#i was going to make this last night but my brain was fried from work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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test drive

Pairing: ex-boyfriend!Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.9k

cw: exes-to-lovers, a breakup scene (flashback) established past relationship, fluff, some angst, smut - car sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, face-riding, 69 position, sex with no condom, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: You’re moving back to your hometown of Paradis after completing two long years of grad school in Marley. In desperate need of a car, you’re surprised to hear from your ex-boyfriend Eren, who graciously offers you one. Author’s Note: Had this in my head for a while, brain is a little fried at the moment, but I just had to get this out! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated! Header image found on Pinterest, mdni divider by @/mikeykuns.

“Eren, do you think we should break up?”

The two of you are in your bedroom, finished packing the last of your luggage before you fly out to Marley tomorrow morning. It’s near midnight on the last day of summer. The windows are open, and the chirping of crickets is loud amidst the silence of the night air. He zips your suitcase closed, peering at you, confused. “What?”

It’s been the lingering question on your mind the past couple of weeks, but you were too afraid to mention it. Maybe you were hoping that the thought would go away on its own. You didn’t really want to break up. You love him. The idea of being apart scares you, though. The uncertainty, the unknown. Two years isn’t very long in the grand scheme of life, but who’s to say you don’t end up deciding to remain in Marley for good? Eren has already made it clear that he has no intentions of leaving Paradis. Would staying together be a waste of time when the future is so unpredictable?

You bite your lip, nervous to elaborate, voice timid. “I’ve heard that long distance is really hard.”

He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “So? We’ll get through it.”

“Will we, though? I’m going to be busy with school, and you’re starting your new job. Plus, Marley is so far away. When are we ever going to see each other?”

He stares at you as if you’re sputtering nonsense. “We’ll make it work,” he answers, definitive.

“It’s not going to be easy.”

He scratches his scalp, frustrated. “I don’t understand. Do you want to break up?”

You stay quiet, contemplating. When you don’t respond right away, he says, “You do, don’t you?” He sounds like he’s been betrayed, which in retrospect, he has been. By you, of all people. The person who’s supposed to love him.

Breathing staggered, tears welling in your eyes, you murmur, “I just don’t know if we can do it.”

He begins pacing the floor, voice increasing in volume, rightfully upset. “You don’t know if you can do it. Me? I’m all in. You’re already giving up before we try.”

“I just don’t want either of us to get hurt!” you cry.

“What do you call this, then?!” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This fucking hurts! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way sooner?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t sure! I was scared.” You sob into your hands. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

He’s shaking his head erratically, fists bunched in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. After all we’ve been through. You don’t even want to give it a shot.”

You swallow hard, wiping snot from your nose. “We can try it out. Let’s try it out,” you plead with him, regretting it.

“No. It’s too late now. You already set us up for failure. Since you’re not confident about us, then maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.” He sounds spiteful. Daggers piercing through your heart in the form of harsh words. And while you struggle for breath, drenching the fabric of your t-shirt, you can’t blame him for reacting this way. You spent an amazing summer together, and the night before you leave, you drop a grenade like this. What were you thinking?

“Eren,” you beg, sniffling

“I gotta go,” he mutters, grabbing his keys, avoiding your gaze.

“Eren, wait!” you shout, following him out the room. Down the stairs. Through the front door. In front of his car. “Eren! I’m sorry! I take it back!”

“Have a nice life in Marley,” he spits out, getting into his car, slamming it shut, and reversing out of the driveway without another word. Headlights reflect off the shimmer in your eyes, watching him leave.

That’s the last time you saw Eren. The next day, you boarded your flight to Marley and moved into your new home. You tried to call him, text him, even pestered friends and family to urge him to reach out to you. He never did. And all the while, you still don’t blame him for reacting the way he did.

The two of you were happy. You loved each other. And when an inkling of hardship reared its ugly head, you ran for it instead of facing it. There’s no way you could have predicted that your relationship would fall apart. In fact, there’s many times that you’ve considered how much stronger the two of you would have gotten if you did stay together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. If you had believed that sooner, you wouldn’t be living with this remorse.

It's been over two years since that day. Life continued, though it was tough not having Eren around anymore. He was always your biggest supporter, the anchor that kept you afloat. Grad school wouldn’t have been as stressful if you had him by your side, but you managed to scrape by. You made new friends along the way while maintaining your relationships from home. Mikasa and you would chat regularly, and on occasion, she would mention Eren’s name in passing. You received little footnotes of his life through her, but overall, he’s a stranger to you now.

That being said, you’re shocked to finally hear from him after that fateful night two years ago.

Following graduation, you secured a job in Paradis nearby your hometown. For now, the plan is to move in with your family until you save enough money to move out. Unfortunately, you don’t have car. So, in an unexpected turn of events, you sit in the rear of a taxi, on your way to Eren’s.

Eren: Heard you’re home and you need a car.

Those were his first words to you after two whole years of radio silence. After telling you to have a nice life in Marley. Of course, you were stunned when his name popped up on your screen in the first place, even more so to see his offer to help you. Most likely he was informed about your current situation by Mikasa. Nevertheless, it shocks you that he wants anything to do with you.

You actually want to meet with him. It may be no more than a business transaction, but to see him in the flesh will be nice. Will it fix what happened? Probably not. It’s worth a shot, though, for some peace of mind. Maybe this is his own way of telling you that he’s over it, and that the two of you can finally put this to bed.

So, you arrange a time to meet at his place. He gives you an unfamiliar address; it seems he moved out of his parent’s house not long after he started working. Mikasa had mentioned that before. What she’s never disclosed with you is if he’s been dating. On your way to him, your belly begins to fill with dread. Could you handle seeing Eren with another woman? Living together, happily in love? You want him to be happy, but with someone else? Deep down, you still love him. You never dated anyone seriously during your time in Marley. No one even came close to him. He’ll never get back together with you, not after what happened. In fact, you’re positive he’s already found someone, a person who will appreciate him and love him for all he is. Someone who isn’t afraid. It’s better he’s with someone else; you actually hope you see that today, so that you can finally move on.

The trip takes over half an hour. You recognize the route being taken; the same one you would take on the way to Paradis University, where you and Eren met for the first time. During freshman year, Mikasa, your roommate at the time, introduced you to him. The two of you became fast friends, even faster lovers. The spark was there the moment you shook his hand, the moment he gazed into your eyes, flashing that charming smile at you. It was casual at first, no labels, no strings attached. Two horny college kids fulfilling their sexual desires exclusively with one another. Kisses and sex soon became something more, something special. By the time you were sophomores, it was official: he was yours and you were his.

The driver enters a quaint neighborhood, pulling up to the front of a modern apartment complex. Once you pay the fare, you step out, inspecting the building. Eren lives on the third floor; each unit has a balcony overlooking the neighborhood, the nearby cityscape in the near distance. It’s a beautiful location and your curiosity gets the best of you. Who is he currently sharing his life with? Do they watch sunrises together from their grand view, sipping their morning coffee in domestic bliss? Should it be you instead?

Before you get carried away with your imagination, you retrieve your phone from your bag, texting him that you have arrived and are waiting outside. There’s no reason for you to head up into his apartment, right? You’re here to check out his car; that’s it. You can’t help thinking that it would be fun to check out. For research purposes, of course.

He replies quickly, mentioning how he’ll head down to you. You take a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself to see him for the first time ever since your bitter goodbye. Do you hug him? Keep your distance? Should you say anything personal or keep it strictly professional? All of these conflicting feelings are fighting with each other in your head. There’s so much you want to tell him: your life the last two years, how sorry you are for the way it ended, how much you miss him. At the same time, you want a clean slate, almost as if you’re strangers meeting for the first time.

As he steps out from the lobby, you freeze on the spot, dazzled by his presence. What strikes you initially is how long his hair has gotten; it’s enough to put up into a small bun, with a few stray strands scattered around his face. His eyes are as brilliant as ever, barely visible dark circles underneath from age or stress, most likely the lather; it hasn’t been that long. There’s still that youthful charm about him, though. That will never fade.

He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black sweats pants, an outfit reminiscent of his college years, laid-back and casual. You’ve always liked this look on him, always found it sexy. Too many memories of you stripping this exact attire off him, hasty to make love in the twin bed of his dormitory. You try to shake these thoughts away as he approaches you with a rigid disposition, hesitant and a bit awkward. He clears his throat before saying, “Hey.” His hands are in his pockets as he greets you.

You respond with a gentle smile. “Hi.”

This is going to be harder than you thought.

~~~

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up, since he last saw her. Two whole fucking years.

Eren didn’t want to break up. The thought never even crossed his mind. He was determined to be with her the rest of his life, of their lives. That’s why he got so upset when she suggested it. They spent an entire summer together, perfect in every possible way, and she had the nerve to ask that question the night before the big move? Do you think we should break up? He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. They were supposed to love each other forever.

It doesn’t excuse the way he behaved to her afterwards. Instead of discussing it like a mature adult, he exploded, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging in his head. His ego was hurt, pride shot down, heart betrayed. Following that night, Eren was too ashamed by the whole ordeal; he thought it’d be easier to ignore it and move on.

Move on. Yeah right.

He replays those scenes constantly. Her pleas of We can try it out. Let’s try it out. I’m sorry! I take it back! ringing in his ears like a broken record, reminding him that if they talked about it, if he had just turned around to work it out, maybe they’d still be together. They’d be happy. It’s the biggest regret of his life; not fighting for her and letting her slip away. A fleeting moment of weakness and fear leading to their ultimate demise. A tragic ending to such a beautiful story. Can they ever get the happy ending they wanted?

He tried to date other women; it never amounted to anything serious. Eventually, Eren gave up on the dating scene all together, focusing his energy on other priorities like his career and friendships. He was hoping that one day, he’d magically be over her.

When Mikasa informs him about her move back to Paradis, he knows immediately he needs to meet with her. Seeing her one last time might be the key to moving on once and for all. So, he finally decides to be mature and contact her, under the guise of giving her one of his cars. In his defense, he’s been meaning to sell it anyways. He never could quite let it go, though, considering it’s the car he drove all throughout college, with her. Late night drives to Maria’s Point, holding hands and kissing beneath the stars. Fast food runs at their favorite drive-thru, her feeding French fries to him from the passenger side, cruising through the empty streets with their favorite music blaring through the radio speakers. Even the backseat has seen plenty of action during those years, the foreground to many naughty trysts away from campus. Every corner of it carries a memory of her; that’s why he’s been so reluctant to let it go. He still loves her. But that’s all in the past. This car will be the final peace offering that will allow him to move on. He’s got it all planned out.

What he’s not prepared for is the rush of emotions that flood his chest upon seeing her. This is definitely not part of the plan.

When he greets her, she smiles at him, the same radiant smile he’s yearned for the two years of her absence. One that instantly warms his soul. He does his best to maintain his composure. Keep it together, he thinks to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he clenches his fists, bursting at the seams. This isn’t part of the plan.

He kicks the ground with his heels, fidgeting. “So…it’s been a minute, huh?” He does a mental eye roll to himself. Did he really say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot.

She giggles, and he nearly combusts. How is it that a simple laugh can ignite every fiber of his being? He’s a fool for assuming he could get through this unscathed. “Yeah. It has. How are you?” Her expression is sincere; he always loved that about her, how intently she listens, how much she cares. Even after their harsh breakup, that sincerity remains. She’s making this much more difficult than he expected.

He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m okay. You?”

She mimics him, raising her shoulders. “I’m alright.”

He chews his lip nervously before asking, “Well, do you want to check out the car?” Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, he reminds himself.

She nods, following him to the parking garage to his designated spot. Her eyes widen when she sees it. “You want to sell me this?”

“Yup.”

She inspects it, mouth parted, surprised. “Wow. The Titan.”

He busts out in laughter, amused that she remembers the silly nickname they came up with freshman year. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

She turns to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips curled into a warm smile. “How could I forget?”

He swallows hard, saliva thick on his tongue. Fluttering in his core, tingling through his fingers. The question stumbles out quickly. “Want to take it out for a spin? A test drive?”

Eren’s aware that this is dangerous territory. The two of them, enclosed in the small space of his car, memories in every crevice of the interior. It’s his chance to properly apologize for what happened. That’s how he justifies it, at least. Part of him also wants to recreate their past together. Riding in his car, fingers laced together on the center console, singing their favorite songs with the windows rolled down, wind blowing on their smiling faces. It’s infeasible; he doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. There’s that tiny portion of him that holds out hope; she did agree to meet him. That means something, right?

She contemplates for a moment. “Sure. Can you drive, though?”

“Still the passenger princess, I see.”

“Some things never change, right?” She gives him a wink before stepping to the side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the doors.

He gulps, thrilled and jittery at whatever adventure they’re about to embark on. In the corner of his mind, all he can think is

Fuck the plan.

~~~

You weren’t supposed to get in it with him. The idea was to meet him and do the exchange, simple as that. When you recognize the car, all the memories you shared flood into your mind. You let your emotions get the best of you; you want one more special moment with Eren. It’s only fair to your relationship to end it on a good note, right? You weren’t expecting anything more than closure, which was what the both of you needed.

He doesn’t tell you where he’s driving to, but he doesn’t have to. By the time you’re on the highway, you watch the sun set in the distance from the rearview mirror. You pass by multiple signs, indicating Maria’s Point in x number of miles, the amount decreasing the closer you approach it. The two of you chat, condensing all from the past two years into a half hour car ride. You describe your experience in grad school, he talks about his full-time job. It’s cordial, like two old friends catching up after a while being apart. Except the both of you are fully aware of the elephant squished in the backseat of The Titan. Neither of you mention anything about it.

He drives up the familiar hill leading up to the panorama at the top of the cliff. This spot of Maria’s Point is often secluded, which was perfect for you and Eren back in the day. He parks away from the edge, the last rays of orange and pink hovering on the skyline. With a twist of his keys, he shuts off the ignition and it’s silent. Suddenly, after effortless conversation, you’re shy, unable to speak.

Luckily, he does. “I actually want to talk to you about something important.”

You snap your seatbelt off, adjusting to give him your full attention. His hands remain on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night.” He doesn’t need to elaborate; you know exactly what he’s referring to. You’re caught off guard from the apology, so you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

After a deep breath, he explains, “I blew up, and I shouldn’t have. I got upset because I thought you had given up before we even tried. But I know you were scared; I was too. Regardless, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry. For that and for avoiding you after.” He slides his hands around the wheel, dropping them to his lap. His eyes are forward, avoiding you.

When he doesn’t have more to add, you respond. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blindsided you. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of ignoring it until the last minute. Like you said, I was scared, so I ran away from it without even giving it a shot. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to us.” He’s focuses on you now, listening carefully as you talk. “Just so you know, I never blamed you for how you reacted. I deserved it.”

He shifts his body towards you, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

You blink away the oncoming tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, Eren. We can do that now.”

The stillness that follows is concerning. He studies you with an unreadable expression, contemplating. Then, he leans closer to you, elbow resting on the center console, his breath tickling your cheeks, whispering, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

You gravitate towards him, lessening the space between you, gazing at his lips. “You don’t?”

“I never wanted to in the first place.”

Drifting forward, you rest your forehead to his, the skin-to-skin contact rekindling the spark that burned so brightly not too long ago. “Eren.”

“I miss you,” he confesses. “Every fucking day.”

His lips graze yours, eyes watching you, waiting. Unable to hold back any longer, you kiss him, melting into him seamlessly. The two years of remorse vanish in an instant, and you’re transported in time, as if you were never apart. You touch your palm on his chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. He slides his hand around the nape of your neck, cradling you gently, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft on yours, prudent and delicate, careful not to overbear you.

You pull off to catch your breath, clutching at his t-shirt so that’s it’s bunched into your fist. “I missed you, Eren.”

He swallows loudly, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “I missed you so fucking much,” he mutters, driving his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you desperately now. He drinks you up like he’s dying of thirst, the only cure to his drought. You match him, opening wider, swirling your tongue with his. His lips trail to your neck, sucking on the pulse point beneath your chin.

“Eren,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love hearing you say my name. Fuck,” he swears, licking at the spot. He marks you on the other side, nibbling lightly at your skin with his teeth. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Every day,” you admit, eyes closed as he moves to your ear, pinching your lobe between his lips. “And you?”

“All the time,” he answers. He breaks away, cupping your cheek tenderly in his palm. “I’m still in love with you. I love you.”

Your breath hitches, throat tight with emotion, though you manage to utter, “I love you too.”

He beams at you before suggesting, “Should we get out of here? Go to my place?”

Tugging at his collar, you shake your head with a smirk. “I can’t wait that long.”

Understanding what you’re implying, he suggests, “Backseat?”

You give him a wet smooch and a nod. He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you that needy for me, baby? Can’t even wait to go home?”

Glancing at his lap, the evident bulge protruding from his sweats, you scoff at him playfully. “Don’t act like you aren’t either. Look how big you are already.”

He grins, exiting the driver’s side and quickly sliding into the backseat, spreading his legs wide, hoisting his shirt off to reveal his chiseled torso. “You’re right. I’ve been waiting two years, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

You follow him to the rear, shrugging your blouse and pants off hastily until you’re down to your underwear. He marvels at your bare figure, licking his lips while you kneel beside him. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, scanning you up and down, almost in disbelief. “Would you think about me whenever you touched yourself?”

Nestled to his lap, ass sticking out, you nod, rubbing your face on the erection straining against the fabric. “I only thought about you, Eren.”

“Fuck,” he groans, mesmerized. He pets you, brushing his thumb across your cheeks. “Me too, sweetie. No one makes me come the way you do.” He lifts his hips to slide his bottoms and boxers down his legs, exposing his hard cock standing stiff and pretty, glistening with precum leaking from the tip.

You’re salivating, spit coating your entire mouth, hungry for his cock. Without wasting another second, you swallow him, surrounding him in your wet heat until he hits the back of your throat. He bucks up slightly, thighs trembling beneath you. “Fuck,” he swears, trailing your spine, gliding to your ass. “Always so good to me.” He slips beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. “Can I fuck you with these fingers? Please?”

You nod with his cock in your mouth, slurping the drool trickling on his shaft, bobbing on him. He slides one in, then another, pumping them in and out of you as you moan around his dick. He wriggles inside you, stimulating your sweet spot, gushing on his digits with your first orgasm. His follows immediately after, his load spurting onto your tongue, guzzling every last drop of him.

You release him, turning over so your head is resting on his lap, peering up at his face. His hand is between your legs, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs, smiling down at you. He teases your clit, flicking his wet fingers on it, causing you to whine.

“You still like it when I play with you like this,” he purrs, watching you twitch from the pleasure. “My good girl always comes so much for me.” He caresses your forehead gently, toying with your swollen bud. “Can you give me another one, princess?” Too many times do you remember him pleasuring you, sitting in the passenger seat, you gripping to his wrist, directing his hand to your pussy. Tonight is no different; he’s just as relentless, tapping away at you until your creaming for him once more.

“I need to fucking taste you,” he growls, slipping his fingers past his lips, licking them. “Sit up, sweetie. Ride me while you make me hard again.”

It’s clumsy maneuvering in the cramped space, but eventually, you get into position. He’s below you, slurping at your sopping pussy as you’re bent over his cock, licking the head as you stroke him off. The windows begin fogging up, the air sweltering and humid. Your knee digs uncomfortably into the cushion, the other hangs off the edge of the seat, foot planted to the floor. Eren manages to fit his impressive stature, one leg angled and stretched towards the driver’s side, the other laid across the backseat, enough space for you to blow him while you ride his face.

“I missed this sloppy cunt,” he muffles, spreading his tongue on you. He spits, smearing his frothy saliva across your clit, puckered around it, sucking.

Once he’s hard again, you beg, “Fuck me, Eren.” You’re close to another climax and you’re desperate to come with him in you this time. “Please.”

He laughs, lifting you off, his face glossy with your slick, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. “Whatever you want, princess.” He sits up against the seat, legs splayed like a throne for you to sit pretty on. You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy on his cock before guiding it into your entrance.

You both drawl out, “Fuck,” kissing messily, arms wrapped around each other in a snug embrace. You ride him feverishly as he fucks up into you, gripping onto your hips tightly, bouncing you on his dick. You’re both sweating immensely, the temperature in the car sweltering, but neither of you mind it, too concentrated on each other’s orgasms, too addicted to the high you’re chasing together.

“Fuck, baby. I’m so close,” he groans, picking up the pace, his thighs slapping lewdly against your ass.

“Come inside me, Eren. Fill me up,” you whimper, pushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah? You want it? Take it then. Take it sweetheart.” His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, thick cock pulsing inside you. You ride out your orgasm with him, scattering delicate kisses on his face. He grins, gazing at you with a hazy expression.

“What’s that look for?” you ask, booping his nose.

“Nothing,” he replies, cheeks rounded into a bigger smile. He squeezes your face between his palms. “I’m just happy. So unbelievably happy right now.”

You place your hands over his, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”

You stay comfortably like this for a few minutes, Eren cracking the windows open to let out some steam. You joke, “So, are you still going to sell me this car?”

He chuckles. “How about I give it to you. I was going to anyways.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a peace offering. But I like this outcome way better.”

“Me too. But I’m not going to just take it from you. Let me pay you for it.”

He tips your chin to look at you, grinning wide. “How about you move in with me instead?”

“What?” you giggle, unable to contain your smile, thrilled by the suggestion.

“Move in with me,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose to yours.

“Isn’t this is a little too soon, considering we just got back together?”

He stretches his arms out, relaxing into the seat, smirking at you. “We already wasted two years without each other, I’m not wasting any more time.”

You scoot closer to him, kissing his cheek, then his lips. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”

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staybabblingbaby · 1 month ago

Text

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.5 (Verbena) a1d1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 1,903

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: Wow!!! It's been forever! It's amazing what a decent night's sleep can do for one's creativity. Cranked this out in abt 3ish hours???? maybe 4??? It's ok this has been marinating in my brain for fucking ever lmao, but I fried my brain getting it out so this is what we have for now o7

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, Mentions of panic attack, Reader is processing her feelings </3

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part (Unfinished </3)

By some miracle, you make it home without incident.

You slam open your front door for the second time in as many days, and make straight for your room to properly scream into your pillow. You’re late for work at this point, having intended to go straight from the gym to your office, but honestly just the thought of being a functioning human being right now made you want to cry. Everything made you want to cry, actually.

You hear the door to your room creak open slowly, and you can practically see Taylor’s stupid considerate blond head peeking in cautiously even from your position laying face down on your mattress trying to suffocate in your pillows. He takes the lack of soft objects being flung at him as welcome and invites himself further into the room.

You’re not sure how your roommate seems to spawn wherever you are when you’re upset, but when the bed dips under his weight, and Taylor’s warm, not-your-soulmate, hand soothes comfortingly down your spine, you can only be grateful for the superpower.

Your roommate lets you marinate in your misery for a bit, running his fingers through your hair and just being a silent comfort. Eventually though, he get tired of your brooding and tugs lightly at the strangs between his fingers.

“Alright, out with it.” He demands softly, “Who am I killing? Where are we hiding the body? I need details.”

You huff a soft laugh into your pillows and roll over to the side of your bed, arm wildly swinging about in search of the gym bag you’d dropped during your dramatics. You find it after a moment or two and fumble around to unzip and pull out that atrocious hat. You take satisfaction in flinging it at Taylor’s face, even if he manages to catch it before it hits him.

“No murder,” You answer at last, face once more smooched between pillows, “Just hate myself.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taylor studies the hat, and you’d bet the mix of disgust and puzzlement at the offending item would be priceless if you could bring yourself to look at him. As it is, you reject the thought of receiving any sort of joy and remain prone.

You can tell the moment he realizes what exactly he’s holding, because he sighs heavily and drops his full weight onto your back.

Ignoring your pained grunt and weak struggle to free yourself (because of course he knows the pressure grounds you. Stupid best friend knowledge) Taylor asks, “So, what happened? Whose signiture is it?I can’t murder my favorite group, but I’m sure I could start some sort of fan war if I needed to.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You sulk to your pillows, giving up on freedom and going limp. Taylor gently raps against your skull with his knuckle in reprimand.

“C’mon now. I know that’s not true. You’re here instead of work.” The blond gently points out.

And curse the man, but he has a point. If you really wanted to hide from what happened you’d be in your office right now, pilling on so much work you couldn’t think of anything else. You’d drown your feelings in routine like you’d tried to this morning.

You whine and squirm a moment longer, but Taylor easily keeps his seat on your back, and you quickly give up again.

“I had a panic attack in front of him,” You admit, shifting to more fully bury yourself, hoping the words will be too muffled to make up. You can’t help the rush of hot shame that shoots through you as you recall your loss of composure.

Usually you’d at least make your way to somewhere more private, brushing off stray tears as allergies and any stuttering as nerves, but you’d just been hit so quickly with the bond, struck so violently by how gentle it felt, you’d been helpless to anything but crumple where you stood.

“Yeah? You doin’ alright?” Taylor coos gently, a hand coming up to knead firmly at the base of your neck, another grounding technique you’d taught him. You grumble as tension you didn’t realize you were carrying slowly leeches out of you at his ministrations, leaving you boneless and desperately holding back tears again. This is why you’d told him this particular action was for emergencies only, it left you feeling vulnerable and soft.

You sniff quietly, your voice thick when your reply, “I don’t know.”

“C’mon love,” Taylor cajoles, “tell me all about it.”

“I- I just.” You stutter and gulp quietly, tears finally spilling over, “He was way too nice to me,” the words crawl out of your throat unbidden, and you finally let everything you’d been carrying overflow.

“I keep putting them through rejection, an’- and I’m a terrible soulmate but he was so kind and he helped me through the panic and he has to hate me now and I don’t know why I can’t just not want them when they scare me so bad,” You blubber out, curling in on yourself when Taylor moves off of you to give you the space to breathe through your tears, huge, gasping, sobs escaping you between words.

Your roommate lets you get your feelings out, holding you through it and rocking you gently. It doesn’t take long for your tears to run out though, you’d never been able to let go of yourself for long.

When your sobs are reduced back to sniffles, Taylor smiles kindly at you.

“You’re kinda dumb.”

You gasp in offense, trying to turn enough to smack him, but Taylor just giggles and holds you tighter so you can’t retaliate.

“I mean it!” He asserts through his laughter, “You keep acting like it’s the end of the world to have trauma, be nicer to yourself,” He scolds lightly. “Besides, of course they’re nice to you! Their whole brand is being kind and generous people.” He lectures, “As a STAY it is my solemn duty to inform you that those men love like breathing. It’s obvious in everything they do, of course their first instinct is to love you.”

Taylor looks down at you with bright eyes, his smile says he hopes for you, and you find yourself swept away by his optimism, “You just have to give yourself a chance, love.”

You lean heavily against him, a silent agreement. You can’t say the words yet, can’t find forgiveness in your heart for how you’ve treated the people who have supported both you and your roommate through your hardest times, though in different ways. But still, his words forge determination on your behalf.

Taylor taps your side where the newest batch of flowers has freshly bloomed.

“Though,” he contemplates, “I’m not entirely convinced you’re actually rejecting them.”

You sniff miserably, squirming around to face the blond, “What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose in confusion, “I’ve run from every one of them, of course I am.”

“No, yeah,” he agrees, “I just mean that you’re not showing any symptoms.”

You think about it for a moment, and have to concede the point. Taylor must see it in your face, because he continues, “I mean, you’re about as moody as normal,” You gently punch his chest for that, but h just catches your wrist and keeps talking, “No nausea, dizziness, body aches, muscle weakness. Hell, you just came back from the gym.”

Taylor interrupts himself with a gasp and bolts upright, “Ohmygod the gym! Did you meet Changbin?! Is that Changbin’s signature on your ugly fucking hat?! No. Wait.” Taylor holds up a hand and visibly reels himself in, taking a deep breath. “Fanboy later, friendship now.” He breathes again before getting back on track.

“Right. So. What I meant was actual Rejection is an active choice, and it’s ugly for all parties involved. You’ve just been reacting, so I don’t think you’re, like, actually causing harm.” He finally finishes explaining.

Again, you have to give him the point. Annoyingly reasonable man that he is. You haven’t felt any pain aside from the annoying prickling of the unacknowledged bond. You’ve felt unsettled, restless and uneasy, but nothing of the physical ills that accompany a soulmate rejection.

As the rejecting party, you’d be hit the worst by it, so the fact that you haven’t felt so much as a headache from anything but your own tears is good news.

Hope flutters on cautious wings in your chest.

Eventually Taylor leaves you, having used most of his lunch break to coach you through your emotions. You’d have to get him something nice to thank him later.

For your part, you decide to head into work after all, the guilt of others having to pick up your slack driving you forward. Besides, you could really use the distraction. Letting your emotions process in the background while you completed your daily tasks was exactly what you needed after the upheaval of the morning.

Unfortunately for you, your recent absence and tardiness had made you the perfect target to push off the undesirable jobs for the day, leading to you trudging through the heat to meet a client who absolutely had to have this meeting today, but couldn’t leave their gallery unattended.

Honestly, even though you’d grumbled about it when you’d realized you’d have to leave the office, you weren’t actually too mad about it.

The client you were on your way to meet was the curator of a small local gallery, the pretentious kind of hipster place you normally wouldn’t set foot in. However, if you recalled correctly, this month they were showing collections themed around flora. A subject right up your wheelhouse.

If you had any luck, your meeting would be quick and, since you’d put it off as long as you could (just like all the coworkers that had managed to push it off to you), it had ended up your last task for the day. You’d be free to peruse the gallery to your heart’s content as long as the meeting didn’t drag past the gallery’s closing time.

The universe seems to (finally!) be on your side, because the meeting does go mercifully smoothly. So much so that you’re convinced that it could have been an email and you’d been dragged out of your office for nothing, but whatever. Free admission.

In fact, the cuator offers to tour you through the exhibits on display themself, only leaving you to your own devices when a wealthy-looking someone-or-other approaches about purchasing a piece.

It’s much better this way, in your opinion. You can take your time staring blankly at the art, judging how well they’ve depicted the flowers precious to your heart, and sit with the storm of feelings in your heart without having to listen to some man tell you how each painting should make you feel.

You’re doing exactly that, staring blankly at a piece depicting the view from under a wisteria tree and thinking about your matching soulmark, when a man comes up to you, regardless of your narrow escape.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only really seeing tufts of long blond hair peeking out from under a dark beanie, his face obscured by a black facemask. Fake glasses are perched daintily a-top his nose, and you immediately dismiss him as just another art snob you’re not really interested in listening to.

The 'Everything Always' Tag List: @chancloud8 , @sh0dor1 ,

To the readers who come across this: If you want to be added to the progress taglist for just this fic, let me know in the replies here or on this post!

#stay babbling #baby writes #w.i.p fic #w.i.p #SGAU #Soulmate Garden AU

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 month ago

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oral agreement ~ a dribble drabble

you make a bet with conor o'neil... nsfw, it's a little naughty 🤭 disclaimer: i kno v little about le sports... enjoy! 😂😈

You’d never admit it out loud, but it might be true that you’ve always had a soft spot for Conor O’Neil. He’s kind of a shithead sometimes, but sometimes? He’s not so bad. You've been bartending at his favorite watering hole for what feels like an eternity now, like you’ve both become just part of the fixtures.

You used to hookup, occasionally, when he was the last one drinking, closing down the bar because he didn't want to go home, brought low over losing a bet with money he didn’t really have. It was always fast, and not terribly sweet, but that was just life and you were used to it by now. Hoping for more from a man these days was just asking to get yourself hurt one way or another.

So what, if he fried your last brain cell, that one time he came strutting into the bar, bellowing the lyrics to Big Poppa like the gospel, grabbing you up as he crooned the last line of the chorus and planting one on you. “Cause I see some ladies tonight that should be havin’ my baby! Baby…”

“You wish, O’Neil,” you’d groused, pushing him off with a roll of eyes, even if his soft lips on yours made you tingle all over. He was so annoying, with those sparkling dark eyes, and that trickster’s grin. A baby is the last thing you need right now, (you can barely take care of yourself), but you never forget what it felt like to be held in that man’s big hands, even if he only meant it as a joke.

Ha fucking ha.

You’d watched from afar as coaching those kids healed something inside him. Gave him something to care about, besides the next score. You were happy for him, even if he didn’t come in as frequently. It was good that he stopped putting down ruinous bets with your boss. Sometimes he brought that pretty teacher around too. She was like a ray of pure sunshine–not a creature of the night like you. You pretended that you weren’t jealous, but fuck. It kinda hurt.

When he starts drinking more because they obviously broke up, you try not to be smug about it.

One night you’re cleaning glasses, and he’s watching the Bull’s game with a bit more interest than his usual of late.

“You got money on them?” you ask, trying to keep the note of worry from your tone. Maybe you’re glad to have him back, but you don’t want to see him totally backslide. “Nah, I don’t do that anymore. Unless…” Damn him for that one-hundred percent Irish glitter of mischief in his eyes. “You want to?” You scoff, turning your attention back down to the tumbler in your hand. “I work too hard for my money to gamble it away.” He smirks at you, a hint of the old sly fox returned. “We could bet something else?” There’s that gleam in his eye again, and you don’t think it has anything to do with you. Gambling was this man’s first love; the excitement of it still clearly turns him up. Maybe it’s not about the money, really, but the rush in the winning. You hate to admit that there’s something alluring in the way he suggests it. “Like what?” you bite. He lifts his eyebrows at you playfully. You keep your cool, but fuck you if a spear of heat does not shoot straight to your loins. This fucking guy. You lean on the bar, (knowing he has a clear view of your cleavage, you know how to make your tips), tilting your head. “You want to make an oral agreement, Conor?” He smiles at you the way wolves smile at sheep. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll take that bet. Bulls will win, 6 up.” “Hmm. Alright. I think the Hornets are going to wipe the floor with them. By eight.” Conor whistles at your bravado. “You sure about that, sweetheart?” “Yeah, definitely.” “You got an insider tip or somethin’?” You shrug, reaching for another glass. “I like their colors.” Maybe you work at a sports bar, but you’re not really into sports, and you say things that are obviously wrong all the time just to elbow your customers, and you get away with it too. (see above reference to cleavage). He snorts at you, though you know he thinks you’re cute. And then he watches with disbelief as Charlotte cleans Chicago’s clock. You watch the game end with a smug little smile, leaning on the bar across from him. “Well. Looks like it’s your lucky night,” he says with a heat in his eyes that curls your toes. “I guess we’ll find out if that mouth’s good for anything besides talking shit.” He throws his head back, barking with mirth. “I guess so.” His gaze strays down to your mouth, and your clit throbs with immediate and remorseless betrayal. Treacherous cunt.

He stays until closing, helping you stack the chairs so the night janitor can clean the floors. You can feel his eyes on you from across the room, and when your chores are done he catches you up with one of those massive hands engulfing your hip, pulling you against him. “So what’s your pleasure, pretty lady?” he teases you, grinning as your fingers curl in the lapels of his leather jacket.

“Step into my office,” you say, tugging him towards the back of the bar. You’re not sure why it surprises you so much, when he gathers you into his arms and kisses you along the way. Maybe because last time you hooked up was all business, a desperate and almost clinical pursuit of release executed together against the bathroom wall. It hadn't been disappointing, per se, but nowhere near romantic. He’s downright kissing you like he likes you–who even is this guy, and what did he do with the Conor O’Neil you’ve known for years? And goddamn if he doesn’t keep kissing you, walking you backwards with those large hands on your ribcage, catching you around the waist when you trip over your own feet. “Mmm. Easy there,” he teases you in a low rumble, his lips on your neck. “Someone’s excited.” “Oh, fuck you.” He takes zero offense, chuckling darkly in a way that sends shivers across your skin. “I wish. But that wasn’t in the stakes.” As you cross the threshold of the tiny office his nimble hands are working the button of your jeans, those long fingers sliding into your panties to check the score. He finds you wet, and the groan in your ear while he strums at your slit makes you weak in the knees. “A little eager here, sweetheart?” “Just looking forward to shutting you up.” He laughs, that open burst of mirth that lights up his whole face. He’s beautiful, and you find yourself staring at him like an idiot for a few moments too long. He doesn’t tease you though. His expression softens, his other hand cupping your cheek. “Sorry I’m such an asshole.” He says this, of course, while dipping a finger inside you, making you whine. “Conor…” “Alright, alright.” He walks you backwards to the tiny desk covered in paperwork, pitching you on top of it like you weigh nothing. He strips you of your pants, only temporarily stymied when he remembers he has to take off your shoes first. Maybe you should be embarrassed, butt ass naked on your boss’s desk, but you can’t stop yourself from giggling. (You haven't had nearly as much to drink as he has, and you should know better…but here you are.) “Very funny.” He swallows whatever smart retort you might have made with another kiss that lights you up like an atom bomb, his thumb circling your clit while he leans over you. He moans in your mouth every time he swipes your entrance for more slick. “So wet for me, my pretty girl, bet you taste as sweet as you look.” So what, if his deep voice in your ear makes your thighs clench and your legs shake? So what, if you make a sound that’s barely human, when he sits in the office chair and slings your knees over his broad shoulders, kissing the insides of your thighs before putting his mouth there. And maybe there’s something to be said, for a man who never shuts up. Maybe he’s been training for this, because that devilish tongue is heaven on your clit and jesus fucking christ when he slides two of those long, thick fingers inside you, you’ve never come undone so quickly for a man. It’s mortifying, really, the way you shout and bow and squeeze him with your thighs like you intend to milk every little last drop of pleasure from his touch. By the time he’s done with you you’re both spent, you lying across the desk with papers strewn everywhere, and him resting with his cheek on your thigh.

He would be the first one to break the silence. “How bout them Hornets?”

You giggle in reply, too spent to form actual words. “The Pistons vs the Lakers are on tomorrow. Care to make things interesting?” Finally you’re able to sit up on your elbows, looking down your body at this man with the mischievous glitter in his eyes. “I dunno. I’m pretty happy with my winnings.” He sticks out his lip in a pout that should be ridiculous on a grown-ass man. “Oh come on, sweetheart, give me a chance to win something back.” “Hmm. You could just…ask me out to dinner?” You regret it the moment it leaves your lips, and you’ve never known such dread as in in the few long seconds of silence before he smiles up at you, pressing a sweet kiss to your thigh. “Alright. Are you off tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “It’s a date.”

He stands, offering your inside-out jeans back, but you can’t help but sit there swinging your bare legs, admiring the impressive tent in his trousers. “Conor?”

“Yeah baby?” “Take off your pants.” His grin is so bright it’s blinding in this dingy little closet of an office, and you can’t help but squirm, suddenly feeling like your heart doesn’t quite fit in your chest anymore. “Yes ma’am.”

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #conor o'neil #hardball #conor o'neil x reader #conor o'neil x you #i'm so sorry 😆😆#had to get it out of my system #i had a hornets hat when i was a kid bc i liked the teal and purple 😂#i did actually look up the score of this game in 2001 😂

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devildomwriter · 8 months ago

Text

Obey Me As Tumblr #33

MC: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically Galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts longer

Solomon: Fork

MC: Oh yeah I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absent minded dunce fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin

Diavolo: Uhm, you seem to forget that chips can also mean fries? And that’s probably what they were talking about haha

MC: I did not forget anything. I purposefully ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out

•

Belphegor: An alarm clock except it’s set to every time

Leviathan: We touch

Solomon: I get

Diavolo: This feeling

•

Beelzebub: I was talking with my brothers yesterday and we decided the best way to own a guy who takes off his shirt to fight you is to pick his shirt up and put it on

Mammon: That might be one of the ultimate power moves

Simeon: Or pick it up and say “lift your arms up” and try to put it back on him

•

Leviathan: By day I appear to be no more than just an average run of the mill office worker, but when night time strikes! I’m crying alone in my bed

•

Solomon: I bought my friend an elephant for their room

They said “thank you”

I said “don’t mention it”

Mammon: Is there a joke here that everyone gets but I don’t?

Belphegor: Nobody tell them

•

Thirteen:

Them: why are you competing in our cooking show today?

Me: the government banned gladiatorial matches yet I yearn for glory in the arena

Solomon: I’m here to tell you gladiator matches are still a thing, pal

Thirteen: Hm. Interesting. The last time I tried to behead a man for prestige and the right to majesty, I was dragged out of the alleyway by three very unreasonable men of the law and I would like to know where you live

•

Diavolo: What do you call a snobbish criminal going down the stairs?

Lucifer: I don’t know. What?

Diavolo: A condescending con descending

Lucifer: Get out

MC: That was beautiful

•

Leviathan: Bitten by a radioactive cicada. Now all I do is sit in a tree and scream all day

•

Solomon: Self-care is slathering yourself in baby oil and sliding down the 7th lane in your local bowling alley so the mechanical pin setter will pick you up and take you to the forbidden place behind the bowling lanes where you can meet God but only on Tuesdays

•

Mammon: Security called me at work today and told me they saw me outside chasing a frog around on the security cameras. I wasn’t in trouble they just wanted to let me know they saw me, I didn’t catch him

•

Leviathan: Me wearing a blanket as a cloak, stirring my man’n’cheese in a dimly lit room: potion

•

Satan: When I say I’m “feral” it doesn’t always mean I’m angry, maybe I’m stupid and if you give me food you’ll earn my trust and I’ll follow you around

•

Asmodeus: Covered in blood for sexy reasons

Asmodeus: Also I just got stabbed

Asmodeus: Don’t suppose there’s anyone here willing to tenderly clean, stitch and bandage my wounds while calling me an idiot in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice is there?

•

Diavolo: Introducing a new alignment— chaotic lawful. I have a strict moral code but nobody can figure out what the hell it is

•

Mammon: My best feature is that I’m blindingly intelligent for about 30 seconds a day

Mammon: I do not get to choose which seconds, they are not consecutive

•

Satan: Okay I’m normal now I promise. Let me out of the case please

•

Leviathan: Power move: calling someone a coward in the middle of a fight while also running away from them as fast as you possibly can

Lucifer: Mammon ghost wrote this

Mammon: YO

•

Leviathan: “Are you a boy or a girl?”

I am the physical embodiment of suffering

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me as tumblr #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me thirteen #obey me satan

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sanguineterrain · 10 months ago

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could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x you #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake imagine #dc fanfic #dc imagine #batman fanfic #batman imagine #inbox #blurb

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zeroseuniverse · 3 months ago

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Deadline

Word Count: 423 Summary: She frowned. “So your solution was... coffee at midnight?” “Obviously.” He cracked a tired smile. “The logic checks out, right?” Pairing: Mark X Fem Reader

Navigation

The late-night diner buzzed softly with the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen. Mark sat across from her, his hoodie pulled up and his hair a mess, as he stared blankly at the coffee cup in front of him.

"I don't know when I last slept," he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “That bad, huh?”

Mark nodded slowly, the dark circles under his eyes making him look more like a haunted artist than the easy going guy everyone knew.

“It’s the deadline,” he explained, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I could power through it, but I’ve been staring at my laptop for hours, and nothing’s coming out. My brain feels like mush.”

She frowned. “So your solution was... coffee at midnight?”

“Obviously.” He cracked a tired smile. “The logic checks out, right?”

She sighed, shaking her head as she pushed her untouched plate of fries toward him. “Eat something before you pass out.”

Mark blinked at the fries like they were a foreign concept before hesitantly grabbing one. “Thanks.”

As he chewed, she studied him quietly. It wasn’t unusual for Mark to push himself like this—he had a habit of trying to take on too much all at once, always striving to meet impossible expectations. It was one of the things she admired about him, even if it drove her crazy.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you’re not going to do your best work if you’re running on fumes. Maybe you should just call it a night and try again tomorrow.”

Mark looked up at her, his eyes glassy with exhaustion. “What if I don’t have time tomorrow?”

“Then let me help,” She offered without hesitation.

He stared at her, surprised. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “You’re always there for everyone else. Let me return the favor for once.”

Mark’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, and for a moment, he looked like himself again.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” She replied, stealing a fry from the plate she had just offered him. “But seriously, after this, we’re going home, and you’re going to sleep. No excuses.”

“Deal,” he said, his smile growing a little wider.

And just like that, the weight in his shoulders seemed to ease, if only slightly. Maybe he didn’t have everything figured out yet, but with her sitting across from him, he felt like he could breathe again.

#nct imagines #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct x reader #nct u #nctzen #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark imagines #mark lee

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suljaffs · 6 months ago

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Nanami Dabble - Surprise Dinner / fluff

Warning: this may not be that good it was just a random brain fart I wanted to write about sighfhfghfgfhhh

It was 11:30 pm. The apartment was dim with a scenic nighttime view, a couple of your vanilla candles around the dining room to set an ambiance with a somewhat nice layout of food: Mac and cheese, fries, pizza rolls, and even home made heart shaped cookies for desert. “He should be getting home any time now.” You thought, stepping back to view your creation in full. Your body tense with excitement waiting for the door to swing open.

Nanami always came home at late hours, leaving at the crack of dawn, entering while you slept. It bothered you not being able to spend much time with your lover but you never held it against him because you understood his job was hard, draining even, and you wanted nothing other than to provide a safe space for your husband. Today, you decided to do something for him. For the longest, you two have postponed plans of going to dinner because of work. The two of you could’ve just gotten in the kitchen but he wanted it to be a day where the two of you could simply relax. At first, it seemed like a good idea but with each date night turning into “I don’t have enough time after work.” And lots of cancellations on reservations because of last minute work issues, You decided to take matters into your own hands and what better than a quick at home dinner?

“That carpet fragrance is quiet strong.” Hearing not only his voice but also the lock hitch and the knob shuffle, you pulled out your phone to take a quick picture before ducking under the table, snickering to yourself.

Nanami creeped the door open, he was always careful as to not wake you up. “My.. love?” He stopped in his tracks, tucking his lips as he watched you come up from under the table, a small smile creeping its way on his face as he watched you bump your head in the process. “Su-ouch-prise!” You jumped up, a big smile on your face despite your minor injury. He softly shut the door behind him, keeping his body turned towards the closed door, back facing you. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me big boy.” You snickered, making your way over to him. “I just wanted to do something special but in all honesty, it’s not my best work.” You dismissed your hard work, but you hadn’t known what else to say to ease the moment.

“It’s perfect my love.” He turned to you, two tear trails visible on his face. Seeing him cry wasn’t crazy to you as he had been a softie: that time when you said yes to being his girlfriend in high school and even that time when a cute squirrel approached him on your guys walk through the park. You took a hand to his face, drying his tears as his head hung low. “It’s all for you.” You cooed. “Now come eat. I only really had time to actually cook the Mac and cheese so you better appreciate my hard work.” You teased, untying his tie which you know he would hate to get dirty. He took your hand before you could walk over to the table. “You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world, y/n.” He whispered before planting a deep kiss on your hand, another tear dropping.

He guided you to the table, seating you before seating himself. “I thought the smell was that carpet fragrance got you, never would’ve expected it to be this…” Nanami looked around the table, a nod of approval. “oh how I love you.” He whispered. The night was full of giggles, conversations of work, and old memories between you two like the times when he thought it wasn’t obvious he had a crush on you, when you rejected him because you didn’t know him well enough, and most importantly the cute moments you two shared every now and then.

As the time ticked close to 1, you two had wrapped up dinner, he had taken him a shower, and you two decided** to reside yourselves in bed for the night. For once in a long time, you two were finally going to sleep at the same time again and it wasn’t just him cuddling you when you were already asleep. This time, it was you who was big spoon. Playing with his blonde strands as his head rested in your chest, you couldn’t help but to sniff him. He smelt of tréseme hair conditioner but you had no issue with it because it was him… his smell.

#nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you #gn reader #nanami x y/n #brain fart #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #fanfic #fluff

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justapoet · 1 year ago

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Random dialogue prompt list

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

Distancing themself from the other because they start to think that there is definitely something wrong with them

Stuttering

"I missed you so much, I don't know why. But, I did."

"You look perfect in this outfit." "Oh."

“Tell me you did not go to a fight without me.” “I don’t need you to protect me.” “It’s not about protection-”

"Did you forget that it was your turn to grab the groceries today?" "Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd wait for you so we can go together?"

“The problem lies within the fact that I want more. That’s what scares me the most, because I don’t want to want more. But I can’t help it.”

“You said you loved me last night.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“I swear I didn’t murder anyone.”

"Who are you when you're not performing?" "Fuck. Marry me."

“You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

“I just want(ed) to make you smile.”

“I was just getting my coffee, but then I fell in love with you”

"I…I missed you." "Oh."

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Maybe it’s a good mood. Maybe it’s a manic episode.”

"Don't open your eyes"

"Goddammit, don't say that!"

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

“Too late. I’m already yours.”

“Nothing - no matter how weird or dark - could ever change the way I feel about you.”

“For once, I’m completely serious.”

“I don´t believe that you know what the hell you are doing half of the time.”

“There isn’t a single unit of thought behind your eyes.” “Of course, not. I’m looking at you. My brain doesn’t work when I’m looking at you.”

"Are we going to talk about it?"

“I’d tear down mountains and rewrite the stars just to see you smile.”

“You weren’t part of my life plan.”

“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?”

“I’m this close to resorting to physical violence if shit continues to not work out.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Say another word and I´ll shove these fries down your throat.”

“Could you even try to be nice to me today?”

“There are about thirty-five ways this could go wrong. I’d say that’s pretty good odds.”

"Are you seriously considering to go through with this complete absurd?"

"It's a miracle you're still alive." "Mom does say you're a miracle worker, yes."

"You're sick. Did the fever make you forget how to dial my number?"

"Just do it, you moron."

"My self-control is hanging by a thread right now. Please, don't do this to me."

“Hey, neighbour, I’ve never met you before but your dog just destroyed my garden."

“Well, I’m afraid that opinion’s going to change once you get to know me.”

"Ever thought of stepping outside, or have you become part of the furniture?"

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"I needed to hear your voice."

“Just to clarify: We are in a relationship, right?”

"You're the only thing I should be afraid of, and that fear died off years ago."

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”

“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen and I was not supposed to say that, I’m so sorry.”

so, hi! this is just a silly prompt list, but I'd very much like to ask you to send me asks and resquest a fic from any of them!

I'll be writing for the following couples:

Buddie (9-1-1)

Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

Nick and Chalie (Heartstopper)

Aziracrow (Good Omens)

Polin (Bridgerton)

Kathony (Bridgerton)

If you have any other couples from these universes that you might want, you can send them to me, as well. Other than Buddie (that it's not canon just yet), I like best to only write canon couples.

#prompt list #dialogue prompts #my writing #send me requests!#requests are open #percabeth #buddie #heartstopper #aziracrow #polin #kathony #bridgerton #percy jackson #good omens #911 on abc #fic requests

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unironicallytes · 10 months ago

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HELLO EVERYONE I HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY ABOUT ASTRID!!!

(Discussion and sharing of thoughts encouraged even if they're opposing viewpoints, please join me in the sandbox)

In working on Dear Brother's timeline, I've been revisiting a lot of the canon even around the Skyrim era, and I find Astrid so much more compelling and sympathetic nowadays. I used to dislike her a lot, because I was coming fresh off of Oblivion and also hadn't deep-fried my brain in lore yet. I was playing the Skyrim DBh with @orfeoarte last night and we got to talking about her again, specifically about how she's probably having a crisis of faith during the game.

Like, in thinking about the entire Dark Brotherhood questline from Astrid's perspective ... she's the matron of the last Sanctuary. They haven't had a Listener since 4E188 - that's 14 whole years without a religious leader, organizational leader, or any of the Black Hand for that matter. (As far as I can tell, Rasha sounded like a Speaker from Cheydinhal, and he lasted until 4E189 according to Cicero's journals.)

Basically, up until this point, Falkreath stayed functional due to Astrid's leadership alone, and Astrid herself went through that bearing the knowledge that their gods had probably abandoned them. That's a lot to deal with. Imagine the absolute inner turmoil of turning your back on the Brotherhood's religion, because there's no point in holding to a spiritual leader that refuses to lead. Maybe Astrid had spent a few of those 14 years mourning, wondering why she'd received no guidance; but eventually, she had to amputate that part of herself and move on because no one else was going to do it for her. She would've needed to focus on the survival of the order that was left, rather than cling to the ashes of the one that was dead and gone. Besides, the latter seems to have collapsed in on itself because the Hand couldn't even agree on how to move forward, so why would she follow their lead?

All that being said, 14 years pass, Astrid keeps it together, keeps the last remaining family together ... then suddenly out of fucking nowhere, Cicero shows up with the Night Mother herself, spouting the old ways. A bit jarring, a bit poor taste - it's not his fault, he has no idea what this Sanctuary might have been through. He hasn't interacted with family members at all for these 14 years, and he probably expected them to be exactly as he remembered them. And then, barely any time into Cicero's arrival, the Night Mother finally chooses someone, and it's Astrid's newest recruit.

Like, how dare she, after all these years of abandonment? Wouldn't that infuriate you? In Astrid's eyes, the Night Mother hasn't done shit for her. No wonder Astrid's immediate reaction and tone is basically "are you fucking kidding me" followed by "I need time to process this." It makes a lot of sense that she resists the return to tradition, both from a leadership level and from a personal level. No wonder she shatters through Tenet 1 in front of Cicero and everyone, no wonder she tries to get you removed from the equation, too.

Extremely interesting character right there!!! I am spinning her on the microwave plate-- ..... ....... ah, well, uh. I suppose the Penitus Oculatus did that already, poor choice of words.

#tesblr #dark brotherhood #skyrim #astrid #tes skyrim #headcanon #discussion

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bisexual-horror-fan · 14 days ago

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Dyad (Vincent x Reader x Bo)

Hello! It's me Bex, but it isn't my work, no this was written by the amazing and fantastic @lackingspace, America is fucked and with some worries over laws, I am taking advantage of being Canadian and hosting it here with her full permission. So please, enjoy!

Summary: A nice evening watching your art boyfriend paint....who am I kidding, its smut.

Rated: Explicit. Word Count: 2.9K. Warnings: Praise kink, Dirty talk like normal, Creampie, Cockwarming, More Dirty talk, Bo being sweet (wow), Oral, Cumeating?

Now has Part 2: Dyad II

And Part 3: Dyad |||.

You’d just finished dinner chatting with Lester about some new clients you’d gotten at the tattoo shop. There was at least one crazy story a week being a few towns over with a much more ‘metro’ clientele. He loved hearing about your work and all the weirdos that wandered in wanting just the most ridiculous things.

With him being your foster brother the two of you had a different relationship. See, when their parents had died none of them were 18 yet, so they were stuck in foster care. And of course, the system had failed to keep them together. Lucky for them though, your parents were actually decent humans.

They’d tried to house all 3, but rules and regulations had prevented it. However, a social worker your father had guilt-tripped had been kind enough to ‘accidentally’ drop a card that had the number and address to where his brothers were homed. They never came to visit him, always the other way around, which sucked, because it sounded like their home wasn’t the greatest. So it was only Lester that joined your family.

Your father loved taking him out hunting, your mother doted on him, and you grew to consider him an actual brother. The two of you could talk about anything and everything. Your father liked to say y’all got on like two peas in a pod. Which you always rolled your eyes at, but it was true, so even when he’d turned 18 and wandered off back to his brothers he still kept in touch. Visiting on some holidays and special occasions.

He was even your biggest supporter when you started your tattoo apprenticeship- going as far to volunteer as your first guinea pig. And God did he still have a terrible outline of a turtle on his ankle. You’d offered to cover it up, but he always refused and said he loved it just how it was.

So when you’d decided to visit him for a change, well, that was a surprise to everyone. You knew where the town was, could see the address clearly from the foster papers your parents had. And he’d told you plenty times that’s where they’d all headed back to. So, you’d used an old map and made your way into the town.

You’d freaked Bo out when you’d asked for Lester and then knew his name too. He thought you were a fed at first, but everything cleared up when you explained. Lester also ran in frantically scared he hadn’t made it in time when he’d found your jeep outside town, but it all worked out. You’d even picked Vincent’s brain about technique and swooned over his art. So Bo had begrudgingly accepted you into their lives.

And that’s how you’d come to be a regular occupant with these boys. At first just to visit your foster brother, but then to visit with them all. Staying a night here and there, until you’d ended up hooking up with Vincent. Then a while later Bo too. And it just became a thing unquestioned between you three.

So there you were, packing up a dinner for each of the twins who were still messing about in town. Wasn’t anything complicated-- Bo had mentioned he’d wanted chicken fried steak a few nights ago and you’d thought to be nice and make it, some gravy, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Not a very health-conscious dinner, but it was nice to cheat every so often.

Closing the last lid on your care package you grabbed them both and turned to Lester, “I’m gonna go bother the twins, Les. I’ll see ya in the mornin, k?” He nodded and waved you off, “Yeah, night, sis!” you grabbed your bag and made your way down into town.

Stopping by the station first, you found Bo and set the food down next to where he was working. He was in a good mood because he leaned down and gave you a quick peck, “Thanks, pumpkin.” you gave him a smile and turned to leave only to feel a swat to your ass, “Bo!” he looked smug as hell, “That tight ass skirt is criminal. Couldn’t help myself, darlin.” You only shook your head and headed to Vincent.

He was currently working on an oil painting and it was beautiful. Of course it was though, your boyfriend was insanely talented. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle. It didn’t even phase him as he continued on with his brush strokes. “I brought you dinner and yeah before you say anything you need to eat. I know you haven’t all day so don’t even try.”

You heard him huff in annoyance behind his mask. Vincent only had a temper when he was interrupted while in a flow. But you understood, being an artist yourself, but he could be mad all he wanted- food was important.

“I swear once you eat, you can go back to it, I have some sketching to do too. She’s gorgeous by the way, I like the lighting and use of discordance.” Not that you’d see, but Vincent still flushed when you complimented him so nonchalantly. He’d never tell you it was a painting of you. It was a close up of your torso twisting warped in pleasure-- the face distorted so you wouldn’t realize the subject. He agreed silently though, you were beautiful.

Practically inhaling the food, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank you” before immediately replacing his mask and going back to work. You pulled your sketchbook out and set to designing some of your new client’s pieces. After an hour or so, sleep had started to set in and so you laid on the mattress he had while you watched him work until you drifted off.

Vaguely waking when you felt yourself being lifted you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled closer. The hand on your back started to soothingly rub up and down once you’d gripped him. Sleep was shaking off with each step he took and you blamed his neck for smelling so good, but you couldn’t stop yourself from lightly placing kisses against his pulse.

The grip on your thighs tightening when the pecks turned to open mouth kisses. And his breath hitched when the nibbling started. He was all but ready to just have you out in the street when you’d placed the first few bites, but he restrained himself and kept moving towards the house. Groaning when you licked up his neck to his ear and moaned, “Vinny, I’m so wet. I was dreaming about riding you, ya know.”

The strangled moan that left him had you giggling, “Can I please do it when we get home? Let me sink down onto you while you fuck up into me?” He choked out a sob of agreement and power walked the last few feet home. He was on you once you’d set foot into his room.

Mask off instantly- mouth swooping down to drown you in kiss after kiss. His hands gently gripped your face as his tongue catishly teased your lips. Tilting your head he nipped at your bottom lip as you reached down and ran a hand over his clothed rock solid cock. Arousal flushed through your system like you were caught in a fire. His open mouth groan gave you the opportunity to dip your tongue in to graze the roof of his mouth and then pull back to nibble on his bottom lip. Fuck, he tasted so good. Your sex pulsed when he dragged you back in for another kiss and his tongue ran against yours in a teasing dance.

Your hands had finally gotten his pants open and down enough to pull him out. He released your mouth to cry out when you gripped him tightly at the base. He pulled back to stare down as your small hand tried to wrap fully around him, but couldn’t quite manage. His hands still on your face absentmindedly ran through your hair as you cooed, “God, you look so fucking yummy, Vincent. I’m dripping looking at you, and all that’s for me?” his tip was angrily swollen and with so much pre-cum spilled over that it was leaking down the side to pool at your hand, dripping onto your wrist.

He whined when you dropped to your knees and licked as much up in one go as you could. You showed him it on your tongue before you swallowed. Moving closer you rubbed his cock around your lips smearing any leftover before taking his tip into your mouth as you felt your clit pulse. Moaning around him as you swirled your tongue around his pulsing head. He sobbed as you gave a light suck and your hands twisted around his base. His hands still in your hair pushed you- shakily pleaded you to take more in your mouth.

You were happy to oblige when he was moaning so sweetly for you. Bobbing up and down in at a moderate pace as your hands worked him at the base until you pulled up to flick your tongue against his frenulum which had his grip tighten in your hair. Your hips were moving in want of some kind of relief, seeking some kind of pressure. Swirling your tongue once again around the tip and then giving a flat lick to the head as you pulled off.

You looked up at him pathetically, “I love when you fuck my face, Vinny, but I really wanna ride you.” Your hips arched and you pressed your breast against his knees as you mouthed the underside of his cock, “My pussys so empty and achy right now. Need your cock stretching me open.” Licking the underside from base to tip you pleaded as you rubbed your cheek against him, “Please Vinny? You’ll feel so good inside my hot wet cunt. I promise I’ll take you deep and let you cum inside. Fill me up till its leaking out of my messy hole.” the sound he made was almost inhuman. A cross between a growl, gunt, and sob as he scooped you up and rapidly set to undressing you.

Between sloppy kisses and grabbing hands the two of you were finally on his bed. You straddling him while his hands gripped your hips. You were leaning down sloppily kissing as you let you hips writhe against him. With every whirl, his cock was slipping through your folds hitting your clit just right and God did it feel so good. Breathlessly releasing his lips you leaned back and gripped him by the base.

Locking eyes as you lifted yourself to sink down had your core fluttering as you took each solid inch. Finally seating it all you took a moment to just feel. He was so fucking thick and stretched your pussy open so good. Circling your hips to rub your clit against him had you clench around him. He groaned at the feel of you tightening before he reached a hand up and pinched a nipple of your aching breast. You cried out at the pain and placed both hands on his stomach as you rocked your hips back and forth-- letting him feel your walls hug him.

He gripped a breast as you lifted your hips to drop back on him. The drag was delicious and had your head toss back a moan as you felt the fire in your belly kick up. “Oh, fuck Vincent, you feel so good in me.” he hummed in agreement as he flicked your neglected nipple. Rising to fall back down he hit so deep and fuck was it good. Arousal was coursing straight to your clit having it pulse in time with every downward stroke.

His hand at your hip leisurely thumbing circles into your skin as you picked up the pace- taking him as deep as you could with each fall. You’d slowly built up until you were bouncing on his cock babbling about how good he was stretching you open and how deep his cock hit. Both hands were back at your hip pulling you down harder as he fucked his hips up into you while watching your tits bounce.

Everything was building, you were tense, hot- like you were burning up, could feel the familiar heat of an orgasm building in your lower stomach like lead. You were so close, but you wanted his cum first, “Oh, fuck! Vinny I’m so close! Please, please I want your cum in my cunt! Please, I need it filling me up before I cum.” You sobbed out a cry when he moved his thumb to circle harshly on your clit, “Vincent, god you’re so fucking sexy. Please, I want you to fuck your cum up into me!”

He moaned when you said that and arched as he shot his thick cum deep inside you. The hot sensation of being so filled pushed you over the edge and had your moaning out a cry as your own back arched. His hips were still jerkily fucking into you and when you finally looked down you saw his cock was covered in his own milky white essence when he pulled out.

Fuck that looked so good and somehow even after your intense orgasm fire shot back down your spine- almost like an aftershock. Leaning down you gave him a long lazy kiss before you pulled away to ask, “Could you put it back in? I wanna keep your cum inside and cock warm while we fall asleep.” He ran a hand over his face and through his hair as he groaned out a single, “Fuck.” but he pulled your back to his chest and as you settled down his thigh lifted one of yours for him to slowly push his softening cock back inside you. Some of his cum that’d started leaking out helped him slip in easier.

You pushed your hips back against him, “Oh, Vincent you feel so good like this.” His hand rested low on your stomach pulling your hips to his as he came back up to kiss at your pulse before you turned your face to lock lips. He settled in behind you and after a few minutes the both of you were out like candles.

Something was coaxing your senses back awake. The light was blinding when you’d tried to open your eyes, only to shut them again. You could hear your breathing was heavy and felt the warmth in your lower stomach. A second later you figured out what it was when you felt a hot tongue lick though your folds to end at your clit with a swirl. Moaning you pushed your hips into the mouth as you opened your eyes again.

When your vision finally focused you saw Bo’s head between your legs sloppily eating you out.

You moaned Bo’s name as his tongue dipped into your center before he sucked your clit into his mouth. He released you with a pop, “Mornin, Pumpkin” You’d tried to return it, but when he dipped his tongue back through your folds you moaned again.

He spread your pussy open with two fingers to tongue fuck your hole before he pulled back, “Fuck, princess, your pussy’s tangy this morning.” You groan because fuck that thought of why was hot and you finally answered, “That’d be vincent’s cum. Somes probably still there. Asked him to keep my pussy plugged with his cock.” You thought it’d maybe deter Bo, but all he did was drag his tongue back into you and dipped in as deep as he could reach. He licked up to flick your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your legs jerk open wide and hips buck into him when he swirled and then sucked.

Taking his mouth off you, he climbed his way up until you were caged in face to face. He gave you a scrutinizing look and you caught your breath as you stare back. Snaking your Legs up to grip his hips your ankles lock around the backs of his upper thighs. Damn, he came prepared. No boxers to be found and shit he felt so good-- he has such fucking solid thighs.

He breaks your internal chatter and brings you back with, "Yeah? You let my baby bro cum all in your cunt and didn’t wash?" You shrugged sheepishly and offered, "We were tired...plus, baby bro? he’s like 2 minutes younger." Bo huffed a laugh while swooping down to your neck, "Two minutes still means younger. And that makes him the baby." Before you could retort he ground his hips against yours. Cock sliding through your folds to catch your clit had you whimper out a moan.

He licked up your neck to nibble on your ear while still grinding against you, "Wanna know a secret, sunshine? I actually prefer when you’re a dirty slut and leave his cum inside." A plus shot down to your core and settled in your clit, "Just means I get the pleasure of fucking it outta ya and filling it up with my own."

You groaned and tightened your thighs around him "Oh fuck, Bo! You’re disgusting. You like your twin’s sloppy seconds?"

He leaned back and gripped the base of his cock and pushed in your opening as he snickered, "Yeah, I do. I heard the two of you fucking last night, was hoping he’d cum inside. And besides, it don’t look to me like you or your pussys complaining." He gave a harsh trust, “In fact, with how wet you got and how hard you clenched, I’d wager you like it too.”

#House of wax x reader #house of wax x you #Bo Sinclair X you #Vincent Sinclair x you #Bo Sinclair x reader #Lacking Writes #slasher x reader #slasher x you #Bex Hosts #MWAH #I seriously loooove her work and this fic #SO happy you are all gonna get to see it again!#poly!hinge Sinclairs

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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Hello, my love!

I, unfortunately, missed your requests being open (six pages of a thesis is kicking my ass right now) but when they’re open again, is there a chance you could write another Dad!Price fic?

Since the last one felt so personal to me, would it be possible to have Price helping his daughter through Uni stress? Maybe she asks him to help her on her thesis? Lord knows I could use some inspo/assistance on mine!

Of course, if this is too late then feel free to delete it! I just wanted to pop in and drop a request off before I either, A: forgot about it, or B: missed your requests being open the next time :(

Sending so much love and hugs <3

Late Night Cookies

PAIRING: John Price x Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Stressed and still awake, you go to grab food from the kitchen before you get right back into your work. Your father talks some sense into you over a nostalgic recipe.

WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: Stress around school, grades, papers, etc. but 90% fluff and comfort

A/N: I'm so glad you sent something in, Love! So good to hear from you again!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes were blurry and your hands were shaking, the table light shining too brightly in the stillness of your bedroom as a cold breeze wafts through the cracked window.

The words swirled on your computer screen, sitting in front of you as your head slipped forward. Letters bleed into nonsense sentences that even a genius couldn’t make sense out of. There were weights on your fingers—keeping them stuck to the keys.

“And, thus,” your garbled speech slips out, reading the line you’d just written; eyes squinting as your headache flares. “A-and…thus…”

Shaking your head, you pull back and press your palms into your eyesockets, your spine flopping back with an audible crack as it straightens from hours of hunched torture. A groan slips out of your lips.

“Shit,” you growl, sighing harshly.

University, while necessary, was really your worst enemy right now—you’re constantly stressed and getting little sleep; when was the last time you’d eaten? Pages upon pages of typed research seer your eyes while closed. Only in this tight silence of your room were you able to hear the small sounds of the TV on in the house as it wafts in from under the line of your door.

Your hands slip down your face as you stare blankly at your ceiling, eyes burning with fatigue. The muffled shouts from football games play in your ears.

Humming, you push back from your desk and stand, stumbling for a second as your numb legs get prickles of electricity shooting through them. You needed food, water, even. Then you can get back into it. On the way out you snatch a blanket from the frame of your bed, wrapping it over your shoulders to preserve heat.

Like a snail, you shuffle over the hardwood before finally pushing out into the hallway with only a small bump into the door frame. Hissing, the darkness of the house was good, and before long you’d grumbled past the large form laying on the living room couch in need of any form of sustenance. So brain-fried, you end up completely missing the small questioning ask of your name as Liverpool fights off another rival on-screen. Slashing colors dance across the darkness.

The hand on your shoulder, though, you can’t miss.

“Sweetheart?” Your father’s voice brings you back from blankly nodding off into his chest as he turns you around. You jerk back with a rapid fluttering of your eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Your voice slurs, croaky, and you rub again at your cheeks with the corner of your blanket. “What’s up?”

Blue eyes blink down at you in shock at your state, small noise made in the back of the large man’s throat. “Hell’s this, then? Thought you were sleeping already.”

“Sleeping?” The tone is incredulous, a bit of sanity leaking back into your speech. You look up into your dad’s face and his tight beard; his eyebrows are curled in. “I’m not even close to being done. I can’t sleep yet.”

John blinks slowly, gaze darting from the sizable bags under your eyes to the redness of your sclera—the veins that reach for your irises like infectious fingers. His grip on you tightens.

“When’s the last time you took a break, Love?” He asks slowly, taking you by the shoulders and bending down a little. He looks concerned. “It’s bloody dark out.”

You stare and huff a sheepish, tired, smile while your dad’s expression tightens with exasperation. He blinks in disbelief at your non-answer, answer.

“Fuckin’ hell…c’mon, Sunshine, off to bed.” Your head is already shaking.

“I’m hungry.” John sighs, and the air ruffles your hair. But he relents and before you know it there’s a hand on the back of your shoulders corralling you into the kitchen. You lean heavily into your father’s side, and his fingers curl over your opposite arm.

A soft kiss is pressed to your head.

“How long have you been up, eh?” You yawn and lick your lips. Flinching when John flicks the kitchen light on. Burrowing down into your blanket, you seep in his heat like a greedy lizard. “Sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” you’re guided over to the island and plopped down into a chair. “I need to finish my work.”

He chuckles and you slouch over to fold your arms, resting your chin on them. “Well, I suppose you plan on finishing it half-asleep?”

John opens the fridge, looking over the small remnants of supper. He frowns and turns to look at you as your face lays sideways on your limbs. You blink slowly at him.

“...Maybe,” you grumble, face hot.

Your father grunts and closes the fridge, turning back around and crossing his arms.

“No more of this, eh?” He begins, glaring and infecting his words with that infectious authority. “After we get you fed, you’re off to bed. That’s that.”

You’re about to protest before your dad interrupts with a stern growl of your name. You grit your teeth and shamefully dip your head. There’s a moment of silence where the outside sounds of wind and creaking can be heard—the entire world asleep beside the father and daughter in the dim kitchen.

John tilts his head and softens his face; feet carrying him over. Stopping beside you, he places his hand on your scalp and pats you gently, rubbing his thumb into your hair. Lashes flutter, and your body sags into the counter even more. Your father kisses your head and whispers, “You need your sleep, Sweetheart. This’ll do you no good. Pace yourself, you’ll get it done—I promise, yeah?”

“How do you know?” Your voice mutters, hesitation finally showing itself. Eyes stare at the table, red and dry.

Your father chuckles and you glance back. He’s smiling in his own way, wrinkles showing and eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You’ve gotten this far. My girl’s not one to give it up. And even if you do,” he stands and pats your shoulder before he heads to the pantry. Your expression leaks slight confusion as he opens the door. “We can figure it out together. It’s not the bloody end of the world. It’ll pass.”

Your internal anxiety eases at your parent's reassurance, his casual surety more of a blanket than the one you already swaddle yourself with. The subtle anxious shaking of your fingers stills after a moment of cognition. Stuffing down another yawn, you feel a warmth burn in your heart at the words and you smile.

“When did you get all wise?” You tease, seeing John take out various ingredients as you watch. He scoffs.

“The second I got the call I was needed in hospital and had a damn daughter.” You laugh.

“Alright, then,” your sarcastic reply slips out, and John chuckles lowly. After a moment you can’t stop your curiosity, no matter how much your limbs stay heavy. “What are you doing?”

A large bowl had been placed on the counter with a dull thunk. Blue eyes darted at you before measuring cups were spawned next to the previous object.

“What’s it look like, then?” John’s finger casually points to a recipe that had been set up on the wall, a thin and damaged piece of paper with chicken scratch; stains, and crumpled corners. You blink at it in recognition.

“...Cookies?”

“You want chips or cinnamon?”

Watching with wide eyes, you clear your throat and utter, “Uh, c-chips, I guess?” John grunts and focuses with a calm face. The recipe had been a sort of inside joke between the two of you.

When your dad was off on assignment for long periods, you’d always make him a batch when he was set to leave and when he came back—a kind of soothing gesture to ease the uncertainty. To let him know you’d be alright without him here.

He made them for you when you were sick or feeling bad. You blink quickly to dispel the sudden wetness of your eyes.

“You helping?” John asks, not turning to you, as he dumps flour into the bowl. “Won’t taste right if you don’t.” A cheeky tone hits your ears.

Standing, you shuffle over and grab at the chocolate bag, digging inside and stealing a few before your dad can stop you. He gives you a fake glare, huffing under his breath before smirking to himself.

Your body leans into his side and you giggle as he rubs his beard into your head.

—

Hours later, you rest limply against your dad’s shoulder on the living room couch, empty plate on the coffee table and the TV low. You breathe softly and get the sleep you both deserve and need—of course, the work would start back up tomorrow, but it always would. Having your dad in your corner was the thing to keep you upright; your rock.

John looks down and watches you with a deep well of affection and ease. He kisses your head before his arms reach around you, lifting with no problem.

He carries his little girl, because that was what you would always be, off to bed and tucks you in. Snapping off your desk lamp with a small sigh of contentment and a low hum.

TAGS:

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seeingivy · 2 years ago

Text

3:45 am

roommate eren x f!reader

drunk eren is not your usual eren

**mini series masterlist here

content: drinking, eren is a mess, kinda suggestive content, nervous asf reader, spooning :0, not THAT proofread my brain is still fried from finals

previous part linked here

You’ve come to understand why Eren loves Wordscapes so much. The game is addicting, frustrating, and the best way to kill time at work when no one else is there. Eren’s been swamped with soccer season starting soon and Annie has practicals, which leaves you and Armin counting the minutes till you can leave work.

You’re both currently sprawled on the carpeted floor, with you scrolling through your phone and Armin lifting his papers up in the air, trying to memorize all the steps of the Krebs cycle.

“Is Eren a good roommate, Y/N? I hope you’re settling in okay.”

You shift your position to face him, still focused on the stupid level you couldn’t beat. You take a screenshot of the level which was a bad habit of yours. You wouldn’t have made it through half of the levels if Eren didn’t help you first.

“Yeah. He’s not around often because it’s soccer season, but besides that I think we’re getting along.”

He smiles, nodding in acknowledgement. You feel your phone buzz against your hand, Eren responding.

the game isn’t fun if you cheat, dumbass

i literally helped you with the game the first time i met you. repay the favor you wench!

the last word is ravine.

ty ren ren <3

shut up.

“Has he come home drunk yet?”

“No. I thought he doesn’t like to drink.”

“He only does it when the season starts. They party after every game but he’s kind of a lightweight. Worse than Annie. His old roommate mentioned it was annoying at times, so I was just wondering.”

He shifts back to his papers, whispering the steps of the Krebs cycle as you return to your game. You silently ponder Armin’s words, wondering what Eren could be like when he was drunk.

Armin can surprisingly handle his drink really well. You wouldn’t even be able to tell that he was drunk if it wasn’t for the way his face flushed pink when he did. One sip and he was in a perpetual state of blushing.

His roommate, Jean, was mildly decent, but way too energetic when he reached his peak. You distinctly remember him asking you to dance on top of a counter with him last week at Armin’s apartment.

For some reason, Armin’s political science professor Erwin had gifted him three bottles of wine for the holidays, which you all decided to crack open at dinner. You would have danced on the table with him, considering you were just as plastered as him, but Eren stopped you from doing that all together by mentioning “he won’t take care of you if you break your neck falling.”

You highly doubt that, because Eren took care of you that night, making sure you made it home with him, drank water, and weren’t nursing the worst hangover known to man when you went to work the next day.

You were slightly embarrassed but that went away entirely when you thought of Annie, who is a demon. Clingy, emotional, and horny. You can’t tell who was more embarrassed - Armin who was getting kisses pressed all over his cheeks at the dinner table or Annie who found out she did that the next day.

You’ve avoided going out all together since the beginning of the semester, in hopes to avoid seeing Nifa or any of your old friends. You had seen them at a kickback during syllabus week, which Annie had dragged you to, and decided then and there that you wouldn’t be going again. You’re not crazy about the party scene anyways.

You’re currently nestled in your couch, huddled in blankets watching TV and working on your political science essay when you hear a loud amount of pounding on the door. You glance at the clock on the wall, the time reading 3:45 am. Who the hell was pounding on your door this late?

You set your laptop down at the counter, putting your blanket down as you as you shuffle to the door. You unlock the door to find Eren leaning his forehead against the wall - cheeks pink, eyes glazer over, and the smell of beer pungent. Drunk Eren.

You’ve opened the door, but he has yet to recognize your presence. His eyes are pressed closed. You silently wonder if he’s fall asleep standing up if you left him there.

“Ren. Come inside!” you whisper, hoping not to wake up the girls living across the hall.

He flutters his eyes open, a wide smile splitting across his face at the sight of you. He pulls you into embrace, heavily leaning all his weight against you now that the wall wasn’t supporting him.

“Hi princess. Did you miss me?” he slurs, his breath tickling against the side of your neck.

Princess? Maybe he could be worse than Annie.

You reach down, securing your hands around his shoulder as you guide him into the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

You watch him lean against the wall in the kitchen, his head facing up towards the ceiling, panting at how out of breath he was. You quickly rush to fill a glass of water and bring it to his side, steadying it in his hand.

“Drink the water, ‘Ren.”

He leans over at the sound of your voice, plopping his head onto your shoulder. His hair is a mess, out of its usual hair tie and tangled over the side of his face. You reach forward, securing the loose strands by his ear, while lightly coaxing him to drink the water again.

He lifts the glass up successfully for three seconds just to drop it, drenching both of you in cold water. You clench your fists, your hands getting tangled in his hair, where they were still resting.

“Ss-orry.”

His eyes are still clamped shut, his breaths getting deeper and deeper. It’s your fault for letting him hold the water by himself anyways.

You lift him up off the wall slowly, leading him to his bedroom. Eren quickly rushes into his bathroom and you can hear him retching in the bathroom. You look around his bedroom for a clean set of clothes and a towel to help him clean up before you put him to bed. You highly doubt he’s conscious enough to take a shower, so the clean clothes and mouthwash will have to do.

As you rummage through his room, you realize you’ve never really been inside - just peaked your head in to ask him if he wanted anything for dinner or to say goodnight. His room is minimal, covered in posters and polaroids you’re certain Armin took on his camera.

You drawn to the polaroids in the dead center, clearly taken from the dinner you all had at Armin’s last week. The picture on the left is one of him and Annie, arm wrestling on his kitchen counter. The one directly on the right is one of him, Jean, and Armin, the three of them staring directly into the camera without smiling.

The one in the center is the one that catches you off guard. The picture is of you and Eren. He’s seated on the couch and you’re leaning over, your arms tangled around his necks. Your cheeks are pressed together, both of you smiling big with your eyes closed. You don’t remember taking the picture - or much of the dinner last week anyways - and make a mental note to ask Eren to remind you about it.

You can hear Eren shuffling behind you and you rush forward to catch him while he is still awake. The room is still dark, the only light in the room from his lamp that he left before leaving. He leans against you, his forehead pressed against yours as he stands up. You can smell the minty mouthwash on his breath.

“Let me sleep now.” he murmurs, his breaths uneven, but calmer compared to earlier.

“Your clothes are wet. You have to change and then I promise, you can sleep until tomorrow.” you whisper, hoping he has a little bit of consciousness left to do this.

He attempts to stand up on his own, as he takes the clothes from you. He leans his forehead directly against your collarbone again, panting heavily.

“H-help.”

Fuck. Okay. This is fine. He’s just a boy. You’re just helping him change and it doesn’t mean anything. He probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.

“Arms up, ‘Ren.”

He raises his arms and you reach for the end of his shirt, pulling it off the top of his head on the tips of your toes. You ignore the pounding in your chest and burning in between your legs at the sight of his bare torso, pressed against yours, in the center of his bedroom. He has a silver necklace on, a small key charm in the dead center.

You reach forward to examine the key, but you’re thrown off by his shoulder. You notice six identical, angry red marks on the left and reach forward to run your fingers across the marks.

“Ren. What happened?”

“Soccer cleats.”

“Let me check on it tomorrow?”

He nods, reaching up for your fingers that were still tracing the outlines of the marks. He locks his fingers in yours, squeezing twice. You take that as a sign to not talk about it and move to pull the other shirt over his head. He stops you, incoherently whispering about how it’s too hot. That’s fine. You can live with that.

Your place your hand against the top of his knee, feeling the dampness on his pants. You can’t take his pants off for him. The shirt was one thing but the pants? You just can’t.

“Ren.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Eren. Can you…take your pants off? I can’t do that for you.” you whisper, your hands shaking where they're resting against his biceps.

He nods and you turn around, hoping to maintain any sense of privacy that you and Eren had. You can hear his breathing race up again and can tell he’s moving erratically in your peripheral vision.

“You okay, Ren?”

“Fuck. My hands are shaking. Can you just help me with the button and I can do the rest?”

You turn around, Eren’s green eyes boring into yours. You try to avoid the blood pulsating in your neck and keep your eyes from meeting his entirely. You can feel your breathing speeding up now, your fingers shaking as you reach for the button of his pants.

When you finally unclasp the button and pull the zipper down, you let out a shaky breath. At that moment, Eren brings his hands up to your shoulders, squeezing hard.

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Those breathy little sounds while you’re unbuttoning my pants. Don’t. do. that.”

You swallow, murmuring an apology as you turn back around. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and sincerely hope that Eren remembers no part of this tomorrow. Did you really exhale that loudly? You hear him slip the shorts you left him on and you turn around to push him into his bed.

You lean over, readjusting the sheets around him. You watch his eyes flutter closed and turn around on your heel. Thank god. He’s asleep.

You feel Eren’s fingers clasp around your wrist, stopping you from moving any farther.

“Stay, please. Can’t sleep without you..”

You pause, staring down at his hands. He can’t be serious. He can sleep without you - he does it everyday. He’s just drunk and rambling, he won’t care if you walk away.

“Being serious. Come to bed.” he murmurs, his head pushing further down into his pillow.

Does being drunk make Eren read minds?

“My shirt is still wet from the water, Ren. I have to change.”

He leans over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you left out for him. You take the shirt from him, squeezing it in your hands as you move to the free side of the bed. He’s facing the other way, so you can sit on that side to put it on.

You can sit next to him till he’s fast asleep and then silently run back over to your room to sleep in your bed. Yeah. Yeah, he’ll probably knock out fast and then you can run back over. You quickly pull the shirt off your body, discarding it on the side.

Before you can pull Eren’s shirt over your head, you feel his fingers wrap around your wrist again, pulling on you. How many times was he going to do that?

You look over to find his green eyes, still swollen pink, twisted in concern. He reaches over, his fingers ghosting over the side of your shoulder where your bralette strap was resting. He lightly pulls it to the side, leaving the scar indented on your shoulder on full display. You can feel his fingers ghosting over the scar tissue, his hand shaking.

“What happened?”

“Oh, it’s from a few years ago. I just fell off my bike into the sidewalk.”

He nods, his fingers sliding across the scar a few more times before moving the strap back into his place. You can feel your skin burning under his touch, the words dying in your throat. He shoves his head back into the pillow, scrunching his eyes shut. You pull the shirt over your head, Eren’s smell sticking to your skin, as you push yourself under the covers with him.

You stare into the ceiling, waiting for Eren’s breaths to even out. What were you doing? Why are you in Eren’s bed, letting him run his fingers around your skin in the dark?

The thought tangles in your stomach, your chest, your throat and you reach to your side to get up and leave now - surely Eren must be asleep by now. As your weight dips to the side, you feel Eren’s arm pull you closer into him, your face nestled into his chest.

He murmurs against your hair, his arms trapping you in his embrace.

“Stop thinking. Go to bed.”

You realize quickly that any efforts you make to wriggle out of his embrace will be futile so you press your eyes closed, leaning into his touch as you fall asleep. You swear Eren presses his lips to your forehead, but you’re not awake enough to decide if it was real or not. You fall asleep, tangled in his arms, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

next part linked here

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