#john mitchell x reader

[bowie-frommars]

Can we talk about the Aidan Turner renaissance?!

I've had a crush on this man since I was a kid and would watch Being Human religiously! This man deserves his flowers! Thank you Rivals for getting this man the recognition he deserves.

[stellamarielu]

show me

john mitchell x female reader

summary: bloodlust and sexual desire have become one in the same to mitchell making it increasingly difficult to have a normal relationship. so when you find yourself frustrated by the lack of physical intimacy, he figures out a way to solve the problem

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of death, a little bit of angst, a sprinkle of fluff, a shit ton of dirty talk, mutual masturbation [kinda], basically mitchell just wants to watch you get off, fingering, squirting? [lord forgive me]

authors note: first mitchell fic let’s go!! so, I wanted to start with something more tame for mitchell since it was my first time writing for his character, but i did no such thing. this is just full speed no brakes very smutty so if that’s not your jam just keep scrolling! there is some fluff and a little bit of angst but other than that it's just filth

-

It had been nearly a month since you learned the truth about Mitchell. What started as innocent interactions and flirtatious jokes turned into the two of you regularly going for drinks at the local pub. Before you knew it, your casual little dates led to you joining him and his roommates for movie nights at their home which always ended with you both cuddled up next to each other on the couch. 

Mitchell tried not to let you into his complicated life but failed miserably after the first time he felt that warm fuzzy sensation in his chest when he saw you. You had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one ever had, so much so that he started referring to you as his girlfriend, which of course made George and Annie annoyingly giddy. They absolutely adored you and thought you’d be good for Mitchell, someone to motivate him– to ground him. It all happened so quickly but you couldn’t help it, neither of you could. You were completely infatuated with one another; it was almost sickening. 

But of course, along with the fresh adoration of a new partner also came their baggage. It was something you expected. What you weren’t expecting however, were the skeletons in Mitchell’s closet to be so literal.

He had gone back and forth about telling you the truth and of course Annie had convinced him to be honest with you.

“If your feelings for her are real and you want a genuine relationship you have to tell her Mitchell.” 

He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the anxiety weighing on his chest at the thought of rejection. It was terrifying. The possibility that you would run screaming kept him putting it off day after day until one night the two of you were having dinner at your apartment and it just kind of stumbled out of his mouth. 

“A Vampire?” 

The words slipped from you in a giggle, your face full of amusement at his confession. You figured he must’ve been trying to make some kind of stupid joke until you noticed his dead serious demeanor.

When he refused to meet your tickled expression with a smile of his own, your brain started running laps around itself trying to piece together the last few weeks of your life. Confusion and fear filled your senses and for a split second it felt like you were sitting across from a complete stranger. Despite your inner dialogue telling you to run, you didn’t leave. You didn’t even get up from your seat. You just sat and waited for him to explain himself further. 

So he did. He told you everything.

It took hours of explanations from him and hesitant stares from you, but after a night of discussing his condition you were sure he was telling the truth, and you were also somehow open to it. 

Mitchell was surprised by how understanding you had been about the whole thing. After the initial shock, the two of you laid on your couch until the sun came up and you interrogated him about his supernatural lifestyle.

he answered every last question. 

You learned about the different cities he’d lived in, the people he had known throughout his long life, who he once was, who he still longed to become. You admired his desire to live differently than the others like him. 

Even after listening to the man next to you give hour’s worth of evidence proving he was a bloodthirsty killer, you still managed to fall asleep in his arms. At the end of the day, it was still Mitchell; Mitchell who mopped floors and made crude jokes, Mitchell who was always there to give you a comforting smile or lighthearted wink when you were having a rough day, Mitchell who you had fallen head over heels for, Mitchell who wanted to be human so badly that he was attempting sobriety from the very thing his body craved most. Nothing could change the way you felt for him and so you held it together when he told you a secret about himself that he was sure would have your relationship unraveling.  

Only he didn’t tell you everything. There was one little detail about his life that he left out that night. He told you about the countless people he killed– about the guilt that ate away at him as he remembered their faces. He even confessed to you that he had given in to his bloodlust not long before you met. All the grim details about his murderous tendencies were true, but he made sure to leave out the part about how he killed them. 

You knew that he drank away their lives, that he consumed their blood until there was nothing left of them. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you that it so often started by seducing a woman- getting her naked in bed, writhing and vulnerable underneath him. He hated that he’d weaponized sex for so long that he could no longer differentiate his longing for blood and his desire for sexual release– the two had become synonymous. It was so bad that anytime he found himself in a heated position with a woman he couldn’t tell if the passion he felt burning in his veins was actual yearning or just a desire to feed. This made his relationship with you extraordinarily difficult. 

You were so handsy. Of course you were. The two of you had been dating for nearly three months and the furthest you’d gone was a clothed second base. 

At first, Mitchell told you he wanted to take things slow, a little odd maybe, but you respected his boundaries and kept the physical touch to a minimum. But time went on, and the restraint you had both practiced began to falter. You started getting little tastes of what it would be like to have his hands on your body and his mouth on your skin it was driving you insane. Every time he kissed you, his lips lingered on yours and there was a certain hint of impatience that always peeked through. You could sense the hunger in the way he would crash his lips on you, his mouth molding to yours and his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Sometimes he would even let his hands find your hips gripping you tightly and pulling you into him as close as possible. Not to mention the little groans that would slip from him when you tugged on his hair. Those little grunts made you want to drop to your knees in front of him and see what other sounds you could pull from his mouth. 

You were constantly reminding yourself to take things slowly, but it was so hard when there was such a strong sexual tension tying the two of you together– or at least you thought there was; but based on the way Mitchell would break your kisses and take his hands off of your body like he just burned them on a stovetop, you were beginning to think maybe he wasn’t craving you in the same way.

Only there was no doubt in his mind that Mitchell wanted to fuck you. He was obsessed with you. He thought about what you looked like naked at least once a day and dreamed about hearing the little whimpers that you’d make when he was finally able to get between your legs. he wanted you, but he was terrified of possibly putting you in danger, so he tried to keep his hands to himself, Just for a little bit. 

At least that’s what he told himself at the beginning. He would work his way up to having sex with you. Like little practice runs, he would let himself give in to the temptation, a make out session here and there, maybe even some heavy petting- but he would always put an end to it before it went any further.

He had to pace himself with you. He needed to be able to control the blood driven part of him that had most of his hookups ending in red stained sheets. You deserved the best part of him. The part that he was convinced was still human. The part that could take his time and indulge in the intimacy of knowing another’s naked body. He knew that part of him still existed- he knew because you brought it out of him. With every touch of your hand to his cheek or the feeling of your sweet lips on his, he felt it. Hell, even when you had your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling at it while you attacked his neck with kisses, he could feel a deep appreciation for the way you loved him. It was an innocent kind of love. It was pure and gentle and all-consuming and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by pushing things too far. He wouldn’t ruin this- ruin you. 

But then you were straddling him on his bed. Your legs spread on either side of his hips as he grabbed onto you, guiding your movements as you slid your fully clothed center over his, your lips meshing in a messy kiss.

The house was empty other than the two of you who were now involved in a very heated make out session in his bedroom. His hands were splayed across your thighs, holding them hungrily and his mouth chasing yours. Neither of you were showing any intentions of holding back, so you took it upon yourself to take things a bit further. 

You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans–undiscovered territory that you were determined to explore at the feeling of his obvious arousal beneath you. Just as you were fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, Mitchell broke your kiss and took a hold of your wrist in an abrupt attempt to stop you. 

You looked down at him, trying your best to hide the defeat you felt from yet another rejection. His eyes looked almost remorseful before he averted his gaze downward to where your hands met, he was tracing little circles on your wrist. 

You were out of breath, chest heaving, and thoughts jumbled. You were trying not to read into it, but this whole situation was so confusing to you. Was there something you didn’t know? He seemed to be enjoying himself just moments ago; so why was he stopping? Did he ever intend to have sex with you? 

“Mitchell, are you attracted to me?” The words flew out of your mouth as you leaned back, still sitting on his lap. 

“What?” 

His expression was a mixture of confusion and amusement which only frustrated you further because what on earth did he have to be confused about? 

“Seriously. I get it if you want to take it slow, but It’s been weeks and I’m starting to get scared that you don’t actually want to have sex with me.” 

He was watching as you spoke, a small smile curling on his lips. He couldn’t help it; you were so cute and flustered sitting on top of him talking about how badly you wanted to have sex. How could he not be attracted to you? How could you think something so utterly insane? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You were questioning him and teasingly shoving at his chest so that his back sunk further into the mattress beneath him. The only response coming from the man laying under you was a low chuckle. 

“Mitchell, talk to me.” Your voice softened.

You were serious now; Mitchell could hear it in your worried tone and see it in the unsure gaze holding his own. 

He sat up with an audible sigh and you took that as a sign things were taking a more serious turn. 

You carefully moved off his lap, opting for a seat next to him and plopping down on the bed. You sat facing him with your legs folded underneath you and your hand gently resting on his thigh. 

Everything about you was inviting his awaiting admission; your body language, the gentle smile encouraging him to go on, the way your eyes fell on him in an already understanding gaze. You were too good for him– too kind. Here you were willing to accept every last part of him and he was getting ready to tell you he uses sex to aid his homicidal affinities. 

“I did want to take things slow- I do.” He started with his eyes glued on you.

”I just, I don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke slowly, still searching your eyes for any changes to your expression.

“And you’ll hurt me if we have sex?” You were trying to clarify and make sense of what Mitchell was saying.

“I used to-“ He began but stopped himself. 

He looked down at your hand on his leg. Your touch so sincere. 

“I used to use sex as a method of getting women alone and vulnerable so I could- you know...”

He was still staring down refusing to look at you as he spoke. He couldn’t stand to watch the inevitable look of fear on your face. 

“It was just so easy. The first time I had sex after I turned, it was such a rush. Everything was intensified; her heart rate, the blood rushing through her veins, how much control I had. I didn’t even realize what I was doing and then she was just...” 

His words were trailing off yet again, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. That he was a manipulative evil monster who prayed on women and got off on killing them.

 It wasn’t true though. That side of him was something else entirely. It was someone he didn’t even recognize when he was with you. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt your delicate hands cupping his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. Instead of a look of terror, your face held nothing but forgiveness and warmth. 

“So you’re scared you’re going to kill me if we sleep together?” Your words were point blank as you stared into his eyes. 

“No.” His response was instant, but then quickly followed by a correction, 

“Well maybe. I don’t know, it’s complicated.” 

He paused.

“I never want to hurt you. I know that much.” 

The look in his eyes was so gentle, begging for the forgiveness you’d already given.

“There’s just this part of me that I can’t control, and I’m so scared that I’ll get too caught up and won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Have you ever had sex without-“ 

You began to ask but Mitchell finished your question for you.

“Killing someone?”

He looked away again, unable to come to terms with his own sinful memories.  

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time.” He confessed.

You leaned back on the bed creating a bit more space between your bodies. You had a million thoughts running through your mind but the only one that mattered was the realization of how much Mitchell had come to mean to you in such a short time. Everything felt right with him. You were immersed so deeply in his world that this new piece of information just felt like a little blip on the radar of your lives. You would figure it out together. All of it. 

“Well okay then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing until you feel ready.”

As soon as the words left your mouth his eyes were back on yours. He was giving you the most hopeful smile, it nearly melted you. God- you’d do anything for him. 

“And if you never do, then I’ll just invest in a really good vibrator.”

You were joking to help lighten the mood. You didn’t want Mitchell to feel like you were judging him or disappointed in the new information regarding your sex life. 

Your comment had Mitchell cracking a smile for the first time in last five minutes and the sight of it warmed your heart. You were both just sat there looking at each other with silly little grins plastered on your faces, the dark tension in the room slowly dissipating. 

The silence between you lasted for a few seconds, Mitchell looked as if he was contemplating something before he finally spoke.

“Is that how you’ve been surviving this whole time?” There was a hint of laughter dancing in his words.

“My sweet girl gettin’ so frustrated she has to run home to relieve herself?”

His head was now cocked to the side as he probed you with a follow up question. He was smirking, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. If he couldn’t see the goosebumps on your skin, he sure as hell could hear your heart racing. 

“I’m sorry baby, you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that.” 

Mitchell’s voice was low, and he was moving his body closer to yours. He was hovering over you as your back rested against the warmth of his comforter. The sound of your heartbeat was amplified in his ears by the sudden closeness. 

This was new, you thought. 

Mitchell had never been this bold with his words. It was so filthy– so tempting.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

His eyes were heavy and his jaw tense as he awaited your response.

You thought about him every single time you touched yourself, which was more often than you’d like to admit given the current circumstances of your relationship. You had come up with one hundred different scenarios that involved you and Mitchell naked in his bed to aid you in your self-induced pleasure. 

But instead of divulging all of that to him, you just nodded your head in a simple reply to his question. 

“Show me.” His voice was dripping with desire, and you thought his eyes might burn a hole through you with how hard he was staring. 

“Mitchell…” 

You suddenly felt so shy. Just minutes ago, you were grinding down on his lap hungry to unbutton his jeans. Now he was asking to watch you touch yourself and your confidence was wavering. 

“C’mon baby. I wanna see how you get off.” His tone was so sultry, you were nearly slipping your pants off at sound of it.  

“Let me see baby.” He was intertwining his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for another messy kiss. 

“Fuck- I think about it all the time. What it would be like to watch you cum.” His hands were now trailing down your body, his touch was more rough than usual, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

“I touch myself thinkin’ about you too baby.” His gaze was scorching, as he watched you fumbling with your jeans in such hasty desperation to get them off. 

“Always so worked up from not being able to touch you the way I want to. It drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Now he was assisting you; pulling your jeans down your thighs, just as needy to see your body freed from them. 

Mitchell’s hands instantly found the exposed skin of your thighs as soon as your jeans came off. He was basking in the feeling of your warm skin, memorizing the way you felt in his hands as he gripped and kneaded the flesh of your upper leg all the way up to your hips. 

You were pulling him back down in a frenzied kiss when you felt his hands at your sides teasing the material of your underwear. His fingers were hooked in the waistband of your panties, and you found the kiss getting sloppier the closer you got to being half naked on Mitchell’s bed. Your lips were moving in a chaotic harmony when he pulled back to speak again. 

“Is this okay?” 

It was as if he was breaking character for just a second. The dirty words of primal desire were replaced with a tender whisper. The man who was just ripping your jeans from your body was now searching your face for approval before going any further. 

“Mhmm.” You were humming and nodding your head simultaneously placing your hands over his on your hips and helping him peel your underwear from your body. 

“Jesus- fuck.”

Mitchell couldn’t help the profanities that fell from his mouth as you looked up at him with such an innocently sensual gaze while you guided his hands down your legs. You looked so desperate for him.  

You were kicking your panties from your legs and instinctively closing your thighs, partially for the friction but mostly due to the nerves of your sudden vulnerability.

 Mitchell could sense your brief hesitation and wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable. To tell you how fucking hot this was- because it was. He hadn’t had sex in so long he thought he might just cum in his pants from the sight of you like this. 

He kissed you once more, deep and passionate while his hands found their place back on your thighs. He was running his fingers over your skin and grabbing each of your legs slowly pulling them apart as he situated himself between them. Then he broke the kiss and sat back on his knees to get a better view at your body all sprawled out on his sheets. 

“Fuck you’re so perfect.” His voice was close to a groan as he gazed down at your exposed center. He was in a hypnotic state at seeing you spread open all for him, so wet and ready; he was losing his mind.

“I wanna see you baby.” 

His fingertips were tracing your inner thighs, and you almost had to shut your legs again at the sensation; his touch causing you to let out a shaky breath. 

“wanna see how you play with yourself when you think about me.” 

You were closing your eyes and letting your hand trail down your stomach until it reached your core. If it weren’t for the fact that you were so pent up with sexual frustration from all the nights you had to leave Mitchell’s house after make-out sessions that led nowhere, you might have been more embarrassed by how quick you were to oblige with his directions. You were eager to finally get some sort of relief from him, even if it came in the form of his eyes on your body and his foul whispers in your ear. 

Your fingers were circling your clit and the sounds that came from the man above you were utterly carnal. 

“fuckkk.”

In a long, drawn-out groan Mitchell was releasing pent up frustrations of his own while watching your hand between your legs. 

He had envisioned you like this a million times but not one of those images even came close to what he was witnessing right now. He’d intended on trying to keep his composure but as soon as your fingers met your cunt, he couldn’t contain himself. 

“That’s it baby.”

Mitchell swooned, his body practically shaking as he watched you. All he wanted to do was replace your hand with is. He wanted to feel you. Needed to show you that the little scenarios of him you had conjured up in your head weren’t even comparable to the real thing. 

“So pretty for me.”

His words were only pushing you further into the lust filled abyss that threatened to swallow you whole. Your fingers were working faster in tight little circles and moans were forming in your throat and fighting to fall from your lips. 

“Look at me baby.”

You followed his command, looking up at him. He was going back and forth between looking into your eyes and watching the hand between your legs. He felt the familiar simmer of heat in his chest and the buzzing in his head– sensations that often came with his inability to stop himself from indulging in his deepest desires. He was teetering on the edge of losing all control when he found your eyes again, your tender stare bringing him back to reality. 

“Do you wish it was me touchin’ you like that.” He kept talking, hoping it would help tether him to his humanity. 

The low growl of his voice had you feeling brave enough to bring your hand lower, dipping a finger into yourself and whimpering out in pleasure at the thought of it being his touch instead. 

“Bet I could make you feel so good with my fingers- fuck.” 

The second he saw your hand venture lower he could feel his cock swelling in his pants. There was absolutely no way he would be able to keep his hands to himself now. Not while he watched you slipping your delicate little fingers into your cunt- something he had quite literally dreamed of doing for months now. 

“Oh sweet girl I need to touch you.”

You watched as he palmed himself through his jeans, the look on his face was so needy it made you bite down on your lip to muffle the obscene sound that fought its way to your mouth. 

“need to fuckin’ feel ya baby.”

And with that his lips were crashing into yours, your chests touching and moans mixing. You felt his hand on your inner thigh and nearly jumped when it skipped to your soaked core, his finger already pushing into you. 

“So wet for me huh?.” He was gathering your arousal and spreading it at your opening as he easily added a second finger along with the first. 

His head dipped down and his lips came in contact with the nape of your neck and you flinched. 

Your earlier conversation was still fresh in your mind, and you couldn’t help the involuntary recoil. Having Mitchell so worked up and putting his mouth on your neck startled you.  

He halted, every single one of his movements pausing as he drew his head back just enough to lock eyes with you. He had every intention of kissing down your neck, just wanting to envelop you in the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin. He wasn’t even thinking about sinking his teeth into the flesh there, but once he felt you shrinking away from his touch, he felt awful. Shit did he scare you.

“Hey.”

He was searching your eyes, his expression full of worry. 

“I won’t hurt you.” A flip had switched, and his voice was now soft and reserved. 

“You’re safe.” He was reassuring you and now you felt bad for overreacting. 

You pulled him back to you in an affectionate kiss. 

“I’ve got you, I promise.” With that he was slowly moving his fingers inside you again. His thrusts were gentle, and he kept his eyes on you. He was being so careful, it was endearing. 

He had never felt so in control. It was a strange feeling, to be physically intimate with someone and not have a single hunger driven thought. While he had plenty of unsavory thoughts about you running through his mind, not even one had to do with his thirst for blood. All of them centered around hearing the cute little sounds you were making and watching you cum all over his fingers. 

He could sense your body relaxing under his touch and he watched your eyes flutter closed as his fingers curled into you. He was taking advantage of your comfort and switching to a faster pace. 

You had to squeeze your eyes shut completely as his fingers worked faster and depper. You were doing your best to keep quiet, scared that maybe someone would come home and be able to hear you, but with the way Mitchell was touching you, you finally let go of your worries. A lengthy moan fell from your lips, and had him groaning in response. 

“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.” 

He was encouraging your noises of satisfaction as he brought his lips back to your neck. Only this time, instead of flinching from the sudden attention, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. You could feel him smirking against your skin. 

He was placing sweet kisses behind your ear while his fingers worked harder sliding in and out of you. His movements were perfectly executed, each thrust of his digits curling into you at the perfect spot and causing whispered profanities to form on your tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it almost shocked you how close he had you to an orgasm already. 

“You feel that baby?” His voice was a mumble against the crook of your neck.

You were whining out a pathetic “yes” as he kept his pace, not holding back. You could feel your release building higher and higher, Mitchell’s fingers getting deeper alongside it. The exposition to your climax felt more intense than you’d ever experienced, and you were reaching for Mitchell’s forearm attempting to steady his movements, but all you were doing was pushing him on further.

“Let it out for me baby.” His voice was shaky, and it sounded as if he was holding back moans of his own.

Hearing him get so aroused by talking you through your pleasure only added to the pressure building in your core. 

“C’mon sweet girl I can feel you. So fuckin’ close.” 

You were writhing below his touch, whimpering and allowing yourself to give into the feeling of Mitchell’s fingers as he deliberately made sure each stroke hit the right spot. The sensation forming in your belly was almost too much to bear. 

Your relief was surging closer to release, like a wave it just kept building and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. And then, with Mitchell pushing into you, whispering little praises into your ear, you were coming undone. The floodgates were opened and your release was crashing over you, intense and all consuming. You were speechless as you felt yourself gushing over Mitchell’s fingers still deep inside you. He was coaxing you through your release, watching as you soaked his hand.

“Mmm look at that baby.” his voice was seeping with lust and he was looking between your bodies in a trance by the mess you were making beneath him. 

“Good girl.” He was growling and slowing the movements as he watched you come down from your high.

You were out of breath and in a state of pure bliss as you stared up at Mitchell. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” With him looking back at you, you could see the look of pride in his expression, a smug smile on his lips.

“God I’m never gonna be able to get enough of you.” He brought his mouth down to you, locking his lips with yours in a hungrily passionate embrace.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess on Mitchell’s sheets or the fact that you didn’t think you could form words at the moment. All you wanted was to keep going, to make Mitchell feel just as good as he had made you feel. 

You were pushing yourself onto your elbows and making every effort to find your way to the obvious erection in his jeans. 

As much as Mitchell wanted to spend the entire night fucking you in every way imaginable, he knew it was too risky. Hell, he had almost lost his control before he even laid a finger on you.

While he felt excited by his newfound ability to venture further into this territory with you, he still wanted to take it step by step. He wanted to make sure he could trust himself– that you could trust him. 

“next time.”

He was grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, sealing his promise with a kiss to your palm.

You were pouting, but also inwardly thankful for his guarantee of future sexual escapades. 

“Don’t wanna bite off more than we can chew, yeah?” 

He was grinning to himself and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before hoping off his bed and searching for a towel. 

my masterlist

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Alone But Not Lonely

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 4339

Summary: Mitchell and his girlfriend finally have a moment alone after weeks of hard days at work, dealings with other vampires, and frustrating exes. Only, she’s still hesitant to take the next step because of her relationships in the past. 

Notes: Oh look, is it another comfort smut? I need to be put on a leash. 

Warnings: 18+. Minors do not interact. You know the drill. 

-

You couldn’t tell which you felt more- tired or pissed off. Collapsing onto the sofa, you buried your face in a pillow, letting the cushion absorb your frustrated groan. Like clockwork, you heard those all-to-familiar sounds coming from your flatmate’s room. 

“Christ, don’t they ever take a break?” you whined, face still smooshed into the pillow and hands clamped over your ears. 

Good for her, but you needed to sleep once in a while. 

You had two options: either put in earplugs and try- and fail- to get some shut-eye or you could go for another late-night drive until two in the morning when they would be finished. 

You had to give her girlfriend one thing, she had an impressive amount of stamina. 

A buzz on the coffee table made you lift your aching head, squinting at the name lit up on the screen. 

A small smile teased your lips. 

So maybe you had a third option.

-

Mitchell sat in the quiet, listening to the slow creaking of an empty house. George and Nina left for work for the night an hour ago. Even Annie was out, spending time at the theater or whatever it was. And while he was one to enjoy time by himself, he couldn’t help but feel, well, alone. 

So when the knock at the door came around, he jumped up with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. 

“Hey,” he greeted, grinning as he kissed you on the cheek. “Sorry for the short notice, but I thought we could have a movie night or something.”

Just seeing him made you feel lighter, more awake. 

“That sounds nice.” You smiled and stepped inside. 

Windsor Terrace had become a kind of second home for you, if not an even more chaotic one. But with a ghost, vampire, and two werewolves living under the same roof, you couldn't really blame them. 

“How was your week?” He asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You simply gave him a ‘look’ in response.

Mitchell winced. “That bad, huh?”

“Katie's in town again.” You fell onto the couch and stretched out. “Which is great. I love Katie. She makes Willow happy, which is great.”

Your boyfriend raised a brow. “But?”

“But she makes her happy. Every. Single. Night.” 

His mouth fell open in an ‘O’ shape. 

“Yeah.” You ran a hand down your tired face. “Which, you know, awesome for her, but not so much for me after being on my feet for eight hours and I can’t even enjoy Miranda without learning what positions my flatmate likes!” 

His lips quirked up as he tried not to laugh. 

“You can tell what position they’re in just from hearing them?”

“With them, you can!” You exclaimed. “It’s like they’re their own nature documentarians. They fucking narrate their own fucking!” 

He couldn't stop his snickering. 

You pouted. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

You tossed a pillow at him, which he caught, still trying not to laugh his arse off. Mitchell sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“Oh, come here then,” he said, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, looking down at you with nervous eyes. “You could stay here, you know.”

You leaned into him. “John Mitchell, are you trying to take advantage of my housing situation?”

He held up his hands. 

“I’m kidding,” you laughed, snuggling closer. “If you don’t mind, I could use a good night’s rest.” 

“I don’t mind at all.” He turned your head to capture your lips with his. “I’m sorry I haven’t offered sooner. Everything has been so-”

“Chaotic?” You finished for him. 

He gave you a small smile. “Yeah.” 

“Same for me.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Obviously, not quite the same.” 

His laughter filled the room. 

“I hope not. If any vampires come around your door…” He trailed off, not wanting to think about the possibility. 

“Vampires other than you, you mean?” You teased, tugging on the collar of his shirt. 

Mitchell grinned. “Obviously.” 

He leaned in for another kiss.

Your hands found his hair, encouraging the movement of his lips. With his arms wrapping around you, you leaned back onto the couch, accidentally lying on the remote. The TV switched on with a loud burst, making both of you jump. 

“Fucking hell,” you gasped, nearly falling off the couch if not for Mitchell’s hold. A breathy- if not a little frustrated- laugh fell from your lips. “I guess we’d better start that movie, huh?”

Mitchell sat up, pulling you with him. There was something in his smile, though. Something he was holding back. 

“What do you want to watch?” 

“Anything but Laurel and Hardy,” you said, a little too quickly. 

Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “You don’t like Laurel and Hardy?” 

“Not for every movie night!” You exclaimed, snickering as you pulled his pouting lips back to yours. “Aw, don’t be like that. We can watch something scary. Like Dracula.”

“Pass,” he huffed. 

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s full of hurtful stereotypes and bad accents,” he said. His hand fell to your leg, rubbing slow circles into your jeans. 

You laughed.

He scowled. “It’s not funny.”

You lowered your voice to mock his words earlier. “It’s kinda funny.” 

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. He waited a breath before he pounced, fingers tickling your sides and feet and every bit of sensitive skin he could find while you shrieked and giggled and tried to push him away. 

“Mitchell!” You squealed, failing to get out from under him. “Okay! Okay! You win!” 

“What was that? I can’t hear you!” 

“Mitchell!” 

He switched tactics, changing his tickles for slow, sweet kisses along your neck. 

You stopped trying to push him off. “This doesn’t seem like watching a movie.”

“You didn’t pick one,” he hummed against your collarbone.

Melting into his touch, your fingers tangled in his hair to urge him on. “Mitchell,” you sighed, the sound very different from your pleading before. 

“Hold on.” He pulled away, turning his head. “Listen to that.”

You did. 

Nothing.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Mitchell turned back to you, grinning. “Exactly.” He kissed your forehead. “We have the whole place to ourselves.” He kissed your nose. “For the entire night.” He kissed your lips. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds-”

A shrill ringing cut you off and made your whole body tense. 

“Goddamnit.” You grabbed your phone off of the table and put it to your ear without checking the number. “Willow I’m a little-”

The voice on the other end shut you up. You froze and Mitchell climbed away from you so you could sit up. 

“Hey, Simon.” 

Mitchell stiffened. “Simon?” He couldn’t keep the bloodthirsty tone from his voice. It was an unfortunate habit when it came to dealing with your ex. 

You held a finger to your lips to quiet him and stood up.

“Yeah, I have a second, I guess.” You had to turn away from your boyfriend’s burning gaze. “You said it’s a problem with the system?” 

Mitchell ran a hand down his face as you stepped into the kitchen to take the call. 

It had been like this for a couple of weeks, even before the two of you finally admitted your feelings and started seeing each other. 

Your ex-boyfriend was now the head of the project you’d left so now he called you up all the time to tell him what the fuck he was supposed to be doing, even though you left and he left you broken-hearted and the whole mess just kept going around and around. It gave Mitchell a headache. 

He knew you weren’t thinking about going back with Simon. Mitchell never doubted your feelings for him. But he also knew what Simon had done to you, to your self-esteem and your ability to trust anyone. Including Mitchell. 

He wondered if that was part of the reason you had never stayed the night before, even though you’d been dating for a while now. It wasn’t a problem, of course. He’d never try to rush you into anything. But he couldn't help but feel like he wasn’t doing enough, he wasn’t helping you to deal with the shit of your past, to help you get past it. It still hurt you and that hurt him more than he could even try to explain. 

“Yeah. Just…” You pulled on the ends of your hair to channel your frustration into something other than throwing your phone. “Just shoot me an email next time, yeah? Great. Be seeing you.”

You hung up and tossed the device onto the table a little harder than you should have. 

“Everything okay?” Mitchell asked. 

“Everything’s fine,” you laughed bitterly. “Simon is just going to keep using me to make himself look good and I’m going to keep letting him because I’m too nice and I’m-”

“Hey,” Mitchell said softly, standing up. He put his hands on your shoulders. “You help him because you are good and he’s a prick.” 

“You’ve got one thing right,” you huffed. 

Mitchell brought your lips to his for a sweeter kiss. Reassurance. 

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the night.” His lips curved up in a small smile. “If he calls again, just give the phone to me. That’ll shut him up.”

“Oh no,” you snickered. “You already scare him enough.” 

“Good.” 

You shook your head with a crooked grin. He ran his thumb over your lips.

“There,” he said, kissing the corner of your smirk. “That’s better.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. 

His brows drew together. “For what?”

“I don’t want to seem like one of those girlfriends who’s always making her ex a problem.”

“Your ex makes himself a problem.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“No, love, I know what you think.” He tapped the side of your head. “You’re thinking that you owe everybody something and you think if you don’t do it, then you’re the bad guy in every situation.”

You swallowed. “And you got all that from a phone call?”

He shook his head. “I got all that from paying attention.”

“Oh, did you now?” You draped yourself over his lap, your arms falling around his neck. “You didn’t even notice when I got my ears pierced.”

“That’s because I’m too busy noticing the important things?” He said, though even he didn’t seem convinced. 

You snorted. “Right, that’s it.”

He pinched your thigh and wrapped an arm around your middle so you couldn’t get away. 

“What was that for?” You squeaked, jumping up as much as you could with him holding you to his body. 

His mouth was at the back of your ear, his breath hot on your cheek. 

“For teasing me.” 

With you pressed against him, he could feel the shiver down your spine. 

The front door swung open and this time you really did fall onto the floor you flung yourself off of him so fast. 

Annie walked in, her mouth falling open. “Oh God, did I just interrupt something?”

“Yes,” Mitchell sighed at the same time your phone rang again. 

It was Simon again. 

You stood up, brushing yourself off. “I better just go down there.”

“Y/N, wait-”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” You hurried past Annie and out the door before he could say anything else. 

Annie looked at him, then at the door, then back at him. “What was that about?”

Mitchell fell back against the couch with a sigh. “Fuckin’ Simon.”

-

He planned everything out. Well, Annie and Willow helped him, but he had the most say in the plans. From the wine on the table to the relaxing record he put on, Annie even said she was quite proud of how romantic he could be. 

“This is perfect!” She cheered. 

Willow stood in her doorway. “And I promise, you won’t see me for the next twelve hours. The place is yours.” She winked. “Just don’t make too much of a mess.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I’m just trying to do something nice. She’s had a rough week.” 

Willow and Annie looked at each other and answered in unison.

“Right.”

The two gave him one last, long glance before heading for the door. 

“Have fun!” Annie called. 

“But not too much fun,” Willow teased. “I like my furniture the way it is.” 

Mitchell narrowed his eyes and shooed her out. 

You were supposed to be home any minute and he wanted the evening to be perfect. He finished setting the table, dumping takeaway containers full of pasta onto plates and tossing the boxes, and pouring the wine before stepping back to admire his work. 

“117 and I’ve still got it,” he muttered to himself, fist-bumping the air in victory. 

When he heard keys in the door, he quickly rushed in front of it to block your view of the surprise. This, unfortunately, nearly got him pepper sprayed in the face. 

“What the hell, Mitchell?” You exclaimed, nearly having a heart attack when you saw someone standing in your flat. 

Mitchell held up his hands. “Sorry! Sorry, Willow let me in.” He laughed, though a little nervously now that you’d almost blinded him. 

Once your heartbeat returned to normal, you gave him a surprised smile. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use something nice after dealing with Simon all week.” 

“How did you know that-”

“You’ve been dead tired, irritable, and avoiding me since the night he called.” He laid a hand on your arm. “I put the pieces together.” He rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “And I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, the only thing I am jealous of is that undeserving dick got to spend more time with you this week than I did.” Mitchell kissed your forehead and stepped aside. 

Your eyes widened, taking in your decorated table, the smell of your favorite pasta, and the warmth of candlelight. 

“What-” You gasped. “What’s all this?” 

“A reminder.” Mitchell hugged you from behind, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You tilted your head. “A reminder of what?” 

“That you are valued.” Mitchell kissed just beneath your jaw. “You are wanted.” He kissed the spot behind your ear he knew drove you wild. “And you are incredibly sexy.”

“Is that so?” You turned around to face him. 

“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed, putting a finger under your chin, lifting your lips to his. “And you deserve to be…” Mitchell’s eyes met yours, widening with want. “Appreciated.” 

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling and buried your face in his chest so he wouldn’t see the tears building in your eyes. 

Mitchell froze, pushing back gently so you couldn’t hide. 

“What is it?” He panicked. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No, no it isn’t that.” You laughed tearfully, pressing your lips to his for a quick, but sweet, kiss. “I just don’t think anyone has ever done something like this for me. I’m not used to feeling,” you mimicked his suggestive tone, “appreciated like this.”

“Which is exactly why you deserve this, Y/N,” Mitchell said, laying his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to see how important you are to me.” 

Walking over to the table, the scent alone made your mouth water. You leaned over the plates and smirked. 

“Is this takeaway from Rossetti's?” 

Mitchell cleared his throat. “Yeah, cooking isn’t exactly my strong suit. But I put it on the nice plates!” 

“I love it,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. “It’s very romantic.”

“Annie and Willow help me set it all up,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Maybe it’s Willow’s way of apologizing for all my sleepless nights,” you snorted.

Mitchell pulled out your chair for you before sitting down himself. “Speaking of which, she is actually staying with a friend tonight, so we are completely alone.” 

Blush rushed to your cheeks under the heat of Mitchell’s gaze. 

“We’ll have to find some way to entertain ourselves then,” you said. 

Mitchell chuckled and took a drink from his wine. 

The two of you ate with pleasant conversations that avoided topics like vampires, death, and, most of all, your bastard ex-boyfriend. 

When your food was gone, you just passed the wine back and forth, letting the rich red drink help chase away any of your lingering doubts. 

You stood to clear your place, but Mitchell held up a hand. 

“Let me.” He took your plate and empty glass and put them in the sink to clean later. 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, moving to the couch. You tried to sexily lounge across the cushions but felt absolutely ridiculous, so you just sat with your hands in your lap. “So, you and Willow plotted this together all to give us the flat for a night?” 

“And Annie,” Mitchell laughed. “Don’t forget her, she’d be crushed.” 

“Of course. She’s the whole reason we’re together.”

Mitchell took the seat beside you. “I don’t know if I’d give her all the credit.” He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder. “She just nagged me every morning until I finally asked you out.”

“Our matchmaker.” 

You both laughed and you leaned into him, laying your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“Mitchell?”

He hummed, having lost himself in thoughts of you. 

“You know that I trust you, right?” 

He pulled back. “I hope so.” 

You shifted in his embrace. “I just don’t want you to think that the reason we haven’t…” You swallowed hard, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter. “It isn’t your fault. It’s me. I just-” Turning your head away, you took a deep breath. “Every relationship I’ve been in, I either got my heart broken or I was used or both. And I’m not saying I think you’re going to do that to me. I know you wouldn't.”

“But it’s hard for you to let someone in,” Mitchell concluded. He gave you a small smile. “I know, love. I can’t say that I haven’t kept you at an arm's length myself for a long time, but I want that to change.” His voice saddened. “I don’t want to hurt people anymore. And I especially don’t want to hurt you.”

You moved closer to him again, leaning forward, your lips almost touching his. “You won’t.” 

Taking his hand in yours, you slowly moved it to the hem of your shirt.

Mitchell’s eyes held the question. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, the word barely a breath from your lips. “Please.”

His hand slipped beneath your blouse, rough fingers tracing along your skin, splaying over the small of your back and pulling you closer. Mitchell’s mouth was on yours, soft and patient at first. 

You raised a hand to his hair, tugging gently to spur him on further. Your tongue ran over his lower lip. 

“Careful,” Mitchell growled. 

Feeling braver thanks to the warmth of the wine and his touch, you smirked. “Or what?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. Mitchell wrapped his arms tightly around you and lifted you off of the couch. 

You gasped and locked your legs around his waist. 

Mitchell carried you toward the bedroom but didn’t even make it halfway before he pinned you against the wall and buried his face in your neck, peppering every inch he could find with bites, careful to leave a mark, but not break the skin. His hips pressed against yours, letting you feel him through the barrier of both of your clothes. 

You needed him closer.

“Mitchell,” you whined, tugging on the collar of his shirt. 

He chuckled against your collarbone, pushing you against the wall even more. His jeans grew tighter, already feeling your wetness seeping into the layers of fabric between the two of you. Mitchell held you with one arm and slipped one hand up the back of your shirt, unclasping your bra with a quick twist. 

You quickly pulled off both your blouse and your bra, leaving more surface for him to continue his marking. 

Lifting you up a little higher, his mouth trailed down between your breasts. The hand not gripping your ass to keep you up reached up, rough fingertips running back and forth over your nipple. 

Your head fell back against the wall, almost knocking a photo off its nail. 

He rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb, but didn’t want to leave your other ignored. Mitchell took your hardened peak into his mouth, swiping his tongue around in circles. 

“Stop toying with me,” you pleaded breathlessly, his touch taking over any rational thought. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he snarked, nipping your sensitive peak. 

“Mitchell,” you whined again, pulling his hair a little harder. 

He finally broke away from the wall and carried you to your room. All the while, your lips desperately search for his, quiet moans escaping when his kisses could not contain them. 

You were so distracted by his touch that you didn’t even notice he’d brought you to the bed until your back hit the sheets.

Mitchell hovered over you, the want in his eyes accompanied by genuine concern. 

“Do you want this?” He asked. He knew about your past, how they made you feel… like you were nothing. It sickened him. How anyone could see you as anything less than the incredible woman you were angered him beyond belief. 

Lying beneath him, you tucked a dark curl behind his ear. “Every time I’ve ever been with someone, I felt like I was playing a part. I was trying to be who they wanted me to be.” You leaned up to kiss him. “You’re the first person to make me feel like… me.” Your voice cracked. “Like I matter.” 

Mitchell’s grip softened, his hand moving to tangle in your hair as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“If I could tell you I love you all the days that I have lived and have yet to live, it still wouldn’t be enough to show how much you matter to me,” he whispered. He could still see the disbelief in your eyes, so he convinced you with a slow, passionate kiss, unlike anything you’d shared before. “I love you,” he said again. 

“I love you, Mitchell,” you breathed before pulling him back to you. 

Everything started very soft again, from his hands taking off the rest of his clothes to your fingers lightly running through his hair. But the more you moved together, the more your driving need took over your motions. 

You quickly undid Mitchell’s belt, sliding your hand beneath his boxers. You needed to feel him. 

Mitchell gasped against your breast. “Y/N…” 

“Mitchell,” you said lowly. “I need you.” 

“I know, love.” Mitchell’s fingers traced the outline of your core. “I know.”

He slid two fingers inside you, his other hand holding your hips down when they bucked up in response. 

“Fuck.”

Mitchell gave you a devilish smirk and spread them, stretching you out wonderfully. He curled his fingers and watched you writhe on the bed, panting breaths filling the room. 

“M-Mitchell.” You grinned down at him. “I told you to stop toying with me.” 

You moved your hand along his shaft, circling the tip with your thumb to emphasize your point. 

Mitchell sucked in a breath. “Well, then you have to tell me what you want.”

“Christ, John Mitchell,” you laughed. “I want you to fuck me. There? Is that what you-” You were cut off by your own moan as he pushed himself inside you. 

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said before his lips took over yours again. 

His thrusts began slowly, letting you adjust to every inch of him. He moved in and out of you in a way that tossed away any other thought. You could only think about how he filled you so perfectly. How you’d never felt like this with anyone else. 

After a while of this agonizing pace, Mitchell couldn’t take it anymore and he knew you couldn’t either. He snapped his hips against yours, moving deeper within you than before. 

Your nails raked down his back as you bit your lip to keep from screaming. 

“Let me hear you, Y/N,” Mitchell urged, thrusting into you again. 

“John!” You cried out, feeling yourself tighten around him, the burning inside you growing more and more every time he hit that perfect spot. 

Mitchell needed to hear you like that again. He needed to hear you like that always. He abandoned his cautious pace and railed into you, the sounds of skin on skin mixing with both of your panting moans. 

You clung to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as his cock moved inside you. Your fingers tangled in his perfect black curls. 

“I love you,” you said again, barely able to form any words with how he was fucking you. 

“I love you, Y/N. I love you.” Mitchell sped up, everything consumed by you and how you felt around him. 

With another deep thrust, the waves of pleasure you chased washed over you. Mitchell’s climax soon followed, filling you with warmth. 

Mitchell kissed along your jaw before finding your lips. He held you, still sheathed inside you, and pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“How do you feel?”

You simply sighed contently in response. 

Mitchell collapsed beside you but was quick to pull you back into his embrace. He ran his fingers up and down your spine, listening to you breathe. 

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly.

“You deserved it.” 

“I should tell Simon to annoy me more often if this is what I get,” you teased. 

Mitchell shook his head, laughing. “I could still just get rid of him for you.”

“Mitchell!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips. Mitchell pulled away smirking. “Mostly kidding.” 

You smacked his chest playfully and cuddled up close to him. 

Mitchell whispered more ‘I love yous’ and other sweet words until you fell asleep in his arms. 

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

__________________________________________

When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed!! Let me know what you all thought! Any and all feedback is welcome!! Part two coming soon!! ❤

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!!

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[stillinracooncity]

I'm still waiting for new updates because my body doesn't accept only one shots, it needs a complete story full of drama from beginning to end…

[call-sign-shark]

Navigation for Lost Souls

Drowning in the abyss?

The name is Shark, I'm 28 and I'm a content creator. In this blog, you'll find everything I write/create for my fandoms. I am mainly writing for the Peaky Blinders fandom atm but you will also find a handful of works I crafted for Top Gun: Maverick and upcoming ones for both the Grisha verse and OPLA.

I don't bite or at least not too hard, so feel free to jump in my DM and Asks, I'll be more than happy to chat with you.

Requests are semi-open and most works are 🔞.

Peaky Blinders

Direct link to Masterlist: Heaven in Your Eyes 🪽

Direct link to Masterlist: Tangled Desires 🫧

Direct link to Masterlist: Tender Cuts ( Luca Changretta x OC)

Top Gun & TG: Maverick

Shadow & Bone (Saga Grisha)

Heaven Lavey- Original Character

Heaven's second masterlist

Hunger Games (AU)

Amos' Masterlist- Original Character

Game of Thrones - AU for Heaven and Amos

[frksh0w-dar1ing]

PLEASE IM LOOKING FOR FICS I NEED THEM!!!!

more people should be ungodly obsessed with john mitchell from being human. he's a beautiful emo irish vampire with the worst fashion sense in the world. he's killed so many people but he feels so so so bad about it. he is so absolutely cringefail he gets roasted by children on the street and actually gets annoyed. he fought in WWI. he was in casablanca but you can't see him because he doesn't show up on film. he is in recovery for addiction (blood) and keeps relapsing (murder). he loves the real hustle and he's LITERALLY doing the washing up.

[hobartsaglet]

The playlist is here! There’s not really a theme, mostly good vibes i think match him and a little bit of Mitchell x Reader. Enjoy!! I’d love to hear your thoughts :3 I’m probably going to make an angst playlist for him too, so this one is the happy one!

I also edited the cover myself :3

[thegoldfishkid13]

Character list/ Master list Requests are Open!!

Smut* Fluff<3 Angst ^

Twilight

Jasper hale

Transformed- x human reader <3^

Gone x human reader<3^

Granted x human reader<3^

Carlisle Cullen

Alice Cullen

Staying the night with you x human reader <3

Rosalie Hale

Red Eyes *

Top gun

Rooster/Bradley Bradshaw

Hangman/Jake Serein

Phoenix/Natasha Trace

Maverick/Pete Mitchell

Iceman/ Tom Kazansky

Maverick and Iceman

Revenge 2 3 4 ^

The outsiders

Pony boy Curtis

Bathroom Hideout <3

Sodapop Curtis

Wrong person <3

Snow Date <3

Girls Gone Wild- Modern AU

Dallas Winston

The show <3

Harry Potter

Remus lupin

The stars

Regulus Black

Home again

Rules with requests:

Please have details of what you want when requesting

Smut can be requested but I have never written it

[stellamarielu]

john mitchell headcannons

what i think it would be like to date everyone’s favorite golden retriever vampire

nsfw under the cut

despite being a blood thirsty vampire, mitchell would be the most thoughtful and caring partner.

he is literally the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend

following you around with those big puppy dog eyes and a goofy smile on his face ready to do anything and everything you ask of him

it’s cute really, how much of a lover boy he is

his love language is quality time for sure

homeboy loves spending time with you; cuddling on the couch while watching classic films, walking along the country side while you chitchat about your day, cooking dinner together after both of you get off work– and then taking an impromptu break from cooking just to dance around the kitchen to your favorite music

really he just wants to soak in all the simplicities of the whole “boyfriend and girlfriend” thing with you. he finds all of the mundane things about human love to be so endearing

he would always be so attentive to your wants and needs, doing everything under the sun just to see you smile

and he would be even more attentive in the bedroom

mitchell is the biggest simp known to man, i’m talking a straight up desperate freak

he could never get you alone fast enough, sweeping you up to his bedroom or pushing you into the doorway of your apartment– always so needy to have his hands on your body

that man would kiss every square inch of you until he memorized the taste of your skin, literally worshipping every part of you as his lips explore your body

he’d call you baby and my love in bed

“does that feel good baby?” in a low sultry whisper while he would take his time between your legs or “that’s it my love, let go for me” when he had you moaning and writhing beneath him.

he would be a passionate lover which meant slow, tender sex but it also meant he would get super riled up if he was angry which in turn led to him taking it out on you, but you never protested

mitchell has some anger issues (i mean he is a hundred year old vampire after all, he’s bound to be a little crotchety) so it would be no surprise that he’d often be all hot headed and ready to burst with frustration some nights

that’s when you’d let him pin your hands behind your back and pound into you so feverishly that you thought your headboard might make a hole in the wall

“oh my love, so sweet for me, letting me use you however i want.” he’d be so worked up that his words would come out in a sadistic chuckle as he continued to have his way with you

it was almost as if he’d lose control in those moments, fully giving over to the side of him that indulged in being bad and let’s be honest that’s a little hot

but no matter how sweet, or rough, or insanely intense the sex between you was, it always ended with your body fit snuggly next to mitchell’s as he played with your hair or ran his fingertips gently over your shoulders

like i said, lover boy

the two of you would always mindlessly chat until you eventually dozed off all snuggled up underneath the sheets– you always being the big spoon

my masterlist

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Letters Part Three

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 3196

Summary: Mitchell and the reader try to create some normalcy living in the same house for the first time in eighty years. 

Notes: I’m not going to lie, this series is also a place where I get to hate Lucy as much as I want because I despise that woman. 

Part One; Part Two

-

Y/N: Do you know where the towels are?

J.M.: Who is this?

Y/N: Right, sorry, it’s me.

Y./N: I mean it’s Y/N. Annie gave me your number.

J.M.: I didn’t give you my number? I thought I did.

Y/N: No, you must have forgotten before you left. 

J.M.: Right. Sorry. Good that you have it now. 

…

…

Y/N: So towels?

-

Mitchell shot you a text explaining that they were in the cupboard in the bathroom, though he didn’t know why Annie couldn’t have just told you that. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and returned to cleaning out his cleaning bucket, which always felt counterproductive to him, but whatever. 

He could still see you standing in that doorway, so different yet so much the same. Even speaking with that new doctor, Lucy, all he could think about was the fact that you were waiting at the house, worrying about Lizzy Kain and God knows what else and he was in the hospital mopping up shite. 

He still didn’t understand it all. Lizzy being a vengeful, psychotic bitch, he could understand. In his brief acquaintance with Herrick’s reluctant Irish aly, he recognized both her and her disgusting husband’s brutality, even for vampires. How you got mixed up with them…

Mitchell gritted his teeth. 

He knew how, of course. 

Because he let you get away. 

“Right, so George tells me we have a new house guest?” Nina appeared in front of him, hands on her hips, and eyes holding her usual contempt for him. “Were you planning on asking the rest of us?”

“Where did you even come from?” He peered over her shoulder at the long hallway. 

“Don’t avoid my question, Mitchell.”

“It wasn’t my idea, okay?” He snapped. Mitchell ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It was Annie’s.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Sometimes she forgets the complicated nature of having relationships when you’ve lived over a century.”

Nina leaned in and lowered her voice. “So it’s true then? She’s your… your wife?”

Mitchell turned away. 

“Wow,” she scoffed. She shook her head, surprise clear on her features. 

“What?” Mitchell was getting tired of this conversation. 

“Nothing,” Nina shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have thought you the type.”

“I did have a life, you know.” He crossed his arms. “A very long one, actually.”

“Right.” She exhaled deeply. “I forget that sometimes, I guess.” Her tone softened from interrogation to just regular curiosity. He couldn't tell which was more frustrating. “So are you two, still, you know, together?”

“If by that you mean are we still legally married?”

Nina nodded. 

Mitchell let the tension in his shoulders relax. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He noticed her lingering surprise and elaborated. “Things like divorce get a little trivial when you-”

“Live as long as you do, I get it.” Nina bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to keep walking or say something else. She chose the latter. “Listen, I’m not trying to be that flatmate, I just…” She looked up at him without disdain. “After everything that happened, we have to be careful.” 

Mitchell gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Nina.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She started to back away, raising a brow. “I can’t wait to hear all about you in your younger days from Mrs. Mitchell.” She held up crossed fingers. “I’m hoping for a photograph and a bad haircut.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes but laughed anyway. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said. 

She took a deep breath and pushed through a set of doors into a different hallway. 

After another hour, Mitchell finished work for the day, though a part of him wanted to stay there forever. The hospital was far from a palace, but there he could be something else. He could be invisible. 

You could see him. Better than anyone else, you could see him. 

He walked slower than usual down to his locker. 

“Mitchell!” A woman called after him. Lucy hurried towards him. “Sorry, I know you’re about to head off, but could you do me a favor?” 

He stopped walking and waited, but she just kinda… looked at him. 

“What is it?” He asked, a little more impatient than he intended. 

“Right, sorry.” That look in her eye didn’t go away but he couldn't quite tell what it was. “Could you show me where room 303 is? You would expect it to be next to 302, but no, finding anywhere in this bloody place is impossible.” 

His confusion must have shown on his face because she continued. 

“I just figured they make you clean up all round, so…”

“Um, sure,” he said. “It’s up this way.” 

He couldn't help but feel her watching him as they walked. She looked away every time he glanced at her, but he could still sense her eyes every time he turned his head back. 

“Alright, what?” He said. “Have I got something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Lucy sighed. “It’s nothing, I just-” She shook her head. “God this is stupid. I just feel awful about how I was earlier and I wanted to say sorry.”

Mitchell shrugged. “It’s okay. Really.”

“This transfer hasn’t exactly been what I expected and I took it out on the first bloke I saw.” She fixed a loose strand of hair. “So, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Really, Lucy, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse from some of the white coats around here.”

“Can I make it up to you?” She blurted. She cleared her throat. “Buy you a drink or something?”

“Oh, I…” Mitchell grimaced. “You know, I just had a lot come up in my life and-”

“Okay,” she cut him off. “Forget I said anything.”

She walked away before he could say anything else. 

Mitchell stood in the middle of the hall, looking utterly flabbergasted. “Well, that was weird.” He ran his fingers through his hair and headed back toward the locker room. Shift change had already happened, so the place was empty. One of the lights was out, flickering overhead. It set him on edge. He opened his locker. 

And a rose fell out. 

-

You didn’t know how long you’d stood with the fridge door open, staring at the light while the cold air seeped out around you. 

“You…okay?”

The sudden voice made you jump, slamming the fridge door shut. 

Mitchell stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He held out his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Christ, well you did,” you exclaimed. “If I could, I’d have a heart attack.” 

He snickered. “I said I was sorry.”

You turned to him, trying to look angry, but you just couldn’t. Not when he was smiling at you like that. Even with everything that had happened that day, you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing with him.

“Hand me a beer?” He asked. 

You opened the fridge again and grabbed two, popping the top off of your own. You took a long, slow drink. 

Mitchell took a long, slow drink. 

Then the two of you exchanged a long, slow look. 

It was enough to drive both of you mad. 

“How was your day?” Mitchell wondered, unable to keep the awkwardness from his voice. 

“It was fine,” you said tightly. You could still feel the heat of Daisy’s stare and the chill of Ivan’s indifference. “You?”

Mitchell thought of the rose he’d thrown away on the way here. He thought of the only person who would have sent it. 

He shrugged. “Fine.” 

“Great.” You took another drink. 

So did he. “Great.” 

“I found the towels,” you said. 

“That’s good.” The image of you in the shower popped into your head and just made him all the more awkward. “Does Annie’s room suit you okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’ll be fine while I’m here.” You leaned against the counter. “I really appreciate her letting me stay there.”

“She doesn’t really sleep, so,” he shrugged. 

“Still,” you said, “it’s nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

You both finished your beers. 

Was this how it was going to be? Sitting in silence, walking on eggshells, never knowing what to say? It used to be so natural. You could tell him anything and he you. He was your best friend. Now, were you anything more than strangers?

You finally both spoke, words overlapping each other.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner.”

“Do you want another drink?” 

You blinked, processing his question after yours. 

Mitchell looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, I don’t cook much and Nina and George are working tonight, so I thought…” He stood, picking up the empty bottles and tossing them. “Never mind, it was a stupid idea.”

“No,” you said, following him. “I think that sounds kinda nice.” 

After the day you had with Mr. and Mrs. Crazy, you wouldn’t mind a nice meal. And eighty years left a lot of catching up to do. 

“Really?” Mitchell asked, brows raised in surprise. 

You nodded. “Maybe you can show me around Bristol. I haven’t been in ages.” 

He smiled and your knees felt weak.

“Great.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just going to take a shower and then we can go?”

“Alright,” you said, turning away to keep from melting entirely. 

So that answered that then. Even after all this time, you could never be strangers. Not really.

-

It was a quiet night. The pub had few other patrons, which let you and Mitchell eat in peace. Though, without the bustle, it left room for the awkward silence that plagued the two of you still. 

“Good chips,” you noted. 

He shrugged. “It isn’t the nicest place, but it’s George and I’s favorite.”

“It reminds me of the place my father used to take me to,” you said. “Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? I’d see you in there when you were just a girl, waiting to help walk him home.” He shook his head. “Drunk prick.” 

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but for some reason, the frustration in his tone comforted you. 

He still cared. 

“Not all of my nights at that pub were bad,” you said softly, looking at him over the top of your beer. “We first danced there.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Dancing is a generous word for you stomping all over my feet.”

“Maybe I was just giving you a reason to give me more lessons.” You smirked back. 

You looked at each other for a long while, his soft hazel eyes staring into yours and making time stop. For that moment, it felt like you were back in that pub and he was asking you to dance. 

Mitchell looked away first and cleared his throat. “So how long were you with the Kains?” 

You set your stein aside. “I met Lizzy around the turn of the century and she took a liking to me. When she asked me to stay with them, well-” You took a deep breath. “She isn’t exactly the type you say no to.” 

“I remember her being,” he tried to think of the right word, “intense.” 

You snorted, bitterness lacing your tone. “She’s a right crazy bitch.” Taking a long swig of your beer, you shrugged. “But having her for a friend for the better part of ten years had its perked. I mean, no one messed with us. It was like we were untouchable.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Another uncomfortable tension filled the air. 

Mitchell couldn’t help the frustration burning in his chest. All those years ago, you left him behind. You left him with the power you both feared more than any other. And you left only to stumble into another situation that was just the same. 

You felt his demeanor change and anger bubbled up your throat. 

He had the audacity to judge? After everything he’d abandoned you to be a part of? After everything he’d let Herrick get away with?

You shook your head. 

In his defense, he didn’t know everything.

“Maybe we should be getting back,” you said, keeping your eyes trained at the table. 

Mitchell leaned back in the booth. “I’ll get the check when she gets back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s not a problem.”

Christ, it was worse than a bad first date. 

Daisy’s mocking words from earlier rang through your head. 

“You’ve been apart longer than you’ve been together.” Her blue eyes sparkled wickedly at you. “I’m surprised he even remembers you.”

Was it possible? Had he blocked out your past together while you’d spent every day for nearly a century thinking of his smile? 

“Oh, um-” Mitchell scratched the back of his neck, his awkwardness turning less irritated. “There’s a sweets place on the way back. They’ve got those old-style chocolates you like if you want to stop by.”

“Are you buying those too?” 

A small smile returned to his lips. “I’m a hospital porter, Y/N, and I don’t mop up money.”

“We could always swipe it like we did that bottle from McQuinn’s place,” you snickered. 

“He almost shot us.”

You waved your hand. “He was half blind. The man couldn’t hit the side of a barn.” 

Mitchell stood and held out his arm. “Let’s just go, alright?” 

“Alright, John.” You took his arm and let him lead you out. 

Things may have changed, but he hadn’t forgotten. 

-

Y/N

I would like to see you again. I know it might be complicated because of your father. We can meet by the river at the spot where you hid the whiskey. Meet me there tomorrow night when your family falls asleep. If you don’t want to, I won’t bother you anymore. But I’d really like to hear more about your story. 

Yours,

John

-

Back at the house, Annie greeted you with a cup of tea and a big question.

“Were you two on a date?” 

You nearly choked on the tea. “What? No!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitchell sputtered. “We went out to the pub, that’s all.”

Annie simply raised a brow and took your hand, leading you into the living room. “Well, I think he has hogged you long enough.” 

Mitchell scoffed arms out at his sides. “We were gone for two hours.” 

“But Y/N was gone all day,” Annie said, confused.

Mitchell turned to you with brows furrowed. 

“Annie, why don’t you show me some of your favorite channels?” You hurriedly picked up the remote and let the sound of the TV take over the growing tension. 

Mitchell narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it, heading upstairs to take a shower and wash the memories out of his head. Being sentimental now wouldn’t help anyone. Even if your laugh reminded him so much of how it felt to be young. To be human. 

“So.” Annie’s curious, bright eyes found yours. “Where’d you disappear this afternoon if it wasn’t with your husband?” 

Daisy’s piercing eyes and Ivan’s smirk popped into your head.

“I just wandered around,” you shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Bristol. A lot has changed.” 

“I know!” She exclaimed. “Just last week they finished building this awful shopping mall and I don’t think I’ve ever seen an uglier building.”

You laughed, reminding yourself that even though the two of you weren’t exactly amongst the living, she was still so new.

“Sounds awful,” you agreed, though not without a teasing tone.

Annie nudged you with her shoulder. “Just wait til you see it.” Her mouth fell open and her face lit up. “Oh my god, we should have a girls' trip and get you some new clothes!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “It’ll be so fun. And you didn’t come here with much in the way of outfits.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” You looked down at your ratty jeans and jumper. 

“It’s… fine,” she said. “A little too ‘on the run from my crazy vampire coven’ don’t you think?” 

You gasped in mock offense.

“This is my favorite shirt.”

“Maybe we can get you a new one?” She snickered.

“You’re terrible,” you exclaimed, letting the laughter take over. 

She was right, of course.

It was a fucking hideous jumper.

-

Summer 1909 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

He threw the bottle.

You raised an arm to keep the glass from hitting your face as it shattered against the wall. You ran.

“Get back here ya ungrateful-”

The slamming door cut off your father’s shouts. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Thunder rumbled over your head but you didn’t care. The sound cleared away the stinging words in your mind, washing everything away like the rain that was sure to follow. You hoped it was a tempest. You hoped lightning struck that house and burned everything to the ground. You hoped it took you up in the wind and carried you far from here. 

You don’t know where you’re going by the time you get there, finding yourself at a crossroads down the lane from your cottage. A wheel with a broken wheel sat abandoned on the side of the road, providing a good specimen to focus your unfiltered anger on. 

Wood splintered and metal creaked with every kick you landed against the vehicle. Screams of frustration mixed with the sound of the destruction. You tore off pieces of the seat with your hands and threw them into the field. 

You attacked the object until you were out of breath and sweat stuck your hair to the back of your neck. 

“That’s an interesting tactic to fix a wheel.” A voice said behind you, making you jump. A boy your age stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you with an amused smirk. “I could help you if you like.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, tucking your shaking hands under your arms. 

“Is that why you’re attacking a poor, defenseless wagon?” He stepped towards you. “Because I think there might be an underlying issue here.”

“I know you.” You glared. “You’re that Mitchell boy who used to chase me around with frogs. John.”

He laughed. “In my defense, we were six.”

“I hold grudges.”

“Is that what happened with the wagon?” 

You let out a growling yell and threw another piece of broken wood at him, which he aptly dodged. 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” John held up his hands in surrender. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow, ready to make another comment about the splinters you’d kicked in. 

You looked away. 

John took another step towards you, his tone sweet and gentle “Can I walk you home?”

“No,” you answered a little too quickly. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want to go home.” 

“Can I walk you somewhere else then?” He smiled. 

You scoffed. “If my father saw you alone with me, he’d shoot you.”

John glanced around, holding out his arms. He shrugged. “I don’t see him anywhere.” He held out his arm. “McQuinn’s’ll serve us so long as we don’t tell him how old we are.”

You smiled, feeling a small weight lift off your shoulders. 

He was rather cute, you supposed. 

“Okay, John.”

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Dancing With Death ~ Pt. 2. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome back to Dancing With Death! I present to you the second instalment! Please note, it's my first time writing proper smut, so I'm really sorry if it sucks!! Otherwise, enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, smut (18+)

Part One

_________________________________________

Fate is rarely kind to those who tempt it. There is always a price to pay in the end.

The days drifted onwards, neither you or Mitchell caring to mention the almost-kiss you'd shared. Despite this, it was all you could think about. The way his gaze was so loving, his laugh, his confession in that hushed Irish accent. It gave you blissful goosebumps. But, those lips. So close, yet so far. You'd often imagined the feeling of him kissing you, the closest thing being that accidental brush. Tingles lingered where his lips had touched. It was so light and–

"(Y/n) (L/n), are you paying attention??", your teacher's voice rang out, shocking you from your thoughts.

"Pardon?", you sputtered. Your classmates giggled amongst themselves.

"Keep your attention in the here and now, Miss (L/n)", he reprimanded, before drawing his attention to the screen at the front of the room. It was going to be a very long morning for not just yourself.

Mitchell was working until noon at the hospital, bustling around in a hurry. Almost everywhere there was a spillage of some kind. It was unending for the poor vampire. And it was about to get worse.

A familiar head of blonde hair was weaving its way through the crowds, an exasperated sigh leaving the Irishman. "Ah, Mitchell", the older male greeted his acquaintance.

"Herrick", Mitchell returned, leaning on his mop.

"Don't look so unimpressed. I'll be needing word, if you don't mind?". With reluctance, Mitchell decided he'd entertain Herrick for a few moments, nodding silently. To anyone watching, Mitchell was a cleaner being questioned by a Police Officer. The head of the local department to be exact. Nothing out of the question there.

Their usual place to chat was the hospital canteen, Herrick ordering a coffee rather than the crappy hot chocolate that was made for him the last time. "What do you want? I work for a living", Mitchell ground out, staring the older man down from across their chosen table. Herrick was unintimidated by his counterpart, sipping his coffee without much care.

"I'm rather disappointed that you've forgotten", Herrick sighed. "Seth certainly hasn't".

"Seth is an arsehole", Mitchell shot back with a shrug.

"That's hardly news to the world, Mitchell. I'm talking about a very alarming incident. You know which one I'm referring to". The raven haired male narrowed his eyes for a moment before responding,

"What of it?".

"Your playing human, restricting your food habits is fine with me. But, taking it upon yourself to restrict others of our kind? That's just selfish", the blonde chided. "To make things worse, she now knows our secret".

"It's under control". Herrick's brows rose in intrigue.

"You must really trust this woman to be so sure of yourself", he mused. "Who is she to you, Mitchell? A colleague? A lover??". His eyes lit up with his next suggestion. "Your flatmate??".

"It's not your concern", Mitchell responded, irking Herrick into a laugh.

"Who's sick, sadistic idea was it then??", he asked, leaning across the table with a wolfish grin. "Gods, you must be suffering being so close to a human. Then again, you've always enjoyed being God's punching bag, haven't you?". The Irishman glowered, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. A violent delight flashed in Herrick's piercing blue gaze as it trailed over Mitchell's expression. "You've thought about it, haven't you? Plunging your fangs into her soft flesh, drinking the sweetness of her hot blood". Mitchell shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from Herrick's in shame. "Letting that divine warmth trickle down your chin, finally satisfying the beast inside".

"Get to the point already", Mitchell snapped.

"You know what I want from you and it's all completely voluntary".

"To join your little 'army'? You really think this revolution is going to work, don't you?", he scoffed.

"I know it's going to work. We're high in number now, Mitchell. It's only a matter of time", Herrick insisted. "We want you back. I certainly do".

"And what if I did join you, Herrick?", Mitchell challenged. "Hypothetically. What would become of my life then?".

"Your friends are hardly our focus, Mitchell. We're using our gift to help people", the blonde huffed. "If you join us, I'll leave them be".

"Just like that?", Mitchell retorted. "So unlike you".

"Your friends are of no concern to me. One is a floating spirit, the other can't hope to lay a paw on me unless the moon is full and the last? Well, we all know how fragile humans are". Herrick tugged at his shoulders, taking another sip of his coffee. "If you're that worried for her, I can guarantee that she won't be harmed".

Mitchell's gaze narrowed in silent contemplation, suddenly widening at the sound of your voice. "Mitchell?", you called to him from the doorway of the canteen, a sense of horror filling him. You couldn't be here, not now. Herrick's grin widened, his charm switching on. The blonde smelt your scent from where he sat, recognising it as the same sweet smell he'd detected on Seth.

The Irishman stood, his counterpart following suit. You could tell something wasn't right, but the both of you stayed silent when you strayed into the room to embrace your friend. Herrick eyed you keenly, your eyes then falling onto him expectantly. "Well, Mitchell. Aren't you going to introduce us?", he chuckled.

"(Y/n), meet William Herrick", Mitchell's voice remained unenthusiastic. "Herrick, meet (Y/n)". Eagerly, the blonde officer shook your hand, almost startling you with his cold. Those keen eyes reminded you of– He had to be a vampire.

"A pleasure", he assured you, an unreadable twinkle to his blue eyes. "I'm an old friend of Mitchell's".

"Nice to meet you", you forced a smile in your nervousness. Mitchell's hand remained protectively on the small of your back, suddenly taking his chance to remove you from this situation.

"If you'll excuse us, Herrick. We really must be going", the Irishman began to pull you along steadily yet with some hurry, allowing for Herrick to show himself out whenever he chose.

"Of course, of course", he nodded, smiling knowingly. "You will consider my proposal, won't you?". Mitchell froze, turning over his shoulder to acknowledge Herrick's words with a curt nod before leaving.

"Who was that?", you asked when you both had reached the end of the hallway.

"Someone I would have preferred you never to meet", Mitchell sighed, sparing a worried glance over his shoulder. "But, it's done".

"I see now, I shouldn't have come".

"Nonsense. You got me out of there", he nudged you gently, the both of you lapsing into a short fit of laughter. "Why did you come?".

"I just wanted to walk home with you. Class finished early today", you gnawed on your lower lip nervously. He nodded in understanding,

"I'm off work anyway now". Maybe it was better that you had come to find him? With Herrick around, goodness knows who else could be lurking.

The walk home was comfortable, despite your previous awkwardness with Mitchell. In sensing that your hands were cold, the vampire had offered you the surprisingly warm crevice of his strong arm and his fingerless mittens. The sun was more forgiving today, hiding behind the rain clouds that were slowly moving in from the south. Mitchell had been practising going into public without his sunglasses. It was working for him, the dull brightness no longer affecting his sight. You smiled to yourself. With every passing day, he considered himself more human than the last. Yet, you already considered him more a human being than anyone else you'd met.

You both stepped into the house, expecting an excited Annie to greet you both. But, the house was dim and uncharacteristically quiet. A note was left on the table, saying that she was out shopping with George for tea bags among other important things for the pantry. "I can't imagine the tea canisters ever being empty again", Mitchell chuckled, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. In noticing your quiet, his brows furrowed. "Is something the matter?? Did Herrick frighten you?".

"No", you replied dismissively, waving him off with a smile. "I'm thinking".

"About??". Your eyes closed in a form of dread, bracing for the worst at your answer, "About us, Mitchell". He swallowed nervously. "What are we, you and me?". His hazel hues darted from yours, forcing a smile.

"We're friends?", he feigned confusion.

"Are we??", you challenged, your brows raising. Your eyes traced him. "I haven't stopped thinking about it, you know? That kiss".

"It was an accident", he insisted gently, his voice wavering in unsurity.

"Were your words an accident too, Mitchell??". His lashes fluttered, blinking away in anxiousness. He parted his lips to speak, but there was only silence. You stepped closer to his taller frame, your warmer hand reaching out hesitantly. Testing the waters, your fingertips brushed over his hand. He reciprocated in tangling your fingers within his. "Look, I know what you said could've been spur of the moment, but—".

"It wasn't", his soft voice cut in, his form moving almost flush against yours. His eyes were suddenly drawn to your own. "I meant what I said". He heard the flutters of your heart, every fibre of him being drawn to you. Your spare hand rested upon his silent chest, pulling him gently to you. His head dipped, your lashes tickling his skin. "We shouldn't—", he reasoned as his last form of restraint, his lips finally meeting yours.

And so, your dance with death began...

Fireworks gave off beneath your skin, Mitchell's spare hand reaching to twine his fingers into your hair. His other hand released yours to steady your face, your hands gripping his flannelette shirt to bring him closer. You both stumbled into the wall nearest to you, Mitchell's lips working in concentrated passion with your own. Your lips parted, his kiss becoming devouring. His fingers gripped at your hair, only tugging gently enough for a sigh to pass through your lips.

In retreating from your lips, he traced his own down your throat in delicate touches whilst you caught your breath. The temptation for your blood was undoubtedly there, being completely drowned out by Mitchell's other desires. His lips marked your collarbone, his lashes brushing over your skin when his ministrations grew slower. You sensed his hesitation, knowing that he must be growing worried.

To soothe him, your fingers wound through his dark curls whilst he worked, your lips brushing over his forehead and his cheek before you leant in close. "It's alright, Mitchell. I trust you". Your whisper against the shell of his ear, combined with your nails raking over his scalp awoke something almost feral within him.

More sure of himself, Mitchell's lips moved fervently across the skin of your neck. His tongue darted out to strike at your flesh, his lips caressing a place there that had you gasping. Mitchell's forehead met yours, his strong arms having no trouble in hoisting your legs around his waist, your hands grasping at his hair and shoulders.

His nose brushed yours, your lips moulding together in tender open-mouthed kisses as he guided you both out of the living space and up the stairs. Your waist moved against his, a soft groan heaving from his throat. "Christ, don't move like that, (Y/n). We'll never make it to the bedroom if you do", he warned with a playful grin, offering your lips another quick kiss before his steps lead you both into your room. One of his legs kicked out, the door slamming behind you both.

Mitchell's feet stumbled to the edge of your bed, the both of you smiling against each other's lips when they met again sweetly. His arms suddenly became absent beneath you, a short cry leaving your lips when you crashed onto your mattress. A laugh slipped from you, Mitchell's expression mirroring your own. His fingers gripped his undershirt, lazily pulling it and his flannel shirt over his head at the same time. "You're certainly praticed at this", you jested, his brows wiggling suggestively.

"You haven't seen me with a bra", Mitchell replied with a short giggle, discarding his clothing. You stood from the bed, circling your arms around his broad frame.

Carefully, you'd noted his battle scars from his time at war, his hazel gaze glinting with a tenderness in watching you look over them. His lips parted when your mouth and fingertips graced over those old wounds affectionately. No one had ever cared for or noticed those marks before. "Thank you", he murmured against your forehead, a soft smile still present in his gratitude. His fingers moved to your back, silently asking for permission.

"Please", you responded, his face lighting up. The Irishman pressed a kiss along your jaw, before lifting your shirt over your head. You nodded, beckoning him to continue. His lips ignited goosebumps over your skin when they kissed slowly and sensually along your bare shoulders. With a twisting of his fingers, your bra clasp suddenly fell loose, the garment being completely discarded. Your brows rose. "You weren't kidding".

Another soft giggle slipped from Mitchell's lips, his hazel hues glittering with adoration when they met your own. "You're so, so beautiful", his hushed breath fanned over your skin. His cooler hands grazed over your bare back in loving caresses, moving his hand to cup one of your breasts. He only swiped his thumb over your bud, your form jolting forwards into his instinctively. His head ducked, laying feathersoft kisses on your lips, cascading down your throat again, his hands tracing soft patterns over the sensitive flesh of your stomach to the hem of your pants.

"Please, Mitchell", you begged softly, the Irishman wasting no time in pulling the button of your pants loose, allowing them to form a pile by your feet.

Mitchell guided you gently onto the mattress, his form coming to hover over your own. His large hand flattened over your stomach, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"Do you want me to—", he began, inching his fingers lower in suggestion.

"Yes". His soul warmed, the vampire relishing in how trusting and carefree you were within each other. He delighted in the gasp that tumbled from your lips when his digits slipped into your underwear, quickly becoming coated in your slick. Your nails clawed into the muscles of his arm when he moved them languidly between your folds and across that sensitive bundle of nerves. He bit down on his lip to fight his smile at feeling you writhing beneath him, letting him know wordlessly in your huffs and mutterings that he was hitting all the right places. His teeth nibbled against the shell of your ear pleasurably, hoping to get your folds slick enough in preparation for him. You fought your building high, begging Mitchell to stop. He obeyed, a soft laugh escaping him when your hands worked down the bare skin of his abdomen, to tug on the hem of his pants. The Irishman relented to your shared wants, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. Both his boxers and jeans were removed together, quickly becoming discarded with the other items of your clothing.

Mitchell's soft lips seized your own, your hands coming to cradle his face. He braced himself on your mattress, lining himself up carefully. Once sure, his hips snapped upwards, your mouth falling open against his. His eyes fell closed in a squint, his dark brows furrowing as a shaky moan passed through his throat. Your breaths steadied as you became adjusted to him, his hips slowly beginning to rock into your own experimentally. You hummed eagerly, snatching his lips into your own. "Mitchell", his name tumbled from your lips, your fingers lacing into those thick curls as his pace quickened.

His kisses were searing, but gentle. There was mixtures of your teeth and his, pulling at each other as Mitchell's movements became deeper. The thirst for your blood had him tensing and grimacing, his lower lip being drawn between his teeth in concentration. A metallic taste hit his tongue; his own blood from biting down so hard. You helped to keep him grounded, allowing his hands to run across your open palms before pinning them to the mattress.

The Irishman's brows remained furrowed, focused on giving and sharing in your pleasure. Your breathy whimpers, soft curses and ragged gasping were all music to his ears. He found joy in the fact there was a deeper connection than just lust or a means to feed, as sex had often been for him. It was instead loving, slow and caring towards each other's needs. Mitchell finally felt that he could love and be loved equally in return.

A sharp gasp suddenly slipped from your throat, Mitchell hitting a place that had you seeing stars. Your back arched into him, your waist snapping up to meet his rhythmic movements. Feeling a heat tightening in his lower abdomen, Mitchell didn't allow himself to lose any self control over the side of him that hungered for your blood. His hazel eyes flickered open, ablaze with desire and adoration. Your heated breaths mingled, Mitchell's lips lowering again to your own. Gods, you really were beautiful.

With your heart now racing, you felt every wave of stimulation building up within you. You felt your eyes lolling back, Mitchell's movements allowing him to continuously drag across that spot in you without mercy. "Oh, Mitchell", you sighed, your gaze barely able to focus on his face.

Mitchell smiled. You were so close now, he could feel it. Your breaths had quickened and you were practically squirming with every thrust. His hands pinned yours higher, holding them down with only one. His now spare hand travelled between the small space between your moving bodies, a small cry of pleasure shooting from you when his digits began rubbing circles over your small bud.

Mitchell's tongue traced the skin beneath your ear, fighting the painful urges to feed from you whilst he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to your flesh. His ministrations in time with his thrusts were too much, suddenly hitting a boiling point within you.

Trembling beneath him, your throat suddenly tightened, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching again into him as all the gravity in the room seemed to change. Mitchell's name was a hushed mantra on your lips, the winding tightness snapping within Mitchell's abdomen not long after. His body felt alight with a sudden wave of euphoria as a few strained grunts left his lips. Your name tumbled from his lips amidst a string of other profanities, slowly coming down from his high and allowing you to ride out yours.

When his movements ceased, your bodies remained tangled for a few moments, completely reduced to putty within each other's embrace. Mitchell's eyes had closed, suddenly shooting open in concern. There was no blood, well— he wiped at his mouth, the crimson wetness of his own apparent on his fingers. Fang marks were etched into his skin where he'd bitten down harshly. Shocked at his own restraint, he looked down at your peaceful expression with a growing smile. He'd done it.

Your (e/c) orbs flickered open, a lazy smile meeting your eyes when you cradled his face. Unbothered by the blood, your lips captured his, stroking your fingers over his skin when he returned the kiss. When your lips parted, your fingertips traced over his small wounds in concern. "It's fine", he insisted softly, noting your worry. "Hardly hurt".

Removing himself from you, Mitchell happily took it upon himself to carefully clean you both up with a warm cloth. Neither of you redressed, slipping under your covers to relax in each other's arms.

Pulling Mitchell's dark curls from his face, his head shifted from its place upon your chest to gaze up at you. His wounds on his mouth had miraculously healed after he'd cleaned them, your brows rising in wonder. "Was it hard for you?", you asked with great hesitation. Knowing what you were referring to, the Irishman felt that he should be honest.

"It was", he murmured, conceding that his predatory side was quite painful to control. You took a breath, your lips parting. A silent debate on whether or not to ask.

"If I wasn't human, would that make things easier for you?". Catching on to what you meant, Mitchell's brows furrowed,

"Why would you ever want to give up what you are to become like me??".

"To lessen your pain, to be with you without risk of injury or loss". A kind, yet sad smile dawned on the Irishman's strong features, his hand reaching to sweep the fringe from your face.

"All are human", he whispered, his hand retreating from your face to curl his arm around you affectionately. "You don't want this life, (Y/n). And I won't give it to you".

"Why not??", you asked quietly. Hazel hues danced over your features, his fingers drawing imaginary patterns along the bare skin of your abdomen before grasping your hand. He placed it over his cheek, your thumb caressing over the stubble of his face. His head leant into your touch, his mouth pressing a kiss into your palm.

"I'd miss this warmth. Your skin is so beautifully warm to the touch. All that life; gone in an instant", he sighed, squeezing your hand. Mitchell moved his head to lay it where your heart thrummed beneath your skin. "I'd miss hearing this sound too. It's soothing".

You couldn't help the smile that came to your face, having no prior idea that he'd appreciated these things so much. Whilst you swept your hand over his hair in careful strokes, he continued, "(Y/n), this life took all of that and more from me. I'm just thankful that this life gave me you, but I won't let it take that from me too".

"I'm not going anywhere", you assured him, softly laying a comforting kiss to the top of his hair.

The haunting image of Lauren's hatred filled his mind. Mitchell couldn't handle it if ever you looked at him in that way, the way she had. The thought terrified him to no end, his eyes furiously blinking away the tears forming in his gaze. "This life changes you, (Y/n). I wouldn't wish it on anyone", he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of your chest. "You're perfect as you are. And I love you".

Your embrace tightened around the Irishman, both your eyes and his coming to a restful close. "I love you too, Mitchell".

In the many days and weeks that followed, your relationship with the vampire flourished. George and Annie were overjoyed when the both of you made your status known. Mitchell was now sure of where he belonged in the world and what he'd do to protect those people closest to him.

Foolishly thinking that Herrick had growing morals and that he'd offer his family protection, Mitchell had made the decision to accept the proposal. The blonde's jaw almost hit the floor when Mitchell marched through the doors of his office at B. Edwards.

"They won't be harmed? I have your word??". Smiling broadly, Herrick replied,

"Of course".

"I'm in".

The vampires welcomed Mitchell back into their coven with open arms. It was blissful at first, to be part of his own kind again. The Irishman hated the stories told about his early days as a vampire, having no choice but to give in to his urges to survive back then. It was a time he'd rather forget.

Herrick respected that Mitchell still wished not to feed on humans, hoping that he would come around at some point. The blonde was recruiting more people, saving them from the cusp of death to live in his growing underground society. Mitchell gave him the edge and reputation he needed just by standing in the room. It was perfect.

Until you'd found out from Josie, another former lover of Mitchell's from the 60s, that Mitchell was getting himself into a lot of trouble. She'd met you only a week or two ago, over the moon that Mitchell was pursuing a strong relationship with yourself. Now she worried that it would all end in tatters if he went on any longer with Herrick and his goons.

You'd had no idea, alike to Annie and George, that Mitchell had joined Herrick. Feeling as if your trust had somewhat been betrayed in him not telling you, you had also grown confused. "He hates Herrick— why— what could make him join that man?", you sputtered. Josie's hand clasped your own.

"Mitchell does a lot for those he loves", she sighed wistfully. "He tried to get Herrick to convince me to join them, in their society. To stop my cancer. As honourable as it seemed, he knows as well as I that death is human".

Your mouth fell open slightly, the truth striking you almost painfully. This sounded so different from the Mitchell you knew. Your mind drifted back to his words to you in the afterglow of your first lovemaking. It seemed so long ago now. Josie squeezed your hand. "You need to stop him, (Y/n). Find him. Get him back. I'll tell George". You nodded, returning the gesture before breaking into a sprint down the street.

Every thought you had was honed on Mitchell. You had an inkling to his whereabouts, George having mentioned something about a 'B. Edwards' place to you once. You prayed that you'd get there in time, a sinking feeling beginning to pool in the pits of your stomach.

Your legs burned with fatigue and your lungs gasped for air in the cool winds of the day, your journey leading you through many streets. The funeral home was only a handful of blocks from your house, the sign with 'B. Edwards', like an eery archway over the gates when you'd spotted it. Fury and adrenaline coursed through your system, not caring or thinking when you passed through the glass doors of the establishment.

An elderly woman sat to your left upon entry, her pale eyes fixed on a magazine. The air was unusually cold and musty, every piece of furniture or decor an antique. Your entry sparked the male seated at the desk to rise to his feet. You instantly recognised his face. Seth. Your mind flashed to that night from months ago and it seemed his did as well when a sly grin grew onto his features. "Nice to see you again, Lovely—", he started.

"Where's Mitchell?". Your question had the growing fire in his eyes dimming into a scowl.

"She certainly gets her manners from Mitchell, don't you think?", Herrick laughed upon entering the room, responding to you before his counterpart could. Your eyes darted to the blonde male who offered you a charming smile. "Come now, we're all friends here".

"Just tell me where he is and I'll be on my way", you snapped.

" 'On your way'??", he repeated, wholeheartedly amused. "That just wouldn't be good hospitality, Darling". Your teeth clenched within your mouth, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. "Nanna has made us some lovely biscuits and tea! We'd be so delighted to have you!". The way he'd offered it was so lighthearted, anyone else would've thought him kind. You knew better.

Seth rounded the desk all too quickly, flanking your right to ensure you couldn't escape. The elderly lady, you came to realise, was the vampire Herrick had referred to. She eyed you keenly from where she sat, also making sure you couldn't run. Seth's hand was at the ready, hovering behind you to grip your arm should it be necessary.

With reluctance, you forced a smile, Herrick delighting in your decision to join them without struggle. You marched forwards at your own accord, slowly realising that every set of eyes in this establishment belonged to a vampire. The way they stared was so unlike Mitchell's glance. His was soft, kind. Every gaze here was fixed on you like a vulture. Some part of you wished you'd brought a weapon or a stake with you before rushing into this situation.

Herrick lead you with a kind hand on the small of your back to a room with biscuits and tea laid upon the table. "Have a seat there, Love", he gestured to a comfortable seat, the anxiety and regret rising into your throat. Still, Herrick's voice remained feathersoft, unintimidating. His touch had given you chills, his blue gaze seeming to see through you. Two security guards, also vampires, flanked Herrick. Seth quickly left your side to attend the front desk again once you were seated.

The blonde poured you a cup of tea, adding but a sugar or two before passing it across the dining table. "Pick yourself some biscuits, Love", he grinned. "Don't be shy, now". You didn't trust the tea or the biscuits, afraid they'd been drugged or laced with something malicious. Vampires were immune to poisons and drugs, after all.

"Where's Mitchell?", you repeated your question, more gentle than it had been with Seth. "I want to speak with him".

"Mitchell's just out for the moment. When he's back, I'll give him straight to you". His response was careful and you didn't trust his words in the slightest. "I'm sure he'd appreciate us taking care of you. After all, it's what he wanted?".

"Liar", you muttered, his brows raising.

"How you wound me, (Y/n)", he sighed with some disappointment. "I wasn't lying. How else do you think I managed to convince him to join us?". He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you from the lip of his cup. "Goodness knows why he protects you. You clearly hurt him more than your words could ever hurt me". Your brows creased.

"What are you talking about?". A soft laugh slipped from the blonde,

"What? Hasn't he told you?". Herrick took your silence as his answer, growing further amused with the situation. "He's in pain, Sweetheart. Every day. To be near a human is agonising enough for a few moments. Mitchell has to live with you, 24/7". His blue gaze trailed over your features. "It's a wonder he hasn't given in yet or turned you".

A thickness formed in your throat, the guilt swirling in your eyes. Mitchell had never mentioned such pain to you. Was it really that difficult for him??

"He told me he'd never give me this life", you shot back. "That this life changes you. And as far as I'm concerned, I'll take his advice in not wanting it". Herrick pursed his lips, a slow sigh exhaling from his nostrils. Softly, his head shook in some semblance of dejection.

"Now that is a pity", he sighed. "But to be expected". Your brows furrowed again in confusion. "Mitchell has truly got you wound around that thumb of his to blind you so easily from the gift that is immortality".

"Gift?", you scoffed. "It took everything from him!".

"Is that what he told you?", Herrick huffed in amusement, beginning to drum his fingers on the table. "The same man who would pass immortality out like pamphlets on the street? It's thanks to Mitchell that our recruitment is up, Sweetheart".

You blinked profusely, stiffening up in a sense of disbelief. Yet, there was no dishonesty in Herrick's keen blue gaze as it scanned over you the way Seth's had. It was unsettling.

"You poor girl", he mused, his grin becoming almost wolfish. "How misplaced your loyalty has been. It can have better uses. With any luck".

"What do you mean?". And that's when you noted the rhythm of Herrick's fingers. It almost sounded like a heartbeat, progressively growing quicker. Taunting you.

The guards that flanked the blonde's side slowly shifted, your arms gripping your chair and eyeing them in nervousness. "Listen", Herrick whispered, drumming his fingers louder. "That's your heartbeat, (Y/n). Savour that sound. It just may very well be the last time you hear it".

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I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment with a part three coming soon!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you want to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!! Thank you all for stopping by and supporting my works!! ❤❤

[ang3lsbl0g]

Intro

MDNI & support creators — divider credit @cafekitsune

Other — @enchanthings

Please do not interact with my page if you are under 18, I cannot stop you from reading but please do not interact with me.

Hello, you can call me angel. I will more then likely write about what I am interested in, so yes you can squeeze fan fics out of me.

My Boundaries -

Yes - dming, chatting, interacting with me if you are over 18

No - asking about me personally, trying to get me to write something I have previously said i will not write.

Requests boundaries —

I will never turn my requests off unless I am getting death threats or such.

Do not - pressure me to reply, your request might have been boring and I decided to not do it.

Do - request nicely and give me details on what you want, unless you want me to do whatever on the fan fic

Characters — any Jake gyllenhaal character that isn’t under 18, cod characters (male only), most video games I will be able to write a fic for you, example ; rdr2, last of us.

I WILL NOT DO REAL LIFE PEOPLE.

Master lists !

Jake gyllenhaal master list — here!

Call of duty master list — here!

Please request other characters for different master lists!

[r0semaryt3a]

Masterlist

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I finally have a masterlist lol, this will basically cover what/who I will/won’t write for or about + have my req status

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Requests - open

Alt sites:

Ao3

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Tad bit of an introduction before I get into anything:

Evening, you can call me Vincent! I go by they/she and have been writing for a good while (at least as long as I could pick up a pen). My sister’s been using tumblr for a while and after a rocky patch of my life I decided to pick it up myself. With my passion for writing I’d be more than ecstatic to write all sorts of requests!

(I’m currently trudging through an old wip of mine by the title of “wings of an Angel” so all requests will be scheduled around that alongside my actual life)

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Existing works - awaiting content

(Characters present in brackets are character written for)

Phantom Troupe - CLOSED ATM

(Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shalnark, Machi, Pakunoda + Uvogin, Hisoka, Illumi if specified)

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Going on a date

Sleeping in the same bed

Lgbt headcannons

S/O hugging them for the first time

Soulmate au

Pillow fight - pending

The Guild

(Francis Scott.K Fitzgerald, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mark Twain, Margaret Mitchel, John Steinbeck, H.P Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Louisa May Alcott, Lucy Maud)

╰┈➤ content pending

SK8 adults

(Cherry Blossom/Kaoru Sakurayashiki, Joe/Kojiro Nanjo, Adam/Ainsouke Shindo, Snake/Tadashi Kikuchi, Kiriko Kamata)

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Lgbt headcannons

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Individual character work

Chrollo

╰┈➤ Vampire Chrollo x Reader - pending

Feitan

╰┈➤ Feitan with a picky eater S/O - pending

Phinks

╰┈➤ content pending

Shalnark

╰┈➤ content pending

Machi

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Pakunoda

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Francis Scott.K Fitzgerald

╰┈➤ content pending

Nathaniel Hawthorne

╰┈➤ content pending

Margaret Mitchell

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John Steinbeck

╰┈➤ content pending

H.P Lovecraft

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Mark Twain

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Edgar Allan Poe

╰┈➤ content pending

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Cherry/Kaoru Sakurayashiki

╰┈➤ content pending

Joe/Kojiro Nanjo

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Adam/Ainsouke Shindo

╰┈➤ content pending

Snake/Tadashi Kikuchi

╰┈➤ content pending

Kiriko Kamata

╰┈➤ content pending

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Wills/Won’ts

You can pretty much ask for whatever in terms of requests. Most of my currently posted works are headcannons but I’m all for individual oneshots!

I’ll make it clear here that if there are specific characters you want me to prioritise in asks (as I’m not always guaranteed to add them all) please specify in the request!! (+ I’ll make sure to try my best to add a little extra something to their section <3)

Also note that previous point doesn’t apply to SK8 I will always add them all in

Obviously, the usual spiel of offensive or problematic content (ie: child x adult) are absolute no nos but in terms of personal preference? My real won’ts have to be:

Nsfw content - this is for many reasons, the main one being that it makes me uncomfortable

Infidelity/cheating - this is mainly in place for characters like Francis who already canonically have partners but for any romantic requests: no disloyalty should be afoot. (On the note of Francis anytime I write for him will be under the guise that Zelda is A) dead B) doesn’t exist or C) divorced)

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With all that done and said never be afraid to send over a request <3

[uglyxbrunette]

hiiiiii i’m still working on fics for the dastmalchian characters and the scream franchise the dc universe annnnnnd being human uk !!!! im obsessed with all of them ughhhhh