abstinence following six years of frequent sex, I was pent up. So pent up to the point where I would have to excuse myself for some time alone with his retractable shower head. Many of my thoughts of Andrew were so explicit, you'd think they were from the brain of a teenage boy who'd plough through two boxes of tissues a day. This of course left me feeling inexplicably guilty and beyond confused.

Tonight, we drank wine and sang cheesy duets together. We clumsily danced and laughed until we cried. He had the coordination of a newborn giraffe, and though I'd never admit it to him, I wasn't much better. He drunkenly rambled about how in a perfect world, he'd own a cottage in Wicklow and keep bees. I told him how I'd be a florist who sold my Irish friends' honey.

As if routine now, we'd share a blanket on the couch and watch a movie. Last night was Superbad, tonight was Inception. Andrew mindlessly carded his fingers through my hair, and with the comfort that brought me mixed with the wine, I was out to it within minutes.

His beard tickled the inside of my thigh as he continued to bite and suck at the sensitive skin, eyes boring holes into mine with a devilish grin.

"C'mon, Andy," I whined, throwing my head back in frustration. I closed my legs over his head, desperate to feel his mouth on me where I needed it viscerally.

"Patience, darlin'," he tsked at me, spreading my legs wide before him again. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous right now."

"Please, just touch me," I begged, reaching a new peak of arousal that was actually causing me pain. "Anything, just fucking touch me!"

He just chuckled, locking his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer to his face. He continued to place hot, wet opened mouthed kisses along my thighs, his beard scratching over my clit for a split second, and I swore I was on the brink of orgasm immediately. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, impatience taking full control of my autonomy.

He licked a languid stripe up my clit, causing me to let out a guttural moan, arching my back beneath him. He pushed me back down by my hips, one hand easily reaching my breast as he toyed with my nipple.

"Fuck, Andy," I cried, eyes screwing shut as every single nerve ending of mine came alive.

"Look at me," he ordered, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against my core. Without warning, my orgasm rippled through me, each nerve erupting like fireworks as I chanted his name.

I woke up panting, taking a moment to realise I was laying with Andrew on the couch. And processing the fact that I actually just orgasmed in my sleep.

"What's a'matter?" His voice was soft and concerned as he turned his head to face me.

"Weird dream," I laughed breathlessly, heart still pounding in my chest. This happened far too often. I almost wanted to spill my guts and confess everything he made me feel.

"Dreamin' of me, huh?" He grinned down at me, and I felt my cheeks burn.

A moment's silence.

"What?" Please tell me I wasn't moaning his name in my sleep.

"I'm jokin'," he laughed, averting his eyes back to the TV. "Unless you were."

I laughed along too, though in my head I was screaming. 'Unless you were,' what the fuck does that mean?

The credits rolled over the screen and like routine, we got off the couch and went to our separate rooms. Except this time, my heart didn't settle, and I didn't get much sleep.

We went about our days as usual, as if I didn’t fantasise about him every waking moment. I worried that I was catching feelings, and catching them far too fast for someone who'd only just gotten out of a 6 year relationship.

I couldn’t help it. I was infatuated. Infatuated was an understatement. I was completely and utterly enamoured by Andrew. I wanted to be in his presence every moment I could. I often told little white lies so I could spend the night, even though our we remained within a strictly friends only basis.

He was kinder than any man I’d ever met, insisting on having to open every door for me, sending me off to bed with a glass of water each night, and waking me with coffee just how I liked. He was gentle and tentative, always fast at identifying cues when I was upset.

But that’s all we were - just friends.

I began to crave his touch, desperate for any opportunity to feel his skin on mine. He’d often play me a new song he’d written, and I’d watch on with hearts for eyes as his skilled fingers worked his guitar effortlessly.

I saw it in his eyes too, sure he wanted me how I wanted him. I dreamt of climbing into his lap, kissing him until my lips were swollen or until he couldn’t take it anymore and we’d need to take off our clothes to satiate our desires.

But I couldn’t.

When it felt like we were moving in that direction, I’d turn ice cold. Though my heart was begging me to love him how he deserved, my brain knew this was probably just a rebound. And someone with a heart as golden as Andy's didn’t deserve the hell grief I’d cause him.

So I brushed off each pet name as if hearing them didn’t cause my stomach to do acrobats. I treated each night on the couch as if we were simply best friends who enjoyed each others' company. As though there was no other option than spooning on the couch where his scent became hardwired into my brain. I’d act as if I couldn’t feel his hard on pressing into the small of my back most nights. I’d pretend I’d have no idea what he was really doing when he’d have to excuse himself halfway through the movie to ‘make a call.’ It’s just how it worked for us.

And often, I wondered if it was torturing him as much as it was me.

We pulled up at the venue, Andrew of course opening my door for me, offering me his hand as I stepped out onto the kerb. I thanked him and we headed in together, turning a few heads as we did so. Not that this was unusual, he was 6’6” and painfully handsome, after all. He’d also given himself quite the name, rumours of a few producers attending tonight in hopes of setting him a deal.

“Remember me when you’re famous and touring the world without me,” I fake pouted, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Well obviously, nobody forgets their muse,” he bumped his shoulder into mine, that cheeky grin stretched across his face. “Besides, I owe you that much for giving me something to write about.”

I nearly choked on my drink, raising my eyebrows at him. “And what songs are written about me, hm?”

“The monster mash?” He kept a straight face, giving me that duh look at the same time.

“Oh, shut up, Andrew.” I laughed, acutely aware of the man who just sat beside me. “I’m being serious! It'd make me happy to know.”

“You’ll know when you hear ‘em, baby,” he grinned, throwing back his glass of champagne. Baby. My heart leapt from me, and in that moment I was grateful that he wouldn’t have noticed the deep blush splattered across my cheeks. He was too busy claiming another round of free drinks for us.

“Please tell me that’s your brother or something,” the man sat beside me spoke up, chocolate brown eyes so endearing, thick American accent on his lips.

"I sure hope not," I joked. His face fell, and I realise how that could've been misconstrued. "No- he's not my boyfriend either. We just sing together."

He put his hands together in prayer, looking up to the roof, mouthing, 'thank you, God.' I laughed at him, shaking my head. He had dark brown curls similar to Andy's, his were just more tame and much shorter. Full lips that twisted into a dopey smile, and if I weren't so confused with my emotions, I'd have jumped into a cab and gone home with him without a second thought. "I'm Will," he introduced himself, shaking my hand.

"Y/N," I blushed when he kissed my knuckles, wondering where the hell Andy had run off to. "Where are you from?" I attempted to avert the conversation, regaining ownership of my hand.

"Colorado," he smiled, signalling to the bartender that he wanted to order another round. "And you're a singer?"

"Uh... well I sing, yes," I giggled, the three prior glasses of bubbles gone to my head. "I wouldn't label myself a singer as such."

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," he grinned, slipping his hand onto my thigh.

"I uh," I stammered, struggling to find the words. "That's very kind," my eyes searched the room for Andy. He towered over mostly everybody wherever we were, standing out like a sore thumb. But for some reason, he was nowhere to be found right when I needed him.

"I'm only in town for the night," he leaned in close to me, his breath hot in my ear, and his hand only getting warmer on my thigh. "Once you're done your little performance, why don't you come back to my hotel and give me an encore?"

Like the Gods had intervened, a familiar calloused hand was grabbing my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go backstage." I looked up to Andy, his expression rigid, bordering on disgust and anger.

"Oh, okay," I nodded, hopping up from my stool, Will's hand quickly retracted. "Uh, see you," I smiled awkwardly, Andrew's grip still around my arm.

"Here's your drink," he let me go, handing my glass to me.

"You saved me, Andy," I laughed, glancing back at the man who'd already moved onto his next victim. "Total wanker."

"Mhm," he hummed, not even looking at me as we made our way backstage.

"Everything alright?" I prodded, his expression unchanging. He didn't reply, instead opened the door to the green room for me. We weren't at our usual bar tonight. We'd been invited to perform at a decently size theatre that just so happened to be full of producers, offering free drinks for the performers. Maybe not the best combination.

The green room was alive with seven or so other musicians, all mingling amongst each other as they awaited their turns. There was a table lined with finger food, and a minibar with premixed drinks. Andrew had made a beeline straight for the snacks table. Typical.

"Um, hello?" I whisper shouted to him, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. "Is there a reason you're ignoring me? Is it because of that bloke? Because I-"

"Yes," was all he replied, taking his food to one of the couches with him.

"Okay," I was surprised with how forward he was, sitting down beside him, honestly perplexed by his rigidity. "...Why?"

"I didn't like the way he was talking to you," he shrugged, still avoiding my eye contact. "He was disrespectful."

"So... why are you icing me out, exactly?"

"I will say the wrong things, better to say nothin'."

This was unlike any way I'd seen him act before. Cold, annoyed... jealous? Surely not.

"Well, I'm sorry I- or he made you feel this way."

"Andrew Hozier-Byrne? You're on in two minutes," one of the stage hands announced, nursing his clipboard on his hip like a baby. "And we're still going ahead with the song change?"

Andy nodded, having a quick drink of water and tossing his rubbish away.

"Song change?" I questioned, following behind him. I made sure to watch every performance of his, even if it meant being amongst the audience when I wasn't also performing.

"Oh, yeah. When I went to get you a drink, I quickly changed my song. No biggie," he shrugged, tying his hair back into a bun, slipping his cap over the top. Jesus Christ, he looked fucking edible.

"What's the song?" I pressed further, still adamant despite the backstage timer ticking '30 seconds.'

"Haven't named it," he shrugged his guitar strap over his shoulders, giving me a wry smile. "It's about you, though."

I blushed deep, unable to form words. There was no space for talking anyway; he headed out onto the stage, leaving me dumbfounded as I watched on.

He awkwardly introduced himself, as he did each night.

And then followed my undoing.

I'd be the voice who urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice.

Imagine being loved by me.

Suddenly, there was not nearly enough air behind this curtain as I watched on, awestruck.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do.

So I try to talk refined in fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you.

I'd be the last shred of truth lost in the myth of true love.

I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of.

That's found in the last witness before the wave hits, marvelling at God.

Before he feels alone one time and marries the sea.

Imagine being loved by me.

Fuck.

My knees felt weak, sure my ears were deceiving me. Imagine being loved by me. Oh, but I do.

Sure enough, producers from many labels were flagging him down from the minute his set finished, flooding the backstage where I was waiting for him.

I ended up having to go on straight after Andrew, thankfully. I couldn't think of any words to say, and the ones I could think of were highly inappropriate. Not that he would mind, clearly.

I hung around after my set, making eye contact with Andy here and there, waving him off when he looked like he might leave the conversations for me. I was happy for him. Ecstatic. And the craving for his touch only multiplied tenfold with his subtle admission that he felt the same.

tricked ya!! i am physically incapable of writing slow burn lol i hope u enjoy what i have for u in the next chapter xx it'll be very juicy (and hopefully longer)

i've also added a taglist as per a request, lmk if you wanna be added xo

#hozier #hozier smut #andrew hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier fanfiction

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tojiswhore-aventurinesslut · 18 hours

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Part 2 to this post where you find Aventurine again, thinking you're gonna settle the score. But instead, he has you right back where you were before: pinned against the wall and aching for him. Except this time, he doesn't stop.

Warning: NSFW, fingering, rough face fucking

You're breathing hard, clit throbbing, as he kisses along your neck and pinches your nipples between his fingers.

"I thought you would have more to say but you've been awfully quiet. Nothing but moans and pants leaving that pretty little mouth of yours." He says against your neck before working his way down further to your exposed breasts, taking a nipple into your mouth and biting, eliciting another moan from you.

He holds both of your wrists behind you, not letting you touch him while he works your nipples with his tongue and hand. You clench your thighs together, trying to relieve yourself of some of the tension, but it's not enough.

Aventurine notices. He always does.

"I told you to come back to me when your mouth was ready to work. If you want something, you're gonna have to use it." He said, detaching from your nipple to look down at you.

You breathed hard, something about Aventurine always left you speechless and at his every whim. His aura engulfed you. You were his plaything and you didn't know any other way to be.

He looked down at your lips, pressing his thumb down on the bottom one to open your mouth wider before looking back into your eyes, "Well?"

"I-I want....more.....please." You begged, breathless.

He smirked, "Ask and you shall receive."

His lips came crashing back down onto you, pushing you against the wall with your arms still pinned behind you.

Except this time, his free hand moved down to between your legs, right where you ached the most.

He stroked you over your panties, making you moan into his mouth and buck your hips. Finally.

"Someone's eager." He teased against your lips.

He let go of your hand to take both of his gloves off, sending a shiver down your spine. He only ever took them off when he was going to fuck you.

With his now bare hands he slipped your panties to the side to feel at your wetness, dipping a finger in easily and making you arch your back when he curled it.

He sucked on your neck while he worked you with one finger. It felt good, but you wanted more. As if sensing this, Aventurine whispered into your ear, "If you want more, you're gonna have to let me hear how much you want it," before nipping at it.

Your pussy throbbed, "I want more Aventurine. Please. More." You quietly whined.

"Hm? I can't hear you. I need you to speak louder." he smirked, looking down at you.

You breathed hard as he fingered you a bit faster. Just enough to make you ache even more. To feel what you're missing out on.

"I want more Aventurine." You moaned, louder this time.

Suddenly, two fingers were in you, making you gasp at the added fullness. Curling his fingers every time he pushed them in making you moan loudly.

"See? See what you get when you use that pretty little mouth?" He teased.

You kept moaning as he worked his fingers in and out of you, feeling the pleasure ripple through you with every slide of his digits.

"C'mon, I think you can be louder." He said, adding his thumb to the mix to rub circles on your clit.

"Oh fuck!" You yelled, bucked your hips, panting now. Your wetness was trailing down his wrist and you could feel yourself climbing to your release.

"Just like that, right?" He cooed, relishing in the way you were coming undone on his hand. Curling his fingers and rubbing your clit just how you liked it. It was impossible to control yourself as he fucked you so expertly with his fingers.

"Yes! Yes!" You all but screamed as your orgasm hit you, gripping onto his shoulders as you rode his hand, clenching and unclenching around him.

"Good girl." he whispered, kissing your neck while you rode out your orgasm before removing his fingers.

You were breathing hard as you came down, face flushed.

Aventurine palmed at the aching erection in his pants.

"Let's see what else that lovely mouth of yours can do." He said as he undid his belt and pulled his cock out.

You looked down at it as he stroked his shaft, smearing his precum over it in the process. Your mouth watered at the thought and you sank down onto your knees immediately, looking up at him, waiting for his direction.

"So obedient." he breathed, pushing his tip against your lips, signalling you to open for him.

As soon as you did, he thrust deep into your throat, making you gag. He held himself up against the wall with one hand and held your head with the other, giving him the perfect leverage to piston his hips into your mouth.

You gagged and choked, tears running down your cheeks as he moaned above you, praising you for taking him so fucking well. His pace was brutal, but you did your best to rub your tongue along his shaft and tip, earning a groan from him. It was all you could do to keep your mouth open, breathing hard through your nose as he stuffed your mouth full with his cock.

"Just like that. Keep that pretty mouth open for me." He panted, hips stuttering.

After a few more deep thrusts he was cumming with a groan, hot spurts of it trickling down your throat as you did your best to swallow it all around his dick.

He sighed, releasing your head and slowly pulling out. You did your best to suck and lick his shaft clean before he fully exited.

Once he did, you looked up at him, cheeks wet and lips swollen, breathing hard.

He smiled down at you, wiping at your cheek and then stroking his thumb across your lips, "I knew this mouth would be good to me."

#WHEWWWWWW #lord #i just had this idea and had to run with it lol #aventurine x reader #x reader #aventurine smut #hsr smut #hsr fics #hsr #aventurine #my writing

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shorthairchris · 3 days

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Bite Me - Chris Sturniolo

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Very kinky vampire Chris smut that I had to write the minute I saw this photo. Partly inspired by hbo’s True Blood so if you liked this def give it a try

Contains: vampire!chris, sub!reader, mentions of blood, no use of y/n (you’re welcome), this is kinky so if you’re sensitive don’t read

Summery: you find your best friend Chris sitting alone in the woods, but you soon learn you didn’t know him quite as well as you thought…

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

7:23pm

“Chris?? Are you okay? What’re you doing here?”

I went on a usual evening stroll not too far from my house. The moon replaced the setting sun as I walked through the woods, and to my surprise I stumbled across my best friend sitting on a bench. I know Chris better than anyone, he’s not the kind of guy to just hang in a forest all alone. Something was off.

Chris immediately looked up at me with a look on his face that I couldn’t quite read. It was like he was looking through me. He was pale, his eyes were dark blue and the subtle dark circles under them had a red-ish tone.

“Uh… no no i’m good ma. I’m just..” he squeezes his arm and runs a thumb along his wrist deep in thought. “Just a bit weak.” He almost whispered and turned his head away from me.

His head is low and he groans in slight pain closing his eyes, as i hear him curse under his breath “fuck…”

“You look pale, you probably just haven’t eaten in a long time, we can go to my place.” I smile and signal for him to take my hand. He raises his head to look at me, then my hand as he takes it and stands up in front of me. “your hands are cold.”

He stares deep into my eyes as a smile forms on his face and he runs a tongue across his bottom lip. “They are? Didn’t notice.” He comes closer to me with a mischievous smirk, eyes going to my lips.

I always found Chris insanely hot but didn’t act on it because I wanted to protect our friendship. But now we were looking at each other in a way friends aren’t supposed to. Something about him was different, it was enchanting.

“Chris we should go, we’re not safe here.” It was dark and it was just the two of us alone in the woods. He chuckles lightly at my innocence, “trust me baby, you’re more safe than you think.”

He runs his finger along my side sending chills all over my body. I feel completely powerless, as if I can’t move any part of my body unless Chris is touching me. Our faces are now inches apart, he breathes me in and lets out a light moan, closing his eyes. “Gosh you smell so fucking good.” I can feel his erection brushing my leg as my heat gets wetter with every word coming out his mouth. “And I bet you taste even better.”

With that he smashes his lips on mine and starts kissing me passionately, we both groan into each other’s mouths as I feel his tongue against mine. Chris pulled me close, running his fingers through my hair and placing his hand on my lower back. I whined into the kiss and ran my hands all over his chest needing him more than anything in the world, my pussy now wet and throbbing.

“Chris please, I’m so sensitive…” I say shyly as I can’t take it any longer. Chris lifts my head to look at him and caresses my cheek with his thumb. He smiles to himself knowing how worked up he got me so fast. “I know angel, I know.” his hand travels to my waist, then lowers itself till it reaches my inner thigh under my skirt. “I got you.”

My whines turn into a gasp when he suddenly moves my panties to the side, finds my wet folds and runs his long fingers through them. He moans as he feels my body shaking reacting to his touch. “Soaking wet… fuck” he laughs under his breath as he lets out a soft moan.

“Chris… mmmm baby..” I whimper as his fingers move excruciatingly slow. My entire body is hot and sweaty as I let small cries escape my mouth, missing where I’m needing him most. “Please, I-I need you..”

“Need what, beautiful?” He teases and continues to spread my wet juices all over my pussy, avoiding my throbbing clit. “need…. your fingers inside me… please..”

Chris smiles and hums in satisfaction. “atta girl.” with no warning he shoves two fingers inside of me as I let out a loud moan. He starts pumping them in and out as I scream in pleasure. “fuckkk yes daddy.. just like that”

He curled his fingers deep inside me hitting my g spot every time turning me into a moaning mess. “You’re just a perfect whore for me aren’t you? Letting me fuck my fingers into you in the middle of the woods…” he keeps going faster and harder as I can barley form words “mmmm y-yeah…”

He forces me to look up at him so he can see the fucked out look on my face, “not a single thought in that brain. so gorgeous like this, makes my dick hard.” He moans and buries himself in the crook of my neck.

“You would let daddy bite your neck right angel?” I hum in response giving him full access to my neck. I’ve gotten hickies multiple times so I was used to it by now. He keeps fingering me at a brutal pace getting me closer.

“I promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispered in my ear as I keep moaning from the pleasure. Suddenly I feel a sharp bite, my moan turns into a scream from the unexpected pain. My whole body is getting numb and I hear Chris groaning and moaning into my neck continuing to suck and drink my blood. “Fuckkk you taste incredible…”

The only things I can feel is Chris’ mouth on me and his fingers inside of my pussy. All of a sudden the pain turns into pleasure like I’ve never felt before, as if I wanted him to keep sucking me for the rest of time.

He removed his head from my neck and licked my blood from his lips with a cheeky smile. I’m now more whiny and needy than ever, grasping his chest and biceps needing to feel him. He pulls his fingers out and starts to touch my clit ever so gently as he stares at me intensely with dark pupils. “How did that feel baby girl?”

“Y-you’re….. a v-vampire…..” I say whispering with a mix of moans from the circles he’s drawing on my sensitive bud. “Yeah… but it’s okay, don’t be scared. It won’t hurt you as long as I stop in time.” he said softly while holding my head up and stroking my jaw, “I was turned a while ago but the bite won’t turn you. It usually feels a bit weird at first but once you’re past that it’s like a drug. The blood leaves your body and makes you basically powerless, so the only thing you can feel is my fingers, my mouth, my dick…” he smiles to himself noticing how much it turned me on, my cunt getting more wet by the second.

“Felt… felt really good daddy… please bite me again..” I beg and in response he runs his tongue along his teeth with a giant smirk. “God you really are a slut.” his lets his fangs show and goes back to drinking my blood from my neck.

I let out a pornographic moan as my pussy is a goddamn pool at this point, Chris toying with my clit. Something about giving him my blood somehow sharpened all my other senses. Every small touch, every breath on my skin, every time his finger reached my sensitive spot, it was like electricity going through my body. It was truly euphoric.

I feel him twitching on my leg through the fabric of his pants and boxers, moaning loudly. “Your blood is fucking amazing.” He groans into my neck and quickly unbuttons his jeans to pull out his dick. And holy fuck it was huge. “you ever been fucked by a vampire, princess?” He asks and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his beautiful plump lips now a bit more red.

“N-no… does it hurt?” A tear runs down my face from my pussy being edged for so long. “Yeah it does…” he smiles and wipes away my tear, “but you’ll be daddy’s good girl and take it.” He lines himself up with my entrance under my skirt and slams his dick all the way into me.

We both looked into each other’s eyes and let out loud moans. “Fuck baby you’re so tight..” he lifts up my legs to wrap them around him and keeps fucking me with one hand in my hair and the other on my ass slamming my body against him. His pace is relentless. Being a vampire has its strengths, some of them being inhumanly strong and fast.

“Daddy it’s too much, I-I’m gonna-“ suddenly I scream and feel my orgasm washing over me, my cum spilling out of me all over Chris. “Can’t even last 20 seconds with my cock inside you huh? Useless fucking whore.” He slaps my face and continues pushing himself in and out of my tight walls. A smile spreads across my fucked out face as I feel a mix of overstimulation and pain.

For a second I think he might bruise my cunt from how hard he’s fucking me but I don’t care. “Chris I…” Chris notices me struggling to speak and hides a smile raising an eyebrow, “words. Come on angel need to hear your voice.” He lightly chokes me forcing me to look at him. “I want to be used by you, I-I want you to mark me with your bites, I want to give you my body and my blood, I want you to absolutley ruin me.” I managed to blurt out between thrusts.

Chris’ eyes were now dark with lust, each word sent shivers through his body. He wanted nothing more than to own me. To make me his forever. “You don’t know what you’re asking for gorgeous.” He looks into my soul as he now slowed his pace, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. His best friend, wrapped perfectly around his cock, her nipples hard and showing through her blouse, her hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat, panting and asking him to own her.

“Chris, I would do anything… please.” He stops his thrusts for a moment and stares down at my eyes, then my lips, and my eyes again, thoughts filling his mind.

Suddenly he pulls out his still hard dick and lowers my body to the ground. “Strip.” He orders and I waste no time, first taking off my blouse followed by my skirt and panties. All while never for a second taking my eyes off him. Chris then starts stripping himself of his clothes as well.

“You’re being such a good whore for me, I might go easy on you.” I look up at him innocently, feeling my stomach exploding with butterflies. “Really?” He pulls his long sleeve shirt over his head fluffing out his curls, and comes closer to me, “No. bend over.” His smile now faded and I do as he says, bending over a tree behind me.

His hand strokes my lower back, and I scream as I feel a sharp slap on my ass. Suddenly he pulls me hard by my hair making my eyes tear up and my cunt leak with wetness. “Shut the fuck up. If I hear one more complaint coming out of that pretty little mouth, I’ll be fucking all your holes till the sun rises. s’that clear?” He raised his voice as I feel his massive cock twitching near my heat.

“Mhm” I respond and immediately feel a second harsh slap to my ass, “say yes daddy.” My pussy is now throbbing begging to be filled, “yes daddy.” I say with a slight moan in my voice. “Fucking bitch.” I can hear him smirking as he takes his cock and shoves it deep into me.

“Mmmm fuck I love your cock daddy… i-it’s so big, making me feel so g-good” I moan loudly as my eyes roll to the back of my head. Chris takes both my arms and holds them behind my back with one hand, the other gripping my neck and holding me close to his body as he slams ruthlessly up into me.

“My little personal whore, you were made for me.” He whispers in my ear and covers my mouth to muffle my screams. His dick is now so deep inside of me we’re becoming one.

“This might hurt.” he lifts my arms to his mouth and sticks his fangs into my wrist. I scream into his hand from the sudden pain as he moans drinking every drop of blood coming out of me. “Such a good slut for me. Your pussy feels amazing tightening around my cock.”

I bite my lip as my body goes numb, the pleasure taking over making me high. “Nothing to say? I really fucked you dumb huh? Stupid fucking whore.” He holds me in place now going faster and harder than I’ve ever felt before, our moans mixing together to a beautiful sound.

“Gonna fuck my cum into your pretty cunt, wanna see it filling you while you squirt all over my cock.” I only hum in response unable to speak as he’s holding me close to his chest by my throat. I feel his giant cock slamming inside of me sending me over the edge as I orgasm, my juices spilling out of me onto Chris’ dick, his own orgasm following. “Fuckkk just like that…” he cums deep in my cunt making sure to not waste a drop.

We both catch our breath and he finally pulls out, turning me around to face him. “That was unbelievable.” I say quietly resting my head on his chest, Chris gently stroking my hair. “Really was.” He says and lifts my chin up to kiss me.

The kiss was different this time, my heart felt like it was exploding from the rush, and I could hear his heart beat faster. He moaned into the kiss as he ran his tongue softly along mine, holding my face close. After about a minute we pulled away and I hid my face in the crook of his neck trying to hide my huge smile.

“I love you too.” He says almost whispering, I look at him as we’re both giggling like literal kids. “I didn’t even say anything!” I say smacking his chest as he laughs “you didn’t have to, I can feel it. You’re part of me now angel.” I blush and hide my face in my hands. I’m so in love with this man it’s sickening.

“Come on, let’s get you home baby. It’s not safe here at night.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

This was one of my first times writing and english isn’t my first language so let me know what u think and if u wanna be on the tag list. love ya :)

Tag list: @chrisshotdog @chrisgetsmewetterxo @jayz4dayz4

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matchesarelit · 2 days

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Imagine If You Will... (Brush Name, Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader)

The new gallery space was open, and under everyone's noses a local artist was featured and studied by a enthused debutante.

W.C:~2.3k Warnings: Erotic works, Semi public sexual interaction (no PIV but there is not-so-dry humping), horny paint/art talk, (please let me know if I missed anything)

Your feet were planted solidly on the spot as they had been for the past few too many minutes.

A few steps to the left... and then you were still again, your eyes stuck on yet another hung canvas.

The shades of summer warmed the very air around you, you felt the sand under your toes, the ocean air whipping across your face and whistling past your ears. Your mind was held within the work as you stood there, completely in another world.

The opening of a small wing in the Carroway gallery was hardly a large event in the busy calendar of the Ton, especially when it sat, as it did, between a dozen or so back to back dances, balls and garden parties. There was barely a hundred people milling about the space, and with such grand high ceilings and vast wooden flooring it seemed close to barren.

Walking around the room as you were, other people were barely a consideration as your eyes flickered from one work to another, so a graze of wool sweeping past your bare elbow was a jolt enough to pull your eyes from the wall. The man was speaking, that was for sure, but the words were a flurry of mumblings to your ears, that were still working to tune back in to the world around you.

Your gaze followed the arm by your side, as it pointed about the work, to points and places your eyes never found, too busy working their way backwards towards the man's face. His vest and coat were finely made, the collar of his shirt and the scarf that secured it were very much the same but were overshadowed completely by the flurry that was his Adam's apple as he spoke so vehemently. Finally finding his face you trailed along his jaw, over his lips that danced about impassionedly, up his nose, and settled on his eyes, as fervent as his mouth but with a sparkle that was uniquely his.

'Mr. Bridgerton' Your utterance had interrupted his speech and led his words to a startled end as his flittering stare found you.

Functionally half asleep, you passed by the curtsey you were surely meant to give, and instead followed his arm, still held in gesture, back to the paint strewn canvas.

He greeted you briefly before following your lead and returning his focus forwards, at which point you spoke softly once again; 'I apologise for my absent state. Would you greatly mind repeating yourself?'

He released a chuckle before pausing a moment, seemingly caught in a silent conversation with himself, that concluded in summarising his point. 'I was only stating how enthralling this artist's use of the lighting was, as if the well itself was a set atop a stage, all but commanding our attention, yet I suppose you are my case and point.' His voice flowed like honey lilting over every syllable as he went.

'I suppose I am... You seem much better at keeping yourself grounded.'

'Practice makes perfect, as they say'

'Are there any you have seen that have tempted you today, into breaking that perfect run?' A smile crossed your lips as you kept your eyes fluttering about the space, avoiding the painting itself in an attempt to keep your feet on the ground.

Benedict stood a little taller, casting his gaze about the room a quiet hum sounding from his pursed lips and drawing your own attention. So much so that you had to blink quite a few times to tune back in as he returned his focus to you, the arm that was stretched towards the art was now hooked in your direction.

'Let me show you, hm?' Meeting his eyes you threaded your arm through his and nodded up at him, 'Please,' The word was barely a whisper as it slipped out of your mouth but his soft smile made it apparent he'd heard you clear as day.

His steps were slow, decidedly so, as if he was holding himself back from hurrying to his favoured piece, presumably for the sake of not drawing the full attention of the attendees. Benedict was nodding politely at those you passed, and although you were thankful for his tact, a part of you yearned to witness the full excitement he was so evidently supressing.

The work he brought to you was, by most members of the Ton's opinion, obscene at the very least. That much you had gathered by the wide berth given to the space where the painting hung, and upon settling your eye on it, you caught on to why. Following the strokes, the fleshy tones and the heat of the captured moment, you felt yourself slipping away from where you were and the man who remained intertwined by your side.

It was as if the flesh in front of you was our own, as if you could feel the artists eyes, their brush, tracing the curves of your form, and as your mind fell from its place in the gallery, you began to feel your chest burn.

Your breath grew shorter the longer your eyes rested on the art, this was a change the man by your side took in stride as his own gaze fell from the frame to the placard beneath, wherein the name 'Barnard Blake' sat neatly engraved.

B.B.

He was nothing if not slightly cocky, so yes, despite how seemingly obvious the pen name might appear, it was still the one he chose to use for such pieces that weren't as fit for the eyes of polite society. This moment however was a new one for him; getting to see the reaction people had to his art, and it was a rare treat, even more so, for the viewer to be someone so apparent in their appreciation for the medium.

Benedict watched as your glazed eyes roved the piece, he grew more and more desperate to hear the thoughts that he could feel building within your mind, so with a light hand he ran a path along your skin, hoping to pull you back to the surface.

The heat of his fingers in the chill of the winter air did its job of tearing your focus from the art in front of you, yet as your eyes moved from the wall, it fell to his presence against your flesh. Flickering your eyes back in front of you, the name beneath the the frame rung through your mind, it was one you hadn't heard before and still it prompted a strange sense of Deja vu, one that was echoed again by the touch upon your arm.

'Mr- Benedict, what is it about this that draws your reverie?' You dropped your pretence, in front of a piece like this, one he himself had pulled your attention to, there seemed no need for title or formality.

His eyes seemed to taunt you, never meeting your own but tracing your features lazily as he spoke; 'It feels extensively personal, like the artists eyes are my own.'

'Is that so...' You mused returning your eyes to the work, 'Is that perhaps because they are?'

Benedict's eyes seemed to remain unfazed for a few moments even as his lips formed a question of his own, 'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying...' connecting your eyes with his you watched them shift, as you brought your hand to his, stilling it in its trailed path. 'Bernard, were those lines, those strokes, strewn by these hands?'

'And what if they wer-'

'Say, Bridgerton? Surely you are not exposing this young woman to such profane works?' One Lord Hollowvale had stepped up behind the pair of you, so slipping your arm and hand from his, you withered at the draining warmth as his presence drifted, albeit mere inches from you.

'Of course, Hollowvale, we were simply passing through this part of the collection' Benedict's voice was even and slightly raised as if seemingly fixing himself back to formality.

'Good, good. Anyhow, I've been meaning to speak with you regarding...'

Taking this as a good point of flight you curtseyed your goodbyes and with a brief meeting of Benedict's eyes, you took your leave.

You returned quickly to your prior process of staring and floating away, now, however, the observation was now intercut with moments where you searched the space for his familiar frame. Lord Hollowvale alongside a few other men conversed with him for the following hours, by now you were approaching the last of the paintings, and soon enough you were moving to leave. Against any thought you dawdled as you left, stepping into the hall you trailed the trim of the panelled walls with your eyes, somehow straying even then...

Drifting so much so that you failed to note footsteps, only noting their adjoined figure as his shadow darkened the wood you stood atop.

'Leaving so soon?' Turning your head to the man behind you, you shivered as his touch found the hand by your side. Drawing a line from the tip of your middle finger, over your palm and up your arm, Benedict's touch was like fire tearing your skin asunder and leaving a burning heat in its wake. As his hand raised to toy with the hem of your sleeve your breath caught, and your lungs began to ignite.

'I believe you asked me a question. Care to remind me of it?'

His voice was low, words ghosting past your collarbone as his head dropped down beside your own, seemingly revelling in the lack of thoughts thriving between your ears.

Cobbling together the syllables you could, you spoke, your voice barely a whisper, 'W-was that work, the-the nude, did you paint it?'

It was then his hand delved beneath the fabric of your sleeve, curling around it and slipping it from your shoulder, replacing the silken fabric with his lips against his skin. Benedict's arm sweeping over your front shelved your chest as he grasped your side, his mouth patterning a pillowy trail across to your throat, secured a latch like pucker against your flesh releasing only briefly to murmur out his response.

'And what if I had?' his words rushed air down the front of your dress teasing your bosom with their heat and running a titillating sensation up your spine.

'Then I would label you lewd, and rakish for exposing me to such debauchery.' Your words sounded unsure of yourself despite any inward conviction.

'You would shame me so publicly? Call me such things with my lips on your skin? With my hands upon your body?' He emphasised his words with an open-mouthed press of his lips and a squeeze of his hands, the other of which had snuck to grip the fabric on your hip, bunching it up between his fingers.

'I would not' The chuckle that hummed against your neck spurred you further, 'For then I would have to submit myself to that same title.' At this Benedict raised his head, leaving in his wake, a chill as the air brushed over the memory of his kiss. His grasp spun you beneath him, pulling your front to his own as your eyes met once again.

'You never said what you thought of the painting, what you felt as you fell into the work. I watched it happen and I admit, watching you trace my lines with your eyes as your mind drifted was an indecently captivating sight.'

'I-I was feeling your touch, your brush against my skin, your eyes covering every inch of my body. It was what clued me in to you, your touch on my arm, drawing across my skin. It was identical. Had you paint on your fingers I was sure you would coat me all the same.'

'Is that what you want? My mark upon your flesh, adorning you head to toe?' Benedict was teasing that was for sure, but the look in his eyes let you know there was no word he did not intend to follow through on.

'Y-yes Bene-Benedict I-' Your words fell short as his hand at your hip began gathering more and more of the fabric of your dress, tugging it higher and higher until that side was all but bare, the skirt collected at your hip. Looking down at the space by your feet, you watched as his leg snuck between your own, the harsh cloth grazing the sensitive surface of your inner thigh and pulling the air from your lungs in a shuddering exhale.

'Yes what lovely?' His tone was even and his lips stamped the corner of your mouth as he awaited your breathless answer,

'I want your touch, and everything it leaves. I want you closer.' The words were rushed, tumbling from your lungs between pants.

His hold on you drew you closer as his lips pushed against your own and as your hips dragged over his leg, the knitted material drawing a whimper from your throat that fell right into his mouth. Your hand clutched his shoulder in a scramble for balance, leaning completely into Benedict as the sensation between your legs sent a delicious heat throughout your body that warmed the very air around you. Shifting slightly as you breathed your way through the overwhelming feeling, you moved back and forth over the meat of his thigh the drag eliciting the most intense desire in your stomach.

Your eyes, screwed shut in the heat of the moment, darted open as Benedict dropped his leg from your core, the wetness clinging to your skin was set alight by the chill of the winter air. Senses shocked and desperate for more your voice whined, 'Benedict P-please, stay.'

looking to his face as the weight of your dress fell back into place, you followed his sight down to his leg, where a darkened stripe had been drawn the length of the cloth. 'Oh-Oh I'm so Sorry.' Tilting your head back up to his own, he connected your lips once more before wordlessly tugging his scarf from his collar and pressing it to the wet patch.

'It will stain...' you trailed off, your cheeks burning with heat, that only grew worse as the man above you met your statement with a raised brow, a wicked smirk and the muttered,

'Will it now?'

Benedict was much too joyous at the ruin of his pants in your opinion, but how could he complain. If you were willing to bear his marks he was happy to wear yours.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut

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dandelions-143 · 3 days

Text

Games

Pairing: Jeongin x f!reader

Genre: smut and angst

Warnings: Very very very mild Agonophilia, mild Ravishment, tiny bit of blood, cussing. Let me know if I missed anything

A/N: I hope this ones enjoyable. Let me know what you think! Reblogs are highly appreciated. Also tag list is open for any and all of these! Just comment or message me!

Masterlist

“Oh don’t be such a pussy, Y/n.” Your best friend, Seungmin said as you stood at the entrance of an empty hotel. Hotel Athens had been a very popular place for the towns affluent and rich to congregate throughout the 19th century. But as the 20th century approached those same very rich and powerful people began to spend more time in the city. So the once very prominent Hotel Athens was now only just an empty building, left to rot holding only the ghosts of its past with in it.

So to find yourself standing at the entrance of such a place, it’s large metal gates that had once been chained now standing wide open like a gaping mouth ready to devour you.. this was not the way you had planned on spending your Saturday night.

You sighed and took your steps forward to follow Seungmin closely, “I’m not a pussy, I just have some sense about me.” You lightly smacked his shoulder and fell into a cautious step beside him. You and Seungmin had been best friends since grade school. He the quiet type, preferring books and video games over people and you the feisty loner preferring anything else over people were a friendship made in heaven. That is until you went off to college in the city and he stayed within the confines of the small town you once called home.

Seungmin had conned you into a night out with him and his new found friends, promising a marathon of your favorite 80’s slasher movies if you would attend this very stupid game of hide and seek.

You had heard a great deal about these new people Seungmin was hanging out with and none of it was good. You even knew a few of them, only because they were in the same graduating class as you. They were all sons of the filthy rich in town. People you had no interest in whatsoever, just bored rich kids doing as they please.. no matter the consequences.

Seungmin handed you a small flashlight as he held open the heavy door that led into what used to be to be the lobby of this sprawling hotel. Time and neglect had obviously taken its toll on the place, dirt and grime covering the floor, spiderwebs hanging in various corners. Old furniture tattered and torn by animals you had assumed, and then there was the vandalism. Ugly words and pictures spray painted across the walls and windows.

“This place.. I’ve seen pictures of how it use to look when it was open and it use to be beautiful.. why would anyone want to mess that up?” You mumbled more to yourself than to your best friend who had his attention elsewhere. When he did not respond you cast your gaze in the direction he was suddenly headed.

In the middle of the lobby sat a very handsome man, a lit cigarette between his long slender fingers, a black hoodie covering him but you could make out a few small tattoos on his hand and fingers. You assumed that had to be one of Seungmins new friends. You were not enthused at all, so you stayed put by the entrance as you watched the two converse in a familiar way. As if they had known one another for ages.

Seungmin pointed in your direction and the man’s dark eyes shifted to you, they seemed to narrow even more as if he were assessing you. “Hey Y/n, come here!” Your best friend called and you huffed out an annoyed breath before slowly making your way over to them. “Jeongin, this is Y/n. My friend I told you about.” Jeongin let his eyes follow the lines of your body, as if he were a predator assessing his prey for the night.

Before another word could be said loud laughter, yells, and footsteps began to echo through the pitch black halls. The only lights in the place were the battery generated ones that sat in the main lobby and the flashlights people had. “The fun’s about to start.” Jeongin finally spoke, his eyes staying only on you. You suddenly felt uncomfortable, your hands becoming clammy and fidgety under his intense gaze.

You grabbed Seungmins hand and yanked him from the couch pulling him away from Jeongin and the seven other men that seemed to descend from the darkness to gather around him. All in black clothing, holding what seemed to be masks. Some were tattooed and some were not. You recognized some of them, Chris and Minho, as well as Changbin. The others you had seen but didn’t know who they were exactly.

“I want to go home.” You stated in a low mumble to Seungmin, tugging at his shirt sleeve. “Oh come on, it will be fun. They told me it’s harmless and anyone can leave whenever they want to.” He placed a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries but you could still feel Jeongins heated haze on you. You opened your mouth to protest further but just then a loud clap and then Chris stepped forward his voice booming through the open space.

He was good looking as well.. in fact all of them were very handsome. Chris had a sleeveless black shirt on making sure to show off his toned arms that were covered in tattoos. The last time you saw him he didn’t have as many of them and he now had a shiny little nose piercing. You couldn’t deny that he looked good but, from what you knew of his family and the way he acted in school.. you wanted no part of him or his friends.

“We have a good turn out tonight it seems, thanks for coming. Now i would explain the rules but there are none.” He chuckled softly and so did a couple of the guys behind him. He sounded polite enough, harmless even but you knew better. “It’s simple, you all hide and we..” he gestures to himself and the guys behind him. “Seek.” A girl with short bleach blond hair spoke up, “and what happens when you catch us?”

Your eyes locked with Jeongins this time, as if a magnetic force kept pulling you towards him. Your eyes grew wide with a mix of fear and excitement as he pointed towards you and mouthed the word “Mine”.

Chris’s steady voice replied with a simple, “we do whatever we want with you, babe.” A sly smirk spread across his full lips, transforming his very handsome features into something more devilish, sinister. “Don’t worry we’ll give you all a head start.” Then as abruptly as he had started Chris yelled, “Lights off!” Just then all the lights except the remaining flashlights shut off and Let The Bodies Hit the floor began to blare from speakers in the room.

You couldn’t see two feet in front of your face, playful screams and running footsteps could be heard around you, fading into the darkness. Your heart beat loudly in your ears, fear consuming you at first, making it difficult to move your feet. You reached out for Seungmin but only found cold air, “Seungmin! Fuck.. you idiot, where are you!” Your calls for your best friend were unanswered.

Realizing the only way out of this stupid game was to get yourself out you began to move, turning on your flashlight helped. The couch that the men had been sitting on was now empty.. the word “mine” echoed throughout your head. He was probably just trying to scare you. You pushed through your muddied thoughts of Jeongin and made your way in what you thought was the direction of the main door.

Within minutes you knew you were wrong. It seemed to get darker the deeper into the building you went. The music faded a bit as your feet carried you on, hoping to find another way out. As you turned a corner, the light from your flashlight caught something. A figure leaned up against the wall, lit cigarette in hand. The person turned their face to you but it was covered with a black mask.

When he dropped his half smoked cigarette on the floor you bolted in the opposite direction. Hoping to lose him in the darkness. You found an open door and fled inside, shutting off your flashlight and pressing yourself between a naked mattress and a dresser, hoping to not be caught. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you tried to control your nerves.

It was only made worse when you heard the door shut and heavy boot clad footsteps drew closer to you. “Y/n, come out. I won’t hurt you.. I only want to play.” That voice.. metallic and smooth, you knew it was Jeongin and you covered your mouth with your trembling hand.

It was so dark in that room it seemed black. You could see him, only hear him moving around. You were certain he couldn’t see you and he would eventually get bored and move on.. that’s not what happened. Jeongins footsteps stopped right at your own feet. You could smell his cologne, a mix of spices and musk. “There you are, gorgeous.” He spoke tenderly but there was something else in his voice.. something dark.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you into him. You began to fight with everything you had in you. Pushing and shoving against him as much as you could. It only made him laugh and hold onto you tighter. The lingering smell of cigarette smoke mixed with Jeongins cologne as he moved his face closer to yours. “You’re a feisty little one aren’t you?” He breathed against your lips, only a whisper away from kissing you.

Even though you were fighting him off a part of you didn’t want his warmth gone. You anticipated what would come next.. it was a scary thrill..

“That’s it.” He cooed softly and walked you back towards the wall until you were firmly pressed against it. Jeongin pulled off his mask throwing it to the floor. “Are you going to be like all the others and let this happen?” He questioned. You didn’t know if he was actually asking you but, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought it would beat right out of it.

Jeongin then pressed his warm lips to yours, kissing you deeply, possessively as if he owned you. Your knees weakened just a little and when he pulled away you felt yourself wanting those soft lips back on yours again. “Just like all the others.” He muttered before taking your lips hungrily, kissing you in a way no one had ever kissed you before. Greedily taking what he wanted.

His words did not sit well with you, just like the others? You thought to yourself and that’s when the fog was lifted from your haze just a little and you began to fight him again. You shoved him hard catching him off guard and making him stumble back a bit. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to make out a mischievous grin spread over his handsome features.

Jeongin seemed to enjoy the fact that you kept fighting him off. He came at you again, pressing his body into yours and gripping your wrists at your side so you couldn’t shove him anymore. His hungry lips found your neck, kissing and sucking at the tender skin there, even though the wetness between your thighs grew you kept trying your damndest to fight him off.

The odd thing was.. even though you kept fighting you never once used your voice to tell him to stop. At this point with his hard body pressed into yours. His hips now pressed into your spread legs.. did you even want him to stop?

The only sound that came from you was a gasp when you felt him bite down on your collarbone. It was a marvelous pain and you wanted more. Jeongin seemed to read your mind because he pulled you off the wall and shoved you hard onto the mattress. He stood over you for a moment, knowing he was the only one in control here no matter how hard you fought.

“Come here little one.. I’m not done playing yet.” His menacing voice lingered with your heavy breathing as he removed his belt fluidly with one hand before coming down on top of your body. You were covered in sweat and even though you wouldn’t admit it.. you craved to have your clothes off.. body pressed to his again. You wanted to see if he had more tattoos than just the ones on his hand.

Even though your body was reacting to him in the most feral way you kept moving, pushing him off, wiggling away from his grip. You were not going to make this easy for him. You turned your head to either side as he tried to kiss you again and when he did finally catch your lips you allowed him to kiss you. His hips bucking up into yours. Pressing his very prominent erection against your clothed cunt.

The friction was not enough, you wanted more. You seemed to be just a greedy as he was. Your lips kissing back furiously, wet tongues colliding with one another as you both wrestled for dominance. “Ahh, fuck!” Jeongin pulled back and you could taste a metallic tinge on your tongue.

You had bit him and you bit him hard, he hovered over you, out of breath and staring at you, taken back by your actions. “What, you can’t handle a little blood?” You asked, looking up at him defiantly.

That’s when something shifted in Jeongins eyes and he no longer held back. His large slender hands found the hem of your white T-shirt and ripped it off you exposing your heated skin to the cold, crisp air. You managed to tangle your fingers in his hair and you pulled hard making his head snap back before his lips could touch you.

The cruel bastard only smiled in the most sadistic manner before he forcefully pulled your hands back, caging you against the mattress and held you in place. He was no longer playing by the way he held you easily with one hand and the other yanked at your jeans, successfully pulling them down, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties.

“Be a good slut and let me look at you, little one.” Jeongins eyes roamed over your body but, you were hell bent on defying him. He was not going to win. This seemed to only amuse him as you thrashed beneath him. You never screamed though, never told him to stop. It was a very dangerous push and pull between you two in this moment.

Jeongins heated lips found yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. You didn’t know when he had time to free his hard cock but, you could now feel it

slide up your inner thigh and your body responded with a slight thrust of your hips. You hated it and loved it at the same time. The feel of him on top of you, his heat between your legs starting a fire in you that you let burn freely.

You could still taste the salty blood on his lips as you kissed him as if your life depended on it. Jeongins hand tightened on your wrists so he could push your panties to the side with his free one. They were soaked with your juices and he smiled against your lips knowing he was the reason behind it. “So fucking sexy and all mine.”

That’s when you felt him push into you, fast and hard. Greedily taking exactly what he wanted. No condom, nothing between you two. For the first time you made a sound, crying out as his length stretched you, an exquisite pain as he pulled out and slammed back into you.

You bucked your hips not knowing if you were still fighting him or seeking more of that lovely pain. His eyes watched your face twist in beautiful agony, his breath fanning over your swollen lips as he fucked you hard.

“Let me hear you, little one. Scream for me.” He mumbled against your lips. Your mouth wide open and eyes closed as you arched your back, pressing your stomach against his… you trying to calm the burn inside your body, that string pulling tight in your lower abdomen.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum.. or making you scream for him. His hands let go of your wrists only to hold your hips down in place on the mattress so he could fuck you as hard as he wanted. His balls slapping against you as he drove into you bottoming out over and over again.

Your juices making it so easy for him to slip into you, filling you up so well. You couldn’t help it , your body was reacting to his and the way he stared at you drove you insane, watching each expression move across your pretty face. “Fuck!.. Jeomgin!” you cried out as your legs began to shake and you gripped at his back pulling him closer to you. You tried so hard to hold on to your orgasm and not let him win. Within seconds you were moaning as that delicious feeling took over you, and your walls squeezed right around Jeongins thick cock. Orgasm was long and the best you had felt in so long.

His moans were just as loud as your cries and just when you thought he was about to explode Jeongin pulled out of you spurting his hot seed all over your lower stomach and red sensitive pussy.

You lay there trying to catch your breath and he sat back looking at you. Not a word being uttered between you two until he slowly stood and pulled his pants back up. Jeongin pulled off his shirt and dropped it on your chest. “Clean yourself.” He then leaned down, kissed your lips one last time, “Thanks little one.” He whispered before heading for the door.

You sat up instantly covering yourself, “That’s it?!” You asked incredulously. “You fuck me then bolt!” He stopped and stood in the doorway pulling out a cigarette and putting it between his swollen and bitten lips, “That’s it for now.. but don’t forget, little one. You’re mine.”

With a cocky grin that spread across his face making him look like a little boy he winked at you and was gone.

You got dressed and slowly stood on shaky legs all the whole cursing him and yourself for letting him do those things to you and knowing deep down you liked it. “Y/n! There you are.” Seungmins familiar voice filled the room making you jump a little. “What happened to you?” He stepped closer and pushed back a few strands of your hair that had fallen in your face.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” You swatted his hands away and began to walk towards the door. “You have marks on your neck and face.” You touched your face only then noticing the marks on your wrists. “I’m fine, Jesus stop being so nosy. I’m ready to go home.” Your best friend gave a weary look. He obviously didn’t believe you but he didn’t question you anymore. He took you home and all the while you were seething with anger and hurt.

The only comforting thought.. you would probably never see Jeongin again.. or so you thought.

Tags: @moonndustx

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magnificentstrawberryomen · 3 days

Text

Indiposed (Noah Sebastian fanfic)

18+

Autors note: hi, thank you sm for taking the time to read my story! please let me know what u think of it. also, english is not my first language so i'm sorry if there will be any grammar and/or spellings mistakes, im trying my best :)

Summary: Hailey Clark is Noah's dressing assistant, and has been working for him and the rest of Bad Omens for half an year now. Hailey and Noah have always been attracted to each other, making teasing and sometimes flirtatious jokes back and forth, and became very close and caring for each other since the start of Hailey working for them. They always waited for that one right moment to finally give in to their desire for each other, but there hasn't been one yet, also with the fear of others and their management. Until that one after party after a succesful show arrives and they simply cannot hide their feelings for oneanother anymore, with all its consequences...

CW/TW's throughout the story: Smut, sexual talk, mentioning religion, mention of ed and (bad) mental health/depression, bad relationship with parents/family, christian family history, alcohol use, smoking (cigarettes) [if i forgot something please let me know]

prologue

The sigh that escaped from my mouth wasn't as calm as I hoped to be. I have been looking everywhere for my just newly bought makeup brushes that I've just used for Jolly half an hour ago. How the hell did I already lose them? Lead singer Noah Sebastian-basically the star of the show-is the last band member left for makeup and dressing. Of course.

I've been their personal makeup and dressing assistant for half a year now. The job pays quite well, I was already very impressed by the band and their music before doing this and I can do something I love every day, so I've been feeling very thankful for being able to do this. Through the last six months I have built a very close bond and friendship with the band and the rest of the crew, something that has helped even more with doing this every day.

Tonight will be a pretty big show, so being stressed is an understatement right now. I am quite the perfectionist, so my makeup brushes suddenly missing now is just as chaotic in my head as how the dressing room currently is. `Goddamnit,´ I curse to myself.

`Seems like someone is in need of some assistance,´ I hear Noah saying, so I turn around to look at him with hopeless eyes. A grin is appearing on his face as he walks over to me, and I have no energy right now to make a remark back to him. That's quite how our friendship has been built up to-make (sarcastic, playful or mostly from Noah's side, sassy) remarks to each other, teasing, or mess with each other. Sure, we can have some normal conversations as well, but we love to get to each other most of the time.

I can tell he freshly washed his mid-length hair as it is still a little damp, and it covers his eyes for a moment so he pushes it back with his hand. He wears a simple black shirt and short pants, with half-worn sneakers underneath and a bottle of water in his other hand where he has drinked out before.

`You are the last member I need to style. I can't seem to find my damn brushes anywhere…´

`Relax, darling, you'll be fine. Maybe I can help you with your brush set?´ he says in a sort of playful way, and I quickly roll with my eyes, not in the mood to joke about it right now.

`Please, Noah, I'm trying not to freak out. You should know by now how important being organized and scheduled is to me. You guys have to go up on stage in like…´ I look at the watch on my right wrist, and my eyes grow wide. `An hour and a half. Oh shit.´

`Well, that's a lot of time darling, what's the rush?´ Noah answers, looking at his own watch himself, and then back to me. His face remains calm, and I know he is saying this and acting like this to keep me calm and focused myself. I know he can be a little control freak himself, but he has gotten pretty good at making sure I am more stable before him. He knows how my brain works by now, and I have always found it a sweet gesture that he cares more about my own sanity most of the time than his.

`Well, everything just has to go…´

´Perfectly. I know,´ he finishes my sentence before I can. Like I said, he knows me too well by now.

`And it won't be without those brushes?´ Noah raises his eyebrows slightly with the corners of his mouth slightly curled.

`Noah, think about the lighting. The different kinds of colors, the almost 2 hours you guys have to perform-no offense but, that sweat needs to be at least a little bit covered. And then there's your outfit…´ I ramble on, and I know that I might sound insane, but I don't care at this moment-I just want my makeup set to be complete, goddamnit.

He slightly chuckles, and says: `Fine, fine, let's go look for your brushes…´

He moves closer to me and puts my hand on my hip while doing so, a little amused smile now forming on his lips.

`Focus,´ I mumble, trying to ignore his touch. I must admit that sometimes, moments like these are hard to resist for me. We have not only built a great friendship in the last half year, but also a kind of mutual attraction to each other. There have been moments where we can be touchy, sometimes n79t even thinking much about it or realizing it-and no one has really reacted weird to it, not even the rest of the band or the crew. They have gotten used to it by now, and so have we. But, sometimes the touch can be or feel a little… intense. I can feel myself wishing for more, I can feel the tension in the air, I can see the twinkle and desire in his eyes… and I am sure I have looked at him the same way every time. We never really had a moment to act into it, or the confidence, I guess. We just let it happen and let it go after. Well, also because I want to at least try to keep our relationship still a little bit professional as well, since I love this job and I do not want to lose it.

Noah rolls his eyes and removes his hand from my hip, and just as he does that, he takes the warmth of his body with him, but he doesn't move away from me. `Yeah, yeah, I'm focused… lead the way,´he responds with a playful grin on his face, moving just a little closer to still feel his proximity.

I tell him spots to look at, and at some point I am even looking through my own damn lunchbox, but I sigh out of relief when I find the brushes in a not well lit corner of the dressing room (are we surprised that their dressing rooms are mostly very dark?) underneath a pile of random clothes I tried on Jolly before. `I got them,´ I say with a relieved, tired smile. I'm surprised that they even got here, since I am usually very organized, but I think that I got them there out of a blur of stress-some shows just give me more stress than the others.

`There you go! See, you really didn't need to be all stressed out. How many times do I tell you that you are always more worked up than you actually have to be? Or is this an excuse to just spend some more time with me?´ he responds teasefully, and I roll with my eyes while holding back a smile. I can tell he is excited and looks forward to the show from tonight-which I do not blame him for, they will be performing for one of their biggest crowds.

`No Noah, I'm doing what I am getting paid for. Now sit,´ I demand him and pat the makeup chair.

`Do I get a say in this, or should I just comply from the get go?´ he asks me with a raised eyebrow, his smirk growing a bit wider as he slowly sits down on the chair.

`I think you should shut your ignorant mouth and let me do my thing,´ I jokingly said, but also really, really wanted to start now because time is ticking by.

Of course his smirk only grows bigger because of that comment, I should have known. `Yes ma'am…´ he says in a sarcastic way, moving his head closer to me with his eyes closed so I can finally start my work.

While I do so, I furrow my eyebrows in concentration like I always do, taking some sips of water in between, since this arena is not really cool with the warmth of outside to say the least. `Almost done,´ I let Noah know.

He sits perfectly still while he watches me, the silence only interrupted by the sound of the music from the opening act, coming from the main stage. I can notice him taking in the details of my face, something I sometimes catch him doing, and it makes me swallow while I try to focus on the finishing touches.

`How much longer until you're done?´ he asks after a minute, I guess to get out of the silence a bit.

`Done,´ I say right after that, stepping back to look at him for the last time and then nod, to give reassurance to myself.

`And just like that she's done,´ he says while getting up from the makeup chair, and he smiles at me after. `You're always doing a good job at this, I hope you know that.´

I smile at him, needing to look up since he is taller than me. `Thank you Noah.´ I turn around and get out a rack with his clothes. `Now all that's left to do is to get you into your clothes.´

I can notice that Noah can't hide his own stress anymore, because he sighs and looks at the time on his phone.. `Yeah, let's do that.´ He walks toward the clothing rack to put his first outfit on, and while doing so he looks at me. `Will you be there by the side stage to watch us?´

`Yes, tonight I will be,´ I smile. `Can't miss one of you guys biggest shows.´

Noah looks at me with a thankful and kind of relieved face, nodding and when he starts putting his clothes on, I try not to get distracted by his torso, his biceps, his tattoos… like I said before, one night it's easier than the other. I can tell that he notices me struggling, because a smooth smirk is appearing from time to time on his face. Asshole.

He cracks his fingers and neck when he is fully dressed, something I always try not to cringe about because of the sound. He quickly looks at me in an apologizing manner, and then again at the time on his phone after. `Well… I should go to the other guys. Show is almost about to start.´

`Yes, good luck Noah,´ I say with a smile while leaning into him for a hug, something that has become a ritual every night for us by now. `You got this. You always do.´

He hugs me back tightly, his other hand moving and holding the back of my neck as well. `Thank you, Hailey,´ he quietly whispers in my ear, letting go of me after a few seconds. `It'll be one hell of a show.´

The corners of my mouth rise again. `It will be.´

`And I hope to see you after it too? Because the show is not the only thing that'll be one hell of a hit tonight,´ he adds with a grin.

`The after party of course,´ I say, and to be honest I had been kinda forgetting about it, my focus was too much on making everyone's look as perfect as possible. `Yeah, I will be there.´

I can see that he wants to continue this conversation by the way his lips part again, him being distracted by the idea of the afterparty, so I quickly pat his head and say: `Now, get out of here. Go rock the show like you always do.´ I even start pushing him towards the exit, which makes him let out a laugh.

`Okay okay, damn. Don't worry-I'll make sure to give them a night they'll never forget.´

Little do I know, that it indeed will be a night the both of us will never forget, or be able to.

#noah sebastian #noah #noah bad omens #bad omens #noahsebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfiction #fanfiction #romance #smut #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian smut #18+ only #18+ content #18+ story #story #reading #tumblr fanfic #badomenscult

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sequinsmile-x · 3 days

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Some Things Are Meant to Be - Part 3

She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in two decades staring right back at her.

A sequel to Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

Part 3/3

Part 1 -x- Part 2

-x-

Hi friends,

Sorry for the slight wait on the final part of this!

I really hope you like this...there are a LOT of mommy issues because I got carried away as usual.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It feels like she’s stepped back in time.

The house looks the same, as if it hadn’t been 20 years since she’d last been here. She’d never liked being here. It had never felt like home even though it was the closest she’d ever had to one before she lived with Aaron. It was the ‘home base’, the place where she and her parents would come back to after months away, usually only for a month or two at most. It was a house, but it had never been a home.

She hated it. Hated what it represented, what she could have had if her parents were different. What she was giving her girls and what she’d spend her entire life protecting so they knew they were loved.

She blows out a shuddering breath and she jumps a little when she feels Aaron wrap his hand around hers. Her smile falters when she turns to look at him, a shake to it that he wasn’t used to.

“We can just go home,” he offers, lifting their joint hands and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “We can just turn around and go home, pretend this never happened.”

She loves him for suggesting it, for loving her enough to suggest it. She leans in and stamps a kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment before she rests her forehead against his, “That’s sweet but I have to know what they want.”

He knew her well enough to know it would drive her crazy if she never found out, if she simply ignored the email her mother had sent a week ago. It already had been driving her crazy. She hadn’t been herself this week, had been more irritable than usual - short-tempered with anyone other than him and the girls. He knew the girls had noticed it too. Evelyn was on her best behaviour, any usual teenage angst nowhere to be found, concern in her dark eyes whenever she looked at her mother. Hazel and Mae understood less of what was going on, but they were sticking closer to Emily even more than usual, demanding her love and attention at any given moment.

Emily hesitates as she reaches for the doorbell, blowing out a steady breath before she presses it. Aaron watches as her armour goes up. Thick, almost impenetrable walls he hadn’t seen in years as a fake smile spreads across her face when the front door opens. It’s the version of her he met all those years ago.

The version he’d fallen in love with in this very house.

“Miss Emily,” the housekeeper says as she smiles, pulling the door open so they can step into the house, “It’s been a long time.”

“Hi Vanessa,” she says, smiling tightly, “It’s nice to see you,” she adds, looking around the foyer, wondering how nothing had changed, “Are they…”

“The ambassadors are in the formal living room,” Vanessa says, her smile getting slightly brighter when she looks at Aaron, an edge of I knew it curved into its corners, “Nice to see you again Agent Hotchner.”

Aaron clears his throat, hiding a smile he worries isn’t appropriate, and nods, “You too, Vanessa.”

Vanessa waves them through and Emily blows out a slow breath as they walk slowly through the house. She squeezes her husband's hand and lowers her voice, purposely talking quietly so they aren’t overheard.

“Is it just me or does it seem exactly the same?”

“Not just you, sweetheart,” he assures her, “It’s like a time capsule,” he says, winking at her when he turns to look at her, desperate to try to ease some of the tension he can sense in her, “Might even find our old make-out spots.”

She chuckles and smiles gratefully at him but any further conversation is cut off as they walk into the living room. For a moment she doesn’t feel like the confident 43-year-old she is, instead she feels like she’s 23 again and just about to be cut off by the people sitting in front of her.

“Mom,” she says, briefly looking at her mother before she looks at her father. John Prentiss hadn’t aged as well as Elizabeth had, and it made Emily realise just how much of each other's lives they’d missed. “Dad.”

She sits down before either one of them can attempt to hug her, the forced nature of it too much for her to handle. Aaron follows her lead and sits next to her, his thigh pressed against hers as their joint hands fall into her lap.

“I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”

Emily narrows her eyes at her mother and swallows thickly, “Aaron is my husband,” she says, her gaze unrelenting, “He has been for a long time.”

“How long have you been married?” John asks, genuine interest in his voice that Emily doesn’t think he deserves.

“17 years,” Aaron answers when she doesn’t, his grip on her hand firm as she looks at the ground, her stomach bubbling over with anxiety and anger she can’t control.

“That’s a long-”

“Why are we here?” Emily asks, her head snapping up as she looks at them, “You want something. You didn’t ask me to come here just to pass the time of day,” she says, staring them down, “What do you want?”

Elizabeth and John look at each other and Emily watches as they have a silent conversation. She’d sat opposite them countless times before in moments like this when she’d been in trouble as a child or as a teenager. Eventually, they turn to look at her, and Elizabeth folds her hands in her lap.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Emily sighs and closes her eyes, shaking her head as she bites back a knowing laugh. “Which one?” She gets a sense of satisfaction at the shock that crosses over both of her parent’s faces when she asks the question she already knows the answer to, “We have three.”

She watches as her mother controls her reaction, her lips pressed together before she continues, the tension in the room increasing with each passing second.

“Obviously, we mean the one I saw you with since we didn’t know you had more than one,” she says tightly, “I asked around,” Elizabeth says, a smile that had a little too much pride in it for Emily’s liking spreading across her face, “Evelyn apparently shows a real aptitude for politics. Given our connections, we could help her get ahead. She may not have the Prentiss name but she has the talent.”

It’s exactly why Emily thought her mother had reached out to her, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. The confirmation stinging deep in her gut as she realises neither of her parents had even asked about their other granddaughters. They hadn’t sought out any other information beyond the fact they existed. She chokes on a humourless laugh and shakes her head as she stands up, turning her back on her parents for a moment as she takes a breath. Aaron reaches for her hand and she squeezes it before she turns back.

“Hazel and Mae.”

Elizabeth frowns at her, “What-”

“Our other kids,” she says, staring at them, 20 years of pent-up fury coming to a boil in her stomach, “Their names are Hazel and Mae. Not that you asked. But those are their names.”

John sighs, “Emily, wait a second-”

“Hazel is so good at drawing. She has been ever since she could pick up a crayon,” she says, cutting her father off, her hand tight around Aaron’s who is now also standing next to her, “She’s 10. It’s crazy how good she is, and a little scary because I look at the stuff she brings home from school and I can only imagine what she’ll be capable of when she’s older,” she adds, unable to stop now she’d started, wanting them to feel nothing other than shame that they’d missed out on everything because of their own short-sightedness, “And Mae, she’s 5 and she’s so caring. If any of the other kids fall over at recess she’s there with them before the teacher is, trying to cheer them up and make them feel better,” her chest heaves and she shakes her head, “Do they deserve your attention too? Or is your desire to know Evelyn borne out of nothing more than the fact she’s what you wish I’d been.”

“Emily, you’re being sensitive-”

“I’m not…I’m not doing this. You are not doing this. We can all go back to the way things were a week ago,” Emily says, shaking her head, “I am not letting you have anything to do with them.”

Elizabeth sighs and shakes her head, “First you walk away from all the opportunities we could have given you for a man,” she says, her eyes flicking to Aaron, “And now you’re refusing to allow your own daughter to have them because of your own stubbornness.”

Aaron feels a wave of protectiveness wash over him, pushing him forward as he stands in front of his wife, his jaw tight, “You can’t talk to her like that.”

“Aaron,” Emily says, placing her hand on his chest, shaking her head ever so slightly so only he can see, “It’s okay,” she waits for him to nod, although he doesn’t step back, and then she turns back to Elizabeth, “I am making the decision I think is right for my daughter. If she wants to do anything different when she turns 18 that’s her call, but for now, I get to decide what I protect her from - and that includes you.”

John scoffs and shakes his head, “20 years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I have changed, Dad,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I am an excellent FBI agent. I am a wife and a mother and I like to think I’m pretty good at that too,” she bites the inside of her cheek, unsure whether to say what she wants to next, but deciding that she should, well aware this would likely be the last time she’d speak to them if she had anything to do with it, “And for the record, I didn’t walk away for a man. I did it for me. That would have been true whether Aaron and I worked out or not,” she swallows thickly and turns to look at Aaron, “We should go.”

Elizabeth stands up, “Now, Emily, we just want a moment to discuss this.”

She looks back at her mother and shakes her head, “You’re about 20 years too late to discuss my life with me,” she looks at Aaron again, “Can we go?”

He nods and places his hand on her lower back as he starts to lead her out of the house. He casts a glance back over his shoulder at his in-laws, the people who had deemed him not good enough for the woman he loved, and he throws them a small nod, something he hopes they take as an assurance he’d look after her. Just like he always had.

Emily doesn’t say anything as they get in the car, her jaw clenched and tight as she clips her seatbelt into place. He reaches over the centre console and places his hand on her knee, squeezing tightly.

“Em-”

“They didn’t even really want to see me,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “If I’d walked into her alone…” she drifts off and clears her throat as she looks out of the window, “Can we just go home, please?”

He stares at her side profile for a moment and he leans in and kisses her temple before he starts the engine, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

___

December 1999

Emily hums a nursery rhyme as she paces the living room, her lips against her daughter’s forehead as she tries to get her off to sleep. She groans as she tilts her head to look at Evelyn and sees she’s still awake, the four-week-olds dark eyes still wide open as she snuggles against her mother’s chest.

“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, rubbing circles on the baby’s back, “Please go to sleep.”

“She wants to see in the new millennium.”

She smiles as she turns to look at her husband, raising an eyebrow as he walks towards them, placing a bottle of sparkling cider and two champagne flutes on the coffee table as he makes it to their side. The television was on, but the sound was off, the celebrations in Times Square up on the screen for them to barely pay attention to.

“You can drink actual champagne, you know,” she says, stamping her lips against his before she can continue to pace, knowing Evelyn would never fall asleep if she stood still for too long, “Just because I’m Evie’s personal dairy cow doesn’t mean you can’t ring in the new year without real alcohol.”

“It wouldn’t feel right, sweetheart,” he says, leaning back against the couch, his arms crossed as he watches his two favourite people in the world, “Plus, I think I can still feel last year's hangover.”

She laughs, something she has to hold back when she remembers she still has her daughter resisting sleep on her chest. They’d spent last New Year out with their friends, drunk a lot of champagne and then came home and had a lot of sex.

Sex that she is almost positive led to the tiny baby in her arms.

“Same,” she says, resting her cheek on top of Evelyn’s head, “It had the best outcome though.”

He walks over and wraps his arms around them both, “The absolute best,” he says, kissing her forehead, “Want me to take her for a while?”

Emily nods and kisses Evelyn’s head before she lets him take her out of her arms, overcome with the usual mix of joy at seeing them together and the desire to snatch her baby back into her embrace. Moments like this inevitably made her think of her parents. She tried to imagine them in the early stages of parenthood, of the long seemingly endless days of having a newborn. She wished she could picture them like this, trading off holding her as they tried to get her off to sleep late at night, but she couldn’t.

She thought she’d miss them. That the six years she’d gone without having her parents in her life would disappear and she’d suddenly feel like she was right at the start again, that being a new parent would unlock some deep-seated, primal, need in her to have them back.

But it hadn’t. Her family was small, just the three of them for now, but she loved it. She didn’t feel like she was missing anything.

“There we go,” Aaron says, his voice soft as he pulls her out of her train of thought, a smile on his face that edged on smug as he turns to show her that Evelyn is fast asleep.

“Daddy’s girl,” Emily scoffs, although they both know there is no malice behind it, and she walks over stroking her knuckles down her daughter’s soft cheek, her breath catching in her chest as she does so. “She’s so perfect,” she says, her eyes filling with tears she still wasn’t used to as she looks up at him, “How did we make something so perfect?”

Aaron smiles and adjusts his hold on Evelyn and wraps his arm around his wife, pulling her close and kissing her temple, “Because you’re perfect.”

She chuckles and shakes her head, pressing her face into his shoulder as she turns to look at Evelyn, “Daddy is ridiculous, sweet girl,” she says quietly, not wanting to wake her, “But we love him anyway.” She teases, and he shakes his head and looks at the television and sees the ball drop and he encourages Emily to look. They both smile and she leans in to kiss him, “Happy New Year, honey.”

He smiles as he pulls back, “Happy New Year.”

___

The girls are all over her when they get home.

Hazel brings her a drawing she’s done, a proud smile on her face as she climbs in her lap as Emily looks over it. She holds the 10-year-old close as she points out who is who in the family portrait she’d drawn, although it’s clear enough that Emily doesn’t need the direction. She already knows she’s going to take it to work and frame it, place it on her desk to look at it every time she has a hard day and needs reminding of all the good things she had in the world.

Mae sticks close by too, glued to her mother’s side until Aaron takes her to bed, her small hands on Emily’s cheeks as she pokes at her dimples to make her smile. Emily can hear her giggling upstairs, and she knows there is no doubt that the 5-year-old is conning Aaron into at least one bedtime story.

She sighs to herself and she’s just about to go to the kitchen, a bottle of wine in the fridge with her name on it, but she’s stopped as Evelyn walks into the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Are you okay Evie?”

The teenager shrugs and then sighs when Emily pats the couch cushion next to her. She walks over and flops down onto the couch, her legs tucked under herself as she faces Emily.

“Did you go and see your mom and dad today?”

Emily’s eyebrow shoot up her face before she can stop them and she chokes on a laugh at the unexpected question. She loved that her daughters were smart, that they’d always been ahead of the curve when it came to their peers, but for once, just once, she wished Evelyn wasn’t as perceptive.

“Why…” she clears her throat, “Why do you think we did that?”

Evelyn rolls her eyes, “Because we walked into your mom a week ago and you’ve been acting all weird ever since,” she says, twisting some of her hair in between her fingers, “And you seem…I don’t know…sad.”

Emily sighs and she reaches out to place her hand on Evelyn’s arm. She never lied to her daughters, not beyond the Santa Claus or Tooth Fairy lies every parent told, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“Yes,” she says, squeezing her daughter’s arm, “We went to see them.”

The corner of Evelyn’s lips twitch, a sarcastic smile Aaron said was all her looking back at her, “I’m guessing because of the pizza we had for dinner and Dad’s over-the-top enthusiasm for helping with Mae’s bedtime it didn’t exactly go well?”

She laughs and nods her head, “Yeah, it didn’t go well.”

“I looked them up,” Evelyn says, taking Emily by surprise again, her lips pressed together as their eyes meet, “A long time ago at school. I knew they were a big deal but…wow.”

Emily’s confidence in her earlier decision wavers, a moment of doubt washing over her like ice water as she blows out a shaky breath, “Would you…” she swallows thickly, “Would you want to get to know them?”

“Oh god no,” she replies, shaking her head fiercely, smiling when Emily looks surprised. She shifts closer and tucks herself under Emily’s arm, resting her head against her chest, “I know you’ve always talked around it, but I know enough to know it has something to do with Dad.”

Emily runs her fingers through Evelyn’s hair, enjoying the closeness from her eldest, “What does honey?”

“Why you don’t speak to them,” she says, tilting her head to look up at her, “And Dad might be embarrassing as hell and the worst school trip chaperone of all time,” they both smile and Emily reaches out to tuck some hair behind Evelyn’s ear, “But he’s Dad. And you two are disgustingly in love after all this time, and I’m half him. What if they don’t like the half of me that's him?”

Emily hums and tugs Evelyn back into her chest, resting her cheek on top of her head, “It’s more likely the part of you that’s me they’d have the biggest problem with.”

Evelyn settles in closer to Emily’s embrace and sighs, “I can stop,” she says, looking up at her again, an earnest look in her eyes, “If it means we’re less likely to bump into them or whatever, I can stop student government.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Emily says, sitting up so she can cup Evelyn’s cheek, tears pressing at the back of her eyes that she refuses to shed, her daughter’s kindness healing any wounds that her parent’s lack of interest in her had created, “I would never ask you to do that.”

Evelyn frowns, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you sad.”

She leans forward and kisses her daughter’s forehead and then tugs her into a hug, smiling into her little girl’s hair as she returns it just as fiercely, “You never could, honey. I am so proud of you,” she says, pulling back to look at her, “And I want you to be whoever you want to be.”

She hears a throat clearing in the doorway and she smiles as she looks over and sees her husband, the adoring look on his face letting her know just how much he’d overheard.

“I was thinking we could watch one of those shows you two like,” he says as he leans against the door frame, “One of those where the women all yell at each other in whatever restaurant they happen to be in.”

Evenlyn beams at him and jumps up off the couch, “There is a new episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” she says, briefly hugging Aaron before she leaves the room, “I’ll get the snacks.”

“There are peanut butter cups in the back of the pantry,” he calls after her, smiling when she waves her hand at him over her shoulder. He waits until she’s out of view and then walks over to the couch, sitting next to his wife and wrapping his arm around her, “It feels stupid asking, but are you okay?”

She blows out a breath as she sinks into his side, her head on his shoulder as he pulls her impossibly closer. She tilts her head to look at him, and her smile shakes a little. She knew it would take a while before she felt like she was on even footing again, and that she’d hold her breath, anticipating that she was going to walk into one of her parents every time she’d turn a corner.

In some ways, it felt like she was right back at the start but she knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t 23 and unsure of where her relationship could end up, she knew she would have Aaron by her side no matter what. She hadn’t walked away from her family, she had one of her own. A family stitched together with love and joy, not unfulfilled expectations and half-truths.

She nods and leans in to kiss him, making sure it’s quick because she can hear Evelyn walking back towards them, her feet thumping against the hardwood floor.

“I will be.”

-x-

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irbcallmefynn · 3 days

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Okay this is a very hard post for me to make but i feel like i have to make it. I can't be quiet about this any more. I can't keep saying it where nobody will see it because i need people to see it. If the friends of anyone mentioned in this post want to send it their way, feel free. This is not a call-out post. This is an apology, and an ask for explanation.

I want to preface what I'm about to say with: I'm not mad at anyone mentioned in this post. I don't think anybody in The Creachures is. We all miss you and wish things could've worked out. I'm sorry if what I say comes off as hostile or aggressive, I'm not great at wording this sort of thing, and it's coming from a place of much emotion.

@hexedbug @juneibyou @xxthunderthedragon @bobisnotaperson @razzytism

You five have caused me a lot of stress and anxiety in not telling me what i did to hurt you. You haven't given me the opportunity to improve upon myself or correct these transgressions, or even apologize to you. I'm sure you're all at least somewhat aware of how I handle feelings like this, and I understand you not wanting to pander to me or hurt yourself by putting up with me and my Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. But you all let me down very harshly, and I've been unable to move past what happened because of it. You've made being on Tumblr miserable, to the point you're making me consider quitting Tumblr, because being on here and seeing you constantly and feeling that sense of hatred hurts, especially when you're being closer to my friends than they are with me. I've been told you don't hate me, but it's hard to believe and accept that when, in my head, you've all decided to block me for unknown reasons, and denied me the ability to apologize.

Hexed. I understand you find what I post about weird. And I understand I was interacting with people who "dragged the server down". You're the one I understand the reasoning of the most. Not following me back because you don't like my posts is fine, though you could've just blocked tags/post content about that stuff. If I was tagging things improperly you should've told me so I could correct it, instead of letting it sit inside you until you couldn't handle it. I get I was encouraging people to vent in Tau Heximus 2, something you didn't want. But again, you should have said something, or done something. I contributed to making your server a place you didn't enjoy. I feel like you wanted both a strictly positive place, and a place where people can be honest and close, two things that don't mesh. I chose the one that I enjoyed more, a close, honest community. I'm sorry I went against your wishes.

June. When you left the server, you said that "Bug Squad" were real ones, and that you still liked us. You then went on to call us and our friends Delusional for starting a new server after the old server's death. That hurt immensely. I understand you were in an emotional place, but using a word like that is not acceptable. You also went to my girlfriend's private vent blog to target it directly. You're the only one I ever blocked, because you were being actively hateful, and betrayed my trust directly. I have since unblocked you, though, because I'm not mad at you, not anymore. You were trying to cope with what happened, and I get it. I just wish you handled things more gracefully and politely. I'm sorry for whatever I did to hurt you, besides joining a new server. Just, please, work on your emotional control some, so outbursts like this don't happen again.

Thunder. You're the one I miss the most. I felt so close to you. You almost felt like a brother to me. But the way you've been avoiding bringing up what I did to hurt you makes me feel like you either don't want me to know what i did, or don't know what I did yourself. I just wish you'd be more open to talking, so we can work things out. I'm so sorry for hurting you.

Bobbu. I thought we were still friends when you invited me to join Art and Slimes. I turned it down because I don't think I could handle a server of that size, and had already joined the new server. While we maybe weren't as close as some of the others, I still considered you a friend. I'm sorry for whatever I did.

Raz. I am so, so sorry for everything that happened. TH2 was the only place that you had found comfort and support in to such a degree, and I've been worried about how you've been without that support. I feel like you used to trust me a lot, enough to confide in me about some of your issues. I wish I knew what I did to betray that trust.

There's three others I wish to bring up that haven't hurt me as bad, but I still wish to say something to.

Mars, I'm glad we're still friends. But it feels like you're less a part of Bug Squad than you are Hexed and June's friend group. I'm always worried about the state of our friendship, since you interact with them so much more than Me, Rico, and Tetra. I just feel excluded and neglected, is all. I'm sorry.

Yaza, I don't know how to feel about you. You're clearly more of June and Hexed's friend than mine. Clearly you don't like the new server because we kept bringing this stuff up in the early days, and I'm so sorry for that. I just wish we could still be friends. Because right now it doesn't feel like you want to be my friend.

Eblu. I don't know what to think of you. You're a good guy, really. But when you say you're my friend and then turn around a few days later and say "if you're friends with [close friend of mine] don't interact with me" I have issues with that. Deciding that everyone who's friends with someone is now bad because they made a mistake is not okay. Yes, it was bad that it happened. Yes, that friend should've been more careful. You are valid for being upset by what you saw. But you don't have to declare everyone who likes that person undesirable. You took it too far.

There are two things I did that I feel I need to apologize for that I actually know of.

When Tau Heximus 2 was dying, I had said that killing the server would kill me. That was disgusting of me. I should not have said that. It was emotionally manipulative of me. I was scared, and confused, I had never experienced something like that before, the loss of somewhere that felt like home, it really felt like I was going to die, and I spoke with my heart instead of my head. If this is what I did to hurt you, I am deeply sorry for saying something so uncomfortable. I'm doing my best to keep my emotional responses under control. And I hope that should anything like that happen again, I won't have such a dramatic response.

I would also like to apologize for being so difficult to help. Whenever I'm offered advice on how to improve or fix something, I have a habit of coming up with excuses, or just flat out rejecting it. I don't mean to come off as ungrateful or opposed to your help. Stressful situations cause me to mentally shut down in a way where anything to help that takes even a slight amount of effort becomes an insurmountable task. I'm trying my best to be more receptive of help, even if it's just agreeing that it would help. I just wish I had the means and energy to actually act on the advice. I am so sorry for anyone who I've hurt by denying your help. Offering me advice does help me mentally, because it lets me know people care, but I feel terrible that I hurt people by not being able to accept and act on the help.

This isn't a call-out post. This is me asking for clarification on what I did wrong, apologizing for what I know I did, and wishing to clear things up.

Thank you for reading.

#long post #i'm sorry.

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bangfantanfic · 12 hours

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Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer.

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all.

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond.

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship.

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name.

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested?

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head.

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :))

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal.

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby.

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that.

“Y/n!”

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off.

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies.

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often.

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.” He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours.

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved.

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming.

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid.

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment.

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid.

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question.

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.”

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days.

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date.

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon.

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out.

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours.

“She’s gone!”

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own.

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox.

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!”

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety?

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?”

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–”

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted.

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets.

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing.

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness.

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall.

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door?

Impossible.

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door.

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart.

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…”

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern.

“Is he sick?”

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind.

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out.

“We can’t find Y/n.”

#btsxreader #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #yandere bts #bts hybrid #bts!au #bts x reader #bts yandere #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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toomanytookas · 1 day

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The Gift

Dieter Bravo x f!afab!reader

Rating: 18+ only please

Summary: Dieter designs a special room for you in the house that you are building together.

Important note: This is set in the world of @schnarfer’s If Wishes Came True trilogy. If you haven’t read it (where have you been? Go! Read it!!) you will likely be a bit lost.

Word count: ~3k

Content: Angst and fluff, the angst is pretty much all in the past but we do sit with it for a while here (this is dedicated to Al, after all), consumption of food and alcohol, references to/presence of drugs but they aren’t consumed on screen, oblique references to the reader and Dieter's sexual proclivities, blink and you’ll miss it moment of smutty touching, lots more sensual and casual touch as well as kissing, swearing, bathing, cats, I wrote this for one person but she’s invited you to the party

A/N: A version of this fic was gifted to my beloved @schnarfer on the occasion of her birthday last week. It would have never actually been possible for me to have the confidence to send it to her and not just throw it straight in the bin without the very gentle hand holding of @pascalssbabyy (Beth, you are an angel).

I say a version because after being the most gracious recipient of a fic of her fic (wtf was I thinking?), Al not only encouraged me to share it more widely but was willing to give it a beta and helped to refine my attempt at an ode to her style into the much punchier, emotionally charged (we do love torturing our boy a bit...) thing you now have the opportunity to read. This is absolutely the product of two minds and I could not have had more fun working with her to reach this final version. Any remaining errors and weird bits are my own, feel free to lmk if you see anything funky. I hope you like it!

I don't know what it is about you that makes the bathwater blush, why I want to ask for your hand forever around my throat;

- Megan Falley, "Your Bathwater > Wine"

When Dieter adopted Chairman Meow from the shelter, the sign on the tom’s cage said he had been wandering despondently around the property his last owner had vacated, unable to stray far from the place where he had last known a comfortable life. Abandonment issues, the profile warned. Looking for a home that will provide constant affection.

Having been driven to the cattery by a deep yearning to be the centre of someone’s world, Dieter thought he recognised a kindred spirit. I’ll be your friend, bud. He stuck a thick finger into the mog’s enclosure and wiggled it against the soft fur. When the cat had budged up even closer in response, he knew that it was love.

After you left, when he would wake to that furry face rubbing against his chin, a paw tapping his cheek to ask to be let in under the covers, Dieter was grateful that he had someone who understood why—despite Pete’s encouragement—he could never quite go through with leaving that fucking fishbowl of a house for good. Not when he no longer had you.

The wretched, destructive thing that lived inside him conjured constant reminders of how your brightness had seeped into the very walls of the house. It dangled flashes of your smile in his periphery when he made his morning coffee, replayed echoes of your laugh when he reached for you in the middle of the night. They were glimpses of lost happiness that in those brief moments still radiated joy. The glow sometimes burned like hot coals, but he gathered every memory of you tightly his chest. The searing ache was worth it. Staying put was worth it. How else would he remember so clearly how much you had made his world come alive? And how else would you know how to find him when you decided to come back?

But when you did return to him, when you came home, Dieter’s dedication to remaining in that bastard house until his end of days vanished. He was climbing the walls to be rid of it as fast as humanly possible. Why would he want to stay there when it was a constant reminder of the destruction he had wrought? Without you the house was a lifeline, but with you it was a curse. It could never be the home he wanted to give you now that he had a second chance. Despite what his trusted energy worker suggested, a ceremonial disposal of the bed and a few rounds of sage burning would not have been enough to fix it.

So he called his realtor. Sold the house. Said goodbye to all its awful energy. Hoped that maybe all the worst versions of Dieter Bravo managed to be left there, trapped behind the glass. Waiting to be discovered and dealt with by whichever sad fuck bought that Hollywood house of mirrors, blissfully unaware of the demons they were to inherit.

The Dieter menagerie moved in to yours.

The Chairman and Dolly Purrton both quickly found their favourite new spots to snooze in puddles of sunshine, but as much as he longed to join them, Dieter could never quite settle.

The longer you shared the space and began to rebuild some of the trust and respect that needed to layer on top of your burning, incandescent love; the clearer it became that your house was also too haunted.

There was too bitter an aftertaste on both your tongues whenever you would pull into the drive, remembering the pleading eyes of past Dieters who had turned up unannounced at all hours of the night begging for forgiveness, desperate for a second chance. It was too jarring, the pangs of Dieter’s jealousy over plastic, perfect Brandon, who once upon a time happily wandered those halls, pressed you hungrily against those doorframes, laughed with you over a lovingly prepared dinner made in that kitchen. What a fucking prince.

The discomfort of it all, the continued haunting that he had thought escaping his former house would resolve, left Dieter lumbering through the house, wrapping himself in a moveable den of blankets and keeping a hand braced against his tummy or a cat cradled to his chest in an effort to soothe the roiling thoughts.

After he spent a full week between shoots wandering despondently from room to room, only able to feel grounded when you were somewhere in the house, you put your foot down.

This was meant to be a second chance, D. Not us climbing back into the coffin. This house was no longer your home, you told him, if it was responsible for the tension in his jaw and the ache you felt when either of you found reminders of all the past hurt.

And so Dieter set out to build you both a house. A home that would reverberate with the joys of love and the laughter of friends, and never, ever know the monster inside him that he was working so hard to put to rest. A sanctuary for the two of you, tucked against the hills in an area where the neighbours don’t care a single bit who either of you are, only that you look out for the community and pitch in a baked good or two for the annual block party.

It’s the house of your dreams because it represents your shared commitment to making a life together. It’s the house of his dreams because, somehow, you want to live there with him.

Given a blank check, the architect and interior designer work with the two of you to identify the exact touches that will make you feel beyond comfortable. The kind of upgrades that aren’t flashy, but make enjoying the pleasurable things in life even easier.

The new bed feels like you’re being cuddled by the softest clouds. You spend your free mornings tucked in under the covers together, letting him sneak peeks over your shoulder as you gleefully trade quips with your friends and read the naughtiest and most delicious smut before rising to start your day.

There’s a gas fireplace that can be lit at a moment’s notice when you want to curl up in one of the the divine plush chairs, which you picked out together after spending an afternoon in a high-end showroom, half focused on which were the most comfortable to read in, half on which could reliably sustain both of your weights in motion.

These are just a couple of your favourite things amidst a near embarrassment of riches. They make you feel as though you’ve won the lottery, and the lottery’s name was Dieter (just Dieter, your dear love Dieter, no Bravo in sight).

Picking out features and facets for the house was so much a shared project between the two of you—the thing you could work on through trading pinterest boards and voice notes, even when projects kept you physically apart—that it was a bit of a surprise when Dieter informed you that there was a room he wanted to build that he wasn’t going to share the details of. Not until it was done.

He took infinite pleasure in making a big show of the secret, whipping out a blindfold that may or may not have originated from your toy chest when you were set to do walkthroughs during construction, curling his broad body around you and nudging you forward with one foot and then the other until the room was far enough away from view that he could restore your sight without worry of ruining the surprise.

It’s going to be magnificent, angel, he would breathe gleefully against your ear.

The contractors were always thankfully far enough ahead of you that you didn’t feel embarrassed by the heat that flooded your face at the tickle of his words and the firmness of his chest against your back.

You had some sense of what the room might be. Dieter wouldn’t reject your idea for a vintage-inspired clawfoot tub in the master unless he was going to make it up to you somewhere else in the house. He knew how much of a comfort a soak in the bath was for you, there was no way he was going to deny you the luxury in your own home.

But what exactly this room looked like remained a mystery. Sometimes a package would arrive that he would eagerly squirrel away behind that closed door, disappearing for a while to set up whatever newest addition he had imagined on the road to perfection. Piece by piece, Dieter was building a dream, one that he specifically dreamed of for you.

In the meantime, the two of you moved into the house and set about truly making it your space, fit to burst with the vibrancy of your lives.

There was nothing like being able to wind down from the heights of the energy on set, the frenetic hustle that you loved so much but demanded that you be at a constant eleven.

Nothing like ending a chillier evening by the fire. Your feet tucked under the fluff of the Chairman’s rotund rump where it was perched on Dieter’s lap, your thumb idly tracing the drops of condensation on a bottle of cider.

Nothing like welcoming friends at the weekend for a hearty roast and glowing conversation, getting to show off the fruits of your beautiful gas range and indulge in the delight of warm bellies and full hearts.

Nothing like your Dieter, flush with a new aura of happiness and love and the therapy-influenced acceptance that he was allowed to have all of this, to have you, to know joy.

On the night of your birthday, when your body and head already feel floaty from a delightful evening featuring a steady flow of cocktails and sushi, Dieter sneaks away as you are bidding goodbye to your final guests.

Once the last of your friends are out the door, he places a pair of oversized scissors in your hands and herds you like an eager collie over to the soon-to-no-longer-be-secret room. There’s a velvety ribbon across the door and he has you make the ceremonial opening cut before placing one of his warm palms over your eyes and the other at your sternum, holding you to his chest and guiding you both over the threshold.

You feel a wall of steam envelop your body and your heart leaps with anticipation. Your bathtub. You were right.

Dieter removes his hand, “Open your eyes, angel.”

Immediately, your vision is flooded with ochre and gold. Candles flicker playfully on almost every possible surface, their dancing light filling the room.

It is clear to you right away that this oasis will become a peaceful near holy space, a sanctuary that you can retreat to when you need to shut out the rest of the world. Despite the many, many acts of sin that are bound to occur inside these four walls, there is something bright and pure about the energy that Dieter has curated.

Lush ferns and orchids are mounted to the walls, bound to flourish in the tropical climate that the frequent steam will create for them.

There are massive geodes of your favourite crystals that sparkle on pedestals, radiating deep energy and glistening in the candlelight.

Two skylights open the room up so you can see the heavens, as though from your watery cocoon you might be able to ascend to the stars.

The bath itself is cavernous, currently filled nearly to the brim and softly crackling with lush bubbles that are being stirred by what you assume must be underwater jets.

On the far wall, Dieter has painted an abstract mural that makes you think of the moments of calm that you feel when he wraps you in his arms after a long day. Soft, warm, safe.

As he follows your gaze, eager to ingest your every reaction, he directs you to look at the title that he’s lettered just next to his signature.

Angel’s rest.

Your eyes are misty, “Oh, D. It’s magic.”

“Everything for my girl. Everything.”

His voice cracks slightly through the whisper, his hands come to your waist to turn you in his embrace, strong eye contact boring into your soul with the depth of how very much he means those words, beyond this gift, beyond this house.

You have to kiss him. Your heart can’t take not fusing your mouth to his in this moment.

It’s a soft kiss, a tender kiss, one you could bask in from now until the end of time. It makes you so bright with love.

You can’t help but let your lips curve into a grin. You think he must be able to feel your cheek muscles twitch from how widely you are smiling against his lips.

He breaks from you, but immediately returns once, twice, and then presses a quick and cheeky peck against your jawline.

“Come, angel. Before the water gets too cold.”

Slowly, reverently, he helps you slide your sparkling birthday dress over your shoulders and down to the floor. Pressing gentle, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and lace-covered breasts as each inch of you is revealed.

He kneels before you to remove your panties. As soon as they are at your knees, he nuzzles his face against your mound, the tip of his nose nestling against your clit.

Fuck.

You hear him exhale happily when your stance softens, hands ghosting up and down your thighs, but instead of taking his first taste of your cunt for the evening, he draws back and tips his head toward the bath.

Pouting, you nod and let him help you out of your slippers, large hand cupping each ankle in turn. When your bare feet touch the floor, you can tell that there is some sort of heating system beneath the tile. It’s heaven.

You grasp his forearm for balance as you ascend the steps and then slide into the steaming hot water of the bath. You let your grip linger, playing with the flexing muscle that you feel ripple as he wiggles his fingers playfully. He knows you're a bit loony for the feel of his powerful arms.

Then he's pulling away from you again.

Despite the near-trance the water and this moment is sending you into, you let out a soft squawk of disapproval.

"Just for a minute, angel. I want to go get your present."

More gifts? Well, an indulgent Dieter is often the happiest Dieter and it is your birthday. And Dieter firmly believes that birthday girls deserve to have some lovely treats.

You let yourself doze, still tipsy and buzzing from the joys of the night, cradled by the bubbles and the soothing warmth of the water. The next thing you know, gentle but thick fingertips are lightly dragging their way from your knee to your hip and then up the flesh of your stomach, a mild and delicious friction. Before those fingers can reach the swell of your breast, your hands come up to halt their journey. Intertwining your fingers with his, you bring Dieter’s now somewhat bubble-covered hand up for a kiss, avoiding the worst of the soapy aftertaste by pressing your lips high on his pulse point.

When you make eye contact, his gaze still looks wild with love.

"Relaxed, angel?"

"Ever so."

You look over at him and find he's set a tray down on a bar cart that has appeared from somewhere in the room. On it, a box of four pralines from your favourite chocolatier, a chilled bottle of champagne, and a joint resting on the edge of a beautiful glass ashtray. It must be new because its colours are too perfect to not have been picked out lovingly by Dieter to match the room.

You sit up slightly. Happy birthday to you, indeed.

"May I join you?" The reverence in his voice feels it’s been magnified by the room.

"We've talked about this, baby. Water makes for horrible lube."

"I just want to cuddle with my birthday girl."

This Dieter, so tender, so vulnerably in love in a way that he never let himself be before you. You sense in this moment that he truly feels he needs permission to be allowed to just be in your space for a while, a hesitance fueled by past regrets and insecurities that even the promise and protection of this new house have not fully squashed. No matter. You are more than happy to affirm just how welcome in your arms he will always be.

You smile, nodding sleepily, and he sheds his clothing. You're so relaxed, so enveloped in warmth, that you almost forget to admire his bare body as he climbs in to join you. Almost. Thank goodness the part of your brain that always wants him, is always drawn to his form, isn't actually taking a holiday so you can admire.

When he's settled with his back against the side of the bath, Dieter pulls the cart over so that everything is in reach. He pops the champagne, handing you a glass, then brings one of the chocolates to his mouth, holding it in his teeth and wriggling his eyebrows playfully in a suggestion for you to take it from him.

You giggle and indulge him, using your hands to grip the edge tub on either side of his body and pull yourself through the water until you are practically chest to chest, nose to nose. Too close for true eye contact, but you can't help but pick one of his eyes to focus on, letting yourself go a bit crosseyed to try and send him every wonderful thing you have been feeling this evening directly through your gaze.

Slowly, gently, you close the remaining distance and bite the praline in half, letting your lips drag against his as the chocolate begins to melt on your tongue. It's perfectly bitter and smooth.

Dieter consumes the rest.

"Mmm. A not too sweet for my not too sweet."

The snort that leaves your body firmly disrupts the headiness of the moment, the exhalation forming a crater in the bubbles and making you further devolve into giggles when you have to bring a hand up to brush away a clump of the soapy fuzz that sticks to his cheek.

You press your forehead against Dieter's damp shoulder and feel the rise and fall of it as he joins you in mirth, arm coming up around you so you don't slide away from him as you once again relax into the water.

As the wave of laughter subsides, your breathing synchronizes with his and you let yourself soak in the quiet. A perfect christening of this tub. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"I love you, angel. Happy birthday."

#the bubble #the bubble fanfic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #me: wednesday is probably a good quiet day to post this #pedro: hold my beer #but i'm still posting it anyway because if i don't i'm just going to keep obsessively poking at it #also this is queued for while i’m sleeping so if you know what time it is for me rn i promise i’m at least pretending to be asleep

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blisss777 · 1 day

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Anakin skywalker x best friend reader

Warnings:mentions of rape, pregnancy, violence, torture, sexual power play, reader kinda takes padme's place in this, but don't worry padme ends up with sabé. If I missed more let me know.

As Anakin and padme lands the ship on tatooine, the search for his mother begins. Seeing his once slave owner watto, who gives directions to a house out a ways in the plain dessert. Where he surprisingly finds out he now has a step brother.

He is happily surprised to find his mother safe, but bed bound, the torture and abuse the Tusken Raiders bestowed upon her left her weak. But safe nonetheless and healing. "Oh ani, my son. You're so handsome." Shmi places kisses all over anakin's face as he smiles through tears at finally seeing his mother again, and free.

His mother suddenly stops and stares at anakin with a serious and worried look on her face. "Ani, y/n is still missing. The rescuers and your stepfather haven't been able to save her, I tried to get them to go back for her but they told me that it is too dangerous." She shakily whispers, her eyes watering at the thought of what she's going through as they speak.

"What?" Anakin gasps in shock, unaware that his childhood friend has been taken as well. A memory floods his head, of the time they said goodbye.

"You promise we'll see each other again, right ani. And you'll free us." Y/n sniffles as tears flow down her little chubby cheeks. Hugging anakin with a strength so surprising for a little eight year old. "I promise, I'll never forget you y/n. Never" little anakin promises in a confident voice, meaning his words with a striking intensity.

So anakin decides then and there that he is going to find her and free her, no matter what. He then sets out to find her, sneaking into the Tusken Raiders camp and using the force to find where she is being kept. Slicing open the back of the tent and walking in.

The sight before him causes a sharp pain of blame and sadness in his heart, he quickly yet gently unties her and softly places her down in his lap. Pushing the stray hairs out of her face, gazing down at her and fighting off the tears. "Ani?" She whispers out in pain and slight confusion.

Her face and body swollen and bruised, tears rolling down her cheeks just like before when anakin left tatooine. She looks just the same as before, just older and she's lost all her baby fat. But she's still his y/n. "It's me, I'm here. You're safe now." He rasps out in the same tone he did as a kid, promising he'd come back and free her.

"I missed you so much." Y/n smiles through the pain, grabbing his hand and squeezing as best as she could. He places a hand on her cheek in response, caressing her gently with his thumb. "I'm here now, I'm taking you home." She smiles as she gazes up at him.

"Ani." She repeats before her eyes fluttered closed, her head lolling back as her grip on his hand loosens. "No, no y/n. Stay with me. Please." Anakin voice wavers as he tries to shake her awake. But nothing, no response.

Anguish and seething anger fills his veins, as he lifts his head to stare daggers. He softly lays her flat on the ground as he leaves the tent, igniting his saber and cutting down two guard Tusken Raiders. The other's stopping in shock before approaching him angry that he's killed one of their people. Anakin gets in fighting stance and readys his saber. The blue glow casting a beautiful light on his face.

After successfully killing all the Tusken Raiders in a blinding hate, he enters the tent where y/n still remains. Leaning down to pick her up but stopping short, how could he have not felt this before. She's alive but barely, something is keeping her alive. A familiar thing he sensed, Midi-chlorians. It surrounds her in waves.

He narrowed his Eyes and let's the force guide him, his Eyes widened in shock. Thinking that this couldn't be true, it just couldn't. He picks her up and jumps on his speeder bike with her in his arms. Speeding back to his stepfather's house.

They all rush out seeing the girl limp in his arms. "She's hurt, badly but she's still alive." They all stare in shock, wondering how this girl survived. Covered in horrible bruises. Rushing her inside They get a medical droid to help her, the droid works in silence as it tends to her wounds before wrapping them.

"Her and the child will survive, it is healthy." The droid hums out before leaving anakin, padme and his stepfather in the room with her. "She's pregnant." Cliegg asks in shock as he looks to anakin with widened eyes.

"I sensed it, I wasn't entirely sure." Anakin says as he sits in a chair besides her as she lays still on the bed. Not once looking away from her, her breathing slow yet rhythmic. "Who is the father?" Padme ask as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Maybe we could ask watto he has to know something, right." She places a hand on anakin's shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

"You're right." Is all he says as he stands and leaves the room, both him and padme finding there way back to watto. Finding him with a client, when watto spots them he waves his hand at the client shooing him away. "Well, well, what you miss me that much little ani. Or should I say big ehh." Watto cackles at his own bad joke, but anakin isn't laughing.

"What, it wasn't funny eh?, tough crowd." He shrugs as he flys over to anakin, padme by his side. "She's pregnant." He suddenly sneers out. Unable to hold back his anger anymore. "Who?" Watto confusedly scratches his head, making anakin even more angry. "Y/n, She's pregnant. And I wanna know who's the father." His voice is stern and serious.

"Oh my little servant is alive ehh, thought for sure those nasty Tuskens would've killed her by now. Well it seems I'm in luck, I won't have to buy another one." He rasps in his grating voice, laughing like this is extremely funny to him. Anakin's about to storm towards him, raising his arm to force choke him before padme holds him back. "Ani you mustn't, we have to find out who the father is."

He realises padme is right, if he kills him now he'll never get the answers to his questions. So he reluctantly lowers his arm, still glaring at watto. "Why is it so important ehh, what you wanna give the man a congratulatory handshake." Watto questions and raises a non-existence eyebrow.

"Tell me now!" Anakin sneers, so over his blabbering of nonsense. "Jeez alright ehh, no need to get mad." Watto sighs out. "This zebrak fellow comes through here from time to time, we met over gambling. He was looking for a little action ehh, I decided to offer my little servant to him for a hefty price. One I didn't think he would take." Watto explains animatedly waving his arms around.

"Turns out people are really desperate these days huh." He chuckles and wiggles his non-existence eyebrows, hoping anakin would join in on the joke. Which he doesn't of course. "You what?" Anakin is livid now, but luckily padme still has a grip on his bicep. "Ani he's not worth it, C'mon y/n needs you." Padme pleads with Anakin, dragging him back.

"You heard him padme, he doesn't deserve to live a happy life after what he's done to her. What he put her through!" He shouts back, disgust and guilt filling him. Cursing at himself in his head, thinking that if he came back for her earlier none of this wouldn't have happened.

"Ani look at me, we need to go back now. She's awake." Padme shows him the holo message from his stepbrother, letting him know that y/n is finally awake now. And hopefully ready to talk about this zebrak and tell him who he is.

Anakin nods and sends one last death glare at watto, before turning and leaving. Watto feels a shiver go down his spine, he was sure the boy was going to kill him or worse. Anakin and padme speeds back to the house, rushing into the room y/n is kept in. And seeing her sitting and talking to his mother, both of them holding hands in conversation before turning and seeing Anakin and padme in the doorway.

"Ani." She smiles as tears immediately fills her eyes, shmi watching their interaction with a look of contentment at them finally being reunited. "Y/n." Anakin rushed towards her, sitting on the bed on her left and gripping one of her hands in his. Looking at her in disbelief that she's alright.

"Can we be alone." Anakin looks at his mom then to padme, both of them nodding and leaving. He turns back and stares intensely into y/n's eyes. "Did they tell you?" He questioned curiously, gently squeezing her hand. "Yes, shmi has told me." She looks down in shame and embarrassment, the tears have already stained her cheeks.

"Hey, look at me." He gently grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of." He rasps in a caring and soft tone, meaning every word.

She nodded her head at his words, tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazes at him with her doe eyes. "Whenever your ready, can you tell me who the father is?" She shallows and realised how dry her throat is, looking to the side and biting her lip. Letting out a breath, wanting to say nothing but knowing that she couldn't, she could never keep anything from her best friend.

She leans in and anakin does the same, when she's besides his ear she whisper something that both shocks and surprises anakin. "Are you sure." He asked in a serious tone, narrowing his Eyes. "Yes, I am ani. I'm sure." She confidently confirms, he senses fear in her.

"You're afraid, why?" She grabs anakin's hands in both of hers, trying to ground herself. "He threatened me not to tell anyone, and if I even thought about doing so or if I did, he would kill anyone I love and care for." Her hands are shaking now, and anakin feels it. He grips her hands and holds them to his chest.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise you this." He reaches a hand up and caresses her cheek, she throws her arms around his neck and sobs into it. Anakin pulls her tighter against him, wrapping his arms around her as her heart breaking sobs reach his ears.

And he knows that no matter what, he will protect her, he will kill for her. He will kill anyone her dares lay a hand on her. Anyone who dares make her cry, even just a little bit. "Never again, I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered in a adoring tone, yet something else is there, something sinister. Something dark.

Notes:wow that was a roller-coaster of emotions huh, also I'm thinking of making part two because it definitely doesn't end here. There is more to the story then I thought up, but I'll see if anyone likes this one first lol 😅

#anakin x fem reader #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #star wars #fem reader #anakin x reader #star wars x reader #x reader #tumblr fyp #fyp #writers on tumblr

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clarasunflowers · 2 days

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i hate talking about this but i have to get it off my chest and my wife get nauseous every time i do. some days i can’t stand my job. everyone says how can you stand a job that sometimes requires a hazmat suit? i don’t mind that. i enjoy digging into filth so i can see the resident come home and gasp in delight at their spotless, like-new home that they thought would be destroyed for the unimaginable filth. the stink of death that you can smell from across the street. layers piled up halfway to the ceiling of nothing but unidentifiable sludge and mold. digging for 12 hours straight only to discover to my surprise there’s a sink or god forbid, a toilet in there. children sleeping on top of 10+ years worth of moldy pizza boxes because they can’t find their bed. being told the resident isn’t here because they’re at the hospital clinging to life after getting infections from the filth. hearing of residents discovering corpses in their home of people they thought went missing months or years ago. people showering while standing on top of molding cardboard boxes. it wears on me to see people in this misery and suffering. i always offer to keep coming back monthly or weekly for a very very small fee so it doesn’t happen again but their shame won’t let them. they can’t look me in the eye and i know it’ll all just come right back. a young man once called us when he was sleeping in his car because he literally couldn’t get the door or any windows open anymore from the filth and trash and infestations. we need our community ties to come back. we’re all living in such isolation and have shut down. i can’t stand this. if you need this help please don’t be ashamed. no one, no one deserves to live this way. your home should never feel like a tomb or an unsafe place waiting to kill you in your sleep. i can’t beg them to take my help. i can only tell them they’re worth feeling safe, sane, and confident, and it’s good and normal to ask for help. this isolation is killing us. i can’t take it.

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bambiinobambii · 21 hours

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𝑀𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒪’𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶

the character overlook part 2!!

this is going to be shorter but i still want my yap (spoilers it’s not im passionate about this), spoiler heavy for chapter 4-6

i’m not really proof reading any of this so sorry if anything’s wrong please tell me

🪞before i say anything i want to point out a bit of dialogue between sean and molly

m - i dont have much opinion on you

s - ah but you don’t like me, i can see it in your eyes

m- i don’t know what you’re talking about mr macguire

s - but you look down your pretty little stuck up nose at me

m - i guess i didn’t come to america to meet boys who crawled out of the local bog. when i could have paid them to sweep my chimneys at home

s - i knew it. you’re a snotty nosed little west briton

m - i am no such thing

s - ‘course you are, i see it now. you probably have a family with a big farmhouse and titles

💋 i want to bring this up for a few reasons

1. sean is one of the only characters in camp proud of his heritage, molly is quite superficial and she doesn’t talk much about it, kieran doesn’t know much about his heritage and doesn’t know how to pronounce colm even though kieran was with the o’driscolls

2. he calls her a “little west briton” which usually means an irish person who greatly admires England or Britain, thinking them superior to Ireland

3. i said in my last post that i assumed molly became well off from. a family business in agriculture

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

💋now i don’t have much to say about her outfits here because of the fact that they stay the same so i’ll talk more about her and dutch

💋from shady bell onwards molly really starts to loose it and there’s more and more arguments between the two of them at one point she screams that he ruined her life

💋molly starts getting really paranoid, she sits at one of the docks by herself and karen even tries to comfort her in her own drunken way even when molly approaches her and confronts karen about talking about her (i’m not entirely sure if she actually did) molly smacks karen, karen hits her back harder and molly storms off to behind the house

💋i feel molly starts to realise she is the fool that everyone calls her for falling for dutch, and there’s a held sentiment that dutch probably never loved anyone more than annabelle and molly was more of a distraction with a pretty face

💋walking around shady belle, molly is usually found sulking in the corners of the house on her knees with her head down, i’d also like to put out there that in their room one one side of the bed is disturbed

💋i think kieran’s death was a way to put into perspective how the gang was falling apart molly asking arthur how this is allowed to happen

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

💋molly is absent at the end of chapter 5 and i’m not entirely sure that people really questioned it at all (i was obviously trying and failing to find my wife)

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

💋now let’s get into the deep shit of the start of beaver hollow

💋molly is clearly drunk back in her casual outfit with her blue shirt, which i think personally is how she felt more comfortable in

💋she curses out dutch and says that she told milton about the saint denis robbery

💋i think she went through the realisation when she was away of dutch’s complex about himself, calling him “your majesty” or “master” when she makes fun of him

💋dutch talks a lot about loyalty and having faith and him and miss grimshaw carry the sentiment that she broke the rules

💋miss grimshaw shoots molly, and i think, though i love molly, she is my wife, it was the last nail on the coffin that when molly died she sees dutch, the only person she thought liked, even loved her, looking disappointed in her

💋she also didn’t get a proper burial and got burned

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

(only doing positive ones bc that’s what my baby deserves)

💋 karen’s the most aggressive after mollys death as she holds a grudge to miss grimshaw, calling her a filthy murderer and saying that she probably liked doing it, karen had seen (imo) that molly just wanted dutch’s attention and she was blinded by love

💋 i personally hold a grudge too but she seemed remorseful that she did it because she had to

💋 abigail feels guilty but they’re still under the pretence that she ratted on them

💋 charles says he feels bad even though he didn’t know her well

💋 strauss, though i think he probably did not gaf he actually includes molly in him saying the camps falling apart

💋 marybeth just feels guilty about her, saying that she doesn’t believe it, she probably said that in the way of she couldn’t believe that mollys dead but i’d like to think she also didn’t think that molly did it

💋 swanson says she’ll be in his prayers

💋though i’d like to add dutch’s reaction to yknow the supposed lover of him saying that he shoulda cut her off ages ago

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

💋i feel like people forget that milton tells arthur they couldn’t get anything out of molly , if you know micah is the rat you have to know molly isn’t

💋 off topic but i want to say i also saw someone say mary (linton) was one of the rats, i feel like people forget that mary knew arthur was never going to change for her, her missions never affects the plot, she’s always going to send the infamous letter at the start or beaver hollow, she never changed the ending you can not help her and never talk to her again and there’s still the same ending it’s all micah

@lovearthur since you got tagged in the last one 🫶🏼

#lesbian #bambiitalks #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #wlw blog #molly o'shea #molly oshea #karen jones #abigail roberts #abigail marston #sean macguire #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #micah bell #ill treat u better molly oshea

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appleiover · 2 days

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. ݁₊ ⊹ HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

previous part.

synopsis ; you have a dinner with the marquis, you get no where with him. you'll wish such stayed the same.

୨ ˙ ∘ contents. implications of murder. mentions of murder. fem!reader. 3.2k words.

notes. i swear the introductory + exposition phase is over, things will in fact be picking up! thank you!

HOW CAN A MAN BE SO BORING?

this is all you think while listening attentively. “and it is a given that you will accompany the marquis everywhere. along with staying close within his estate when he is not traveling, you will be expected to come at his beck and call when not essentially attached to his hip. your payments will be given weekly, we’ve discussed your benefits and it extends as well to your loved ones. should you have any please let me know now.” the personal lawyer of the marquis finally pauses in his long ramblings encapsulated by a thick russian accent.

you glance at him from where you stand on the pedestal of the personal tailor’s room within the continental. the tailor is doing good in taking measurements he hasn’t in quite some time. “there are none.” you reply shortly to the lawyer. the fat man nods and writes down whatever he needs onto the leather bound book in the crook of his arm with a fancy fountain pen. you extend your arms at the instruction of the tailor, your brows furrow and you look at your reflection in only a camisole and tight-fitting security shorts.

the lawyer continues. “this evening at seven p.m sharp you will accompany the marquis to a dinner where you will be sworn in to his team and his name. the moment you are sworn in, you will be untouchable, miss, and everything will be solidified.” sighing heavily as he’s been doing, perhaps because of that collar too tight around his pudgy neck, the lawyer looks up at you with a hardened and frigid expression. “do you have any questions for me, ma’am? i believe we will not meet again unless you find yourself in trouble with the marquis himself.”

for a few seconds you think. you ponder over whether or not you have questions in need of answering. only one comes to mind, you look to the lawyer while setting your arms down. though maybe it isn’t a question. “i refuse to wear the pin as i’ve refused here.” your eyes flicker to the pin on the breast of the man, then back to his dark ebony eyes. “and i know of the initiation into the hands of the marquis, i refuse to be branded as well. should the marquis have any complaints i will willingly take my bullet.” the lawyer sputters expressively for the first time, you turn away and thank the tailor that excuses you.

“i–will notify him, miss. good day.” he replies nervously, stiffly.

not returning his politeness, you nod stiffly and you walk over to the chaise. you tug on your clothing, long dark slacks and another loose blouse with buttons undone just at the cusp of the camisole’s neckline. the lawyer leaves by the time you put on your shoes and your eyes flicker to the tailor that writes down your measurements in his records. fixing what’s changed while glancing at the designs the marquis specifically ordered for your uniform when beside him. your curiosity grabs you.

“might i see the designs, martin?” you ask while fixing the slingback portion of your heels.

looking up, martin nods silently with a pleasant smile on his face.

when your hands gently lift the pages, you’re pleasantly surprised. the designs are beautiful and detailed, very meticulous from the shades wanted to the beadwork in some pieces and fabrics in others. some are dresses, some are skirts, and some are slacks. each design is beautiful and admittedly, frustratingly so, something you’d wear regardless. it irritates you while you set them down and thank the tailor, turning away and leaving the room with your heels clicking against the floor.

more eyes look at you in your steps back to your room, no doubt plenty now know of your new occupation. it’s a bit irritating but you don’t allow it to get to you. however, it’s more difficult to keep your patience when elevator doors part to reveal the manager himself. an employee leaves the elevator with a polite and formal nod to louis and you enter, looking straight ahead after giving him a polite nod. unfortunately, louis is never one to enjoy comfortability – or lack of – in silence.

“congratulations on your new job.”

your jaw tenses. “were you aware?” well, if he’s talking.

louis grins, an answer enough. “not that that is what the marquis sought you out for. but i knew your meeting would be with him.”

“thank you for the warning.” you sarcastically return with an exhale, watching the numbers move in the elevator.

a chuckle fills the air. “as if you would have listened to me.” he’s right, your silence gives him the vindication of being right. “but in any case, good luck. i do hope you don’t die, a pity to lose another valuable asset.” this brings some more irritation to you, you look to louis as the elevator dings. he looks straight ahead and he exhales deeply. “and try not to let history repeat itself, my dear. you know your taste for the french often leaves you sour in the end.”

your eyes narrow at him, without another word, you leave the elevator and don’t look back.

⠀⠀꒰ྀིㅤㅤ ಿㅤ　﹒　　 ׅ 　ㅤׂ　　 ݃　　♱ . . ݁ 　₊ 　　⊹ 　. ݁　　˖ 　.　 ݁

the driver shuts the door behind you, your eyes looking up and along the beautiful estate practically overlooking the city at one of the highest points. it’s beautiful with a long staircase leading to the entrance where guards stand and it expands so far you’re unable to tell how many rooms and bedrooms it might hold. cold air dances along your bare back exposed with the high-neck, long-sleeve floor length gown a deep crimson. a fashionable choice sent to you personally by the marquis. you were tempted to wear what you want, to be defiant knowing the marquis will essentially control you soon enough. but you decided against it. you’d rather have some tug room with the marquis and given your order to the lawyer, you might not leave alive.

that doesn’t mean you won’t fight.

you hold the bottom of the floor length gown as you walk up the steps. light bleeds out into the night atmosphere when the double doors open, your gaze looks up just halfway up the steps to meet the gaze of the fashionably dressed marquis de gramont. he looks handsome, intimidating, and powerful in a deep crimson suit of various shades of red but fitted and of expensive fabric. you try not to think too bitterly about whether the match was an intention or not, you continue walking up the steps biting back an eye roll.

“you are early, mademoiselle.” comments the marquis the moment you reach him. his hand extends, you reluctantly hand your own hand over.

“being on time is being late.” you simply reply, your brows twitching at the discomfort of his lips brushing your knuckles in a formal kiss. when he releases your hand, you drop it and fold it behind your back. subtly brushing your thumb across the skin he touched as if you might be able to wipe off the remnants of his touch. you fix the sapphire ring on your index finger and meet his deep gaze after a glance down at your attire where his eyes had fallen. “you have a good eye for fashion, sir.” you praise, not too glowing or bright as he looks you up and down as cryptically as he seems to be usually – so you currently determine.

“thank you, shall we?”

entering one of the many homes of the marquis, you look around to gauge his personality in his home. it’s beautiful and extravagant with a focus point in paintings you recognize as being more expensive than the head of the leader. beautiful cream wallpapers with red floral detailing, some splashes of gold here and there but an overall baroque style and theme to the mansion that certainly wasn’t built any time after the 1900s. you can admire the beauty of it all, you can admit the marquis has taste, but still your stomach is churning and your heart is aching, blood boiling.

the dining hall is clearly that of an era before regency. beautiful tall pillars and a long mahogany table that’s been shortened to not make for a shouting dinner. along the table, still lengthy and of good make, is a beautiful setting. ambient light provided by candles, lacy red detailings over creamy white tablecloth and golden platters beneath fine china. you nod gently at the guard that pulls out your seat, your gaze shifts to the table before you while you’re pushed in. something prickles the back of your neck, your eyes watch the marquis as he walks along the floor to his seat across from you.

a prickling sensation that something is going to happen.

“your last job was quite a big one was it not?”

your eyes look at the marquis who snaps his fingers. staff walk in with platters and wine bottles. you blink softly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat while your finger toys with the sapphire ring on your lap. “do you always make small talk with those you’re forcing into employment?” you question with a cool tone, your eyes flicker to the waitstaff that holds two bottles before you. “i don’t drink wine, thank you.” the man looks to the marquis eyeing you, the marquis waves and the man leaves you with the bottles. a woman sets down a platter before you.

“i do not partake in small talk, mademoiselle. my questions always have purpose.” the marquis replies as a red wine is poured into his glass. your eyes glance down at the meal, lamb chops with potatoes and other vegetables with a sauce not identifiable to you. it looks as delicious as it smells, but your focus shifts back to the marquis as the staff leave. “so, was it not big?”

you nod stiffly after a moment’s hesitation. “killing royalty always is. plenty of loose ends, plenty of uproar if they are beloved, plenty of problems.” you reach out, your hand gently fixes one of the salad forks before you grab a different fork and blade. “but it wasn’t anything i couldn’t handle.”

the marquis exhales after a sip of his wine, those pink lips press. “ah, yes. i was told you have never once failed an assignment, nor have you ever denied one.”

“do you know of anyone who may defy the commands of a higher up?” you ask while looking down and slicing into food you don’t plan on eating.

“she is sitting across from me.” you pause in the slicing. your eyes flicker up to him beneath your brows. the marquis smirks a lazy smirk. “mademoiselle, i am a man who can find anything on anyone. i have heard of your…disagreements with your higher ups – even those of the high table. some things that they might kill one for.”

“then wouldn’t i be dead?” you ask while you stab your fork into a piece of meat.

vincent de gramont hums, he shakes his head gently. “what breeder would put down a prize-winning dog if it bites once or twice?” your eyes narrow a bit, jaw tightening at the animal comparison. the marquis runs a hand over his sleek hair before he looks down and he brings a piece of the lamb into his mouth, you watch him carefully. that feeling still prickles at the back of your neck up to your scalp.

“does the talent of the animal matter if it’s a ticking time bomb?” you rhetorically question with a glance towards the guards at the door behind you and those at the entry to the kitchen.

he hums again. “is that what you are?”

“i’m not an animal.”

“you’ve torn the throat of a man out with your teeth haven’t you?” the marquis asks with his gaze on the meat he slices into. your brows twitch, your eyes look to the blood oozing from the meat to the fine china the silverware scrapes against. you don’t reply, mostly because he continues. “you’ve murdered many before the eyes of their family, their loved ones, their children – you’ve even murdered those unable to defend themself in the cradle for the sake of a politician’s win and gain.” bitterness crawls up your throat like bile, your stomach twists and your hands tighten around the blade as you avert your gaze to the wine glass of water.

“and does all of this have a point?” you ask with a tilt of your head, meeting his gaze with a shift of your own.

the marquis meets your gaze. “i want the one they call the second coming of the formidable. word of mouth is good…it can be quite useful and quite accurate. your reputation spreads through this world like a fire across a line of gasoline, it is why i sought you. why you are here, because word of mouth and a reputation to rival your mentor sparked my interest which is rare.”

you have to bite back a scoff again, your eyes flicker downwards to where you straighten the silver ring. instead, a bitter smile lacking any warmth or any sort of positive connotation spreads on your lips. “sir, i came here as a formality – out of duty as someone who will be beneath your employment because of an oath and promise i made to the table in ink and blood.” you lift your eyes and fold your hands on the table, elbows off. “i don’t care for your chatter, as important as you might think it is, and i care even less for whatever this praise and spewing of things i already know might mean or be. am i to be initiated or dumped in the river?”

those light, piercing eyes meet your eyes. his expression is irritatingly unreadable. you’ve always been proud of your ability to read people and yet you can’t read the marquis who sits with perfect posture, a wine glass in his dominant hand. it’s not unnerving…just unpleasant, to not be able to read him. regardless, you don’t back down. you keep your eyes on his eyes and you keep your demeanor as confident and composed as it’s always been. the marquis glances behind you, perhaps to his guards, you don’t follow his gaze but the tip of your pinky brushes the edge of your dinner knife.

“you seem content with the idea of dying.” the marquis observes. frustratingly lacking an answer still. you don’t respond, you simply stare at him expectantly. a few beats of silence in what feels like a staring contest pass. you simply continue to stare at him, your thumb gently smoothing along the sapphire. then he nods gently, sighing and placing down his wine glass. “well – you are as pleasant company as it has been rumored, mademoiselle.” is that sarcasm? this brings some humor in your chest, standing when he does. “i decided to offer you some leniency, to abide by your limits of the branding and pin. we are sorted as it is, a file will be sent to your room and i will see you tomorrow night for our flight out.”

the marquis rounds the table, you’re practically bursting with relief to no longer be confined to this atmosphere or facing him. you meet him halfway. “i understand.” you simply reply, in no mood to thank him as you hold out your hand.

he takes it, his handshake firm and warm with a softness to his skin. but unlike the prior times, he pauses and his eyes seem to do a double take of your ring. well-groomed brows furrow and a tension rips along his jaw. your eyes flicker across his features emoting quite a bit, but you’re still unable to determine any thoughts or feelings behind his gaze. except for maybe surprise. his holding of your hand becomes uncomfortable, his touch making your skin crawl and stomach grow upset. it’s only when he tries to touch the ring that you pull your hand away with irritation, annoyance. maybe it’s evident in your face, maybe it isn’t. but you feel it with a step away from him.

looking at you cryptically, the marquis blinks and rolls his shoulders once before he places his hands behind his back. “let me walk you back to the car, mademoiselle.” you eye the marquis for a few steps, look down at your hand that stings, then to him with a furrow in your brow. what the hell was that about…you think before you simply shrug it away and proceed to follow him. you can worry about the marquis and analyze this dinner later.

cold air hits you outside, you turn to face the marquis and he speaks with his hand in his slacks pocket and a bit of a lazy posture to his tall frame. “we will leave for vienna in the late evening. i suggest you get your affairs in order here before we leave new york – it will be some time before we return.”

“i understand. i will be ready.” you reply shortly. then you nod in a formal manner, and you turn around.

you get only ten steps down, a cold breeze brings goosebumps to your skin and the smell of the marquis’s cologne to your senses. “where is it that you got that ring, mademoiselle?” the marquis’s voice fills the cold night air occupied only by chirping crickets and the distant sounds of traffic. curiosity and suspiciousness sparks in your head in an instant. lifting your hand to look at the ring you’ve not taken off for quite some time, you turn your head and look up at the marquis over your shoulder. he’s shadowed by the lights of his mansion behind him, both hands in the pockets of his slacks. “i could not help but notice the carvings, i have never seen a ring like it.”

for a few moments, you’re silent. you contemplate offering him honesty. you despise this man more than anyone else to currently exist in your mind, all your body feels is the reactions a junkie going through a withdrawal might feel when you’re faced with the man you more or less swore to kill just months ago in your grief and mourning. the ink on your back and branding ache, your chest the same and the ring feels heavier on your hand. you despise the marquis and the idea of death for the promise of his head sounds alluring but you recall the oath you were stupid enough to make. your brows furrow and you exhale sharply.

you’re stuck. you’re trapped in a cage, the key now belonging to the marquis. to fight against it would be fruitless ultimately, a waste of time. you’d be lucky if all he would do is clip your wings.

your eyes meet his. “i can’t remember.” you lie. you’re stuck in this cage, but you’re not doing more than what you’re required to do.

he hums, clearly displeased. “you are lying.” the marquis states as if saying the sky is blue. like it is pure fact.

and you shrug gently with only a slight push of your left shoulder. “you cannot prove that.” you tilt your head down just a fraction of an inch. then you turn and walk away. “till tomorrow.” it unsettles you, that feeling that something is going to happen that prickles the back of your neck still remains. yet nothing happened.

maybe it's just a matter of time.

part three.

#marquis vincent de gramont x reader #the marquis x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont

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