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sukunasweetheart · 6 months

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the whole court and justice system stuff going on right now in jjk is giving me ideas for modern au where criminal!sukuna put on trial for some heinous deeds he's done... but upon a fated happenstance he gets to hire the most perfect and competent defence lawyer who manages to somehow get him out of the situation as a free and innocent man. and being the charismatic and so very thoughtful man that he is, he decides he wants to do something for you in return...

warnings; female reader, smut, oral fem!receiving, mentions of murder and killing, dubcon-ish, morally corrupted reader, mildly submissive sukuna, male masturbation, cum in panties

words: 2.3k

criminal!sukuna, who's showing you gratitude in the only way he knows how... somewhere in a secluded room with the door locked behind. he sinks to his knees and hikes up your skirt, slides your panties down...

criminal!sukuna, who's kneeling down while your back is against the wall, one of your legs propped up on his shoulder as he eats you out so good that you're shuddering and twitching with every flicker of his tongue against your clit...

criminal!sukuna, who is getting drunk on the taste of you on his tongue, disregarding the fact that his face is beginning to sweat from the heat between your legs, and his cock is so hard that it hurts right now.

criminal!sukuna, who pulls out orgasm after orgasm out of you, not minding your slick that dribbles down his chin from doing so.

(how far will you let him take this?)

sukuna hadn't really cared much, whether he were to be ruled as innocent or be judged as guilty and sent to prison. he really was just planning on going with the flow, whichever direction life threw him in-- he's not one to cry and throw a tantrum over spoiled milk... if he gets locked up, so be it, he'd either find a way to cunningly get back out or he'd probably rise to the top amongst the inmates inside.

so even when he was introduced to you, a famously proficient defence lawyer and the top in your field, he wasn't expecting much from you at all.

but upon his first meeting with you, you managed to pique his interest when you confessed that you didn't give a fuck whether he's actually a criminal or not. as long as he's paying good money, you're going to get him out with 100% innocence. and to do that, you'll need a bit of his cooperation and honesty. whatever information you ask for, he needs to provide. so you can either slip it under the rug, or use it to your advantage in court.

he already thinks you're pretty fuckin' sexy. your formal and classy lawyer fit, tight ass pencil skirt... he'd like to get under it. your snobby and overly professional attitude. hah. he'd like to rip that away from you and see what's underneath all of it.

but for now, he does as you advise of him.

there were many instances where masses of journalists with their obnoxious mics and flashing cameras surrounded sukuna while he was getting moved from place to place with cuffs on his hands. he remained expressionless, all while thinking of how nice it would feel to paint the concrete floors with the blood of all these people. he'd even spare one of them, so they could publish whatever rubbish story they wanted. let the whole world know what he is.

and amongst all those who were against him, there really was only you. he's not quite used to this feeling, of having someone at his defence. he's never really needed it until he eventually slipped up and a detective caught onto his trail. he spent a considerable amount of time with you one-on-one.

while he was detained for a time before the trial began, there were times you visited him because you needed some confirmation on some of the information you had, but you also wanted to give him some advice on how he should answer questions when he was being interrogated.

"well, aren't i lucky to have a visitor with such a pretty face? nothing but unsightly insects and the stench of men in this filthy place," sukuna crooned with mischief in his tone, sitting himself down in front of you as a thin transparent wall separated the two of you.

"endure it. you won't be here for long after all."

god, he'd never seen someone with more confidence than himself in a long while. he wondered how you'd look if you did end up losing the trial. what a humiliation that would be. but something inside him said that you were going to prevail. his gut feelings are usually never wrong.

he's still quite nonchalant about it all, but oh boy, when he's sat next to you in court and watches you defend him against the prosecutor in front of a crowd for the first time... it does something to him. your voice, confident and clearly audible, how you articulate your words... all for his sake? (not really. but you get what i mean.)

"i know being cocky is your whole theme... but it'd be helpful if you could refrain from smirking or looking unapologetic during the trial. to get the jury on our side." you'd told him.

and he's trying, he really is (kind of...), but the corners of his mouth keep rising every time you debunk a piece of evidence presented by the prosecutor with ease. their expressions are really amusing. it's obvious how frustrated they are getting.

then he also thinks about what you'd said to him after that.

"ah, but perhaps... the media will favour you a bit better. they're always biased towards handsome faces. and don't underestimate the public's influence on court rulings."

you'd called him handsome, in such a matter of fact way. not that it was a rare occurrence- but something about you openly admitting it with your rigid personality had him going in a way no one else could.

in a matter of weeks, the tables had turned completely, and the court ruled him as an innocent man.

triumphant, you gathered your documents neatly put them in one pile. he's declared free to go, and while the place slowly empties of people, you meet sukuna in a now empty hall.

"so, you've set me free. knowing that i really was the one who did it," he voices dangerously, with a smirk. "i'd have to say, it's foolish thing to do. what if i made you my next victim? criminals know no courtesy, after all."

"you paid me a hefty sum. i don't do this for courtesy, you should know this by now. if i die by the hands of someone i defended, then so be it. i'll gladly bear the consequences of my own actions."

part of him wants to test your words. but it'd be such a waste to have you dead. right now, he's aching for something else.

"bold statement. you're not even a bit afraid? my cuffs have been off for a while now." you don't flinch even as he reaches out and palms your cheek. his hand is warm.

"not at all. you've been the most unreadable criminal i've defended, but after speaking to you for a while, i believe i've gotten better at interpreting your expressions."

"you've been reading me like a book, hey? well, enlighten me. i'm interested in hearing your thoughts."

"i may know what you want, but i don't plan on giving it to you. that's one line i don't cross with my clients."

"...oh yeah? well, good thing i'll be the one giving instead. how about we find an empty room first?"

"i don't need-"

"or should we do it here? do you like being an exhibitionist?"

you purse your lips together and give him a stern look, arms crossed.

"c'mon sweetheart. keep staring at me like that, and i'll get hard."

"enough. i have another client waiting."

"i'm sure you do. so i'll make it quick. you deserve a little something after all that hard work."

in the end, he successfully drags you off to a secluded room, somewhere in the building.

which finally brings you to present time...

sukuna's knees are probably going to be bruised later on. but at the moment, he doesn't feel a thing. all he can feel is arousal when he hears your whines and moans that seem so unlike you. gripping at his head, full body twitching as he sucks around your puffy and swollen clit, every huffing breath he takes in having the scent of you drenched in it.

you reach your third orgasm while standing in his manner, and he groans deeply as he feels it, your cunt pulsing against his lips.

you're clasping a hand over your mouth, but your muffled noises are still audible. deep down, you're starting to admit that perhaps you needed this, after all. sukuna was undeniably attractive, and you'd been constantly reminding yourself that he was but a murderer with blood on his hands... all for your efforts to come crashing down now.

it feels too good. he's getting you hot and bothered in a way no one else does. his hands palm and grope your asscheeks, touching whatever he can. whatever you'll let him.

once your clit begins to get too sensitive that it hurts, you have to push him away. and when he comes out from under your skirt, you take quite the liking to the state of his disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, your slick shining on his chin, and his glassy eyes. your leg comes off his shoulder, and the two of you are panting for a full minute before saying anything.

"fuck... i'll be honest, it was better than i thought it would be," you tell him, chest still rising up and down from the sexual high.

"bet it was. it's the least i could do after you were so good to me..." sukuna responds teasingly with a hoarse voice, looking up at you with his knees still against the floor, grinning.

you stare back, until your eyes wander down to the outline of his dick in his pants, clearly strained by the fabric.

"and what about you?" you ask with plenty a playfulness in your tone, smiling so gracefully. his cock visibly throbs when you mention it. you nudge it, gently dragging the tip of your toe up it's shape, still wearing your heels. sukuna doesn't hate it. in fact, he has to swallow up a moan coming from the back of his throat.

"feeling gracious enough to help relieve me?" he says with a cloudy haze in his eyes, grabbing your ankle with one of his calloused hands.

"hmm...not really. but i'm willing to watch you do it yourself."

"how perverted. to think you were so opposed to this, minutes before-"

you press down harder against his erection using the sole of your heel, and he groans, unable to stop himself this time.

"is that a no?"

"...if you'll let me finish in your panties, i will," he relents.

you give it some thought. and then you agree to it.

sukuna stands, and he stands close, towering over you with his height. he wastes no time in unbuckling himself.

revealing his thick cock, you marvel at its size and the way its drooling precum, veins running along its side and twitching against his palm. he begins to stroke himself. other hand against the wall behind you, he starts jacking off like he would if no one were around. like you're not there right in front of him.

you watch with a small smile, staring at his hand that goes up and down his erection at a fast pace. staring down at his leaking tip. listening to his small grunts and the wet sound of him fucking his fist.

then your gaze begins to wander. your eyes trail up and up, reaching his face, where you realise that he's looking directly at you. lust in his irises. your reflection shining in both those pupils of his.

sukuna hasn't touched himself in a while. he's never really needed to. but with a few words from you, he willingly obliged. now when you meet his eyes like that, he can't resist leaning down for a messy kiss with you, all while mumbling "mm..fuck-" against your lips.

he angles his hips closer to your pussy, making it so that every stroke makes his tip catch onto your clitoris. his hand speeds up. you hitch in a breath at the tension, at how close he is, as he's basically leaning into you now.

"i'm close... open up," he mutters into your ear, breaking the kiss.

your panties are hanging between your thighs, and you slip them up a little more up for him. his breathing starts to get faster.

"shit... 'm cumming-"

he aims it to the fabric of your underwear, and releases. sukuna groans deeply, twisting his hand towards the head of his bulbous tip as he spurts rope after rope of his seed on, hips jerking and dick throbbing with every hot string that comes out.

your hole clenches around nothing at the sight. there's so much. you're slightly starting to regret agreeing to this. it might seep out if he continues letting out this much.

thankfully, he comes to a stop soon. he squeezes himself for one last drop, and then his cock starts softening in his hand.

"all done?" you ask.

"every last drop." he watches you with a smirk as you pull it up. the warmth of it hits your cunt and you hide the way it feels arousing. he also tucks himself back in.

"now i'm running late," you say with a frown, taking a quick look at your wristwatch.

"so you actually had someone waiting?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"of course. why would i lie about that?"

the thought of you seeing another client with his sticky mess between your legs makes him a little hard again. you start heading off to the door, but he blocks your way.

"we'll be seeing each other again, won't we?"

"i don't know. will we?"

"of course we will," he offers slyly. "i'll have you choking on my dick, next time."

he's very adamant about it, and it doesn't seem like he'll let you through unless you give some sort of agreement to him.

"we'll see about that," you tell him. and then you follow it up with a small kiss to his cheek, which stuns him slightly. you make your way out the door and he stands as he listens to your footsteps that get further and further away.

...he knew that jerking off once would be far from enough for him. he regrets not asking for your panties instead.

Masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

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doobean · 8 months

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HIM & HIM - SAE ITOSHI + OLIVER AIKU

synopsis: You're a tired-out office worker who often relieves yourself from the mundanes in life through clubbing and going to local bars. Little did you know that one night you would be approached by two men and an offer that you can't deny.

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, sex worker!oliver, sex worker!sae, semi-public sex (nightclub bathroom), double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, face grabbing, slight hair pulling, nipple play, ass slapping, usage of aphrodisiacs, unprotected, overstimulation, degradation, name calling (slut), rimming/anal fingering, blowjobs, hand jobs, cumming in ass, facials, kinda proofed mdni word count: 3.5K a/n: part 2 of my kinktober event! nevermind maybe this is the nastiest thing I've ever written?? i gave up and am now using words cock and pussy because who can stop me?? no one gets emotionally hurt in this one - sorry to everyone who got sad over my first kinktober fic :(

It shouldn’t be a crime with how often you find yourself going to nightclubs every weekend. You’re simply letting yourself loose — from all of life’s hardships and the insane amount of unpaid overtime that you’re expected to work at your corporate company.

You should’ve known it was too good to be true when they misspelled your name in their welcome letter.

And now, with two years down the drain, you feel like the only way you can properly destress is by spending two hours at a random bar and then on their dance floor every week. Some of your friends might suggest going to therapy but who would want to get a therapist specifically for work? That sounds like too much to juggle around. You could also quit, but the job market is absolutely ass right now so why would anyone want to do that?

Searching for your new weekly playground also doesn’t take too much effort versus sifting through various shitty therapists either. You always do a bit of background research before settling on one; it has to offer good drinks at a reasonable price point, the DJs and performers have to be people that you’re familiar with, a dress code would be nice to get rid of some weird guys, and has to have hot guys there. After all, that’s one of the hidden reasons why you love going out solo to these clubs.

And your mission for tonight? Flirt with some guys, get free drinks, and get shitfaced.

Seventh Heaven is currently the talk of the town. Having it finished its grand opening almost a month ago, you’ve been seeing it all over your social media pages non-stop. Not only did it fit your criteria, but everyone kept raving about their escorts — male and female alike. You never thought about paying for entertainment, so it wasn't necessarily high on your priority list, but you'd be dishonest to yourself if it didn't pique your interest.

As the night finally arrives, and as you step into the venue, immediately captivated by the grandeur of the place. The elegant decor, the subdued lighting, and the hum of conversations create an atmosphere that feels both exclusive and inviting. Your legs take you straight over to the bar, where you start your friendly banter with the bartender.

Luckily, the dress you’re wearing has never failed you in getting free drinks. “What should I do to get a margarita around here?” You bat your lashes.

The bartender doesn’t say anything and hands you a sweating glass. You take a sip of it from where you stand, eyes wandering the room and scanning for easy men to prey on. Your eyes dart from table to table, most of the men were already preoccupied by other women. It seems like you aren’t the only one with this idea for tonight. You sigh, shoulders slumping, as you realize that it might take a while for your next free drink. You’re about to pull out your phone to keep your attention preoccupied until—

“Would you be interested in having sex with us?”

You nearly choke on your drink, the tequila burning your nose and throat as you cough down the remaining liquid. You feel a pat on your back and look up. The large hand belongs to a tall, heterochromatic man with wispy hair, he’s smiling ear to ear. Behind him stood a smaller, slender man with sharp features and strikingly teal eyes. Surely, these men weren’t talking to you?

“I-I’m sorry?” You have to do a double-take because wow do they make guys this attractive anymore?

The other man sighs and steps over to remove his hand from your back. “You’re too impatient, Oliver.”

The man named Oliver pouts. “I only said one sentence, Sae.”

“You were being rude.”

“That’s rich coming from you—”

You clear your throat, now seemingly confused about the situation unraveling in front of you. “What’s happening exactly?”

They both pause and exchange knowing looks.

You clutch your drink close, eyeing the two men and ignoring the rising heat from your legs. “And why me?”

“You’ve only been glancing at tables with women surrounded by men.” Oliver leans forward and winks. “We might have the same idea for tonight, yeah?” His charm is oozing, it’s contagious. You can feel your knees buckling underneath from his smile.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you’ve had sex. Dating is out of the question due to being overworked and hookups are always a hit-or-miss. Though seeing that these men are staff members from their shared uniform, you would be stupid enough to turn down such an offer. These must be the men that people were talking about.

This week has been overwhelming and taxing on your mental health and you could use a nice break right now. The drink isn’t helping you forget about life that much.

“I’m not a fan of threesomes, so you guys better change my mind by the end of tonight.”

You didn’t question much as they directed you into a bathroom by the far end of the nightclub. It’s spacious, the floor is layered in black tiles, and definitely isn’t just meant for doing your business. The walls are covered in noise-cancellation plush foam, paintings of nude men and women scattered across the place, and there is a small fridge filled to the brim with rolled-up towels by the corner.

“Well, don’t just stand there—” Your back presses against the sink’s counter, spreading your legs slowly for the two men in front of you with a tease of a smile on your plush lips. “—fuck me already.”

Sae reacts first, rolling his eyes at your words before leaning forward and capturing your lips with his. Your arms and hands work fast and, in an instant, you’re tugging at his shirt and belt buckle while crashing your body into his. His calloused hands mimic your frantic motions, grazing and eagerly grabbing the flesh of your waist, thighs, and eventually settling and kneading your ass. You originally thought he would come off as the shy, vanilla type compared to his friend but you’re gladly taken aback.

You groan against his mouth as he nibbled lightly against your lips, tongue immediately invading the open space given to him. You’ve hardly touched him but you can already feel his painfully hard length pressing against your legs. Instinctively, you spread your legs wider for him to grind on your clothed folds, moaning at the familiar built-up sensation.

“Can’t believe you’re hard for me already.” You coo against his lips, chuckling when he pulls back with the slightest frown etched on his face.

The playfulness in your tone is immediately replaced by a breathy moan when his fingers plunge against your sloppy folds, pressing tightly. Sae leans in and starts leaving small bites along the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Says the slut who wants us inside of her right now,” Sae mumbles against your warm skin.

You poise your tongue, ready for a comeback, before letting out another groan when Oliver appears beside you, forcing your hand away from Sae’s neck and placing it on his leaking cock. The taller male hisses in pleasure at the feeling and bends down to meet your glossy gaze.

“Gotta take care of me too, sweetheart.” Oliver breathes into your ear, the scent of his cologne makes your head fuzzy, and he buckles his cock further into your palm. “We’ll fill you up but it’s me that’s gonna make you cum.”

Sae’s grip on your ass tightens up at the declaration, he snaps his head up and throws Oliver a furrowed brow. Your moans come out in a series of shudders as Sae’s fingers easily pull your panties down your thighs, leaving behind trails of slick from your dripping heat. You bite back your volume and jolt in pleasure when his fingers start ghosting over your entrance but his sight never leaves Oliver’s face.

“Keep count, will you? I’ll be the first one do to so.” His voice stays leveled despite the apparent dark glint over his teal eyes, almost as if he was going to devour you in and out throughout the coming night.

“Yeah?” Oliver purr against your ear, his large hand finding home at the small of your back and his other assisting your occupied hand on his cock, pumping it slow and steady. Pleasure shoots down your stomach at the sight of his leaking tip and the way it throbs in your hand. Oliver laughs when he notices you shuffling between the two of them, the sweet scent from your folds drawing both of them in. “You want me first, baby?”

Sae’s hand forces your face up, directly in line with his. His expression stays deadpanned as he taps your cheek with his thumb. “Answer carefully.”

You lick your lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Both.”

Oliver laughs and Sae merely hums in satisfaction. Your grip and pace on Oliver’s length fasten as Sae leans in, continuing to ravage the space between your shoulders and neck all while his digits begin sliding into your cunt. You twitch as Sae’s breath stops momentarily at the feeling of the velvety walls inside, taking in every single detail as your legs start to give out from underneath.

“So fucking filthy,” Sae groans at the wet sounds below and starts scissoring his fingers inside.

The combination of his thick fingers and the feeling makes your eyes blow wide, unable to formulate sentences, and you find yourself grasping at Sae’s shirt in order to ground yourself. He’s teasing, it’s tanalizing with the slow pace he’s set for you. There’s something mysterious and addicting about Sae’s aura that makes you want to please him so that he spares you his time.

Right now, from what you can tell, he wants you to say what you want otherwise he’ll continue to stay slow.

His teal eyes bore into yours as you grind yourself shamelessly down his fingers with a loud whine. “Make me cum—I wanna cum…”

Oliver moves closer, his stubble grazing above, and places a chaste kiss on top of your head. “Guess you’re taking the first point for tonight.”

Sae ignores his friend’s commentary and silently nods at your request. As you hump against his fingers desperately, Sae goes in and captures your lips before picking up his pace inside of you. Your other hand is currently lathered up in Oliver’s pre, who’s seemingly also enjoying the sight of you taking everything in. His hand on your back roams and stops at your clothed breasts, massaging the soft mounds, and exhales by your ear.

“You’re doing so good. Do you know how wet you sound right now?” He coos.

You couldn’t say anything back, gasping for air as Sae’s tongue occupied your mouth, and merely tugged at Oliver’s length faster. When his fingers dig and curl at a familiar spongy part of your walls, you roll your head back and let the warm coiled feeling take over. Your head starts to feel hazy, and your body thumps as Sae continues to work you toward your orgasm. It’s not until Oliver starts toying with your hardened buds that you come undone all over the other male’s digits, the sounds from your mouth are full of cursed obscenities and saccharine moans.

“Look at the mess you made,” Sae pulls his fingers out and glances down at his lap. Your slick is sticking all over his forearm and upper thighs, it’s absolutely drenched and you didn’t think you were able to reach that level of pleasure before.

Sae watches you carefully as your chest rises heavily, your face flushed and tears smearing the makeup you had carefully put on earlier in the night.

Oliver takes a seat on top of the toilet lid, a hand patting his lap and the other stroking his cock. “Just for you, princess.”

You’re still high off of your orgasm but you feel yourself nodding, babbling nonsense from your mouth as you position yourself facing away from him, angling the tip of his length from behind. Your vision goes teary again. It’s barely even all the way in and yet—

“Shit, did you just cum again?” The tight feeling of your walls fluttering around Oliver makes him moan. He places both of his hands around your waist and guides you further down his length, hissing through his teeth when you finally bottom him out. “So warm, so fucking tight, sweetheart.”

With the angling done right, he’s slamming deep into you over and over again, each stroke eliciting little whimpers from your mouth. Slick is dripping down your thighs and onto his lap, but he doesn't seem to notice, and you couldn't care less since you're fascinated with the thickness of his cock and how beautifully he fits inside of you. You absolutely love the sensation of him sliding in and out of you, nearly fucking you like a toy, and having total and complete power over you while mumbling praise into your ear.

Sae stands in front and there’s a slight annoyance that’s written across his face as he stares down at you. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “That easy to please?”

His cock springs free from his pants, his head red and covered in pre. While he isn’t as large as Oliver’s, it is certainly pretty, nicely trimmed, and has a thick vein running along its side. Sae tries to control his breathing as your hands suddenly wrap around his aching cock. As you swallow him whole into your warm, wet lips, Sae groans while looking into your half-lidded eyes. His hands instantly fly to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing his hips further into your mouth, not paying much attention to the way drool is now seeping out of the corners of your lips.

Sae cursed under his breath when you reach down to fondle with his balls gently, massaging the flesh into your palms. You continue to hollow out your cheeks, bobbing your head down his length while Oliver slams against your cervix again. Your constant moans send vibrations down his length and it’s so intense that he has to pull away, his stomach flexes in the process.

“Switch with me,” Sae barks at the other male but is only met with a chuckle.

“Fuck no, she’s too good for you,” A hard slap on your ass sends a shockwave through your body. “You can keep fucking her sloppy mouth.”

But that didn’t stop Sae from getting what he wanted. He grabs your wrist and pulls you out of Oliver’s grasp before sharply turning you around. Sae’s hands rest on your shoulders, the applied pressure from him indicates that he wants you to sit back down on Oliver’s length. You silently follow along, feeling his intense gaze from behind, and wrap your arms around Oliver’s neck for support as you edge yourself down. You’re whining again, still not used to having something so thick and filling inside, and Oliver leans in, kissing you on the cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

“Told you he’s the rude one,” He murmurs teasingly.

“Be quiet,” You can imagine Sae rolling his eyes.

You whine louder when you feel a sudden wet muscle brush over your ass. It’s Sae’s tongue. He’s making lazy circles around your other hole, before slipping a finger easily in. You clench yourself tightly around Oliver at the new feeling. You haven’t realized that your asshole is much more sensitive and you can’t help but move your hips, wanting more.

One finger. Then two. And three.

Sae moves them slowly from inside, curling them and stretching out your hole for a few seconds before retracting. Within moments, you feel his cock probing at your entrance, causing you to moan and wither against the larger male.

“You can take it, don’t act like you don’t want to get filled up by two guys.” Sae pushes the first inch forward, inhaling a deep breath when it goes in with minimal resistance.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you with every forward movement. Your legs begin to shake from the build-up pressure from both holes. You’re gasping loudly, struggling to breathe as your eyes shut tight, and your mouth goes slack from the intensity that it almost hurts.

Your loud wails are quickly silenced by Oliver’s hand, his thick digits shove their way into your mouth as he continues to bounce your shaky figure down his hardened shaft.

Tears begin to blur your vision at the intensity of it all, the aching feeling from your hips, ass, and cunt from the constant stimulation is getting to you. Just when you thought this was the height of it, Oliver pulls out a small glass vial from the pocket of his shirt. It’s a clear substance, unlabeled, and you’re sure it’s not regulated by any means with the look he’s giving you right now. Sae slows down his pace from behind and you feel his chest rumble lowly against your back, seemingly knowing what might happen next.

“Sweetheart,” Oliver’s free palm caresses your flushed cheek, a more careful and delicate touch compared to earlier. His hand stops at your mouth, thumbs rubbing softly over your lips in his way of coaxing you to open up and chuckling when you easily obey. “Gonna make you feel good, I promise.”

Luckily, the substance didn’t have a taste to it. The texture is almost like water and it flows down your throat with ease. What you didn’t expect is the drug taking effect on you almost immediately. As if your body has risen in temperature, you start to heavily pant, hands gripping Oliver’s sleeves while you lean further back against Sae’s firm chest. The two men both let out groans of their own when you start spasming from the inside, their cocks fighting with your hot walls.

Slowly, they begin to pick up their initial pace. Oliver watches as your mouth goes slack, pools of drool spilling out, and eyes roll back. And, while he knows he should let your body adjust to the change, the sight of you all fucked out is enough to drive him crazy and he quickly finds himself slamming into you, a force so strong that it makes Sae break his focus.

“Stop hogging her all to yourself,” Sae snaps.

“Maybe you should try harder, no?” Oliver’s free hand settles on your breast, toying the nipple between his thick digits, earning a squeal from you. “Or else we’re gonna be here all night.”

His comment spurs Sae and he finds himself speeding up, fucking your ass deeper and messier than before. All signs of his previous stoic emotions melt away as his hand reaches to grab a fistful of your locks, tugging it harshly followed by a sharp slap on the flesh of your ass.

You can’t contain your cries, sobbing loudly in pleasure as both of your entrances elevate to another level of sensitive heights.

“Oh—! Yesyesyes give it to me…!”

“I knew you could take it,” Oliver latches his mouth onto your breast, dual-colored eyes looking up as he twirls his tongue around your pebbled nipple. “Such a good fucking girl, taking two cocks at once.”

Your walls are spasming uncontrollably around them. “I-I’m gonna—” Your nails dig deep into Oliver’s forearms, leaving behind half-crescent marks as you moan louder, wordlessly begging both males not to stop.

Your toes start to curl, and your mouth drops as your third orgasm strikes you after one final, expertly aimed stroke against a particular area inside of you. It’s loud, messy, and incomprehensible, and Oliver groans when you press closer to him. You release yourself all over his cock, the pool of liquid drenching his lap. You find yourself reaching another orgasm as Sae reaches over, hand gripping tightly around your throat, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Your ass is mine, you understand?”

Your eyes roll back, nodding numbly. “Yes—oh my god—it’s yours!” And another wave comes, the coil in your abdomen snaps and you clamp down around the two men again.

Oliver continues snapping his hips into your cunt, a few seconds after, you notice his pace is a bit more feverish and out of focus. Sweat is dripping profusely down his face and he smirks. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to tap out soon.”

Sae’s palms rest on either side of your ass, kneading the flesh deeply. “Fuck—”

Oliver quickly pulls out and streams of white warm spurts hit across your face as Sae fills you up from behind. You can feel him twitch inside you and tighten his hold on your body as he spills out his last drops inside. For a while, the three of you stayed stationary, labored breathing, and mirror foggy from the long session. It’s not until when Sae pulls out that Oliver decides to also get up.

Sae grabs a warm towel from a small fridge in the corner of the room and begins cleaning up your face while Oliver adjusts your dress straps back on. You couldn’t ignore how soft and tender both men are acting despite what just happened. You sigh in relief, your heart and senses calming down from the drug and your last orgasm, as you struggle to stand.

“Next week,” You murmur, looking at them with doe eyes, between heavy breathing. “Will you guys be here again next week?”

Maybe you can endure your shitty office job if they’re around.

KINKTOBER TAGLIST (PART II)

@milkistoshi @mareonyan @saenora @blissblossom @wowonamo

#doobean:kinktober23 #bllk #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #oliver aiku #oliver aiku smut #sae itoshi smut #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae smut #blue lock smut #cw: drugs #oliver aiku x reader #doobean writes

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bloodynereid · 1 year

Text

Rulebreaker

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem!reader

a/n: there is a criminally low amount of warren fics and daisy jones & the six fics in general so I'm trying to rectify that. also I listened to the Aurora album on repeat when writing this so if you haven't listened to it already go do that. requests are open for all characters if you want to send anything in. i also love chatting with all of you so send in ur opinions or thoughts :)

tw: mentions of period typical misogyny, cigarette smoking, swearing

description: the night you met warren rojas, all of your rules fly out of the window.

Y/N: Being a female producer in the 70s was… how to put it delicately… absolute shit. But I tried my best. I had a list of rules to live by: don’t date anyone related to my job, never stay later than 7pm, always have more than one person in the room with you and never drink on the job. Not even coffee. I broke most of those rules the night I met Warren Rojas.

It was 9pm (rule break #1) and you had just finished mixing one of the last songs for an album you were going to show George tomorrow. You were about to head home with a cup of coffee (rule break #2) you had snatched from the snack room when suddenly one of the doors to the recording rooms slammed open and a whole gang of people poured out. The noise had startled you so much that the cup in your hand sloshed and hotstingburnoww the liquid fell onto your hand.

“Shit!” You had realized in the last moment that your little expletive caught the attention of the last people milling out, a curly haired guy and one of best known producers of the time, Teddy Price, otherwise known as your mentor. “Oh hey Teddy.”

“Y/N! I don’t think I’ve seen you here this late before.”

“Just had to finish mixing a song you know me.”

“Oh I do. That’s why it’s surprising.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and then looked over to the man standing next to him.

“Who’s the new band? Haven't seen them around here before.”

“The Six. This is Warren Rojas, their drummer. This is Y/N L/N, she’s one of the best producers out there.”

“You flatter me too much. It’s nice to meet you, Warren.”

“You too.”

“Either of you need a ride? I’m heading out soon.”

“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just go with the band.”

“Yeah I’ve got my bike.”

“You parked close?” Teddy asked with his usual protective tone.

“Just a 5 minute walk.”

“I would walk you but I’ve got to finish looking over some tapes.”

“I’m heading the same way. We can go over together.”

“You sure?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee.

“Yeah, I’m sure the band can wait.”

“Great. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Bye Teddy.”

“See you.”

You and Warren set off to navigate through the maze of recording rooms and offices. (rule break #3) He had lit up a cigarette and when he offered you one, you graciously took it, throwing out the finished coffee cup.

“So if you don’t mind me asking. Why do you call yourselves the Six if there’s only 5 of you?” Warren laughed and looked at you with a smile.

“I honestly have no idea. Something about there already being too many iconic bands with the number five in them.”

“Right well, I can’t be one to judge anyway, I can't even sing.”

“I can’t either so I think we’re on the same playing field here.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder. So he was funny on top of being ridiculously attractive.

“So how did you get into producing?” And he wasn’t being a anti-feminist asshole, unlike SO MANY people in this industry.

“Well I liked music and I would record demos for my brothers when I could. It was honestly just pure luck. I met Teddy when I was interviewing to be a secretary here. He taught me some of the ropes and then persuaded the big bosses to hire me. I really only produce for smaller names but… it’s my passion, you know.”

“As part of a smaller name, we appreciate your help.” He said with a mischievous smile whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shush. So I guess now it’s only fair to ask how you got into The Six?”

“Well, Graham got us into this band when we were like 14 and then he persuaded his brother, Billy, to join. Then some random dude convinced us to head out here and try our luck with Teddy Price so here I am. We actually used to be called The Dunne Brothers and then we changed it for some reason, I think we all collectively decided against that name one night at a diner.”

“Well if you’re getting produced by Teddy then you have to have at least a modicum of talent.”

“Don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

“Take it as you want.” His eyes flickered under the streetlights as you made your way out onto the street. Warren Rojas has a majestic quality to him and well, he was also nice and exactly your type. Okay so maybe rule number #1 was meant to be broken.

“Warren! Hurry up man or we’re leaving without you.” A man yelled from one of the parked vans. He was leaning out of the window and pushing on the car horn.

“Well it seems my luck is still going strong cause that’s my bike.” You point at the black motorcycle that is parked next to the colorful van. He sent you a beaming smile as you both wandered over to where your separate vehicles lay.

“So will I be seeing you again?”

“We work in the same building so probably.”

“You know what I mean.” I stamped out the cigarette and winked at him.

“I might come around to see how you sound tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to be playing the drums to the best of my ability.”

“I'm sure you’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” You smirked at him as swung your jean clad leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key in the ignition.

“Warren!”

“Yeah yeah, one second. Give me your arm.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re really pretty and I want to give you my number.”

“How do you know I’ll use it?”

“I’m taking a gamble.”

“It seems like you take a lot of those.”

You held out your arm anyways and let him scribble down his number in black ink. Your helmet went over your head after he finished and you looked down at the list of numbers with a little heart next to them. So he was a sap as well.

“I’ll be seeing you, Warren Rojas.”

“I sure hope so, Y/N L/N.” You smiled and gave him a little wave before revving off. But not before you heard a last: “Warren! What the hell man I’m starving over here.” Which made you chuckle.

Y/N: I ended up going to that recording session the next day. And the next and the next. Teddy even let me mix a few of the songs. I also wrote down his number immediately after I got home. I’m pretty sure I still have the receipt where it’s written on somewhere. Anyways I ended up breaking that first rule after the tour. Warren asked me out when we were surfing. Actually I was surfing and Warren was trying to. God that was a beautiful day.

Warren: The sun was just about to set and I had given up trying to surf so Y/N and I were just sitting on our boards watching the sky turn different colors. We had been friends since that night Teddy introduced us and I was obviously attracted to her. But it was then when I realized I was in love with her. I ended up asking her to marry me at that exact same spot a few years later.

Y/N: I immediately said yes, both times. Warren and I just work. He is like a part of me I can’t bear the thought of losing.

Warren: I love her with my entire self and more. I can’t see my life any other way. I think one of the greatest things that came out of the band was not just the music but it also led me to my soulmate.

Y/N: Rule breaking is really one of the best things I could have done. I met my other half and worked with people I would consider my family. Sometimes plans just aren’t meant to be followed.

Y/N Rojas is one of the top producers in the music industry. She shared producer credits with Teddy Price on Aurora and has gone on to produce some of the biggest names in the 80s and 90s. Currently she lives on a houseboat with her husband, Warren, the former drummer of Daisy Jones & The Six and their twins, Teddy and Karen. She owns a music label (Reconstitution Records) which will be producing the newest album of the reunited band, Daisy Jones & The Six.

hopefully I did Warren justice cause it's my first time writing for him

taglist: (lmk if you want to be added to the warren taglist or general daisy jones & six taglist)

@pinkdaiisies @just1riqht

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raibebe · 1 year

Text

Cloud nine

Genre: suggestive Words: 1.821 Prompt: pilot Jaemin x female reader Warnings: :] none..? A cock is getting touched through fabric?

A/N: Yeah :] raibebe comeback? I guess? This is basically all foreplay and I'm just edging you guys for the smut :]

“Psst, hey,” your coworker hissed while she was preparing a drink for someone seated in first class, confidently handling the wine glass despite the movement of the plane. “What?” You giggled, looking up from the book you were reading while most of the people on the flight had gone to sleep, meaning you finally had some time to yourself between crying children and Karens complaining about stuff you couldn’t change in the first place. “Come over here.” “What’s gotten into you?” You shook your head but walked over anyway, huddling close to her in the small space of the kitchenette. “I think the co-pilot is into you,” she whispered, wiggling her eyebrows for extra measure. “What? Mister Na?” “He sooo kept looking at you when he made his round through first class.” “Please, he probably was just making sure there were no weird drunks again,” you tried to wave it off, shuddering at the memory of your last flight where a drunk businessman had made so many misplaced comments and wouldn’t keep his hands to himself that one of the male staff had to step in.

“You should shoot your shot. Catch yourself a nice and handsome pilot.” “You’re reading too many romance novels,” you just rolled your eyes like you hadn’t been reading one a minute ago. “I’m serious. At least slip him your number or something when you’re bringing them their next meal,” she grinned. “I’m not supposed to-“ “Well at least one of us has to invest in your love life,” she shrugged, leaving with the drink she had prepared for one of the rich businessmen seated in first class. Shaking your head, you went back to your book but not without throwing a quick look towards the cockpit’s door that of course was locked like it was supposed to be on long flights like this.

Getting off an intercontinental flight was always extra rewarding, especially when you were staying at such a nice hotel as this in a tropical country, with all expenses covered by your company before you had to fly back after a day of relaxing. “Slip him your room number,” your coworker hissed as you waited at the reception for everyone to receive their key cards, the pilots last as they were ogled both by the women behind the reception desk and whoever was currently walking across the lobby. You couldn’t blame them though. The two pilots were so different that there was something for everyone’s taste: It was either the middle-aged pilot who you assumed was extruding just the right amount of daddy energy to be sexy if it wasn’t for the wedding band on his finger. And Co-Pilot Na just looked like he was ready to walk on a runway with his neatly styled hair, just the right amount of dyed strands falling into his strong eyebrows, and his suit jacket lazily thrown over his shoulder. The perfectly messy look was completed by a couple of buttons undone on his white dress shirt, exposing his collar bones and teasing the swell of his chest muscles while his tie hung loosely around his neck. And if all of that wasn’t enough, he of course wore a pair of big mirrored sunglasses on the elegant slope of his nose.

“Stop staring at him and actually do it,” your coworker brought you back to reality when you were captured by the sweet smile co-pilot Na was flashing to the blushing receptionist as he received his key card for his room with polite hands. “He’s probably tired and this is a stupid idea,” you hissed, elbowing her in the stomach when she tried to argue right as the pilots made their way over to the rest of the cabin crew, hoping that would finally make her drop the whole topic.

“Let’s have a nice stay everybody,” the older one of the pilots smiled almost fatherly, “Enjoy your stay and I will see you again on our flight back in 36 hours.” With that, he tipped his captain’s hat and made his way over to the elevators, his phone already in hand, probably to call his family as soon as he was in the comfort of his room. “What he said,” Co-Pilot Na simply grinned, running a hand through his hair to further mess up the once meticulously styled strands. But for some reason it only made him look more attractive. “They said the drinks at the bar are pretty good, just be sober by the time we have to be on the plane again.” You didn’t know if his words truly were funny or if his face did most of the work but it had most of the girls from the cabin crew giggling almost shyly. “I’ll see you around then,” he waved you off as well, pulling his small carry-on across the lobby.

“Do it,” your colleague hissed again, quickly pulling you with her to follow the handsome Co-pilot to the elevator. “I’m not that desperate,” you hissed back but let her squeeze the three of you into the elevator anyways. Thank god none of you had problems with claustrophobia despite how tight the fit was with three adults and your carry-ons. “Where are you getting off?” He asked politely, already pressing the button for the seventh floor for himself. “Sixth for me,” your colleague smiled sweetly. “I’m on sixth as well,” you tried to smile as well while simultaneously pinching your colleague who was not so subtly trying to push you closer to the handsome pilot like you weren’t already invading his personal space.

“Have a good night, rest well,” he smiled once you had stepped out onto your floor, always the polite gentleman. “You too, Mister Na,” your coworker smiled just as the doors closed. “Did you do it?” She asked excitedly the second the doors slid closed in front of Co-pilot Na’s handsome face. “What? Of course not,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your carry-on down the hallway to find your room. “You better make a move on him tomorrow at the pool then.” “Co-Pilot Na doesn’t get into the pool,” you immediately answered, only to quickly regret bringing it up when your coworker’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. You already know him more intimately.” “I flew with him a handful of times and have never seen him at the pool or at the beach. That’s all,” you tried to explain yourself but you knew you had dug this grave for yourself to lay in. “So you kept an eye out for him,” she wiggled her brows. “Oh please, even I can admit he’s good-looking,” you rolled your eyes, quickly unlocking your room to end the conversation, “Good night.” “You’re absolutely no fun,” she sighed but waved you off anyways, promising to text you so you could go have breakfast together.

Groaning loudly once you were in your room, you quickly looked around the room and the bathroom that was attached, noticing the big bathtub you were surely going to use later to loosen up your tense muscles from walking in heels for close to ten hours. But for now, all you wanted was to get out of your uniform and faceplant into the soft-looking mattress. But alas, you couldn’t just rip it off of your body when you didn’t want to spend your free time ironing it again.

Just when you were down to your blouse - your blazer and pants already neatly hung away - someone knocked at your door. Not really thinking about it, you opened it without even checking who had knocked, coming face to face with a grinning Co-Pilot. “Well hello there,” he grinned, giving you a quick once over as he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest so his dress shirt was fitting even more snugly, his suit jacket and tie nowhere to be seen. “Your lovely coworker slipped me this note with your room number.” To prove his point, he held up a little piece of paper between two of his fingers. “Oh my god, she didn’t,” you groaned, ripping it from his grip to read the cheesy and provocative message.

“Guess she caught me staring at you.” “You’re not even half as sneaky as you think you are.” “How do you expect me to keep my eyes off of you if you look like this?” He spoke lowly, unashamedly looking at your exposed cleavage before he sneaked his arms around your waist only to grab two handfuls of your panty-clad ass so he could roughly pull you against his chest. “At least get into the room first, Mister,” you laughed hoarsely, slipping your hands up his chest to feel the solid musicale beneath your fingertips. “Maybe I like the thrill,” he sighed, leaning in until his lips barely grazed yours when he spoke. “You’re the worst, Na Jaemin,” you sighed, getting lost in his dark eyes. “You love it though,” Jaemin whispered, his long lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. “I do,” you smiled before finally closing the distance between your lips to softly kiss him, languidly moving them together.

But like so often, it didn’t stay chaste like that once Jaemin licked over your bottom lip to demand entrance that you easily granted him, mewling into his mouth as he walked you back into your room, carelessly kicking the door shut. “Too bad you’re already out of your uniform. Would have loved fucking you in that,” he groaned, kissing down your neck. “You like it that much?” You teased, cupping his hardening cock through his slacks. “Do you have any idea how good your ass looks in these pants?” Your snarky reply got stuck in your throat when Jaemin raked his teeth over your fluttering pulse, knowing full well you’d get into trouble if he were to leave marks.

“If we wouldn’t both lose our jobs, I’d have made us part of the mile-high club already,” he promised, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your exposed skin. “The bathrooms are way too cramped for that,” you groaned, making quick work of the buttons of Jaemin’s dress shirt so you could feel his skin beneath your fingertips. “You could ride me in the cockpit,” he moaned, carelessly shucking his shirt off before he pushed you down onto the mattress. “Putting the cock in cockpit,” you giggled, scooting up until you rested against the plush pillows. “I’d rather put it in you,” he joked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Shut up or you’ll not put your dick anywhere,” you rolled your eyes but opened your legs for him anyways, showing him the lacy underwear you wore today that he had gifted you when he had come back from his last flight to Rome. “Oh I know just what’ll shut me up,” he moaned, climbing onto the bed and between your legs to suck a bruise to the inside of your thigh.

#jaemin #na jaemin #nct #nct dream #neowritingsnet #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

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screamdream3828 · 1 year

Note

would you be able to do a love triangle trope between tara and sam x reader

both sisters catch feelings for their friend/roommate but reader ends up choosing one of them (you can choose) one would get jealous of the other when they’d flirt with you but eventually they talk it out and are cool about it

Sure! Final request I had left to write in my inbox and was a fun one. Hope you enjoy!

When you answer an anonymous ad seeking a female housemate in a very nice, very affordable flat in New York, you don’t expect to find yourself in the middle of a love triangle.

Not between the two girls you now live with - Sam and Tara. And certainly not between two sisters.

Things start out well at the flat. You aren’t stupid or oblivious, and recognise the girls instantly. New York is a fair way from Woodsborough, but pretty much everyone had heard the ghostface stories.

You resolved to never bring it up, and instead tried to build a friendship with the sisters.

Tara, like you, was studying at Blackmoore college. Something you both bonded over, and begun to spend time on campus - eating lunch, study sessions - anything really.

She was a sweet person. Funny, despite all of the hardships life had thrown at her. Your phone was full of texts, pleas to come out to some random party she had been invited to you.

You almost always agreed, because even after only knowing her for weeks - you couldn’t say no to Tara Carpenter.

She’d dance you around the room, hands around your waist. You’d giggle, drunk off whatever wine she’d hand you.

Sometimes you’d catch her looking at you, unreadable expression on her face. She’d shake out of it quick, and distract you with a quick joke.

You couldn’t deny she was attractive. Very much so. But she wasn’t the only Carpenter sister you had bonded with.

Sam was unlike anyone you’d ever met before. She was a few years older, and much more guarded initially.

At first, she’d make polite small talk but keep the conversation brief and never want to hang out.

From Tara, you learnt how she alternated her time between her two jobs, therapy and being home.

She carried a crazy amount of self defence weaponry at all times too, understandable after everything she had been through.

It took time for her to warm to you, to trust that you weren’t some sick person with an ulterior motive.

When she started to open up, you realised that she was more than the overprotective, sometimes aggressive woman portrayed throughout the media.

One time, you joined her on a grocery run when a group of teens called out insults and jeers. You watched as her knuckle tightened around the trolley handle, whitening instantly and a vein flickering.

You hadn’t intended on doing it, but your hands moved on their own accord to press over hers. “Ignore them. They want a reaction”

And she had looked back at you. Properly seeing you, as if for the first time. Her mouth flickered into a half smile, then set into a determined line and she nodded - continuing to push the trolley and ignore the group.

Something was different with her after that day, gone were the awkward smiles and polite attempts at small talk. She even invited you to her local gym, seeing you make morning commute across the city.

You’d hold the pads up as she laid blows against them, grumbling about how people needed to get a life and mind their own business.

There was little you could do to help. You hadn’t experienced the events firsthand, so didn’t exactly know what it felt like.

But you gave Sam a chance to vent, and listened as she unloaded all of her problems onto the pads - but also to you.

It wasn’t one sided either. When your creepy ex wouldn’t stop showing up at your class, Sam had frowned deep and thought for a moment.

He didn’t show up to your class again, and a rumour circulated that he had a broken nose and jaw. Of course you didn’t know for sure it was Sam, but her satisfied smirk gave it away easily.

She was the opposite to her sister, more guarded and uptight to Tara’s easygoing nature. To be honest it sometimes gave you whiplash - hanging out with each of them.

The atmosphere also felt different when you hung out one on one compared to a group setting.

You caught Sam checking you out too, when you finally convinced her to come to a party - eyes drawn to your tight red dress.

At first, you tell yourself maybe they both find you attractive. Some innocent flirting doesn’t hurt anyone.

Then one night as you cook dinner together and drink far too much red wine, Sam dances you around the kitchen and presses her mouth to yours.

You don’t kiss back at first. More stunned than anything. But her hands are in your hair, and arms grip your waist. So you clutch her cheek and kiss back hard.

She pulls away, dazed and you can’t help but smile at the look on her face. Your red lipstick is smeared across her mouth and you grab a napkin to wipe it away.

”That...”

The door swings open though, mid sentence - and Tara walks in. “Hey that smells good! What’s for dinner?”

You turn to reply, napkin waving loosely from your hand. By the time you turn back, Sam is gone and you’re left to wonder what is happening.

...

She acts weird around you for the next few days, not meeting your eye and a lot more quiet than usual.

It confuses you, and makes you wonder if she regretted the kiss. Which doesn’t make sense considering she instigated it.

Tara invites you out to the movies, and you agree - hoping it will be a welcome distraction. She doesn’t seem to notice the difference between the pair of you, and greets you with a smile as you begin to queue for snacks.

She’s dressed a lot less casual than you for a movie trip, white blouse and black skirt showing off an impressive amount of leg.

After grabbing too much candy and drinks, you take a seat at the backrow. It’s some corny action movie Tara wanted to see, and you’re happy just to be there.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you both watch the movie, until you notice a pair of eyes gazing at you.

Tara wears that same unreadable expression you see sometimes pop out at parties, and you can’t bring yourself to look away either - to break the eye contact.

She blushes though, and looks away. Maybe you overthought it, you reason and return to the movie.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” She asks as you try to find the car parked outside the theatre. You hum and nod happily. “Sure”

She nods, cheeks blushing red. “Cool. That’s cool”

You laugh, she’s being out of character - too bumbling and nervous. “I..” her voice fades away and she shakes her head resolutely. “I’ll tell you at home”

The drive is short and it isn’t long before you’re chilling on the couch. “What did you want to tell me?” You murmur, distracted by a movie commercial on the tv.

Tara clears her throat. “I just wanted to say that I’ve always liked you” she bites her lip and you swallow hard. Oh.

“Tara...” You begin, but she cuts you off - starting to ramble. “I know it’s weird because we’re housemates. And friends. But I’ve always thought you were so cool and...”

”Hey guys” Sam enters the room, expression falling slightly as she realises what you’re talking about. “Oh. Am I interrupting?” Her voice is rough and you feel stuck in the middle.

Tara shakes her head, “no it’s cool. We can hang out in my room. No worries. Right Y/N?” She’s beaming at you, clearly hoping you reciprocate her feelings.

But Sam’s looking at you too, something like hurt in her eyes. “Uhhh” you stammer, hands fidgeting in your lap.

Sam shrugs, leaning against the door frame. “No it’s fine. I can see you’re both busy. I’ll be in my room” she storms off and Tara giggles nervously.

”That was weird. I hope she doesn’t think it’s strange that I like you”

You don’t reply, wondering how you can manage to get out of the situation. You like Tara. She’s funny, and shares some classes with you.

But there isn’t that burning desire, that passion you felt when Sam grabbed your face. Your teeth gnaw at your lip and Tara frowns. “Hey what’s up?”

You don’t know how to say this. To tell her. She clearly likes you. And you like her sister. Who may not even like you back. Who maybe just kissed you as a once off.

What a mess, you think miserably.

“Tara” You begin, voice gentle. “I..” your eyes are drawn to Sam’s door as you try and articulate your sentence. Tara’s eyes follow yours and her gaze softens as she seems to realise.

”Oh” she murmurs, more to herself. You decide to be honest. “Sam kissed me a few days ago”

Tara nods along, looking a bit surprised. “I didn’t know that” she pauses, biting her lip. ”And you like her?”

You can only nod, hands in your lap. She cracks a smile, soft. “That’s fine. That’s cool. You both deserve to be happy” she takes your hand and squeezes it as you breathe out a sign of relief.

”You still want to be friends?” You ask, and she laughs at this. “Of course I do!” She assures, hand on your shoulder.

“You’re one of my best friends, I just want you to be happy”

Its like a weight lifted off your shoulders and you smile. Before you can add anything, she grabs you and walks you to Sam’s door.

”Now go get your girl” she teases, not meeting your eyes - giving you a little push.

She’s gone, back to her room, and as much as you hate to hurt her feelings - you’re glad it’s all out in the open now. You knock on Sam’s door and wait.

It takes a few tries until she appears, not meeting your eyes. “Hey look, I get if the other night was a mistake and..”

You step into her personal space, almost knocking the pair of you over as you collide lips hard. She reacts instantly, cupping your jaw and sliding her tongue past your lips.

Not even a moment later she breaks the kiss, and drops her forehead to yours. “What about Tara?” She asks, panting.

You sigh soft. “It’s you that I want Sam” you stroke her hair. “I told Tara. She’s my friend. But it’s you”

She grins at that, pulling you into her room with another kiss.

#sam carpenter x reader #scream #scream 5 #scream 6 #scream 1996 #scream 2022 #scream 2023 #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara Carpenter x fem reader #fluff #slight angst #scream one shot #scream fic #scream request #scream requests #scream prompt

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headkiss · 2 years

Note

Hi there!! would I be able to request an Eddie x female reader story?? :) basically just high amounts of fluff where he comments on not only how timid/shy she is, but how short she is as well cause I’m a sucker for that! I’m also super short and I like to imagine that Eddie would find that adorable lol

Like “Oh you’re so little!”, “What’s up short stuff?”, and even “Jesus H Christ I wanna shrink ya down and put you in my pocket- ”😂😂

hiii i hope u like it!! thank u for the request :D | 0.5k words, short!reader fluff

Eddie’s surprised to see you at the party.

Though you’re his friend, not once has he encountered you somewhere outside of small gatherings or when you go over to his trailer to pick up some weed. It helps me sleep, you always tell him, like you need to justify yourself. To him of all people.

You’re standing in the kitchen when he finds you, tucked in the corner by the fridge and a red cup held in your hand. You move out of the way every time someone walks by, he notices. Every time they come close, even.

It’s hard for him to watch you make yourself small like that. He knows you’re shy, and you’re short by nature but he hates to see you trying to take up so little space when he thinks you can take up the entire room just by being there. He walks over.

“Hey short stuff,” he says, leaning on the side of the fridge behind you. You turn to lean your back against it, looking up at him.

“Hi, Eddie.”

You give him that smile of yours, small, hesitant, but he loves it all the same. He wants to kiss you then and there. He taps your nose instead, watching it scrunch up in response.

“Whatcha doing here?”

“By the fridge?”

“At the party, I mean.”

You look down, sheepish.

“I dunno. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about, I guess.”

“Clearly not great if you’re hiding out all by yourself, huh?” He teases.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t like parties all too well, either. He usually only shows to make some money selling and get free drinks if he feels like it. Actually, he was getting ready to leave when he spotted you. He changed his mind pretty quickly.

“No, no. It’s fine. Just not for me.”

“You can be honest, babe. I’m not gonna tell,” he smiles at you, close-mouthed and pretending to zip it up. Your secret's safe with me.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You change the subject, “I thought you hated everyone.”

“Not everyone,” he says. He’s looking straight at you when he does. “I’m just here for business, that’s all.”

You let out a small laugh and shake your head. Such an Eddie thing to say.

He’s one of the only people you find yourself feeling comfortable with, which is surprising considering how so many other people look at him. He’s kind, soft and sweet. A major juxtaposition to how he looks, though he’s very, very pretty.

“Is business good, then?”

“I was gonna ditch until I saw you, actually,” he admits.

You look away when he says that, bashful under his attention, warm from it, too. You never let yourself imagine what it would be like to truly be with him, but you don’t think you can stop yourself now,

You think he’d be mostly the same. He’d make you smile, distract you when you need it without having to ask. Only, maybe he’d kiss you, too. That would be nice.

“You don’t have to stay for me, Eddie.”

“How about I just take you with me, then?” He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can go get some food, anything.”

“That would be really, really nice.”

“Let’s go, short stuff. I’ll even give you a boost into the van!” He grins at you.

Despite his teasing, you grin back.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie x reader #eddie blurbs #stranger things eddie #eddie stanger things #stranger things #stranger things fic

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rainesol · 5 days

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TWST Main Cast Pride Headcanons!!!

Compiling all of my personal twst gender/sexuality headcanons into one post 💪

Disclaimer: I won’t bother with a DNI, however I won’t indulge any discourse or homo/trans/aphobia on this post. You will be blocked and promptly clowned on in the group chat. o7

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle is an interesting character to me. I don’t think he’s the type to put a label onto his sexuality, but I headcanon bi with a female preference. Gender identity wise, I think within the current storyline he is satisfied with he/him pronouns. Best way to put it into words is that I think he’s nonbinary and uses he/him, but doesn’t have a label for that either. After finding out the custom, he always introduces himself and gives his pronouns.

I choose to interpret his line about enjoying the way his heels click as gender euphoria that just went unrecognised. At the time that I’m writing this, the Lost In The Book event isn’t out on en, but through this translation, you can see that any problems he had with the outfit came from the amount of skin shown rather than the actual presentation. I wholeheartedly believe that if he had been magical-girled into a sundress he’d have been totally cool with it.

As an extra note, I’ve seen a couple of transfem Riddle headcanons that I love. I’d love to see more fics with that concept in the fandom. Or I could do it myself lol.

Ace Trappola:

We know that Ace has canonically had a girlfriend in the past, and found her boring. Not nice. He also says that he decided that dating was a pain and he prefers just hanging out with his friends. I get it. I’m aroace and I’ve confessed that I’m biased and projecting 😔 But like. Come on. I’m choosing to interpret him as aromantic/arospec. Let me cling on to the representation that I made up in my head. I don’t have any specific gender headcanons on this guy. I just view him as cis. He/him.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is another guy I don’t have much for </3 I usually view him as a gay man in my head? He/him pronouns, cisgender. I think he’s surprisingly more open to gender non-conformity than people expect of him, though. (For instance, the ballet lessons.)

Cater Diamond:

It’s canon in the jp server that Cater has interest in dating both men and women. I’m with everyone else in viewing him as canon bisexual. I headcanon him as having a male preference, but sometimes that changes.

It’s obvious what I’ll say about his gender, but for sure under the nonbinary umbrella. We all saw the guitar strap. Maybe demiboy? He/they. Cater is very online, and considering that the nonbinary flag is ten years old, he or his elder sisters might remember its creation.

Anyways, here’s the nonbinary flag colour picked from his club groovy, and the bisexual flag picked from his Halloween groovy! :D

Trey Clover:

Trey is typically a cis dude in my head. (He/him) He's the supportive older brother type, so I imagine that he keeps the Heartslabyul public bathrooms stocked on pads. I don't know how helpful he would be with advice, but he'll hear you out or refer you to the guidance councillor if that's what you want o7 I don't think the NRC guidance councillors are much help though. Maybe just speak to your homeroom teacher.

I hc that Trey likes men and women with no preference, but just isn't very vocal about it. It'll come up in casual conversation, but I don't think he'd see the point in telling someone unless it was relevant. You'd be having a casual convo with him in the common room, and he might make a reference to a guy he had a crush on in secondary school. Cue SnapCube 'Woah, he's bisexual, I didn't know that!'

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

I've seen so many 'token cishet' Leona headcanons that I cant help but to absorb it a little. I do have another headcanon that he experiences some same-sex attraction, but he's got such high standards that he rarely notices any attraction at all. He/him. Maybe poly cause lions?

Jack Howl:

MLM demisexual/romantic truther. (He/him or he/they) I don't have many headcanons for the Savanaclaw trio <//3 if you see/make any please feel free to tag me!! I love reading I love information I love headcanons‼️

Ruggie Bucchi:

Either transmasc or the personification of the 'I'm probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc about that rn'. I usually picture him with He/him or he/they. Perhaps a rare they/them if you so desire.

Pansexual, his only preference is hard workers on their grind 💪 Between you both you could create an empire of part-time jobs. I've also seen one or two poly headcanons with him that I enjoy. Dividing the bills between the whole polycule lads come on. We're eating good this week.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

I cannot lie, I don't have anything on this guy. There's nothing to be said yk. Like, he's just there in my head and there's not much else I can add. I tend to agree with the MLM headcanons. I also picture him as demisexual/romantic sometimes. Not always. He's the best in the school at remembering pronouns. He updates his secret file on you right away.

Gender wise, I always just enjoy whatever the fanartist/fic writer shows me. I default to he/him. Ursula was based on a drag queen! I think that there should be post-canon/book 3 Azul drag personas. Now I'm picturing a drag design. She/her/he/him for that.

Floyd Leech:

Asexual and panromantic. I think Floyd uses any pronouns, depending on his mood. I headcanon genderfluid, but he typically keeps near the masc end of the spectrum. Not always. The basketball club made colour-coordinated bracelets so that they can easily tell whenever Floyd's preferences have changed. Blue for he/him, pink for she/her, yellow for they/them. Open for combinations of those three, and no bracelets for when he has no preference :D

Jade Leech:

Asexual and gay. I headcanon that he always introduces himself with he/him pronouns, but at the same time I picture him being cool with any pronouns. In classic Jade fashion, he will be generally unnerving about your choice. Like 'Oh? Is that your choice? ...Fascinating :)'

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

I don't have many headcanons on him specifically, but he'll totally pay for your HRT. Like Trey, he and Jamil keep Scarabia stocked with menstrual products. Kalim has a LOT of siblings, so he's seen a lot of different kinds of people :D He's got a ton of older brother advice. I see him with he/him pronouns, and MLM.

Kalim is a very supportive friend. Always excited to learn new things about his you. Also, those parades he throws? I bet he's (Jamil's) organised an NRC pride event. If I had the skills and patience, I'd draw that idea. If anybody does, tag me o7 I wanna see.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is a very well prepared man. As I mentioned above, he's the one that puts Kalim's plans into action. He keeps Scarabia stocked on everything, he's technically still an older brother, but I don't see him as having that dynamic with anyone other than his sister. He's still a supportive friend, though :D

I headcanon Jamil as bi, usually with he/him pronouns.

I once had a transfem au Jamil idea way back when I was 17, but I haven't given it much thought since. Maybe I'll bring the au back someday?

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil has A LOT of headcanons, theories and interpretations in the fandom. Vil is canonically a very gender nonconforming character, using typically gender neutral pronouns, being comfortable in his gender identity and presentation, and is very open to wider interpretations of gender outside of what is stereotypically considered 'masculine' or 'feminine'.

Surprisingly, I've got no proper headcanons on a set gender identity for him. There's already so much canon info within the series, that I just haven't given it much thought. I think he defaults to he/him pronouns, but is perfectly comfortable with anything. Keeps Pomefiore stocked and educated, and he's very well taught in makeup that can make you appear feminine OR masculine.

Similarly, I don't really have any label-specific headcanons for his sexuality. I normally interpret him as MLM. Vil is one of the characters that I'm always interested to see discussions about. His views on gender identity are pretty refreshing to see in modern media.

Epel Felmier:

Epel my friend! Another character that I like reading interpretations of. Again, I always give him he/him pronouns. He also had a lot of canon information on his views of gender norms. His character arc is honestly one of my favourites.

I typically picture that he’s attracted to multiple genders. I’ve seen a lot of interpretations where he mistakes his attraction for jealousy. A lot of “do I want to date him or be him?”

Another au/headcanon I’ve seen a lot of is transmasc Epel. I know a lot of transmasc people see themselves in him. That’s awesome.

Rook Hunt:

This guy! I see him as pansexual but also on the aromantic spectrum. Hear me out. In his suitor suit he has one (1) singular line about not being ready for marriage yet. Like obviously, he’s eighteen, but it just made the projecting side of my brain whir. I now see him as the type to like the idea of romance, just not for himself. Doesn’t mean that I don’t like seeing art/ships that go against this, but that is a hc I hold dear now.

He/him pronouns, but this guy loves to discuss peoples gender identity and interpretations of gender. Sit down with him and a cup of tea, and he’ll listen and talk for hours about how you both feel. Be warned that he may take notes. Mirror pronouns Rook? Oh wait. I like that. Mirror. Like Snow White.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

I typically see Idia as aroace with either little or no attraction. I like the headcanon that he doesn’t date at all, but I’ve also seen enough Silver x Idia to have another set of headcanons. I like both :D I’ve never seen him as not aroace though.

I do kind of wish I had his Suitor Suit sometimes. Every other line is something I’ve definitely said before. Like, the only time he shows any interest in dating is through video games and manga with characters that aren’t him. That’s so me irl you guys don’t understand. I would die happy if twst had canon aro/ace rep.

I think Idia’s the type to only use different pronouns online. Maybe with Ortho, too. He/they online and with close family. Everyone else knows him as he/him. I said that Cater might remember the nonbinary flag’s creation. Idia does. He was on twst tumblr to witness the creation of many flags.

Here's the aroace flag picked from the Suitor Suit card! :D Very pretty.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho is downright fascinating to pick apart. Pre book 6, I doubt Idia programmed a sexuality into him. Like it would even be possible. Then post book 6, after he gains a soul/sentience, I think he and Idia would have had a talk about him now having the choice to one day explore his gender identity and orientation (if he so desires). I think Ortho wouldn’t have any interest in dating, though.

Confessional time. Before wiring this I had the random thought of “In second year Ortho downloads she/they.zip and gets a new body made”. I never meant to pay much kind to it but now I can’t let it go. Like I’ve been accidentally referring to Ortho as she in front of friends. I have a future design in mind. I have additional headcanons about this design. It’s completely taken over. If I ever post that redesign is beyond me but it’s there in my head and it won’t leave. Fem!Ortho future au. Idk if anyone would hear me out there.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

Another character I enjoy multiple interpretations of. One interpretation I have of him is cupiosexual/romantic. The other is demisexual/panromantic. Either way, the concept of a qpr would make him so excited that it doesn’t rain for days on Sage’s Island. The grass withered.

Malleus is old. Not mentally, but chronologically. He’s seen language change a couple of times, and he grew up with people even older than him. He was born in the mid 1800s equivalent. Thon is one letter off of thorn. See where I’m headed? The use of thon/thons was first recorded in the 1850’s. Gender neutrality is not a new concept to him.

If you asked for his pronouns, I feel like he wouldn’t immediately understand. Like, he calls himself I. Me. Sometimes if he’s with someone we. Did you want all of those too? Oh, just the ones you call him./j

Anyways twisted wokeland au where Malleus allows Yuu to make up a name and set of pronouns for him because he refused to introduce himself/j

Silver:

Another guy I never considered. Mayybe also on the aroace spectrum? I think he’d be happy in a qpr. I think he’s not the type to question it. He just goes with whatever he feels. I’ve not got much lol.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Demisexual/romantic and he/him pronouns. Again, I’ve not thought much on him. I think it takes him a long, long journey of self-discovery though.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Again, Lilia was born a LONG time ago. He was born in the early to mid 1300s equivalent. He’s seen so much change since then, and he’s been through a lot of character arcs. I think I’m justified in headcanoning him as an unlabelled king. If he likes a girl, awesome. He likes a guy? Cool. I think it’s common to hear him refer to himself in a dead language. Baby girl, he has heard pronouns you could not comprehend.

If you ask his gender or sexuality, you’ll get some vague dad gestures, and a ‘you know what I mean’ nod. You don’t. You won’t.

Book 7 spoilers, but I hope that they keep the mlm implications in for the en translations. They’ll probably pull a Cater and write out the canon bi implications though. Heartbroken.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Thank you for reading to the end of my ramblings o7 If anyone else makes pride themed posts please feel free to tag me!! I would love to see them!

I really like the subtle ways these things are portrayed in the story. Especially within the world building. We know that is generally societally acceptable for men to wear makeup and dresses in TWST, and there’s canon development of language changing over time in a gender neutral way! (Witches and wizards -> mages. Suck on that, Rowling.)

⋆｡𖦹°‧★

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@tixdixl @cyanide-latte @the-trinket-witch @thehollowwriter @elenauaurs

@emiensr

#spreading my woke agenda #I would have made more flags but I think my phone would have genuinely started sweating #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 8 months

Text

Would You? | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.2k

✦ request — could i possibly have something with five where reader is in love with luther but luther is with sloane (can be a modern au) and five is pissed off that she still likes luther because he likes her and she gives him a chance and falls for him?

✦ warnings — angst, reader is a lonely person, reader has weak superpowers, mommy issues, Five still lives with his siblings, mentions of violence, mentions of food and beverages (alcohol included), fluff.

════════════════════════

You didn't hate her. You were sure it was impossible to do so. Sloane was too bright, too kind in a world that only met her with despair. She was gentle, even with you, even when you knew she could tell you were in love with Luther.

Attending their second wedding was a mistake. You should have known better. In your head, you would take it well after witnessing the first one already, but you had only fooled yourself.

You were happy for them, happy they had found love, but it had been easier to ignore the pain when the world was about to end.

Saving the world should have been worth it, but the knots in your stomach as you watched them dance said otherwise.

"I don't understand what you see in him,” Five said from beside you.

You swirled your glass, looking down at the slowly shrinking ice sphere. "He's handsome, tall, nice, easy to talk to..."

"Oh, yeah? What do you talk about?"

Your eyes traced the wooden bar, perfectly polished yet scratched from wear. "Things."

"I don't see it."

Five always went to the point, you learned as much mere days after meeting him. Twisting your body, you faced him. He looked so different now, just a couple years older than you — his eyes, much like his jawline, were still sharp, hair dark and perfectly combed.

From what you remembered and the family photos you had seen, he was the one whose appearance changed the least with age. Still boyish, yet much taller than one would have thought he would be upon meeting his thirteen-year-old body, he was unbothered by the commotions around him, by the people dancing and laughing. Like they didn’t exist, like only you and Five Hargreeves were in that room.

As unapproachable as he was to strangers, he had that effect on people. You had seen it before, many times, people’s gazes lingered and they tried to give him smiles in the streets, some even tried to make small talk to no avail.

Five lifted his eyebrows, waiting for the answer brewing in your eyes.

You admitted, "Well, he doesn't either."

"Okay," he sighed. "Let's have your pity party."

"Thank you."

Rolling his eyes, he reached over and took the bottle of whisky from behind the counter. The bartender didn’t even blink. Five refilled your glass, ignoring the water pulling at the bottom from the now tiny ice sphere.

You gulped the watered-down liquid in one go, not wanting to ruin the experience of perfectly good whisky for a petty man who looked too proud of his little joke.

Whose sense of humor was more fucked up you would never know. His from finding it amusing, yours from agreeing, perhaps none — perhaps it was the idea itself that amused you, the thought behind his actions that made you feel something other than pitiful jealousy.

The night had been long as it was and you weren’t even halfway through the celebrations. You were way past half the bottle, though.

In the middle of laughs and hushed gossip, Five and you moved to the outdoor area. Your dress would be ruined in the dirt, but so would his suit and he didn’t seem to mind.

Fairy lights hung between and around the trees. You looked up at them as Five guided you to the farthest tree from the entrance. Both of you sat against the bark, Five carried another bottle of whisky whilst you carried your shoes.

The garden looked as pretty as it had earlier, decorated with white flowers that stood out against the sheer amount of green you had only seen at a hillside when you were a child, back when people took more care of the environment.

The flower arrangements were pretty, yes, but the flowers that grew around the garden were gorgeous too.

Five’s eyes were on you. He opened his mouth to say something, but he clamped it shut and shook his head.

“What is it?” you asked.

"I've liked you for so long," he whispered. "But I'm not nice like him, am I?"

You frowned. "You're nice when you want to be. Like right now."

"'m not being nice, just too tired to fight."

You didn’t ask if he was tired of fighting with you or for you. Both would have been understandable, as shocking as the revelation of his feelings for you was.

Categorically, you weren’t each other’s type. Although his type was confusing seeing as the only partner of his you had known about was a mannequin —whom you presumed had been his only partner, to begin with— and yours often ended up being people who didn’t want you.

Heartbreak was a nagging presence in your life, at least in the romantic sense of it. Your relationships rarely lasted, and the ones that did ended so swiftly you didn’t really mourn them.

"Why did you save her?” he asked, taking you out of your thoughts, and bringing you back to the present from where you always ran away.

"What do you mean?"

"Last week. You could have let her die and comfort Luther. Maybe even seduce him."

"I considered it," you confessed, ashamed of your selfishness. "But I felt awful about it, I don't think I could live with myself if I did that."

Five hummed. "You're a better person than me."

"That's not true."

"It is,” he firmly insisted.

"Would you let your brother die just to seduce his partner?"

"It's different."

"Yeah,” you conceded. “But—”

He didn’t let you add anything else, your agreement was enough, even more so when he needed to say, “You’re also different.”

“Five...”

You were so predictable, you found. He had you all figured out, he knew how much you longed for this kind of attention.

“I mean it.”

“I believe you.” It came out as a whisper even though you didn’t intend for it to be one.

He craned his neck to the side, gazing at you with glazed eyes. “Good. I have no reason to lie and humiliate myself.”

“I wouldn’t let you humiliate yourself,” you told him, putting the bottle aside to scoot closer.

Five made a motion to reach over, then retracted his hand. “I know.”

════════════════════════

Your foggy window was cold to the touch and your day boring. You were half a book and four cups of tea deep into a rainout and although you had always liked the rain, you wished it would relent just long enough for you to do the groceries you had put off a couple of days ago.

And yet, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the window as heavy rain fell.

Rain reminded you of Five and his endless love for it. The pitter-patter mimicked his steps if you listened closely enough.

Closing the book, you decided to text him with the excuse of his beloved rain, jokingly asking if he had drowned in the courtyard already.

Twenty minutes and a few bantering texts later, he was knocking on your door, coffee and pastries in hand. You had never been so jealous of his powers.

He sat on the couch, neck craned towards the window while you looked for another blanket. You handed him the spare blanket, watching as he hesitated to take his eyes off the rain. It was endearing to see Five like that, like a curious child fascinated by nature.

“Do you want a mug for your coffee or…?”

“The paper cup is fine,” he assured you.

You sat next to him, with the rain behind you just outside the window. He fixed his eyes on you. “I take it your day has been boring too?”

“Exhausting. Diego wouldn’t stop complaining about the power being out.”

“Isn’t that boxing match he wanted to watch today?”

Five shrugged. “You pay more attention to the things he says than I do.”

You knew that wasn’t true. Five paid attention to everything; sometimes you thought it was a habit of his, others you assumed he did it just to have something to criticize people for. Either way, he paid attention to everything to a supernatural extent.

“I’m sure he’ll end up watching it at a bar or something.”

He huffed a laugh. “Probably a better experience than watching anything with Luther.”

“He hasn’t moved?” You had assumed he would move now that he was married.

“Nah. He likes his bedroom too much.” Five took a gulp of coffee, watching your reaction. “She doesn’t mind, though.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Sounds uncomfortable.”

“You dodged a bullet.”

“I dodged having you as a roommate,” you went along with his banter.

He rolled his eyes. “I am an amazing roommate.”

“I doubt it.”

“I’m never home!”

“Even worse.”

He shook his head, trying to hide the smile threatening to come out. But you wanted to see it, a relaxed Five was unparalleled.

“I’ve thought about moving,” he said casually. “But I like the big library and the stocked-up kitchen.”

“Like you couldn’t steal some of Reginald’s money and get a place big enough?”

“Eh.” Five shrugged, then shook his head. “It would be the same, wouldn’t it? Living off him.”

“Without all the things that bother you, but yeah.”

“Is that why you moved out of your mother’s?”

You never talked about it, and unlike him, you had never complained about living with your siblings. But your mother was an exhausting woman to live with.

“She’s re-marrying,” you opted for saying. “Only my youngest sibling will stay.”

“I didn’t know she was seeing somebody.”

“He’s in it for the money and she needs someone to drag to events.” You slid down the couch, getting more comfortable as you rested your head on the backrest. “He’s a painter. Divorced, no kids. Perfect for her.”

“Maybe he likes her.”

“Maybe. I doubt it.”

“Why?”

You pursed your lips. Five was expecting some kind of gossip, but you had none to share. “I know her well. We’re similar.”

“So he likes her.”

Shaking your head, you insisted, “Her powers make her insufferable, Five.” And you inherited them.

Luther would always tell you to lay off her, to see things from her perspective as if she hadn’t seen you as a bad omen for years. Maybe you were, that would explain the failed romances and fizzling friendships.

As though sensing you were on the verge of sinking into the sense that you would never amount to much that you undoubtedly got from your father, Five grasped your chin between his index and his thumb, gently nudging your head up. “Look at me.”

Despite yourself, you did look up at him.

“You aren’t your mother.”

“I know,” you said, doing your damnedest to keep your voice leveled. “But it’s hard to find differences sometimes.”

He nodded along and you wondered if he ever felt similar to Reginald too. “But there are,” he said. “Many.”

You stared at him, trying to find something to say, a way to change the topic. Something shined in his eyes and you could have sworn it was brighter than the sun.

He pulled you closer, fully grabbing your face in his hand. You parted your lips, eyes still on him.

Five tilted his head to the left, rolling his lips inward to then wet them with his tongue. Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue and leaned in, feeling his breath on your skin.

To your dismay, Five didn’t take the plunge. And so you closed the gap, not capable of bearing this tension any longer. Five’s lips were warm and a little chapped as he reciprocated, moving his hand to the back of your head.

His free hand reached to grasp your waist, squeezing when you reached up to grab at him too. Five dug his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back so he could deepen the kiss by pushing himself forward.

You let him, hands gripping his shoulders as he fully held you in his arms, kiss searing and heavy. Nipping at his bottom lip, you tasted a hint of chocolate from his favorite dark roast, as bold as his kiss.

════════════════════════

That should have been it. What wrong could a kiss or two do? None, not when Five was good at hiding things from his siblings. But it didn’t stop there, you couldn’t get him out of your head or spend much of your free time away from him.

You had never seen it before, perhaps because you didn’t try, but Five was so easy to talk to and his eyes were so pretty from up close — they looked even prettier when he told you about the books he read in his spare time, like he had known no pain or suffering. You wished that had been the case, you did, you would even if you didn’t feel new emotions blossoming because of his now constant presence at your side.

It felt like you had missed out on many things. Not only was Five funny and clever, but insightful and a good listener; he liked his coffee a particular way, but could eat almost anything you put in front of him and was willing to try different things —in any sense— at any given moment.

Soon you started cooking for two and keeping his favorite wine in the fridge just in case. You got a French press to make him coffee in the afternoon and treasured the expensive tea he brought you from one of his research travels —if you could call zapping to another country traveling—.

Whilst your mother could see glimpses of the future through vague dreams and occasional visions, you only perceived a sense of danger in your premonitions, a heightened anxiety that you waited for every time you were in Five’s presence. It never manifested, only getting your hopes up.

But a bad day was enough to ruin things and you had an awful one a particular Friday. You were tired, in a bad mood after an all-nighter, and didn’t want to be alone. You didn’t want to call anybody either, not even your favorite sister. You felt awful for having a favorite sister, and even more for wanting to run away from the city and never be found.

Who would want that?

You went home directly from work and pretended your phone didn’t exist, pretended you hadn’t randomly thought about a childhood friend you thought would be with you forever, and pretended you wouldn’t give anything to share something, anything, with somebody who would be okay with not talking about it.

Everything would be okay once you got some sleep, it had to be. If only your brain would allow it. By 2 a.m. you stood in your spotless kitchen, exhausted, hopeful that sleep would surely take you in its embrace now that your feet and arms ached.

After a quick shower, you laid on the bed and turned the TV on just to have something in the background until you fell asleep.

And your luck, your stupid cursed luck, made it so the first thing you saw on your ‘keep watching’ section was a movie you saw with Five a couple days ago. Maybe you couldn’t call, but texting wouldn’t hurt — he didn’t like talking on the phone that much either way, and that way he wouldn’t be able to tell that you had such a fucked up day you were considering visiting your father just because he had a big patio where you could pretend to be a child without a care in the world again.

You decided against it. Although he was probably awake, it was too late to text him out of nowhere.

First thing in the morning, though, after a few hours of intermittent sleep, you picked up your phone to text Five only to find he had beaten you to it.

Your heart skipped a beat upon reading he had asked if you would like to come over and help him paint his room.

There was an eerie feeling on the third floor of the Academy, only aided by the lack of lightning and squeaky floors.

You struggled to balance the food you were carrying as you knocked on Five’s door. The dark stairs had been an odyssey to get through in your half-rested state, and you probably should have bought fewer things, but you were too indecisive and a little too emotional to decide between sweet and savory.

Five pulled the door open, revealing the work —or lack thereof— he had done.

“I thought you had gotten rid of the wallpaper already.”

“I tried.”

“You just scratched it, Five!”

He took the bags from your grasp, opening them to see the contents before softly placing them on his desk. “I don’t know what else to do to take it off,” he admitted. “The fabric softener with hot water didn't work.”

“You should have gotten a bottle or two of remover.”

“I did,” he said, indignant. “It doesn’t work.”

Five sounded frustrated, much like he had the last time the world was about to end, as if that bedroom was the closest thing he had to a treasured belonging.

“Why don’t we go to a hardware store?” you suggested, “someone there has to know what to do.”

He stared at you, silent. You offered your hand, he took it. Instead of leaving the room, whether by walking or zapping, Five tugged on your hand, making you let out a squeal, and brought you into his personal space.

Your eyes found his, already on your lips. You wanted him to kiss you until you were breathless, until your bones became brittle from the force of his lips against yours.

As though he had seen it on your semblance, Five dropped your hand and held your face, palm fully on your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss. His lips were warm in contrast to yours, free hand resting at the base of your neck.

You buried your fingers in his short hair and this time you were the one who deepened the kiss. Five smiled against your mouth, trapping your bottom lip between his to then graze it with his teeth.

You let him slip his tongue into your mouth and found yourself softly moaning into his senseless kiss, unsure as to what to do with your hands other than tug at his hair and grab at his shoulder.

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me,” he breathlessly said between kisses.

“Never.”

“No?”

“No-uh.” You kissed him again, hands on his cheeks as you brought him flush to you. “You’re far too interesting to be killed,” you admitted against his now softer lips, a little surprised that he had started to take more care of his skin.

Five pressed his forehead against yours, eyes lidded closed. “If I asked…” He took a deep breath, then fully opened his eyes. “If I asked for something more than occasional kisses and shared silences,” he finally spoke his mind, “would you say yes?”

You nodded, brushing your nose against his.

“Say it,” he whispered. It sounded like a plea.

You found yourself thinking that you would give him the world if he asked. “Yes, Five,” you whispered back. “I would always say yes.”

He hummed. “Now… which hardware store should we go to?”

You laughed against his lips, prompting him to kiss you again.

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x plus size reader

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night-lakmen · 1 month

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The art of writing 'confident' fictional women

Making female characters who're supposed to be 'queen bees' and/or popular comes with a great amount of misogyny and internalised competition amongst women.

• The Mary sue.

She's perfect, she's everything. While partying everyday and not studying once in the entire book, she's able to be both the magnet and the nerd who knows everything being taught in the class. All men turn to look at her, all women are envious of her beauty.

Most of such characters are described as having certain particular beauty standards. Beauty is different for different people,and attraction isn't warranted by looks. There's a stark difference between being easy on the eye and attractive.

Such characters are also shown to be either incredibly revealing in clothing in places where they shouldn't be, and are described using adjectives that make you more uncomfortable than enamoured. Most of the time they're said to be 'inspired off IT GIRLS', when being an IT girl says nothing about bringing other women down by saying how they surpass everyone around them.

• The Edgy Bombshell.

The og y/n.

Hair up in a messy bun, wearing the first thing she finds in her room she's still the most beautiful girl in school/class/the entire world. Things that are symptoms of depression become aesthetic for her, the just out of bed look being one of 'not like other girls' and not 'im suffering. Help.'

Such characters are often uplifted by adding bimbo, cheerleader chars who wear clothes/are portrayed to be more extroverted, glittery and cheery than the said character. Un necessary bullying from the girly chars and constant threats of 'you're stealing my boyfriend' ruin her day.

The only thing she needs to steal is a time table.

• The Pseudo bully.

She's not mean, she's just the girl who's honest with everyone.

Even though she's the worst person to walk on earth with the way she talks to people,somehow everyone bows to her word. Similar to the first one, she's somehow liked by everyone. Never a pore, never any body type other than hourglass, she brings her friends down by making weird jokes and putting them out as 'savage' when they're not comebacks, just actual insults.

But she's not a bully! Her behavior is entitled, she thinks she has earned the entire world because of the way she is raised or looks, but she is not a bully!

• The gangster

[I love biker women<3]

She's not like the other basic girls. She knows bikes, she knows cars. Everyone comes to her to get their stuff fixed and she has beef with every other woman in school. It isn't her fault she's one of the boys and was raised with 69 boys!

Most of the time such characters lean heavily towards type 2, having either an excess amount of terrible hygiene, humor, or towards 1.

The only time this is acceptable is when she's lesbian. I love biker women<333!!!

The art of writing fictional women has been around for ages, yet it is one people still haven't figured out yet. Much like in real life, the objectification of women and their bodies to appease the readers is prevalent among writers both male and sadly female. One woman can't be both popular and nice, for that's a sin. Kindness doesn't warrant popularity, for women are always fighting amongst each other in their mind.

Popularity is gained because of a lot of things, and most of them aren't positive things. The only time people end up liking you is if you're aware of other people: and don't put other people down to raise others. Women are much more than their bodies, their beauty, their sexuality. They can have off days, they can have many different kinds of personalities and moods depending on the situation.

The art of writing women is almost like the art of loving women, and it's safe to say that we're failing in both.

#luke castellan smut #writers #writing #writerscommunity #bimbo doll #bimbofied #barbie #percy jackon and the olympians #booklr

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retrobutterflies · 2 years

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Rainbow Lights | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: A bad trip at your local bar has you seeking out Eddie Munson for help. And he'll be damned if he can't make you feel better.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Drinking, Drug Use, Slight Angst, Hurt Comfort

A/N: Drugs are bad because D.A.R.E. told me so xoxo

Your head was spinning. The cold glass in your hand suddenly felt five times heavier and you felt your grip slipping. Your eyes stared down, blinking heavily as the image of your rum and coke suddenly turned into three. You stumbled forward, feeling the world sway around you. The loud blaring of the music made your head pound and the flashing of the overhead lasers disoriented you enough to have you stumble again until the drink from your hand shattered to the floor creating a dangerous puddle of liquor and glass.

You were not okay. Each step felt like a thousand pounds and you could barely keep your eyes open at the dizzying atmosphere. You desperately needed to find the bathroom. You had gone once before, your friend making a beeline for it the minute you stepped foot in the bar. And now, with a head full of tar and mouth scorched like the surface of the sun, you staggered your way in what you hoped was the right direction.

It felt like a millennia before you burst through the doors into the painful fluorescent lighting of the women's room. Shaking hands gripped the steel door of a stall, pulling yourself inside and fumbling with the latch. You dropped to your knees, hands clutching the rim of the toilet, too far gone to worry about the cleanliness. You blinked away a wave of moisture in your water line, wracking your brain to recall the blank expanse of time before dropping your drink.

Your friend's face flashed in your mind. A back room. A small plastic baggy. Something that looked like a miniature postage stamp nestled inside. A cold dread sunk into your stomach at the memory of taking it from her, putting it in your mouth, and letting it dissolve on your tongue at her encouragement. She took one too, at the insistence of her boyfriend. And so did a few others. You didn't want to be the only one who didn't. You didn't want to ruin the fun.

You squeezed your eyes shut, a few tears leaking through and leaned forward with your mouth open.

Please. Please. Please. You repeated it like mantra, trying to visualize the bile moving up your throat. You had to get whatever it was out of your system. A small thought in the back of your head figured it might've been too late, whatever was affecting you already running its course but you needed something to focus on otherwise you were scared you would faint. You weren't sure how long you sat there. The coolness of the porcelain toilet the unlikely saving grace keeping you grounded as you begged the universe to let you puke.

You hoped someone was looking for you. You didn't even remember the last time you had seen your friends. A good chunk of time before dropping your glass was missing like it had been wiped away on a dry erase board. But you had to have been gone for a while at this point. Surely someone would have noticed.

A few people came and went from the bathroom, either chatting up a storm or releasing their demons into the stalls next to you. You coughed a few times and tried to touch the back of your throat but all you got was gagging. Knees shook as you pulled yourself up slowly from the ground. You made your way to the sink, latching onto the counter tightly fearing you could fall if you weren't careful.

The cold water running on your hands felt nice at first until a sudden chill ran down your spine. Suddenly you were freezing. Your hands started shaking and you quickly fumbled with the tap to turn on the hot water, struggling as the world swayed in front of you. You pumped an ungodly amount of soap onto your palms and weakly rubbed your hands together as if it would clean away your intoxication. And when your hands were raw and stinging from the steaming water, you shut it off.

The thought of going back into the loud, stifling, dizzying bar made you feel nauseous but you knew you desperately needed help. If you couldn't find your friends you at least needed to find a bouncer or bartender or someone who could help. You nearly hit a girl with the swing of the door and she shot you a nasty glare as she passed you but your attention was focused on the swarming crowd of the dance floor.

Through squinted eyes, you could see a band performing on stage, wincing every time the base made the speakers hum loudly. People were bumping into you, pushing you back and forth until you couldn't even remember what direction you had come from. You were feeling helpless, eyes pricking and breath quickening into what was probably an oncoming panic attack. You couldn't see any of your friends and at this point you didn't even know where the bar was to flag down a bartender. You felt like you were going to suffocate.

And then you saw him. His crazy hair was frizzier than usual, thick from the humidity of the room. He was tall and imposing and you nearly cried at the sight of him. He was someone you knew and someone who could help. With a new found ferocity, you pushed your way towards him, counting your breaths to focus yourself. You tried to call his name but he definitely couldn't hear you over the pounding music. But as if your stars were finally aligning, his gazed swept across the room until it landed on you.

You weren't able to focus on his expression being as there were three versions of him spinning in your line of sight. It had been years since you'd last seen him that a part of you was worried he wouldn't recognize you but then he took a step forward.

"Y/N?" He had to yell your name for you to hear him. You were shoved from behind into him, hands gripping onto his forearms as his hands grabbed your elbows to steady you.

"E-Ed-die. I-I'm not o-okay," your teeth were chattering despite the sweltering heat of the crowded room. You weren't sure if he heard you but by the concerned expression on his face and his tightening grip he seemed to understand something wasn't right.

He pulled you closer, arm wrapping around your back so he could steer you away from the crowd. He pulled you towards a back room where the volume was muted to a comfortable level and the amount of lingering people was minimal.

"Hey, what happened? Are you alright?" he asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. You were sure you looked like death, mascara smudged, sweat beading on your forehead, chin wobbling.

"E-Eddie-ie, I th-think s-something–" you could barely get your words out, the stuttering a combination of your chattering teeth and panicky breaths.

"Hey, hey, woah, it's alright. Take a deep breath," he soothed. Despite not having seen each other since high school, he smoothed his hand over the crown of your head like you were close. It made your heart squeeze at the sudden affection.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked. You were sure his tone would've been humorous had you not looked so distraught. You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut as a few tears fought their way through your lashes.

"I-I d-didn't–I had . . . only one. I-I'm not–" you felt like you were close to hyperventilating. His hands found yours and his thumbs rubbed over the backs of them.

"You only had one drink?" he questioned, eyebrow quirking as he scanned your face, bending his knees and ducking his head to see you clearer. You felt your lip wobble. You needed him to understand.

"I t-took something e-else. I d-don't k-know," you managed to say as the image of him started to distort from the tears pooling in your waterline.

"Something else?" he prompted. Desperation clawed at your throat. The colored lights strung up on the wall were blending together, creating a blurred fresco of reds and blues. "Did you smoke something?"

His voice was soothing and kind and you tried to focus on its low timbre to stay grounded but the lights around you began to morph like they were bleeding into the air and you started to feel like your heart rate was matching the pounding base of the music.

"It was a s-stamp," was what you managed to get out. He was lost and his grip on your hands tightened marginally as he tried to understand what you meant.

He leaned in closer, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Eyes flickering frantically around your face, he took in your bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, the sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your shallow breaths. His hand softly cradled your chin as he lifted your head higher, unconsciously swiping away the stray tears that leaked down your cheeks.

"A stamp?" he questioned. "That's what it was called?"

He wracked his brain for a possible answer. Rick kept him stocked with a wide assortment of party drugs to sell whenever he went out and he had sold some of his stash tonight but was drawing a blank at your explanation.

"N-no, it was s-small. A stamp. S-square–" ragged breaths caught you mid sentence and Eddie felt the creeping feeling of dread settle deep in his chest.

"Can you remember what it was called?" he asked, trying to keep his tone calm.

"I d-don't know, I d-don't k-know," you squeezed your eyes shut, tears relentlessly poking through, trying to pull at even the hint of a memory.

"Okay, okay, it's okay," he soothed, hand moving to brush over your hairline, smoothing down flyaways, thumb tracing the softness of your temple.

"Okay, sweetheart, listen to me. We're gonna go to the back office and get the med kit. Then we're gonna have to go to the bathroom so you can puke it out," he explained. His voice was soft and reassuring contrary to his furrowed brows and blazing gaze.

"I tried. I tried. I couldn't–" you let out a choked sob, leaning in closer to him as your knees shook. You barely registered the term of endearment, the name flowing off his tongue like it was a familiar nickname he had for you.

"It's okay. It's okay. The medicine will help but you gotta try again," he soothed, stroking back your hair again.

So you nodded, letting him cover you in his arms as he maneuvered you to the office and then to the bathroom again. A group of girls gave him wide-eyed stares as you passed them to the handicap stall, letting the door swing shut with a slam. Murmured voices and clicking heels followed them as they made their leave.

He sat you down, hands firm as he made sure you weren't going to topple over. Then he snapped open the first-aid kit, rummaging through it quickly until he found what he was looking for. He used his teeth to rip open the paper, tapping the wide circle tablets into his palm.

"Okay, sweetheart, I need you to take two of these. They're gonna help you get this out of your system," he explained.

In any normal circumstance, the sight of Eddie Munson crouched next to you in front of a toilet would make you question reality. But having him here, hand stroking down your back as he tipped the pills into your shaking palm felt like the most natural thing in the world. You couldn't imagine anyone in his place. Even though it had been years since you had last seen him.

As you swallowed the pills, your hand reached out to grab his free one. He took it without hesitation, the warmth calming you slightly. The hand that was rubbing lines up and down your back made chills creep up your neck and you hoped he never stopped the movement.

"Did you take anything else?" he asked softly after a moment of silence. Your eyes shut again as the tears swelled and shook your head piteously.

"No, I-I don't know. I don't t-think so. I don't–I c-can't remember much," you confessed. His hand halted for a moment before continuing its path up and down the smooth cotton of your shirt. You held his other hand between both of yours, craving any form of touch to soothe you.

"Okay. It's okay." His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze focused on the side of your face. "Are you here with anyone?"

"My friends. Don't know where t-they are. It's b-been a w-while," you mumbled, hiccuping from your continuous tears. The hand from your back moved away to gently swipe away the stray tears, thumb gliding under your eyes to collect the specks of mascara that freckled your skin.

"We'll find them. Don't worry," he assured you, wiping the smudges from your mascara on the dark denim of his thigh before moving his hand back to continue stroking down your spine.

The room was spinning. You kept your eyes shut to avoid seeing the toilet morph and distort. Every time someone opened the door you winced at the noise. Your chattering teeth seemed to echo in your brain and you wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare.

"Do you know where you got it from? Did you buy it from someone?" he asked, voice low and hesitant.

He watched your face screw up in a grimace, eyes still shut tight as you leaned over the porcelain. For a fleeting moment he worried something he had sold was what was causing you to have a bad trip. But he wracked his brain to remember what he had sold and it was mostly cheap strains of weed and some Adderall. However, guilt still managed to weave itself around his throat like a collar, shocking him every time you winced.

"My friend. I t-think her b-boyfriend got it," you mumbled, grimacing again and wishing you hadn't been so naive. You could feel his stare on the side of your face. You could feel his concern and worry. You could imagine the look of judgement he must be wearing. How stupid he must think you were.

After what felt like hours, an uncomfortable churning in your stomach had you sitting up straighter, hands moving up to hold the side of the toilet seat. As if this was a well practiced routine, Eddie gathered your hair back to hold at the base of your neck as you leaned over the bowl to spew the remnants of your stomach content. It lasted a while until you were dry heaving straight bile. The muscles in your stomach ached from contracting so much and your teeth were still chattering though the room wasn't spinning anymore.

Eddie handed you wads of toilet paper which you used to clean your face, dumping them into the bowl and pulling at the handle to flush away the evidence.

"Feeling any better?" he asked. You were waiting for the moment where the shame of Eddie seeing you in such a vulnerable state would sink in but as you turned to meet his warm and kind eyes you didn't think it would.

"A little." Your voice was raspy and your throat was raw. He grimaced at you, hand reaching out to smooth back your hair, a gesture that was becoming all too familiar to you.

"Let's get you to the sink," he said, arms going around you to lift you from the floor. Though your vision was clearer now, your legs seemed to be even shakier. He seemed to notice, his grip on you tightening as he unlatched the door and guided you to the sink.

You scrubbed your hands under burning water before thoroughly rinsing your mouth through. You nearly teared up again at the sight of Eddie handing you a mini bottle of mouth wash that some angel had decided needed to be included in a first aid kit. By the time you were clean and refreshed, face splashed with cool water for good measure, you felt exhausted.

As you dried your hands on a paper towel, you turned to look at Eddie. He was leaning up against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and eyes stormy as he chewed on his lower lip. Tossing the paper towel into the trash had him snapping out of his stupor.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. You had never seen him look so frazzled. You had known Eddie since elementary school and had a brief, fleeting friendship in middle school until hormones and puberty made talking to the opposite gender awkward and terrifying. Once high school hit you were closer to acquaintances, sharing a few knowing glances in the halls and friendly words when you shared classes together and on rare occasions he would give you a lift home refusing any attempts from you to pay him back. But once you graduated you had disappeared from each others lives like two leaves falling from the same tree but landing on two opposite sides of the street.

But here you were, seeing him for the first time since you graduated, puking your guts out in front of him and crying. It was quite a reunion. And he looked concerned and worried and scared. The shame you thought may not come suddenly reared its ugly head, burning hot in your stomach. And the ever-present panic starting flooding your senses again making your breaths turn harsh and uneven.

"I'm sorry," you said instead of answering his question. The tears you'd hoped would've run dry by now collecting in your lashes again. He pushed off from the wall, coming closer so he could re-attach his hand to your back, fingertips tracing comforting circles in an attempt to soothe you. He leaned forward, trying to catch your eyes but they were focused on the floor because looking at him made your guilt increase tenfold.

"Hey," his voice was soft as if speaking any louder would make you burst. "What are you saying sorry for?"

"Because I'm ruining your night and I just puked in front of you and I should've been more careful–"

"No, no, stop," he said. He hesitated for a moment. He wanted to reach out and touch your cheek, smooth away your panic with the pads of his thumbs. You took another shuttering, watery breath and he was moving on autopilot, palm touching your cheek, cool rings meeting heated skin.

"You did nothing wrong. You were having a scary trip," he said. His tone was firm and his eyes were holding yours hostage with their intensity. He slowly swiped his thumb under your eye, collecting the moisture that made your eyes sparkle up at him. "It happens. It's okay."

"But I'm ruining your night–" you repeated, feeling your chin wobble. His grip tightened and he brushed your hair back, warmth spreading over your hairline. He stepped closer and you could smell his cologne and weed and beer and a scent that was distinctly Eddie that you didn't even realize you had catalogued in your brain.

"You're not. Stop saying that," he was frowning at you now, your words pinpricking his heart at each syllable. He could tell you were panicking and he wasn't sure if it was whatever drug was still in your system or a culmination of your fear from the situation but your face was turning into a portrait of anguish and he felt desperate to soothe you.

"I'm sorry." Your eyes sparkled and glistened and pulled at Eddie's heartstrings like a puppet. "I'm so-I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. Take a deep breath. You're alright," his voice was even softer, brows furrowing as his hand brushed down the side of your face to settle on your neck. He could feel your pulse beating fast beneath his palm and he brushed his thumb in small circles as if to alleviate your rising anxiety.

"Sorry," you choked, another hiccup following and a ragged breath following that. Your hands found purchase, though hesitantly, on his abdomen, fingers gripping the soft cotton of his worn T-shirt.

He blinked at you before letting out a quiet, snuff of a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Are you apologizing for apologizing?" He quirked his head at you and the way his eyes glinted and his dimples slowly formed to frame his cheeks had your heart clenching.

"I . . ." you trailed off. You felt like your voice got stolen as you struggled to steady your breaths. Eddie's eyes pin-balled back and forth between yours, brown irises a mixture of concern and fear and something you couldn't place. He breathed in deeply and when you didn't catch on he did it again until you understood he wanted you to follow. And soon enough with long inhales of oxygen soaking into your lungs you felt yourself come down from the peak, nerves soothing until the anxiety was only a shallow presence.

"You're alright," he hummed.

His hand moved from your neck to brush the other side of your head, curling stray hairs back around your ear, fingers tracing the baby hairs along your hairline as he repeated his words. It was like an unseen barrier had been broken and now he was treating you like someone precious to him instead of a glorified ex-classmate. But the way his eyes trailed over your face, tracing your features and softening made you hope he never stopped because your skin tingled in the wake of his fingertips and the anxiety that had been bubbling in your stomach was slowly disintegrating into a sweet sickly goo.

"Do you remember Mr. Michaelson's class senior year?" he asked, voice rumbling after a few heart beats of silence. You rubbed the fabric of his shirt between your fingertips, brows pulling together as you tried to follow his train of thought.

"You sat behind me and I don't know how it started but you used to give me these braids and everyday I'd walk out of there looking like I'd just left sleep-away camp."

He let out a chuckle, eyes squinting down at you as his fingers trailed down your neck, dancing over your throat until they found a piece of hair. He twirled it over his pointer finger, wrapping it then letting it loose and wrapping it again. You felt your breath hitch, hands tightening into fists, his shirt destined to be wrinkled from your grasp. You could tell he was trying to distract you, placate your mind so your body could calm.

"They were these little tiny braids that took me forever to take out when I got home. And my friends clowned me relentlessly for them, surprised that I even let someone touch my hair. But," his eyes found yours shining up at him, stealing his breath for a moment as his fingers paused, "I didn't have the heart to tell you to stop."

You thought back, the memory pooling into your mind like a cracked dam. The way you would tug his hair lightly, braid the bottom pieces, micro braids that made him look like a warrior. And he would grumble at you with faux annoyance, soft tone and tugging smile letting you know it wasn't genuine. You weren't sure where this memory had been hiding but you realized you might've had a chest of memories dedicated to Eddie in the depths of your mind.

"Why not?" Your voice was quiet and uneven but he took it as a good sign that you were forming clear words.

"Because–" he hesitated, tongue moving to swipe his lower lip, "–Because you weren't scared of me. You laughed at my jokes and you asked me how my day was going."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, a memory flashing behind his eyes, eyelids weighted as his gaze transfixed you.

"And you were the only person who would pair up with me to do any assignments." He let out a soft, bittersweet laugh that emanated low in his chest. "I used to wonder why you didn't get annoyed by that. I mean, I was pretty hopeless in that class."

You felt your heart constrict at the painful reminder that Eddie did not have the best experience in school. And you remember arguing with kids that would feed the rumor mill and say nasty things about him. You couldn't even imagine what he must've been going through even before Chrissy Cunningham's death let alone after. High school was a lonely, devastating place that played cruel games on those deemed outsiders.

"You treated me like a normal person and not the psycho drug dealer that was accused of murder," he paused again, lightly tugging the strand of hair between his fingers, "and honestly the thought of saying no to you was kinda incomprehensible."

The way you stared at him, mouth slightly parted and cheeks warm with what he could only describe as stars in your eyes had his chest clenching painfully. You had always been pretty. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd caught himself staring at you in the cafeteria, at your locker, giggling with your friends during free period or loitering around the parking lot waiting for a ride. He knew you were pretty. But it had taken him a while to realize that his lingering stares meant something a little more.

"You were kinda, like, one of the only good things about high school." His admission had your heart stuttering. There were a few beats of silence before you managed to speak.

"You were nice," you finally said, voice raspy and uneven. "And funny. I liked talking to you."

Closer up and without the world spinning you could finally make out the dark brown of his irises. "And I liked your hair," you added.

He let out a snuff of a laugh, eyes crinkling as he peered down at you.

"Yeah?"

A soft smile worked its way onto your lips as you nodded. "Yeah."

"Even now without your braids?" he asked, shaking his head a little to let his curls bounce around. Your smile grew as you watched him.

"I can give you more if you want," you replied. He grinned at you.

If he moved in only a few more inches he could press his lips to yours and pull you closer like he had imagined all those years ago. He could admit that he had dreaded graduating for the sole purpose of not knowing when he would get to see you again. He could finally ask if you'd let him take you out without his reputation or social status holding him back.

He cut off his runaway thoughts. You still had visible lines on your face from your tears, eyes red and skin puffy. He could feel you shaking still, leaning onto him like you'd tumble to the ground without his support. Your strand of hair fell from his fingers, his smile waning, and slowly, reluctantly he was pulling away as if his sudden illuminating words had broken the bubble you had created. Your face suddenly felt cold without his calloused hands tracing your features. He took a half step back, hands now carefully on your upper arms and with a noticeably more guarded expression.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was softer again.

You took a steady breath and nodded. Though your vision was clear now and you didn't feel like puking again, your body felt weak and exhausted. Shame and guilt wove a tight blanket in your stomach and you felt stuck in between more rushed apologies or never showing your face in public again.

"I'm okay," is what you settled on. He surveyed you for a moment longer before nodding.

"I think we should probably go find your friends."

You nodded back, pinpricks of dread poking at your ribs at the thought of facing the disorienting bar again. The thought of combing through the crowd, squinting through the flashing lights and permanent haze of smoke to find your friends probably still tripping out on whatever godforsaken drug you had taken made you wilt. Eddie caught your eyes again.

"Or," he started, eyes moving between yours as a crease formed between his. His thumbs swirled softly on the cotton of your biceps. "Maybe I should just take you home?"

The suggestion lingered in the air for a moment before you were nodding, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter.

"Please," it was small and quiet but all he needed to hear before he was stepping closer again to run his hand down your back.

"I can pay you back. I have some cash at home–"

"No way–"

"Eddie–"

"No chance. You think I'd make you pay me for a ride? It's on my way home," he lied, shaking his head at you as you furrowed your brows.

"But–" you fought to gather your thoughts, mind turning murky as you focused on the soothing pattern his hand was making on your back. "I'm cutting your night short."

"I was gonna leave anyway," he lied again and his eyes zeroed in on the small pout forming on your lips.

You shook your head, narrowing your eyes up at him but they had little fight behind them.

"You've never let me repay you for a ride," you commented, remembering the handful of times he drove you home from school, claiming just as he was now that it was on his way when you knew it wasn't.

"And I never will," he replied, a grin crawling over his features. Your disgruntled expression softened until a smile of your own was fighting its way onto your lips.

"Thank you, Eddie," you said.

"You don't have to thank me either," he said and you wanted to scoff.

"Well, what can I do?"

His eyes glinted at you, hand slipping from your back to rest at the curve of your elbow. An expression flashed across his face for a second before he hid it behind a well practiced smirk.

"Let me take you out."

You blinked at him and he blinked back. You both seemed to be caught off guard by his words but before he could cover them up with a weak joke you were nodding at him.

"That sounds fair," you supplied with an even tone though your cheeks felt like they were on fire and his hands on you were scalding you through your thin shirt.

"Yeah?" he breathed, surprise mixing with poorly concealed delight.

"Yeah. But I'm driving," you retorted and he let out a laugh.

"Then that's not me taking you out," he countered.

"Then I guess I'm taking you out," you stated and he laughed again, eyes crinkling and grip tightening. You remembered the sound, something else that had been tucked away in the Eddie chest in your brain and you made a mental note to sift through it later as his hand found the small of your back to guide you through the rainbow storm of lights to the familiar warmth of his van that smelled like cigarettes and pinewood and cologne and something that was distinctly Eddie.

Taglist: @eateraa, @feminist-mina-harker, @eddie-my-lovex, @samlealea

Link to my masterlist :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

coffee cart girl (pt10)

words: 6,653 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: well this is it! the last part of CCG :) previous parts under this tag! warnings: sexual instances, but pretty SFW tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.

A lot can happen in a short amount of time. Lately, you feel as if you understand this better than anyone.

Elvis has been out in theaters for about two weeks and it’s been an endless, revolving door of good chaos since then. Austin’s booked for interviews, events, talk shows, and auditions. Some things you go with him to, either by specific invite or by him including you as his date. It’s been one hell of an experience but you’ve still managed to keep a low profile, or as low as possible, Austin doing his best to also shield you from becoming saturated in his world.

Your name is out there—it’s on articles, pap photographs, social media. You’ve had to turn your profile private to gain a little sanity until you figure out what you want to do. There’s an influx of followers, DMs, and you know it has nothing to do with you but rather wanting the attention of Austin through you. You juggle everything you can, you’re beyond happy for Austin’s accomplishments and don’t regret a single decision you’ve made.

But sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, especially when you allow yourself to go down the black hole of online commentary.

Sometimes it’s unavoidable, as much as you try to. Your scrolling feed is constantly taken up by candid photos of you and Austin—some fan accounts, some decidedly not. Some people are so kind—raining compliments on you, your relationship, and Austin’s role as Elvis. Even though you don’t require anyone’s approval, you have to admit that it…sometimes feels nice to see things like that? Which means, on the opposite end of the spectrum, it feels just as terrible when nasty things are said.

With your name being out there, people dig into your past, into anything they can find about you—there’s a lot of shit talking about how Austin is too good for you and that he shouldn’t be stooping to a lower level to date someone below him. It’s utterly ridiculous, you know that—these comments come from vile emotions and jealousies and it’s so stupid to even give it an inkling of your time.

But you’re human and words hurt.

Sometimes you really miss the privacy of those early days when it was just you and Austin hiding out in his trailer between coffee deliveries on set.

You can hear Austin get off the phone with Baz in the other room of your apartment, making his way back to being in bed with you. You’re lying on your stomach, pillow underneath your arms as you feel the mattress dip. Exhaustion is pulling at your nerve endings, making the words you’ve read hit a bit harder than maybe they usually would. You can feel Austin pause a moment, maybe seeing the screen of your phone before you set it down on the nightstand. He mimics those actions with his own phone, a sigh leaving his mouth as his body blankets yours.

Sandalwood mixed with his own scent slips over you as his arms wrap around your shoulders. You sniffle, wiping your face with one hand as his body completely maps along yours under the covers. He’s quiet, his hand working along your shoulders before he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“I really wish you wouldn’t look at that crap.” He says softly, voice a deep timbre, comforting.

The weight of his body is warm and you turn your head a little as his lips brush along your temple, moving to press a few kisses down your cheek and along your jawline.

“I know,” You whisper, “Can’t always avoid it.”

Austin’s quiet for a few moments, mostly just the sound of your shared breathing, his hand working through your hair while the other creates a circle of movement from rubbing along your arm to squeezing your shoulder blade.

“Remember what I told you the first time this happened?” He asks.

You swallow over the lump in your throat but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. You sniffle again, wiping a tear track off your cheek before nodding, “You and me.”

“Only opinions that matter,” Austin nods, squeezing you. “I know it hurts, m’not saying you can’t be upset by it, but they don’t know you.”

You let that settle inside you for a few moments before shifting underneath him. He leans up so you can more easily move your body, lying on your back to look up at him. Austin lays down beside you, on his side, his one leg entangling it with yours as his hand rests along your stomach. Keeping himself propped up on his other arm, he looks down at you, some of his blondish curls resting over his forehead.

“But you do?” You ask, reaching out to touch one of them with your fingers.

He smirks lightly, his hand moving from your torso to run his thumb along your lower lip. “Like to think I do at this point,” Your press a kiss to the pad of his thumb, “Your nose crinkles when you’re mad about somethin’ trivial—like when they got rid of that alien movie on Netflix that you were watchin’.”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t finished with it yet—”

He continues, a small smile on his lips, “You’re obsessed with fish at aquariums which…I find kinda weird yet endearing at the same time. You drink your coffee with too much cream, you got one ticklish spot along your lower back, and I’m pretty sure you could eat a whole carton of mint-chocolate ice cream if given the chance.”

You laugh softly, your cheeks splotching pink even though you’re totally not ashamed of your quirks…and it seems like Austin isn’t either. He knows you, sees you, even darker parts that you sometimes don’t want to claim, but he doesn’t look away.

There’s just…this almost overwhelming feeling in your chest, exploding warmth that seems to touch every part of you as Austin talks. You love him—the words rest on your tongue but dart to hide underneath it. You’re not sure you can say it outloud, not yet.

“You could eat a whole carton of ice cream too,” You tease, playing with his hair again, “I dunno why you’re puttin’ that all on me.”

Austin chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating gently against your body. Cupping his cheek, you lean up to kiss him, drawing him down until he’s lined up perfectly against you. Some things are just automatically going to hurt, people are going to say things they got no business saying—but the point is? You can’t let it change you.

Drawing your hands up and under his shirt, he leans up lightly to take it off, tossing it aside. He’s read your mind, smiling as you nip at his lower lip, this thin gold chain he’s been wearing around his neck dangling over you as your lips are joined together once again. Neither of you can keep your hands off eachother, mouths moving quicker as breathing picks up, a soft moan leaves your throat as you feel him roll his hips down into yours. Clearly that’s his intention because there’s a soft smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth,

“Don’t tease.” You mumble and he hums in response.

He peppers kisses along your jawline and neck as more layers of clothes are removed between you, his fingers slipping between your legs and carefully working you open before he slides inside. There’s a moment of no movement, just clutching one another, a harsh breath leaving your lips as your legs wrap around him. He holds himself up so he’s not crushing you, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he begins to move.

There’s no drawing this out, you both know what the other needs and wants, your back arching slightly as his hips roll down. Clutching at his back, your breath stuttering in your throat, your eyes squeeze shut when his hand moves down between you, finding a bundle of nerves with his fingertips. Pleasure rolls into your body like a drug, slow at first and then quick and steady, his own following.

Once your bodies stop moving, a thin sheen of sweat sticking to skin, you reach up and run your thumb along his jawline, kissing him gently. Your fingers move into his hair, drawing it away from his face as he moves to lie down beside you.

There’s a mixture of emotions resting at the bottom of your ribcage and you know it has everything to do with endorphins heightening how you feel. Or maybe that’s not quite fair or accurate—you’ve been with Austin for a decent amount of time now, friendly a lot longer than that, you’ve come to know him as he knows you. So it’s not quite out of the blue for you to say,

“I love you.” And the skin on your chest splotches pink as you look away. You don’t want to take it back but you suddenly feel the need to explain or oversimplify, “Must be all that talk about ice cream and the uh—orgasm didn’t hurt.”

Austin smirks, cupping both sides of your face with his hands. He leans close, waiting until your gaze meets his, “Love you too baby.” He mumbles, his voice reaching deep in your chest and squeezing. You roll your eyes a little at the pet name but you’re smiling.

Falling asleep next to him has never felt so good.

Lingering in Austin’s kitchen in a pair of soft shorts and one of his t-shirts, you lean against the counter with your hair back in a messy bun. You’ve made these ginger molasses cookies that are totally out of season but one of your favorite things to pull the ingredients together for. The icing is addictive and you’re currently licking it off a spoon while waiting for the tester cookie in the oven. There’s an Elvis record playing in the background because ever since you saw the film, you can’t quite get some songs out of your head.

And there’s a ninety percent chance that if an Elvis song is playing around Austin, sometimes he sings along…and that’s a treat for everyone involved.

Speaking of, as you check the time, he should be headed home soon after another late-night talk show interview. You were supposed to come with to linger in the audience or backstage but a migraine hit you at the last moment—you’re definitely feeling a lot better but kinda bummed that you missed seeing him in one of his elements.

He just carries those interviews with such a matter of charisma, grace, and humbleness that it’s sort of addictive to watch. Not even to mention his handsome, boyish smiles, and the easy way he handles so many conversations.

The oven dings and you move to take the test cookie out, setting it on a plate on the stove as you hear the front door open and close. Looking over your shoulder, you smile as Austin wanders into the kitchen, dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, black-mesh button down shirt underneath. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way your heart skitters in your chest or your stomach flutters when you see him,

“Cookies?” He asks before you hum in response.

Austin puts a shopping bag down onto the counter, moving around the island table to lean down and press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, leaning into the touch as he cups your cheek,

“You feelin’ better?”

“Less like my head might explode, so yes,” You lick your lips, pushing yourself up onto your toes to kiss him properly.

Austin uses that time to sneak his hand along the plate in front of you to steal this cookie and you push him slightly with your body to pin him to the counter, playfully tapping his wrist with the spatula you’re holding.

“Really?”

There’s a cheeky smile there already on his lips, “C’mon, I want somethin’ sweet.”

“I can give you something sweet.” You flirt in response and he smirks. Before you can even do anything about it, he lifts you up to sit on the counter. “Hey!” Laughing, “The cookies need to go in the oven, no time for this.”

Austin moves to pick up the tray you’re referring to, putting it in the oven. He tries to return to you but you’re motioning for the timer, in which he huffs and sets the desired time before moving to slip between your legs. You’re almost the same height now, your hands falling to his shoulders to feel the fabric of his suit jacket.

“I’m sure you were causin’ riots in this mesh shirt you got on.”

His cheeks turn the softest of pinks, shaking his head as he dips his chin down a little to press a kiss to your fingertips once he lifts one of your hands. “Was only thinkin’ about one girl’s opinion.”

You hope he knows he doesn’t have to do that—you trust him around fans and other people even though you can’t deny the heat that slips into your belly when he says stuff like that. “Well I can definitely help you take it off—that’s one of my first opinions about it.”

Austin hums, at the very least sliding off the suit jacket and setting it along the back of a chair within arm’s reach; that’s nice of him. “Now all of a sudden we’re not worried about the cookies?” He teases, clasping your chin and leaning down to press a quick kiss before pulling back a little. “I do got somethin’ I want to tell you.”

You pout a little to which he smirks and thumbs over your lower lip.

“Good and bad news—what do you want first?”

Blegh, that instantly makes you feel uneasy. The look on his face isn’t giving terribly awful vibes? So hopefully whatever he’s got to tell you isn’t life shattering. You crinkle your nose,

“Uh, I dunno—good? No wait. Bad—I want bad first.”

He smirks lightly before nodding—there’s a dramatic pause and you’re almost ready to smack his chest, “Store was out of those mini muffins you like, checked before I came home—”

You gasp out a laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder which makes Austin laugh too, “Is that seriously the bad news? Jesus, Austin.”

“Good news?” He doesn’t miss a beat, leaning forward to hold your gaze, his hands resting on your thighs. “I handed off your script to Baz and he has a producer who wants to work with you.”

It takes a moment for the information to register, slowly blinking at him because…no, really?

“Seriously?” You ask quickly, “Like—for real?”

Austin smiles because, “I’m not gonna joke about somethin’ like that, Y/N.”

A sharp sound leaves your lips, a grin breaking out onto your face until you’re throwing yourself forward into Austin’s arms. It’s slightly too fast and awkward but he catches you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he holds you close. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing so tight, his cologne mixing with the smell of ginger cookies in a ridiculously delicious way.

There’s so much excitement bubbling up in your chest that you barely register when Austin puts you back down on the ground, cupping your cheeks with both his hands. He’s smiling down at you, his nose crinkling from pure affection,

“I’m so proud of you.” He says and it makes a lump appear in your throat that you quickly swallow over. He peppers a few kisses on your face as the oven dings that the cookies are ready.

Today’s a pretty perfect day.

He’s late.

In hindsight, you maybe shouldn’t have shown up to the bar you are supposed to meet at ten minutes early but it was one of those things where you didn’t have much to do at home other than to get ready for your night out. Austin has been knee-deep in interviews lately, sometimes about Elvis, sometimes figuring out what his next project is—you know he’s been stretched a little thin, running around places and still at the same time supporting what you got going on with this script.

It's in early development stages and you’re trying not to get too ahead of yourself but…you’re pretty certain something legit is going to come out of this. Only a matter of time, effort and discussions. You let out a slow breath to settle your nerves that always stir up when you begin thinking about it. The point is tonight to meet up with Austin, have a few drinks, dinner…see what else happens.

Both of you have been busy lately, which isn’t bad? But you definitely miss him. That’s supposed to be the whole goal of tonight’s date—spend time, carve out a small part of the world for yourselves and you alone.

Except he’s late and it only starts to bother you when ten minutes turns into twenty and the only text back you have from him when you say I’m gonna start drinking without you is, sorry xo.

Sighing, you turn towards the bartender and order another house margarita, stirring the giant ice cube with a lime slice in your empty glass. You’re not one to get too bogged down in what you’re wearing but you were even a bit pleased with the little black dress you decided to put on tonight—long mesh sleeves, a slit up the leg, conforming to your curves but not constricting. Austin’s just one of those people that looks good no matter what he’s wearing.

You’re trying not to be annoyed with him, you know he’d be on time if he could be. You just don’t want this to become some sort of pattern and at the very basic level, you miss him.

You stretch your legs, checking the time again as you stand from the bar stool.

“Don’t tell me someone stood you up.”

You turn a little to see some guy settle in a chair near yours, leaning against the bar. He looks about your age, handsome, but not your type—a bit too muscular along the shoulders and upper arms. He’s not as aggravating as his question and part of you wishes you could just ignore it somehow,

“No,” You smile politely even though you kinda want to grit your teeth, “My boyfriend’s just late.”

He lets out a slow breath, “Well good thing—I was gonna say, pretty thing like you? Somethin’ wrong with the world if you’re gettin’ stood up.”

You suppose there’s a compliment in there somewhere but the last thing you want to do is acknowledge it. You already know that this guy definitely has one of those borderline personalities where you give them an inch and they walk all over you. There’s gonna be no misinterpretations here that you somehow invited an extra bout of friendliness from him.

You just wish Austin was here.

Despite not much feedback from you, the guy moves over a chair, ordering a beer from the bartender. “Can I uh—buy you that drink?” He offers to the one delivered by the bartender, taking the empty glass.

You blink because—persistent, before shaking your head. “No thank you.”

“C’mon,” He reaches out to touch your arm and great, it’s gonna be one of those nights, “Just one drink—who’s that gonna hurt?”

You pull your arm free and are about to say something, taking a step back from him when you collide with someone behind you. It’s Austin, you know that almost automatically before he even speaks—the scent of his cologne mixed with the stance of his body along your back. He’s got one hand on the bar, almost creating a cage around your form,

“She’s good, pretty sure she was clear the first time.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek and definitely feel a small amount of relief that he’s there, the warmth of his body pressed against your own, his height working in advantage over the guy who’s sitting. He rolls his eyes but seems a bit nervous, picking up his drink and getting up from his chair,

“Maybe teach your girl not to practically ask for company when you’re not around, man.”

Austin goes rigid, you can feel it before glancing up at his face. The muscle in his jaw works as his eyes dip a little darker blue, ice, and you put your hand on his chest to prevent him from walking forward as the other guy moves away.

“Don’t,” You say gently, “He’s not worth it.”

Once you’re sure Austin isn’t going anywhere, you run a hand through your hair and glance over the light grey suit he’s wearing paired with a soft white button-down shirt underneath, little bit open like he used to wear the lace shirts on set. He looks good but it’s also clear he didn’t go home between the interview and coming to the bar—straight here.

“It would have been worth it,” Austin adds after a moment, “Trust me.”

And while the sentiment is there and you are happy to see him, you can’t stop the swirl of irritation from snaking up from inside your chest and slipping out of your mouth, “He wouldn’t have even said anything to me if he hadn’t noticed I was sitting at the bar alone for a half n hour.”

You regret the tone of your voice the moment the words come out of your mouth, a soft sigh following because that is…not how you want to convey your frustration. Or it be one of the first things you say to him. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you turn to look at him and that comment definitely sets his teeth on edge.

“I got here as soon as I could.”

This…you do not want to have a fight about this, “I know.” The last thing you want to do is somehow make him feel bad for something out of his control but you’re also unnerved that this random guy got under your skin and—and Austin just so happened to show up at the right time. What if he hadn’t?

“I don’t think you do,” Austin replies and his voice has a bit more of a twang to it, because he’s upset, those Elvis adoptions not completely able to melt away from him. “You think I didn’t want to be here when I said I was gonna be? That I don’t—miss you because my schedule’s gotten a bit more hectic?”

You shake your head, your eyebrows drawing together, “No, of course not—I never said that.”

“You don’t have to, it’s on your face.”

A scoff leaves your lips, you don’t like the feeling of being talked down to, “Well what—I’m just supposed to magically adapt to you being late all the time? And I’m not talking about five minutes every so often, Austin, it’s getting worse. This time was a half n hour, last week I was sitting at a restaurant for an hour.”

“I apologized for that—”

“And I’m not holding it against you,” You state, wanting to make sure that’s clear. You’re only bringing it up because he is, “I get being pulled in multiple directions, trying to figure out what way is up.”

You empathize with that, you really do—you know that the experience is once in a lifetime and that he’s really reaping the benefits of all the hard work he’s put in for over two years for this role. But that doesn’t mean that now that the film is over that his life is any less demanding. You understand, you’re proud of him, but you’re also…trying to figure out where you fit into his life.

You’re a priority, right?

“Right well, it’s a bit more complicated than just deliverin’ coffee on set all day, Y/N.”

Ouch.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to say—you know that probably wasn’t supposed to come out as it did. It takes a few moments for Austin’s facial expression to shift, frustrated and angry to gentle regret. He swallows, looking away from you as he shakes his head. His fingers tap along the bar as an uncomfortable silence sits on both your chests, cinderblocks.

Austin’s eyebrows draw together before he lets out a soft sigh, running a hand over his face before lingering along his jawline. In thought, thumb along his lower lip before he finally speaks,

“Shit—I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you know that, he’d never hurt you on purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that it did hurt.

You clear your throat, pushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m gonna head home.” Because despite waiting for him and wanting to see him, the last place you want to be right now is at this bar.

“Y/N.” Austin tries, reaching for your elbow even as you pull away and head straight for the door, “Please lemme just—” He’s never really stumbled over his words before but he seems to be struggling to find the right ones to get you to stay.

And you especially, for the first time, don’t feel like being out on a date with him.

Getting a shower and into a pair of comfy joggers, you top it all off with an oversized t-shirt, which may or may not be one of Austin’s. Pushing your damp hair out of your eyes, you know that you probably shouldn’t have just left him at the bar like that. No more runnin’ away—and yet, there had been so much pulling at you from every angle you just didn’t know how to balance being there. You run a hand over your face, plopping onto the couch. Just bad communication throughout. Maybe it was wrong of you to feel sensitive about the whole ‘coffee cart’ thing—he wasn’t exactly wrong; Austin does have more complicated responsibilities than that. But at the same time, he once made you feel that every job was important on set, no matter what it was. Doesn’t that still apply?

There’s an insecurity there of being with him, of not measuring up, and unknowingly he’s jabbed a nerve, pulled the scab off new and still healing skin.

Just when your cat jumps onto the couch for pets, a small smile tugging the corners of your face as he rolls onto his back to expose his belly, there’s a knock at your door. You wonder if it might be Jillian—you’d given her bare minimum texts about your fight (fight? Is that what it was?) and she’s probably dying for details, or she’s worried.

Regardless, you open the door without looking to see who it is.

And it’s Austin.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, freshly showered and in a pair of light blue jeans with a simple white t-shirt. Your body reacts so easily to him—heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering, feeling lighter somehow even though it goes against what your gut is telling you.

“Hey,” He clears his throat, “Can I uh—” Austin motions to the inside of your apartment and you chew on the inside of your cheek, nodding before opening the door further so he can step inside.

Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, you begin shaking your head before Austin even has a chance to say anything. The thing with memory and recalling past conversations is that is sometimes always feels worse than it actually was—you don’t want to fight with him, not about this.

“It’s—” You let out a soft sigh, “Look, don’t worry about what happened, okay?”

“Don’t do that,” Austin interrupts gently, almost talking over the last half of your sentence. He reaches out to touch your elbow, drawing you a bit closer, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was bein’ an asshole. Was worked up with other things and I took it out on you.”

And you get that—that’s something he doesn’t need to explain. It’s been a constant conversation since you’ve met him, a transparency about the work and life balance struggle, the fact that he’s getting pulled in so many directions and experiences. The events and encounters themselves are not bad things but…Austin’s human and he’s juggling so many plates that some of them are beginning to slip from his grasp and shatter on the floor.

He was frustrated within itself that he was late to meet you, and you approached that with the same level of irritation instead of support. Just like you shouldn’t have bottled up your concerns about seeing him less and less—you miss him, that’s natural. But you don’t want him to think that you have to pick and choose; being a couple, or honoring successes. That’s never been who you are together.

It’s a testament, really, how well you two communicate over the course of your relationship because if it breaks down, even once? Everything begins to fray at the edges and fall apart.

Taking a step closer to him, you reach up to cup his cheek. His hair is slightly more springy because it’s still damp, big golden curls that hang loose over his forehead. He’s got a spackle of beauty marks along his one cheekbone and you can’t help but run your thumb over them. Austin turns his head a bit into the touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I should have been clearer too—I got snappy about you bein’ late because I miss you.”

He smiles a little, nodding, “That guy bein’ there really didn’t help.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head. Then you tip your chin up to look at him, a bit of a deviousness in your eyes as you say, “Actually I was gonna let him buy me a drink soon, he was wearin’ me down. That wouldn’t have been okay with you?”

Austin quickly wraps you up in his arms, keeping you close, a laugh skittering out of your chest at his insistence. “No,” He leans down and brushes your lips together, voice an octave deeper somehow, “That wouldn’t have been okay with me.”

Smiling, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him, his arms slowly squeezing as he moves to plant a kiss on your forehead, the bridge of your nose and finally the corner of your lips.

“M’sorry,” He repeats quietly, nearly a whisper.

You smile a little and nod, “You’re forgiven.” You promise.

Austin picks you up in a flourish, taking you to the couch to lay down, laughing echoing against the apartment walls. It may not be an outing at a bar or restaurant, but it turns out your night is even better than what you had planned.

Letting out a slow breath, you attempt to keep your hands from shaking as you walk down the street with Austin towards a bistro. You’re meeting this producer, Max, that Baz has so graciously given your script to and he’s agreed to further the conversation—whatever that may mean. Could mean nothing or…could mean everything. You may not have the full story yet but at least you know that this isn’t some favor that your actor boyfriend got for you—he may have passed along your script but it’s your words and work that has gotten you this far.

You just keep needing to remind yourself about that…you deserve to be here, to be taken seriously, seen.

While you’re in a red, flowy, polka dot dress that sits right above your knees, Austin is in a pair of dark jeans, an olive-colored t-shirt and an open denim material button down. He’s not going into the bistro with you, just walking you there for moral support. And damn, do you need it. Every so often you can feel Austin’s hand squeeze yours, his thumb working back and forth over your knuckles and fingers.

“You know you don’t have to be nervous, right?” Austin asks, voice slightly teasing, “The hard part’s over—he read your script.”

“I am…totally not nervous.” You huff out which only makes him chuckle.

He’s about to say something else when a small group of girls that exits the coffee shop that you both cross in front of recognize Austin. There are just these moments of sound—gasping, giggling, excitement. It’s one of those things where, if Austin didn’t want to be bothered, he could definitely just bypass it because there are no words coming out of these girl’s mouths. Even with a more defined reaction, he could just walk on by with you.

But he doesn’t because that’s not who Austin is. He recognizes the reactions almost immediately and slows down, turning towards the noises with kind smiles. Once he makes eye contact, the words come pouring out—

“Oh my god!” “Hi, can we please get some photos with you?” “I loved you in Elvis, you were amazing, I remember I watched The Carrie Diaries and you were great there too—” Just voices overlapping over the other even though they’re attempting to talk in a calm and collected manner.

You let go of Austin’s hand so he has free range to pose for selfies, other photos and sign random napkins and coffee cups that the girls are holding. It’s hard not to smile as you watch the interactions—Austin has always been so genuine, he takes the time to talk to people, carves five minutes out of his day to ask the girls their names and how their day is. Not many celebrities, let alone just people in general, are so willing to offer that to others.

It's one of the things you really love about him.

“We gotta get going guys but thank you so much,” Austin backs up, reaching for your hand again, “It was really nice talkin’ to all of you.”

The girls glance over at you, kind smiles, one of them waving while another thanks you for stopping. It kind of floors you because Austin’s capable of handling these situations however he wants, but…you have to admit, it’s nice being considered. You offer your own goodbyes before you and Austin begin walking down the street again, only a block away from the bistro.

“They were really nice.” You muse and Austin nods.

“More often than not, they’re really great.” He means fans in general and then looks over at you, “You were pretty great too.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips because you know he means just being patient with the whole fan thing. Honestly if people are respectful and polite, the fan experience is a wonderful thing to witness. Not to mention you consider yourself one of them, a fan of Austin’s, it’s how this whole thing started.

Slowing down outside the bistro, Austin turns to look at you, a gentle laugh rumbling in his chest. “You’re tellin’ me you’re not nervous? You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in, looking into the bistro windows and then back up at Austin. Your heart is definitely hammering in your ears at this point and your hands have slipped to rest along his waist, almost holding onto him like a lifeline.

“Alright, well maybe just a little.”

He shakes his head, smiling a little as he slips off his denim button down to drape over your shoulders. The lingering scent of his cologne and warmth of his skin does end up making you feel slightly calmer.

“Just take a deep breath, hmm?” He suggests and you do that, it helps a little. Then he realizes there’s another approach he can take.

Austin leans down to press a kiss to your lips and somewhere in your general vicinity, you hear the shutter of a camera going off. You’ve learned not to bristle and in this case? Embrace it. Your relationship has come a long way from that first photo taken of you two in the parking lot of that taco restaurant, your first date. So instead of shying away, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him close.

He smirks, you can feel it against your lips as he continues to kiss you, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your jawline. You can hear a few more photos being taken but there’s a confidence this time in who you are, your relationship and what you want that sits warmly in your belly.

It feels good.

When the kiss naturally ends, Austin smiles down at you, brushing his lips along the bridge of your nose before taking a step back, “You’re gonna be great—I’ll see you at home.”

You smile and nod, squeezing his hand before moving to tug the door open to the bistro. You believe him.

So it turns out, good things really do come to those who wait—or maybe in this case, put in the work and take encouragements from their boyfriend seriously. Max has decided to do something with your script, there’s a lot more that needs flushed out and you have that knee-jerk reaction to not be too hopeful but…it’s pretty official. Your script will be turned into a film. Austin doesn’t exactly say I told you so but his eyes are bright and wide when you tell him.

There are many laughs and kisses that follow.

On a rare Wednesday morning when neither of you have any obligations pulling your attention, there’s the opportunity to sleep in. And you do, until coffee feels unavoidable. You gently slip out from under Austin’s arm as he sleeps on his stomach, turned away from you, blonde curls slightly wild. He makes a soft noise at the movement but doesn’t wake up.

Going to the kitchen, you put on a pot of coffee and pour it into mugs once it’s ready. You make yours the way you like it and take a few long sips, leaning against the counter before getting his all set—black with cream.

The ceramic warming your hands, you take the mugs back into the bedroom. A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you sit next to Austin’s torso, putting the mugs down on the nightstand. He lets out a slow breath, which means he’s awake just hasn’t opened his eyes. You quietly run your hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He moves a bit, yawning and pressing his face into the pillow.

Blue sleepy eyes look up at you, skin a soft pink from the impression of the pillow. “Thought the whole point was to sleep in.” He teases, moving to wrap an arm around your lower waist. His voice is just a twinge deeper than usual, a bit raspy from just waking up.

“I did,” You purse your lips, “For like an hour—coffee was calling.”

Austin shakes his head but he’s not gonna argue about that, it seems. He moves in bed until he’s leaning against the headboard, running one hand through his messy hair and moving to press a kiss to your jawline. Licking his lips, he picks up his coffee and takes a sip. You reach your hand over and adjust the simple gold chain he sometimes wears around his neck—forgot to take it off before bed again.

“Some things never change.” Austin says, motioning to the coffee.

You smile, can’t help it—you suppose that’s true in a way. Here you are, yet again bringing Austin coffee. Shifting forward, you let your hand rest on his chest as you steal a soft kiss, his lips moving easily against your own.

Everything's changed, yet nothing has.

Can’t believe it’s over! Once again I super appreciate all the comments, likes, reblogs, and asks about CCG! Never know, we might do a one-shot or something for this universe ;) I do have some requests that I will be posting, so I am looking forward to hearing from any of you on those.

It’s been fun!

tag list: @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan, @jasminex12, @simpforevery1, @dre6ming, @behindmygreyeyes

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg series #ccg

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dawninlatin · 6 months

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manorian angst

When dark forces threaten, the leaders of Erilea must come to aid in yet another war to save their world. The problem is that Manon barely survived the hell that was the last war, and she can't go through it again.

Words: 3.1K | Masterlist | AO3 Link

«Tell me.» Manon ordered as she marched into the throne room, having landed in Orynth mere minutes ago. Abraxos had flown like the wind itself to get them here as soon as possible.

«Nice to see you too,» Aelin drawled from her throne, but her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The room was filled with the rest of her court, and a few other leaders from Erilea’s kingdoms, including one blue-eyed king.

«I don’t have time for this. Tell. Me.» Manon wasn’t known to be polite, even on her good days, but her heart had been racing ever since she’d received word of a new, rising threat causing her presence to be needed in Orynth immediatley, and she couldn’t think clearly when she was fighting the panic rising within her.

Not another war. Please, not another war.

«A few days ago, a portal opened, right outside of Orynth. A young female came from it, fae, frantic, begging us in the old language to help her people against these god-like creatures.» Aelin drew a shaking breath, Rowan placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

«We know them better as the valg.»

Manon’s ears started ringing, images of collars and cold, empty eyes appearing in her mind. Of her sisters disappearing in blinding flashes of light, one by one.

She could only half-listen as Aelin explained how she’d seen this world before, when she fell through the wyrdgates, how the valg they had defeated seemed harmless in comparison to these beings that could drain whole worlds of all life, how they had tried to drain this world before, and only gotten stronger since then, how they would eventually come back.

«But not if we help them.» It was Dorian that spoke this time, and Manon would be lying if she said his voice didn’t affect her any bit.

«No.» Manon hardly needed to think. There was no way she was doing this again. She’d barely survived the last war, was barely surviving now.

Aelin stared at her in shock. Manon couldn’t blame her. They didn’t know she was merely a ghost of who she used to be.

«You closed the gates. Our world can’t be reached,» Manon tried, but it sounded pathetic, desperate.

«She managed to reach us,» Aelin whispered. «Please.»

«No.»

She could feel a pair of sapphire eyes boring into her, and when she turned to look at him, Dorian’s face was full of hurt and betrayal. «Manon-»

«No.» Dorian could hate her all he liked, as long as it meant he was safe. Because how could she explain that just thinking about another war nearly made her suffocate?

The king gave her a long look, before turning on his heel and storming out.

Manon flung the door open, moving into the room where she knew the king would be. «You’re not doing this either. You’re not throwing yourself into this war.»

Dorian held her gaze for a long moment before he finally spoke, his face unreadable. «If you don’t want to fight with us, fine, there’s nothing I can do, apart from getting on my knees and begging, but I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. I refuse to see this world be destroyed after everything we did to save it.»

When Manon didn’t answer, he turned his back to her, stepping towards the tall window overlooking the gardens. «There’s nothing left for us to discuss, then.» The words were a dismissal, a cue for Manon to leave, and they left a stinging sensation in her heart.

Everything would have been a lot easier if she could leave, but she couldn’t. Not until she’d won this fight.

Over by the window, Dorian’s jaw tightened with suppressed anger, still not looking at her. A thin layer of frost began covering the glass as she just stood there, remaining silent.

What was there to say, anyway? That in the past two years, she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d gotten a good night’s sleep? That every time she closed her eyes, she saw her sisters racing towards their deaths, leaving her behind? That when the nightmares were at their worst, Dorian joined them?

The truth was that Manon was hanging on by a thread, barely keeping her pain and despair hidden.

She needed to say something, though, because she had seen this determination in Dorian before, right before he’d flown off to Morath, fully prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant saving everyone else.

And it was at the memory of waking up alone in a cold tent, terrified, but also so angry, that Manon regained her ability to speak.

«Dorian, please-»

She blinked, and the ice that had slowly been creeping over the window evaporated. Dorian’s head snapped up, and he looked as if she’d struck him. The voice she’d just used hadn’t fully sounded like her own, so raw and full of anguish.

«I can’t-» Manon began, but that voice failed her, her words ending in a hitch of breath. Tears were pressing behind her eyes, dangerously close to shedding.

«You can’t what?» Dorian asked her then, the question so careful, so far from the resolve he’d showed mere moments ago.

She couldn’t do this, was what, Manon thought to herself, but she was about to rupture, about to shatter into a million little pieces she had fought tooth and nail to hold together for the past two years.There was no power in any realm that could stop it, and Dorian would bear witness to it.

«Witchling…» Dorian whispered, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was so close now, and to her shock, Manon realized she was the one who’d moved closer, craving the comfort of his arms.

«I can’t go through it again. Dorian, please don’t-»

She drew a shuddering breath, but she couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs. Closing her eyes, Manon let the dam break.

«I can’t… I can’t lose more of the people I love when I barely have anyone left! I’m terrified, every fucking second of every fucking day that you’ll fly off on some suicide mission again because you have this insane idea that you need to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else, and I can’t do it, Dorian! I can’t lose-»

She practically screamed it at the king, hitting his chest as the words ended in choked sobs.

Dorian didn’t say anything as he grabbed hold of her arms, then pulled her close. Manon kept heaving, feeling as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, her vision clouded by tears

«Breathe, Manon. Just breathe.» Dorian’s hands moved up and down her back in a soothing motion, taking deep breaths alongside her. «In,» she tried inhaling with him, getting a little more air, «and out.»

They stood there for what felt like forever, Dorian whispering quiet encouragements, stroking her back, until Manon’s heart finally calmed a little, her breaths becoming more steady.

Manon looked up at Dorian, giving him a wordless thank you. In return, he gave her a soft smile, and Manon was so grateful that he always seemed to know what she tried to communicate, even when she couldn’t find the right words.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, if only slightly, as if he realized something.

«Did you just tell me you love me?» Dorian held her gaze, and part of her wanted to pull away at the intensity of it, but those sapphire eyes had her hypnotized.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Manon could hear the disbelief, the hope. It was enough to halt her crying, to make her forget, for a moment, that they were actually in the middle of a very important argument.

«That was what you got out of this? Of course I fucking love you, you complete idiot! Are you-»

She knew she sounded hysteric, but before she could finish her sentence, Dorian caught her lips with his.

The kiss was hungry, all-consuming, saying all the words neither of them could voice.

Manon answered with that same desperate hunger, the salt of her tears mixing with a familiar taste that could only be described as Dorian.

She needed to be even closer to him, lose herself in the pleasure only he could give her, but Dorian pulled away, panting. His hands cupped her face, and Manon felt the soft caress of an invisible finger move across her lips.

He looked almost wild, and his eyes were stormy as he spoke in a low and raspy voice. «I love you too, Manon. You have no idea how-»

This time, she was the one who pounced, lips crashing against his. If their former kiss was hungry, this one was ravenous. She opened herself up to him, his tongue entering her mouth. She sucked on it, and a low noise came from his throat. His hands moved down, down, to cup her ass, and she grabbed the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist.

Dorian started walking them towards the bed, meanwhile Manon kissed a trail across his jaw, down his throat, letting her teeth graze over his pulse point. She could feel him growing harder and harder against her, and her core throbbed in answer, needing to be filled.

As he reached the bed, Dorian carelessly tossed her onto it, immediately going to work on removing her clothes. His phantom hands started pulling off her trousers, while Dorian unlaced her shirt. He reached a hand inside to cup one of her breasts, brushing a finger over an already peaked nipple. Manon moaned, urging him to just take the damn shirt off.

He obeyed with a dark chuckle, but he was still too clothed in Manon’s opinion. Dorian stepped out of his own pants, while Manon, ever so impatient, simply ripped his shirt in half.

«What if I really liked that shirt?» Dorian teased, but Manon didn’t have time for his usual swagger. Letting out a near-feral growl, she reached for him, pulling him closer.

They were both naked now, and Manon claimed his mouth in a rough kiss whilst one of her hands moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock. She gave it a firm stroke once, twice, and Dorian groaned before he pushed her back down on the bed, beginning to kiss a trail down her neck, over her breasts, down-

«Inside me. Now.»

Manon grabbed his hair and pulled him back up to her mouth. She was already dripping wet, her cunt begging for him to fill her with his impressive length.

Invisible hands snaked up her legs, spreading them, and then Dorian lined himself up, filling her in one long, glorious stroke. She moaned at the tight fit, at the bolts of pleasure shooting up her spine.

Dorian panted, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His lips found her pulse, and he sucked right as he started moving inside her.

Manon held him tightly, clawing at his back as he slammed to the hilt over and over again, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes, and the new angle pulled an almost animalistic noise out of her as he brushed against her clit.

Already, she could feel that great wave rising, that blissful release beckoning. Dorian was close too, judging by the way he was panting, his rhythm faltering. He lifted his head and his eyes locked onto hers. Gold meeting sapphire. She couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. It was hypnotizing.

They were both desperate, two souls trying to get as close to each other as possible.

«Say that you’re mine,» Dorian growled, a low noise coming from his throat as Manon tightened her legs around him.

«I’m yours,» Manon moaned, unable to even identify all the emotions she was feeling in this moment.

«You’re mine.»

«I’m yours.»

Then he brought his thumb down on her clit, and that great wave crashed over her.

Manon screamed with pleasure, but the sound was muffled as Dorian’s mouth crashed into hers. He thrust into her hard, she could feel his cock throb inside her, could feel her cunt gripping him tight, and as she bit down on his lower lip, he followed her over the edge with a scream of his own.

«I’ll fight with you,» Manon said at last, looking up from where she was nestled against Dorian’s chest. A phantom hand was tracing circles on her upper thigh, but she was so exhausted the motion was more soothing than arousing. «I’ll ask my people, too, but I won’t force anyone, not after all they’ve been through.»

Dorian seemed to think for a moment. «I won’t pretend I’m not glad you’ll fight with us though I do feel a bit guilty.» He winced as he said that last part.

Manon touched her fingers to his lips, as if memorizing their shape. «You shouldn’t,» she said, not meeting his eyes. «Part of me knew from the beginning this was the right thing to do, I was just too much of a coward to admit it.»

«Look at me.» He grabbed her chin, tilting her face upwards. «You’re not a coward. You are so strong, Manon, and we’ve hardly had time to catch our breath since the last war, in which you went through hell. Not wanting to go through that again doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you…» he trailed off, looking for the right word.

«Human?» Manon suggested with a small laugh.

Dorian smiled. «In lack of a better term, yes.»

She remembered a different time, when being called human had been the greatest insult there was, when it had been beaten into her, time and time again, that caring made her weak. That love was for foolish cowards. It pleased her to know that in the end, her grandmother had lost that battle too.

Closing her eyes, Manon whispered, «I’m just so tired of being afraid all the time.» Another tear slipped free, but Dorian wiped it away quickly. She buried her head in his chest as she started crying once more, the sobs silent this time. Dorian only held her tighter, as she shook, stroking her hair.

Two years ago, Manon never would have allowed herself to show this much emotion, to even feel this much emotion, but she was weary, both body and soul, and she couldn’t keep fighting any longer.

«It will get better. I promise.»

One day, she vowed to herself, even if that wasn’t today, Manon would believe him.

«And I am sorry for how I left things when I went to Morath.»

«It was crucial-» Manon began, but Dorian halted her, needing to finish his apology.

«I agree, it was crucial to winning the war, but I could have gone about it differently. You laid yourself bare in front of me, and in response, even when I knew how difficult that must have been for you, I left in the dead of night without a word. For that, I am sorry.»

Manon held his gaze, something settling within her at the words she’d unknowingly needed to hear.

«For what it’s worth, if you had woken me up to say goodbye, I probably would have followed you. I nearly did, actually, no matter how furious I was.»

«I’m surprised you didn’t propose this time, to get me to stay,» Dorian mused, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Feeling a smile tugging at her lips, Manon replied, «That plan didn’t work, if you don’t remember.»

«Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.» He was clearly toying with her, but it made Manon feel a little lighter inside, so she decided to play along.

«You survive whatever hell we’re about to throw ourselves into, and I’ll propose again. I’ll get a ring and everything.» Manon punctuated the words with a trail of kisses down the hard planes of his stomach.

«Deal. You survive, and I promise I’ll say yes this time,» Dorian murmured, his hands going to her hair as she reached his cock, the length hardening once more.

Holding his gaze, Manon let out a breathless «Deal.»

«Do you want to know what I’m fighting for?» Dorian asked, his fingers not halting their soothing motions. Manon merely hummed in answer, both of them completely spent, physically and emotionally, after three more rounds.

«I’m fighting for a future where we can spend days in bed like this, just the two of us, no interruptions, whether that be annoying council members or impending doom.»

Manon snorted at that, and wasn’t that exactly why she loved him so much? Only Dorian could make her laugh at a time like this.

«But there won’t be a world for us to do that in if we do nothing.»

His words made Asterin’s voice echo inside Manon.

Live, Manon. Live.

And she would. She would take up this fight, join this war, so that she could one day simply live. She owed her cousin that much.

«Should we tell the others?» Something had straightened within her, and her voice sounded stronger, even if she didn’t move from her spot halfway on top of Dorian.

«In the morning. We both need to sleep, and I selfishly want us to stay in our own bubble a little longer.» Manon felt him sigh, and she looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as she brushed his hair out of his face.

«In the morning, then.»

Because the king was right, they needed to sleep. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, though inside, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her.

Bringing her face closer to his, she mouthed those three wondrous words against his lips, before claiming them. Right now, they could pretend they had all the time in the world.

«I love you too,» Dorian murmured in between lazy, unhurried kisses.

When they settled at last, Manon was tucked against his side, head resting over his heart, its steady beat a soothing lullaby. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was Dorian pressing a kiss to her forehead.

And that night, no nightmares of the past haunted her. Instead, she dreamt of the future, of clear skies with wyverns flying over head, of lazy mornings spent in bed, of being woken up by a pair of small feet running down the hall and wide, blue eyes and a mess of white curls looking up at her.

Manon would claw her way to that future if she had to.

Because they would win this war, they had to, and then she would finally allow herself to live.

A/N:

my will to live currently depends on us getting a glimpse of the throne of glass gang, especially manorian, in cc3:) we will get a book about them one day!! stay clowning fellow manorians<3<3

anyway, i rarely have the time to write anymore, because uni means you actually have to do schoolwork:( i should study for my chemistry exam rn, but i wanted to procrastinate, so i wrote fanfiction instead, you're welcome:):)

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @celestialams @darklingswhxore@onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams@rowaelinismyotp@rainbowcheetah512@zoyalovesbooks @wishfulimaginings @dreamlandreader

I keep a separate taglist for each ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

#manorian #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #sarah j maas #manorian fic #manorian angst #manorian fanfiction

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benjinoff13 · 1 year

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A few days ago I was in the car with my mom and a friend who also loves warrior nun, my friend and I were talking about kty and how awesome it is that she’s doing all those interviews to promote the show while netflix won’t spend a single cent on promotion

We also talked about alba and how we admire her passion and commitment to the show and the fans despite her being less vocal about it than some of the other cast members considering what she’s been facing in her private life

My mom heard a lot of things she didn’t understand so we started to explain the situation to her, we explained that shows (on netflix) that have minorities in the lead role often don’t even get a chance to develop nicely despite their obvious succes and that this is primarily the case with queer female characters and sapphic couples (mind you I’m not out to my mom but I think she knows, we don’t talk about this subject a lot but I needed her to understand)

Then we started discussing whether we thought a renewal was realistic, I told my friend I was carefully optimistic, I knew netflix’s trackrecord with shows like this but I also knew how succesful season 2 was, I considered the 99% and 100% on rotten tomatoes, I considered the amount of weeks it spend in the top 10, I considered the fact that even season 1 reached the top 10 again because so many people started watching it and I thought there was no way in hell netflix could actually be so stupid and cruel to cancel this show

Then I read simon’s tweet last night and I know it sounds dramatic but I actually felt my heart break, I was watching tv with my dad and went upstairs without saying a word, I sat in the dark in my room alone for what felt like hours, I cried, I punched my wall (still hurts like a bitch), I texted my only friend who could possibly understand what I was feeling and then I stayed up for most of the night not being able to fall asleep

This morning I woke up and immediately felt nauseous because of the cancellation again, after hours I went downstairs grabbed my coffee and told my mom what happened, I said

“Remember when we were in the car a few days ago and we talked about that netflix show I love and how shows with minorities in the lead role don’t often get a fair chance”

She said yes and so I told her about the cancellation, I told her it’s the best rated netflix show ever on rotten tomatoes, higher than the crown, higher than stranger things, and that the reviews and viewing numbers were unexpectedly high and she responded by asking why netflix would cancel this show because I told her netflix only cares about money and warrior nun seems profitable, I explained to her that there’s two women who are in love with each other and one of them is the main character, last season this wasn’t the case and then we got a season 2, now their love for each other is confirmed and netflix cancelled the show even though season 2 was way more popular and successful than season 1, to which she responded the following

“It sounds like discrimination to me, it’s almost like there’s someone at the top at netflix who wants to stop all these shows because they don’t want to make stories about gay people”

This is my CATHOLIC mother, my mother who really doesn’t understand queerness, who sometimes still says things about being queer that piss me off so much I consider packing my bags but she understands this

This is obvious to her

It’s obvious to fucking everybody

If you don’t see the problem you’re either in denial or just plain stupid

I am pissed beyond belief, I will never ever forget this

#warrior nun #I know this is long and I won’t blame you if you scroll passed it without reading #I didn’t post this for the notes I just meeded to get it out

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redheadspark · 2 years

Note

Heyyy How are you? It's been a while, sorry

:( I wasn't feeling so nice but I'm getting better.

About the Prompt Fall part 2, I miss Azriel!

Dear Author could I please request Azriel x female reader, for numbers 17 and 24?

Thank you so much

Sending virtual Hug!🤍❤️

Omg I just want a crush to cuddling like this:

A/N: Hello darling! I'm sorry you weren't feeling yourself, but I'm glad you're feeling better!! I'll write a sweet Azriel oneshot just for you ;)

Hold Me Close

Summary: Azriel never told anyone apart from his mate, but he was a massive cuddler.

Warnings: Fluffy

"Are we going to move from this spot anytime soon?"

"Mmmmmm...nope,"

"That's what I figured."

You nuzzled into your mate some more, breathing in his scent that was a mixture of citrus and a hint of pine along with some of his sweat from his training session at the House of Wind. You could of sworn he was going to keel over when he flew to your little home in Velaris, looking beyond exhausted and was about to collapse on your doorstep. You just tutted, bringing him inside to hold him close on your massive couch in the sitting area. it overlooked the cobbled street in the front of the house, which didn't get a lot of foot traffic but was safe and quiet. The only thing heard outside was the rustling trees from the wind that came from the towering mountains and the leaves falling onto the cobbled ground.

Autumn had come to Velaris.

You never minded it, it was rather nice to have a change of pace in the bustling city of Velaris within the Night Court. Many people were dressed in sweaters and coats, the swirling leaves made it inviting for children to jump into, and new sweet scents of treats slipping through the cracked windows of the food stalls. It was all inviting, a season of change for certain.

Azriel never minded the cold too much, he would prefer to be with his mate under the covers in your massive bed or on your couch in front of a roaring fire. he was more prone to having moments of peace and quiet after working the new Illyrian soldiers to the bone or being the Spymaster for Rhysand and Feyre. He didn't mind the work at all, anything that would help Velaris and Night Court thrive was all Azriel wanted as a member of the Inner Circle.

But with you? He didn't have to think about it too much.

You had your own duties in the Inner Circle as Mor's right hand. She kept you busy and occupied throughout the day, and you didn't mind working with her since Mor was one of your closest friends. She was one of the first ones to catch onto you and Azriel being mates, highly endorsing the pair of you together.

So it was no brainer she was your maid of honor in your wedding.

On this particular afternoon, Azriel was having your wrapped in his arms. The first layer of curtains were drawn in the sitting room, giving you the right amount of privacy to let the both of you be bare on the couch with only a quilt covering the pair of you. Sprawled on your stomach and half laying on your mate, your mind was slowing drifting and your fingers were dancing along his arms and shoulders to soothe him and let his day melt away. You both were still in your "honeymoon" phase, which seemed rather silly since it's been almost a year since you two were married. But either of you cared or wished to cool down your love and affection for one another.

It never got in the way of your jobs with the Inner Circle and for the High Lord and High Lady. While you worked, you remained poised and professional. Azriel was always cool and calm when he was on his Spymaster patrol with other Courts, and you were the same with your delegation work with Mor. But when it was just the pair of you...all bets were off.

And neither of you cared.

"Come closer, I'm cold!" You heard Azriel say next to you as he was breathing in your hair and wrapping his arms around your bare back. You grinned against his neck as you huffed closer, feeling the body warmth between the pair of rise. Azriel sighed in relief, "Much better. You're like my now personal heater,"

"That's so romantic," You joked, Azriel pinching your side to make you squeal. He laughed, the mood lightening a bit as you both were simply laying together in piece and with the cool sun about to set over the bustling city. You watched the leaves fall, the dancing reds and oranges giving the beautiful image of a painting.

"Never thought we would end up on the couch," You mused, Azriel tracing his fingers along the spine of your back, "This is a first for us, on the couch of our sitting room,"

"I've always wanted to try it," Azriel admitted, sounding so modest as you grinned widely, "Cassian did bet that we would end up on here sooner,"

"What a dick," You snorted, then moving over to rest your arms on his upper chest to look at him lovingly as you moved some of his dark locks out of his face with your fingers, "Too bad our bed is much bigger and softer....with satin sheets to boot,"

"A wonderful wedding present from our High Lady no doubt," Azriel said in agreement, searching your eyes with his hazel ones and giving you his soft smile. You shivered a bit, Azriel moving the quilt up a bit along your back to be perched over your shoulders to keep the chill away. Right after he was done with placing the quilt over you, he simply stared at you and drank in the image in front of him. His mate, bare and blissfully happy, wrapped in his arms with a sense of love and peace floating in the room. With the rosy cheeks along your skin, your hair askew and down your back from being in a braid all day long, and some small kissed marks along your neck and collarbone.

You looked beyond radiant to him.

"What is it?" You asked, leaning up a bit to touch your nose with his. He merely shook his head, nuzzling your noses together and staring into your eyes deeply as he reached up to trace your jawline with his scarred fingers, but in a delicate fashion.

"Nothing at all, my darling mate," he replied in a hum, sounding so calm himself, "I'm at peace with you here, it's all I need,"

You beamed, hearing that from his mate made your heart soar. Azriel was always one think of others before himself, to place himself last for any need. You loved that about him, but you wished to have him care of himself more. To have that sense that all was well for him, nothing to worry about or to look out for. Seeing him there, wings out and pliant as a sign of vulnerability and comfort, tussled hair and loose limbs, and his face ever showing love and contentment, it was more than enough for you.

You kissed him soundly, feeling him pull you closer as the quilt was falling down your back again as his fingers started to wander....

The End.

Fall Prompt Round 2

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winchesterszvonecek · 10 months

Text

Play Pretend - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ] PT.4 18+

Summary: You ask Otis to attend your family reunion with you on one condition… that he pretends to be your boyfriend requested

Word Count: 3344

Warnings: female!reader, smut - [ oral - fem!receiving, unprotected sex ]

A/N: i never know how to end things so i hope that was okay and didn’t seem rushed or whatever lol

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

part one | part two | part three

Walking arm and arm through the gardens, you and Otis stayed quiet. Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence, not when it was a comfortable one. You both simply gazed across the vast amount of flowers that littered the garden. Listened intently to the faint trickle of the pond’s fountain as well as the croaks of frogs and the chirps of crickets.

It was a peaceful walk, one the two of you needed after a rather long night. The stars twinkled brightly above you, although they could barely be seen through the thick trees that covered your path, fallen leaves sprawled out in front of you. The walkway was lit up nicely by fairy lights, each tree used as a support as they guided your way towards the special place you wanted to show him.

You never usually took people here. It had only ever been your sanctuary. The place you went as a child when you needed to get away from everyone and everything. Even your parents stayed away, your mother surprisingly but that was mainly because she hated the place and had protested when you asked your dad if you could have one. Thankfully though, your father never could say no to you.

Pushing through an overgrown part of the path, Otis’s eyes widened at the sight before him. Your arm fell from his as he moved a little quicker towards the huge tree that sat in the middle of the garden, not to mention the enormous treehouse that rested amongst its branches.

“No way!” He breathed out in excitement, the exact reaction you’d been hoping for. “You have a treehouse?” He turned back towards you, the giddy, childlike look on his face making your heart warm as you nodded your head.

“I have a treehouse.” You chuckled, taking his hand again and pulling him towards the entrance. “Come on, let me give you the tour.” He happily allowed you to lead him towards the spiral staircase that was hidden amongst the shrubbery.

The two of you walked quickly up the stairs, Otis eager to see just what this incredible treehouse looked like on the inside as the outside was nothing compared to treehouses he’d seen before. This one looked professionally built, what with its windows and doors. Hell, it even had a balcony out the back.

“I used to come here when I was younger… When I needed a break.” You told him as you entered the main room. You watched as he glanced around at what was inside. There wasn’t much, really, a small bed sat up against the wall, there was an old couch pressed against the other with an even older TV facing it.

The walls had posters pinned up, most of which were extremely faded and sun damaged given how long they had been stuck up. There were fairy lights along each wall, giving the place a rather homely feel to it as it wasn’t too bright but wasn’t too dark either. There was even a mini fridge that still worked and was still fully stocked.

“Maria keeps the place nice for me… She knows I like to come here sometimes when I visit.” You said softly, unsure whether you felt embarrassed about bringing Otis here. But by the awestruck look on his face, it was safe to say he was nothing but jealous of your home away from home.

“This place is incredible.” He breathed out, trailing his fingers along the fairy lights that clattered softly together. “I always wanted a treehouse but our garden was never big enough… And we didn’t have a tree either so that might have made it a little difficult.” He added humorously, making you laugh a little, the one that always made his stomach flutter.

“That’s not all… Out here.” You gestured to the second set of doors, your subtlety sparking excitement inside Otis once again as he followed you towards said doors. You grabbed both handles, pulling them open and inhaling the fresh air that puffed towards you.

The two of you stepped out, Otis a little behind you as he gazed out at the incredible view before him. The lake behind the house glistened beautifully in the moonlight, the stars twinkling brightly above the water, which rippled in the gentle breeze.

“I’ll never get tired of that view.” You whispered, breathing deeply as you pulled your hair out of its updo, letting it fall across your back as you leaned your elbows against the balcony railing.

“It’s a gorgeous view.” Otis replied in an equal whisper, only you didn’t get a chance to see that he was no longer looking at the lake. Instead he was looking directly at you, wondering if you felt the same pull towards him of which he felt towards you.

He didn’t know what it was, whether it was the romantic view or what had happened earlier that made him feel so much more drawn to you right now than he’d ever felt. But he was. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you and before he knew it, he was once again standing behind you. So close to you that when you straightened, your back pressed lightly against his chest.

“Brian?” You whispered, a gentle and almost inaudible gasp leaving your lips as you felt his breath against your skin.

“Yeah?” He replied, the warmth of his voice travelling all the way between your legs as your desperation for him grew more fierce than you’d ever felt before.

“Earlier… When we were getting ready… What would you have done if Gerald hadn’t interrupted us?” You asked, feeling a small touch of nerves in your stomach amongst that which you felt lower down in your abdomen. You sensed him hesitate, clearly wondering if he should just tell you what he would have done, or whether you’d want him to show you. “Show me.”

Your words seemed to jumpstart what would soon become the most magical night for both of you. You could feel his fingers brush against your skin as he moved your hair out of the way, trailing his lips along your shoulder before planting them firmly on the nape of your neck.

The shiver in which the touch of his lips sent down your spine was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you stepped further back against him, bringing your arm up to thread your fingers through his curls as he continued to place sweet, yet fiery kisses along your neckline. His other hand slipped around your waist, holding you tightly against him as his kisses travelled up your neck and he placed one last one just beneath your ear before he whispered.

“Something like that.”

Your body shuddered as the words left his lips, the ones you’d been so desperate to feel on you that you never quite imagined just how they might make you feel. Otis was quick to plant them upon you again, this time working his way down one side of your neck, along the back of it and up the other, once again placing a heated kiss below your ear before whispering.

“Then maybe something like that.”

You practically melted beneath him, his hold on your waist the only thing keeping you upright and he knew it. He could sense what he was doing to you and if he’d known just how much of a reaction he’d get from showing you just how much he wanted you, then he’d have done it a hell of a lot sooner.

“Why aren’t we a couple?” You whispered, glancing to your side as your fingers remained threaded through his hair, as though keeping him from moving away. Not that he would. At this point he’d never move from you.

“I don’t know…” He breathed out, shaking his head as he trailed his knuckles down your spine, the way you gasped at his touch sparking that flame inside him. “All I know is that I want you.”

Your hand fell from his hair and for a second he thought you were going to walk away. But you didn’t. You simply turned to face him properly. And once you did, your fingers went right back to nest amongst his dark curls as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his.

“Then have me.” The second the words left your lips, you felt his press firmly against them. His tongue trailed across your lips, asking for permission to cross before you parted them, allowing it to delve deep into your mouth, exploring every single part it could reach.

He kissed you like a drowning man, one who’d been without oxygen for so long he’d forgotten how to breathe. He could taste the champagne that lingered against your tongue and the way his teeth sank gently into your bottom lip had you moan softly into his mouth, one in which he was more than happy to swallow down as it meant you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” He said breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear as your foreheads came to rest upon one another’s.

“I could hazard a guess and say… Probably the same length of time I have.” You whispered, planting your lips against his again as you were already desperate to feel him for a second time. Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, making him groan in a way that had it rattle up his chest and escape into your mouth.

You pushed him gently backwards, moving with him as your lips never once parted. Your hand left his hair, joining your other one which was currently travelling up his arm, slinking slowly under his suit jacket which you quickly forced from his shoulders. His hands left your body for a second, allowing the material to fall to the ground before they were back on you again, fumbling blindly for the zip on the back of your dress as you undid his bowtie.

You parted from him, turning quickly as you swept your hair aside. He had been the one to zip you up after all, so it was only right that he be the one to unzip you as well. The second his knuckles began to brush over your skin, as he slowly lowered the zip, a wave of goosebumps spread out across your body, one’s so fierce and so prominent that you were sure he’d be able to see them.

“Fuck.” You gasped as his lips connected with your skin, his tongue trailing along the bumps of your spine as it worked all the way up the length of your back. His hands followed along as they grazed over your waist, his fingers curling gently around the opening of your dress before he pulled it apart enough that you could slide your arms out.

Otis turned you around, wanting to see just what was under your dress as he pulled it all the way down. Only, just as his hands gripped the soft material again, you stopped him.

“Wait…” You whispered, your hands leaving his to quickly unclasp your bra and pull it off before Otis could lower your dress. You figured he’d much rather see what was under your bra first, rather than have to face another article of clothing before he could get his mouth on you again. “Now you can go.”

Otis nodded, sucking in a breath as he could already feel the softness of your breasts against his knuckles as his fingers wrapped tightly around your dress again. He always thought you were hot. Could never seem to take his eyes off you actually, as he dreamt of being able to touch you. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening, that he’d be getting to see just what he’d imagined for so long in real life.

Before he went any further, he led you slowly towards the bed, the back of your legs hitting against it as you fell down onto it, Otis’s knee parting your legs a little so he could settle between them. He slid your dress slowly down, swearing under his breath when your breasts were revealed.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He groaned softly, his mouth instantly cupping one of your already hardened nipples, teeth grazing lightly across it before his tongue flicked against it. His hand gave the other nipple just as much attention before he switched round, thoroughly enjoying the soft moans that left your lips.

He worked his way back up your chest and neck, kissing you with enough heat that the entirety of firehouse fifty-one would struggle to put it out. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the hardness of his pecs beneath the soft material and you were anything but considerate when you ripped open the shirt, a few of the buttons popping off and scattering across the floor.

Otis fumbled to remove the material, eager to feel your skin against his as he kissed you. He leaned down, moaning softly into your mouth as he felt the slight wetness he’d left on your breasts from his mouth press against his chest. Your leg hooked behind his, your hips bucking a little in attempts to feel some kind of friction against the raving heat between them.

Your need to feel him was easily noticed by Otis as his hands gripped the dress that covered the remainder of your body and you lifted your hips, allowing him to slide it off you completely and throw it to the floor. He came to rest on his knees, lifting one of your legs by the ankle as he began to leave a trail of fiery kisses up your calf and along your inner thigh, feeling the heat radiate from your pussy as he got closer.

He remembered just how much you’d been affected by what your family said about your body, which is why he’d be making damn sure he not only told you just how perfect you really are, but that he showed you.

You hummed softly as you felt his fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties, pulling it down so incredibly slow that you knew he was teasing you. You knew he enjoyed seeing you so desperate for him and while it turned you on, both of you knew that patience was not one of your virtues.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to start without you.” You teased, feeling as he pulled your panties down the remainder of your legs in one quick motion, tossing the now soaked material aside as he pushed you further apart.

“As hot as it would be to see that…” He whispered, planting a firm kiss directly on your clit, the brush of his facial hair causing a moan to force itself up your throat and out into the air. “I’d much prefer to do it myself.”

The next flick of his tongue against that throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs had you almost come apart beneath him. Your back began to arch off the bed as his arm slid across your stomach, holding you down as he devoured you like the hungriest of men, like he was afraid that you’d be taken away from him at any second.

His name escaped your lips as a moan, the pure pleasure ridden tone to it one that he very much liked as his fingers dipped deeper into the flesh of your thighs. You could feel the slight smile in which he’d been unable to stop from crossing his lips, and the way it had his facial hair brush against you again was almost enough for you to fall right over the edge.

“Brian please… I want you… Need you.” You panted, threading your fingers through his hair and gently tugging it. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer with his tongue between your legs and while you usually wouldn’t mind coming once or twice during sex, this time you wanted to feel your first orgasm with him buried deeply inside you.

Otis rose to his feet, a slight shimmer to his moustache from your arousal as he leaned over you, kissing you hard enough that you felt his teeth knock against yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue which had you hum softly into his mouth as your hands worked down his chest, undoing his belt with such haste that your finger almost got caught in the buckle.

He made fast work of stepping out of his pants once you’d unbuttoned them for him and the second he got close enough to you again, your hand delved deep beneath his boxers, feeling just how hard he was for you beneath them.

The first touch of you against his cock had him groan into your mouth, his hips twitching forward as he almost fell on top of you. If this is how he was with just your hand wrapped around him, then who knows how he’d be able to survive when it was your pussy.

“I bet you’re gonna feel ever better than you taste.” He whispered against your lips, making you bite down hard on your bottom one as your hand pushed down his boxers, freeing his cock that you couldn’t wait to feel inside you.

“I guess you better hurry up and fuck me so you can see if you’re right.” You said playfully, watching the subtle hint of darkness creep over his eyes as he pushed your legs even further apart, settling himself beneath them and gently brushing the tip of his cock over your entrance.

He leaned down toward you, taking your lips in his as he slowly started to sink into you, feeling your grip on his shoulders tighten with every inch deeper he delved into you. He lifted your thigh, keeping a firm hold of it, allowing it to press against him as he tilted downwards a little so that he could fill you up completely.

“God, you feel so good. Guess I was right.” He whispered against your lips, watching the way your eyes began to roll back into your head as he began to buck his hips slowly, moving in deep, zealous strokes.

Each one of them hit that sweet spot deep inside you, igniting that fire within as you could already feel the pressure inside you building, desperate to release over him. Your back arched beneath him, your body fitting perfectly against his own as he held you close, keeping that slow, steady paced rhythm before you begged him to go faster.

He could already feel you closing in around him, the way you moaned beneath him, your body practically thriving with pleasure told him you were close. You were so very close and with one more thrust against your sweet spot, you clenched around his cock, breaking free from his lips to allow his name to pass over them as the mere pleasure that washed over you had you seeing more stars than that which littered the sky above you.

“That’s it, baby.” He whispered as he placed sloppy kisses against your neck, riding you through what was probably the best orgasm you’d ever had. He wasn’t far behind you and by the time you’d regained some sense of clarity, you felt the warmth of his release inside you as he moaned your name deeply into the nape of your neck.

“I love you.” You whispered into his ear as he reached his end, his movements becoming slow and sloppy before he finally stopped, his head lifting from your neck to look you in the eyes.

His hand left your thigh, offering you a touch of relief as it fell against the soft mattress beneath you, and he gently brushed the hair which had stuck to your face out of the way. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips before he whispered.

“I love you too.”

The End

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