#and i’m sure it’s been made before but shhhhh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewhumpcaretaker · 4 months ago

Note

ok ok ok your sub! john drabbles actually gave me the best idea. tattoo artist x john wick

tattoo artist reader is there to comfort him and make sure he’s okay and doesn’t pass out esp if it’s his first tattoo.

also writing this made me remember a fic i read that’s not finished but breaks my heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060659/chapters/50100092 if you want to read 🖤

Thank you so much for this ask!! I've been thinking about this idea for a while actually. There was another ask about this a long time ago, maybe on my JohnWickCaretaker blog? I can't find that one, but if that was also you, then thanks a second time. Also, yaaaaay, fic recommendation! 🖤

John Wick x Tattoo Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Author's Note: John is a little younger in this one (I’m picturing him being 18-19), so he’s not as mature. He’s even more shy and gets defensive more easily. Also, I'm not a tattoo artist, and haven't gotten any tattoos, so this is just based on what I've read about it!

CW: forced to get a tattoo, tattoo needle, crying, reader swears frequently, bittersweet ending

Image sources: 1 2 3

“You have time for a walk-in?”

You didn’t even hear this guy open the door. Once you’re done being startled, you notice…him. You’re not supposed to let yourself think this way about clients, but shit, he’s cute. He looks soft. Mostly clean shaven, with a thin, elegant face (maybe it’s the high cheekbones), topped off with a mop of dark hair. And probably inexperienced, based on how nervous he looks. A little part of you wonders how this is going to go for him. “You’re in luck. What’s your name?”

No answer.

“Can I see an ID?”

He hesitates awkwardly. “I’m coming from Mrs. Petrov.”

Oh. So he’s one of these. You doubt that’s her real name, but Mrs. Petrov sailed into your shop one day offering to double the usual price if you’d keep quiet and ask no questions, and you sure need the money. Your skin is crawling a bit but you take a deep breath and get into it.

“Okay, good enough for me. What design are we looking at?”

He hands you a paper. It’s the same one you’ve seen half a dozen times: hands touching in prayer over an image of the cross. Guys come to you for this tat again and again, “from Mrs. Petrov.” One told you it was a mark of his acting troupe, another said it was a family crest, another a symbol of his church. They’re probably all lying, but you know better than to call them on it – or to turn any of them away. You’re pretty sure it’s a mob thing. It breaks your heart a little bit to think he’s caught up in all that. He doesn’t look the part. But then, you also know better than to judge by looks alone.

You gesture to the chair. “Settle in, face down. It’s better if we have your shirt off.” He’s way too delicious underneath it. The perfect canvas...shhhhh stop it. You’re a professional and he’s…god knows what. “This will take about four or five hours. Is that okay?”

He nods.

“Silent type I guess?”

That gets a faint smile before he lays across the bench, chin resting on folded arms. You flip the Open sign to Closed, pull on your gloves, and start prepping tools. You turn on the radio to 80s rock, filling the silence between you - though it doesn’t feel like a stressful silence, surprisingly. Both of you know how odd this situation is and you’re both just trying to get through it. There’s a camaraderie to that.

You glance down at the design in your hand and whistle. It’s pretty big, taking up most of the center of his back, between the scapulas. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well I’ll be real with you: this is going right over the spine, so you can expect some pain. Nothing that’ll kill you, just…not super pleasant. So I’ll check in from time to time, see how you’re doing. If you need a break, we can take one.”

“I won’t.” He sounds pretty sure of that. Standing behind him, you shake your head. It’s always the ones that are so sure…

“Well, after a while, I’ll need one.” You run disinfecting wipes over the center of his back and set to work. When the needle touches down for the first time, he winces once, but he doesn’t wince again for the next ten minutes of linework. It takes you that long to realize that he’s barely breathing. “Your muscles are tense, buddy. I need you to relax for me or this will hurt more.”

“…I just…don’t want to move.” There’s something so sweet about the way he says it.

“You won’t move. You’re actually less likely to shake if you can let yourself go totally limp, like you would if you were about to fall asleep. Here, sit up for a second, take a deep breath, and stretch out.” He listens, but he’s not looking at you. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing.

“Okay. I’m relaxed.” Liar. You can still feel the knots in his muscles when you touch him again. But at least it’s a little better than before, and he’s getting impatient. “Keep going.”

Well, the customer is always right. “Alright, let’s do it.” You grab your pen and get back into place. The best you can do is try to distract him. “How did you choose this tattoo anyway?” Might as well see what story this one will make up.

“I didn’t.” That’s probably the truest answer you’ve heard so far.

“Do you…like it?” God, you hope so.

“Not really.”

“…You’re telling me I’m putting something on your body right now that you don’t want there?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “Forget it.”

That’s probably for the best anyway. You’ll get too pissed off if you keep going down this line of questioning. You take a deep breath and try for something lighter. “So what do you, uh…do for fun?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Oh, sweet. You read anything good lately?”

“Kind of. I’m reading Anna Kerenina.” He slips into a faint accent when he says it, and you have a suspicion.

“What translation?”

“Just the Russian.” He sounds a little annoyed, like you caught him out on something. You suppose you did, and it was kind of fun.

“Bilingual. That’s badass.”

“Thanks.” There’s silence again for a minute, but it feels friendlier.

“So what do you think of it?”

“It’s...fine.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, it’s kind of dry.”

“I guess, but I don’t mind that. I just don’t like Anna and Vronsky. Which is Tolstoy’s whole point, but…”

“They’re both little shits to everyone. Makes it hard to get invested.”

“Right, exactly.” He shifts his chin. “If I was married, I can’t imagine cheating.” From some people, a line like that would sound like a transparent attempt to come across as a “nice guy.” But he says it so wistfully, you know he means it.

Don’t say what you’re about to say. Don’t say it. Be professional.

…Fuck it, you’re doing this under the table anyway. “Are you dating anybody?”

“No.” It sounds so bitter that, for a second, you think you really are dealing with a nice-guy-impersonator. But then he clarifies. “My…lifestyle doesn’t allow for that.”

“Oh.” You can’t think of any way to reply that doesn’t involve the burning questions in your mind about what exactly this “lifestyle” entails. So you lapse into silence again, for much longer this time, just thinking, wondering what it’s like to be one of these young men with the cross tattoos. Are they all friends with each other? What exactly do they do? Is it difficult? How does it pay? How did they get into it?

You stop when you’re done with the linework. “Okay, that went great! We’re totally done with the outlines, which is half the battle. I’m going to take a break before we start on the shading.” You circle around in front of him to grab your water bottle, and catch a glimpse of his face as he’s straightening up.

He’s wiping off silent tears.

Your heart almost drops out of your chest. “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds hoarse and shaky. “Just hurt more than I expected.” He huffs a laugh, trying to play the whole thing off as unimportant.

“Dude, I told you we can take breaks if you need. If you’re crying from pain, you’re too tensed up. Tell me next time, alright?” Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re rubbing his shoulder. He freezes for a second, and you pull back. “Sorry, I – I didn’t mean to – “

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to that.”

“Damn, how do they treat you at Mrs. Petrov’s place?” You’re half joking, but you want to know more and more by the second. And when he just looks grave and doesn’t answer, your heart does that weird dropping thing again.

“…Let me get you a water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You’re grateful for the short walk to the mini fridge you keep in the back of the parlor. It feels so heavy in that room. You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken the deal, because whatever this is, you don’t want to be involved.

When you come back, he’s perfectly composed again, but looking at you more carefully this time, like he’s finally really seeing you. After he takes a drink of water, he hesitates for a second. “My name is Jardani.”

Warmly, “Nice to meet you.” You take the bottle back and set it on the table, within reach. “You’ll tell me if you get overwhelmed next time?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m trusting you.”

You watch him settle in and get back to work. It’s okay at first but there’s a dark shadow under those praying hands that needs to go right over his spine. It’s basically pure black. A couple minutes into it, he exhales sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for a while. “Stop.”

You set your pen down right away. “You got it.” You pull up a chair next to him and he turns to look at you, without sitting up. He’s really pale. “How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded.”

“Yeah, you can pass out if you get tense like that for too long. But you’re okay. We can take as long as you need.” You put your hand on his shoulder again, massaging it, and this time, he lets you. You can feel some of the tension finally seep away and the color returns to his cheeks. The dark pools of his eyes are fixed on yours, and if you aren’t careful, you feel like you could fall into them and drown. There’s something trapped in cold waters down there, pleading for rescue.

Yeah, sure. If you were being unprofessional before, now you’re being a downright sentimental fool. This guy has probably shot people.

Despite being deep and rumbling, his voice sounds so quiet that it’s almost shy. “You don’t know what this means to me, to have a…nice moment... Thank you.”

“Oh – you’re welcome. It’s nothing, really.” You’re absolutely done for. “Um, do you want to stand up and stretch before we get back at it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Your brain is fried but you manage to hold it together while the both of you get back into position. The rest of the session goes pretty smoothly, and you talk a little more here and there. At first it’s just about how he should take care of this thing when it’s finished – staying out of the sun and all that. But then he starts to ask you about yourself - what you read, how you got into tattooing, your favorite designs. Everything you say seems to interest him. You can’t quite believe it but he’s obviously developing a crush on you. Or at least getting attached in some way. You can’t blame him, if the smallest friendly touch is such a foreign concept.

It's too soon when you place the finishing touches. “Okay! You want to take a look?” You help him up, his hand resting in yours for an instant as he slides off the bench, stiff and probably aching. It sends a jolt straight to your heart, to support some fraction of his weight and to feel the way his fingers squeeze down on yours before letting go. You mourn the contact instantly, and distract yourself by adjusting the two mirrors that reflect into each other, allowing him to see his back. “What do you think?”

“It does look cool actually.” He cracks a little heart-melting smile, and you’re really relieved. He may not have wanted it, but at least he’s not devastated.

“’Course it does, it was done by the best in the business,” you joke. Though to be honest, you really are impressed with your handiwork. Doing the same tattoo so many times pays off – each one has looked more polished than the last. It’s almost a shame to see him put his shirt back on…for multiple reasons.

“Oh, uh…” He fishes something out of his pocket. A wad of hard cash – a LOT of it, as usual. “Here’s the payment.” And then he’s leaving, before you can do anything, say anything, even catch the breath you’d lost trying to comprehend everything that just happened.

“Hey, wait!” You don’t really know what you’re going to say, but then he’s facing you again and you have to say something, and it just comes out. “…Do you need help? I don’t know what’s going on, but look, I’m not an idiot. I know something’s wrong here. I don’t know who Mrs. Petrov really is and I don’t care, but if you need me to do something, like…I don’t know, call a social worker or something or help you get transport out of the city...” Your voice falters. You have no idea what he’d need and even less idea how to provide it without getting both of you killed. And what if you’ve misread the whole situation? What if you’re completely out of line?

It certainly looks that way. It’s like a switch flips in him. “No. Whatever you do, don’t fucking try anything. It’s none of your business.” It’s the coldest he’s sounded. “You won’t see me again.” The door slams behind him.

You brace a hand against the counter behind you, shaking. How could you be so stupid, honestly. This emotional roller coaster isn’t worth it. You wish you’d never seen Mrs. Petrov, let alone this Jardani with his damn pain-soaked eyes and cornered-dog behavior. There’s something awful going on, and you can’t do anything about it, you’re just making it worse. If you can get out of this deal, you have to, even if it means getting out of the city. Maybe out west - San Francisco sounds nice this time of year.

You’re just putting yourself back together and trying to decide what the hell you’re gonna do when the door flings open again and he storms back though it, stopping short right in front of you. For a second, you just stare at each other, breathing hard. Then he catches the flash of foolish happiness in your eyes at seeing him again and musters his nerves.

And he. Fucking. Kisses. You. Forcefully, with his strong hands gripping your arms and his teeth colliding with yours, pulling, desperate, rebellious, like he’s trying to tell you something he’s not allowed to say. You’re pretty sure it’s, “Thank you. For being one of the few people who cared.”

And then he’s gone again, and this time, you can feel it: he’s never coming back.

#john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick tattoo #john wick whumpee #soft john wick #tattoo whump #angst #wickblr

94 notes · View notes

garoujo · 2 years ago

Text

・✶ ｡ﾟbachira is only doing what good step-brothers do.

♱ warnings — f!reader, stepcest, stepbro!bachira, he joins you in the shower, grinding / pussyjobs that lead to more, talk of panty-stealing, he’s a little pervy ig, teasing, all characters written 18+. / note. can’t get him n this out of my head grrrr <3

your step brother bachira had always been close with you, it was something you’d just gotten used to — he was charming and touchy but that was just the sort of person he was, always by his pretty little step sisters side just incase you needed him to help you out.

you both were basically attached at the hip, always by eachothers side at every given moment — so it was rare for you both to be apart, even for a few moments because he made sure you never were. even when you finally return home for the day and let yourself strip off your clothes, climbing into the shower for some well deserved you time.

“i gotta pee! lemme in, come on—i’ll be quick!” bachira calls from the other side of the door, cheeky grin in place when he opens the door without even giving you a second to respond—he’s just your step-brother afterall, what have you got to hide?

“bachi! i’m almost done, you could’ve just waited..” you gasp as you pull round the shower curtain, but you’re not quite quick enough for his wandering eyes. he still got a good glimpse of your pretty body, beads of water decorating your skin — you’re basically fucking luring him in, the needy twitch of his cock is impossible to ignore when you’re already so close. so ready.

bachira had gotten bored of fucking his fist to you afterall, it wasn’t the same as having the real thing — even when he’d find himself in your room, pocketing pairs of your panties so he can wrap the lace around his sensitive shaft as he sinks into your mattress to stroke his cock — whimpering and whining at the feeling of being so close to you as he stuffs his face into your pillows, but it’s not enough.

he could still be closer, bachira realises as he lets his own clothes pool around his ankles — leaking cock springing up to smack against his abdomen with the sudden, sexual freedom before he’s suddenly pulling back the shower curtain to elicit a scream from you as you shield yourself. “bachi! what the fuck!”

“we’re just saving water, come on—it’s what good brothers do, kay? gotta make sure you’re extra clean sis, mhm..” he’s too convincing with the sharp look in his eyes and the good-hearted smile he gives you. but you still pout as you turn your back to him, letting him squeeze some shower gel between his palms before he’s lathering it into your body.

“i bet that feels good, yeah? just gotta get a lil closer, gotta make sure i get it all in good.. m’kay?” there’s a carnal drop in bachira’s tone as he feels your slick skin beneath his palms, letting his hands smooth sensually along your skin in a way that has you melting and pushing into his touch.

but he takes the opportunity, the drop in your guard to close the distance — just enough for his cock to graze through the hug of your thighs, the water doing wonders for the way his shaft teases along your folds until you’re jolting. “w-what..”

“shhhhh, baby. ‘ts fine! ‘m just taking care of my sister, lemme rub it in a little more.” bachira feels you stiffen slightly before his hips stutter again, pushing his cock through your folds until the first graze of the head against your clit makes you relax, whimpering at the tight kiss of his body against your spine.

“we shouldn’t bachi..” you gasp, but you let him turn your body to face the tiled walls — palms resting against the damp surface as your step-brother looms behind you, soapy hands squeezing at your hips as he angles you just right, followed by another needy hump of his cock between your thighs and cunt.

“but you’re not stopping me, baby. i think you want me~” he sings as he lets himself lean closer, pressing his chest tight against your back while his lips tease the shell of your ear. the feeling of your pussy against him is slick and warm, sinful but so fucking addictive as he begins a pace that has wet, lewd slaps echoing through the bathroom with every connection of his body with yours.

“you’re not denying it.. so lewd, having a crush on your step brother? always gimme whatever i want.”

you melt deeper into bachira with every saccharine rub of his cock through your folds, grinding against your clit just right until your toes are curling against the shower floor. you gasp his name, reaching back to tangle your fingers in your step-brothers dual toned hair before he’s reaching between your bodies to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock.

you feel him leave you momentarily with a short laugh before you feel him angle his cock through your folds again — pressing up until the head teases at your entrance and you jump when you feel him suddenly begin to sink into you with a gasp that breaks into something prettier. “bachi! w-we can’t..”

“but you’re so wet.. it’d be so mean to leave you like this and after rubbing your pussy up on me, no fair you’re too cute.” bachira hums, words catching in his throat as you push your hips back into his — letting his cock kiss deeper as your walls tremble and squeeze around him.

“i-it’s so.. so good.” you breathe as you give yourself to him, fingertips tightening in his hair while he reaches around your body to circle your clit — letting your walls greedily pull more of his cock into your cunt as he whines low at the desire he feels throb through him.

“see, knew you wanted me, baby. y-y’re such a tease, mhm.. gonna give you my cum then clean you up real good after, m’kay? like the best brothers do.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#cw stepcest #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira smut #bachira meguru x you #bachira meguru smut #bachira meguru x reader

2K notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 9 months ago

Text

Recovery - Chapter 20

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Y/N gets back home from the hospital and Em comes for a sleepover.

Tags : Fluff - SMUT (P in V, foreplay)

Y/N’s POV

The whole incident had brought you and Marshall a lot closer than you already were. You took it to heart, when he said he was missing you, when you were talking in the studio that fateful night before you were assaulted. You had been so focused on your relationship with Josh, so eager to get Marshall out of your head (or rather, your heart), that you had probably neglected your friendship a little bit. Still, he had been absolutely amazing to you while you were in the hospital, basically acting like your personal guard-dog, pillow, assistant and dream catcher. It got to a point where it was annoying for other people. Josh didn’t complain about it, he never would, but he did make a few comments about Marshall “always being around”. Talia and Jamal even joked about Marshall moving in, because he would never leave you alone. You could tell that Talia was a bit pissed off. You knew she loved him, but she also wanted to care for you. So when you got out of the hospital, they were basically bickering at each other, fighting over who would get “custody” of you. Marshall offered for you to stay at his place and hang out, while Talia seemed to strongly disagree.

You’ve been with her nonstop for five days, Em, you’re not her only friend, you know ? She said as she rolled her eyes.

I know. I’m just saying she can chill at the house if she wants, he shrugged.

We have a house too, she said. She can chill there.

Or maybe she wants to enjoy the movie room or the pool, he replied.

Or maybe she wants her room, Talia insisted.

Or maybe she wants y’all to stop fighting like divorced parents ? Jamal chimed in.

You couldn’t help but giggle. You had been cleared by the doctor and were ready to leave the hospital. You’d been ready for about an hour and couldn’t wait to get out of that dreadful place but they wouldn’t stop arguing over small details, like who would drive you home. You didn’t tell them, but on top of that, you had Josh blowing up your phone, asking when he would actually get to see you. You were actually touched by all of this attention : not everyone had this many people they could count on. As annoying as it could get - because you just wanted to leave - it was a blessing.

We could just leave them here and grab food somewhere, you suggested to Jamal.

I like that, he said as he grabbed your bag.

I want to eat too, Talia said.

Me too, Marshall added.

Look who’s suddenly on the same page, Jamal grinned. So, what do you want to eat ?

Of course, that was enough for the bickering to start again. You offered to cook dinner, but obviously, none of your friends would let you lift a finger, even though you had basically spent five days sleeping and were more energized than ever. Thankfully, everyone ended up agreeing on the food, and you managed to display some excellent diplomatic skills when it came to organizing your schedule. You sent Marshall home after dinner so that he could actually get some rest and a full night of sleep and had a movie night with your roommates. As for Josh, you made plans to see him in a few days. Initially, you wanted to invite him to dinner on the night you got home, but your friends made a valid point that it would be wiser to wait for a few days, so that your first night home would be more chill. After the movie, you and Talia went to your room to do some pampering and she could not refrain from grilling you about “Em”.

So… First night without cerberus in a while, huh ? She playfully asked.

I guess, you giggled. He wasn’t that bad, though.

Oh he definitely was, she chuckled. You should have seen him when you were asleep. He was standing there like some sort of bouncer, making sure not too many people were in the room. And then, when it got too loud, he turned into a cranky old librarian like “Shhhhh”.

She imitated him, with his serious demeanor and frown. You couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter.

It’s sweet, you said softly - you couldn’t help defending him.

He’s too much, she said. I swear, he is the most dramatic person I have ever met.

It’s part of the charm, I guess, you shrugged.

Oh, really… “Charm” ? She grinned. I thought we already had a prince charming…

You know what I mean, you said with a frown.

Actually, I don’t, she said. I mean, you’re wearing his clothes all the time, he spent five days in the hospital with you, you guys are always hanging out… I’m telling you : I wouldn’t enjoy being your boyfriend if I had to deal with Em being all over you.

I know, you sighed.

Especially when you enjoy it so much, she added.

You looked at her but said nothing. Had anyone else made that comment, you would have lied, but it was Talia, so there was no use.

I knew it !!! She almost screamed.

Yeah well, you can know it but not shout it, ok ? You said.

You like Em !!!

I do, you groaned. But believe me, it’s not fun.

Oh, boo-hoo, “my crush is all over me and it’s hard”, she giggled. Yeah, must suck to be you, Y/N. Especially when the crush in question is the wet dream of millions of people across the world. Remind me again, why are you bothering with Josh ?

You ended up explaining the whole story to her : how you had a chance with Marshall, that was ruined by the argument, how you had planned on confessing your feelings for him in NYC but didn’t because he ended up dating Nicole and how you ended up dating Josh.

Here’s the thing, you said : I love Marshall, but he doesn’t love me back. And I like Josh too, you know ? Like, actually like him. I want to give this relationship a chance, because he is so great.

I feel you, she said in a voice full of compassion. You deserve to be happy. Em is a fucking dumbass in my opinion…

He’s not. He doesn’t like me like this, it’s ok. He’s still my best friend.

Yeah, but I don’t understand, though. For someone who doesn’t like you like this, he is all over you. That doesn’t make sense, you know ? She said. Anyway, if Josh makes you happy, that’s what matters, right ?

He’s just nice, you replied. And Josh does make me happy. I can’t wait for you to meet him.

I can’t wait either, she said. But he’s no Em.

Promise me you’ll still be nice to him ?

Of course, she said.

A MONTH LATER

You had finally introduced Josh to Talia and Jamal and they seemed to like him. The four of you would go on double dates, even some triple dates with Hailie and Evan. You had lots of fun and it felt really nice to have your closest friends supporting your relationship. Talia’s birthday was coming up in a few days and she even invited him. Josh was being as amazing as ever, and you wished you could say everything was perfect but it wasn’t. You’d been together for more than three months at this point and you still hadn’t been able to seal the deal. You’d had plenty of opportunity and slept together a bunch of times but that was all it was : sleeping. Not that you didn’t want to do the deed, on the contrary, you were both up for it, but the attack had left its mark, so every time he tried to do more than kiss you or hold your hand, you ended up being triggered. He said he was fine with it but, obviously, you could tell he was a bit disappointed. At that point, you were a triggered, yet horny mess, which put you in quite a mood. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to have sex ever again. Thankfully, you also spent a lot of time with your friends, which helped you get your mind off things. You were either hanging out with Jamal and/or Talia, at the studio or with Marshall.

That night was your first night sleeping alone in a month. Ever since you got home, you were prone to nightmares. The doctors at the hospital had offered to give you some medication for anxiety and even some sleeping pills, but given your past, you refused to pick up the prescription. You’d been sober for a while now, which was great, but you still didn’t trust yourself. So your friends, being as amazing as they were, took turns having sleepovers in your room. The most frequent guests were either Talia or Josh, but sometimes, Marshall would come over too. It was the middle of the night and you were waking up from yet another nightmare and, normally, you would have someone by your side, but you had decided to try sleeping alone for the first time, since Talia and Jamal had a romantic weekend getaway planned and were spending a night in a hotel, and you weren’t too sure about wanting Josh coming over. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy his company or that he wouldn’t happily cuddle with you, but you felt like he might get his hopes up about finally having sex and you didn’t want to let him down yet again. You tried to pace yourself by using some breathing exercises, but to no avail. It was as if you could feel the attacker’s breath down your neck. Plus, it was a windy night and every noise from the outside was startling you. So much for putting on your big girl’s pants. You decided to call Marshall.

Hey honey, you heard his sleepy voice say. What’s up ?

Am I bothering you ? You asked in a little voice.

Never, he said softly. What’s up ?

I’m scared, you said on the verge of tears. I’m alone in the house and I feel like… He’s watching me or something.

Oh. Isn’t Josh sleeping over ? He asked.

Not tonight…, you said sheepishly.

Want me to come over ?

Do you mind ? You asked.

You know I don’t, he said. Movie night ?

Sure.

Great. Be there in 30, ok ?

When he arrived, he gave you the biggest hug and you put on some random, crappy movie. You were both laying on your bed, watching the movie on your computer. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and was mindlessly playing with your hair. His presence was soothing, and his hilarious comments were keeping you distracted. At some point, a steamy sex scene came on, and it made you feel a bit awkward. It didn’t help that it reminded you of all the action you were definitely not getting. Marshall picked on it right away.

Are you blushing ?! He asked with a grin.

What ? No I’m not…, you replied awkwardly.

You’re so red. You’re blushing.

Shut up, please, you whispered.

Come on, it’s a movie, he chuckled.

It’s just… It’s so awkward, you know ? I hate love scenes in movies, you said.

Oh, believe me, actors usually hate filming them, he said. More awkward to film than to watch.

Have you ever filmed one of those for a music video ? You asked.

Sort of, he said. But the worst was the scene in 8 Mile. Didn’t take long, but I definitely didn’t have much fun.

Oh right, you said. I sort of forgot that you were in a movie.

What ?! You haven’t seen my movie ?! He asked in a fake offended voice.

I haven’t, you giggled. What’s it about ?

He proceeded to describe the movie for you, explaining the plot. You thought it was absolutely crazy that you were friends with someone who had a movie based on his life. Once again, it reminded you of the big deal that he was.

Can we watch it ? You asked. That sounds like something I’d enjoy.

Sure, he chuckled. Haven't seen that in a while.

You changed the movie and put on 8 Mile. It was both weird and fun to see Marshall twenty years ago.

God, you’re hot, you said before you could catch yourself.

He looked at you with a smirk.

Why thank you, he said with a smile.

No, I meant before, you said. I mean, in the movie… Uh, you look good in that.

Better than now ? He asked with a grin.

No, you said.

So I’m even hotter now ?

Yeah. I mean no, I-I…, you began to say as you felt your cheeks burning.

Relax, I’m just fucking with you, he giggled. God, you’re blushing so hard it’s hilarious.

You focused your intention on the movie and tried to ignore him. The movie was good and you enjoyed it. Marshall definitely had great acting skills. At some point, the love scene with Brittany Murphy came on and you found yourself biting your lip. It was just a movie scene, for sure, but it was a steamy one and you were lucky enough to know that Marshall was actually good in bed (or on a couch, or in a car…). In fact, he was the best you ever had. And the last. This thought had you hot and bothered, and equally frustrated.

Like what you see ? He teasingly whispered in your ear.

God, shut up, you groaned as you blushed. His voice in your ear wasn’t helping you.

Not a chance, he giggled.

It’s not funny, Marshall…

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. It was an innocent peck, as there had been thousands before, but it definitely made matters worse. And obviously, you had no poker face, so he picked on it right away.

Don’t tell me you’re horny, he chortled.

Don’t you ever shut up ?

What ? Isn’t the lobster up to the challenge ? He grinned.

Well, I guess we’ll never know, you groaned.

He looked at you in confusion and pressed pause. His eyebrows were furrowed.

What’s wrong ? He asked.

Nothing, you said. It’s just… Nevermind. Let’s watch the movie, ok ?

You can tell me anything, honey, he said softly. What’s up with Josh ? I thought he was great.

I can’t put out, you blurted out. So, yeah, he’s great, but he’s probably going to end up leaving me and I’m going to grow my hymen back and die a virgin.

He couldn’t refrain from chuckling and you shot him a death glare.

Sorry, he said as he caught himself. It’s not what you’re saying. It’s the way you’re saying it. I feel for you, though.

You do ? You asked with a pout.

Well, I mostly feel for him, but yeah…

He’s not the one panicking every time someone tries to touch him, you groaned. But yeah, whatever, let’s feel for Josh, I guess.

No, he chuckled. What I mean is that having you as a girlfriend and not getting any action must be really hard. Pun intended.

He managed to make you chuckle. He always had the silliest jokes.

Come on, you horndog, let’s watch the end of the movie, he said as he shook his head, trying not to laugh.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him and you went back to watching the movie.

Is that alright ? He asked with a smirk. Or am I too hot for you ?

Fuck you, Marshall, you whined.

Well, yeah, you wish, he chuckled. Just kidding, I’ll stop.

Thankfully, the movie was good and you managed to focus on it. Soon after the movie ended, you fell asleep.

MARSHALL’S POV

Showing 8 Mile to Y/N was pretty interesting. Marshall got to watch her reactions and it was a fun sight, especially when it came to the sex scene. He couldn’t help but notice her blushing and biting her lip and, obviously, he wasn’t going to miss that great of an opportunity to make fun of her. He didn’t mean to be an asshole, but learning she hadn’t actually slept with Josh made his day. Not that he didn’t want her to be fulfilled - he did - but the fucker didn’t deserve her anyway. He knew he shouldn’t rejoice in another man’s sexual misery, and karma made sure to remind him. As Y/N fell asleep, he kept on tossing and turning. For one, he wasn’t really tired anymore - somehow, being woken up at 2AM fucks up your sleep schedule. Secondly, seeing her all hot and bothered had him all hot and bothered. He could make fun of her all he wanted, but he hadn’t had any action in a while either. He probably would have if he hadn’t blown it up with Nicole, though.

Y/N encouraged him to patch things up with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After realizing his feelings for Y/N were far too strong, dating Nicole seemed stupid. Years ago, he definitely would have used her to get over his feelings, but that wasn’t exactly the man he wanted to be. So he did the “right” thing to do : he sent flowers and apologized for lacking empathy being an ass, but decided not to see her anymore. Thankfully, none of his friends knew he was dating, so he didn’t have to explain his change of heart to anybody except Y/N. She didn’t understand at first but she ended up leaving him alone on the matter.

He took a look at her as he tried to fall asleep. She was really cute and the sight brought a smile to his face. She seemed to sleep peacefully - at least for now - and he hoped she wouldn’t have any nightmares. He kissed the top of her head and cuddled with her before closing his eyes. He almost went to sleep when he heard her moan. Not an unusual sound since she kept on having these awful dreams. He almost woke her up when he heard something unexpected : his name.

Marshall…, she moaned. Harder.

Was she having a dream… about him ? He was about to shake it off when she moaned again. He had absolutely no clue as to what he was supposed to do. Leave ? Wake her up ? He thought about letting her enjoy her dream but as her moans got deeper, he felt as if he was about to go crazy. To make matters worse, she was squirming. She always moved when she slept but now, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Honey, wake up, he whispered as he gently shook her arm and turned on the little lamp on the nightstand.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, flustered. She sat up and he could see her nipples poking through her tee-shirt. This woman was going to be the death of him and he knew it.

Are you alright ? She asked in a small voice.

Are you ? He asked as he couldn’t keep himself from smirking.

At that point, it was second nature to him. He had to tease her about it. Anyone would do the same if they were laying in bed with a beautiful woman having a wet dream about them, right ? She looked at him and he could tell that she knew he heard her. She said absolutely nothing, though.

So… sweet dreams ? He chuckled.

She was biting her lip, looking away. She looked incredibly hot and it took everything he had not to jump on her this minute. Plus, he didn’t want to trigger her, obviously. Not to lie, he was having a huge fucking ego boost, knowing it was him who had her in this state. Not Josh. Not anyone else. Him. As seconds went by, the silence was starting to become heavy. They were both horny, it was painfully obvious. She was looking down, obviously uncomfortable.

Look at me, he said softly, coaxing her chin in his direction.

Her beautiful eyes seemed lost in a haze. Her pupils were dilated and her chest was heaving. She seemed to be in some state.

What did you dream about ? He asked.

Y-You, she whispered in a husky voice.

I didn’t ask who, I asked what, he said softly, his hand still on her cheek. Care to describe ?

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. He chuckled softly, amazed at the effect he was having on her. He could definitely get high on this feeling. He grazed her bottom lip with his thumb. It was swollen from the biting. All he wanted was to kiss her. He brought his face slightly closer to her. They were staring into each other’s eyes. He traced her features with his fingers : her cheekbones, her jaw, the curve of her neck…

Marshall, she whispered.

Tell me to stop, he said.

But she didn’t. Instead, she brought her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. It was soft, intimate and unexpectedly sexy. Her breathing was heavy and so was his. He couldn’t resist her anymore. He captured her lips in a soft kiss. His heart was pounding. For a quarter of a second, he feared that she would push him away, slap him or run away from him. But she kissed him back. Thank God. Their kisses were delicate and soft, but they could both feel the passion brewing in each other. He gently bit her lip, causing her to moan.

Tell me about your dream, baby, he said in a husky voice. Describe it for me.

Y-You were…behind me and… I was in your arms, she said. Spooning.

Her voice was breathy and her eyes were closed. He kissed her gently and grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers.

What else ? He asked.

You were hum… kissing my neck… and biting it, she whispered.

I know how much you love neck kisses baby, he whispered in her ear. Can I kiss your neck ?

Yes, she muttered, almost pleading.

He smiled and gently got her hair out of the way before planting soft kisses on her neck, in that soft spot he knew she had. This caused her to whimper, much to his satisfaction. She ran her fingers through his hair, maintaining his head where it was. He chuckled and gently bit her neck.

Tell me more about your dream, honey, he commanded.

You were pounding in me, she said hoarsely.

Was it good ? He asked.

So good.

He kissed her neck again. He was dying to make her his, but he didn’t want to rush her. He just wanted her to enjoy the moment. He could tell she needed some release.

How about you show me how good it was, baby ? He suggested.

W-What ? She asked shyly.

Touch yourself for me, honey, he said before kissing her shoulder.

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask her to do that. But in this instant he absolutely didn’t care. He was burning for her and he could feel her desire. They were looking at each other, as if they were high. She nodded and began running her hands on her body, on top of her clothes. She was wearing a tee-shirt and shorts. She closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying the sensations. One of her hands went to her breasts, stroking and pinching her nipples, while the other rubbed her thigh. Apparently, it was enough for her breathing to accelerate. This was the sexiest thing he had thing in a while. He was so hard it was almost painful. This view was both a blessing and a curse. He needed to touch her. He gently cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch while she kept on touching herself, her hand going from her thigh to her pussy.

I want to hold you, he said softly. Can I ?

She nodded softly, her eyes still closed. He settled behind her. He took her in his arms while she rested between his legs, still busy with herself. Her head was resting on his shoulder as he traced the features of her angel face. Eventually,her hands got underneath her clothes.

You can just take them off, baby, he whispered.

Once again, she said nothing. Only sweet moans were escaping her lips. However, she seemed to agree, as she removed her tee-shirt and her shorts. She spread her legs a little and rubbed her clit, which made her whine. He kissed her temple while his fingers were gently tracing circles on her shoulder. Her moans got louder when she inserted a finger inside her pussy. He knew she was soaking wet and it was making him ever hornier. He knew how good it felt to be inside of her.

Does it feel good, baby ? He asked in her ear.

Yes, she moaned before inserting a second finger.

He spilled kisses in her neck while she fingered herself, determined to see how loud he could make her moan.

Come for me, babygirl, he whispered.

I can’t, she replied in a croaky voice.

Do you want me to help you ? He asked softly.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to him and looked at him in anticipation. She looked shy. He placed a tender kiss on her lips and stroked her cheek.

I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, baby, I promise, he said.

Ok, she whispered.

Ok what ? He asked in order to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding anything.

You can… help me.

He kissed her again. He felt so proud that she trusted him enough. All he wanted was for her to feel safe. He grabbed her hand and gently sucked her fingers, enjoying her taste. He removed his tee-shirt so that he could feel her skin against his.

Come here, he said as he put her in a spoon position. Take my hand and show me what you want, baby.

They were comfortably laying in bed, cuddling while he kissed her neck. She grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. He could feel her heart pounding. He gently pinched her nipple, causing her to moan and arch her back against him, no doubt feeling how hard he was through his sweatpants. He did it again, a bit harder, while he bit her neck. She started grinding her ass against him, still in the spoon position, driving him crazy with each one of her hip movements. He gently put his hand on her hip, stopping her.

Hold on, babygirl, he chuckled. You’re driving me crazy here. Let’s focus on you for a bit, alright ?

It was true : he wanted to focus his attention on her. She chuckled softly and grabbed his hand again. They interlaced their fingers.

Can you… touch me ? She whispered.

Anything you want, honey, he replied with a smile.

He gently cupped her sex, feeling how wet she was. His palm was against her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance.

Is this what you want, baby ? He asked in a husky voice.

Yes, she moaned. Please, Marshall.

He pressed his hand harder and inserted two fingers in her as she let out a gasp. She was squirming against him, rocking her hips in sync as he was moving his wrist. At first, his movements were slow. He wasn’t in a rush anyway. Plus, the last thing he wanted was to trigger her or hurt her.

Are you alright ? He asked carefully.

Yes, she moaned. It’s good.

He buried his face in her neck as he went a bit faster. Her moans became a lot deeper and he could tell she was about to come. He accelerated the movements of his head and she let out a small cry as he felt her walls clench on his fingers. Her whole body seemed to contract before relaxing altogether.

Oh God, she whispered.

Did you like it, honey ? He asked with a smile - already knowing the answer.

Yes, she softly giggled before burying her face in the pillow.

He gently turned her so that she could face him, so that he could see her beautiful face. She looked relaxed and happy, though still hazy.

You’re so beautiful, he said. I want to kiss you. May I ?

Instead of replying, she kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her as their tongues found each other. It was a deep, ardent kiss. Their legs were tangled together, as their arms were clutching at each other’s body.

I think… I want you, she whispered shyly.

Are you sure baby ? He asked softly. You don’t have to.

I’m sure, she whispered. Just… be gentle ?

Of course, love, he said. How do you want it ?

Spoon ? She asked with a little smile.

He chuckled. She seemed to enjoy this position. It wasn’t particularly his favorite, but he was happy to indulge. There was something about it that was soft and intimate, which he had to admit was enjoyable. He removed his sweatpants and boxers and they resumed the spooning position. He slowly positioned himself at her entrance and he felt her tense up.

Are you sure, honey ? I swear we don’t have to…

Yes, she said hoarsely. I want you. And I trust you.

He kissed her temple and entered her. She let out a groan and he froze for a second. However, she relaxed and he took it as his cue to start moving. He was thrusting slowly while peppering her face with soft kisses, holding her in his arms. He started to gently explore her body with his hands, making sure she was ok with every move. He teased her nipples with one hand and stroked her clit with the other.

Faster, she begged. I’m… so close…

He happily obliged and started to thrust faster, going deeper as well. He felt her clench around him again, slightly jerking as they both reached climax. He buried his face in her neck while they were both panting, gasping for air. He grabbed her hand and held her close to his body.

Are you alright ? He asked after a few minutes.

Yes, she said softly. Are you ?

Absolutely, he said.

She turned to face him. She had such a pretty face and reaching orgasm definitely gave her a nice glow. He chuckled as he cupped her face with his hand.

God, I’m so in love with you, he said.

He didn’t even think twice before saying it. It felt natural to him. Before he could catch himself, he saw the soft smile of Y/N turn into an expression of shock.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

124 notes · View notes

icequeenbae · 1 year ago

Text

Giving Love a Shot (m) | BBH

Previous: Snapshot (m) [pt.1], Shot Through the Heart (m) [pt.2]

Pairing: photographer!Baekhyun x idol!Reader

Photographer AU, Established Relationship, PWP, fluff, smut (the usual)

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, Baek is the god of oral™

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You and Baekhyun have been trying out the whole ‘dating thing’ for a few months now. He comes to visit you in Japan during your schedule and things take an unexpected turn.

Author’s note: Hey hey, your authornim is back!! Thanks to @hwasdollie who took on and completed her beta duties so swiftly, I am able to post this during my birthday month!! I might be able to post smth else for a different fandom before the end of June as well but shhhhh Anyways, since a few people approached me asking for the continuation of the photographer!Baek story, I decided it's time to get my act together and post it! I hope you like it!! And please don't stay silent, you know I love to chat 💕💕💕

Network Tags: @kvanity-main @exo-writers-net @bbh-net @superm-net

‘Goodnight, Miss.’

You bowed to the hotel staff in a polite manner, looking perfectly put together. They only saw your eyes anyway, with your habit of wearing a mask at all times. Especially now that you had all your makeup removed after the full day of interviews. As your skin got pretty sensitive, you didn’t like to walk around bare-faced where people could see. Or worse, take pictures.

Had anyone asked, you would say that you contained your excitement reasonably well. Considering how giddy you actually felt, knowing that your boyfriend was coming to visit tonight. Actually, you were so impatient that you texted him from the elevator.

‘I’m almost in my room. Where are you now?’

Baekhyun was actually supposed to be there before you, so you arranged a spare key to wait for him at the reception desk downstairs. Of course, you made sure that it was discreet. You left it in a sealed envelope stuffed with blank paper to be passed onto him as soon as he arrived. He didn’t text you back in the last thirty minutes, so you assumed he was probably still on his way.

Swinging the door open, you walked inside and instantly removed your shoes. Your legs were killing you after wearing high heels all day. Checking your phone again, you confirmed that no answer came through and decided to make a quick run for the bathroom.

Incredibly short – in your personal opinion – fifteen minutes later, you were all done. But there was still no response from your highly anticipated guest.

‘Where is he, dammit?’ You muttered under your breath, walking into the room to get fresh clothes.

But as soon as you turned the lights on…

‘Oh my g-’ You covered your mouth to silence yourself.

There, on the armchair, was a neat pile of clothes. Male clothes. Meanwhile, said male was… in your bed. Sleeping like a baby.

There he was, your unreachable boyfriend. Resting up well, instead of giving you a warm welcome as soon as you walked in.

As your heart rate returned to normal, you rolled your eyes. If he wasn’t making an effort to stay awake, you were going to change into comfy panties and a crop top, as sexy lingerie obviously wasn’t on the menu for tonight, and join him. Turning off the upper light, you left the wall sconces on both sides of the bed on. Just for a minute.

You crawled under the duvet, instantly embraced by the warmth generated by Baekhyun’s body.

Two assertive arms snaked their way around your body, hugging you tightly.

‘Oh- you’re awake?’ You whispered in surprise, being pulled deeper into his den.

‘M- ‘f course,’ he murmured, eyes still closed.

‘Yeah, right,’ you snorted, squeezing his bicep in mock frustration. ‘I see you grew tired of waiting for me…’

‘Not at all. Your pillows just smelled so nice. And I know you hate when I get on the bed wearing clothes.’ He said, and you nodded in agreement. ‘So, I showered and decided to surprise you.’

‘By sleeping in my bed?’

You huffed out a laugh, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes as he cracked one of them open.

‘I wasn’t supposed to be asleep.’ He began, watching you with just that one eye, like a sleepy pirate. ‘I had an entire performance planned.’

‘That so?’ You nudged.

‘Picture this: you walk in, and I’m already on the bed buck naked, holding a rock-hard dick in my hand. ‘Enjoy the ride’ banner right behind me.’

‘Oh gosh,’ you coughed. ‘I’m thankful you changed your mind.’

‘I didn’t. There was just no scotch tape. And while I was weighing the probability of you killing me in case I used bubble gum,’ he paused to catch your hand that could very well pinch him for the suggestion. ‘…I fell asleep. Just for a second. More like drowsed.’

‘Drooling all over my pillow?’ You teased, causing him to frown.

‘I only drool when I’m dreaming of eating you out, and we didn’t get to that tonight,’ he said in a tone that suggested it was obvious and you should’ve known better. ‘Drowsed for a sec, nothing more.’

You only chuckled, fingers tracing the lines of his face. His sharp jaw, his prominent cheekbones, his soft lips.

‘I missed you a lot, aegiya.’ He said out of nowhere, both eyes closed.

‘You saw me two weeks ago,’ you mumbled, becoming shy as soon as he used the pet name.

It was so strange, even after these past few months, to see him like this. How could anyone become so boyfriend-y all of a sudden? You had no idea Baekhyun even had a side like this when you decided to get into this relationship. He’d managed to surprise you in multiple ways already; him flying across the ocean just to see you was one of the examples.

‘Exactly. Don’t tell me you weren’t suffering through every single day away from me…’

His fingers traced the skin underneath your top, threatening to start tickling you, and you squirmed, pushing him away timidly.

‘Why are you so lovey-dovey out of the blue? Are you talking in your sleep?’

‘Hey, that hurts. The real question is, why aren’t you? Aren’t you happy to see your oppa?’ He kept tugging you closer as you resisted playfully.

‘Ew. I told you, I’m not calling you that.’

‘Why’s that,’ he leaned in to kiss your neck and you failed to push his face away.

‘Don’t be gross.’

‘You’re my aegi, and I’m older, so-’

‘There’s no kissing for oppas. Or anything else fun.’ You pressed, licking your lips. ‘Only for my boyfriend. Baekhyun.’

He looked at your mouth a second too long, before muttering a low.

‘I see.’

You swallowed, trapped in this demonstrative struggle.

‘I see how it is, Y/N.’ He repeated slowly, catching you off guard with a sudden tug to finally press your body to his. ‘You think you got me all soft for you, so now you can do whatever you wish, hm?’

You bit your lip, shivering in excitement. His voice sounded gentle but low. Whenever he used this tone, you knew it was time to be a good girl.

‘Please don’t scold me, Baekhyunie,’ you pouted, caressing his shoulder sheepishly.

‘You didn’t give me an answer. Are you happy to see me?’ He pulled away slightly to give you a sharp glance.

‘Of course.’

‘That’s it?’ His furrowed eyebrows made him look dissatisfied.

‘I missed you. A lot. Too.’ You mumbled, eyes wandering around his bare chest.

‘Why are you so flustered?’ He continued his questioning, not allowing you to move away from his slow offense. ‘Thinking dirty thoughts already?’

The exposed look on your face probably told him everything.

‘Aegiya,’ Baekhyun smiled, content with your reaction. ‘You’re so easy to mess with.’

‘No, I’m no-’ Your protest was interrupted by a quick kiss.

‘Yes, you are. The moment I lower my voice you turn into a cute little puddle,’ he stated with the most satisfied look on his face before nuzzling your neck. ‘You know what else turns you into a pool of hot mess?’

You whimpered, startled by the pressure of his fingers directly on your clit.

‘God, I missed you,’ he gritted, licking a stripe over your ribs and inhaling your scent.

‘Baek-’ You swallowed, latching onto his shoulder. ‘We can’t be loud here. The girls are on this floor, and what if someone-’

‘This is a five-star hotel, princess.’ He made sure to continue his descent despite your feeble protests.

‘It’s not completely sound-proof!’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.’ He smirked, hooking the fabric of your panties with his thumb to get them out of the way.

Making it quick was worse. It meant he was going to go zero to one hundred in a snap of his dainty fingers, and you were in no way ready to handle it.

During the course of your rather new relationship, he’d managed to perfect his oral technique to such an extent that you had to literally refuse him the pleasures of the mouth whenever you were outside the privacy of your homes. It was just too risky. If someone was to hear you…

He tended to make your sessions extremely noisy.

‘Just relax. I know what I’m doing,’ he hummed before poking his tongue out and dragging it slowly over your slit.

‘Oh-’ You grabbed onto the duvet, and he did it again.

Not forgetting to slurp this time.

Biting hard on your lip, you tried to keep still. But even that didn’t help when his wet tongue flicked your engorged clit. You could see him already getting into it. His heavy-lidded eyes watched you through the blond strands, and his mouth opened wide as if he attempted to swallow your entire pussy.

You panted, trying to move away, but he held you securely in place by the hips.

Baekhyun’s breath became heavier and heavier, and the sound of it only made you go mad with the thrill. His tongue flattened out and he moved his head up and down to drag it over your core.

Just as you thought that this was bearable, he did the unexpected. He sucked your clit into his mouth harshly, coating the area with so much saliva you could feel it trickle down to your entrance.

‘A-ah!’ You flexed your abs and pressed at the back of his head, chasing the contact.

Instead of slowing down as he usually did, he continued increasing the intensity. His tongue ran up and down your core with urgency before his lips closed around your most sensitive spot again, sucking harshly and then breaking out into short licks.

‘Baek, stop- I can’t-’ You sobbed mid-sentence as he shook his head lightly, adding stimulation.

At this point, his own breathing was loud and labored, as if he was the one on the receiving end of this hustle.

But, as soon as your breaths became shallow and your muscles started to clench, he ripped himself away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I just love bringing you to the edge,’ he admitted, licking his lips hungrily. ‘cause then I don’t have to spare your pussy.’

He slapped your vulva abruptly, and you yelped from the jarring sensation, sitting up.

‘Ride me, baby,’ Baekhyun said, dropping on his back as you got on top of him readily.

You wanted to get this over with. You needed him to finish what he’d started.

‘Shit.’ He cursed as soon as you brought your thighs down. ‘Go on.’

Swaying your hips, you focused on the friction against your walls. He always felt so good inside you.

‘Let me help you a little,’ he suggested, taking hold of your pelvis to aid you in your movements.

Leaning onto his chest with your palms, you went as hard as you could. And his thighs met yours, sounding a skin-to-skin slap upon every fleeting contact.

‘M-Baek,’ you whined, messing up the pace.

‘Don’t slow down,’ he demanded, fingers digging into your skin.

‘I can’t-’

He put his palm onto your back and prodded you to lean forward, gaining enough momentum to start pounding into you from below.

‘Fuck.’ He gritted, ignoring your uncontrollable moans and the lecherous noises from where your skin met his.

Baekhyun’s eyes never left your body, and he kept his tempo for as long as he could.

‘Fuck- Fuck!’ He suddenly growled, and you shrieked as you became undone.

‘B-Baekhyun,’ you cried out, held solid by his hands while his dick kept nailing you.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was quick to follow you and find his release. You whimpered as he shook briefly, letting out only a strained grunt to signify that he was finished for now.

He rolled you over to rest on top of your body, his entire weight pushing you down, and kissed you deeply. Both your and his breathing was hectic, but it didn’t hinder the interaction. Your fingers traced his prickly nape, while his tongue played with yours.

You laid like that for a bit before he scrambled off of you, finally letting you breathe properly.

‘I really did miss you.’

He smiled as you said that, and leaned in to press a playful kiss to your nose.

‘I know.’

You poked his cheek in embarrassment. He was a really affectionate boyfriend, and you loved that about him. It did make you a bit bashful though. Strangely, more so than your crazy sex marathons.

‘Thanks for flying all the way here just for me.’

‘It wasn’t just for you. I got a couple gigs here for the next few days,’ he shrugged, and then added. ‘I might’ve gotten those after I bought flight tickets, but sh-h! I can’t let it go to your head.’

‘Why not?’ You pouted, stroking his collarbone.

‘Aegiya, you already behave like a little princess, we don’t want it to get any worse, do we?’

‘Am I not your little princess?’ You narrowed your eyes at him.

‘You are,’ he sighed in defeat. ‘I guess, you win.’

‘What did I win?’ You chuckled, pecking him on the chin.

‘I don’t know. What would you like?’

The answer came with no hesitation.

‘You.’

‘That’s cute,’ he snickered. ‘You already have me.’

‘Hm. Then I don’t need anything else.’

‘Ugh. You don’t even have to call me oppa. I’m already melting like an ice-cream cone in a warm hand.’

You snorted at his words, and he gave you a long look.

‘I wonder what you pictured just now.’

‘Baekhyun!’

‘Alright, you don’t have to tell me.’ He agreed quickly, beaming at you shamelessly.

You shook your head.

‘It probably has something to do with my dick anyways.’

At this you kicked him lightly with your knee.

‘Ouch. Love hurts.’

~~~

You and Baekhyun stayed up super late (as per usual), talking about your time apart, teasing each other and bickering about pet names. So, when it was time for you to wake up and start getting ready… You decided to have some more beauty sleep.

However, after you ignored a bunch of ‘check-in’ morning messages from your members, the usual procedure was carried out – they sent one of their own to wake you up.

‘Eonni, are you up? We have to move out in an hour.’ Your maknae’s voice reached you through the layers of bedcovers and Baekhyun, who was practically wrapped around you.

Baekhyun.

Opening your eyes, you rose on the bed and rubbed your face to get ahold of reality.

‘Eo- eonni?’

The youngest of the group stood frozen in front of your bed, eyes open wide. Even with your brain barely shaken out of sleep, you realized what stunned her.

The blond man in your bed, who had his arm wrapped around you still, stirred from the noise and laid on his back, stretching out before opening his eyes. Your gaze fell on his exposed chest, and you quickly pulled the duvet up to cover the eloquent scratch you must’ve left on his pec yesterday.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked groggily, and the third person in the room finally broke out of her lethargic state.

‘S-sorry!’ She turned around and sprinted out of your room as if a demon was chasing her.

You called after her, but the click of the door locking announced that she was already gone.

‘Ah, dammit.’ You sighed, rubbing your pulsing temple.

Baekhyun’s hand squeezed your thigh to draw your attention.

‘Sorry. I overslept and one of the girls came to wake me up. Go back to sleep, I’ll deal with it.’ You caressed his cheek gently before turning away to get out of the bed.

‘What are you going to do?’

That was the question you had been asking yourself.

‘I’m not sure,’ you admitted. ‘That was our maknae, so… she’s probably told the entire group already. She is… easily excitable.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to do anything.’ He said, looking up at you.

‘Hm?’

‘Just tell them the truth. You’re not a rookie, no one’s going to kick you out of the group or whatever.’

You sighed. He was right, of course, but… You were scared. Admitting that to your group and management would make all of this official, and there’d be no turning back after that.

‘…or, you can just forget I said that. You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.’

He sounded neutral, yet somehow you knew he only made it seem like he wouldn’t be hurt in this scenario. Baekhyun truly was perfect in those few months you were together, so there was no reason for you to doubt his intentions. And you also liked him, a lot.

Maybe this morning was more of a blessing than a curse?

‘I’ll tell them. I’m tired of sneaking around anyways.’

‘Really? I found that quite exciting. Being your secret lover. Sneaking into your room through the window and all that.’

‘That never happened,’ you laughed.

‘It could’ve!’

‘Shut up,’ you pecked his smiling lips and picked up your phone.

Dozens of new messages in your group chat.

‘Y/N, if you’re not telling us who that ‘blond oppa’ in your bed was, we’re coming over to your room! We’re dying over here!!’

You read the last message out loud to Baekhyun.

‘That’s why I refuse to call you that. As soon as I introduce you to them, it’s going to be ‘Baekhyun oppa’ all the time. I like to be special.’

‘Gotcha,’ he snickered. ‘But princess, text them back before the whole intervention committee walks through that door. I’m not exactly wearing underwear.’

‘Oh crap, I better.’

Masterlist

A/N: This is it for now with our freshly domesticated bf Baek~ I hope you enjoyed it the ride so far!! Let me know in the comments/ asks and reblog if you liked it ❤️

366 notes · View notes

gaybananabread · 18 days ago

Note

Could I get ler!Toph and lee!Aang from ATLA with Day 17?

TickleTober Day 17 - Raspberries

~It’s been a hot sec since I’ve written anything ATLA-related! Toph and Aang are the best duo over and you cannot prove me wrong (if you can, shhhhh). Thank you for the request, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Aang

Ler: Toph

Summary: While the group is on a calm streak, Aang is stuck with a killer lee-mood. Toph catches on after some fumbling by Aang and, with some persuasion, makes sure he gets the tickles he deserves.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

The Gaang were having a lucky streak as of late; there had been no attacks, no close-calls during supply runs, and fresh water at every one of their campsites. They were allowed to relax amongst themselves, each enjoying the rare leisure.

Well, they were all trying to, with varying levels of success. Zuko rarely ever relaxed, Katara was almost always on edge, and Aang…

Well, he had his own problems.

On the second day of their streak, he woke up with a rather inconvenient feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t painful or sickening, but it definitely made things difficult. Especially when it didn’t go away, even after three days of trying to ignore it.

A bubbly, fuzzy feeling hummed in his chest, making him giddy and a tad jumpy. The stubborn blush on his cheeks refused to leave, no matter how much water he drank or air he’d bent to fan himself. The mood itself was nothing dangerous; it was how it affected him around others.

Aang could not handle anyone’s wiggling fingers. And, just his luck, Toph was insistent on practicing her more refined bending techniques.

The girl flexed each of her fingers deliberately, causing jagged and thin spikes of rock to jut up from the ground. It really was impressive to earthbend at such a fine scale, though he was more focused on the movement of her hands.

Why did the technique have to look so much like tickling? It was truly unfair; the butterflies in his stomach spread all the way up to his throat, turning his ears and cheeks pink. He didn’t even notice he was staring until she called him out.

“Hey, twinkle-toes! You need something, or are my hands just that pretty to ya?” A pebble hit the side of Aang’s head, startling him out of his daze. If he thought he was blushing before, it was a thousand times worse now.

“S-sorry, Toph!” Averting his gaze, Aang quickly found an interesting rock to stare at. He forgot she could sense his heartbeat; she knew something was off within a second.

“What’sa matter with you? You’re all…jumpy.” It wasn’t the right word, but it was the only one she could think of at the moment. While she couldn’t literally see him, her gaze was still intimidating; Toph was demanding a true answer.

“Uh…nothing?” Wow, his voice was so squeaky. That wasn’t even close to believable, was it?

“Seriously, Aang? Try again.”

Nope, not at all.

“...you’re gonna make fun of me.” Aang pouted, sighing as he tried to keep his voice level. He knew Toph wouldn’t be cruel, but it was still embarrassing.

“Woah, hold it. If you’ve got a problem, I promise I’ll listen. I care about you, dummy.” Toph punched his shoulder just gently enough to let him know she was there for him. Wow. He felt ridiculous and supported; it was an interesting combination.

“I…okay.” With a resigned huff, he told the truth. Well, vaguely, but still. “It’s the thing, you know?” He wiggled his fingers in emphasis, hoping she could see it with her bending.

Toph obviously could – the wording alone gave him away – but she wanted to push just a bit. “What thing?” She wasn’t being mean, as she promised – just antagonistic. “Are you doing something with your hands again? You do know I’m blind, right?”

The Avatar groaned, knowing he was gonna have to out-right say it. Jeez, why was he always the one being forced to ask?

“The…tickling thing. Mood. Thing.” He sounded very embarrassed to admit it, which made Toph’s grin soften. She knew his mood had to be pretty strong for him to act that shy.

“Alright, alright. C’mere, twinkle-toes.” The earthbender plopped down in the grass, crossed her legs, and patted her lap expectantly. No judgment, no weird questions, nothing. Man, she was a good friend…

Aang tried to suppress the already-building giggles as he laid down, a nervous grin tugging at his lips. Anticipation always got to him, especially when it came to Toph’s “assistance.”

“Okay, smiles. Try not to hit me in the face.” Pushing Aang’s arms above his head, she got to work. Slow, teasing fingers walked down his arms, going from his wrists to his armpits. Barely two seconds in, and he was already struggling to keep them up.

“T-Tohoph, thihis is- EEK! COHOHOME OHOHON!”

Toph had gone from slow teases to drilling into his pits in mere seconds, quickly driving him up the wall. Sure, he was loving it, but that drastic change had sent a tickly jolt through his whole upper body.

“I’m barely getting started, twinkle-toes. Better buckle up!” She gave him the playful warning before targeting his stomach, causing his arms to come crashing down in an instant. It was his worst spot, and she knew it.

“NAHAHAHAHA! TOHOHOPH! IHIT- IT TIHIHICKLES!” Aang started rolling around in her lap, and she let him, loving the mental sight of her wiggle-worm-ing friend. It sounded and felt so cute; she could hear his heartbeat, helping her guess what level of blush he was currently at. It was almost supernova already.

Man, he really was in a mood, wasn’t he?

“Do you want some fruit, Aang?” They both knew what she was really asking, his spike in heart rate tattling on him. His tells really were too easy to point out.

Toph let out a small hum of approval when he nodded, shoving aside his robes for the day. He was left in his shorts, the flowy fabric of his top bunched up at his shoulders.

Aang was already wiggling, fake-shoving at her head whenever she teasingly got closer. Toph’s goal wasn’t to fluster or tease him, though; her mission was to wreck the living daylights out of him. So, that’s what she did.

The second her lips buzzed against his skin, he knew he was done for. The boy shrieked, thrashing and kicking and bucking beneath her tickly torment. Not once, she noted, did he put even a fraction of real effort into pushing her head away. He really was enjoying it…

“Aww, you’re being so loud! You’re lucky nobody’s dumb enough to attack us right now; I might not even hear them coming.” Okay, now she was teasing. It was still light-hearted, but more geared towards flustering rather than amusing.

“SHUHUHU- *hic* OHOHO NOHOHO!” Aang couldn’t help but whine as he felt the hiccups begin. If he was really getting it, like he was then, little hiccups wormed their way into his diaphragm and made breathing that much harder. They also sounded completely childish, embarrassing him as the cherry on top.

“Oho yeah! Squeaky’s back!” Toph had named his hiccups “Squeaky” after the sharp, shrill noise they always produced. It was so dumb, but they both loved it.

Toph continued to blow raspberry after raspberry, making his poor stomach turn red from all the contact. The noises were utterly ridiculous, only making Aang laugh and hiccup harder.

The silly form of tickling had always been one of Aang’s weaknesses. Besides his general affinity for them, the intense sensations never failed to render him a laughing, squealing mess. Raspberries were any ler’s “Get Out of Jail Free” card for wrecking him.

His mood was definitely subsiding. He felt the constant buzzing and fuzz die down, replaced with the jolting electricity of the tickles running through his nervous system. It always amused him how he pretty much traded one embarrassing sensation for the other, but he didn’t say anything. Not that he even could, what with all that laughing.

When his hiccups became more violent and his laugh wheezy, Toph stopped her tickling in favor of patting and running a hand along his upper back. She could feel his shoulders shaking as he recovered, giggling off after effects and general giddiness.

“O-oho my…wow. Thank you, Toph.” Aang grinned sheepishly, obviously feeling a lot better after that pesky lee mood was dealt with. It had been both fun and relieving: a perfect combo.

Toph waved a hand, feigning indifference that Aang could tell was faker than Sokka’s fire nation beard. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’m always here if you need your butt handed to you again.”

That statement, no matter how juvenile, warmed his heart. Toph really was an amazing friend to him and the others. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. Knowing her, that declaration would probably get him lovingly socked one for being mushy, so he said the next best thing.

“Hey…can you show me that needle-rock thing? It looked really cool, and it’d probably be useful in fights.”

“I guess I can try. Just keep up, twinkle-toes!”

#atla tickle #lee!aang #ler!toph #ticklish!aang #augtickletober2024 #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #avatar the last airbender tickle #augtickletober #tickletober

17 notes · View notes

roryyyys · 3 months ago

Text

My Angel really is an Angel.

quick fic about Crowley and aziraphale

Crowley come to Aziraphale with a bit of a migraine luckily for him his Angel is a caring sweetheart who always knows how to take care of him.

It was an awfully quiet, rainy morning in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He was sitting by one of the many windows, reading a book, when the door swung open, and in came Crowley. He looked awful; there was no denying it. “Are you alright, Crowley?” the angel asked, clearly concerned for the demon. The demon ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, angel. I’m fine.”

Aziraphale was worried but gave a slight nod. Crowley hated lying to the angel, but he knew that if he told him the truth, Aziraphale would probably go crazy and try to make him rest, and he didn’t want to rest right now.

After a bit, the pounding headache he had got worse, and he closed his eyes behind his glasses. Aziraphale grew more and more concerned. “Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” he asked. The demon groaned and gave in. “Right, fine, angel. I have a pounding migraine. Just shhhhh.”

The demon realized how silent it had become and opened his eyes to see the white-haired male closing the blinds and turning off the lights, leaving just the dim candlelight. “Owhhh, angel, you don’t have to do that. I have sunglasses for a reason.”

The angel frowned. “But you shouldn’t have to wear those in here, especially with a headache,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice low.

Crowley was very appreciative of that and gave a small smile to the angel, taking off his glasses. He was quite tired, though, and lay down across the small loveseat in the bookshop, falling asleep. Aziraphale didn’t mind; at least the demon was getting rest.

Crowley woke up around two hours later feeling much better—a little nauseated but pretty good overall. The angel had made tea and left it next to him while he went to visit Maggie across the way. Crowley saw a bowl of crisps on the table next to him and ate a few—not many due to his nauseated state, but enough to make sure he wasn’t really hungry.

As Crowley settled back into the cushions of the loveseat, he picked up the teacup and took a tentative sip. The warm liquid was soothing, and he let out a contented sigh. The dim candlelight gave the bookshop a cozy, almost ethereal atmosphere, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt a sense of peace.

Aziraphale returned shortly, carrying a couple of books and records under his arm. He smiled warmly when he saw Crowley awake and looking somewhat better. "Feeling any better, my dear?" he asked, his voice still soft and gentle.

Crowley nodded, setting the teacup down. "Yeah, a bit. Thanks for the tea and, you know, the rest of it."

Aziraphale's smile widened. "Anything for you, Crowley. Now, would you like to hear about the new music Maggie introduced me to? She’s been experimenting with some new blends, she’s been showing me so much new music.

Crowley chuckled, the sound low and a bit raspy. "Sure, angel. Distract me with some tea talk."

Aziraphale spoke about all the new music Maggie had introduced him to and how much he liked it.

After a while, Crowley felt a little stronger, enough to sit up and join Aziraphale at the table. "You know," he said, reaching for another crisp, "you really didn't have to do all this. But I... I appreciate it."

Aziraphale looked at him, his blue eyes soft and full of concern. "Of course I did, Crowley. You’re my friend. And friends look out for each other."

Crowley gave a rare, genuine smile. "Yeah, angel. They do."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the rain tapping gently against the windows. The world outside was still gray and dreary, but inside the bookshop, it felt warm and safe.

Aziraphale stood and went to one of the shelves, carefully selecting a book before returning to the table. "I was thinking," he began, "that perhaps a good story might help take your mind off things."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh? And what story did you have in mind, angel?"

Aziraphale handed him the book, the leather cover worn from years of handling. "It's an old favorite of mine, 'The Wind in the Willows'. A comforting read, wouldn't you say?"

Crowley chuckled, the sound still a bit rough around the edges. "Comforting? You really are something else, Aziraphale. But alright, let's see what all the fuss is about."

As Aziraphale began to read aloud, his voice steady and melodic, Crowley leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the words paint vivid pictures in his mind. The tale of Mole, Rat, and their adventures along the riverbank unfolded, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Time seemed to slip away, the outside world fading into the background as they immersed themselves in the story. Crowley found himself genuinely enjoying the narrative, the simple joys and camaraderie of the characters resonating with him more than he expected. It was a reminder that even in the most mundane moments, there could be beauty and solace.

When Aziraphale paused to turn a page, Crowley opened his eyes and looked at him. "You know, angel, you have a way of making even the simplest things seem... special."

Aziraphale's cheeks flushed slightly, a soft pink hue coloring them. "Well, I suppose it's all about perspective, isn't it? Finding joy in the little things."

Crowley nodded, the headache now a distant memory. "Yeah, maybe you could be right but how could I know."

They continued reading, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The rain outside began to lighten, the persistent drumming on the windows becoming a gentle patter. Aziraphale's voice, soothing and unwavering, was the perfect antidote to Crowley's earlier turmoil.

Eventually, Aziraphale set the book down, marking their place with a delicate ribbon. "I think that's enough for today. How are you feeling now?"

Crowley stretched, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. "Better. Much better. Thanks, Aziraphale."

The angel smiled, a mixture of relief and contentment. "I'm glad. You know you can always come here if you need a place to rest or just... be."

Crowley met his gaze, the sincerity in Aziraphale's words touching him deeply. "I know, angel. And I appreciate it. More than you know."

They sat together in companionable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each shared moment. For all their differences, it was times like these that reminded Crowley just how much he valued Aziraphale's unwavering kindness and friendship.

As the rain finally ceased, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds, Crowley stood and stretched. "I should probably get going. Got things to do, people to see."

Aziraphale nodded, though there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Of course. But promise me you'll take care of yourself, Crowley."

Crowley smirked, his trademark swagger returning. "Don't I always, angel?"

Aziraphale gave him a knowing look. "Just... be careful."

With a final nod, Crowley slipped on his sunglasses and headed for the door. He paused before leaving, turning back to give Aziraphale one last smile. "Thanks, Aziraphale. For everything..I um.. I guess."

Aziraphale watched as Crowley disappeared into the brightening day, a sense of contentment settling over him. He returned to his seat, picking up the book and running a finger along its spine. Life was unpredictable, full of unexpected twists and turns, but one thing remained constant: his friendship with Crowley. And in moments like these, that was more than enough.

#good omens #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #innefable husbands #please read #please reblog #please request

20 notes · View notes

yourmanz-sodapop · 1 year ago

Text

Settling in together

Namjoon x Top! Male reader

Warnings: N/A Part 2/3

“Ok, This couch is perfect” Namjoon must’ve said that about four couches already. “Didn’t you say that about the previous couch?” you asked. “Well yes, but this one feels different than all the other ones. I’m telling you baby this is the one.” he pouts. “You’re sure this is the one baby?” “Yes, this one, let’s buy it.” he says, clapping his hands. He was excited, how could he not be? You gave him complete freedom to decorate your home. So far he had chosen the dresser and nightstand set as well as the curtains for all the rooms of the house and now the couch.

“Ok, couch set check, next up is… kitchen table.” you see him from the corner of your eye walking off towards the kitchen area, as you're talking to an employee about what you want and how fast you can get it shipped to your house.

Walking towards the area you last saw Namjoon, you find him sitting at the head of a kitchen table, his eyes narrowing on every empty seat. “What are you doing?” “shhhhh, I’m trying to see if this would match the look I’m going for.” “What look are you going for?” “Right now I’m leaning towards a minimalist vintage look. I think it suits us both, you're an old soul” letting out an amused chuckle you lay your head on top of his, “Anything will be fine, now hurry so we can go look at the paintings you want to hang up.” Say no more Namjoon was up and looking around trying to decide. You knew it would get him to hurry up.

You need the house finished by next week but it seemed he forgot every other second. You’d made plans to have his parents over to actually see your new home, and to show them with proof that you are serious about their son, before it was just your words and small things you did. They loved you, they loved you just for the fact that you loved their son, that was enough for them but still you wanted to show them that Namjoon would always have a home with you, and that you could provide for him regardless of the fact that he made a shit ton of money from being an idol. I mean you also made a lot of money, you owned a finance company, one that you just branched over to Europe and hopefully soon you’ll add another branch in Korea near where you lived. As you were walking around looking at the different pieces of art, one specific one caught your eye. It was the same one you had in your office back home in America. It brought back a lot of memories.

“When are you coming back to visit?” You couldn’t stand seeing the tears on his face through the screen. “I don’t know, there was a problem with the construction crew, I need to go to Europe to see why they put a hold on it. I’m going to be gone longer than I thought I was, I’m sorry my love.” you explained. You’d already been gone for three months, signing contracts, getting permits overseeing construction for the new branch. “You promised you’d be back before I left on tour. I leave in two weeks.” he sobbed. You know how much it hurt, you haven’t seen each other in three months and now you have to break your promise about sending him off on his tour. You didn't say anything, what could you say to make him feel better? “I have to go” he whispers, “Namjoon, wait-” he hung up. It was one of the lesser bad moments in your relationship. But it was quickly fixed, you flew out that same night and postponed your meetings to spend the remaining two weeks with Namjoon.

“Babe!” Turning your head Namjoon was looking at you worriedly. “I called your name five times, are you ok?” He was carrying 6 pieces. “I’m fine baby, is that what you’re getting?” you asked. “Yes these, did you talk to the sales clerk about buying the couches?” “Mhm” “Ok then let's go, we still need to buy kitchen utensils and groceries. I’m not ordering take-out again.” “I’ll cook.”

Getting everything you needed for your new home took longer than you expected it to. Namjoon couldn’t make up his mind on a few things like rugs so you did have to go to a few other places the next day. Thankfully Namjoon found all the things he wanted and was satisfied with the end result of your house, now all you needed to do was wait for the weekend to come.

You were both enjoying yourselves with this new dynamic of reality, a reality where you both didn’t have to fight your schedules to see each other, nor hide the fact that you were in love. His fanbase took it better than you expected it to, of course there was some negative backlash. Mostly girls being upset that they wouldn’t have a chance to woo him, rather than the fact that he was with a man. It was a bit of a shock at first but you got used to seeing your face more on social media. The boys of course were over all the time now that the place was completely furnished with everything working as it’s supposed to. Now Namjoon understands why you got a three bedroom house.

Next>

#bangtan #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bts imagines #namjoon #namjoon x male reader #male reader #namjoon x top male reader #bottom!namjoon #bottombtsxtopmalereader #bts fluff #rm x male reader #rapmonster x male reader #rapmon x male reader #Kim Namjoon x male reader

108 notes · View notes

lingering-42-long · 2 years ago

Text

Tell me, who did this to you?

Ghost x Female Reader

Requested by @fiction0bsessed hope you enjoy!

Warnings: pg-17, borderline mentioning rape, slight angst, ptsd, trauma

Note: IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE THE WARNINGS PLEASE DO NOT READ.

Summary: Robbers break into readers apartment and traumatize her, Ghost isn’t to happy about it.

It was terrible, absolutely scary. You hadn’t known fear until you came face to face with some robbers in your apartment. One of them held you a gunpoint, the others robbed the place dry. The one holding you teased that he might do awful things if You didn’t cooperate. By the time the place was ransacked one of the boys grinned and pinned you to the wall. “Such a pretty little thing too. It would be a shame to not waste this opportunity on her.” Tears pricked you eyes. “Dude cops are patrolling the area come on! Leave her.” The other grinned and forced a kiss on you before hitting you with the back of his bat…

Simon was coming to your apartment from A night drinking with the boys. He had called you once and you hadn’t picked up your phone. That was real concerning for him. You always answered the phone or texted him letting him know what was causing the hold up and even if you did not text him, you usually called him shortly after his call. You too have been dating for about a year and by now he pretty much had to figure it out. Communication was key for both of you and you both agreed on how important it was, so this behavior was out of the normal. He tried three more times but to no avail. Something in the pit of his stomach churned as he feared something happened. He had a mission now, get to your apartment as quickly as possible. Ghost prayed to whatever heavenly being was listening that you were alright.

When Ghost arrived the door was not locked, and when he entered into the establishment his eyes widened. Everything was a mess. Several electronics were missing papers were everywhere glass was broken, but were was (y/n)? “(Y/n)?!” He called out almost frantically scanning the area. Whoever did this left in a hurry. Simon walked to the back of the apartment and found her on the floor, unconscious. Without a second thought he rushed to her side, checking her pulse. It was beating which was good, he noted the bruises on her wrists and a large bump on her head. ‘Concussion’ he thought. Flashbacks of suppressed trauma from years before of his own family, made him fall back clutching his chest. ‘No! No no no no no! This couldn’t be happening’ His mind raced and the world spun around him fast. He closed his eyes to shut out the madness. Slowly, he recovered from the episode. Reaching to your face and gently stroking it he took in deep breaths. Reaching his phone he called the paramedics.

(Y/n) woke up to a lit room in an unfamiliar bed. Thinking the worst, she panicked, gasping and writhing around as soon as she felt hands on her “Love! It’s me calm down.” That voice… she knew it. Simon.

“S-Simon?” (Y/n) asked with a shaky breath

“Shhhhh it’s me, I’m here Love” The man gently turned your face to him. He was not wearing his normal mask but a plain black N95. His hoodie covered his head and the only thing was his eyes witch looked like they had seen a ghost. He scanned over (y/n) making sure she was ok and holding her hand. This was just as traumatizing for him as it was for (y/n).

His eyes looked at you, trying to reason with his crazed, over-processing head. She was ok. She was breathing. She was in his hands. (Y/n) was shaking as the horrific events of the recent past sent her into a state of shock and she cried. It killed Simon to see (y/n) so scared, so petrified, so fearful. This wasn’t her. She was the happy one, the sweet one, the one who made his cold heat flutter and his face warm up. Seeing her this weak, this vulnerable, it did something to him. “Love, tell me, who did this to you?” His voice was deep, threatening, dangerous. Ghost was about to find out who dared to harm her, and extinguish them from existence.

“I-I don’t know they were masked… one almost forced himself on me. He tried to kiss me… I was so scared” (y/n)’s body shook and held onto Ghost’s had for dear life.

“Fuck them. I’m going to gut them clean” Simon’s dark voice rumbled like a brewing storm “Please! Just stay with me… I need you.” (y/n)‘s soft, scared voice called to him. Ghost’s eyes softened as he kissed her head “Always. He told her.

(Y/n) finally got released after three days. The police asked some questions and left and Simon had taken up the liberty to have her move into his house for the time till things settled. He set up the guest room with her things that were not taken like the clothes, makeup, and jewelry they weren’t aware of.

Simon would be lying to himself if he did not believe that somehow this was not his fault. The fact that she was left alone, and this could have been stopped if he was there. The possessive, aggressive side of him was taking over, this would not happen again. He would protect her this time. He palled to think what would have happened if he was deployed or away.

(Y/n) came out of the bathroom. Her eyes were sunken from the lack of sleep, her body was rigged, she shyed away from Simon’s touch, At the hospital she woke up in cold sweat with wild eyes trying to find Ghost. Now she was in her sleepwear looking like a kicked kitten. Simon’s heart ached to see her like this. Sure he was a hypocrite, she would worry about his health every time he woke up in a fright or experience any type of PTSD moment. He said it was fine, normal, or he was used to it. He is the soldier, Simon could handle this, but his girl was not. (Y/n) was not a trained fighter like he was, nor did she have the same past trauma that so many of the men had when joining the army. She was his innocent sweet little dove, flower in the pavement of a busy sidewalk, and a warm fire on a cold rainy day. Now that dove had its wings clipped, the flower trampled on, and the fire doused with water. She needed healing, Simon new that much, ‘therapy would be good for her’ he thought.

“Umm Simon?” (Y/N) called as he looked at her.

“Yes love?” His face was uncovered but he was masking his raw anger to the people who did this to her.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“I got to go in to the Barracks but I will be back” he lied “I promise you will be very safe here.” He kissed her head lightly, feeling her bury her head into his jacket. “Ok. Please come home soon.”

“I will love, trust me.”

Simon left soon after that heading into the night to do some hunting.

Later that night Ghost came back from his excursion. There were four people marked off his kill list. He want going to tell (y/n) about this. Some things are best left quite.

He got into some shorts, he slept in, and climbed into bed next to his broken girl. She would be alright, he would see to it. Gently laying a kiss on her temple and bringing her close to his body, Simon sighed knowing you were safe with him.

#angst with a happy ending #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #do not read if you cannot handle adult dark content!#simon riley

481 notes · View notes

quotidianish · 10 months ago

Text

“Where’s Winter?” he whispered, nudging Ostrich with his elbow. She sat up and looked around with blurry confusion.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He was here a moment ago.”

Qibli twisted in a frantic circle and spotted a shadow flitting through the pear orchard. He couldn’t shout for Winter lest he alert the whole compound. Qibli groaned internally.

“Stay here,” he whispered to Ostrich. “Stay as hidden as you can. We’ll be right back.”

She nodded, strutting back into the shadows.

Qibli hurried after the Icewing prince and realized that he was aiming for the courtyard, separated from the orchard with a wall. It was enormous, surrounded with buildings and a partial bailey, blocking his view of the inside. The bricks were painted in a turquoise and amber mosaic of snakes and lizards chasing one another endlessly.

Before even seeing where Winter was headed, Qibli knew all too well what he was planning to do. The courtyard was noisy with birds and other pest-like creatures, alongside the distinct growl of a dragon.

Arrrrgh, Winter, you obsessed ninny.

He caught up as Winter was tinkering with the lock of the metal gate. It stretched up to an arch at the doorway, where the mud had begun to crumble, smelling of spoiled food, live pigs, and dates.

“Are you serious?” he said, and Winter jumped a mile, which was almost hilarious enough to make this side excursion worthwhile.

“Shhhhh!” Winter hissed.

“What are you thinking?” Qibli whispered.

“I’m thinking your horrifying grandfather will make this poor dragon into tomorrow’s buffet,” Winter whispered back. “Unless I save it.”

“Right now?” Qibli asked. “In the middle of our own precarious escape?”

“Well, I’m not planning on coming back!” Winter said, tugging on the lock again. “Hey, you’re a street thug. Can you pick this lock for me?”

“An Outclaw is not the same thing as a criminal,” Qibli protested. “Oh, fine, move over.” He studied the lock for a moment, unsheathing his kirpan and inserting it into the mechanism, wiggling it around until he heard a click.

“Now what?” he asked Winter as he nudged at the gate, careful not to open it too wide so the hinges wouldn’t creak. “We shove it in a bag and carry it off into the desert with us? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, but dragons aren’t exactly travel-sized.”

“We’ll just let it out,” Winter said, pacing past him into the moonlit quadrangle. “It’s smart enough to fend for itself after that.”

Qibli decided not to point out that it hadn’t been smart enough not to get caught in the first place.

Winter crouched beside a large chain, bound against the beige dragon’s hind leg and anchored into the ground with weights. Despite having thrashed helplessly a moment ago, this time it peered curiously down at them.

“Don’t be afraid,” Winter said softly. He looked around for the small alcohol lamp by the window they’d seen earlier, and carefully reached for its shackle. Upon bringing the flame close to the brass chains, the heat thawed through the metal like snow. They both stepped back and waited.

Slowly, the levitation-esque creature raised its head, tearing its obsidian black eyes from the two humans and towards the night sky. A plume of smoke shot through the air as it flapped its enormous wings once, then twice, then lifting itself off the ground, sending a whirlwind of sand flying into Qibli’s face, before swiftly gliding away to freedom.

#Sorry I CANNOT draw today #Wings of fire #Hwof #wings of fire au #wof au #Based off I think page 122-123 of darkness of dragons #I read a digital copy so that number might be off #wof qibli #wof ostrich #Wof winter #wof fanfic #sort of?#quotidianish #Quotidianish’S wings of fire

37 notes · View notes

mykneeshurt · 2 years ago

Text

Loose Cannon - Keegan x F!OC

That’s me in the gif 😮‍💨 there’s not enough Keegan smut. At all. First of many I’m afraid. Smut ahead. 18+ plz. Just horny thoughts of him.

For @sashadiurnal my fellow Keegan stan and @iamnotyourmusebitch who gave the idea about Reaper licking the blade. Which lives in my head rent free.

‘Reaper you’ll be pairing up with Keegan for this mission. Federation soldiers have been seen in that area, I want em gone.’ Merrick didn’t even look up from his papers before Keegan piped up. ‘She’s a loose cannon, sir. Where’s Logan?’ You giggled behind him, playing with the tip of your blade as it pushed into the pad of your finger.

‘Don’t worry Russ, I’ll look after you.’ Keegan glanced at you in the corner of his eye, his icy cold stare burnt through you. ‘You two are my best, so get it done. Dismissed.’ You jumped up, giddy with excitement. Keegan turned to look at you, ‘don’t fuck this up.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it sir.’

—

You found yourselves in an old mall, fending off the Federation left, right and centre. There were more than Merrick originally thought. Keegan offered you cover from the top of the escalators as you made your way through some abandoned shops.

You managed to sneak up behind one of the Federation who was trying to take a shot at Keegan. You drove the blade into his neck. It sliced through his skin like butter, smooth and clean. ‘Wrap it up, Reaper. Need to fall back, too many of em.’ Keegan’s voice chimed through your earpiece. Crouching behind an old counter you giggled a reply ‘aw Keegan, Im just getting warmed up.’

You circled round the counter to your next victim, taking out his knees he fell backwards. You slid over his hips straddling him, driving your blade into his carotid artery. ‘Shhhhh’ you cooed as you withdrew the blade, driving it in again, and again. ‘Reaper! Now!’ He barked through the radio.

Rolling your eyes you pulled the blade out slowly, ‘it’s been fun’ you whispered to the Federation solider beneath you.

Raising up to your feet you scanned the area, Keegan’s fire had their attention for now. You scurried back to the escalators taking two steps at a time. As you approached the top you saw a stray Federation solider taking shots at Keegan. You threw one of the blades which hit him in the back of his neck. He stumbled to the floor but not before you launched yourself at him, landing on his back. Stabbing him multiple times, to make sure.

Keegan looked down at you as you withdrew the blade and ran it along your tongue. You looked up and met his icy blue eyes, his breath hitched in his throat. Blade still resting on your tongue you smiled up at him, your tongue piercing coming into view. Biting your lip you slid the blade back into its holster.

Stifling a laugh at your shocked Sergeant you ran towards him grabbing his wrist ‘come on!’ The two of you ran through the empty aisles of the mall, the Federation hot on your tails. Bullets skimmed past you as you desperately tried to find somewhere to hide. ‘Over there!’ You pulled Keegan towards an old cleaning cupboard. ‘Get in’ you ordered.

You both fell into the cupboard, gasping for breath. Keegan pulled you close to him, wrapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing. ‘Shhhh’ he growled into your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin on your neck. Your breaths fell in sync with each other as the soldiers ran past the cupboard. Instinctively you took a step back, closing the already minute gap between you both. Your ass bucked into him, causing him to hiss through gritted teeth.

He felt you grin into his gloved hand, ‘don’t’ he warned. You rolled your hips into him, causing him to grip your face tighter. Muffled noises could be heard outside, only fuelling you further. You rolled your hips again, this time moaning into his hand. You felt his cock growing beneath you, ‘fuck’ he breathed into his mask.

As the muffled noises of the Federation all but faded into the distance Keegan spun you round, slamming you into the wall. Your back hit the surface with a dull thud. ‘Fuck are you playin at?’ He growled, his face mere inches away from yours. ‘Merely going after what I want’ you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes. ‘And I always get what I want.’

‘And what is it you want?’ His lips were dangerously close to yours. His breath skimmed the sensitive skin of your mouth.

‘You.’

As soon as the word fell from your mouth his lips were on yours. Pulling him closer by his tactical vest he groaned into your mouth. The kiss was dizzying, you swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. Obliging he inhaled your kiss, tongues fighting for dominance against one another. He weaved his hand into your hair, gripping at the root.

You pulled him closer still, your hand feverishly grasping at the back of his neck. You broke the kiss first, desperately trying to catch your breath. ‘Touch me’ you gasped. He wasted no time in popping open your trousers, slipping in a hand to feel your underwear already soaking. He moaned in disbelief against your lips, teasing you once again with the lack of contact. Pushing your underwear to the side his finger skimmed your slit. Gathering your arousal.

He brought his finger to your lips, where you eagerly sucked your juices off him. You moaned as you took his finger into your mouth, the vibrations permeating through him. As he withdrew his finger he placed his lips back on yours, the kiss was firm, hungry. He pushed his finger into you, before adding another, the palm of his hand massaging your swollen clit.

Swallowing your moans he curled his fingers, picking up the pace. Breaking the kiss you arched yourself into him, eyes closed, panting. He burning himself in your neck, whispering praises into your skin. He felt you beginning to clench, nearing your release.

‘Fuck me Keegan, please’ you panted. He smiled into your neck ‘as you wish.’ He quickly pulled out, making you feel empty. ‘Face the wall’ he ordered, his voice heavy with desire. Turning round he pulled your trousers down and kicked your ankles out as far as he could. There you were spread in front of him, your cunt glistening, all for him.

Undoing his own trousers he pumped his cock in his hand as the sight of you. He lined himself up and coated the top of his cock with your arousal. You hissed at the contact, he felt big. Slowly he pushed into you, the stretch taking you by surprise. Both of you letting out breath filled moans.

He started of slow, methodical, feeling every inch of your cunt around him. You felt so good. He’d thought about this moment too many times than he’d care to admit. ‘Yes yes yes yes’ you moaned into your hand. He gripped onto your hips steadying himself, as he picked up the pace. He watched as your ass rippled with every thrust, the sound of your wet cunt filled the cupboard.

He snaked an arm around your hip, resting his fingers on your clit. Applying just enough pressure for the pleasure to grow. You arched your back, a flurry of nonsensical phrases leaving you. ‘Fuck, good girl’ he praised ‘that’s it.’ Wrapping his hand in your plait he pulled you onto him, your back arched even further, changing the depth.

He placed his hand around your throat and jaw forcing you to look at him. You met him with a filthy grin, eyes blown out with pleasure and need. ‘Cum in me Keegan, please’ you begged. He let out a moan of disbelief, how were you real? His finger still working your clit you felt the tension rising. ‘Fuck don’t stop’ you whimpered. As the coil snapped he muffled your noises with his hand, smothering your face. The lack of oxygen only increased the intensity of your orgasm.

Coming down from your high he pushed you back against the wall, his thrusts becoming harder. ‘Goddamn’ he moaned, struggling to find breath. As he came he gripped your hips, placing his forehead on your back. He slurred words of adoration against your shirt.

Pulling out he watched as his cum fell from your abused cunt. He inserted a finger, pushing it back into you. You moaned from the overstimulation, your eyes rolling. He helped you rearrange yourself before kissing you again.

‘You can thank me later’ you winked.

‘For what?’ He asked doing up his trousers. ‘Saving your ass earlier, I’ll show you how much of a loose cannon I really am’ you smiled, before skipping out of the cupboard.

#call of duty #cod keegan #call of duty keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ #cod ghosts #Keegan x oc #Keegan x female oc

345 notes · View notes

lexsssu · 2 years ago

Text

OTP (Monkey King | Sun Wukong)

Flufftober Day 2

TAGS: Wukong/F!reader

“Pinch me, Mei. I think I’m dreaming if I’m finally seeing this and not just in my fanart.”

“Either we’re sharing the same dream, or our OTP finally came true.”

“Shhhhh! Don’t be too loud or they’ll hear us and ruin the moment!”

“...You’re the loudest one here, Tang.”

“After 3 seasons of pining, we’re finally here…I have to take pictures for my scrapbook!”

As the five plus a cat huddled together and argued behind a bush, not too far from them were the objects of their interest.

There you sat upon a blanket laid down on the grass, reading a book as the famed Monkey King himself idly snoozed with his head on your lap. His seemingly sentient tail having hooked itself around your waist as if afraid you’d suddenly disappear while he slept. The hand that wasn’t holding your book ran through the fur at the top of his head, scratching and caressing him absent-mindedly.

“They do know that we can hear them clearly, right?”

Without missing a beat, Sun Wukong slowly opened an eye before he yawned in agreement. “Let them have their fun. S’not like we’re hiding anything from them,” sitting up from his current position, the simian’s equally powerful tail that had lovingly been clutching your waist lifted you up in the air only to deposit you on his lap.

“Be sure to take a good picture and send a copy to me right after, ‘kay?”

The excited squeals of your audience only made you huff and bury your face in your lover’s strong chest, ears reddening as your friends’ jeering and squealing got louder.

#lexsssu writes #lego sun wukong #lego monkie kid #sun wukong x reader #monkey king x reader #flufftober 2022 #cross posted on ao3

300 notes · View notes

screechthemighty · 2 years ago

Text

“Screech how many God of War fics are you writing at once” SHHHHH shhh shhh don’t worry about it, shhhh.

Also I’d say “Sindri enjoyers come get y’all juice” but this is uhhhhh sad. It gets better but it’s sad right now. Please mind the content warnings. AO3 link will be in the usual reblog!

the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin: part 1/3

content warnings: depictions of OCD including anxiety spirals and cleaning as a compulsion; grief due to family loss; suicidal thoughts/attempt; major spoilers for ragnarok.

He started washing again within a week of Ragnarök.

At first, it hadn’t mattered to him if he washed or not. From the second he slammed that hammer down, nothing had mattered. Brok was gone. Nothing was going to bring him back. What did it matter if the beasties finally got him? If his forge exploded, if anyone who’d ever cared about him ended up hating him? What did it matter?

That apathy finally cracked when he went back to the house. There was dust on every surface. Someone had tried to clean up the blood, but there were still dark stains in the floor. Sindri dug out his brush and started scrubbing.

And kept scrubbing.

And scrubbing.

The stains wouldn’t come out.

The worst part was everyone crawling out of stone to apologize for his loss. As if they’d given a shit before. As if they hadn’t turned their backs on Brok when Sindri brought him back. It was a miracle he managed to avoid punching someone before he gave up on social contact. He spent his time either out in the wilderness or back at the house, entirely alone.

The others were avoiding him. Sindri noticed signs that they had stopped by–things being tidied up, items that hadn’t belonged to Brok or Sindri slowly being moved out–but they never came by when he was there.

At least they were able to give them that much.

He picked at projects that didn’t go anywhere. He scrubbed the floor. Sometimes he’d spend half the day in bed, his thoughts less thoughts and more a white out storm of pain. He scrubbed the floor until the seal came off. He was sure he could still smell the blood.

A thought took root. Maybe that blood was the last part of Brok’s soul. Maybe if he just got it cleaned, it would free that part. Then maybe Sindri could get him back, or at least set him free. He could be in the light with Faye and their ancestors, not just…gone.

Sindri scrubbed until his hands were raw.

He could still smell the blood.

The long winter began to thaw.

It felt like an insult.

There was peace in the realms, or so everyone said. The surviving Aesir were playing nice, mortals were resettling into Midgard as the Desolation corrected itself, no more Hel Walkers. Everything was righting itself.

Almost everything.

How could he enjoy any of it when it had been bought with Brok’s blood?

The memories of that day stabbed at his mind like daggers. If it wasn’t those memories, it was the thoughts. Brok’s soul is in the floor. You have to get it out. He’s lost, he’s alone, he won’t rest until you do this. He’s in the floor. You have to get him out.

It’s your fault. Make it right.

The house smelled like soap and damp wood.

As the rest of the world healed, he was inside, scrubbing.

Of course, he was at it again when someone finally came by.

“Sindri? Honey, it’s Lúnda. You all right?”

The sound of the door creaking open made Sindri grit his teeth. Damn it, he thought he’d locked that. “Go away,” he snapped. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the harsh sound of the bristles against wood. “I’m busy.”

Lúnda didn’t go away. Of course not. Sindri heard the door open wider. “I was just stopping by to…”

“Don’t step on the floors!” Sindri snapped.

“Okay, okay. Do you want me to leave my shoes at the door?”

“No, no, it’s not…” Why did his chest hurt? Why was she here?! “...I won’t be able to get him out if you grind him in more.”

“...the blood?”

“No! Brok! I have to…”

Damn it. Damn it, why had he said it aloud? Terror knotted up his guts, but he looked up anyway, finally meeting Lúnda’s eyes. She was Brok’s friend, one of the only ones he’d had. She’d have to understand, right? “I have to get him out,” Sindri repeated.

Lúnda stared at him. It wasn’t a look of understanding. Sindri knew that look well. Oh gods, that look said, he’s actually insane.

“...Sindri, Brok’s not here,” Lúnda said carefully. “You…you know that, right?”

Of course he did.

Brok was gone. Sindri knew that. He was the one who had to live with that hole. And of course he knew Brok wasn’t in the floor. It made no fucking sense. But he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, those awful thoughts would come back, that terrifying conviction that he’d given up on his brother, abandoned his brother, that it was all his fault…

“Sindri?”

“Get out.”

“Honey, we’re worried about you.”

“I said get the fuck out!”

He saw a spark of fear in Lúnda’s eyes as she backed away and shut the door. That spark bled all his anger away, replacing it with shame. Guilt. It paralyzed him to the spot. The thoughts started swarming almost instantly. Bastard. Monster. How many more people are going to hurt, huh? You blame everyone else for what happened, but you know the truth.

Sindri picked back up the brush and started scrubbing.

It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.

His elbow hit the bucket, knocking it over. The water spilled out on the floor. It was dark from all the sealant, dirt, whatever he’d scrubbed free from the wood.

Dark like blood.

Sindri stared at the stain as it grew, spreading across the floor.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

Your fault.

The beach hadn’t changed since last time.

Sindri stared out over the Lake of Souls. The light had stabilized as Fimbulwinter finally faded away. He felt like he should…hear something. Feel something. He was sure he had the day he’d come for his brother’s soul.

Today, though, there was nothing. Just the wind and the distant croaking of some creature. Not even the elves were fighting. It was quiet as the grave.

Quiet as the house and the forges without Brok there.

He’d stripped off all his armor, his gloves, his shoes. It was the closest to dirt he’d been in a while, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The pain was back–not as bad as it was on the days he couldn’t leave bed, but bad enough to send him here.

It felt inevitable, in a way.

He’s not in there, whispered his common sense.

I know. Sindri stood up and calmly dusted the sand off his pants. I’m not here for him.

That wasn’t entirely true. There was a part of him that still clung to the delusion that Brok was there. That all he had to do was jump in, swim and keep swimming until he could grab his brother’s soul and bring him home. But even if Brok wasn’t in there…

He waded into the water. Up to his knees. His waist. His chest.

He took one last breath and started swimming.

The water felt thicker this time. The remnants of all the souls that had died in Ragnarök still lingering, maybe. It sent a spark of hope flooding through him. Maybe that hope wasn’t delusional, maybe Brok was still in there, maybe, maybe, maybe…maybe if he just kept swimming.

Maybe.

He felt the hands on him as he swam, caressing his face, his arms, any exposed skin, beckoning him further downwards. He tried, he reached out, he searched desperately for that same sense of certainty that he felt the first time, the sense that had pulled him to his brother.

He tried.

But there was nothing there.

Just the darkness and a thousand grasping fingers dragging him under.

You failed him.

You failed.

It’s your -

“What are you doing here, Sin?”

Sindri sat up.

Golden sunlight flooded his vision, blinding him for a moment. When his vision finally cleared, he was…at one of his shops? The one in the foothills. It was peaceful, warm, just the rustling of wind through leaves and that voice.

“I missed you too, vinur minn, but it’s too soon for this.”

“...Faye?”

She was sitting as she always did, right on the ground, legs crossed, leaning against the counter. She looked the way she did when he’d first met her, the way she always did in his mind: wild red hair coming out of its braids, eyes bright from combat, green and gold clothing. But there was a calmness to her he didn’t remember from that day. It reminded him more of the last time they’d met. Faye the wife and mother, not Laufey the just.

Still his friend, either way.

“You’re here?” he breathed as he stepped closer.

“Of course I am. I’d never leave you.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You’ve always had a part of me. One of the best parts, I think.” She held out her hand, like she always did; he took it, because of course he would. “You’ve got a part of him, too, you know. Even if he’s not here. You need to hold onto the both of us now.”

He knew in his gut what she was really saying. It just made him hold on tighter. “I can’t,” he said, the words swallowed up in a sob. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“You do. Hey. You do.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “There is more strength in that heart than you give yourself credit for. More people who still love you. It will hurt, but you can bear it until it stops. And I will not leave you. I promise.” The sunlight practically made her glow. “I’m sorry I never said goodbye.”

“Don’t.” Sindri shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me, not for anything.” He met her eyes. They had never looked so blue. “Odin’s gone.”

“I know.”

“You won.”

“You won. Thank you.” Faye glanced away from him, up and over his head, her smile growing softer. He’d never seen her smile like that before. “Oh. Sæl elskan mín.”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry. Just breathe, all right? And tell the others that I-”

The water tasted green coming back up.

Algae, probably. Algae and who knew what else. His body rejected it all, leaving him gasping and shaking on the sand. “Breathe,” said a low, gruff voice. “Slowly.”

Kratos.

Fuck.

Sindri couldn’t look at him. Just seeing the vivid red tattoos out of the corner of his eye was bad enough. It felt like he’d been caught cleaning again, but worse. The shame, the dread, the fear, the…

“Can you hear me?”

Was he disappointed or relieved?

“Why did you pull me out?” Sindri asked.

Birdsong echoed over the lake, the normally soothing sound almost deafening. The longer Kratos didn’t reply, the more Sindri wanted to get up and jump back in, just to get away. Kratos moved carefully, going from kneeling to sitting, facing away from Sindri. “...I had a brother,” he said finally. “The gods took him from me, too. It took a long time for me to…stop blaming myself for what happened. You should have that chance.”

Of course he has a dead brother. Sindri almost wanted to laugh. That fucking god and all the fucking tragedy that surrounded him. How was he still standing? How did he do it? Because Sindri sure as shit didn’t know how to.

You do.

Her voice was still so clear. Her hand…

Sindri finally pushed himself up, resting on his knees, his hand flexing carefully. It still felt…not warm. Faintly cool, but not unpleasantly so.

Sorry. Frost giant thing.

“You do not have to speak to me,” Kratos said quietly. “I understand, you are angry. You have every right to be. But I am not leaving you here alone.”

That was what did it.

Sindri wondered if Freya had a moment like this: when all that carefully constructed hatred finally broke under the weight of reality. Sindri had been angry, so angry at Kratos and Atreus. He’d held onto that anger with both hands because it was one of the only things keeping him from snapping entirely. But he couldn’t hold onto it now. Not anymore. And as it bled away, it revealed what he’d known all along. The thing he’d been trying to fend back for weeks.

“...I killed him,” Sindri whispered. He’d dragged his brother out of that lake with a fourth of him missing. Odin, a random ogre or troll, natural death, anything could have taken Brok. It didn’t matter. It would always come to this.

And Sindri would always be the one who had dealt the first blow.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “Oh, gods, I killed him.”

The first sob felt like it ripped him in half. The pain blinded him to everything else, his entire world collapsing into itself. For what felt like an eternity, there was just him and that overwhelming pain.

Then a hand gripped his shoulder–carefully, but just tightly enough to pull the disparate parts back together. Other sensations followed. His clothes were soaking wet. The sand was really itchy against his exposed skin. His mouth still kind of tasted like lake water, which was awful. It was all fucking awful.

But the birds were still singing somewhere, too. And the sunlight still looked golden.

Sindri couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t bother trying. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t hold onto it anymore. The more he cried, the more the deep ache finally revealed itself. Not anger, not fear. Grief. A deep well of grief.

At least he could finally name it.

Kratos waited until Sindri had stopped crying before he stood. He was back seconds later with a water skin. “Do you have anything stronger?” SIndri asked hoarsely.

“Water first. You need it more.”

Fair. And the first few sips did feel pretty nice, he wouldn’t lie. Kratos sat back down again as Sindri drank carefully. He’d already thrown up once, and he really wasn’t looking to do that again. Oh, gross, I’m near the vomit. Moving away meant moving closer to Kratos, but he preferred that by a lot. “How’d you know I was here?” he asked as he passed the water skin back to Kratos.

“Lúnda said you were distressed. Talking about Brok. I thought…” Kratos stared back out over the water. “I heard her here. Both times. Your shop is not far. It seemed a logical place to start.”

Sindri thought back to what he’d seen in the lake, to the cold feeling still lingering on his hand. Those last words, barely heard but somehow…he knew. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it yet. “Lúnda’s not here, is she?” Sindri asked.

“No, she stayed at your home. The head, too.” Oh, thank goodness. Mimir sometimes had good advice, sometimes, but Mimir advice was the last thing Sindri needed. “I made sure they wouldn’t follow. You have time.”

That settled it. Kratos was officially the singular most confusing person Sindri knew. Somehow the biggest, scariest grump in the Nine Realms, and at the same time the person who’d sure Sindri had some privacy.

I guess that’s what Faye saw in him.

“How do you do it?” Sindri asked quietly. “How do you…handle it all?”

“Not as well as you’d think.” The slight, self-mocking note to Kratos’s tone almost made Sindri regret asking, but the next sentence was thoughtful: “I simply lived with it, for a long time. If you can call it living. Faye, she…”

He paused. Sindri saw him flex his hand, as if he could still feel her touch, too. “...she said once that we would always walk together. That she would always carry a part of me, and I of her. The culmination of love is grief, and yet…we still open our hearts to it. I did not understand what she meant until recently.” He looked at Sindri. “The pain…no longer feels like pain. Or it feels less so. Instead I feel her. What she taught me, what she gave me. It takes time to accept, but it is possible.”

You can bear it.

It felt like Kratos was saying the same thing.

Sindri stared out over the water. He tried to focus on the golden light, the distant bird song. “I mean,” he said finally, “Faye hasn’t been wrong yet.” The comment got a slight chuckle out of Kratos, something Sindri wasn’t expecting but was weirdly proud of. “She was right about something else. He who walks his own path walks alone.” Finally, he met Kratos’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, and…I’m sorry for what I said.”

“You were grieving. I understand. It is behind us.” There was still a softness in his eyes, despite the words. Relief, maybe? He was still so hard to read. “I do not know if you heard…”

“About Atreus or about Týr?”

“Both.”

Sindri had heard. They were some of the last pieces of gossip he’d heard before isolating himself. The Týr thing…he was trying not to think about. That was beyond the scope of what he could handle right now. The Atreus part…

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Sindri said quietly. He didn’t want to think of an alternative: that the last things he’d said to Atreus had been in anger, that they’d never been able to fix things. For everything that hurt between him and Brok, and for all the hurt Sindri felt now that he was gone, at least they’d been able to reconcile. He didn’t want things to be different with Atreus.

Kratos nodded. “He will,” he said, not even a hint of hesitation. “I know he will.”

Maybe one day, Sindri would develop Kratos’s confidence. Right now, he settled on hope. Hope that Kratos was right. Hope that Faye was right.

Hope that he wouldn’t find himself back on these shores again.

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the water and the clouds moving across the sky. Eventually, when his chest stopped hurting so much, Sindri spoke again: “I don’t know if…if I can go back to the house.”

Kratos didn’t hesitate: “There is room in my home, if you wish. I cannot promise the wolves will leave you alone, but there is always a place for you.”

Right, the wolves. The thought did make his skin itch a bit, but…

You know what? The wolves were a better alternative.

“Okay,” Sindri said. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Hmm.” Kratos stood and offered Sindri a hand. “I’m sure.”

Sindri only hesitated for a second before accepting the help up. “Home, then,” Kratos said.

“Yeah. Home.”

#god of war #god of war sindri #suicidal thoughts cw #suicide attempt cw #god of war spoilers #ragnarok spoilers #god of war ragnarok spoilers #spoilers #fic: the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin

75 notes · View notes

unscrupulousartist · 1 year ago

Text

hellerby fic, part 9/10

25 September 1929

Shut in a dim office full of whispering people, leaning back in a chair with a damp cloth draped over his eyes, Mordecai's mind was at home in his apartment. Nothing particularly exciting had happened, or would be happening, there. The previous month hadn't been graced with any particular visitors—thou Ivy and Mitzi occasionally came around to check on him outside of working hours—and there had been no renovations or alterations needed. The only thing different was a single button down shirt, discarded before a party and apparently forgotten when the owner of said shirt had, seemingly, gathered the rest of his clothes whilst leaving a conspicuously inebriated Mordecai to drool into his pillows.

In spite of Mitzi and Zib muttering in his ear, he could still picture that shirt, crumpled and kicked under his bed. He hadn't noticed it for most of a day, too busy vomiting away a disproportionate hangover to do much more than putter around groaning at his plants. And when he did finally notice, it took another day for him to work up the nerve to pick it up and add it to his laundry. Since then, it had been ironed and hung in his closet, with a tag around the hanger which read Return to Rocky. He had yet to return it to Rocky.

"Here—" Zib whispered, and a cool glass tapped Mordecai's cheek.

Sighing, Mordecai shifted into a more upright position and pulled the cloth from his face. His eyes throbbed as he opened them, and faint auras radiated from the open window and the tip of Zib’s cigarette. Without his glasses, Zib's figure duplicated and overlapped itself; but the old cat also held a glass of water, which Mordecai took. "Thank you."

"Sure I can't convince you on weed?" Zib raised a brow. "Might help."

"I'm sure," Mordecai closed his eyes and took a sip.

Mitzi came and sat on the arm of Mordecai's chair, and softly laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's all sorted. Wick will be around to pick us up shortly, and Horatio knows to only bother you in an emergency."

"It's a headache," he cracked open one eye to stare at her. "I'm not dying."

“Still, sugar. There shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Mm,” he rubbed at the tension in his brow and took another sip of water. “As long as JJ stays away from the bar.”

Zib snorted. “That’s a hard sell, but I’ll remind him.”

Mitzi clicked her tongue and prodded Mordecai’s shoulder. “Shift over—” she maneuvered him a quarter turn towards Zib, so that she could wedge a little closer and rub circles at his temples.

Reluctantly grateful, Mordecai relaxed against her knee.

Zib snickered. “I think he’s purring.”

“Shut up,” Mordecai couldn’t manage a scowl.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mitzi leaned to speak over Mordecai’s head; he could almost hear her eyes batting at Zib. “I’ll rub your feet later.”

“You can’t afford me,” Zib teased.

“You can’t,” Mordecai agreed. “We barely broke even last month.”

“Hush you,” Mitzi ruffled his hair, then resumed her ministrations. “I’m tryin’ to be nice.”

“You’re as bad as Wick,” Zib sighed.

“No one’s as bad as Wick,” Mitzi chuckled. “I’m tellin’ you, honey, he’s bein’ intentionally obtuse.”

Eyes still closed, Mordecai asked: “Does that mean you’re backdating the pool?”

“That only seems fair,” Mitzi nodded as Zib groaned.

“Well, then I’ll have to say the first day of Chanukah, last year.”

Mitzi made an interested noise, but the door opened before she could attempt an interrogation. A slice of incandescent light cut behind Mordecai’s eyelids; he hissed and flinched into the chair.

“Everything is ready!” Rocky shouted with a flourish.

Half a dozen people sounded off: “Shhhhh!”

“Sorry,” Rocky whisper-shouted. “Why are all the lights off?”

Biting his tongue, Mordecai squinted his eyes open.

“Mordecai’s head hurts, dear,” Mitzi replied quietly. Standing up, she approached Rocky. “Is Wick here?”

“Uh—” Rocky looked from Mitzi, to Mordecai, and back again. “Yes?”

“Wonderful, everyone—” Standing station at the door, Mitzi waved the room forward to leave. A few of the loiterers muttered goodbyes to Mordecai, including a silent Viktor who squeezed Mordecai’s shoulder on his way past.

Zib propped himself on the back of Mordecai’s chair. “Last year, huh?”

“When Mitzi had you selling Christmas kisses for nickels,” Mordecai explained as he retrieved his glasses from his jacket pocket. “It’s the only time I’ve seen him actually drunk.”

“I don’t remember that,” Zib narrowed his eyes.

“It raised enough profits to keep the bar stocked for months,” Mordecai added. “I don’t think I saw you sober until the New Year.”

“Not helpful,” Zib sighed as he stood. Then he ruffled Mordecai’s hair. “Drink your water.”

Mordecai exaggerated a snarl at his retreating form, and saw Rocky still lingered by the door. The musician squinted at Mordecai, until Mitzi started closing the door. “Come on, Rocky,” she said. “Good night, Mordecai.”

“Happy Birthday,” said Mordecai.

Grinning, Mitzi winked as she closed the door.

Leaving Mordecai blissfully alone. Slumping, he tested the damp cloth over his eyes; but it had warmed to room temperature and did nothing to soothe the lingering ache. Instead, he perched the heel of the water glass on his forehead and let out a long breath. It was cool on his brow, a sharp point of focus to distract him from pain.

Though the world curdled on the back of Mordecai’s tongue, it was spinning less. Some combination of too many drinks—he could almost taste the strawberry daiquiri Mitzi had brought—and whatever had been in the flask had emptied the contents of Mordecai’s stomach; though he was still doubtful of the musician’s libations. Slumping back, he propped his elbows on the stairs behind him and called out: "I can see you."

Rocky leaned further out from the doorframe. "I thought Zib was lying."

"I's habitual," Mordecai slurred. Drifting, his shoulder touched the wall. "Wha'd he lie about this time?"

Slinking forward, Rocky managed to stick to the shadows as he approached. His eyes glowed in the darkness. "Would you like the fibs or the truths?"

"Both."

Biting his smile, Rocky crawled up the steps beside Mordecai. "He said you were no fun."

"I'm not," Mordecai agreed with a nod.

Snorting, Rocky slotted himself next to Mordecai. Their shoulders brushed, nudging. "I'm sorry I got you drunk."

"A-leggedly."

Rocky snickered.

Mordecai tried again. "Barely. Paussssibly a little. Not 'nough for anyone to notice."

"You threw up," Rocky pointed out. "Into a plant."

Mordecai's nose scrunched. "Tha' doesn' mean anyone noticed."

Rocky huffed a smile, then sobered. His ears lowered and he looked down. "Still, I'm sorry. I wanted to make a good impression, instead I messed up again."

Much, much later Mordecai would admit to himself that, yes, his inhibitions were lower than normal. In the moment he leaned closer, voice rumbling with a wayward purr. "You’ll have to make it up to me."

Hissing at the memory, Mordecai removed the glass from his head to chug the last of the water. Then, placing it on the floor, he rearranged himself to sprawl lower in the chair with his legs hanging over an armrest.

Distracting himself with trivial math, he fought to keep his mind clear and unfocused on the rhythmic throbbing of his brain. For a while it worked, an unknown amount of time bleeding into unconsciousness as his breath slowed with his heart rate. Drifting, he thought he heard music.

“It’s not really anything,” said Rocky. From atop the car, he performed a rudimentary scale, first with an up bow and then with pizzicato. “Just whatever comes to mind.”

Mordecai took another sip of elixir, then tapped the flask against the car’s hood. “And you perform that way?”

“Yea?” Rocky laughed. “For being the-one-to-impress, you don’t know a whole lot about jazz.”

“Someone lied to you.”

“We covered that.” Turning in place, Rocky spiraled into a seated position and crossed his legs. “It’s a lie I’d like to believe.”

Mordecai frowned, squinting. “You shouldn’t want to believe a lie.”

Placing the violin bow beside him, Rocky shrugged. “But I want to impress you.”

Rushed footsteps caused Mordecai’s ears to twitch, and he realized he had napped. His headache, while still present, had somewhat lessened, but the room was near full dark when he opened his eyes.

Then the doors threw open again, and a panting Horatio stumbled in. “Fire!” he yelled.

Scrambling upright, Mordecai tripped over the armrest and hopped on one foot as he regained his balance. “Where?”

“The stage—”

“Evacuate the guests,” Mordecai pushed Horatio out the door first. “Out the garage if you can.”

Horatio started down the stairs, one hand grabbing the railing to keep himself steady. “Mozzie already started.”

“What happened?”

Fumbling over the last step, Horatio crashed into the open door of the Lackadaisy. Hazy smoke trickled through the ingress, tendrils snaking along the ceiling. “Rocky—”

“What?” He interrupted, tensing. “Didn’t he go on the cruise?”

“No?” Horatio's voice hitched higher. “He said—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mordecai growled. “Get the guests and get out.”

The main room of the bar was a spectacle of chaos that simultaneously settled the worst of Mordecai’s fears and stood all his fur on end. Mozzie and JJ were both corralling gawking patrons, trying to convince a crowd to stop spectating the disaster unfolding on the stage. A flickering orange glow cast everything in an eerie light, throwing moving shadows across the bar and ceiling. The piano was on fire.

As Horatio joined the losing battle with the guests, Mordecai stalked to the bar. He found and filled an ice bucket with water, carried it to the stage, and doused the flames. The smoke sputtered to a stop—it made it easier to see the smoldering pile of detritus that remained of the piano, somewhat misshapen with mysterious objects—and the murmuring crowd went quiet for a moment. Then the room erupted in cheers.

The curtains swung aside as Rocky stumbled onto the stage with a fire extinguisher. “Here!” He yelled, then paused to blink at Mordecai. Mordecai glared back at him. “Oh—you fixed it.”

Sighing, Mordecai shook his head and walked out to center stage. He raised his voice to address the crowd and squinted in the spotlight; numbly, it occurred to him that adrenaline had dulled the rest of his headache down to a mild twinge. “If everyone could please evacuate while we check for damage, there will be a round of cocktails served in the garage. On the house.”

Someone whistled and the crowd started listening to directions. Mordecai jumped down from the stage.

Something thunked, and Rocky scrambled to follow him. “It took forever to find the fire extinguisher! A moment sooner and you wouldn’t’ve had to come down from your rest—”

Mordecai bit his cheek.

From across the room, JJ jogged close. “Are we really serving—?”

“Of course,” said Mordecai. He beelined toward the bar, bucket still in hand. “If it was just the piano, we should be fine to continue operating. But we need to look at the stage, and someone should check if Mozzie swallowed smoke.”

“He was looking a little green,” JJ nodded.

“Guests first; there might still be some champagne leftover from Mitzi’s order,” Mordecai rounded into the bartending station and waved JJ to follow. “Make some of those disgusting brunch things you and Zib like so much. But not as strong, please.”

“Some orange tonic for the nerves,” JJ winked and chuckled, but his hands were shaking as he moved to find the needed ingredients.

“What happened?”

“Ah…” JJ cringed a little, and looked at Rocky.

Staying on the client side, Rocky sidled between two stools and drummed his claws on the bartop. “It was supposed to be a simple trick,” said Rocky; JJ snorted.

Mordecai narrowed his eyes at the violinist.

“I’ve performed it hundreds of times,” Rocky continued. “A balancing act of sorts, with a flaming hoop—”

Here, JJ interjected: “you never said anything about fire.”

“Didn’t I?” Rocky squinted and scratched his neck. “It’s what makes the trick exciting.”

Sighing, Mordecai rubbed his head and looked at JJ. “I thought only you and Mozzie were staying behind; everyone else was to be entertainment on the boat.”

“Uh—” frowning, JJ carefully picked up a couple bottles of champagne as he looked between Mordecai and Rocky.

“Zib and the rest have it covered,” Rocky waved a hand to emphasize. “I figured the bar needed more help than a pleasure cruise. What could go wrong on a pleasure cruise? The fun is right there in the name!”

The ice bucket clanged as Mordecai tossed it into the sink, and all three of them flinched—albeit for slightly different reasons. Still facing JJ, Mordecai pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “JJ, send Mr Rickaby home; then help Mozzie and Horatio with the guests.” It was nearly one, still early for a typical Wednesday but late enough that a frazzled regular might forgive them. But the song and dance would have to continue. “I’ll check the stage.”

Rocky slumped until only his eyes peered above the bar, ears angling low.

“Um…” JJ looked between them again.

“Perfect,” said Mordecai. Turning on his heel, he proceeded to the stage.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fan comic #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy fanart #fanfiction #i haven't picked a title #the fic has been written but i'm still illustrating it #posting all the parts here before i upload to ao3 later #hellerby #mordecai x rocky #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby #*slaps fic* this baby can fit so many headcanons #mordecai is tsundere #inappropriate use of shakespeare #nonlinear #flashbacks

16 notes · View notes