#i was reading back on the tags and I noticed I said “four” instead of “for”

[garyfiddlesticksdammit]

muaical art oc challenge

[sonolynn]

Blood and Cheese

request: Aemond x ( Rhaenyra x Criston daughter ) niece were married and having a son. instead kill aegon son b&c kill Aemond son. How Rhaenyra daughter try to save her son from b&c and what people react after find out about Aemond son being kill. I need this fic so bad…

summary | Daemon took Rhaenyra's words literally. "A son for a son" he said. Who knew that it would be your son?

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

tags | mentions of BLOOD, extreme grief, talk of child murdering, knifes, MORE BLOOD, infanticide, DEATH, extreme grief. mentions of murder

w.c | 3.8k

TW!!!!!!!!! | I personally have a very gruesome writing style when it comes to things like this, so if anything relating to infanticide or violence will trigger or bother you please don't read!!

____________________________________________

You loved your son. You named your son Baelon, after your mothers lost brother. Aemond knew how much you love Baelon, and he would be a fool if he said he did not love his son as well. 

Aemond tried to pride himself with being stoic and emotionally unavailable. But the minute they put his squirming son's body in his arms he felt his whole world resolve. The boy was the most beautiful thing to him, and he couldn’t believe that half of this being came from him. 

Ever since that night, Aemond became softer. When you weren’t breastfeeding, or when you got tired from taking care of the crying infant, Aemond would immediately offer to take the boy. When Bealon would cry in the middle of the night, Aemond would be up almost immediately, rushing to be at the babe's side. It took you almost forty minutes to convince him that it would be better if he slept with you and not in the nursery. 

And everything was fine until the night he killed Luke. 

Aemond would come back to the Keep late at night, still shaken from what he had involuntarily done. When he got back to his chambers, he saw his wife, his sweet, innocent wife holding his son. 

You had a smile on your face, Baelon coo’ing in your arms as he giggled and reached up to play with your braided, black hair. When you looked up, and noticed Aemond, your smile faltered. 

Aemond stared at you, and for a second his face was his normal and stoic, but the minute his son, his little Baelon, reached for him with a smile he broke down. 

That night he told you everything; He apologized profusely, and for the first time in all of Baelon’s four months of living, he refused to hold him. 

“I’ll only hurt him.” Is what Aemond told you. Your heart broke a little when you heard this, and you tried to reassure him but he wouldn’t have any of it. 

____________________________________________

“Aemond?” Aemond stopped, looking at you with a soft sigh.

“Darling, what have I told you about sleeping on the couch?” His voice was tired, full of weariness from having to deal with Aegon’s antics. You smiled softly as you sat up, holding out your hands out for him. He sighed as he sat down with you. He immediately cuddled against you, letting out a long, heavy breath as his head come into contact with your chest. 

This was how you two spent most of your time now. At night, Aemond would come to you and he would cuddle against you, yearning for that love and affection only you could seemingly give him. You two sat like this for a while, you stroking his head, and him stroking your stomach. 

“...I do regret that business with Luke, you know.” 

“I know.” 

There was more silence. It seemed that between you and Baelon, the only time Aemond’s mind was quiet now was when he was with you, in your embrace, being held by you. Not being treated as a monster, or a ruthless warrior, but rather just a man. Just your husband. 

In the distance, you heard the sound of your son’s wails. You sighed heavily, and you looked down at Aemond. 

“Perhaps he wishes for his father’s arms.” You spoke softly, watching as Aemond slowly sat up. 

“He does not.” He shook his head, leaning against the back of the couch. He avoided your gaze, knowing the somber look you were giving him. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to join me?” Aemond sat still, a look on his face that held some sort of thought before he shook his head softly. 

“I’ll see him first thing in the morning, my love.” You smiled at the thought, and you held his hand as you walked away. He watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. The wails from Baelon stopped moments later, and Aemond sighed heavily. 

Tomorrow, he thought, i’ll see him tomorrow. 

The worst part about this sentiment is that Aemond would see his son tomorrow. However, Baelon would be on a pyre. 

____________________________________________

The night started off peaceful. You sat in your rocking chair, rocking back and forth with Baelon in your arms. You smiled to yourself, holding the-now-sleeping babe in your arms. You hadn’t even registered the two men behind you. 

When one of them accidently knocked something over, you immediately jumped. 

“Aemond?” You whispered, quickly turning around. However, you were met with the face of two, unruly men you didn’t recognize. You saw the bag they held, along with the rat traps. “Who-Who are you?” You tried to stay strong, but you knew your voice gave away your fear. 

One of the men, the taller, bigger one looked you up and down. He turned to the other man and spoke softly. “Who is she?” 

“This…Is the one eyed prince’s wife.” Your breath hitched as the shorter man spoke. They both looked reasonably dirty, like rat catchers, but you knew something was wrong. 

“There are no rats in here.” The two men started to walk towards you, murmuring something about your husband underneath their breath. You had half a mind to turn and run, but they seemed to have the same idea. 

The shorter man came to you, and put a knife to your throat. You gasped, and clutched Baelon closer to you. The boy whined softly at the pressure. 

“Give us the boy, and we won’t hurt you.” The taller man spoke. You looked at him and held Baelon tighter.

“You have no business with my son-”

“Give us the boy!” The taller men yelled. You flinched, and at the sudden noise, Baelon started to cry. You looked between the men, and you felt tears in your eyes as the anxiety started to build up in your chest. 

“I-I have uhm..I have many valuable items. I have gold! I have lots of gold that I have no need for-” 

The taller man kicked the edge of Baelon’s crib and you held back a scream. The taller men started to speak to the shorter man, but the words they spoke didn’t process fully in your brain. All you saw was an open door. 

“AEM-” You started to scream your husband's name, but the man with the knife to your throat pushed the knife further and grabbed your hair roughly. You cried, and Baelon wailed in your arms. The taller man put his hand on Baelon’s head and tried to pry him from you grip. 

“NO!” You cried out, trying to pull him back, but it didn’t work. With a quick snap your boy was pried from you. The shorter man threw you back, causing you to hit your head against the chair you were previously rocking in. 

Your head was fuzzy, and all you heard was the wails of your son, painful wails that slowly died down. When you sat up, you saw the men putting the tiny head of your son in a bag. Your whole world stopped, and just as the men escaped down the hall, you screamed. 

Your chest ached, and your throat burned. You stare down at the body, slowly crawling to it as you shake your head and mutter small, inconsistent prayers to yourself. You reached out a hand, placing it on the body’s belly, rubbing it softly as if that would relieve some of the pain that was given to your innocent baby boy. 

You choked on your own tears, wishing for nothing more than your own death in that moment. Screams erupted from your throat; Horrid, painful screams followed by sobs. This pain, this all consuming immeasurable pain you wished on no one. The feeling of your own blood on your hands as you stared at the decapitated body was sickening, but you couldn’t look away. 

How could something so small hold so much blood? You thought to yourself, watching as the blood spilled from the clumsy cut. 

Alicent was the first to arrive, followed by Aemond soon after. Alicent stared at the scene in front of her, and while she resented you (seeing you as a constant reminder of Rhaenyra’s blatant lie to her), the pain she felt for you was disgusting. She backed out of the room slowly and placed a hand on her stomach to ground herself.

Aemond couldn’t step into the room. He just stared down at you, his son's body. The thought that this headless, infants body was his own son’s, his baby boy’s-

He couldn’t move. The pain for him was nothing short of paralyzing. But what broke him the most was you. 

You sobbed, violently sobbed as you placed your hands in your son's blood and tried to pull it back. As if that would fix everything. Aemond felt nauseous, seeing you so desperately cling to the idea that you could fix this. Once the realization started to settle that this was not helping, your body seemed to shut down. You laid down, holding your hands on your son's body as you sobbed. 

No words were exchanged, not knowing what to say. Aemond leaned against the door frame, mind numb as he slowly slid down the frame. He stared at nothing, his mind replaying all the times he held the boy, watched him smile.

____________________________________________

Aemond stood next to you the following day, watching as your baby boy's body was burned on a pillar. He was numb, his face pale and full of so much grief that it sobered anyone up. You were a mess. Tears and incoherent sobs escaped your throat, and you clung to Aemond. Aemond stayed still, gently holding you as if any small movement would cause the last shred of resolve to leave your body. 

As the fire burned, you buried your face into Aemond’s chest, refusing to watch. Aemond let you, holding your head softly. 

But Aemond stared. He watched as the wrapped body was consumed by the flames. He forced himself to watch as the flames consumed his son, his own retribution for not being there, for not helping you, for not holding his son one last time. 

As he watched the ashes of the pyre falter, Aemond made a promise to himself. 

He would kill Daemon Targaryen with his own hands.

____________________________________________

a/n: guys im sorry.

[munsonsfairy]

I have an ideaaa

how about a Paige x fem!reader wedding/proposal fic or headcanon??

the idea of her draft fit as a wedding outfit omfg 🤭

my peace 🕊️

omg i love this idea!! i did wedding headcanons if that’s okay!<3

content: fem reader & no physical description of reader or their wedding outfit

౨ৎ the night before, you and paige spend it by cuddling into each other while sitting on the balcony that overlooks the city.

“my wife, my wife, mine,” she whispers against your neck after every kiss. “not for another day, babe,” you’ve been reminding her since she proposed.

౨ৎ it takes her 20 minutes to leave your townhouse that night. lots of goodbye kisses have already happened that it took kk & ice to drag her ass out.

“bye my beautiful gorgeous wife!” paige yells out the window as ice drives away. she doesn’t get into the car until you are out of her sight.

౨ৎ instead of reading your vows in front of your wedding guests, the both of you decided to do it before the ceremony. as you walked towards paige, you could see her wavy blonde hair with her front pieces in braids (as always). she was wearing an all white suit. you could tell she was nervous and excited by how much she was fidgeting.

“paige?” when she turned around her blue eyes already had tears in them. she looked at you in awe and almost fell to her knees. “we can’t cry we both have make up on,” you fan both of your both eyes trying to hold it all in.

she laid her head on yours and looked into your eyes. for a moment it felt like it was only the two of you in that garden. “we’re finally doing it. my wife,” you see a tear fall from her eye as she leans in to kiss you.

౨ৎ now the vows!!!!!! 🥹

paige reached into her pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. you could see her shaking, so you squeezed her hand to remind her it’s just you.

she smiled at you and took a deep breath, “ever since i could remember, i was always told, “you’ll know when they’re the one,” and i never understood that. i never felt complete until i saw you. when our eyes met, i knew after 3 seconds that you were the one. i’m blessed with the pleasure to know someone like you.” she looked up at you and saw you tearing up. “bro if you cry, i’ll cry,” she said laughing. “okay okay! no more crying.”

she took another shaky breath, “to be able to love and be loved by you. you are my sunrise and sunset filled with the most beautiful colors. you’re my peace with the world is too loud. your love is my turning page. you are the strongest person i know and i admire to be my best self everyday. i never doubted our love and will always consider myself lucky to love and learn from you. these past four years have been my favorite movie. i promise to love every single detail of you for the rest of my life.”

after you said your vows, paige was walking up to kiss you until you stopped her. “not until we say i do!” she looked at you with shock but kissed your knuckles on both hands. she leaned her forehead on yours once more. “see you at the alter,” then watched as you walked back to the venue’s house.

she didn’t want to take her eyes off of you. just wanted to stand there and admire you.

౨ৎ during the dance, you reserved chick-fil-a as a surprise for paige. she ran to you and grabbed your face to kiss you all over. her and kk were fighting over who was going to be the first to be served. spoiler alert: you got served first since they were too busy bickering. when you were eating your nuggets, paige noticed you had ranch on the corner of your mouth and kissed it off of you.

౨ৎ once your reception was over and almost all of your wedding guests have left, you and paige danced one last dance. your heels were long gone and paige was very tipsy. she held you so close to her chest that you could hear her heartbeat. you felt the breeze against your skin and closed

your eyes. paige was slowly guiding you in a circle while humming the song.

she kisses your head and said, “my wife.”

tagging: @urantisocialgay because i know you’ve been asking for this (:

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 1, In Which You Install The Mod

FOREWORD: inspired by this post

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

***

You hesitated for a moment before downloading this “Devil Wears Nada” mod. It felt slightly inappropriate, absurd as it may sound. There was something disrespectful about making Raphael deliver his final monologue in the nude.

Well, you would have to live with offending a bunch of pixels because you do want these screenshots. You put the salt and vinegar Pringles out of the way and wiped your fingers on a napkin before committing this digital sin.

Clickity-click-click. You dragged-and-dropped the mod where you wanted it to be and launched Steam. Now to load the saved game where you made the deal with the devil and gave him the crown of Karsus… pretty much any saved game really. 

Raphael had been spared in each one of your playthroughs.

A sigh escaped you when the devil still appeared fully clothed in the game; had something gone wrong? You double-checked, only to realize that you'd forgotten to activate the mod - odd, since you clearly remembered doing so. Leaving the game, you dragged the mod back into place.

On your phone, in the Devil's Den discord chat, you informed everyone of Raphael's stubborn refusal to undress.

MAKE HIM! came the immediate reply, followed by STRIP THE OLD MAN, accompanied by raunchy gifs. Couldn't help but grin at that.

Back in the game, you loaded an earlier save file and sank into your chair to watch Raphael emerge from the flames, clothed once again. “You son of a…”, you muttered to yourself. It was getting late anyway; this would be your last attempt before calling it a day. Tomorrow is Tuesday and thus another work day. 

“It won’t be long before you come knocking at my door”, Raphael said, looking straight at you from the wide screen. This wall-breaking sequence was brilliantly executed—you had to admit it—very eerie.

Raphael let out a deep, hearty laugh, head thrown back, pearly teeth glistening in orange-red lighting. You didn’t see this animation before. They must have added it with the latest patch, so you moved in closer. 

Handsome as sin, this devil - if he asked for your soul, you’d hand it over on a silver platter.

Suddenly, he fell silent for several seconds, staring directly at you from across the digital divide. You reached for the mouse to check if there was a glitch in the cutscene when Raphael's voice sliced through the silence.

“You are quite eager to see me naked, aren’t you? Naughty little mouse,” Raphael taunted.

What the fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK!?

You recoiled in shock and slammed your laptop shut. A shriek must have escaped your lips, but you were too stunned to notice. It took a moment for your heart to settle and for you to remember what date it was today.

A quick glance over the watch on your wrist confirmed: it was the first of April. April first, two thousand and twenty-four. 

It was an April Fool's joke from the modders.

Oh, fuck. Having recovered from the initial shock, you cautiously opened your notebook, only to be greeted by the familiar "ta-ta" outro. Oh, fuck. This is some kind of really fucked-up prank. How did they get this voice line?

AI, probably. Not probably. Definitely. There was no way they could have involved Andrew Wincott.

You scanned the game screen for any other surprises, but found none. Picking up your phone, you opened Discord and began recording a long voice message - your fingers too clammy to type.

The replies came soon after.

Haha, this is so fucked up, did they really do this? Hm. I have to try it myself. RECORD IT, RECORD IT PLEASE!

You stared at the loading screen but couldn't bring yourself to replay it. Instead, you searched “Raphael naked mod April joke” and clicked on the first Reddit thread that popped up. You didn't even bother to open it; a quick glance at the preview comment – “crazy I almost had a heart attack” – was more than enough.

Enough for today.

You quickly brushed your teeth in the bathroom and changed into short pajamas before glancing at the laptop on the other side of the room, its camera eye peering at you from across the room. You closed the shutter.

“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you”, you read somewhere.

You tucked yourself into bed, phone in hand, blanket between your legs. Was it time for a quick stroll through selected Raphael / Tav bookmarks?

No. Well, maybe. The threesome with Haarlep, just a quick re-read to help you fall asleep quicker. You were creeped out, but not that creeped out. You’ve heard of such meta jokes before. Black & White did it, Metal Gear Solid did it, too. 

But still… they really should tag this sort of stuff.

Your nightly reading was progressing nicely; things were getting interesting - “the ridges of his devil cock stroking your sensitive walls” interesting. Your hand slid into your underwear, working your finger past your hair down to your clit. This scene was very well written, you could almost feel it, picture yourself spread open between Haarlep and Raphael. 

The smut got better and better right until your phone vibrated in your hand, and you dropped it on the blanket.

Unknown caller ID.

Don't answer it, came the panicked, irrational thought as it grabbed you in a chokehold. 

You stared at the screen - the call went on and on - and pushed it aside. Swiped to the right in one quick motion and heard an automated female voice:

"This call is from Europol. We would like to inform you that your identity card number has been misused. For further information please press 1."

You hung up immediately, recognizing this as one of those scam calls that had been making rounds recently. Your mum had received one too. 

Nothing to lose sleep over.

You put the phone down and turned your back to it, trying to calm down. Screw the fanfic, you were not in the mood anymore. Well, you were, but…

Another time. 

It took some time before you could relax, your gaze fixed on the blank wall in front of you, re-playing that cutscene all over again in your head, occasionally wandering to the large window looking out over the courtyard (what a pitch black night). 

Eventually, you did. 

As you drifted off to sleep, a voice whispered in your dream:

“You are quite eager to see me naked, aren’t you? Naughty little mouse”.

The silky soft voice was so lovely; it made you feel less alone. A small smile crossed your lips as you slept.

Yes, Raphael. Very eager indeed. 

Tomorrow. You’ll try again tomorrow.

NEXT: Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger

[oneofstarkskids]

"plus...he's adorable"

steven grant x reader, first meeting

warnings: slight age gap?

*not my gif*

finding your passion hadn't been a straight and narrow path. you had no idea how some people just woke up knowing exactly what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives.

in high school you played sports, but they were never something you wanted to do as a career. you recently learned that you love to paint, but it just felt like a hobby. you didn't feel experienced enough to make something of it.

you'd gone to four years of university, majoring in business because it's what your parents wanted. but you were tired. you were so tired and you weren't passionate about anything.

finally, you were sure you were ready to give up. you were in the school library, turning in some text books you'd used, when you just glanced over briefly. your eyes caught the title of a large book.

"If You Are to Love, Love the Moon"

curiosity took over and you picked it up to read the synopsis. by the time you were done, you'd picked out three more books on the subject and plopped them down in front of the librarian.

it took you less than twenty-four hours to finish all of them and you had this burning desire to know more.

which led you here, studying egyptology abroad in london, standing in the national gallery, staring at a poorly constructed pyramid of giza.

"oh bullocks!" you heard a man shout just as something crashed to the ground. you searched for where the noise came from.

your eyes landed on dark brown curls peeking out just above the counter at the gift shop.

nosily, you made your way over. as you placed your hands on the counter you cleared your throat. a man with steven printed on his name tag stood up quickly and gave you a nervous chuckle, "morning."

you suppressed your laughter, "hey there. you alright?"

"me? yeah, fine!" he said unconvincingly. "did you want to make a purchase? i personally recommend the horus figurines. you know, it's believed that he was a benevolent protector in ancient egyptian culture. plus..." he held one up, "he's adorable."

this time you couldn't help but laugh, and thought the same thing of steven himself.

"i'll take one," you said and watched as he rang it up.

he glanced up at you as he put it in a small gift bag, but quickly looked back down when he noticed you'd caught him.

you reached to grab the bag, but paused as your hand brushed his. steven was stunned by the feeling of your hand against his and didn't want you to go.

"do you live nearby?" he asked slowly. you stopped yourself from grinning at the idea of him asking you out.

"uh- because we can ship items in the future," he said instead.

you frowned, "okay. well, have a good day." you took the bag and walked off. the whole thing just made you want to go home.

just as you were stepping out into the street, you were knocked to the ground.

"oh! sorry! i'm terribly sorry, i didn't mean to do that," you heard stevens voice. you got up and dusted yourself off.

"what is wrong with you?" you asked in frustration.

he rambled, "well, many things but that's a topic for another time." you had this look of concern that made steven feel guilty. "okay i'm just going to come right out and say it."

you listened intently. "i would, would you like to- do you want to grab a bite sometime?" he finally got the words out and you giggled.

"i would love to."

steven beamed and nodded, "good. very good." he started to walk away but quickly turned back around, "actually, do you have a piece of paper?"

you searched your purse for a moment before pulling out a small sticky note and a pen. steven took it gratefully and wrote his name and number down.

he handed it to you and you noticed that it read, stev̲en with a v. the v being underlined for emphasis.

you grinned, "see you soon, steven with a v."

[thesparklingwriter]

a world of our own

“At least allow me to wake up properly first.”

tags: established relationship, fem!reader, fluff, reincarnation, zhongli is napping!!!!! how strange!!!!!

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

The god of contracts is a man of routine. There is a correct time for him to eat, a correct time for him to sleep, and it has been this way for years. For centuries at a time, he indulges himself in the comfort of consistency and routine. If you asked him about it, he would tell you that there’s a lot to be said for discipline, especially when its self imposed. But the truth of it is entirely different.

The routine distracts him from the fact that you are not around and he relishes in the comfort that comes from it. He can reminisce about you and the time you had together, while he goes about his day, without getting paralysed by the thoughts.

When you come back to him, however, after years of him waiting for you to be reincarnated, the routine seems to change. Instead of him heading to bed immediately as the clock strikes ten, you might find him waiting a little longer so that he can to drag you to bed. And even if, by a stroke of luck, you both manage to be in bed by ten, he can never resist asking you about your day and listening to you recount it in detail. Sure, he might wake up at seven in the morning every day without fail, but he often finds himself smiling at you as you sleep, and before he knows it, time has run away from him, and you’re waking up and bringing him along with your morning routine.

You would never truly know the extent of the routines Zhongli has stored in his head, and he makes sure of that, because he would never want you to change the way you live to humour him. Maybe he finds eating dinner at nine pm strange, but he’ll ignore it for you.

But when you’re out running errands on a weekend and Zhongli finds himself in a empty house, he might find himself instinctively heading to kitchen for his four o clock tea, or tempted to pick up a book as six pm draws near.

“Zhongli?” You call out, pulling the door shut with your foot. “I got the lea leaves you said we were out of,” when you don’t hear a response, you assume he’s in his study, or perhaps in the garden, so you set to putting your purchases away. But it’s strange—Zhongli always notices when you return home. He almost always comes to find you immediately. So the silence is strange. You go into your room to change, and then pass by the living room on your way to his study, and find him sat on his armchair with a book on his lap.

“There you are,” You smile, leaning over the back of the chair and kissing the top of his head softly. It takes you a second to realise that he’s not ignoring you because he’s reading.

He’s napping.

The thought makes you laugh. Never in the years you’ve been married to him have you ever caught your husband mid nap, and even though the sight is strange, it also makes sense. His posture remains as perfect as it when he’s awake, and his head doesn't even droop slightly as he breathes in and out slowly.

You pause. What do you do in this situation? You circle around the chair to face him, laughing quietly at the somewhat stern expression that graces his sleeping face. 

“Deus Auri,” you say quietly in a teasing voice. “What would the people of Liyue think if they saw you now, hmm?”

You gently cradle his face in your hand and decide that if you don’t convince him to lie down, he’ll wake up in pain somewhere.

“Come on, up you get,” you say softly, gently tugging at his hands. He opens his eyes ever so slightly, smiling when he gets a glimpse of you.

“You’ve returned,” he says.

“I have.” you reply, and he smiles a little more. “Come.”

Zhongli clears his throat as you take his book off his lap and rises to his feet. Of course, you would never truly receive the pleasure of having him lean on you even slightly, for despite his sleepy disposition, he thinks it would be rude of him to expect that of you.

“Where are we going, beloved?” He asks. His voice betrays him, the slightest edge of sleepiness audible in the way he ever so slightly slurs the end of his words.

“I’m taking you to bed.” You say simply.

“At least allow me to wake up properly first.”

You stare slack jawed at Zhongli, surprised that even in his half asleep state he can find the energy to make such jokes. He stares back at you, a devious glint in his eyes.

“That’s not necessary.” You laugh, opening the door to your shared room and ushering him in. “If you’re going to sleep, for the sake of your neck, please lie down first.”

“I had no intentions of sleeping originally,” Zhongli replies, humouring the way you fuss and fret over him and tuck him into bed, muttering questions about how an archon, someone who was entrusted to take care of a whole nation, could not take care of himself. For a brief second he thinks this is hyperbole on your part, but says nothing.

“Whether you had intentions of sleeping or not, my point still stands.” You kiss his forehead softly, and he uses the action to take your hand.

“You’re not staying.”

“I’m not. I—”

“Stay.” And maybe if your husband didn’t have such a hold on you, you might have told him that you had plans for the rest of your evening, or that you wanted to shower. You might have declined and told him to get the rest he clearly needed. But when he looks at you with those deep amber eyes, eyes you’ve stared into a thousand times yet could never get tired of, you cave.

“Ten minutes. And then I’m going back to the other things I need to do.” You reply, avoiding his gaze.

“Ten minutes,” Zhongli concedes, pulling back the covers and allowing you to pull him into your arms. His daily routine has already been thrown off for the day, so what’s ten more minutes when it’s with the person he loves?

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: hi drops this leaves again, i spent so long trying to think about how zhongli falls asleep and i've decided he doesn't drift off he just... BOOM falls asleep and he wakes up in the same way. i also dont think he'd be a napper but i think his body would get used to having a solid 8 hours of sleep so if that gets disrupted his body automatically try to get the time back somehow out of habit but basically this means no sleepy zhongli. maybe if he was ill. maybe if he was dying. maybe i will test my theory. how far would i go to test this theory? idk i feel like bringing chaos this year

taglist: @thelonelyarchon @aixaingela @medusuu

[misc-obeyme]

Worth It: Part Two

I cannot believe the response part one of this lil macaron fic got. You guys inspired me to write the smutty part two, so here it is. I am not thinking about parts three and four already. Absolutely not, that is not a thing that you just read. Honestly though I could keep going but will I? That's the real question. I do love them, so it's a maybe at the moment lol. Once again tagging @lonely-north-star as requested and also @silverrings-n-prettythings because I saw your tags on the last part lol.

Mammon x Barbatos - read part one here!

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: It's all smut!!! Okay okay but seriously, oral and biting and making out and a lil bit of hair pulling... who's giving to who? I'm not telling, you'll just have to read it to find out mwahaha.

The minute the door to Barbatos’s bedroom closed, Mammon found himself pressed up against the wall. He gasped as he felt warm lips on his neck. The bedroom was dim and Mammon couldn’t see much of anything but odd shapes. It didn’t matter. He was focused entirely on the hands that were gripping his waist.

“What task did you abandon to come here?” Barbatos asked against his skin. His voice was low and heavy, rumbling through Mammon’s veins.

Mammon pulled in a breath. “Devildom Law,” he managed to say.

Barbatos chuckled. “I see,” he said. “Too dull?”

Mammon let his head fall against the wall behind him. “Why do they gotta make us write reports?”

Barbatos hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you simply need better motivation.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he gasped instead when Barbatos bit down on his neck. His already flushed face seemed to get hotter, if that was at all possible. More importantly, he was hard as a rock and he was both excited and nervous for Barbatos to notice.

Barbatos pressed his leg between Mammon’s thighs. Mammon grabbed his arms, fingernails digging into the exposed skin, as he tried to bite back a moan.

Barbatos paused in his movements, suddenly going quite still.

Mammon tried to gulp down air for a moment, feeling like he was going to overheat.

“You should return home and finish your report,” Barbatos said, his voice mild.

Mammon whined for a moment before swallowing the sound down. “Ya wouldn’t really do that to me, would ya?”

Barbatos traced Mammon’s jaw with his fingers. “Hmm. We both know what will happen if you fail Devildom Law again.”

Mammon shuddered involuntarily. Lucifer had been especially angry with him about it last time and made quite a few threats.

“I ain’t gonna fail again,” Mammon said.

Barbatos met his eyes and Mammon saw a soft, indulgent expression there. “You must promise me.”

Mammon flushed. Barbatos still had his leg softly pressing between Mammon’s thighs and the pressure was making him crazy. He would promise anything in that moment. “I promise,” he said.

“So quick to agree,” Barbatos said, amusement laced in his voice. “Do you wish for no reward in return?”

Mammon frowned at him. “What kinda reward?”

“If you like, you can consider this a preview,” Barbatos said, pressing up just a little.

Mammon gasped. He’d had enough teasing. He couldn’t take it anymore and he suddenly didn’t care if Barbatos knew how needy he was.

Mammon tightened his grip on Barbatos’s arms and turned with him so that their positions were reversed. Now Barbatos was pressed against the wall, though his expression remained one of amusement.

Mammon slid his hands down to Barbatos’s hips and pressed himself against Barbatos’s body, meeting his lips in a deep kiss that left no question of how he was feeling.

Barbatos responded easily, opening his mouth and meeting Mammon’s tongue with just as much intensity. He pulled Mammon closer by the nape of his neck before allowing his hand to push up into Mammon’s hair. He gripped and pulled Mammon’s head back, breaking the kiss just so he could run his tongue up Mammon’s throat.

Mammon sucked in large breaths, panting. “You’re makin’ me crazy,” he managed to say. “You’re doin’ it on purpose, too, ain’t ya?”

Barbatos pushed gently on Mammon’s chest, making him walk backwards for a bit. In the darkness of the room, Mammon had no idea where he was going, so he could only trust Barbatos to direct him.

When the bed hit the back of Mammon’s knees, he let himself fall onto it easily. Barbatos was on top of him in an instant, lips by Mammon’s ear.

“You have been making me crazy for too long already,” Barbatos said, his hand running up Mammon’s thigh. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I return the favor?”

Mammon groaned as Barbatos’s fingers ghosted over his still clothed but painfully erect cock. “Whaddaya want me to do? Beg?”

Barbatos chuckled. “While I wouldn’t say it’s required, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Mammon gripped Barbatos’s biceps hard. “Barbatos,” he said, his voice gone high into a whine. “Please.”

He was thrilled to see the way a blush bloomed on Barbatos’s cheeks. Finally, he had flustered this stoic demon a little bit.

But Barbatos didn’t say anything. He ran one hand down Mammon’s chest and pulled open Mammon’s belt with the other hand.

Mammon squirmed beneath him in anticipation, nerves and impatience both bubbling up in him.

Barbatos freed Mammon’s cock from his clothes and Mammon bit his lip in an attempt to stay quiet as Barbatos touched him.

Barbatos glanced up at him. “You needn’t hold back,” he said. “No one will hear you.”

Mammon met his eyes. His senses were dulled from need and his guard was down. Quietly, he said, “You will.”

Barbatos tilted his head at this. “Is that a problem?”

Mammon covered his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassin’!”

Barbatos laughed softly. “I disagree. To be clear, I would love nothing more than to listen to you moan.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he found himself unable to speak as Barbatos put the tip of his cock in his mouth.

Mammon's hands flew into Barbatos’s hair, gripping and releasing as he tried not to pull too hard on it. But he was so overwhelmed by sensation as Barbatos proved to be an absolute master with his tongue that Mammon was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to what his hands were doing.

All concerns he had about being embarrassed flew out the window when Barbatos took the full length of his cock into his mouth.

Mammon arched his back and moaned. He had to cover his face with his arm because it was too much. He was sure Barbatos was too busy to notice anyway.

Mammon knew the second Barbatos lifted his mouth away that he had miscalculated. He should have known that Barbatos noticed everything.

And indeed, he felt a hand grip his arm and pull it down gently from his face.

Barbatos was looking down at him with a soft smile. “Please don’t cover your face,” he said.

Mammon couldn’t reply, only blushing more and wishing he could go back to covering his face.

Barbatos pulled on his arm again, making him sit up on the edge of the bed.

To Mammon’s great astonishment, Barbatos knelt between his knees and looked up at him. Barbatos reached up to cup Mammon’s cheek.

“I like to see you,” Barbatos said simply.

And then Mammon’s cock was back in his mouth and Mammon had to hold onto Barbatos’s shoulders for dear life. He moaned again and leaned forward, his hands spasming and twisting Barbatos’s shirt.

Barbatos looked up at Mammon’s red face through his bangs and when Mammon met his eyes, he almost came on the spot. He was overwhelmed by seeing his own desire reflected there.

The pleasure built as Barbatos concentrated on his task, his mouth tight and hot and wet, his tongue pulling the sensations from Mammon. He tried not to buck up his hips in response, but it was difficult.

Barbatos didn’t seem to mind and he never broke his pace, no matter how much Mammon moved and squirmed and moaned.

Mammon twisted his fingers harder into Barbatos’s shirt as he felt himself reaching the edge. He suddenly couldn’t stay quiet even if he wanted to.

“Ah,” he panted out. “B-Barbatos-! Ahh, I’m- it’s- I can’t-!”

Barbatos did not stop, did not slacken his pace, only continued on until Mammon was babbling incoherently. He couldn’t form words anymore, only letting out a cry as he came, his hips lifting involuntarily.

Mammon bent over Barbatos’s head, panting, his hands moving from Barbatos’s shoulders to his face.

Barbatos looked up at him and Mammon pulled him up just enough to kiss him. He could taste the salt of his own cum on Barbatos’s tongue. He bit down on Barbatos’s bottom lip, needing to taste more of himself.

Barbatos indulged him for a moment until he pulled away, leaving Mammon feeling empty and almost cold.

Mammon let out a low whine.

Barbatos chuckled. “You are quite needy, aren’t you?”

Mammon blushed and frowned. “L-like ya didn’t know that already…”

“Indeed, I have always been aware of your personality,” Barbatos said. He reached up and ran his knuckles down Mammon’s cheek. “You are greedy, as am I.”

Mammon stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But then Barbatos got to his feet and pulled Mammon up to his. Mammon nearly tripped as his pants were still halfway down, but Barbatos kept him upright. He yanked Mammon’s pants back up, even buckling Mammon’s belt for him.

“What-?” Mammon said.

“You must return to the House of Lamentation now,” Barbatos said. “I do believe you left a report unfinished.”

Mammon grabbed Barbatos’s hands. “But what about you?”

Barbatos smiled at him. “We will have plenty of time to continue when your report is done. Is that not enough motivation to complete it quickly?”

Mammon glared at him. “You’re messin’ with me, aren’t ya?”

Barbatos pretended to look offended. “I am merely looking out for you, Mammon. After all, if Lucifer follows through on his threats, I fear you would have to spend quite a bit of time recovering. You would be unavailable for… other activities.”

Mammon huffed. He stepped closer to Barbatos, leaning in to nibble at his ear for a moment before saying in a low voice, “I know ya think it’s fun to tease me like this, but ya better be prepared for what I’m gonna do when I’m done with that report.”

To Mammon’s immense satisfaction, Barbatos shivered ever so slightly. He straightened Mammon’s jacket. “Please finish your work quickly.”

Mammon practically ran home. Every single one of his brothers was confused about the way he locked himself in his room to work on his Devildom Law report. They speculated among themselves if maybe he was sick. Only Lucifer seemed unconcerned.

worth it part one | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[slafkovskys]

When Luke is about to get back with angel and all that he gets into a accident and No one tells angel and she needs up being so mad and driving to the hospital

warnings: mentions of hospitals/emergency rooms, injuries, accidents, and angst

the lady behind the desk looks bored as she approaches, but her eyebrows raise when she spots her protruding bump and the worried expression on her face. she straightens up in her chair, “how can i help you, honey?”

“i’m here to visit someone,” she clears her throat, “luke hughes, if he can have visitors.”

the woman, barbara as her name tag reads, lets her face fall as she places her hand over her mouse, “i think he’s already got a visitor, honey, but let me double check for you. name?”

she repeats her name and lets her eyes drift around the waiting room. for it to be almost midnight on a saturday night, she was surprised to find the place nearly empty. a couple coughs sound and a few grunts follow, but it’s barbara tapping her nails on the glass in front of her that get her attention again. she sends an apologetic grin, “sorry.”

“that door’s gonna make a clicking noise and when you hear that, you can go on through. he’ll be in room two,” she points to a door immediately to her left and the younger girl thanks her before stepping to the side, “next!”

she hears the click and pulls on the handle, stepping into the busy emergency room. she finds room two around a few corners and timidly knocks on the wall. she swallows a lump in her throat as a raspy voice calls out, “come in.”

she lets a beat pass, then two, before she pulls the curtain to the side and for the first time in months, she’s face to face with him. he looks different. besides the shocked expression that takes over his features, his eyes are sunken in like he hadn’t slept in days. maybe even weeks.

she takes note of his leg being elevated and wrapped in some kind of gauze as she lets the curtain fall back in place behind her. now, they were alone. he opens his mouth, closes it, then it opens it again, “it’s really you.”

“yeah, luke. it’s really me,” she adjusts her bag on her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest, staring at the boy, “what happened?”

“i- i was being stupid. duker and i were wrestling on top of a pong table and i slipped. tried to catch myself, but landed wrong on my foot.”

she nods, “you’re going to be out for a while, then?”

“four week minimum depending on healing. i’ll be on bedrest for a few days they said, but no surgery,” he sends her a soft smile and she hums, mouth still set in a hard line. he tries not to look at her midsection and the way it was protruding against the waistband of the team issued michigan sweatpants she was wearing. he could’ve sworn they were his almost as much as he could’ve sworn that there was no way that she was only five months along. he sees the two bands on her finger and she must catch him staring because she quickly hides her hand with other arm. he holds his tongue and instead of spitting something about how he already knew about what his brothers had asked, he instead utters, “did duker tell you that i was here?”

“your mom texted jack. he was taking a shower, but we had been looking at things on his computer for the new house-” she sees his mouth twitch and she truly hopes that she wasn’t one who had just informally given him an eviction notice while he was in the hospital, “and i saw the notification come through. i just wanted to make sure that you were okay and you are so-”

“you’re not staying,” his voice cracks and she shakes her head, “angel, please-”

“i saw yasmin’s car out front, luke. i don’t think you need me here.”

[preciouslandmermaid]

of songbirds, swords, and spice

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tags: slow burn, friends-to-lovers, trauma, eventual smut, angst, humor, canon-typical violence, found family, polyamory, falling in love, POV multiple, reader-insert, action/adventure, past abuse, eventual romance, touch starved, PTSD, mentions of slavery/forced labor, battle couple, devil fruit user reader, hurt/comfort, mulit-chapter fic (other tags to be added)

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️ Masterpost

summary: You've performed at Le Cupidon Doré, your "grandmother" Estella's business, for the past four years. Every full moon, you step onto stage and enchant the patrons and collect their hard earned berry. Tonight is no different. It isn't.

Until you realize another devil-fruit eater is in the crowd. Fate, as you've learned, has a bad habit of mucking things up just when you were starting to get comfortable.

You closed your eyes as Kinari brushed makeup across your face in delicate, teasing strokes that threatened to illicit an ill-timed sneeze. Backstage was a mess of feathers, and perfumes, and cluttered vanity tables, shining bulbs of light to illuminate every stroke, every line, every dust of color. The other performers moved like fish swimming through the iridescent streams of fabric. The chaotic, yet organized energy was familiar. Almost comforting. Everyone gets like this before a show, your lips twisted wryly, it’s as if we don’t do this night after night! There were a few amateurs backstage, but Estella wouldn’t let them perform because the full moon show was reserved for the best of the best.

“Still….” Kinari drawled the word out and her pink box-braids fell across her smiling face. “I think you’re brave.”

Brave. Right. You stopped using words like ‘bravery’ and ‘chivalry’ years ago. You and Estella’s long-running arrangement wasn’t brave, but it was clever and you’d rather be smart than brave. Madam Estella said brave people were fools half the time and the rest were martyrs. Instead of saying this to the young artist, you replied--

“You’re too kind, Kinari.” You reached for the earplugs on your vanity and pass them to her. “Don’t forget to wear these tonight.”

“I won’t,” she replied, sing-song and light. She selected two outfits from the rack and held them aloft for you.

“Whoo-hoo! Look at this place!” Luffy threw his arms into the air, “it’s got a buffet!”

There’s nothing Zoro could say to stop his captain from barreling toward the buffet and heaping food onto his plate. He glanced around the finely decorated establishment. Nightingale Island wasn’t much to look at, but the locals talked highly of ‘Le Cupidon Doré’. When Luffy heard ‘all you can eat’, well – there wasn’t much argument to be had about where the crew was going next since they were officially resupplied.

“Tacky,” Nami said, pointing her fork at the smiling cherubs decorating the pillars, “and probably not real gold.”

Zoro rested his elbow on the back of booth and ordered a drink. The booze was cheap here and that’s decent enough for him.

“It’s no Baratie, but it has its charms…” Sanji said.

His blue eyes scanned the guests and staff. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in gold and white and wore elaborate headpieces that ranged from spokes covering half their heads to intricate swooping designs that appeared like twisted halos. Their cheeks shone with glitter. They bobbed and weaved, a practiced ease and gracefulness to their movements that reminded Zoro of sword fighting.

The tables created a half-moon around the circular stage. But two rows of chairs clustered next to the stage were without tables and labeled ‘VIP’. They were completely packed and he doubted even Luffy could fit between the bodies.

“Your drink, sir.” The waiter dropped his head low and Zoro noticed something inside the waiter’s ear. Why are they wearing earplugs? He frowned, brought his glass to his lips, and abruptly stood.

Luffy dropped his stacked plate onto the table and its’ weight upset their drinks. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta check something.”

He circuited the dining room, dodging Usopp carrying his full-plate, and confirmed his suspicions. All the waiters are wearing earplugs. Weird. Why would a place that caters to nightly performances have staff wearing earplugs? The establishment wasn’t large so it’s easy to find their table again.

Luffy tore into a drumstick and looked up at Zoro. “Find anything cool?” He asked, chewing.

“Something’s weird,” he said, “all the waiters are wearing earplugs.”

Luffy shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe this place gets really crazy!” His dark eyes brightened.

But Zoro wasn’t mollified by Luffy’s response. Their luck fluctuated from bad, to shitty, to worse with a few good days peppered in. They were on a winning streak with the grand line map in their possession and a functioning ship, but how long would that last?

“Maybe all the singers suck and we wasted berry by paying the door fee,” said Nami and Zoro tilted his chin in consideration.

“Aw, come on!” Usopp wiped grease from his mouth. “Look at this place. It’s packed. There’s no way the show is bad. It’ll be fun.”

The lights flashed, signaling the start of the show, and Zoro leaned into the cushions. He hoped Nami was right. He hoped this was a terrible show and that was why the waiters wore earplugs. Maybe he could rip pieces of the tablecloth and stuff his ears too.

An elderly woman rolled her wheelchair onto the stage.

“Tonight is the full moon,” she said, her voice as clear and bright as icicles, “and as our regulars know, we have a special performer on nights such as these.” The crowd muttered in agreement and clapped. Luffy joined them, hollering alongside the eager guests, although Zoro couldn’t understand why he bothered. This show wasn’t going to be anymore special because it was performed on the full moon.

Sanji sat up straighter. “Should we try to get closer? I’d hate to miss anything.”

“We’re not getting closer.” Zoro scowled.

He replied, “I wasn’t talking to you.” Sanji looked longingly at Nami. “Did you want to get closer?”

Nami gave him a thin smile. “I’m good.”

“Listen closely and open your hearts,” the elderly woman said, “and enjoy!”

Her wheelchair edged backward into the darkness and a shower of white petals fell onto the stage. A chrous of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ rose above the din of clinking plates and silverware. A woman stepped onto the stage and Zoro refilled his sake. He didn’t get why this was such a big deal. It’s stupid, he thought, scowling, all this excitement for one woman? He glanced at the stage. The performer was wearing a long, flowing dark blue robe and skirt. The details on the flowing sleeves, robe, and skirt depicted a semi-translucent white stag alongside large pale lilies, petals, and clouds of mist.

“She’s beautiful,” Sanji mutters.

The sleeves billowed and moved like the rolling ocean waves as the performer gripped the microphone. Zoro looked away, uninterested.

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself, before the first lines of the song spilled like honey from your lips. No music accompanied your voice. There was no need for it. You opened your eyes to the dazed and captivated crowd. The VIP section was practically falling out of their seats and onto their knees before you.

You sang a beautiful and entrancing melody, a song of soft and gorgeous serenity. The lyrics weren’t as important as the rhythm and intention. A fast-paced, intense song often inspired anger or excitement. A slower, dreamier song like this one lulled the crowd into complicity and adoration. You spent nine years perfecting your craft and the last four running this business alongside Estella. You knew what worked and what didn’t.

“Sanji!” someone yelled from a table, “you’re gonna drool on my plate.”

Another devil-fruit eater. You squinted toward the table, though it was hard to see due to the spotlight blanketing everywhere, except for the VIP section, in shadow. For whatever reason your voice didn’t affect other devil-fruit eaters like yourself. Luckily, it didn’t matter for tonight. The boy in the straw hat was safe. Only the VIP section was targeted by Estella’s staff to have their pockets checked and liberate them of extra berry.

“Hey, wait a minute--” straw hat leapt to his feet. “What’re you guys doing?” The waiter holding a man’s wallet froze. Shit. He’s noticed. You stepped from the stage and your flowing robes dragged behind you like silk water. The spotlight followed you as you approached the dining table.

Your gaze slid over their astonished faces. A tangerine haired woman dropped her fork onto her plate. A well-dressed blonde man had one hand pressed to his chest – as if you struck him in the heart.

“Wow…” a lean man with a chestnut bandanna rested his chin in his hands. “You’re incredible.”

“Usopp?” Straw hat waved his hand in front of the man’s face. “Blink, Usopp! Blink!”

A moss-haired swordsman held the rim of his sake cup against his lips, but wasn’t drinking, like he’s frozen in time.

The front doors burst, “show’s over!” A pirate wearing an outfit of scarlet and dark crimson stood in the doorway with his pistols drawn. “The bloody bandits are here for their due.”

masterpost // > > next chapter

[innxrvision]

So long - pt. 1 𒂭

part 1 of 3 ------------𖦹 tags: james hetfield x reader, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, bet, 80s james, a little angst if you squint, more tags to come in future parts ♱ a/n: i have no idea of what i'm doing actually. i never wrote anything and english is not my first language so there'll be probably a lot of mistakes, but after reading too many fanfics I simply ran out of content and also the community has been a bit dead for awhile so here's my humble contribuition to the cause (the cause being thirsting over james hetfield). anyway, this was supposed to have only one part but i felt it got too long so i chopped in half, i'll post pt 2 as soon as i can! meanwhile, i would be very happy with any criticisms or suggestions. if you find any language mistakes please please correct me, i'll be very thankful! also, i have no idea of how to work this app out 'cause all i've been doing all my life is liking and reblogging stuff so bear with me please!!

𖦹 part 1 𖦹 part 2 𖦹 part 3

You knew you fucked up by showing up late to their gig, but in your defense, it wasn't your fault that your boss choose this day of all days to get you stuck at work.

"Well, at least I showed up!" you thought to yourself, but the cold look James gave you when he finally spotted you at the crowd wasn't so forgiving.

After the last song, you rushed to the backstage, wanting to say hi to your friends. The place they were playing today was pretty small, but the crowd was buzzing with energy and the entire show was great.

Before even entering the door that led to the small and thrashed dressing room you could hear the excited voices of the four guys. First, it was Kirk who embraced you in a thrilled and sweaty hug, then Lars, and finally Cliff. You chatted briefly with them before finally going towards James, who was pretending to not notice you while fixing something in his guitar.

You could only see his back and the messy and wet blonde hair covering his lowered face. You knew he was mad, of course, he was your best friend for years and a look was all that it took for you to get how bad the situation was, but at the same time, you couldn't understand why be so mad if, in the end, you showed up anyway.

"Hey, don't be mad at me..." You said softly, touching his shoulder to make him recognize your presence.

In response, James just rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, leaning his guitar against the wall.

"You said you would be here on time!" He complained, his expression already revealing that there was nothing you could say to convince him, but your stubbornness wouldn't let it go, of course.

"It's not my fault! I got stuck at work... What did you want me to do? I tried my best, alright?" You wanted to sound a bit more gentle, but being tired after a long shift didn't help your nerves much. You sighed, already slightly annoyed.

James crossed his arms, his gaze falling hard on you as he spoke.

"You make it seem like you don't have time for your best friend."

"Don't be unfair, I always come to your gigs and always hang out with you!" You gestured frustrated. "Sorry that I've got stuck at work today, it's not like I wanted to be late!" It was hard being reasonable when both of you were tired and stressed and you did your best to not raise your voice too much, as it could worsen things even more.

You looked around the room, checking to see if the other boys were paying any attention to your little argument, but thankfully Lars had already left the room and Kirk and Cliff seemed too absorbed in discussing something that you assumed related to the show.

"Maybe if you got the balls to look for a better job instead of working at that cheap dinner you would've showed up on time today!"

Your mouth opened in shock as you heard James' harsh words, it was clear that he was already worked up and your expression instantly turned cold.

"Now you went too far." Your voice carried a mixture of sadness and anger that made James regret his words quicker than he thought he would. "Sorry that my job isn't good enough for you, rockstar, but I can't afford to go around playing music just like you do, I actually need the money." With that you turned your back, not interested in hearing anything from him anymore, and exited the room, not even bothering to say bye to Cliff and Kirk who now looked at each other in confusion. It didn't help that now you also felt embarrassed that they heard your stupid argument.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that!" You could hear James' voice saying from inside the room, his anger now turning to guilt as he realized the impact of his words.

You just kept walking until you reached out outside of the building and stopped by a wall, resting your back against the cold concrete and searching up your pockets for your pack of cigarettes and your lighter.

With the cold breeze of the night, it took a few tries for you to successfully light up your cigarette and when you took the first drag you heard some footsteps approaching. You refused to look toward the sound, just kept doing your own thing and looking down until you saw a pair of dirty white sneakers stop right next to you.

James took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking, his raspy voice gentle and sincere.

"I'm sorry about what I said inside, I didn't mean any of it, I was just angry 'cause I really wanted you to be there for me tonight... You're my best friend and I care about you."

"It doesn't seem like you care much." You scoffed in response.

"I know I messed up and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you." You heard him sigh and pause for a moment, probably searching for the right words. "You're not just any friend to me, you're my best friend." He added.

"Then why did you say that?" You asked crossing your arms, the cigarette still dangling between your fingers. "If I'm not good enough for your 'metal band lifestyle' then whatever, just don't go around saying I'm what I do with my life is not worthy." You sighed and took a drag before lowering your voice, your tone slightly more gentle now. "I work hard, y'know? Sorry that I was late once, at least I came!"

He took a deep breath once again and ran his hand through his hair, you took this opportunity to gaze at him for a moment. You knew your anger couldn't last much longer, it has always been like that.

"It's not about my lifestyle and it's not about your job, I was just being a jerk. I got too caught up in my anger and..." He trailed away. "C'mon... I'm really sorry."

You looked away and took another drag, you knew you wouldn't hold a grudge for that.

"Whatever." You muttered. "It was a good show." You added after a moment of silence, it was your peace offer.

Even without looking at him, you could sense his smile opening up, whenever he smiled the whole place would light up.

"Thanks." He said. "Can we just forget about everything that happened earlier and go grab a drink or something? I'll pay." He sounded hopeful again and you knew this was his way of making things right with you.

You nodded and flicked your cigarette off, stepping on it.

"Sure, let's go."

There was a faint smile on your lips and in response to that James smiled even bigger, he put his arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards a nearby bar.

"Great! Let's have some fun just you and me and make up for everything that happened tonight!"

"What about the equipment and the guys?" You ask, suddenly remembering their existence.

"Don't worry, Cliff's gonna get my stuff and bring it over to his place, I told 'em I would probably not come back." He answered, entirely back to the laid-back personality you were used to.

"Right." You hummed in response, just letting him guide you as he started chatting about today's crowd excitedly.

[punkshort]

The Contractor

Summary: Joel joins you at work to help fix some things around the greenhouse.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe but can be read stand alone, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI)

Word count: 3.4K

January 2006

The sun was just beginning to rise, bringing on the start of another frigid winter morning as you and Joel made your way down the street towards the greenhouse. Every time you exhaled, you saw your breath puff out and disappear with the bitter wind. Joel carried his thermos in one hand and a toolbox in the other, seemingly unfazed by the blustery conditions as he took a sip of coffee. By the time you reached the greenhouse, you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the biting wind whipping around you.

You gasped with relief when you finally entered the warm and humid building. It was a treat to work in the greenhouse in winter, but you always paid for it during the summer.

"You're so sweet for spending your day off helping me," you said to him as you hung your outerwear on the hooks by the door.

"This is the kinda stuff I like doin'," he replied, picking his toolbox up from the floor after he shed his coat. "The fact it's for you makes me like it even more."

You gave him a smile and a quick kiss to show your appreciation. "Follow me, I'll show you the two benches that are broken. And I was thinking if you have time, maybe you could build me a small shelf so I could put all my fertilizers and spray bottles away."

"Whatever you say, ma'am," he said, giving the back of your head a two-finger salute as he followed you down the long aisles toward the back of the building. You led him over to the last row of benches that were void of any plants due to a broken leg on one and a buckling middle on the other. He crouched down to take a look at the underside of both to assess the damage, then stood.

"I can fix 'em, no problem," he told you. "Just need some two by fours to stabilize 'em."

"Oh, Carl brought some wood from the stables yesterday. Will this work?" you asked as you led him past the small, enclosed office space where the wood was piled in the corner.

"Yep, that'll do," he said, leaning down to pick up a few pieces. You watched him for a moment as he dropped the wood unceremoniously on the floor next to the broken benches before he lifted one onto its side, then moved it again so it was upside down with a grunt.

You wandered into the office and sat down at the metal desk, reviewing your notes from the days prior and looking at your schedule for the week ahead. You were busy logging the harvest numbers for potatoes when you realized the noise Joel had been making stopped. You turned to look out the office window and saw him shrugging his flannel off, tossing it onto the other empty bench, leaving him in a plain grey tee.

You sat, entranced, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before shoving his glove back on. He bent over to continue hammering some nails into a piece of wood, his shirt riding up and exposing a small sliver of his back.

You decided you could do your notes later and it might be a good time to plant some seeds, instead.

You stepped out of the office, wrapping an apron around your waist to protect your clothes from the dirt. Your eyes raked over Joel's body as you passed him, noticing the back of his neck had begun to collect beads of sweat.

Standing about ten feet from Joel, you pulled a marker out of your apron to scribble the names of herbs on some tags before you got your hands messy. Your gaze traveled over to Joel when you heard him grunt. He was flipping the bench back upright to test his work. You paused, watching the muscles in his arms flex with each tug, his jaw tense as he strained from the effort.

He sighed once he got the bench upright and shook it roughly, testing its strength. He seemed pleased because he shoved it back against the wall. He was about to turn his attention to the other bench when he noticed you hadn't moved in a while. He looked up at you, and you quickly came up with an excuse for staring at him.

"Do you need some water?" you asked, your mouth dry and your eyes unblinking as you tried not to focus on his sweat beginning to soak through the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, oblivious to what was happening to you. When you moved, you could feel the slick of your arousal pooling in your underwear, rubbing against your sensitive skin with each step.

You grabbed his water bottle and brought it over to him, holding it out and noticing he was panting a bit from the heat and the physical effort it took to do his repairs.

He nodded at you before removing his gloves and unscrewing the cap, tipping the bottle back, his face angled straight up towards the ceiling. You watched his throat as he drank, his Adam's apple bobbing under a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed roughly, unable to look away and trying to resist the urge to run your tongue along his neck. When a small drop of water escaped from the corner of his mouth and slowly made its way past his jaw and down his throat, you had to bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from audibly moaning.

"Am I disturbin' you?" he asked, his eyes focused on screwing the top back on his water bottle.

"Not at all," you assured him, leaning back against a barrel of rain water.

"I shouldn't be much longer. This one'll be quicker to fix, and a small shelf won't take much time."

"Mhm, that's fine," you said distractedly.

"Somethin' the matter? You feelin' alright?" he asked you, his brows furrowed. "Your face looks hot."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you considered your options. It was just supposed to be you working today, but that didn't necessarily mean someone wouldn't pop in unannounced. You squeezed your thighs together and crossed your arms over your chest as he waited for your answer.

"I'm fine. It's just hot in here today," you told him, wiping some sweat from your neck. His eyes narrowed as he watched you shift your weight, and he began to connect the dots.

"You sure that's all?" he asked lowly, pinning you with his gaze.

"You know, I've never actually seen you work," you told him, ignoring his question. "I never came to see you when you worked on the wall, and before, I only ever saw you at the office."

He took a couple steps towards you, and you could feel your pulse quicken. He casually leaned against a rain barrel next to yours, the heat behind his gaze growing when he noticed your chest rising and falling faster than usual.

"Yeah, suppose that's true," he replied, inching closer. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up again. "And what'dya think of my work?"

Your lips parted as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, his large body crowding yours against the barrel. He was so close now you could smell the sweat on him, and it was making you dizzy. You tentatively reached out to thread each pointer finger through his belt loops.

"I think I'm starting to realize why you're so good with your hands," you whispered right before his mouth crashed down on yours.

You yanked on his jeans, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist tightly. You greedily opened your mouth against his and slipped your tongue past his lips, tasting the remnants from his coffee earlier that morning. He turned your body, walking you backwards towards the office door while your fingers slid up from his belt and skirted under his t shirt.

Your fingertips left trails through his sweat over his soft stomach and up to his broad chest, moaning into his mouth when you finally felt the old desk hit the back of your legs. You wiggled yourself up to sit on top of it without breaking contact with Joel, your hands still dancing over his skin.

Joel lifted a hand from your waist to grip your jaw, opening your mouth wider as he hungrily licked behind your teeth, desperate to taste you. You tipped your head back, gasping for air while he nibbled at your jaw, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you close as he made his way to the pulse point thrumming steadily against your skin, his lips sucking a mark against your throat.

The ache between your legs was unbearable. You felt yourself clench around nothing while he ran his hand up the front of your shirt, tugging the cup of your bra down so he could roll your sensitive nipple between his fingers, eliciting a low groan from your throat.

"Let's go home," he said, his words muffled since his lips were still locked onto your neck.

"No," you whined. "Can't wait." You leaned your head forward, causing him to lose contact with your neck, and pressed the tip of your wet tongue against the warm skin on his collarbone, tasting his salty sweat as you slowly dragged your tongue all the way up his throat, just like you wanted to do all morning.

"Fuck," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as you reached for his belt. "Here?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers fumbling for a minute before you finally got the buckle undone. You landed on the button of his jeans when his hands stopped you.

"You sure? Door's unlocked," he mumbled, but he eagerly undid his jeans for you anyway. You slid down from the desk and sunk onto your knees in front of him, giving the pantlegs of his jeans a couple tugs down so his hips and upper thighs were accessible.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were parted as he panted lightly from the excitement. You slipped your fingers inside the opening of his boxers to free his throbbing erection, already dripping a bead of precum at the tip.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you asked him, your eyes fixed on his cock, gently stroking up and down, committing to memory the noise he made and the way he twitched in your palm. You flicked your eyes back up to his and you saw him gulp.

"Eyes on the door, if you're so worried about it," you told him, then leaned forward to lick a stripe from his base all the way to the top, your tongue scooping up the wetness collecting there. He let out a shaky groan when you wrapped your mouth around his engorged tip, swirling your tongue around as you slowly eased him into your mouth inch by inch until you were sure you couldn't take any more.

"I ain't watchin' shit when I got my cock down your throat," he said through clenched teeth. "Whole town can walk in for all I care."

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile as you pulled back. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and used your other hand to balance yourself on his thigh as you leaned forward again, taking him as far as you could and flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. Once you established a rhythm, you picked up the speed a bit, pumping and twisting your fist as you moaned around his cock. You caught on quickly that the vibrations from your voice made a difference when he reached a hand down to get tangled in your hair and his hips began their shallow thrusts into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as he watched you hollow out your cheeks to form a tighter seal around him. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried to take him deeper. When you looked up to meet his gaze and he saw a single tear slide down your cheek, he pulled your head off him abruptly.

"Gonna make me come if you keep goin'," he said with a grunt, palming himself as he took in the sight of you on your knees before him.

You stared up at him, your mouth open and panting, saliva covering your red, swollen lips, and your hair a mess from his fingers.

"Up," he commanded while kicking the door to the office closed.

"There's a window in the door, anyone could still see," you told him as you yanked your apron and jeans off.

"I know," he said, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his knees. You pressed your palms flat against the desk and jutted your hips back, looking at him over your shoulder as he ran his cock through your soaking wet folds.

"Then why bother closing it?" you murmured, your eyes sliding shut when you felt him notch at your entrance. His hands found a home on your hips as he pushed forward, giving you only a few moments before he sheathed himself inside you completely. You let out a strangled cry, and tipped your head back, finally able to feel some relief from the ache that had been building all morning.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you sobbed, your voice echoing in the small room. He snapped his hips into you steadily, curses and moans mixed with garbled versions of his name falling loudly from your lips.

"That's why," he grunted before biting your earlobe, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. "No one gets to hear these sounds except for me."

You fell forward onto the desk, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your cheek pressed into the cool metal and your fingers scrambled to find the edge of the desk, but Joel's thrusts had pushed it flush against the wall. All you could hear was his sweat soaked skin slapping against yours and the metal legs of the desk squeaking on the concrete floor.

"What got my girl so worked up today, hm?" he asked you, his palm traveling under your shirt and up your spine, gently holding you flat against the desk. You moaned quietly as he repositioned himself behind you to thrust even deeper inside your slick cunt. "What happened to make you wanna drop to your knees on this dirty floor and suck my cock?"

"Joel..." you wailed into the crook of your arm, trying to muffle your sounds. He yanked your arm away and twisted it so it was pinned to your lower back, his hips slamming into you so hard that your jaw was permanently hung open in a silent scream.

"Don't do that," he warned you, and you were sure you would have bruises against your hips from the edge of the desk tomorrow.

"Don't fuckin' hide those - sounds - from - me," he growled, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. You could feel your release approaching, the warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach and the flush creeping up your neck. You were about to warn him when a loud crack filled the room, and Joel yanked you backwards against him just in time to watch the desk slump to the side, your papers and notebook scattering across the floor.

"Jesus," you gasped, then whined as Joel pulled out of you suddenly. He twisted you around to push your back up against the wall, then lifted your legs so you could wrap them around his waist and stuffed his cock back inside you with a deep groan.

Your fingers dug desperately into his shoulders as you rocked your hips forward, trying to keep pace with him. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs roughly as he pounded into you, his face buried in your shoulder. You raked a hand through his dark curls, then tightened your fingers around them, tugging to pull him up so you could see his face.

His dark eyes searched yours, his jaw clenched as he chased his release. You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, which caused him to change the direction of his hips, and suddenly he was pushing against that spot inside you that always made you come undone. You turned your head to the side as you felt your orgasm bubbling quickly to the surface. Joel could feel you clenching around him, so he slotted his lips sloppily against yours to pull your attention back.

"Look at me when you come," he told you. Your jaw was slack and your eyes were glazing over as the flames stoked inside you, rising higher and higher. You were barely able to hear him, but you still nodded weakly.

"Joel..." you moaned, your head tipping back but your eyes still locked on his. "I-I'm close."

He nodded, his eyes burning into you, his fingers slipping against your sweat coated thighs.

"I know, sweetheart. I can feel you squeezin' me, so goddamn tight," he grunted, his pace not letting up.

You felt your orgasm rip through you violently, the intensity taking you by surprise. You cried out his name and rutted your hips against him, turning your face to the side out of habit, but his fingers quickly gripped your chin and pulled your gaze back to his.

"Eyes on me," he reminded you firmly, but you couldn't muster a response. You just kept your eyes locked on his, your jaw slack and your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm washed over you. You felt your body immediately go limp and you struggled with all your might to keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned, his hips stuttering into you as you tipped your head back against the wall, your eyes sliding shut. He rested his head back on your shoulder. His breath fanned over your hot skin and when his teeth sunk onto your collarbone, you yelped.

"Please, Joel," you whimpered. "I need you to come for me."

He cursed and pulled out quickly, his wet cock sliding against your leg as he coated your thighs with his release.

"Shit," he whispered with his eyes closed, his sticky forehead pressed against yours, gasping for air. "It's so fuckin' hot in here."

Laughter bubbled up from your throat while Joel slowly released your shaky legs back down to the floor. You immediately collapsed in the desk chair, wiping the sweat from your face and chest. Your hair felt wet as you raked your fingers through it, trying to tame the mess.

Joel tugged his jeans and underwear back up, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to gently clean you up. You watched him through heavy lidded eyes as he tended to you: leaving sweet kisses over your stomach before finding your clothes and peppering your legs with more kisses as he pulled your underwear and jeans back on.

He slouched on the floor against the wall of the office while you continued to catch your breath in the chair, your head tipped back over the top and your trembling legs stretched out.

"You never answered my question," he said, lifting his head up to look at you. You rolled your head lazily to the side, raising a confused eyebrow.

"What gotcha so worked up?"

You grinned and sat up in the chair, wincing slightly at your already sore legs and back.

"I never saw you do stuff like this before," you said with a shrug. "Fixing things. Building things. I don't know, just watching you do that really turned me on."

He smirked and turned his face away, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck. It was never lost on him how you simply loved him for being him. Something he wasn't sure he ever had before. Most of the women he had dated were only interested in the white collar parts of his life, always forgetting that the blue collar part is what made him so successful in the first place. But not you. You only ever saw him, loved him, for who he was, flaws and all.

"Well," he said with a grunt as he rose up from the floor, "do'ya think you can keep it together for the rest of the day? 'Cause I just added one more thing to my list." He jutted his chin towards the broken desk behind you and you giggled, standing up on wobbly legs to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I'll do my best, Mr. Miller," you said with a wink, grabbing your apron off the floor and heading back to work.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

[mrsfatu]

Even if it hurts (part 2)

pt2: the contract, read part 1 HERE

paring: dom!Roman Reigns, sub!reader, jey uso, jimmy uso

summary: after four days of not having any contact with roman, you finally understand why and experience another side of him.

warnings: PURE SMUT AT THE END, body fluids, bondage, language, MINORS DNI!!!

word count: 2392

taglist: @hunnidmilly @raeluvshammett @fame-ass-ers @jeyusos-girl @romanreignseater @simplyreading96 @moxkindagirl

It seems like the days have flown by faster than expected. It was the day of the tag team match. There seemed to be a long wait for you in Roman's locker room, where him, his cousins and Paul waited for you. Of course you were in your dressing room, but more nervous than last time. 

“What's taking her so long?” Roman sighs out of aggression. Jey sat up in his chair. "She's probably nervous uce, give her time,” he said. Roman eyes panned to Jey's. "We don't have ‘time’ to waste. Go and get her.” he demanded, not taking his eyes off Jey's. He stood up, glancing at roman once again before leaving to your dressing room. 

You stood in front of your vanity, beckoning yourself on it,  not ready to go face Roman after what happened four days ago, you were still drowning in confusion. A robe covered your body with your black and white outfit underneath. 

 When you heard a soft knock on your door, a feeling of anxiety and dread swept through your body. "It's open," you shouted, knowing it couldn't have been Roman because he never knocks. After entering your dressing room, Jey closes the door. “So uhh, he wants you to hurry up,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

A sarcastic chuckle emanated from your lips as you watched yourself in the mirror. " He wants me to hurry up," you murmured as you straighten your back. You turned towards jey and crossed your arms, “fine, i’ll be there in a minute,” you said. “he meant now…” jey replied. After rolling your eyes, you removed your robe and grabbing your championship belt, you threw it over your shoulder.

Your tenseness was evident to Jey. While he wasn't sure what was going on between you two, he knew something wasn't right. Roman has avoided questions that include your name for the past four days, and he hasn't spoken to you either. 

As you began to walk past Jey, he grabbed your arm in an instant. With a fierce look on your face, you stopped walking and focused on him. “Listen. I dont know whats up but you have to put that aside for tonight. we need you out there, so put on your face because you got some belts to take tonight,” he states as he releases your arm, “thank you, jey,”

He nods his head and the two of you make your way to Romans locker room. Despite the silence, everyone appeared serious in the room. You took your seat between roman and jey. 

It was a business-related conversation, dominated by Roman, with his face forward the entire time. You, Jimmy and Paul stood to exit towards the alley to the show, but instead you waited for Roman by the door, you wanted answers and you were going to get them by any means necessary. 

You began to hear roman and jey talk, “whats up with you uce? Why’re you avoiding y/n?” jey asks. “I'm not avoiding anyone,” Roman replies. Jey sighs, knowing that was a lie, “cmon uce you think i don't notice? Whatever y'all have going on, you need to fix it,” says jey. You began to hear a loud thud. Roman pushed jey, “you don't get to tell me what i need to do!!” he shouts. While you were about to burst in and check on things, Jimmy grabbed your arm and removed it from the knob before you could turn it. He shakes his head, “dont do it. Its okay. Come on, we’ll wait for them in the alley." Jimmy held his arm on your shoulder as he walked you to the alley. 

“Calm down uce i'm just looking out for you, mainly her. Have some heart,” he shouted back. Roman looks away from jey, “I have heart,” he says. Jey gestures his hands as he asks, “then why are you doing her like this? You do it to me enough, but her, y/n, don't deserve it and you know it uce.” roman removes his hair tie, “she's different, ion wanna hurt ‘er,” he explains. “Here, give this to her before we walk to the ring,” he reaches in his pocket and hands jey a black and white glove that has your initials on it, perfect enough for your smaller hand. Jey pushes romans hand back to his chest, “you do it, i'm not gonna be your messenger uce. We family, and if you wanna make shit right with her, YOU do it,” he says before he exits the locker room.

Romans theme song began to play. He approached you and Paul to take his place between you, and the twins followed behind. You didn't dare glance at him, until he glanced first, but he didn't. Instead, he reached into his pocket and dug out the glove.

He held the glove next to your hand, gesturing you to take it. You looked down and back up at him, his eyes were pierced front ahead. Looking back down, you grabbed it. “My initials? He bought this for me?” you thought to yourself. You faced forward and placed the glove onto your hand. It fits you so perfectly, not too tight nor loose. 

The match went on for what it seems like forever. The communication between you and roman was great, he helped you when you needed, and you did as well. Now, he was in the ring with jack swagger. Jack hit roman with one of his signature moves, the “big boot”. His body fell the ground, causing a huge thud. Your eyes widened as you reached out to roman to be tagged in. aj lee’s hand was held out too, you were ready to go back in and finish this once and for all. 

Jack attempted to pin roman, but roman broke loose and hit him with his “superman punch” which took all his power away from him. “Cmon roman, tag me,” you extended your hand further, shaking it uncontrollably. He struggled to crawl his way to you, and then the both of you were tagged in. 

As soon as you got in, you used romans signature move “the spear”. Clutching your glove and slamming your fist to the ground, you ran at full speed, tackling aj lee down to her back as you watched her release all the air in her body. You went in for the pin, lifting her legs over your shoulders and your body hovering over hers. “ONE…” you tightened your grip, “TWO…” you let out a scream hoping she stays down, “THREE…”

You released her, jumping up and down out of excitement. Without a doubt, roman runs up to you and lift you off of your feet, “THATS WHAT IM TALKIN’ ‘BOUT,” he shouts. 

After the match, the two of you didn't say a word to each other. 

You found yourself standing outside of romans locker room, palms sweating and heart throbbing out of your ears. You let yourself in without an invitation. The smell of vanilla spice flooded your nose as so the dimmed light calmed your soul.

You could hear his shower stop, “this is gonna be so fucking embarrasing. Barging into his room while he's showering…. Gosh im a sick person,” you whispered. You notice his pictures on his wall, so you decide to go and look yourself. It was a picture of him as a child, one of him as a football player and one with his family. “I guess it does run in the family,” you said.

“Inviting yourself in?” you heard his voice, which sent shocks down your body. Turning around, there he stood, in his shorts. His body was damped in water still as his wet hair rested on his shoulders. His tattoos stood out more in the low light of the room. You couldn't even comprehend what was standing in front of you,

“I umm- i just wanted to thank you… for the glove,” you struggled to say. He chuckled, “it's no problem. You did good tonight mama,” he stated, moving closer to you. Your cheeks reddened, fighting the urge to smile, but you still haven't gotten any answers and it wiped your smile away. “Roman… you confuse me you know…” you spoke as you took a step backward. He looks up for a second and looks back down at you, “I apologize. I was focused on keeping things professional. I just don't wanna hurt you,” he explained.

You nodded to an understanding. He walks over to his desk, pulling out his drawer. There was a thin pack of paper that he pulled out. Walking back towards you, he states, “i'm a professional man, y/n,” he hands it to you. You took it, looking down at it. It states, “The contract.” you looked back up at him, wondering what would be inside. 

You opened it, to see all of the sensual things listed. Started from submission and bondage, to limits and safewords. Especially the sentence, “you will be given a healthy salary along with clothing and travel allowance. In addition to any administrative needs I may require, you will make yourself available as my submissive.” Submissive 

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Looking back upo at him, your face crumbled, “is this… is this what you think of me? Roman?” you questioned. His eyes softened as he cupped your face, “no… not at all. I want to show you this part of me. I want you to be a part of me, mine,” he explained. 

you'd always been curious about that lifestyle; the leather, the domination, the taboo, but it definitely wasn't a term you'd ever associated with roman reigns. You were lost in confusion once again. The fact that he wanted you to sign the contract made your gut wrench anxiously. “Come, let me give you a preview,” he says softly. “You have three colors, green, yellow, and red. Green meaning you're comfortable, yellow meaning you're on edge, and red meaning youre uncomfortable, got it?” he asks. You nod your head, “use your words mama,” you open your mouth to speak, “yes.”

He slowly walks behind you and lifts your right arm, rubbing his hand along its length. His lips pressed gentle kisses down your arm and back up to your neck. His hands rubs your waist, making their way up to the back of your bra to unclip it. “What color are you?” he asks, “green” you replied, shakingly breathing. Your bra falls to the floor as he turns you around. The body temperature between you became hot and anxious. 

He caresses your face as he places a soft kiss on your lips. Turning around, he grabs a tie from the seat behind him. He moves closer, pulling your arms above your head and ties your wrists together. As you stood there, he cleared off his desk, wiping everything to the floor as if he didnt care what was on top of it. 

He picks you up with your tied wrist around his neck. You can feel your heart beating faster and faster by the second as he stared into your soul, ready to devour you any second. He lays you on the desk. His hands gripped the hem of your bottoms, pulling them off slow enough to your liking.

He steps back for a minute to admire your body, “god you're so beautiful,” he grunts. He runs his hand along your abdomen, “When I touch you, there is no one else." A moan escaped from your lips, and his eyes filled with need. "There's only your beautiful little whimpers that send me overhills." As soon as his finger pressed inside you, your moan grew louder. He pulled the finger out and went back to teasing your opening. "The only thing I ask is for you to be mine." 

His other hand gripped your thigh, then squeezed the soft flesh hungrilly. "So when I say that I want you-" It was a warm, wet sensation flickering across your cunt, and you grabbed the desk tightly, nearly tearing it to shreds when he blew on the wetness he created. "I want you,” he finished, his voice filled with greed. “All of you. You got that?" The blowing made speaking difficult, but you forced a "Yes sir" from your lips."Good." In the blink of an eye, his tongue inserted itself inside your mouth, then flicked back out, leaving you panting and completely at his mercy, wanting more and more from him.

“Be mine,” he said, his voice full of yearning. His touch was urgent when he grabbed your thighs and pushed them open, wider. Like if he didn’t have you, all of you, it would be the end of him, so he slid off his shorts. He had the most beautiful cock you’d ever seen. It was thick and veiny, protruding from a mass of beautiful curls.

His guttural moan punched inside you, eliciting an echo from you. Attempting to take him on, your muscles strained with waves of ecstasy swirling around sparks of pain. His heart stopped roaring in his chest or his ears but instead, beating in the place between your legs. His hair flowed with his pounding rhythm. His hands dug into your hips as he rowed in and out of you. The sound of skin and bodies colliding was perhaps the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

He kept pounding, strong and hungrily, and when you felt him trembling, you worried that you couldn't wait any longer. Not with him filling you so completely and struggling to hold tight to his own self-control.

"Come," he said, his voice betraying his own nearness. "Come with me, mama." you released everything, and he felt your body contracting, holding onto him. He was coming too, you could tell from the way he held you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. you cried out his name, over and over, and he said yours. Both of you; together, lost and found in each other. A tear ran down your cheek, filled with greed and pleasure. “I’ll think about the contact… even if it hurts,” you pant, hardly getting your words out. He brings his finger up to wipe it, “dont worry mama, this is just the beginning,” he pants.

[stevesworld96]

look at me now (part two)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

steve visits you before the vecna fight.

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve. 

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, kissing, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, mentions of death and injuries, steve retells canon events and deaths, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part one!!!

word count: 9280

-

Steve didn't call you the next morning.

You waited until noon. By that time morning was officially over, and your phone still hadn’t rang. 

It was hard not to be upset about it after what happened the night before. You were just about to kiss him, and he knew it. Maybe after a night of sleep, he woke up regretting it. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t call. 

If you didn’t talk to him, you would go mad with assumptions. If you thought about it long enough, you’d break your own heart. 

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Steve could be forgetful. It’s possible that it slipped his mind, or Robin was still feeling unwell. 

But if there was some other reason, you needed to hear it as soon as possible. 

Before your evening shift at Roses you stopped by Family Video. You visited him there often, so he wouldn’t be amiss seeing you - hopefully. 

When you walked into the video store, the sound of the bell had four heads snapping in your direction. You searched for the eyes you came here to see, and you didn’t notice the rogue tape on the floor that caught your foot. Robin, Dustin, Max, and Steve watched you trip, and you stuttered back to steady feet. 

The two kids were behind the counter at the computer. There was a mess on the floor. Everyone was staring at you like you had turned into something terrifying after walking inside. 

The three of them started whispering to Steve, Robin being the loudest. You caught, “go make her leave,” and, “why is she here?” 

And you didn’t understand, and Steve was shuffling toward you like a fast-paced robot, and something felt seriously off. 

Still, you smiled at him, something forced. “Hey.” 

“Hey. Look - we - we’re closing early today, so…” 

He was trying to walk you toward the door. You wanted to know why. 

“Oh, well - I just wanted to come see you before work. You didn’t call like you said you would.” 

“I know, I know.” He looked over his shoulder at the group behind him. They all made different faces and shooing motions. “You need to go, alright? You can’t be here right now.” 

“Steve?” 

You had made it to the door and he opened it for you. And he was giving you no sympathy in the way he looked at you, his features hard as stone. 

“Did I - is this about last night?” 

“No. It’s nothing to do with you, okay?” You didn’t believe him, and he didn’t try convincing you. Instead he pushed you through the threshold. “Just go. Go to work, I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Why are you doing this? Just tell me, Steve, seriously. I can handle it.” 

The way he sighed was dramatic, closing his eyes and hanging his head, but it was real. Annoyance and frustration, that’s what it was - two things he never directed at you. At least, not anymore. 

“Please. Just listen to me, for once. Please just go. I can’t talk to you right now.” 

You didn’t have a choice, really. The other option was standing there and arguing with him, and you had a feeling he didn’t have a fight in him. 

So you left. You heard the door close as soon as you turned your back. 

He didn’t even watch you go. 

The closer you got to your car, the more your throat burned. It was all a literal blur, with tears creating clouds in your vision. 

Visiting him had done the exact opposite of your goal. It made things worse, somehow, even though everything was fine five minutes ago. 

What the hell had happened between last night and right now? What could you have done?

Did Steve change his mind that fast? 

You thought about last night and the way that you felt. Your hands shaking, heart beating, mind racing - it was the same now, but with a pit in your stomach and tear tracks on your face. 

It didn’t seem fair. He didn’t have to be so cold. 

Why were they all being so cold? 

Maybe you had walked in on some important meeting. Max could have been telling them a secret, or Dustin could have been indulging an embarrassing story - or Steve could have been telling them what you had done last night. 

That’s what he meant when he said he didn’t want to fuck things up. Because he knew how you felt - because you weren’t hiding it at all - and he didn’t feel the same. 

And that’s why he didn’t call - because he was afraid to tell you. 

Because everything would change. Again. 

You felt it already in the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the same as it used to be. 

And maybe it would only get worse. 

...

Sundays were always the same. That was the only thought that got you through the mess of the day before. 

No matter what happened throughout the week, there was always a reliable refuge on Sunday. 

But Dustin’s bike wasn’t in its usual place on the edge of Steve’s yard. And Steve’s car wasn’t in his driveway. 

You were too shy to call, even though you knew he wasn’t home to pick up. Part of you wanted to call Family Video in case he’d taken a shift - just to hear his voice - but you couldn’t bear it. If you embarrassed yourself in front of him again, you’d never live it down. 

The worst part was knowing this could be all in your head. You could be putting yourself through emotional hell for nothing. 

But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. 

Monday morning there was still no sign of Steve. 

It was like there was something pent up inside of you that you could never get out - is this how he felt when you spent a week avoiding him? Confused, and lonely, and hurt? 

All you wanted to do was go back in time and stop yourself from ruining everything. 

Tuesday night brought a simmering heat that you wanted to boil over. The sadness ebbed, giving you a break from your self loathing and doubt, making room for a burning anger. One so hot it brought you to tears. 

It was all so unfair. He spent so long convincing you he cared, only to show you unequivocally that he didn’t. 

And you never should have let him back in, and you definitely shouldn’t have gotten close enough for your heart to break. 

You tossed and turned for days, blaming yourself then him, never able to make up your mind. 

More and more, it seemed like nothing mattered. There had to be something he wasn’t telling you. You couldn’t change anything, even if you kept crying or hoping or overthinking. You had given up hope that he would simply turn up at your door. 

Of course, you still wished he would. 

It was Wednesday evening when you finally got what you wanted. 

The sun had just barely set, bathing that spring day in a light navy that was destined to get darker. That’s when a knock echoed from your door and you found Steve’s apologetic eyes behind it. 

As you looked at him, the emotions you felt through the week rewinded. Acceptance, dread, anger - denial, shame, sadness - it all ran through like rushing water, leaving you with a pounding heart and unsteady hands. 

Your lips parted for no words to pass through them. He was getting uncomfortable under your stare so you dropped it to the floor and rebuilt your resolve. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I really needed to see you.” 

His voice wasn’t soft. It was almost demanding, the way he said it. Urgent. 

“Can I come in?” 

You didn’t reply; you turned and walked inside, expecting him to follow. Heavy footfall echoed in your hallway stalking you to your kitchen. 

You kept your back to him because you didn’t have the energy for a face-off. You’d rather pretend to look interested in the newspaper that sat on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s up?” you asked, playing nonchalant. 

“I really don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You heard him tapping the marble kitchen island countertop. 

“Okay…” 

“I know you’re mad. I know I forgot to call, and I’ve been gone, but I can’t explain anything. Not right now, maybe… not ever.” 

“Then… why are you here?” A genuine question.

“Because -” 

A crack in his voice brought silence that was louder than a crowded room; one where you could hear his deep breathing stutter. 

He was probably trying to find the right thing to say. Something that would make you forgive him instantly - words sweeter than a bouquet of flowers and an apology letter. You already decided you weren’t going to fall for it. 

“Because I needed to see you. That’s it.” 

“Steve.” 

“Can you look at me? Please?” And it wasn’t urgency this time, but desperation. 

You turned to face him but your gaze stuck to the floor. He planted himself on steel toed combat boots that you had never seen him wear before. 

“I know you’re pissed off and I know it’s unfair, but can you pretend to not be? For two minutes? Because I - I didn’t come here to fix it. But I had to see you while I had time.” 

It had you sneaking up his frame, curiosity taking the place of boldness as you put together the pieces of what he was wearing. 

He looked dressed for war, or to go play pretend army man. 

Dark green cargo pants that would have been too big without the tight belt tying them to his waist. 

Some kind of kevlar vest was over the brown leather of a jacket with patches all down the arms, all of them representing something American militaristic. 

Dirt coated fists, up to his wrists and you were sure passed. On his face from his ears to under his eyes, his forehead down to his neck. 

His neck, a nasty welt wrapped all the way around it twice. Dark red in its obvious freshness, splotchy in a need to be cared for, cleaned, disinfected. It looked like he had gotten into something bad, and there were no clues for who had given him such an ugly injury.

You stared, and your nails cut your palms, and you spoke too loud when you said, “What did you do?” 

He knew what you were referring to, looking down as if he could see it. You watched as his lips tried to form words of defense that never came. 

“Did you - did you -”

“No.” 

“Steve.” 

“If I told you what happened, you wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Next time I’m here, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.” 

You hadn’t noticed you had stepped closer to him until you had his eyes in yours, looking at you like he meant every word. 

“You’re scaring me, Steve.” 

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.” 

He checked his watch, then sighed. 

He stuttered over his words like he didn’t know what he was saying. “We - Robin and some others, we’re - we’re - we’re going out of town tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll call you.” 

“I don’t understand -” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey, I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his eyes for a second, like he could buff out the stress in them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

Your concern only grew as he took a small step backwards. 

“Steve, you - can’t you just stay here with me? Why do you have to go?” 

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, okay?” It sounded like he was trying to soothe himself rather than you. “I’ll be back.”

You called his name, trying to stop him, but he turned from you. 

“I won’t forget to call you this time, okay?” 

You took those steps toward him, you reached out to grab him, but he walked out of your reach. When he got to the doorway, he stopped. He stood still for just a moment, and then he was turning again. 

He looked like he had made a decision, and then he was coming back to you. 

And when he was in reach, you took hold of him. You pulled him in and he was all around you, hugging the life out of you, trying to squeeze all the worry out of you.

You pulled away just enough to look at him. His jaw fit in the palm of your hand like you were his mold. You held him as gently as you could, and you pulled him in, and you didn’t stop pulling until his lips hit yours. 

It was a kiss that should have happened days ago - maybe a long time before that. One that was brand new but still familiar; you could smell his cologne underneath leather, you felt his hands on your waist squeezing tight. 

You kissed him only just, and you felt overwhelmed with how much emotion you were trying to pour into it. 

When you pulled away, big hands held the sides of your face and brought you back. Your neck craned so he could kiss you how he wanted to for a second time; a messy mesh that made things feel okay, just for that moment. 

And it didn’t last long enough, because nothing so good ever did. When he broke it off he dropped his hold on you and walked away, slowly and then too fast. And that was it, and he was gone, and you wanted to chase after him but you were stuck where you stood. 

+

It wasn’t fair. 

I needed to see you, he had said, but he couldn’t even give a reason. You had no idea how selfish he was being. 

You wouldn’t even look at him. And when you did, it was like you were scared of him. And you were angry, and he couldn’t fix a fucking thing - not when the weight of this town was on his shoulders. 

He wiped the taste of you off his lips and pulled on the winnebago’s door until it creaked open. 

Because I may never see you again, is what he wanted to say. He wanted to give you a reason. He wanted to rip himself apart, there in your kitchen; show you the fresh wounds and the healed scars and the blood stains. He wanted to fall and cry and forget, without feeling bad for hoping you’d catch him. 

He walked into that god awful RV, sat in the driver’s seat, and started driving without so much as a second thought. 

And he was scared even though he couldn’t be. It was like his heart skipped a beat - he felt it falling out of his chest, into his stomach. A flash of cold crept up his spine until his hands were ice. Open wounds on his back, chest, arms all throbbed, drumming a beat that was fiercely alive. A reminder he appreciated. 

A deep breath was all it took, and every punch he had ever thrown played in his mind. Every swing, strike, and scream. All of them landing back on him.

He’d do it all again, tonight, because he had to. He didn’t sign up for it. And it wasn’t fucking fair. But he made his choice, and this was it. 

And this time, Steve didn’t know who would come out of it alive. 

So maybe it was selfish to ask the group if he could make a pitstop at your house when there was something bigger looming. And maybe it was unfair, because nobody else got to say their just in case goodbyes. 

But he wouldn’t feel bad. He couldn’t, because every time he closed his eyes he was being dragged underwater, he felt that bat’s tail tightening around his throat, he heard the sound of teeth digging into his own flesh. 

It was that jolt of helplessness, all over again, ten times worse. 

It was nobody coming to help him. 

It was being left for dead, to rot in the stomach of monsters he couldn’t fight off. 

He could hear his own last words. 

And he saw Robin at your front door telling you what happened with no explanation. You asking questions that would never be answered - being angry at him forever, because he didn’t call like he said he would. He saw you living without him - himself dying without you. 

But he opens his eyes, and he’s still here. Driving down a winding road to some place that might be the death of him and all his friends. And he’s still breathing, and he feels you holding him like he’s worth more than the dirt and blood he’s covered in, and it’s enough. It has to be.

… 

You wondered if your lips would ever stop buzzing - if the butterflies in your stomach would finally die. Neither happened by morning, and you were sure you were cursed to feel them forever. 

There was no sense to be made out of the conversation you had with Steve the night before. The army gear he wore was confusing enough - the wounds he had and the words he spoke had your mind going haywire. 

And you could do nothing but wait, and ask yourself the same questions. You spent your time finding distractions and not thinking too hard. 

One day turned into two, and missing him never got comfortable. Concern sat in your chest like a rock. You couldn’t even look in the direction of his house without a chill going up your spine, and you had to sleep with the radio on to keep your mind from racing. 

You couldn’t think. You didn’t want to. 

Because - what if he wasn’t coming back? 

You didn’t know, but you really wished he would have taken you with him to wherever he was going. If he was running away, he should have known you’d want to go, too. 

Two days turned into four.

You weren’t okay until you saw him again. 

It was his car pulling up in front of your house. You were out checking the mailbox when you heard the sound of an engine; you glanced over your shoulder, not expecting it to be his car, but when you realized, it felt like you had been run over by it. 

Mail landed on the grass as your slipper caught the curb. His door opened and you were there, already on him, bouncing on your toes to wrap yourself around his neck. He caught you. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” You breathed the words out. “Oh my god.” 

“I’m sorry,” but he didn’t sound it. He sounded happier than ever. 

It was purely opposite to how he spoke to you days ago. The grim in his words was gone, as was the grime. He was clean, and he had slept, and he was right there in your arms. 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” you said. You didn’t notice you were crying until you saw tears dripping into his sweater. “You aren’t leaving again.” 

He wobbled around until you were pressed up against his car door, your hug becoming even tighter. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not leaving, I promise.” 

“Never,” you said, and he laughed. “What happened, Steve? Are you going to tell me?” 

You pulled back just enough to look at him, and you found him with his eyes shut tight. 

“No.”

The wound on his neck was more of a bruise, now, dark reds and purples painting his skin like a necklace. You wondered how long it would be there - if there’d always be a scar. Time would tell. 

He continued, “No - not right now. I don’t want to talk about it,” and you pulled him back into you, hugging him tight. “Not yet.” 

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said, offering the patience he was asking you for. “I don’t care. Just don’t scare me like that again.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so happy. Missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.” 

You wondered if you could stand right there in the street hugging him forever. In his arms, til the end of time, letting cars drive by and the seasons change around you, nothing ever pulling you apart. Never having anything between you again. 

“Stay with me tonight,” you said. It was quiet, and it was a desperate beg. “Please. Can you?” 

“I don’t know...” 

He was pulling back and you didn’t want him to, but the way his big hand held your face had you reeling. 

“I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Just one night?” 

He was pushing your hair back like he wanted it out of the way - like he needed it out of your face so he could get a better look at you. And his eyes roamed over you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. 

“I want to. I have to check on Dustin, later, and Nance - and Max, in the morning.” 

You shoved your face back into his shoulder. He was here, but he wasn’t here to stay. And he had no answers for your questions. And, maybe, he wasn’t going to kiss you again. 

Is that why you had a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach? Is that what you were so afraid of? 

You didn’t understand what he was going through, and he wasn’t helping you to. 

Maybe you didn’t have to know, or it wasn’t your place, but you ached with a need to help him. Curiosity ate at you, and the weary way he spoke kept feeding it. 

But there was nothing you could do. You had started getting used to that feeling.

So, “Okay,” you said. Because you couldn’t push, you couldn’t ask. It was easier for him if you didn’t argue, and that’s what he needed. Something easy. 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re pouting.” 

“I’m not.” 

He laughed, something real and cute, and it had a smile starting to stretch on your face. 

“I know you are. I know you.” He was speaking right into your ear; his quiet voice was the only thing you could hear. His voice was the same as always, stoking the flames in your heart and smothering the ones in your stomach. “Let me see.” 

“I’m not pouting,” and you pulled your smiling face from where it was hidden. You pulled out of his hold, catching both his hands in yours. “Are you gonna come in?” 

“I was thinking about it,” he said. So you led him inside. 

… 

And you hoped beyond it all that the week would be nothing but a blip in time, but it didn’t seem like things would go back to normal any time soon. 

If Steve was distant before, he was miles away now. 

He was trying, but there was always something he wasn’t saying. You had no idea how to get it out of him even after spending every day with him. 

You didn’t see Robin again until you had already gotten used to the April showers, and she offered nothing more than meek smiles and one word answers during your hang out. 

You hadn’t seen Dustin at all. Erica, either. Sundays had become like any other day. 

Steve hadn’t mentioned the girl, but he talked about Dustin sometimes. Every few days he’d say he was going to check on him - for a reason you didn’t know. 

Max was in the hospital. Steve didn’t say the reason or how she was doing. But you knew that on the days he visited her, he left home early and got back real late. You gave him his space on those days. 

And then it was May, and nothing had changed, and you had gotten used to it. 

...

The nights were starting to get warmer, and Steve was grateful for it. He could sit out on his patio all night, with nothing but a hoodie and half a pack to get him to too late. 

He’d made a habit out of it without noticing. Out of staying up until three every night. Out of losing count of the stars in the sky. Out of chain smoking until he couldn’t hold his eyes open. 

He used to be scared of the dark. When he was a kid, it was the only fear he could fathom. And, recently, it terrified him. 

Now, he looked over his backyard, into the stretch of forest beyond it, and he didn’t feel a thing. If there was something hiding in the shadows, something he should be afraid of, it’d have to show itself first. 

He wasn’t wasting any more time being afraid of story book monsters that might exist, because he knows what fear is now. He’s looked it in its eye, and he’s felt it punching him in the face, and he’s heard it screaming his name for help. 

If it was dark all the time, Steve wouldn’t mind one bit. 

And then his patio door was sliding open, and he felt his heart in his throat. 

Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he thought. 

“Hey.” 

Your voice cut through the pounding. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and shoved it up his sleeve, feeling a need to hide them from you - even though he had one tucked behind his ear that he was sure you could see. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

You sat with him, crouching down and getting as comfortable as you could on the wooden porch. He watched you fold your arms into yourself. 

“Getting some peace and quiet,” he said. “No jacket?” 

“Didn’t think you’d be outside,” you said. “Should I go get one?” 

He was already getting up before you could finish asking. He brought you a jacket and a blanket, and got himself a Coke. Better than beer, he figured. 

You grabbed all three from him. “How’d you know I was thirsty?” 

All he did was grin at you. He slid the door shut behind him, and then sat down against it, across from you. You were sitting too close for him to stretch his legs out; he kept them bent, his arms slung over his knees. 

Now that you were here, his thoughts weren’t the loudest thing in his head. You had always been like that - too noisy to let the quiet smother him. Most times, he appreciated that. 

It wasn’t helping now, though. Your tapping on the ground and the tune you hummed weren’t drowning out a thing. 

He couldn’t stop fucking thinking. 

You passed him the soda can, and he held it lazily between his bent knees. 

He didn’t even want it. He wasn’t thirsty. Really, he only wanted to light the cigarette you hadn’t spotted yet. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

He stared at the chipped paint under his feet. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, over and over at the same spot until it was bleeding. And, god, it was a familiar taste. One that made him sick. 

He tossed his head back and it hit the glass with a thud. He looked at you, once, and then passed you. At the rippling water in the pool. 

He stared at it. Stared and stared and stared, until he had to say something. 

“Do you remember when Will Byers went missing?” 

He wanted to see the reaction on your face, but he couldn’t look away from the water. He could see that night, the party, and what happened afterward. 

“Yeah… our junior year, right?” 

He gave a barely there nod. 

“It was Will, and then it was Barb.” 

He looked to his lap, but he was still seeing that fucking night. He saw the blood in Barb’s hand, and he heard the hurt in her voice, and he remembered not caring at all. 

“Fuck. It’s all so fucked up.” 

He didn’t care when he should’ve, and now it’s useless. It doesn’t matter if he cares or not, but he wants to rip his fucking heart out, anyway. He wants to go back in time and do it all over again, even if it would lead to a disaster. Even if it would change everything or nothing. 

And he shouldn’t be so upset about it, because it doesn’t make a difference. Not anymore. He could be as careless as he wants, now, because no one is around to be hurt by it. 

“Why are you thinking about that, Steve?” 

“Because that’s when all this shit started.” 

He spoke without thinking, words falling out of his mouth like a running faucet, because he didn’t have the energy to keep a secret anymore. 

It started with Barb, but it didn’t end with her. Or with Billy. Or Hopper, or Chrissy - and, maybe, not with Eddie. 

And how many others had been taken in between? 

His throat felt tight; he coughed through it. He sat the Coke between his feet, and realized his lighter was there, too. 

He brought a palm to his eyes. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. It’s - it’s fucking unbelievable, but it’s all true.” 

“Steve.” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“You can tell me.”

He was getting overwhelmed. His breaths started to stagger on top of each other, making it hard to catch even one. Tears welled in his eyes as he squeezed them shut. It was all too much - he needed to get it out. 

Because nothing between you and him would ever be normal if he never stopped hiding this from you. What, was he going to hide his scars from you forever? Or never explain why he didn’t sleep at night? Would all of his weapons be excused away as decorations?

No - he wanted to let you in. 

“It’s all so fucking stupid.” 

He was laughing, and you must have thought he was fucking crazy. 

“Barb - she was here that night.” 

“What?” 

“This is the last place she was seen. And I just acted like it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t care, even when I found out she was missing.” 

And he felt like an open fucking wound; the still healing rips on his torso leaking blood, too much for his shirt to absorb. His head throbbing, his eye swollen shut. Iron in his mouth, on his fists, pooling around him. Something wrapped around his throat. Bile filling it. He hadn’t healed. His injuries were all still there. 

“And I show up to Jonathan Byers’ house, and I knock on his door, and I knew - I fucking knew something was wrong. Like, seriously wrong. And I forced Nancy to let me in, and I didn’t run when they told me to. And I should have just fucking listened.” 

He thought about Barb, Billy, Chrissy, Jason, Eddie. All of them, victims to the thing he’s had nightmares about for years, and he can’t stop his first thought: I’m just glad it wasn’t me. 

But it’s the thought that comes after that he keeps getting hung up on: Should it have been?

“I don’t know what they said about Will. I don’t know what excuse they made up, or what you think happened - if he was lost in the forest, or - or if he ran away, but none of it is true. He disappeared. He wasn’t here anymore. He was gone - literally, gone. In another dimension. Literally.” 

Steve couldn’t know if you were understanding - if you were even capable of believing something so unreal. But you had to. You had to know. He’d been carrying around this secret, and it was the biggest thing in his life. 

Because he wanted to. Because he loved you. He wants you to love him - to understand who you’re loving. 

“Whatever you think about all the shit that happens in Hawkins… they say it’s a curse, or whatever, but - you don’t know the half of it. You don’t know any of it. It’s not a curse. It’s just a coincidence. If it didn’t happen in Hawkins, it would have happened somewhere else.” 

You still hadn’t said anything. You just sat there, staring at your hands in your lap. Steve wasn’t sure if he appreciated the silence or not, but he wasn’t used to it. 

“Will went missing. And a girl showed up. Eleven. El. You’ve seen her with Mike, or Max. You know her. You know Hawkins Lab? That’s where she grew up. She’s not just some girl, she’s - she’s someone’s science experiment. She’s got psychic powers. I’m not kidding.” 

“What?” 

There it was - the tilt in your voice that told him you didn’t believe a damn thing, and he didn’t blame you. 

And he laughed. 

“I swear.” 

“Psychic powers, like…?” 

He grabbed the Coke and took a long drink over a smile. He was looking at you like this was something casual. 

“I’ve seen her lift a car with her mind,” and he shrugged with it. The can rang on the floor; you picked it up and took a drink. 

You said nothing, and Steve felt like he was retelling a movie plot rather than his own life. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

“I don’t know what they were doing in the lab, but they - I don’t know. They opened a gate into another dimension. One just like Hawkins, but fucked up beyond belief. The Upside Down. That’s where Will went. It’s where Barb died. It’s where all your nightmares go to turn into spit soaked monsters, probably.” 

He pulled down his cigarette and rolled it back and forth between his fingers, digging his thumb’s nail into the filter. It was some old menthol crush, the last of its pack that he’d bummed at a party a few weeks back. He hated the way it stung the back of his throat, hated the taste it left in his mouth even more. The Marlboro Reds burned a hole in his hoodie sleeve where they were still hidden. Those smoked better - they were fresher, smoother. 

“Dustin comes up with these insane sounding names for all the shit that comes out of that place. Demogorgans. Demodogs.” He had to chuckle and roll his eyes at himself. “The Mind Flayer. That’s what wrecked Starcourt.” 

“The mall?” 

Steve nodded. 

“You said it was a fire.” 

“I lied.” 

“Then what was it?” 

He put the menthol between his lips. He hated the mint, but he always cracked the capsule, anyway. Someone told him it was bad luck not to.

He stared at you, and he wrapped his teeth around the cigarette filter. His jaw tensed with a bite. It popped, and he grabbed his lighter, and he didn’t look away from you. 

And then he got into it. He told you about Dustin hearing Russian being spoken over his radio. And how he learned how smart Robin really is, when she translated the words and then understood the secret message they were relaying. He explained how they’d gotten Erica to sneak into the air vents, and how that led to all four of them sneaking into a storage room that turned into a sinking elevator. 

He told you about the Russians, about how they were opening their own gate. He told you about getting kidnapped by them, and all the ways they had made those few hours hell. 

He didn’t spare the details, because he was tired of downplaying it all. And in that bunker, he thought he was dead. He shouldn’t have to tiptoe around that. 

And he told you about the drug they’d given him and Robin, and how he would be dead if it wasn’t for Dustin and Erica, and how fucking scared he was even after he got out. 

And they got out, and then he was driving a car straight into Billy fucking Hargrove, and then all of them were fighting something that looked bigger than the entire sky. 

And he doesn’t know how he remembers it all so clearly. 

“And then it was over… and I called you.” He still hadn’t lit his smoke - it’d been hanging from his lips the whole time he spoke. 

You stared at him like you were trying to find his missing pieces. Glass coated your eyes and worry wormed its way between your brows, and Steve hated it. He wasn’t telling you any of this so you’d feel bad. He didn’t want you crying for him, or at all. 

He laughed only just. “And you had no idea what you were picking me up from.” 

You breathed in a loose sniffle. “No shit.” 

Scratch, rip, hit -

Scratch, rip, hit - 

Scratch, rip, hiss.

A flame lit up his face as tobacco started to burn. Nasty numbing mint chilled his throat as he puffed out his chest, and he held in a cough on the exhale. 

He held the lighter loose in the air, between his raised knees. 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t believe you could make any of that up.” 

“I’m sorry I never told you.” Mumbled words were barely heard over the scratch, rip, hit as he played with the Bic like a toy. And he didn’t sound all too sorry - he sounded tired. 

Wind ripped through the night and carried smoke and ash with it. 

“What about spring break?” 

He looked up at you. “What?” 

“Spring break,” you said again. You looked down from his eyes to his neck, where shadows of a bruised scar remained. “Something else happened, didn’t it?” 

Somehow, in the reminiscing of fights past, he’d forgotten about everything most recent. That was the only way he could forget about it - by thinking about all the shit that came before. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, redundant answers easier to give than an explanation. Listening to the scratch, rip, hiss, watching a flickering flame, breathing in more smoke. 

He let go of fidgeting with the lighter to pull the cigarette from his mouth. He exhaled smoke then hit it again; he held the hit so long that what he breathed out was thin. 

And as he ashed his cigarette, he decided he didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t want to replay those events like a story. So, again, he said, “Yeah.” 

“What happened?” It wasn’t a push - Steve appreciated the concern you had. 

“Same as always. It was a fight. It’s… it’s supposed to be over now. Really over.” 

He remembered it like it was yesterday: setting Vecna aflame that caught all of The Upside Down with it. The whole place burned, from its vines to its crumbled buildings to the monsters in the sky. The gates closed themselves like they had never been open. 

And it was over, even if it was too late. 

“The Upside Down is gone. It should be. Hopefully. But… I was lucky to get out. Some of us didn’t.” He shrugged, like it was casual. He stared at the cherry on the cigarette, burning bright orange. 

And he couldn’t keep talking, even though he knew what part came next. He knew what words he had to say. But he couldn’t. 

It seemed you caught on enough, because you said them for him. “Max?”

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, holding back tears he’d already cried before. 

“She’s been in a coma since,” he said. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“But you’ve seen her?” 

His response came hesitant. “I’ve tried,” and he wanted to leave it at that, so no cries came after, but his mouth kept talking. “Robin goes in. I can’t even make myself get out of the damn car.” 

All he felt was shame, but he swallowed it. 

“You heard about Chrissy Cunningham?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It wasn’t Eddie Munson who killed her.” You nodded - Steve figured you understood what he meant enough to spare the details. “Eddie - god, Eddie would’ve died for her. He would’ve died for anybody. He died for this fucking town.” 

Another pull from the smoke that was almost gone. Breathe in, breathe out. 

“He was a dumbass. A freak - a fucking idiot.” He wished Eddie was listening to him - Steve wanted him to hear all the insults he was throwing his way, because they were all true. It was stupid the way Eddie died. He shouldn’t have. 

“And Dustin’s been a mess ever since, and there’s nothing I can do. Robin’s a bigger wreck than she used to be. No one’s handling it.” 

“How are you handling it?” 

And Steve didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t sure he had one. 

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t lying - he was fine. Somewhere between good and bad, coping through flashbacks and nightmares. He wasn’t lost in it. He was dealing. 

“Steve…” 

The last drag from his barely there cigarette burned hot, and he savored the pull until his lungs were full. He didn’t empty them until he stood up, and he looked around for the ashtray. 

His words were smoke. “Do you want to go in? It’s late.” 

He found it on the table, stubbed out the cigarette, and then he stuffed the hidden pack into his pocket. 

You repeated his name behind him, and he ignored you. And then your hand was on his back, and you were pulling him in before he could hear you coming. 

It was a tight hug he had to fight out of just so he could turn and reciprocate. His arms around your shoulders were just as tight as yours around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper he didn’t even know he was breathing out, until he was repeating it into your hairline. “I had to tell you. I needed you to know. I’m sorry.” 

Your response was muddy, spoken into his shoulder. He laughed and pulled back enough to look at you. 

“What?” 

“Don’t say sorry.” You wore a grumpy look, your words were demanding, and Steve laughed some more. “Why are you laughing? Stop.” 

“Because you’re funny.” His thumb smoothed out the worry between your brows and put them back where they belonged. “And really cute.” 

You pressed your cheek into his chest. “I’m being serious. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

“Yeah. Me too, believe me.”

A kiss on your forehead had you squeezing him tighter, and he ignored how tender the injuries on his back and stomach were. They were just barely forming scars, but the way you hugged him had him feeling like they weren’t even there. It made him feel special. He felt better. 

So he kissed your skin again and willed himself to tamper the thoughts of when he was kissing your lips instead. “Let’s go in, honey.” He pulled you loose from him. 

It seemed like you had a realization, then; your eyes went wide and you looked at him like you couldn’t stop. “That’s why you came to see me that night - because…” 

You trailed off, maybe not knowing what to say, and Steve wasn’t sure where to pick up. He could tell you the suffocating truth, or a less embarrassing lie. 

Something in between, “Because I needed to.” 

“I didn’t know it was that serious,” you said. “I mean - I knew there was something really wrong, but… I didn’t know - I didn’t think that could be our first and last kiss - I didn’t know you could’ve died.” 

“I wasn’t trying to scare you. You weren’t supposed to think that.” He felt bad, but he didn’t regret the visit. “And, technically - it was our first and second kiss.” 

You breathed a laugh as your forehead fell into the crook of his neck. “I hate your technicalities.” 

He laughed, too, and the joy helped distract him from the anxiety running through him. 

He thought about that kiss every day - about how he made sure to do it twice, all because he wasn’t going to die without getting to kiss you a second time. Once wasn’t enough, so he took the second without any time passing. 

But he wouldn’t tell you any of that. He was scared to know how you’d feel about it. 

That’s why he hasn’t brought it up until now. Until you said something first. 

He pulled away from you again, really meaning to bring you inside this time because he hated having you out so late. But he froze when he saw tears on your lash line, looking like crystals clinging to your eyelashes. 

He swore he felt his heart break. “Sweetheart.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t cry - hey, don’t cry for me, alright? I’m right here, honey, hey.” 

He crouched down to be eye level with you and he sat on the table behind him. He cradled your face - you tried pulling away, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“If you would’ve told me the truth, I never would have let you go.” You spoke so sadly. 

“I know. I know, honey, but you don’t have to think about it anymore - it’s okay. There’s nothing to cry about.” 

Tears were still falling, and you were still mumbling through them. “I would’ve kissed you more if I knew you might not come back.” 

And he needed you to stop crying. He’d do anything - he’d confess all his feelings right there, if that’s what it took. 

“I was always coming back. I’m right here, you got me, look at me.” 

You shook your head but did what he said; he was wiping your tears with his sleeve, chuckling through the ache in his chest. 

“You think I was gonna kiss you then go get myself killed? No shot. What’d you think I was living for, huh?”

“That’s not funny, Steve.” But you were smiling. 

“I’m not trying to be.” He was smiling, too. “I mean it. Nothing would keep me from coming back to you, alright? I’m right here - you can keep me forever, I’ll kiss you as much as you want, just stop crying.” 

“I can’t help it.” You wiped your nose and squeezed your eyes closed, and it looked like your breathing was steadier. “Do you mean it?” 

“Which part?” 

“I can keep you forever?” 

“Of course.”

And he watched your cheeks swell into a smile you tried to hide. “And you’ll kiss me?” 

He had no idea how to be charming or sly underneath your gaze, so he wasn’t. Instead, he was a stuttering, shy, lovesick fool. 

“I - I mean, yeah - yeah, if you… want me to, I guess - I mean, I definitely want to, so - it’s up to you?” 

He didn’t even care if he sounded like an idiot, because that’s exactly what he was. And you knew it. 

“Obviously I want you to, Steve.” 

His thumb pressed into your cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Obviously, huh?” 

He was obsessed with your smile, addicted to feeling it grow into his palm. 

“I’ve only been sending signals for months, but you haven’t caught any of them.” 

“Oh, I’ve caught them, alright - was just waiting for the right moment.” 

“Like right now?” 

And, just like the first time, you kissed him. It was as soft as it could possibly be. Two smiles meeting after too long apart, his hands on your face, yours on his chest. 

He pulled away, then brought you back to him, tilting your chin so he could kiss you for real. He moved his lips and yours followed his lead. 

Your fingers crawled up and up until they were sneaking behind his neck, getting lost in his hair. He tugged you closer - your body was flush against his. 

He felt you everywhere; you stood between his legs, your chest and his were rising and falling with each other. 

Behind his closed eyes, he was in another world. He saw you pulling him in close, he felt your hand tightening around his, he heard your voice calling out his name.

He heard himself telling you every secret he’d ever kept. He saw the house he’d build for you, and the bed he’d sleep in with you, and the ring he’d give you. He saw it all.

It was heart racing. 

It was wanting to be with you forever. 

It was you wanting to be with him, too. 

And then you pulled away. 

And he opened his eyes. 

And you were right there in front of him, smiling just for him to see, and he felt like melting into a puddle. 

“You’ll kiss me as much as I want, right? Is that what you said?” 

God, he wanted to squeeze you like a stuffed animal - you drove him crazy. Absolutely batshit insane. 

He pulled you back in with both hands on your face and kissed you something awful - pressing against you hard, making sure to leave your lips glossy when he pulled back to laugh. 

“Just like that, as much as you want.” 

“Never again.” 

It was funny when you tugged away from him. Both of you were laughing, but he couldn’t take it. You weren’t getting far. 

“Don’t leave, it’s what you wanted!” 

He chased behind and it was quick when he caught you, right at the patio door. He turned you around and pressed you into the glass, and he kissed you again like he couldn’t help it - because he couldn’t. 

The way you kissed was new, and he already loved it, but he ached to know you. To know just how to get you to open up for him, to learn how to kiss you exactly as you liked. 

He would figure it out - he wouldn’t stop until he did. And he’d make do for the moment, leading the way through your shyness, not letting anything stop him. 

Your lips parted after enough convincing, and with your open mouth against his it was impossible for him to hold back the noise he made. A groan, or a growl, he wasn’t sure - but it had you whining back to him as he tasted your tongue. 

It was hot but it was slow, and there was nothing Steve wouldn’t give for it to last forever. Despite that, he broke first. 

“As much as you want,” he told you, speaking low, words scratched with something rough. “God, I’d kiss you forever if you let me, baby - however you wanted me to.” 

“Forever?” 

“As long as you’ll let me,” he grinned. “As long as you’ll keep me.” 

“I’ve already had you around for a while…” 

“Not like this,” he insisted. “At least let me get good at kissing you before you throw me out on the curb.” 

“You’re already good,” you said, kissing his jaw. 

He hummed, teasing. “Let me get better, then. Gotta get up to par with you, honey.” 

“What can I say? I’ve had a lot of kissing practice, babe.” 

He rolled his eyes, acting dramatic. “Oh, I bet you have, babe.” 

“Like you haven’t had your practice, too, honey.” 

“Okay - let’s stop bringing up the past, alright?” He tugged the glass door open behind you, then pushed you through it. Laughter filled his house as the door shut behind him. 

“You started it!” 

“I literally didn’t! You brought up your hours of practice!” 

“I never said it was hours!” 

“I’m filling in the blanks!” 

“Oh my god.” You were making quick steps to the stairs - he followed like a lost dog. 

“Is this our first fight?” 

You were halfway up the staircase when you turned and looked down to him, still stood at the bottom. The lighting around you was dim and your grin was blinding him. “Only if you don’t let me sleep over tonight.” Your hands were on your hips, your eyes were drawing him in. “And this isn’t our first fight. Our first fight was over a Snickers bar.” 

“And I don’t think we ever made up, now that I think about it.” 

He took the stairs two at a time to get to you, and he gave you his smuggest grin. 

“Really? We’re still fighting over it?” 

“Til the end of time,” he stated. “But I can look past our differences just for tonight.” 

“That gives me time to make it up to you.” 

...

Did you know everything about Steve Harrington?

You thought you did. You spent years believing it. 

You knew more about him than the average person, sure - but how could you have been so smug? How could you act like such a know it all? 

You learn new things about him every day, now. Even when you thought there was nothing left that you didn’t know. 

As it turns out, you knew next to nothing about him. And you liked it that way. It made doing life with him that much more exciting. 

You sat with him now in the passenger seat of his car. The morning sun cast everything in gold, making the day feel brand new. You watched as he tapped his finger on the steering wheel, making a terrible beat. 

He kept shaking his head back and forth, and you only just realized that you had noticed him doing it before. It was a nervous tick. It never stood out to you until now - something new.

“Are you okay?” 

He seemed to freeze at the sound of your voice, as if he had forgotten you were even there. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You took his hand and brought it up to your lips. 

He continued, “I don’t know if I can do this,” and he looked out the window rather than at you.

You squeezed his hand tight. “I know you can, baby. You did it last week.” 

“It was fucking hard.” 

“It’ll be easier this time. Why won’t you look at me, babe?” 

He did; his eyes were down turned and sad. 

You kissed his hand again. “You don’t have to force yourself, Steve. If it’s really too hard -”

“I have to. I know I do.” 

You gave him a sad smile, then sat up and across the console to kiss his cheek. He leaned into it, and you lingered there. “You’ll be proud of yourself. I’ll be proud of you.” 

“I know.” 

You turned his face toward yours, and he was nothing but stressed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Steve? It’s okay if you can’t push yourself today.”

He sighed loud, and you knew he was trying to be overdramatic. “I’m okay, honey. I just… get like this.” 

You giggled, “I know.” 

“I can’t help it.”

“I know, babe,” and you pressed your lips against his quick. “You’re okay. I’ll be out here the whole time waiting, okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

You handed him the bouquet of flowers and bag of snacks from your lap. “Lucas is expecting you.” You passed him a stack of old books, ones Steve had picked from your collection that he thought Lucas and Max would enjoy.

He took them, and then he kissed you again, just for the sake of it. “Thank you.” 

He opened his door, and as he stepped out of the car, you found three words on the tip of your tongue threatening to fall out of your mouth - and you slapped a hand over your lips when you realized what they were. 

When he shut the door and you were out of the danger zone, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

You were nervous because of him. 

That was new, too. 

You watched through the windshield as he walked toward the hospital doors, and you said those three words to yourself, and tucked that new discovery into your back pocket. 

It was all new horizons with Steve, from there on out. 

He was brand new to you, and you absolutely loved him for it.  

-

part one!

thank u for reading. kiss

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 17

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: none

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After waking up on the couch feeling slightly hungover and entirely dirty and stiff, I spend well over an hour in the shower, scrubbing off my makeup, washing the hair spray out of my hair and cleaning off the sweat from last night’s dancing. Feeling fully refreshed and clean, I wrap myself in a towel and lay on the bed. As I lay there staring at the ceiling the memories from last night flash back: my dance with Jensen, the ride back to the apartment, the conversation in the hall. I sit bolt upright. 

“Shit.” 

I jump up and search for my purse among the wedding boxes and pull out my phone but it’s flat. I take it back to my room and plug it in and wait impatiently for the screen to light up. I tap the screen multiple times, despite knowing it won’t speed up the process. While I wait, I pace around the room. I try to sort through everything that was said last night. I suddenly remember the plan I made. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” 

I run back to my phone on the bedside table and tap the screen impatiently three more times. When the screen finally lights up, I unlock it and scroll through for notifications, but there are none. I check the time: 10:47 am. I toss up with my options. Do I text Jensen and call it all off? I know I won’t get another chance if I do, he’s sure to get fed up with my hot and cold attitude. So, do I instead call Stewie and ask permission to use the cafe after close? But how could I possibly ask for or explain that. So, instead, do I wing it and hope for the best? Sneak in and clean up and lock up after and hope he never finds out? How could I possibly pull that off? I know there’s cameras on the street. 

I start to pace again as I begin to hyperventilate. What the hell have I gotten myself into? The one person I want to call and vent to, I know I can’t. Even if we are back to normal again, I refuse to disturb her honeymoon with my stupidity and drama. I pick my phone up and scroll through my contacts looking for anyone who could possibly comfort me and give me answers in Stella’s absence. I hover over Jensen’s contact, considering calling the whole thing off, but I force myself to scroll past it. I then hover over my mom’s contact. Just as I’m about to call her, an email notification pops up at the top of the screen. I go to push it away but it catches my eye. 

AUDITIONS FOR NEW YORK’S PRODUCTION OF GREASE OPEN AT 10am WEDNESDAY!

I tap on it to read the full email and I notice it’s fully addressed to me and time stamped at 5am. Is this the audition Stella submitted me for? We’ve watched the film together almost as many times as Moulin Rouge, so it must be. How is this the only reminder? I scroll through to the spam folder and low and behold there are three other emails informing me of the audition pages, date and time. I open the script and scan through it. Thanks to Stella’s surprise and the stupid auto spam folder, I now only have a few days to memorise the lines and figure out how I want to deliver them, pick a song to sing and prepare to learn the choreography. Sure, I could skip it, but I promised Stella, plus, it’s the role of a lifetime if I get it. There’s a reason there are four résumé emails sitting in my drafts; those job descriptions don’t make my heart race the way auditions and broadway do. 

Now with a new focus, I throw on a pair of warm jeans, a sweater, boots and brush my hair. As I grab my favourite bag and search for my library card the still-blank NDA catches my eye. I leave it there as I rearrange my everyday wallet to put my ID and money back in from the fancy wedding purse. On the way out the door I grab an apple and rush downstairs, onto the street and over a few blocks to the library. 

Inside the massive, historical-looking building I make a bee-line for the computer room. I log in to my emails and send the document to the printer. After logging out I take my pages and head to one of the private rooms to familiarise myself with the lines. I read through them in my head a few times before trialling them out loud. 

“Oh, Danny, you don’t know how much this means to me! Now I know that you really care about me … What’s gotten into you? I thought we were just going to be steadies! I’ve never seen you like this. Just because you give me your ring doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. I’m still the same girl as last summer. I’m sorry, Danny. Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.”

As I read the words aloud, my accusation sparks through my mind. I feel like an idiot for accusing him of coming all this way just to get laid. I collapse on a beanbag and hang my head between my knees. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I force myself to stand up and keep practising the lines. At least for now I need to forget myself and channel her sweet, innocent and pure nature. 

I read through the monologue with various intonations until my throat feels dry and hoarse. My stomach growls loudly and I stuff the slides into my bag and wander out onto the street where it’s lightly snowing; but not the nice type of fluffy white snow, it’s more like freezing rain. I groan as I traipse through the puddles towards the cafe. The second I pull open the glass door, the warmth and smell of fresh bread envelops me. I sigh happily as I wipe my feet and make my way over to the glass display case to see what’s still available so late in the day. Once I finally get to the front of the line I order a warm almond croissant and a mocha latte. 

As I sit down and wait for my colleague to bring over my order I pull out the NDA. I continue reading through it. As I read, the food gets delivered and I savour each delicious bite as it warms me from the inside. When I finally get to the end of final page I reach down to pull out a pen, but as I sit up my elbow makes contact with the mug and the last mouthful of dark liquid spills over the open document. I try dabbing at it with napkins. But that just makes it worse; smudging the words and tearing the drenched pages. I sigh as I drop my head to the table in defeat. 

I don’t notice the room empty out around me until my coworker comes over to clear the table. He hovers closeby taking in my desheveled state. “I take it your friend’s wedding went well?” I look up at him confused. “Stilll battling that hangover?” He says as he gestures at his head.

“Oh…Yeah, I guess. It’s been a big few weeks.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He stands there kinda awkwardly for a minute.

I finally realise what he’s waiting for. “Oh, sorry, I’ll let you clean up. Sorry.”

“Thanks.” As I pack away my things I hear the door bell jingle and my colleague walks back towards it and says. “Hey, sorry, we’re actually closed.”

“That’s not what the sign says,” I hear an instantly recognisable deep voice jest.

I look over at the two men conversing in the doorway and I will the ground to swallow me whole. I know I’m a mess. I had meant to go home and change, especially after the rain, but then the coffee and…I sigh. I swing my bag over my shoulder as I stand up straight to face the music. Jensen looks over at me as he notices movement. He gives me a small smile before a look of concern sets in. I make my way over to them. Not sure how else to defuse and take charge of the situation I make the most of my seniority over my coworker. “Hey Jonah, could you pack up the leftover food for this man please? Just as an apology for the inconvenience. The sign should be flipped first, if it’s not we’re still technically open,” I say as I walk past Jensen to flip the sign. I feel a little bad for being harsh on Jonah, I know he’s just finished high school and has only been doing solo closes for about a month, but I had to learn things the hard way too, so I brush it off.

“Right, sorry. Of course.”

Once Jonah finishes packing up the last few remaining pastries he places them on the counter. Jensen pulls out his card, “How much, man?”

Jonah glances over at me briefly before nervously starting to punch in the numbers.

“Did you already close the till?” I ask as I lean against the counter to glance at the machine. He nods awkwardly, clearly scared. I grab the box and hand it to Jensen. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. These are on the house. Enjoy.”

Jonah’s jaw drops. “But…Stewie, he said…” he glances nervously at Jensen and then back at me. He drops his voice, “We can’t afford anymore handouts…We need…”

“They just go in the bin or to the homeless otherwise, what’s the harm?”

“Not anymore, he said we have to wrap them up and sell them discounted next day. New year, new rules”

“New year, new rent increase, more like…Shit. Alright…If he notices, tell him he can take it off my next pay.”

Jensen pipes up from behind me, “Is there a problem? I can pay, I don’t mind.” I shake my head. He pulls his wallet back out and sorts through the notes. “How much would it have cost? Can you ring that up?”

Jonah looks at me for confirmation and I nod at the till. He punches in the numbers and reads out the final price: $42.87. Jensen pulls out a fifty and places it on the counter. 

“I can’t give you change, sir.”

“Consider it a tip.”

The younger boy looks at me at a loss at what to do. “I open tomorrow, put the fifty in the drawer, write down the prices and I’ll sort it. You good to finish closing on your own?”

He nods, “Thanks.”

I nod and follow Jensen outside. A few steps away he says, “You really had to work today?”

“No, I just…I get discounts there, though it sounds like that’s gonna stop soon. It’ll be such a shame to see this place go. Stewie’s so passionate.”

He leans against a building and I join him. “You don’t get enough trade?”

“We do, especially since those photos got leaked, rent’s just insane and the cost of ingredients. But you didn’t come all this way to discuss how I might lose my job.”

He then notices the wad of dirty scrunched up paper in my hands. He gestures his head towards it, “You need a bin?”

I sigh and hold it up. “It was an accident, I swear! I was going to sign it, I promise!”

“Is that the NDA?” He bursts out in laughter. “After everything, it’s a bit late for that, don’t ya think?” He tears it in half and then walks towards a bin on the corner. I follow him in disbelief.

“But…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it.” He holds up the box of food. “You got somewhere we can eat this? Since we got kicked out of where you told me to meet you.”

I know that no where else in the area will let us bring outside food in; everyone’s struggling just as much as each other. A cold breeze blows past and I shiver. Without saying anything I let my tired, freezing body and feet lead the way. 

Once Jensen recognises the apartment he asks, “We gonna eat in the hall or you gonna invite me in tonight?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. You can come in as long as you promise not to comment on the mess.”

“How messy are we talkin’?”

I don’t comment as we get into the elevator.

I turn up the thermostat before quickly doing my best to tidy up as Jensen stands in the doorway taking in the tiny apartment. I freeze as I notice him staring. “I bet your hotel room’s bigger than this…I know it’s not much…”

He quickly pushes off the door and comes over to me. “No, No…It’s…It’s nice…cute.”

I roll my eyes and walk away to tidy off the coffee table. “I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t have any plans for tonight. I wasn’t thinking. I just…I don’t know. I guess I was drunk and exhausted…”

He places the box on the now-clear table and reaches for my hand. “I don’t need big plans.” He pulls back and runs his hands through his hair and sighs, “See, this is why it was easier when you didn’t know who I was. Now you have all these preconceived ideas about me…I liked the way you looked at me and spoke to me before.”

Seeing him feeling just as uncomfortable and nervous as me helps me relax a little. “Me too…”

“I wanted you to know me as Jensen, not,” he shakes his head, “Not Supernatural star Jensen Ackles.”

I sit down on the couch. “But that is part of who you are. But maybe…Maybe I could get to know both?”

He sits down on the other end of the couch leaving a space between us. “I’d like that.” A silence fall over the room. Wanting to ease the tension, he leans forward and opens the box. “So is this stuff any good? You were trying to give it away so?”

“It’s not Stewie’s, but yeah. I just…I know I’m a mess, I was trying to, I don’t know…seem like I was in control. I missed the last team meeting due to wedding stuff and so I didn’t know the rules had changed. I always used to bring home the leftovers.” I sigh, “There I go again, showing off how desperately poor I am.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that.” He leans over and takes my hand again. “Please, don’t be ashamed of that. We all travel at our own pace, and there’s a lot of luck in who gets where in life. A few different decisions and I might still be there too.”

Getting emotional at his words, I pull away and change the subject. “You should try this.” I reach over the take out a peanut butter and apple strudel and tear it in half and hold out one half to Jensen. It’s not till after I take a bite that I realise about nut allergies. “Wait! You’re not allergic to nuts right?”

He shakes his head and smiles as he takes a big bite and chews slowly savouring the flavours. “Peanut…Cinnamon…Apple…” I nod. As he looks he me he chuckles. I wipe my face on my already soiled sleeve, the scent of old coffee fills my nose. He notices the look on my face and places his clean hand on my knee. “Hey, hey, stay with me. Right here.”

“I’m a mess…” Tears start to well up, and Jensen scoots over closer. “I wish you could see me how I was last night…before the third or fourth glass…During our first dance.”

“Hey, we were both a mess when we met. A bit of spilt coffee won’t scare me off. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“It’s not just that…”

“Tell me then. Talk to me, that’s why I’m here. I promise I won’t leave…unless you want me to.”

Completely exhausted and unable to hold in my emotions as he rubs soft circles on my back, I tell him all the things I would generally vent to Stella about. I tell him about my recent mental health struggles, my failed auditions and how I have have one coming up in a few days, how the cafe’s going downhill, how I feel like such a failure. He listens intently without offering advice or telling me how I could do things differently. And when I finish talking, I surprisingly feel lighter. He wipes his thumbs along my wet cheeks.

His eyes glance down at my lips but he quickly flicks them back up to meet my gaze. “You’re not a mess. You’ve just been through a lot.” I want to make a self-depricating comment but it dies in my throat as I look at him. He puts some space between us but takes my hands softly. “You’ve been doing so much on your own for so long…But if you’ll let me I’d gladly help halve your load. Even if it’s just by giving you someone to unload on like this.”

“Jensen…”

As if he can sense me trying to pull away, he changes the subject. “Tell me more about this audition. You should be preparing for that.” I pull away to go and get the slides. When I sit back down he sees the title on the front page. “Sandy, right? Or are you more a Frenchie girl?”

“I mean, Sandy’s the dream right?”

“So, that makes me Danny Zuko. The T-Bird chasing his Pink Lady.” I shake my head as I blush and bite my lip. “Yeah, you got this. There’s Sandy, right there. Alright, monologue or are you gonna be reading with someone?”

“Monologue.”

“How do you feel about that? I prefer reading off someone, I can feed off their energy.”

“You never know who you’re gonna get paired up with though. At least with a monologue I can fully prepare.”

“Perfect then. You wanna practice?”

“In front of you? No.”

He stands up, holds his hand out to me and I take it, he pulls me up and leads me to where there’s a bit more space behind the couch. “Alright, you don’t have to read for me, but loosen up for me. You’re stiff and nervous, which is completely normal, but I want you to ace this one. Is it a standard three-part broadway audtion?”

I nod. “Monologue, song, choreo.”

He pulls out his phone. “What song?”

“Jensen…I…”

“Hey, it’s just you and me, just like last night on the dancefloor. Just focus on me. What song?”

“I haven’t picked yet…”

“Let’s loosen up with this one then,” he presses play and an upbeat tune begins to play as he places his phone on the back of the couch and takes both of my hands and makes me move with him. He looks straight into my eyes as he sings along with John Travolta. 

“I got chills, they're multiplying

And I'm losing control

'Cause the power you're supplying

It's electrifying”

Despite Olivia Newton John starting to sing her verse, I don’t. “Come on, Darlin’. You can do it. I know you know it.”

“I need a glass of wine for this.”

He shakes his head as he smiles at me and leads us into the next verse. His carefree nature calms me and I give myself over to the music. By the end of the song we’re both laughing and a little out of breath as he pulls me into his chest.

“See, I knew you knew it! You sing like that in the audition and you’re sure to get the part.”

I lean my head back to look up at him and he can’t help but tilt his head down and close the gap. As if by pure instinct, I kiss back. It’s short and sweet as he pulls back gently, but it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, it feels like a lifetime.

He whispers against my lips, “Please, no more running…Say you’ll be mine.” I sober up quickly and pull back, he instantly loosens his grip so I can break free. He puts his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Was that too fast? I didn’t…”

“It’s been a long time for me…I need you to know that. And certain fears don’t just disappear. I can’t just jump into it like you want me to. This won’t work if you want or need more now. I’m not ready. I refuse to string you along anymore. And I don’t expect you to wait for me.”

“I’m not in a rush. I just got caught up in the moment. We can take this as slow as you need to, I want to wait for you, but I don’t want you to disappear on me. Don’t run, don’t ghost me. If something’s not working for you, tell me.”

“Jensen, you don’t…”

“I know. I said I want to. I don’t mind keeping my hands to myself if that’s what you need. Once I start filming again, we’ll be back on the phone anyway, and I just know that our conversations have quickly become some of the best minutes of my day and I felt lost when they stopped. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to kiss you again, but I won’t, not unless you want me to.”

I grab Jensen’s phone and pause the soundtrack, I stare at his lockscreen, it’s a picture of him with a beautiful white mare. I run my thumb over the horse’s nose, and breathe out, “Snowball…”

He tilts his head, “What was that?”

I shake my head and hold his phone out to him. “The horse, she reminds me of mine. Snowball. She’s one of the things I miss most about Texas…I miss riding, I miss the outdoors, hiking…”

“It’s a great state. New York’s not so bad, but I’d love to do all of that with you.” He tentatively steps closer and holds his hand out between us. I place my hand in his. “You tell me what you’re okay with. We move at your pace.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you for understanding.”

“Any decent guy would. But you’re worth waiting for, I can tell. You overthink a lot, but in the few carefree moments when you finally let down your walls…” He looks into my eyes. “Can I…” I nod. He tilts his head but waits for me to close the gap. He doesn’t attempt to lead me or deepen it, he just follows my lead and signals until I pull back. “See, I knew I wanted to do that again.” As my eyes blink open I notice the clock on the wall just past his face.

“It’s late…” I take a step back and look around and notice the still-full box of pastries. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a terrible host. You had half a strudel and I never even offered you a drink.”

He pulls me back to him. “I didn’t ask either. You can drop the bricks and mortar, Darlin’. I’ve enjoyed tonight.”

“I’m sure you got more than you expected, with my whole meltdown and all. I’m so sor-.”

He cuts me off with a soft peck. “I wanted you to talk to me. I’m sorry it came in the form it did, I didn’t mean for you to get so upset. But we all get emotional sometimes, and that’s okay. And even when I have to go, I’ll only be a call or text away. I’m happy to be a shoulder.” 

“When? When are you-” I ask, but I’m cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He tries to ignore it but I step back and lean against the back of the couch. “It’s probably your driver. You should get that.”

He gives me an apologetic smile before stepping away to answer. I use the time to put the pastries in the fridge and tidy up as I try not to eeves drop.

Once he hangs up, he comes over and pulls me back into his arms. “I fly out Tuesday morning. There’s a few things I need to do back in Austin before going back to Vancouver. Can I see you again tomorrow night?”

“I’ve gotta open the store in the morning. And I have to prepare for this audition…”

“I’m only here one more night. Please. I’ll help you prep or we can sit and watch movies. I don’t mean to push you, it’s just…”

“It could be months before we can be in the same room again, I get it. As long as you don’t mind staying cooped up here again?”

“Not at all. I’ll bring dinner.” He slowly leans in as he gauges my reaction. Just before our lips meet he softly says, “Clif’s waiting downstairs. I should go.”

“You should,” I whisper back before closing the gap.

He eventually forces himself to pull away. “Text me when you finish work?”

I nod, “I can do that.”

“Good night, Darlin’.”

“Good night, Jensen.”

I can tell he wants to make a teasing comment at my use of his name but holds himself back as he strides towards the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 11

(Chapter 10; Chapter 12)

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Hunger

“All of it…?” you repeat in a whisper, as you watch him swallowing the last piece of heart.

He lowers his head down to your level.

“All of it.” he whispers against your face.

Sukuna’s gaze locks with yours. He’s so close to you, the maskless side of his face being enlightened by the flame thats burning in the fireplace. You blush, remembering your denied kiss. The way his eyes look at you make your knees weak every goddamn time.

Maybe I am special.

“My King?”

“Mhh?” his eyes fall down to your lips again, the corners of his lips turn into a smirk. His soft gaze makes your own heart long for him.

“Did I make you feel good?” your eyes fall to his lips. Heart starts to race. “Last night?”

You’re almost getting sick from the adrenaline and there’s still the heart that’s being digested. His breath on your face, your King is so close, his energy embracing you.

Sukuna pauses.

So close.

Smirk widening, he leans in, comes closer and moves his head past your face, going for your right ear.

“So good.” he breathes and softly bites your earlobe.

So weak.

You feel like you’re about to collapse. He chuckles.

“You’re dismissed, kitten.” he whispers and your heart drops.

Mind goes blank. Once again you’re forgetting all the monstrosities he committed. His touch, his energy, his being is so addicting to you. You just want to be near him. You need to.

“I don’t want to go” you whisper with closed eyes, leaning into his face on your ear, brushing your cheek against his mask. “Please, my King”. Your lips graze his ear.

So warm.

“You said yourself I’m not allowed to leave. So don’t make me.” you plead in a whisper, earning a purr from him. His nose traces along your neck. It’s tickling your skin, his breath giving you goosebumps.

“Feel me.” you breathe.

Suddenly he lifts you up with a growl, throwing you over his shoulder. The ground so far away, as you’re being moved through his bedroom and gently thrown onto his bed. Sukuna groans softly as he pulls you by the hips against him, making you be on all fours again. You can feel his bulge against your ass.

“My King?-ahh“ you get interrupted as you feel two of his powerful hands rip open your kimono. The sound of ripping fabric cuts through your ears, as your bare back gets exposed to him. You’re shocked by his actions, but his strength sends your heartbeat into your cunt. The kimono was ruined anyway.

“Permission to see your face, my King” you plead. You want to see him, need to see if you can make him feel good, need to gain some self confidence again. Sukuna hesitates. Feeling his fingers press into your hips for a moment, he lets go with an annoyed huff. You slowly turn around, holding the useless piece of fabric onto your front. Sitting up on your knees, you look into his face, while slowly sliding out of the remaining kimono. Instead of looking into your eyes, Sukuna watches your hands move. Intently. As you expose your breasts, you notice the twitch of his lips. Slowly you learn to read his mimic. Throwing the fabric off the bed, you notice he still avoids looking at your face.

Unusual.

Crawling closer to him, you move your eyes into his sight. Your eyes lock. His gaze turns so soft, so calm, but aroused at the same time.

“Permission to touch you, my King”, you whisper. He nods once, rising his head, looking down at you. You break eye contact and gently touch the bulge that’s sitting behind the fabric of his sirwal. The pants sit so low on his hips, making his V-Line appear so prominent. His bulge feels huge, soft and hard at the same time. Your hands move up, along his V-Line, mustering the soft veins that are spread on the muscles of his abdomen. Fingers gently find their way to the slit where the maw appeared earlier. He softly twitches in response to your touch. Your fingers graze the edges of it and you think about the monstrosity that was revealed to you earlier.

Ryomen Sukuna is truly a monster.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, as you think about how this fact… excites you. The fear that he put you in made your adrenalin go up through the roof. However, the thought of taming the monster, gives you a feeling of power. A feeling you never had in your life before.

Fingertips trace along the slit, as a desire forms in your mind. Face only inches apart from his skin.

You look up to him with questioning eyes. Feeling one of his hands creep up your head and forming a fist in your hair, he responds with the challenging gaze he graced you a few times with and you understand. Sukuna gently pushes against the back of your head, as you close the gap between you and his skin. Softly you press your lips against the skin of his torso, exactly where the slit is. His tummy twitches again at the contact and he groans softly.

Sensitive?

Your lack in experience shows, as pressing your lips against his skin is all you can come up with. Feeling his hand shift from your hair to the right side of your face and another hand coming up to your left, Sukuna is holding you in place. A deep rumble reaches your ears, as the maw in front of you opens with a smack of its lips. It’s tongue sliding out, giving you a lick on your lips. It excites you.

“Open up.” Sukuna whispers.

You hesitate, but slowly open your mouth at his command. The tip of his tongue slides into your mouth, touching yours, sliding against it, tasting your saliva and you taste his.

Your King groans loudly.

The taste of iron and copper still present on the tongue. You start to mimic the muscles motions with your own. Slowly but surely, your tongues start dancing with each other. Its surface feels rough and wet. The feeling arouses you more and more. You feel your head being pulled back by his hands, a string of saliva still connecting you and his tummy tongue. You look up to him and see red eyes glowing behind dilated pupils. Your King is breathing heavily, mouth agape.

“Can you taste me?” you ask in a whisper.

His lip twitches and he nods. You can’t surpress the smirk twitching in the corner of your lips, before you lean in again. Your hands find their way around his torso, feeling the firm muscles on his lower back. This time you’re sliding your tongue along the wet muscle, grazing the sharp teeth, then licking against the upper area of where his skin parted.

Twitch. A groan.

You start to move your lips against this part of his skin, kissing it, sliding your tongue across it. Sukuna starts rubbing gently against your cheek with his right thumb. You feel his body move and you look up, seeing his head now thrown back, only his throat and adams apple visible to you. Leaning back, you lick his tongue again. It’s huge compared to a normal tongue and it could easily lick across your whole face. You slide your lips and tongue against his, feeling the wet sensations, tasting him, hearing him. The thought of him enjoying you, your taste, your mouth. You love it.

He pulls you away again and looks down at you with such an aroused face. Pride fills your heart. Sukuna raises a hand from one of his bottom arms and gently pushes on your sternum with his index finger. You understand. Laying down on your back, a cold breeze comes in, making you shiver. Nipples go hard and goosebumps spread over your whole body.

“I’m cold, Master Sukuna”

He answers with a short purr, as he crawls on the bed, kneeling right in front of you and grabs your hips with two of his hands, hoisting your pelvis on his lap. His gaze wanders across your whole body, his right hand lays itself on your belly. So huge, it almost covers you from side to side. It slides along your torso up between your breasts, leaving a trail of dried blood on your skin. His bodyheat radiates onto you and you immediately start to feel warm. You look at his face, watch him looking at your body. Sukuna’s gaze is different from the first time he saw you naked. Your King seems so gentle right now.

Aroused, but not hungry.

Sukuna’s hand reaches further up, until it rests on your throat. It immediately sends an intense feeling through your whole body. You’re dwelling in it as you close your eyes, enjoying his touch on you.

“Eyes on me.” Sukuna demands in a raspy voice. You do as he says and the familiar sound of his tummy mouth rumbling and going open reaches your ears, as you suddenly feel the wet muscle slide across your bare core.

“Ahhh” you moan, your eyebrows furrowing instantly. Sukuna doesn’t break eye contact. Slowly, you can see it. The hunger in his eyes. You notice his bottom pair of eyes dance around the lust ridden features of your face.

Another lick.

Another moan.

He growls. The lust in your King’s gaze growing more and more, the more he tastes you. Eyes black, brow furrowing, mouth agape, quickened breath. That’s what you wanted to see. That’s what you saw last night, when the bitch was sucking him and he was looking at you.

It was you.

Your hands find the wrist of the hand that is laying on your throat and you start to pull it against you, let his hand push you deeper into the mattress.

“More.” you moan.

“Slut.” he curses, not complaining about your demand this time.

The grip on your hips grows tighter, as he starts to move you against the tongue on his belly. Your clit growing more sensitive by the second. It feels so good and you moan loudly for your King, watching him, feeling him. His movements become rough, but not necessarily faster. Licking and lapping. Your eyes are observing the veins on his arms that become visible, the more he moves you. Observing how the muscles of his chest and biceps slightly swell at the constant motion. You can feel the knot in your abdomen grow tighter and tighter.

So close. So, so close.

Suddenly, something ignites in you. Adrenaline. It’s the thrill of this monstrosity lapping and licking at your most sensitive and private bodypart, knowing it could easily swallow you. Break you. End you. Yet it’s only giving you pleasure. So wet and juicy. It makes your mind go blank. Sukuna drops his gaze and stares at his flat tongue sliding across your cunt. Over and over again. Slowly going faster. Wet and sloppy sounds fill the room, as well as your moans and his heavy breaths.

So close.

His breath quickens, his eyes grow desperate and

he moans. So loud. So deep. So raspy.

It sends you over the edge. You dig your nails into his wrist as you cum, push him more against your throat, drown in the bliss that the sight of him and his ministrations give you. Moaning through your high, your body trembles from the feeling he gave you.

Not enough.

Mind so clouded from the desire and lust, you need to pleasure him, too.

“Fuck, my King. Please let me…” your hunger for him growing tenfold, as you pull on his wrist to get him off your throat. “Need to…” you say mindlessly as you slip out of his grip, leaning forward, grabbing hastily into the rim of his sirwal. Not bothering to look at him, ignoring every reaction he could give you. You need him.

Off. off. off.

Your lips crash with the muscles of his abdomen, mouthing curses against it, as you desperately tug at his pants to come off. Noticing it’s impossible with him still kneeling at the edge of the bed, you start to push your small hands against his broad chest, trying to push him towards the cushions right next to you. He‘s not moving.

“Please, my King!” your eyes shoot back into his face. His gaze so hungry. “I need you in my mouth so bad.” you plead. Desperate hands find their way on the sides of his face. “I need to give you what you gave to me. Need to make you feel good!” you whine into his face. So close to his face.

Kiss me.

His hungry eyes jump between yours and your lips, looking like he’s dwelling in your whines and whimpers and begs. Constant purrs escaping your Kings throat, as you feel two hands of his creep up your back, holding you.

Please.

Suddenly he shifts, leaning to your left. Slipping out of your hands, away from you. Sukuna hoists you up onto him, as he lays down into the cushions. In the corner of your eyes you see his bottom pair of arms push down his pants behind you, making his dicks slap against his abdomen. His left hand that had been resting on your back, grabs your hair harshly. A snarl escapes his throat, as he yanks you close towards his face, his eyes glowing so bright.

“Go on then” he growls into your face. His hungry behaviour fuels your own. You almost feel like becoming a monster, too.

So hungry.

You crawl backwards, lowering your body while doing that, so that your breasts slide along his torso, so that your belly slides along his dicks. They leave trails of precum on your skin. His hand not leaving the back of your head. Legs moving into the space between his thighs, you make yourself comfortable. His cocks in front of your face, laying so hard against his belly. Tips so red and leaking. Shafts decorated with veins, almost pulsating. It makes you salivate. You need to taste him so bad, the desire growing stronger, as you notice his plump balls being in the need of release. Taking both of his dicks into your hands, one in each hand, you feel him for the first time. Skin so soft, so sensitive, skin moving with every movements of your hands.

“So pretty” you mumble, admiring them. Hearing him purring at your words, you feel his hand leaving the back of your head, resting on his thigh next to you. Leaning in, you give his cocks a lick. Tongue sliding from one tip over the other, collecting the precum that has been collecting there. He hisses.

Bitter. Salty. Sweet.

Taking both in your mouth is no option, so you do as you learned. You inhale and

spit.

Your saliva coats his upper dick, as you grab it with your left hand, mixing it with the slick. Being slightly nervous about what you’ve just done, you peek up to see his reaction. His lip twitching.

“Nasty bitch” he hisses “More!”

Your breath hitches at his command. Blood rushing into your face. You look down again and start to pump his upper dick, as you spit on his bottom dick aswell, earning a low chuckle in response. You start to lick a long stripe against his shaft, trying to feel a difference in skin texture on his tattoed ring. There’s none. Looking up to him as you do so, his eyes bore into yours.

“Want to make you feel good, my King” you mouth against the underside of his tip, earning a groan from him. Your eyes wander back to the cock in your left hand, still pumping softly. Hands being so small around his cock, you can’t even close your fist around them.

Lack of experience.

“Tighter.” he breathes, lifting his hand, that’s been resting on his thigh and putting it around yours. You blush at the contact of his hand and start to squeeze tighter. Sukuna guides your hand up and down with a slightly circular motion, followed by a soft groan that escapes his lips. You repeat what he does and soon he lets go of your hand, letting it rest again on his thigh.

Don’t stop.

Your right hand reaches for his, placing it on top of your head, before you grab his bottom cock again.

“Guide me.” you whisper in his eyes, as you open your mouth and take his bottom cock in as much as you can. Red orbs flare up, his jaw clenching, as he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you down. Him filling out the whole of your mouth, the tip tickling the back of your throat, makes you wet in your cunt. You feel your lips sliding over his veins as he lifts your head up by your hair again.

“Fuck” he growls. “Use your tongue.”

You press your tongue against the underside of the space between his tip and shaft and try to lick it while keeping him in your mouth. Feeling his muscles trembling at your actions, you increase the motion, causing your mouth to suck itself more against his cock, massaging the sensitive spot. Your King moans loudly, spreading his legs more for you. It turns you on so much, wetness increasing more and more, when you hear him like that. His hand pushes you down again, up and down, up and down, up and down, until he lets your head rest on his tip again. Repeating the sucking and massaging with your tongue on the underside of his dick, Sukuna’s breath quickens, snarling with every breath he takes, moaning with every breath he exhales. Right hand joining your left, pumping his upper dick, you increase the pace of your motions. Head being pushed down again, you can’t help but moan desperately onto his dick, letting your throat vibrate against his sensitive tip.

“Ffffuuck” he growls, so deep, as he throws his head back into his neck.

Slowly you can feel your muscles giving in, jaw starts to ache, arms start to get weak. His right hand shoots up to grab both of yours, along with his upper cock, to pump harder, faster, his left hand still being in your hair, grabbing harshly. Sukuna’s thighs start shaking as you’re being pushed up and down again and as you start to repeat the ministrations with your tongue at his tip, his moans grow louder and louder, hips bucking as he starts to cum. Groaning so loud, you think you can feel it through your whole being. Cocks pulsating in your hand and on your lips. Coating his chest and your throat in his warm fluid. You try to swallow what you can, some just drips right out of your mouth, down on your chin. Some of it drips down on your fingers, as they rest on his twitching cock. It’s so messy and you love it.

You watch him coming down from his high, as you sit up between his legs, softly running your sticky hands over his muscular thighs, grazing the edges of his tattoos. After a moment, Sukuna finally lifts his head to look at you. A sadistic smirk spreads across his face. He huffs.

“Look at you.” he lifts himself up “Covered in mortal blood and my cum.” he whispers, as he takes your chin into his right hand, making you melt. “So filthy.” he coos, as his eyes fall to your lips again. It drives you insane. Silence in the room except the fire’s crackling. Air so thick.

“Permission to kiss you, my King” you whisper as you lean in, looking at him with doe eyes. His smirk grows wider.

“What was that?” he whispers back, rising his brow.

“Permission to kiss you, Master Sukuna!” you say out loud.

Eating up your lips with his soft wrinkly eyes, his smirk turns wider. Your King looks up into your begging orbs and coos:

“You look so pretty when you plead like that.”

[runnning-outof-time]

Don’t Turn Into Them | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tensions escalate when (Y/N)'s worry of Tommy becoming something he's not gets miscommunicated and blown out of proportions.

Warnings: language, smoking, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 3644

A/N: bit of a disclaimer, I’m not the best at writing arguments…I also wanted to pick a fight about something that isn’t one of the normal topics. With that being said, I hope this makes sense. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I’m adding this in late because I completely forgot to give a big thank you to @thesoldiersminute for making this gif for the story. Idk what I’d do without your amazing talents.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

———

Everyone was in high spirits as the poll master read out the votes. Tommy won the open seat in Parliament by a landslide, as was expected. (Y/N) slipped out of the main polling area just before pandemonium erupted. She knew that her six month old daughter, Ruby, wouldn't react well to the excitement, so she wanted to get as far away from it as possible.

She stood on the landing of the steps with Ruby in her arms and waited for her husband and his family to emerge after all of the well-wishes and procedural things were finished. She couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief as she got away from the crowd.

There was such an uneasy feeling surrounding the other men in the room; the men that Tommy would now be working with given that they were politicians as well. They all wore smiles and chatted as if they'd been friends for the majority of each other's lives, but (Y/N) knew that it was fake; that they were only doing that so that they could advance their own agenda when it came down to it. The fact that Tommy was one of them now worried her...she didn't want to see him turn into one of them.

These worrisome thoughts were pushed aside when the two men standing guard opened the doors and Tommy became visible. His eyes locked onto (Y/N) and Ruby immediately, and he couldn't stop the smile that formed on his face as he accepted his gun back from one of the men. His family filed out behind him as he tucked the firearm back into its spot in the holster under his coat. Tommy didn't stop for the people shouting about taking photographs, and instead he kept his eyes locked onto his wife as he walked down the steps.

"I didn't see you in there at the end, love," he whispered as he stopped in front of her.

"Had to get out...Ruby would have freaked," she answered, smiling at him. Tommy noticed that it didn't quite reach her eyes. Something seemed to be bothering her.

"Lemme see her," he said, his eyes focused on Ruby as he reached out for her; his smile widening. "Come 'ere, Ruby girl," he spoke to the child, who happily reached out for her father and let him take her into his arms. He lifted her in the air, smiling widely as she cooed with excitement, her smile matching his. (Y/N) smiled as she watched Tommy interact with their daughter.

"Mumma," Charlie, their four year old son, called out, making her look from Tommy and Ruby to the boy.

"Come here, Charlie," she called him over, reaching her hand out for him. Upon seeing this, he happily let go of Polly's hand to make his way over to the rest of his family.

Cameras were going off like crazy now, and (Y/N) tried her best not to bother with them. Tommy didn't seem to care as he brought Ruby down to rest on his hip. She felt like she needed to be more like him at the moment. But she couldn't seem to shake the incessant pestering coming from the people behind the flashes. "Didn't get my kiss yet," Tommy's whispered words brought her out of her thoughts, making her look over at him again. His smile made her smile as she leaned in and kissed his lips quickly.

"Mr. Shelby! Mr. Shelby, look over here!" one of the photographers called out after Tommy and (Y/N) pulled back to look at each other again.

He gave her a look, as if to ask her if she was ok with it, and she nodded before turning slightly to face the people calling for them. She placed her one hand on Charlie's shoulder and her other on Ruby’s back as she smiled for the picture with Tommy by her side.

The family then came to join in on the picture, filling in around Tommy, (Y/N) and their children. After several flashes, Arthur stepped forward and began waving his arms. "Alright, alright! You've got enough photos to go around now!" he called out as he continued with his attempts of clearing the photographers away from the steps. Everyone followed him once the path was cleared, and made their way out to the waiting cars that would take them to the ball that was being held in Tommy's honor.

——

"Mr. Shelby, congratulations," Frances said with a smile as she opened the door to greet the family that she worked for.

"Thank you, Frances," Tommy smiled at the older woman as he allowed her to help him out of his coat. He'd had a long day and was ready to unwind with some whiskey in his office.

"Frances, would you take the children up to bed?" (Y/N) asked as Frances helped her out of her coat while Ruby stayed sleeping in her arms.

"I can, Mrs. Shelby," France nodded after putting their coats in the front closet. She then accepted Ruby from (Y/N)'s arms and placed her comfortably on her hip.

"Goodnight, Charles," (Y/N) smiled down at her sleepy son, ruffling his hair as he smiled back up at her.

"Come on, Charlie," France said softly, her hand falling to his shoulder as she ushered him to the steps so that they could go up to his room.

(Y/N) watched her children until they disappeared down the hallway before she turned to look at Tommy. It surprised her slightly that he was still there. "I'm going to the reading room," she told him, a dismissive tone in her voice.

Tommy furrowed his brows at his wife, confused by the sudden shift in the tone she was using. She seemed so upbeat the entire night, but now she was acting like she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He couldn't let her get away without saying something about it.

"Something wrong?" he decided to stay simple with the question, an inquisitive tone present in his voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" (Y/N) spun around to face him, a glare on her face.

Her response made him even more confused, "yes, I would...that's why I'm asking," he pointed out.

She huffed at his answer. What he thought was a straight-forward response, she perceived as sarcastic. "You've not noticed at all this entire night?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised.

"Noticed what?" he still had not a clue what she was getting at.

"See that's the problem!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she threw her arms up, "you let it go; you don't notice things until they're about to blow up in your face!"

Tommy dropped his gaze to the floor, running a hand over his face before he looked up again. "Would you please just tell me what the fuck you're trying to get at here, (Y/N)?!" he explicitly asked for her to explain herself, his voice raising to meet hers now.

"It's right in front of your face...it's practically screaming at you!" she raised her voice even more, showing him that she was still in control. "I can't believe that you're too blind to see what's going on," she then bit on her lip, her emotions starting to mix in with the adrenaline she was feeling. She was always an angry crier...tears were expected to fall no matter how hard she tried to keep them back.

"What's going on?" he held his confused stance, and that seemed to infuriate (Y/N) even more.

"Just stop, Tommy!" she exclaimed, feeling like she wanted to pull her hair out. She felt like he was backing her towards the edge of a cliff, and she had no choice but to fight back or else she'd fall off.

"Stop what?"

"That! This act! You're questioning…everything you're doing right now, just stop it!" the only thing keeping (Y/N) from full-blown screaming at this point was the fact that the kids were upstairs.

"You know, if you're looking for a fight..."

"I'm not looking for a fight," she was quick to cut him off, leveling her voice once more.

"Then what the hell is this?" Tommy's eyes were wide and serious.

"I don't like what you're doing, Tommy!" (Y/N) blurted just about the second after he finished speaking. It was one of those utterances where she closed her eyes as she said the words as loud as she could; hoping that her doing so would make him forget what he was going to say in response.

Tommy paused after her admission, which meant that her plan was working. He blinked a few times, staring at her with his mouth slightly agape. "What?" he finally asked, his voice low now, noticing the stark drop in intensity after she said what she needed to.

"I don't like that you've been elected to serve in Parliament. I don't like that you've accepted that seat. I don't like that you're going to be rubbing elbows with those back-stabbing bastards..." she paused, her eyes locked onto his. She was ready to continue her monologue after a deep breath, "I don't like how you're going to learn how to play their game, where you say one thing to someone at one point and then turn your back and go completely against them the next. I don't like that you're going to be one of them," her volume had escalated slightly as she finished her statement, her emotions so obviously running high.

"I...I don't understand what you're trying to get at here," Tommy still had a hard time seeing the reasons behind her worry-driven, angry outbursts.

"Of course you don't," (Y/N) sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor as she shook her head.

"Well then fucking explain it to me so that I can understand it!" Tommy raised his voice once more. The fact that she was so quickly putting him off while speaking in veiled statements irritated him, and he was to the point where he couldn't continue anymore.

"These men are the worst of their kind...don't you see that?!" (Y/N) answered him like it was the most obvious thing in the world...well to her it was. "They're the worst of their kind and somehow they managed to sneak their way into these positions of power where they get to say how the people who have nothing should live. They get to play God and give ultimatums and use these helpless people like they're fucking chess pawns in their grand scheme," she kept her eyes locked with Tommy's as she spoke, hoping he'd recognize how terribly she felt about his choice.

"That's why I've taken this position," instead of recognizing, he insisted that there was a reason behind him doing this.

"To join them?!" (Y/N) asked incredulously.

"No, not to fucking join them," Tommy shut down her statement, "I aim to tear them down from the fucking inside. People like Mosley, and fucking Riggs...it's easy to get them to think that I'd stand with their bullshit, but I'm not going to," he then explained what his reason behind this move was.

(Y/N) wasn't pleased with his answer. She couldn't help but snort when she heard it. She shuddered at the mention of Stephan Riggs’ name…he was one of the fakest men in politics, and (Y/N) couldn’t bear to watch him act like he cared only to do what solely benefited him when it came down to it. "You say that now, but then you'll be singing like a fucking canary for them on the floor," she finally said, her words coming out with a tone of disgust laced into them.

"You think that I'd be their pawn?" Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Yes I do," (Y/N) doubled-down on her statement.

"And why is that?" Tommy asked, incredulousness present in his voice. He waited a moment for her response, but continued when he got none. "Eh? Why do you all of a sudden not have any trust or faith in what I'm doing?" There was another pause with no response. It felt like his blood was starting to boil now. "Fucking tell me, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed, finally letting the pent up emotion out.

"Because you'll be good at playing their game!" she was now ready with a response the second he stopped talking, "you'll be good at the game, and who's to say that you won't start buying into and believing the shit that they're trying to shove down the throats of the unsuspecting people who will then have no choice but to follow along with it. These bastards are evil, Tommy. They'll hurt innocent people and I won't have you joining in on it." she ended when her voice wavered, finally showing that she was holding back all of these overwhelming emotions. She hated it, and she tried to keep a steely gaze on Tommy as she waited for his response.

"These bastards are gonna do it anyway," he insisted, his voice dire as he kept his eyes locked on hers, "I'm putting myself in there to try and stop it."

"All feats start out with good intentions," she reminded him.

"You must not know who the fuck I am then," he disagreed with her.

"I guess I don't..." she trailed off.

Tommy didn't know what to say in response to her statement. He blinked a few times and pursed his lips together, hoping that these extra few silent seconds would reward him with the right words. But they didn't. He pressed against his temples with his thumb and middle fingers before he shook his head and exhaled a sigh. "I'll be in my office," he told her then, a dismissive tone now in his voice. He then walked past her to the steps and began walking up them.

"What about your family, Tommy?!" (Y/N) called after him, unhappy that he was walking away instead of continuing to talk to her; to sort this out. She still felt like she was fuming. She couldn't believe that he didn't consider what his family would have thought about this. "What about Ruby and Charlie? What about me?" she continued when she didn't get a response from him, desperation present in her voice.

Tommy kept walking up the stairs, and her anger was rising with each step he took. She added more onto her statement after a few more silent moments passed, "you always say that you think of us when you make decisions such as this, but I can't seem to recognize where we fall into it this time."

This statement got Tommy to stop. He was at the top of the stairs at this point. He looked down at (Y/N), who now looked absolutely wrecked by everything that had been said between them, before glancing down at the floor. "Nothing good's going to come of this if we continue," he told her then, his dismissive tone still present.

"Then go," (Y/N) told him, biting back her tears that were now threatening to fall, "go to your fucking office and drink your fucking whiskey and forget about what I even said," she told him, her words dripping with venom.

Tommy looked at her one last time before he turned and began walking down the hall to his office. (Y/N) let out a shudder of a sigh, finally letting her tears fall before she turned and walked into the front room. She decided that she would sit in there for some time before going up to her room for the night.

——

It wasn't until much later in the evening that Tommy finally entered the master bedroom. (Y/N) was still awake, sitting up on her side of the bed while reading a book. She glanced over at him as the door shut before focusing back on her book. Tommy didn't say anything either, instead focusing on getting himself undressed and ready for bed.

(Y/N) tried to continue reading her book until she couldn't anymore, finding herself more focused on her husband's night time routine than the words on the page. He remained oblivious to her watching until he happened to catch her eyes in the vanity's mirror while he was placing his pocket watch down.

Instead of joining her in bed, he sat down on the vanity's bench and picked a cigarette out of his tin. (Y/N) placed her book next to her before she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up completely. She watched Tommy for a few moments as he quietly smoked before finally standing up and making her way over to him.

She sat down on the empty space of the bench and hesitantly wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind so that she was able to lean against his back. Neither said anything as they sat there. (Y/N) was content with feeling his warmth and breathing in his scent.

Then Tommy spoke up: "I'll turn down the seat in Parliament if it's what you want," he told her. There was a hint of a conceding tone in his voice that she picked up on. She also didn't miss the fact that it sounded like he was saying this reluctantly.

His surrender caught her off guard, and it made her sit up straight again as she came to grips with it. "Why such a sudden change?" she asked him, having an inkling of the reason behind it...she wanted to hear it from him though.

"You've voiced your concern about me doing it," he answered her, discarding his cigarette in the ashtray on the vanity before he turned to face her, "I can't be doing something that my wife doesn't like."

(Y/N) had to stifle her giggle as she heard the second part of his statement. "This wouldn't be the first time you've done something I don't like, Tommy Shelby," she reminded him, smiling slightly as she spoke.

Tommy couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her words. "I know...I'm guilty of that," he admitted his defeat, "but this time seemed different. You've never been that quick to express your distaste in the past," he pointed out.

"I didn't think you'd listen," she said then, trying to keep her happiness pushed down. Right now she was feeling like a child who was told they could stay up past their bedtime.

"Figured it's time I'd changed that," he told her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked her in the eyes.

(Y/N) couldn't stop the smile that formed on her face as he said those words. She reached out and grabbed his face, her hands resting against his cheeks as she pulled him closer to her. "Thank you, Tommy," she breathed, her forehead resting against his briefly before she leaned in and kissed his lips.

"You're welcome, love," he answered her in a similar tone before he kissed her again.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck when they pulled away, and she leaned herself against his chest so that she could tuck her face into the crook of his neck. Tommy accepted the embrace and fastened his hands to her waist so that he could hold her tight against his body.

They sat silently in that position for some time, both comfortable against each other after talking through their previous argument. It was like a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders.

(Y/N) was the one to break the silence this time as she finally pulled away from Tommy's chest. She looked at him for a few moments, searching his eyes before she said what was on her mind: "I think you should keep the job, Tommy," she told him, her words making him furrow his eyebrows.

"Keep the job?" he asked her, like he was checking to see if he heard correctly.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I thought you didn't want me working with those men," he pointed out, harking back to the major point she'd made in their previous argument.

"I don't," she started off, making her stance on that point starkly clear. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows again, but let her continue, "I don't want you working with those men, but at the same time, I recognize the amount of good that you could do for the people of Birmingham if you keep that position. The people of that city need someone like you representing them...you’re one of them. You’re not one of those inconsiderate politicians who’ll run over anyone they could in order to make a gain. All I ask is that you don’t turn into them when you take this position.”

“I won’t,” Tommy’s answer to her ask was quick and spoken definitively, “you have my word, love.”

(Y/N) smiled as she heard his promise. “Good,” she said, taking hold of his cheeks so that she could kiss him again, her smile still present as her lips pressed against his. “We’ve had a long day…let’s go to bed,” she said once they pulled away.

A grin formed on Tommy’s face as his eyes matched hers. (Y/N) got butterflies in her stomach just from the look he was giving her. She knew what would leave his lips next. “I’ll go to bed with you, but I have no intentions of sleeping just yet,” he told her as he stood from the bench. He grabbed hold of her waist, making her shriek as she stood up with him. He then began peppering kisses across her skin, making her giggle as he led her over to their bed.

———

Tagged: @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08

MASTERLIST