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jazzthatonewriterchick · 17 hours ago

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Love Always, Your Best 🥀 (Toxic Ex!Eren x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ V-Day One Shot)

“Five years later, and I’m still your best, baby. Let me remind you why.

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Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which the person you loath most in this world and the best lover you’ve ever had, your very toxic ex-boyfriend Eren, suddenly shows up out of the blue one random night at the same restaurant you happen to be at with your new man on Valentine’s Day. He is newly single and on his bullshit. Unfortunately for you, that means he’ll stop at nothing to remind you of how his bedroom skills make up for his lack of relationship skills….hopefully.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Possessive, Obsessive & Toxic!Ex-BF!Eren; Sexual Tension; Alcohol & Marijuana Use; Drunk/High Sex; Dubcon/R*pe; Coercion; Cheating; Dom!Eren x fsub!Reader; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Messy Pussy-Eating; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Eren Got A Big Ol' Dick; Tattoos & Piercings Kink; (a little) Plug!Eren; Dirty Talk; Reader Cums 3x; Daddy Kink; Cum-Drunk!Reader; Eren Dickmatizes You; Dumbification; Cumshot; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: MY FIRST EREN FIC!!! EVERYBODY GET UP & CLAP!!! This is some very nasty, manipulative, lowdown, dirty, toxic sh!t as a warning. Something about Eren being a total dick is kinda hot to me lol. Enjoy!! 😘😘 -Jazz

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‘Oh, no,’ you think. The only thought you’ve had since you laid eyes on him seconds before.

Out of all of the places you would think of running into him, you never thought it would be here on this day of all days.

Your ex. Sitting at the bar. And not just any ex: your very toxic ex whom you broke up with five years ago because of his said ‘toxicity’. He is also the man you used to be head over heels for. Like completely head-in-the-clouds, singing-in-the-mirror in love with this man who happens to be the most obsessive, jealous, and emotionally unavailable man you have ever met.

And unfortunately for you, also the man who gave you the best dick you have ever had in your life.

As soon as you see him sitting at the bar nursing a Gin & Tonic, his veiny hand adorned with rings and ink that he always thought looked so much better wrapped around your neck, it is like being smacked dead in the face. Every one of the features that you adored–his shoulder-length black hair; his angular side profile; the piercings glittering in his ears, pink bottom lip, and right eyebrow–is like being shell-shocked over and over again.

“Oh, my God,” you blurt. You cannot stop yourself from saying it as you sit four tables away from him in the expensive restaurant you both occupy. The decor is adorned with red, pink, and white flowers, fine white tablecloths, and hanging lamps that glow a dim, romantic red for Valentine’s Day. You wore your favorite slim, sexy red dress for the occasion, but right now, you feel anything but sexy.

Your date and long-term boyfriend looks up from his menu, his forest-green eyes etched in concern. “What? What’s wrong?” He, too, wore his Valentine’s Day best–a red sweater paired with an Armani blazer, designer slacks, and red bottom shoes. His hair, black and curly, is slicked back to show off his handsome features fit for a model…or a male nurse. Kaido is well-wanted at his job by almost every woman working in his hospital due to his dashing good looks and body worthy of drooling over, but as far as you’re concerned, he is tied down to you.

“O-Oh, nothing!” you immediately squeak, nervously laughing it off. Quickly, you come up with a lie to avoid explaining to Kaido about your ex whom you never told him about. “Sorry, I just saw a coworker and I can’t believe he’s here. He’s always an asshole to me.” You giggle again, hoping that this will help make things light, easy, and not at all awkward even though your body feels like it’s in fight or flight mode.

But it has the opposite effect. Immediately, Kaido begins looking around for him. “Really? Where is he? Maybe he needs to meet me.” You resist the urge to lurch across the table and cover his eyes. “No, no, Kaido, don’t! He’s an asshole to everyone.”

Kaido tuts, angrily taking a sip of the complimentary champagne you were given prior to sitting down before getting up, causing his chair to skid across the floor. The old couple sitting behind him stares at him in irritation. “Well, nobody treats my girl like that. You both work together, so—“

“Kaido, please stop,” you quietly huff, flushing with embarrassment. “You always do this.” Your boyfriend stares at you, alarmed. “Always do what?”

“Try to prove yourself to me,” you answer, irritation evident in your tone. “You don’t have to go out of your way to do that all the time.” You know it isn’t fair to get upset with him. It isn’t his fault that your ex-boyfriend has left you so shaken.

Kaido, still standing, scowls at you, offended. “So you’re mad because I want to defend you and be a good boyfriend to you?”

“No, that’s not…” Your words die in your throat, your heart pounding furiously in your chest. Now you feel horrible though there aren’t lies in your statement. Since you’ve been dating for over two years, Kaido has always gone out of his way to prove to you and himself that he is a great partner, somehow upping the last thing every single time.

Expensive gifts that you feel obligated to take. Romantic dates that you feel guilty for him taking you on. Constant phone calls and text messages that you often find yourself getting tired of receiving. You feel horrible for all of it because Kaido is such a sweet man. You couldn’t ask for anything more…could you?

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, moving your hand across the table to grab his. “I don’t wanna fight. I just don’t want to ruin tonight with bullshit like….him.” Your eyes flit across the room at Eren who licks the contents of his drink off of his upper lip, his tongue ring glinting in the dim, red light. The venom in your tone is evident.

Kaido’s eyes soften and he interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry too. I just love you, Y/N, y’know?” He gives you a smile that is so adoring that it pains you. “I really do.”

You feel that familiar lump at the mention of the L-word fill your throat, making it hard to even smile. “I—“

“And here are your drinks!” The waitress has returned with your drinks, acting as an angel who has come to save you in your hour of need. “A Moscow Mule and a glass of our finest wine.” She lowers your Moscato down in front of you, crisp and ready to be consumed. “Are you ready to order?” she asks, taking her notepad out.

“Yes!” you immediately chirp, digging into your menu for appetizers and a main course. It is the perfect distraction from having to lie to Kaido and say “I love you”.

Though you and Kaido have been together for two years, first meeting when you came in for nausea pills after a stomach flu, you haven’t said the L-word to him yet. He said it last year after he took you to your city’s annual Christmas lights festival and confessed under the most beautiful blue and white lights you’ve seen in your life. It was magical. It was romantic. It was the absolute wrong time.

“You don’t have to say it back yet,” he said, noticing your saddened and guilty expression. “Just tell me when you’re ready.” But you haven’t been ready for over two years now. And you’re not sure if you ever will. You care so deeply for Kaido, but you don’t think you’re in love with him. You can’t see him in your life forever the way you should.

Not like a certain someone. After you order your food, Kaido is busy putting in his order when you take a sip of your Moscato. You already had a glass of champagne, so maybe more alcohol isn’t a good idea because your eyes begin trailing. And they trail right over to Eren.

He looks so different yet the same. It is an odd mixture, but regardless, he still gives you the same butterflies that feel so new to you. You don’t think you even got butterflies when you first started dating Kaido. They are the same stupid, annoying, fluttery tingles that you got when you met Eren for the first time.

And then he turns and looks at you. Those intoxicating, enchanting, sinful teal eyes lock onto yours from across the restaurant. And instantly, you are taken back to five years ago when it was just him and you, and nothing else.

You were young and naive as one is during their first year of college. You were overworked and underpaid at your little part-time job to pay for school, so your friend introduced you to her plug. She walked you to Eren’s dorm where he answered his door in nothing but gray sweats with Paramore blasting in the background. He had less tattoos then, but was still everything your parents didn’t like: cool, aloof, didn’t give a single fuck, and sold weed to put himself through college and fund his tattoo business.

“Hey, Eren!” your friend greeted. “This is my friend, Y/N. She’s looking to buy a dime bag.” Her plug took one lazy look at you, his eyes rolling up your body, and you felt supremely exposed in your thin cardigan and hip-hugging jeans. As if noticing he got you, he smiled his award-winning Eren smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice silky. “Lemme get you two a drink.”

After that day, he was in your phone as your personal weed plug. The more you started visiting his dorm and the more he showed up at yours delivering personal baggies of weed, the more you got to know each other. It didn’t take long for the attraction to bloom and soon, you were falling hard for the boy.

He was your first love. The one you wanted to be with forever. You felt so safe in his arms, snuggled up in his dorm during free periods, catching the smoke rings he would make with his mouth between your lips. He gave you your first tattoo–a tiny heart between your breasts. “So I’m there forever,” he whispered, kissing you gently as he laid numbing cream on the fresh tattoo.

Eren was always has good of a dick plug as he was a weed plug and tattoo artist. He gave you the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. There were plenty times you skipped classes to get put into his mattress instead, filling his walls with the sound of your moans and the headboard knocking against the wall. When you broke up, your nights were filled with endless fantasies of his long, fat dick in your mouth and filling up your aching pussy, making you delirious enough to want to call him.

But Eren was also very toxic, jealous, and possessive. All to the point where it drove you crazy. He hated when you wore revealing clothes. He shot shady glances at men that even looked your way. He couldn’t stand any of your male friends and made it clear that you were his by leaving love bites on your neck. He would show up to your job or while you were out with friends, completely unannounced and uninvited.

You often got into fights over this which ended up hot, mindblowing sex that often fizzled out all of your anger…until one night a month before you graduated uni. After dating on and off for four years throughout school, you and Eren came to a standstill as graduation approached and you snagged your dream position in a city two hours away from home.

That was the night you broke up with Eren after a dick appointment. You didn’t tell him the news until after you got your nut. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t a good idea because of course, Eren was pissed. “You didn’t think to tell me this before the sex?” he scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed in his boxers.

“I didn’t know how, Eren,” you argued, sitting naked under your sheets. “As soon as you got here, you had your dick out!” That’s when the argument started, heated and loud, and that’s when you realized that you had to end your chapter with him right there.

That made Eren even angrier. “You’re actin’ like I can’t come over there to visit you,” he snapped as you hastily got dressed. “Or I can just move there! Do you not want me there?” He gave you that hurt look that often got you feeling guilty, but you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Don’t do that, Eren, please,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I just don’t want for you to have to give up your life here just for something that may not work.”

Realizing your mistake, your stomach lurched. But it was too late: Eren was wounded. “Why wouldn’t it?” he asked, his voice small and distant. You hurt him. You stood there, feeling like you were holding the gun and he was the target. “Because….because….”

Because you’re toxic. Possessive. Jealous. Dangerous for me because of that dick.

“Because I want a fresh start,” you lied. “And I can’t do that if I’m tied to you.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened, the anger radiating off of him in waves. “Tied to me?” he parroted, scoffing with a dry laugh. “So what? I’m like some kind of dead weight you need to get rid of?” You looked away, unable to see the hurt in his eyes. “Fine then,” he deadpaned, “but you know you won’t forget me. And I won’t forget you either, Y/N.”

And you never did. When he left that night, he took all of the joy and love with him. Even though he called and texted you for days after, you never answered, instead drowning yourself in finals and arrangements to move. After some time, the contact stopped and you went your separate ways. You never heard from or saw Eren again…until now. Now that you’ve moved back home and met a new man, here he is again.

“Let’s exchange gifts!” Kaido suddenly exclaims. You blink, pulled out of your memories, and look down to see a white box in front of you. Quickly, you fish his gift out of your bag and pass it to him with the brightest smile you can muster. “You can open yours first.”

Kaido grins and opens the tiny red gift bag, fishing the digital Amazon watch out of it. “It’s not quite an Apple Watch, but it’s close! You can download apps on it and it checks your blood pressure.” You wanted to buy the most pricey gift you could afford, hoping to accommodate for all of the expensive gifts he has given you.

Kaido cocks his head to the side like you’re a cute little puppy. “You’re too cute,” he tuts. “Now open mine!” You take a sip of wine before doing so and your smile drops at the sight of the 24k gold chain sitting inside the box. “Kaido,” you gasp. “Is it–”

“Real?” he chuckles, smiling proudly at you. “Yes, baby, it is. Let me put it on you.” He moves from his seat and comes behind you, gingerly taking the chain from the box to fasten it around your neck. As he does, Eren turns in his stool and watches, sipping on his Gin & Tonic. His face is unreadable and that angers you. Why is he even looking? Why is he even here?

And why the hell do you care?

Kaido’s hands brush your neck as he finishes and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gorgeous,” he whispers. “Just like I knew it’d be. Now, everyone knows that you’re mine.” Eren sips his drink again and the corner of his lips lift in a crooked smile. The same smirk that melted you.

Suddenly, you are overwhelmed. The restaurant has become too hot and too small. You feel like a giant Alice in a too-small room after eating the wrong cookie. Once Kaido sits down, you stand up like your ass is on fire. “U-Um…I’m gonna go pee real quick,” you say. “This wine is goin’ right through me.” You give Kaido a quick reassuring kiss on the lips before you make a beeline to the bathroom…but you don’t go in.

Instead, you find the nearest exit and go out for some much-needed fresh air. The air is bitter cold, tinged with winter, but you let it cool your clammy skin in your red cocktail dress. Standing on the restaurant’s patio, you breathe in and out slowly, calming yourself. In and out…in and out…in–

“Cold out here,” a familiar voice comments. “Where’s your coat?” The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Of course, Eren follows you the very moment you’re alone. Of course, you’re the only two out here.

You shouldn’t turn around, but you do. Like some kind of dark angel, he stands in the silvery glow of the moonlight, the light washing over his porcelain skin, black sweater, and jeans.

His name is inked on your tongue just like the tattoo he gave you, still implanted between your cleave: “Eren.” You don’t say it happily or with venom. You just say it.

But it’s enough to get Eren to smile. “Hey, you,” he greets you. “It’s been a long time.” You hate that he speaks to you as if you’re old friends. You’re not. “Why are you out here?” you scoff. Eren’s handsome face turns cold. “So that’s how you’re gonna talk to me after five years and actin’ like you ain’t know me in there?”

Here we fucking go. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here,” you say, your tone firm.

He shrugs, placing one inked hand in his pocket. “Just wanted to see if you were okay. You looked…startled, ‘specially when dude gave you that pretty chain.” He digs a Marbolo box out of his pocket. He still smokes after all of this time. When he lights that damn thing and his pink lips form an O around a smoke ring, you realize that you still find it attractive after all of this time as well.

The air is silent yet tense between you with unsaid words. “So you’re back in the city,” he states, his eyes gleaming at you. “When’d you come back? I thought you left for that big girl job.”

“I did, but it didn’t work out, so I came home last year.” You notice that his jaw is tight. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” you accusingly ask, squinting at him.

Eren scoffs as if the idea is preposterous. “Why would I be? We haven’t talked in, like, five years. Things changed…clearly.” He takes another drag of his smoke, blowing a steady stream out into the cold air.

“What does that mean?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from becoming agitated. What the hell is he getting at here? He passively shrugs like it should be obvious. “I just meant you’ve got a new man. He seems nice.” You sense bitterness, but you don’t comment on it. You don’t feel like turning this into something heated.

“So what of you?” you question, leaning against the wooden bar of the patio. “You still at the tattoo shop? Are you seein’ anyone new now?”

Eren smirks at you, quirking his pierced brow. “Well, aren’t you interested?” he chuckles. Still a teasing shit. You turn to leave, but he stops you with a hand on your elbow. “Hey, hey, I’m just kidding! I own the shop now and no, nobody new. I was seein’ someone for about two years, but it didn’t work out.”

You stare at him closely, trying to decode if he’s telling the truth or not…but then again, Eren was never a liar. A toxic asshole, yes, but never a liar. “So what happened?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest to hide yourself (and your hard nipples from the frigid air). “Did you do something? Did she?”

Eren shakes his head like you got it wrong and flicks his cig down on the ground. “Nah, it was a joint decision.” Knowing you need more meat than that, he sighs and snubs his cigarette out under his foot. “She thought I wasn’t the relationship type,” he explains with a dry smile on his face.

‘You weren’t,’ you think. ‘You still aren’t. That was why we broke up.’ You wonder briefly if he was as toxic with the mystery ex as he was with you. You wonder if he was as possessive and damn near yandere with her as he was with you the entirety of your relationship.

Eren gives you a strange look, his teal eyes turning into slits as he squints at you. You lean back a bit, alarmed and confused by his sudden interest in your face. “I’m detecting somethin’,” he points out. “You wanna talk about this?” He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by ‘this’, but he doesn’t have to. The last thing you want to talk about is anything about your or his new relationships. “Not really,” you huff. “Sorry, but I need to go.”

You know the more you are out here with him, the worse this situation will get. But as you go to pass him to enter the restaurant again, Eren gently grabs your hand. You whip around, trying to tug yourself away. “What are you doing?” you demand. “Eren, don’t.”

But he doesn’t let go and his firm yet burning expression tells you that he isn’t letting anything go. “You don’t really love that guy,” he says, accusingly so. “I can tell. The minute he put that necklace on you, you looked like you wanted to hide under the table and never come back out.”

You glare daggers at him, angered. “How dare you?” you hiss, ripping your hand from his. “You don’t know me anymore, Eren, and you clearly didn’t know me back then! I was looking for real, genuine love, but you clearly couldn’t give me that ‘cause of your shit. You’ve got issues.”

Eren’s eyes flash with something that you can’t decipher, but you know it ain’t nice. “And you don’t?” he scoffs. “You’re sittin’ there pretendin’ to play ‘love-struck girlfriend’ with a dude you ain’t even in love with. I could see it a mile away.” He moves closer to you until he is practically looming over you, making your heart jump. “You forget I know you, Y/N: I know your body too well.”

He gently traces a finger down your arm, sending goose pimples all over you. “Get off,” you whisper-hiss. You shove him by his chest and he lets you, stepping away to allow you space. “I’m not doing this with you. Ever.” Quickly, you yank open the door and head back into the restaurant, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You know he is still staring at you as you retreat, but you don’t dare look back.

Even when you sit back down with Kaido, your body won’t relax and you still feel on edge. You barely even notice that your food is here. Kaido looks up from his sea bass, worried. “Hey, that was a long trip,” he comments. “You alright?” You grip your wine and take a much-needed sip to calm your nerves. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “I just–”

And then suddenly, your ex is there again. You see his tatted hand by your shoulder, holding the arm of your chair, and you nearly jump out of your skin. His arrival is like a damn jumpscare in a horror movie, smile and all. “Don’t mean to interrupt the V-Day date here,” he chuckles, standing among you and Kaido. “Just wanted to say it’s nice to see you again, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re happy.”

His smile is supposed to be kind and warm, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know: he still isn’t over you and he intends to make himself known to your new man. You sit as rigid as a board, unable to breathe properly. Kaido confusedly looks between you and Eren. “Who’s this, babe?” he asks, all innocent and cluseless. But you can’t say it. You can’t even breathe. “I’m Eren,” your ex replies, holding a hand out to Kaido. “An old friend of hers.” The two men firmly shake. “We go waaay back, don’t we, Y/N?”

Eren turns to you, his smile turning into a crooked, teasing smirk that makes you want to toss your Moscato in his face. “Uh…yeah,” you squeak. “It was nice to see you again.” You offer him a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He slowly moves towards you and bends down, making your blood pressure shoot through the roof.

“You too,” he whispers and his lips ghost your cheek in a slight kiss. His hand rests somewhere at his side, undetectable. Though you try to fight it, his lips and the closeness of his body brings your entire body to life and you suddenly feel things that Kaido–your Kaido–has never made you feel before.

Eren then straightens and gives a respectful nod to Kaido. “Enjoy your dinner.” And like a thief in the night, he is gone, walking towards the bar to grab his leather jacket and leaving the restaurant. You watch him, your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, as your body burns…and your pussy aches. “Well, he had some cool ink,” Kaido laughs. “Those gages were gruesome though.”

He goes back to eating his dinner like everything is normal while his girlfriend is sitting across from him, aroused for another man. Roughly swallowing more wine, you take your napkin from the table and unfold it to lay in your lap. As you do, a folded piece of paper tumbles out of your napkin and into your lap.

You already know how it got there. With shaky hands, you unfold it and read the note written there for you, including a phone number:

If you decide you want a real romantic night, call me. I know you deleted my number. – Love Always, Your Best

You nearly throw up the rest of your dinner as you stare at Eren’s handwriting. You barely can swallow your food despite the tiny pieces you cut it up in. Luckily, dinner ends abruptly because Kaido gets irritated by the drunk businessmen sitting at the bar behind him and pays the tab.

By the this time, you’ve drunk more than you chewed, so the wine and champagne are making you feel bubbly, light, and sexy. You hang onto Kaido’s shoulder as he walks you outside, your trench wrapped tightly around you. “Thank you for dinner tonight,” you purr. “I have dessert back at my place…and ice cream.”

Kaido turns to you, his eyes alight from your secret meaning. You smile and lean in for a kiss to coax him back to your apartment, but his ringtone stops you. Irritated, Kaido swears and pulls it out of his pocket, becoming more agitated at the message there. “Shit,” he huffs. “M’sorry, babe, but that’s the office. They want me to come in for a last-minute triage.”

You blink at him, confused. “But I thought you were free tonight. You took off for the day, right?” That is what he told you at the beginning of the week when he made the reservations. Kaido gives you a sheepish look and you realize he “bended” the truth. “Only for a few hours,” he sighs. “I didn’t think they’d need me.”

You can already feel disappointment twisting in your gut. “But it’s Valentine’s Day,” you argue. “Why are you going to work on a day meant for us?”

Kaido sighs, already sounding irritated with you. “Babe, I’m sorry, but don’t get so worked up. You shouldn’t feel too bad…I mean, things are still one-sided between us.”

You detect the switch-up in his tone immediately. “What does that mean?” you scoff. Kaido looks away, refusing to look at you, but that sour expression stays locked on his face. “What?” you push. “Because I haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet?” Kaido doesn’t answer nor does he look at you. Those actions are all the answers you need: he is angry you haven’t uttered those three little words yet.

Suddenly, tonight feels like shit and so do you. “Kaido, I told you before: I care about you so deeply, but it’s too early for me,” you say, exasperated. “I’ll only say it when I’m ready.”

“Then when will that be?” he demands, finally looking at you. The hurt in them is clear. “It’s been a year, Y/N! How long do you need to know that you love someone?” You are stunned into silence and suddenly, you feel like crying. How could he spur this on you now of all nights?

Kaido’s phone rings again and he sighs, running a hand through his curly hair. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to him, too afraid of breaking out into sobs or cussing him out. Instead, you stay quiet as he drives you home and it is by far the most uncomfortable moment you’ve ever experienced. You’ve never been so happy to be in your crib alone when Kaido leaves after dropping you off.

You kick off your heels, drape your coat over the couch, and slump on the couch. You feel trashy. Unsexy. Lonely. The alcohol only intensifies your shitty feelings until you want to crawl out of yourself and hide. So what do you do instead of taking your ass to bed? You dig Eren’s note out of your pocket, which you kept instead of throwing away, and get your phone…but you stop from dialing his number.

‘Don’t do it,’ a tiny voice in your head says. The voice of reason. Your thumb hovers above your phone screen as you teeter-totter between right and wrong.

In the end, you ignore the voice of reason, the loneliness and wine speaking for you, and dial his number. You put your phone on speaker, not wanting to fuck up your makeup and wait in anticipation for the ringing to stop. After the fourth one, it does. “Hello?” he asks. His silky voice fills your living space.

“It’s me,” you exhale. You can’t even speak properly. After all of these years, he has this effect on you still? “I know,” he replies and you wonder if he’s been anticipating your call. “How you doin’? You okay?” You pause for a moment, your muddled mind not processing the situation properly.

“You wanna come over?” The words fly out of you before you can stop yourself. Eren pauses for a moment and the silence is so damn loud. “Do you want me to come over, Y/N?” he asks. Once again, the very dangerous word flies out of you: “Yes.”

Eren inhales slightly as if he can’t believe you’re agreeing to this. You can’t believe it either. “Tell me the address,” he demands, his tone heady with need. You tell him and you can hear his car keys jingling. “I’ll be there in ten.” And then the call is done. You sit there, wondering what the hell just happened, and what the hell you just did.

You just invited your very toxic ex over to your place. On Valentine’s Day. The reality about how bad you fucked up hits you like a truck. You need to stop this. You need to call him back right now and–

Ding-dong! Your Ring alerts you to someone at your door and your pulse jumps. Ten minutes passed already? Slowly, you get up from the couch and walk over to the door, your feet softly padding across the hardwood. “Who is it?” you ask.

“Who do you think?” Eren replies, a smile in his voice. “I’m here to rob you.” You briefly contemplate leaving the door shut, but you open it anyway. There he stands in his clothes from tonight, holding a bottle of watermelon margarita mix. “I brought some stuff for the occasion.” He slips a Ziploc bag out of his pocket. Inside it are papers, a lighter, and a small baggie of marijuana.

You stare nervously at the smoke contents and then at him. Noticing your reluctance, Eren frowns. “I’m not gon’ do anythin’, Y/N. I’m not here for none of that…just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He patiently stands there, letting you decide for yourself whether to let him in or not. Finally, against your better judgment, you open your door wider and allow him to step inside, his cologne curling into your nostrils.

For the next thirty minutes, you and Eren drink and get high as kites. He places his shoes by the door and makes himself at home on your couch before rolling a blunt on your coffee table. You watch his expert fingers roll, twist, and pinch as you sip on a glass of the sweet, tequila-infused margarita mix, becoming drunker and drunker with every sip and suddenly wanting Eren to lick you the way he licks the blunt closed.

After that, you pass the blunt back and forth between one another, talking about the past and giggling about stupid shit. The tension in the room ebbs as the air becomes thick with the scent of pungent weed and the sound of Daniel Caesar playing from your Amazon Echo sitting in your kitchen. It is as if things never changed between you two. Things are still the same, but better because you’re both adults now.

Eren sits back into the cushions, puffing on the blunt. “So what happened?” he asks. His teal eyes are slitted and slightly red from the smoke fumes. You know you’re not that much hotter. You feel like you’re falling out of your dress. “He went to work tonight, so I got mad, so we had a public fight.” You shrug, sipping your drink while Eren pulls a disgusted face. “He went to work on Valentine’s Day? I’ve never done that to anyone before.” Smoke billows from between his pierced lips as he passes you the blunt. “How’d you even meet him?”

You roll your eyes, but tell him anyway as you take a puff of the blunt. The smoke and the alcohol have begun to make you feel looser. So loose that you could lose the dress if you wanted to. “That’s so clichè,” he laughs. “Super corny…but you always did like that cutesy shit. It’s one of the reasons why I loved you so much.”

You don’t stumble on the L-word like you would’ve if you were sober. “That was a looong time ago,” you chuckle. You go to pass the blunt to him but nearly spill your glass on yourself. “Whoops, careful, baby,” he says, laying a hand on your back to help you. “You nearly spilled that on your couch.”

You make the mistake of looking at him then and suddenly, you realize just how handsome Eren is: a sharp jawline with an angular-shaped face, soft lips, and intoxicating eyes. He’s so close. His gaze falls to your lips as his Adam’s Apple bobs and it snaps you back into reality.

“No,” you gasp, pushing yourself away from him. “This was a bad idea. You should go.” you nearly stumble as you stand, but you manage to save yourself. “What?” he asks, confused. “But I just got here. I thought we were talkin’.”

“We did talk,” you snap, moving to the door. “Now you need to go before…” You stop talking before you say something that will get you in trouble. Instead, you turn the knob to your door, but Eren’s hand stops you. You gasp and turn around, realizing that he somehow transitioned from the couch to you in a few seconds. “Before what?” he pushes. “Before you do somethin’ you know you wanna do?”

He looms over you, his hand on your wrist, completely in your personal space. “Eren, don’t,” you whisper. “Please leave.” You try to twist yourself away from him, but his other hand holds your waist. “I can’t,” he murmurs. “Not until you admit that I’m what you need. You know you don’t love that guy.” Because you’re so short, he bends his knees slightly to reach you, his lips ghosting your cheek. “He can’t make you feel how I can.”

He presses a kiss there that electrifies you. Those electric kisses travel down to your neck, sensitive and personal. “Eren,” you weakly moan. “Don’t do this.” You press your hands to his chest, wanting to push him away, but your body is too weak. Too tired. “Don’t push me away, baby,” he sighs. “Don’t deny yourself.”

And then his lips, soft and slightly cold from lip piercing, are on yours. His kiss is deep. Passionate. Personal. It makes your heart explode and your mind melt into a puddle—not at all how Kaido’s kisses are. They are just as addictive as they were in the past. And so you kiss him back. Your fingers clench his shoulders as his hands caress your ass, squeezing the globes over the fabric.

“I fucking hate you,” you growl. He smirks against your lips, gently sucking on your bottom lip.

“No, you don’t,” he replies. And you don’t. You can’t. And you hate that. Despite all of his bullshit, you still love his kiss. His touch. His sex.

He pulls you close to him, making you feel the bulge pressing against his jeans. You gasp against his lips, a spark of pleasure exploding in your core. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, his lips coating your throat. His teeth graze there, leaving little lovebites that you’ll surely cuss him out for later. “Fuck me,” you beg. “And then leave.”

He pulls away, his eyes ablaze with lust, and slams his mouth against yours again. “Where the fuck is your bedroom?” he mutters against your lips.

Suddenly, your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms are intertwined around his shoulders as he carries you to your bedroom, his footsteps quick in stride. Your tongues swirl and your lips caress one another as you kiss, indulging in each other’s taste and the moans you give and receive. Finally, Eren makes it to your bedroom and slams the door shut with the back of his foot before placing you on the edge of your bed.

Everything moves in flashes like some kind of movie with scenes missing: your dress comes off; your bra is unclasped and replaced with Eren’s hands massaging and molding your tits; his shirt comes off, exposing his muscles, pierced, tan nipples, and scatterings of tattoos adoring his porcelain skin. His eyes are ablaze with lust as he kneels before you between your thighs, his big hands massaging them. “Lemme see you,” he murmurs.

Slowly, your knees part, and your pussy is exposed to him. A slow smirk stretches across his lips as he gazes up at you. No panties. You were planning this but Kaido, but you guess your ex works too. “God, I’ve missed this,” he sighs. “Look how wet she is fa’ me.”

He takes two fingers and swirls them over your clit before moving down over your slit, gentle yet effective. You gasp at the soft contact, pleasure exploding all over your body. “Eren, c’mon,” you whine. “Please.” His gaze darkens, damn near feral, as he opens your legs wider, pinning them apart. “Don’t move,” he demands and then he’s diving down between your thighs.

One thing about Eren that you always loved is how he eats pussy. He goes crazy with your shit, alternating between long, slow licks and quick lashes against your clit that make your eyes roll back and your toes curl. His magical, wet mouth and soft lips suckle on the needy button of your clit, soaking your pussy in his saliva that he slurps back up with no problem or disgust. When his tongue finally dips back between your slit, you nearly lose it. “F-Fuck!” you gasp. “Eren, yes! Go deeper!”

Your fingers grasp his long, black locks for dear life, pushing him deeper into your pussy. But he manages to look up to give you a cocky smile. “If you’re louder for me, sure.” Smug motherfucker.

He continues to give you long strokes of his tongue, the cold metal of his piercing melting against the hot, wet, spongy walls of your pussy and somehow making everything more sensitive. “Fuck, please!” you sob. “Please, please fuckin’ give it to me!”

Tears soak your lashes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. This feels too good. It’s almost painful. Eren smiles and proceeds to tongue-fuck you, his nose nuzzling against your clit as he dips his tongue in and out of your hole.

Your moans bounce off of the walls, loud and brazen, unable to be contained. Eren pulls away with a moan as he gazes down at your glittering, sobbing wet pussy. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he groans against your clit. “She’s mine, isn’t she? Only mine?”

Smack! “Oh!” you gasp as his hand comes down onto your clit, smacking it hard. “Fuckin’ tell me what I wanna hear,” he growls. “Tell me that this pussy is mine.” Smack! Smack! You buck from the pleasurable sting, nearly cumming from his calloused palm wetly smacking your cunt.

“I-It’s yours!” you gasp. “It’s yours, Daddy, I swear!”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Good girl,” he coos. “Now cum for me so I can finally fuck that mouth.” He goes right back to tonguing you down with a mission, swiping his nose against your clit as he eats you out so good that you see stars. He moves his jaw with every intention of making you cum. “Do it, mama,” he begs, his words slightly muffled by your sticky cunt. “Cum for me. Give it all to me.”

And you do. You can’t help it. You are controlled by him like a puppet is by her master and with every string he pulls, he makes you gush around his tongue. He greedily moans and laps at all of the cream you give him, gulping it down like a starved man as you moan and call his name to the ceiling, massaging your tits in the throes of your pleasure as you do.

When you finally calm and your back straightens from its arch, Eren pulls away, his lips shining with your juices. “Missed that shit,” he sighs. “Missed you so much.” He bends down to swoop you up in a deep, messy kiss, forcing you to taste yourself. When he pulls away, he is as feral and demanding as he was before. “Sit up, take off my clothes, and open that pretty mouth up fa’ me.”

Despite your brain still trying to reboot from that orgasm and your limbs feeling like spaghetti, you still do as he says. You sit up on the bed and allow him to kneel in front of you, his crotch right in your face. He watches as you peel off his pants and underwear while he toes off his socks, soon leaving himself completely naked. You admire his toned muscles, your hands gliding down his stomach to his V-line and muscular thighs. Oh, how you’ve missed his body.

And how you’ve really missed his cock. He is so hung. So long. So curved, the tip nearly kissing his lower stomach. With a crooked smile, he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock and gently taps it against your chin. Just how you like it. Your jaw falls open and your tongue rolls out, allowing him to tap his head, sticky with pre, against it.

“You remember how I like it, mama?” he asks. “Or do I need to refresh your memory?”

More or less, you do need a memory jogger. But once he’s got that big, long, beautiful cock in your mouth, you are taken back to your dorm years when you used to bob your head for your life giving him top between free periods. His dick stretches out your mouth just the way you remember as he settles on your tongue, his hips slowly rolling against your chin.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” he moans. “Fuckin’ fuck, I’ve missed this pretty mouth.” He peers down at you with those teal eyes, one hand in your hair while the other cascades down between your open thighs. “Wanna take me deeper, ma? Think my fingers will help you?”

You feel his long fingers prying your pussy lips open and slipping between them to glide along your slit. You moan around Eren’s cock as your pussy pulses and throbs in pleasure, the act somehow making your jaw stretch wider. His fingers then slip into your slippery, velvety-soft pussy while he sinks his cock deep into your throat. “Mmmm!” you moan, the pathetic sound muffled by his cock.

He grins as he begins to fuck your face, ruining your makeup and causing spit to drip down your chin as he fingers you. “That’s it: moan around my cock, baby. I can hear you just fine.” He smirks, curling his fingers upward and making your toes curl as pleasure shocks you to your core. “I can hear somethin’ else too. You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

You concur, your ears perking at the sound of his fingers squelching inside of your sloppy pussy that just keeps drooling and creaming around his long, inked fingers. His cock is just as drenched in your mouth, making wet sounds every time he plunges into your throat, his balls flush against your chin. Every saccharine moan and grunt that leaves his lips pushes you closer to the edge of another orgasm that ripples on the surface.

Eren slips his cock out of your mouth to stroke it furiously in your face, entranced by your moans as he finger-fucks you. “E-Eren!” you warn. “Eren, baby, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!”

Suddenly, the pleasure ceases as he slips his fingers, slick with your juices, out of you. “Uh-uh,” he growls. “Not yet. Not till I’m inside of you.” He brings his fingers up to your mouth and you obediently suck on them, rolling your tongue around his digits. “I’m not finished with you yet, baby, and I know you’re not finished with me.”

He takes you and tosses you back onto the bed, making you bounce against the mattress. Then he is yanking you close by your ankles and hiking your thighs up over his hips, your pretty toes contrasting with his lighter skin tone. “After all, I’ve gotta remind you who fucks you the best. Five years later, and I’m still your best, baby. Let me remind you why. ”

He gives you a shit-eating smile before he takes his cock and–

“Oh, my God!” you gasp, your eyes blown and your mouth agape. As soon as he is inside of you, stretching you, bottoming out in your pussy, you feel like you’re soaring and flying through the heavens. The ecstasy is monumental, opening up your senses in a way where you feel like you were just bit by a radioactive spider. You can taste the sweat on Eren’s tongue; hear every ragged breath he takes as he pumps himself into you; see every vein pulse in his pecs and neck; feel his body throb as you grip his forearms, pectorales, and shoulders.

He stares deep into your eyes as he drills your cunt into the bed, giving you deep, long strokes that make your toes curl and your body writhe in need for more. “And who fucks you the best?” he breathlessly asks. His hand snatches out to grab your throat, massaging it in time with his strokes. “Say it to me nice an’ clear, baby. Tell Daddy who owns you.”

He squeezes your throat a little harder, applying extra pressure to intensify the pleasure you’re swimming in. “You!” you loudly sob. “You do, Daddy! Fuck, just like that, Eren! Please keep fucking me just like that!” You would gladly tell him anything for him to keep fucking you so good. Fat tears soak your lashes sticky with ruined mascara as moans, whimpers, and gasps pass your lips wiped clean of lipgloss.

Eren gives you that very Eren grin–cocky and prideful. Because he knows he’s killing that shit. He releases your throat and applies both hands beside your head to give himself support before thrusting a little faster, his hips rolling in a way that makes his pelvis brush against your clit. “Just like this?” he teases, his hair and chain tickling your face. “Is that good for you, babe?”

You can’t even answer him. The entire English language has been wiped clean from your brain. All because of his cock. His sex. His everything. The way sounds he makes, the heady scent of his cologne, and the lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours pull you over the edge into the abyss of ecstasy, making your eyes flutter shut and your jaw grow slack. “Cum for me,” he demands. “C’mon, baby, do it again. Gimme that fuckin’ cum.”

He goes faster, harder, drilling your pussy into the bed as if he is trying to win an award doing so. The award is your orgasm which is explosive and intense. “OH!” you shout as you unravel around Eren’s cock. Your moans are loud and desperate as your pussy squeezes around the cock inside of you, your walls clenching and pulsing, giving Eren a hard time trying to hold himself back from a nut.

But not yet. He can’t leave this here. His face flushed and his hair in his face, he pulls his slick cock out of you as you buck and twitch from your orgasm. “Not done,” he growls. “Not done with you yet.”

Suddenly, as quick as a flash, you are on your stomach and Eren is behind you, forcing you onto your hands and knees. Your arms feel like jelly, so all you can do is press your face into the bed as your ass is hiked up for him. He gives it a couple of harsh smacks–Smack! Smack! Smack!–before his cock is slowly sinking back inside of you. “E-Eren, wait!” you squeak. “I’m t-too sensitive!”

His laugh is breathless and enraging. He loves seeing you in agony. “Don’t worry: I won’t go fast.” He presses kisses to your back as he begins to slowly roll his hips into your ass. “Just relax for me, mama. You’re in good hands.”

And then plap-plap-plap go the sounds in the room as he fucks you from behind. Your ass jiggles and claps against his thighs as he gives you deep thrusts that make your pussy melt around him and your clit excitedly jump from the stimulation. “Eren,” you whimper. “Please, please, please!”

Evidently, you’re louder than you thought you were, causing Eren to tut. “You’re so loud, baby…I’ll have to fix that.” He yanks you up and his hand pushes your face to turn to the side, allowing him to give you a deep kiss that steals all of the air out of your lungs just as his cock does. “That’s it,” he coos. “Just enjoy this for me, baby. Lemme give you what you need.”

Then you’re back onto the bed, your face in the mattress and your moans swallowed by the sheets as the man above you fucks you absolutely dumb. You don’t know which way is up and which is down. The world spins around you, dizzying yet intoxicating, the sex you’re receiving turning you inside out.

“So slutty,” Eren chuckles above you, rolling his hips as he sinks his cock deep inside of your wet, heavenly hole. “Just listen to all the sounds you’re makin’ for me. Bet your man couldn’t make you sound like this.” He leans down to press himself fully against you, his pelvis brushing against your ass. “Y’know, I never forgot about you,” he whispers. “I never stopped lovin’ you, Y/N.”

His soft lips begin to caress your neck and shoulders before he picks both himself and you up, giving himself a chance to prop his leg up. The new position leaves you a moaning, sobbing mess, your pussy suddenly having no choice in the matter of cumming again. You grab the sheets so tight that your knuckles turn white as you feel your third orgasm cresting. “Eren,” you moan. “Oh, fuck, m’gonna…gonna…!”

“Yeah?” he teasingly asks. “You wanna cum all over this dick again, huh?” He wrenches your head back with his hand on your chin. “Then tell me that you love me. Tell me you love it when I fuck you.”

“I-I…” Your mind is moving a million miles a second, the pleasure leaving a thick fog in front of your sense of reality. You know you shouldn’t, but the way Eren fucks you is too good to resist telling him anything he doesn’t wish to hear: “I love you,” you whisper, the forbidden words passing your lips. “I love you so much, Daddy! I love it when you fuck me! You do it so good!”

You feel him smile against your cheek, his other hand gripping your ass as you begin to furiously rub at your clit, your fingers slipping and sliding along the rosebud. “Now tell me that you’re gonna leave that asshat for me.”

The fog clears a bit and it is enough for you to process what he just said. “W-What?” you stammer. “Eren–”

He roughly bends you over, cutting you off, and gives your ass a harsh smack that sends your clit into a frenzy. “Say it,” he orders. “Say it and I’ll let you cum. Tell me you’re gonna break up with him as soon as tonight is over.” Harder. Faster. His thrusts grow more intense than ever, making it a point to make you so insane and so desperate that you fall apart at the seams.

“Say it!” he bellows. “Fuckin’ say it!”

Tears soak the sheets and officially ruin your makeup as your self-control leaves you. You know that you are about to commit the ultimate betrayal just to get your nut. “I’ll leave!” you sob. “I’ll leave him for you, Daddy! I love you so, so much!”

The laugh that leaves Eren’s mouth is evil, damn near entering villain territory. “I love you too, baby,” he laughs. “Now cum for me like a good girl.” All it takes is a few more of those luscious, mind-blowing thrusts until you are cumming uncontrollably around his cock once more, screaming into the bed as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

Eren moves faster, fucking your cum-soaked pussy with vigor to chase his own high, massaging and palming your ass as he does. He then pulls himself out of you and furiously strokes his dick against your butt, the sounds of his hand stroking his wet cock drifting in the air. “Fuck, fuck!” he grunts before he lets out a series of luscious moans as ropes of cum spurt from his cock and onto your asscheeks.

You tiredly whimper as you feel warm spurts of his spunk hit your skin, signaling the end for the both of you. Your body and pussy throb in tandem from the session, your skin soaked in sweat, the air heedy with the scent of sex. Eren raggedly exhales and collapses next to you onto his stomach. His hand slides across your back, running gently down your spine. “That’s my sexy fuckin’ baby,” he coos.

You can’t say anything back. Exhaustion has taken over and suddenly, so has sleep. You don’t make a fuss as Eren pulls you up the bed and helps you under the covers, the cool sheets settling across your damp skin. You feel his body next to yours, the scent of his sweat and cologne filling your nostrils. Your cheek rests against his chest as his hand tangles in your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Sleep now. I’ll be seein’ you soon.”

You don’t answer because sleep has made her arrival and has swept you away to quiet and serene nothingness.

When you awaken the next morning to the winter sun pouring in through your bedroom window, you are alone. The bed is made and your dress is neatly folded at your feet. It is as if nothing happened last night and you slept alone.

But the delicious ache in your body tells you differently. And the note sitting by your lamp along with a glass of orange juice and an Aspirin definitely tells you differently.

With your head clearing from the sleep and the reality of your horrible situation hitting you (along with a hangover), you pick up the note and read Eren’s messy handwriting:

Thanks for last night. Hit me up again soon. xxxx

-Love Always, Your Best

Putting the note down, you grab your house phone from the nightstand and dial Kaido’s number. It is the one thought you have to do first to start your morning. Not stretching. Not getting a glass of water. Not showering or brushing your teeth or contemplating whether or not to kill yourself because you slept with your toxic ex-boyfriend.

Instead, you face reality head-on like a real bitch as Kaido’s voicemail enters your eardrum: “Hi, this is Kaido Ashida! I’m not here right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

Beep. Your mouth opens. “Kaido,” you automatically say. “Hi…it’s me. I think we need to talk after last night.”

And then the guilt sets in as you stare down at Eren’s note, your body teeming for another night with him soon. “I don’t think this is gonna work,” you sigh.

THE END.

#Youtube #eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #toxic relationship #toxic love #attack on titan smut #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n

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pinksugarberries · 2 days ago

Text

Se-mi NSFW alphabet

♪ ⁺ ➺ new upload! ⌢ 　　⠀ 𝜗𝜚ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ﹏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀°(ˊ ᵔ ˋ )°　　⠀𝄒!　　⠀

∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: N/A⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ 🍯

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: smut (obviously), hair pulling, spit, cigarette burning on skin, humiliation, recording, idk if i’m forgetting anything, female reader intended, fingering, overstimulating, se-mi and reader are switches, no game au　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: sorry for not posting tbh im just a lazy bums and i’ve been playing adopt me and cookie run kingdom… plz dont pull up to my house with pitchforks. enjoy this basic upload every other creator has done while i figure out how the ruck im gonna write this se-mi fic without getting second hand embarrassment. i wanna die. i might just scrap it and actually do the nam-gyu hate sex ok sorry for yapping ok bye done ok it’s about to start OKAY BYE IM SORRY აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Aftercare

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they like after sex

in my opinion, after fucking your brains out she would take the best care of you. bringing you practically any snacks, drinks, or take a shower with you (maybe have continuing shower sex) ♡⸜(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ )⸝

if she subbed that night, she would usually be knocked out immediately and not ask for not, but may cuddle you in her sleep.

Body part

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — their favorite body part about themselves and about you.

her favorite body part about her is definitely her tongue and fingers. she loves to specially please you with her tongue, licking and biting the sensitive spots on your neck and giving u a new rack of hickeys all over your perky, sensitive chest. she loves to watch you suck on her fingers and overstimulate you.

her favorite body part about you is definitely your tits or thighs. she loves sitting between them, or marking them as her own territory. she loves looking at your tits and can look at them for hours straight. she loves grabbing them while your on top and watching you bounce around on her strap, or looking at them in a tube top or a tank top u decided to wear, which showed off some of the healed hickeys she gave you. (you miserably failed at hiding them with your hair)

Cum

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — anything about cum

she loves watching you coat her fingers white with your sweet juices while she’s fingering you, overstimulating you too the brim. if you’re not frying and yearning for her touch by the end of your session, she didn’t do her job correctly.

she likes to see you make a mess all over her strap, she has countless videos of your cumming all over her in her camera roll.

Dirty secret

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — a dirty secret of theirs

she wants to have high sex with you, but she knows it’ll never happen.

has a photo album in her hidden photos of just your nudes

Experience

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how my much experience do they have?

she’s not as experienced, but she knows how to please you and only you.

Favorite Position

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — (it’s not favourite you dorks)

she definitely prefers reverse cowgirl and doggystyle. but while your topping her, she finds it more comfortable to ride you. while your in doggystyle position, she loves to grab onto your lose tits as you take her strap relentlessly.

Goofy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — are they more serious during intimacy?

ok so i don’t she’s as serious as you guys think she is, sure she is like LOCKED IN but she might crack a corny joke at the wrong time while you’re having sex, that’s just who she is.

Intimacy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how intimate are they during sex?

she’s not the biggest on intimacy, but she doesn’t completely neglect it. sometimes if you’re both tired but still horny she’ll take things more slow and talk you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while her strap is pounding into you slowly but deeply.

Jack off

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how frequent do they masturbate/jack off?

she doesn’t masturbate much, but if she does it’s because you’re away from her.

she never watches porn. why would she when she has videos and photos of you in her phone?

Kink

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — one or more of their kinks

i don’t know if there’s a specific kink name for this, but she would enjoy smoking while your having sex, and lighting them out all over your body, leave cigarette marks all over your thighs and back, likes she’s painting a canvas.

would love the idea of breeding you but (you know) (should i made g!p next?)

loves to overstimulate you during sex. her favorite way to clear you is swirling her tongue around your sensitive clit as she had 3 to 4 fingers in your hole, pounding into you relentlessly.

Location

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — where they like or dislike to have sex

she would pretty much do it anywhere with your approval.

but she feels more comfortable in your house.

she prefers to bend you over onto the counter and fuck you in your kitchen, or catch you off guard while your in the living room.

Motivation

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what turns them on

she definitely gets turned on by your body, and just you in general.

she likes it when you tease her, but she also finds it slightly annoying while the both of you are in a public area.

she loves seeing you vulnerable with her, and she is grateful to have your trust.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they would not do at all, no negotiations

sorry, but definitely role play. she wouldn’t take it serious and she thinks it’s just stupid and a time waster.

even though she likes to see your pretty tears fall while she’s fucking you, she would never inflict pain onto you, even if you asked, she just isn’t that type of person.

Oral

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — preferences in giving, receiving, and skill

she is definitely more on the giving side, but she wouldn’t mind receiving.

she loves when you sit on her face. she gets to play with your ass while she eats you out (win win situation for her)

she has some of the best skills, like… i don’t think she is bad at it at all. but when you guys first had intercourse, it wasn’t as good as it was now.

Pace

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — fast? rough? slow? sensual?

she can be any of these at any time.

she she’s subbing, she prefers you to be more sensual that she is with you. she loves when you whisper in her ear and feel on her body as you fuck her, it really gets her going.

she prefers to go rough, but slow/sensual with you. like DEEP ass thrust. (with her strap… heh.)

Quickie

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they think of quickies

she loves a good quickie once in while, especially if it’s you and her in a slightly cramped bathroom as she’s fingering your itch all her might, her other hand gripping your clothed toy as you put a hand over your mouth. she loves to feel your body pulsate over her fingers.

but, she does prefer to do the whole thing when you get home, she feels more comfortable and she feels like her best performances are there.

Risk

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — do they take risk during sex? do they like to explore?

she doesn’t usually explore unless you bring anything up.

she has a hate love relationship with risk. ever since the two of you got caught that one time fucking in nam-guys bathroom, she’s always been down but a bit more cautious.

Stamina

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how many rounds can they go?

she can go about 5 rounds max before she is out cold.

surprisingly, she has a lot more stamina than you thought she would.

her thrust and licks may get a bit lazier and weaker on the 5th round, but she is more sensual and more attractive during her tired, vulnerable moment.

Toys

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — do they own toys? do they use them? etc.

strap, dildo, vibrator

(sometimes she uses the dildo on herself—) WHO SAID THAT

she definitely likes to overstimulate with toys as well, not just her tongue.

she also enjoys to watch you fuck yourself with a dildo sometimes when she’s out of it but still horny.

Unfair

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how much they tease during sex

she is a TOTAL tease.

she also constantly edges you or makes you beg for your release.

she also gets extremely cocky during sex, just thought i should add that

Volume

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how loud are they during sex?

while she’s domming, she’s not really the loudest when she isn’t scissoring you. she may let out a few grunts once in awhile

when the two of you are scissoring, she moans a lot louder and more than you expected her too, she gets REALLY in the moment.

Wild card

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — a random headcannon of the character

let’s you squirt into her mouth without any compliants

X-ray

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what’s going on under them panties?

idfk how to answer this.. she has a black 7inch strap.

Yearning

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how high is their sex drive

her sex drive isn’t the highest, but it’s not the lowest, she’s somewhere in the middle, but she’s never turned down an opportunity to have sex with you.

Zzz

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how quickly they fall asleep after sex

she usually isn’t fast asleep, she may turn on the tv for white noise for the both of you to fall asleep too or grab you some water, than falls sleep next to you.

but if she’s REALLY tired, she is almost out immediately.

#Spotify #squid game 2 #se mi squid game #squid game season 2 #pinksugarberries loves #i’m just a girl #se mi smut #se mi #lesbian #lgbtqia #se mi x reader

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little-jana · 1 day ago

Text

"Caffeine and Affection"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: excessive caffeine consumption, but otherwise pure fluff

Summary: For Valentine’s Day Spencer surprises you with a very special bouquet!

a/n: requested: yes! Thank you very much, hope you enjoy it!

The BAU ran on coffee.

At least, most of it did. Hotch practically had a coffee IV, Rossi wouldn’t touch anything under espresso-level strength, and even Spencer—who could rant about the adverse effects of caffeine for hours—drank coffee when cases ran late.

But you? You were different.

Your fuel of choice came in cans, not cups. Whether it was soda or energy drinks, you always had something sugary and carbonated in your hand. It had become part of your identity—something the team liked to tease you about but ultimately accepted.

Spencer, however, took a particular interest in your habit.

“You know,” he had told you one day, watching you crack open yet another can, “the excessive consumption of sugar and caffeine can lead to increased heart rate, insomnia, and dependency.”

You had grinned at him, unfazed. “Sounds like a problem for future me.”

He had sighed, shaking his head. “Future you is going to be very disappointed in past you.”

Despite his concerns, he never actually told you to stop. If anything, he seemed intrigued by your preferences—often asking which flavors you liked best, what brands you preferred, and even quizzing you on why you liked soda over coffee.

It was… cute.

Spencer had always been the kind of person who paid attention, but when it came to you, it felt like he noticed everything.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, when he approached your desk with a nervous expression and something hidden behind his back, you immediately knew he was up to something.

“Spence?” You tilted your head, setting down your can of soda. “What are you doing?”

His lips twitched in that shy, almost awkward way he did when he was nervous. “I, uh… got you something.”

Before you could respond, he revealed what he had been hiding.

It wasn’t flowers. It wasn’t chocolates.

It was a bouquet. But instead of roses or lilies, it was made entirely of your favorite sodas and energy drinks, all carefully arranged and tied together with a big, bright bow.

You blinked. Stared. Opened your mouth. Closed it.

Then, finally, you burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Spencer!”

His ears went a little pink. “I read that people appreciate personalized gifts, and I know you don’t really drink coffee, so I figured this was a more… suitable alternative.”

You reached out, taking the bouquet from him with wide eyes. It was surprisingly well put together—each can securely fastened with ribbon, the entire thing looking both ridiculous and oddly adorable.

“This is—Spencer, this is amazing.” You grinned up at him. “Did you make this yourself?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to look up a tutorial. It took longer than I expected.”

You could just picture him sitting at home, carefully arranging cans of soda into a bouquet, meticulously tying them together with absolute precision. The thought made your heart swell.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, squeezing tightly. “You’re the best.”

Spencer tensed for half a second before quickly melting into the hug, his arms wrapping around you just as firmly. “I’m glad you like it.”

You pulled back slightly, grinning. “Like it? Spencer, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

His smile was small but full of warmth. “Then it was worth it.”

You looked down at your wonderful bouquet and then back at him, your heart hammering a little harder than usual.

Maybe it wasn’t just the caffeine making it race.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler #valentines day

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amethystarachnid · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to ask you for some angst with Tony (but with a very happy ending). Tony is very worried and paranoid about the reader's safety, so he decides to break up with her so she can be safe away from him, and he's a little "mean" to her, saying things like "I don't love you anymore, I don't want you in my life" just so she doesn't want to go after him, but he still loves her more than anything, they both become very miserable and sad without each other... the reader decides to move to another city, but before leaving she discovers that she's pregnant and decides not to tell him... after four months of a lot of suffering, the Avengers talk to Tony and convince him to get back with her because in fact she is safer with him and they love each other... so he decides to look for her and when they meet he is very happy to discover that he's going to be a father and asks her to marry him and of course she accepts ❤️

SAFETY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff and angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think (?)

ᯓ★ angst my beloved

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city hums with life below the skyscrapers, a symphony of horns, chatter, and footsteps. High above it all, in the shimmering confines of the Stark Tower penthouse, you sit cross-legged on a sleek couch, flicking through channels on the obscenely large flat-screen. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself alone here while Tony tinkers in his workshop, but tonight feels different. He hasn’t said much, which, for Tony Stark, is like a flashing neon sign of distress.

You sense him before you see him. The faint whir of his elevator, the telltale shuffle of bare feet across the polished floor. Then, the deep sigh—tired, weighted. You glance over your shoulder as he steps into the room, disheveled but still somehow annoyingly attractive. His dark T-shirt clings to his chest, faint streaks of grease smeared across the fabric, and his hair is a chaotic mess that screams of hours spent running his fingers through it.

"Hey," you call softly, setting the remote aside. "You okay?"

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. He crosses the room with purpose, heading straight for the bar. You watch as he pours himself a drink—a double, by the look of it—before leaning against the counter, staring at the amber liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

"I’m fine," he finally mutters, though the tension in his jaw tells a different story.

You stand and approach him, bare feet silent on the cold floor. He doesn’t flinch when you slide a hand over his, gently nudging the glass away from his lips before he takes a sip. "Liar," you whisper, your voice laced with concern.

Tony smirks faintly, though it’s devoid of his usual arrogance. "You’ve got me figured out, don’t you?"

"Something’s wrong," you press, studying him intently. "What is it?"

He exhales sharply, the sound almost a growl. His free hand rakes through his hair again as he straightens up, pacing a short, tight circle. "It’s nothing," he insists, though the way his shoulders twitch says otherwise. "Just… work stuff."

"Work stuff," you echo, crossing your arms. "You’re not a very convincing liar tonight, Stark."

He stops mid-step, turning to face you. The flicker of something raw and unguarded flashes across his face before he schools his expression. "I’m just trying to keep my head above water," he admits, voice low. "It’s been… a lot lately."

You step closer, resting a hand on his chest, right over the arc reactor that hums faintly beneath his shirt. The light pulses gently against your palm, a comforting rhythm. "You don’t have to do it alone, you know."

His hand covers yours, warm and calloused, though his grip is light, almost hesitant. "That’s the problem," he murmurs, eyes locking onto yours. "You’re not part of the equation. You’re the damn variable. The wild card I can’t control."

"Tony…" You try to pull back, but he holds your hand firmly now, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

"I can’t lose you," he says, the words spilling out like a confession he’s been holding back for far too long. "I can’t—God, do you even understand what you mean to me?"

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You’ve seen Tony Stark in many forms: the cocky genius, the billionaire philanthropist, the reckless hero. But this—this is uncharted territory. This is the man behind the mask, stripped bare and painfully human.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promise, though the words feel fragile in the face of his fear.

"You can’t guarantee that," he snaps, pulling away abruptly. He stalks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city below. His reflection in the glass is fractured, distorted by the faint glow of the arc reactor. "You have no idea how dangerous this life is. How dangerous I am."

You follow him, stopping a few feet away. "You think I don’t know the risks? Tony, I’ve seen you come back battered and bloody, half-dead. I know what’s out there."

"Then you should know why I’m scared," he retorts, turning to face you. His voice rises, trembling with anger—or maybe desperation. "Every time I suit up, every time I step into a fight, I’m thinking about you. About what happens if someone comes after you because of me."

"That’s not your call to make," you argue, stepping closer. "I’m not some fragile thing you need to lock away in a tower."

"Yes, you are!" he yells, and the sheer force of his words makes you freeze. His chest heaves, his fists clenched at his sides. "You are, and that terrifies me. You don’t understand—"

"Then make me understand," you interrupt, your voice firm. "Talk to me, Tony. Don’t shut me out."

He stares at you, his gaze flicking between your eyes, searching for… something. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost broken. "They’ll come for you. Sooner or later, someone will figure out that you’re my weakness, and they’ll use you against me. And when that happens, I won’t be able to stop it. I’ll lose you."

The raw honesty in his words slices through you like a knife. You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You won’t lose me," you say fiercely. "I’m not some damsel in distress, Tony. I can handle myself."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You don’t get it. This isn’t a fair fight. The people I deal with—they don’t play by the rules. They’ll hurt you just to hurt me. And I can’t—" His voice breaks, and he looks away, swallowing hard.

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your forehead against his chest. The arc reactor hums steadily between you, a faint beacon in the darkness. "You’re not alone in this," you whisper. "We’ll figure it out together."

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, his arms come around you, holding you as if you might vanish if he lets go. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you feel the tension in his body begin to ease, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.

"I don’t know how to protect you," he admits, his voice muffled against your hair.

"You don’t have to," you reply softly. "Just let me be here. Let me stay."

He doesn’t answer, but the way his grip tightens around you says enough. The weight of his fear lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating, but in this moment, neither of you pulls away. It’s a fragile truce, a tentative step forward in a battle neither of you fully understands.

Tony Stark is good at a lot of things. He’s good at building impossible machines, at calculating risks, at charming a room full of strangers. But he’s terrible at this—at pushing you away. And yet, for weeks now, he’s been trying his hardest.

It starts with small things. Coming home later than usual, burying himself in his work even more than normal. He stops joining you for lazy mornings on the couch, starts making excuses when you suggest dinner or a night out. At first, you tell yourself it’s just Tony being Tony—his mind has always been in overdrive, and sometimes, he simply gets caught up in the chaos of it all.

But then, the distance grows. The way he looks at you shifts. There’s a coldness in his gaze that wasn’t there before, an edge to his words when he bothers to speak at all. He brushes off your touches, sidesteps your attempts to reach him, until finally, the man who once held you as if you were his lifeline feels like a stranger.

You try to ignore it. You tell yourself he’s just stressed, that it’ll pass, but deep down, a sinking feeling gnaws at you. Something is wrong. And tonight, you’re about to find out what.

He’s waiting for you in the living room when you come home, standing by the windows with a glass of scotch in his hand. The city lights cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look older, more worn. The sight sends a pang through your chest, but you push it down, determined to break through whatever wall he’s built between you.

"Tony," you say softly, setting your bag down on the counter. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do." His voice is clipped, almost flat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns to face you, and for a moment, you swear there’s something in his eyes—something raw and painful—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. "What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant, and I—"

"Stop." The word cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and final. He sets the glass down on the counter with a deliberate slowness, then looks at you with an expression so cold it makes your blood run cold. "Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

"Harder than what needs to be?" you ask, your voice trembling. "Tony, what are you talking about?"

He exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his tone is laced with a cruel detachment that feels so foreign coming from him. "This. Us. It’s over."

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You stare at him, waiting for the punchline, for the smirk that says he’s just being an asshole because that’s what Tony Stark does when he’s uncomfortable. But it doesn’t come.

"You’re joking," you say weakly.

"I’m not."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the air thick and suffocating. "Tony, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t just—"

"I can, and I am," he interrupts, his voice hard. He steps closer, towering over you, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. "I don’t love you anymore, Y/N. I don’t want you in my life."

The words are like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you try to process what he’s saying. "You don’t mean that," you whisper. "You can’t mean that."

"I do." His tone is icy, emotionless. "I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t do this anymore. I need you to leave."

Leave. The word echoes in your mind, hollow and final. Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, and you reach out to steady yourself against the counter. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice breaking. "What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he snaps. "That’s the problem. This… whatever this is, it’s not working. It’s not what I want."

The tears spill over now, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "You’re lying," you say, your voice trembling. "I know you, Tony. I know when you’re lying."

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough to make your chest ache. He looks away, his jaw clenching as he steps back. "You don’t know anything," he mutters. "You don’t know what’s best for you, for either of us."

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!" you shout, the anger bubbling up now, cutting through the haze of pain. "If you’re scared, if you’re pushing me away because of your own issues, then—"

"I’m not scared," he growls, his eyes snapping back to yours. "I’m done. That’s it. I’m done, Y/N."

The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you stumble back, clutching your chest as if you can physically hold yourself together. "You don’t mean that," you whisper again, your voice breaking. "You love me. I know you do."

"Not anymore," he says, the words landing like a death knell.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. You stare at him, searching for any sign of the man you love, the man who once looked at you like you hung the moon. But all you see is a mask—a cold, unfeeling facade that makes you want to scream.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "You want me to leave? I’ll leave."

You grab your bag and head for the door, your vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look back.

Two days later, you send someone else to collect your things.

The apartment feels strange without you. It’s quiet, too quiet, and the absence of your laughter, your scent, your presence is like a black hole, sucking the life out of the space. Tony tries to ignore it. He buries himself in his work, drowns himself in scotch, anything to keep from thinking about you.

But when your friend arrives to pick up your things, it hits him like a punch to the gut. The sight of your clothes, your books, your little trinkets being packed into boxes is unbearable, and he has to leave the room, retreating to the workshop like a coward.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this way, he tells himself. He’s the one who ended it. He’s the one who pushed you away. But the truth is, he’s been lying to himself just as much as he lied to you.

He loves you. He’ll always love you.

But you’re safer without him.

The days without Tony bleed into weeks, and the pain doesn’t lessen; it only festers. The apartment you moved back to—the one you never sold—is suffocatingly quiet, devoid of life. It’s far too small compared to the penthouse at Stark Tower, where everything was expansive, open, and filled with his presence. Here, it’s just you and the echoes of what you had.

You’ve tried to move on. Really, you have. But it’s impossible. Every little thing reminds you of him. The way the morning sun filters through your blinds reminds you of how he used to grumble about the light waking him up. The sound of a passing car with a bad muffler on the street outside makes you think of his ridiculous cars, the way he used to rev the engine just to tease you. Even your favorite takeout spot feels like a betrayal; you can still hear his voice arguing with you over who got the last bite.

But you’re stubborn. You refuse to let yourself break, not completely. You threw yourself into work, taking every shift and every project you could get your hands on, hoping exhaustion would drown out the heartbreak. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.

And then there’s him.

Tony is just as miserable, though he hides it better—or at least he tries to. The penthouse is eerily empty without you. The space that once felt like home now feels like a mausoleum. He doesn’t sleep in the bed anymore; it’s too cold, too hollow without you beside him. Instead, he crashes in the workshop or on the couch, surrounded by empty scotch glasses and the flickering blue glow of the arc reactor.

He hasn’t told anyone the truth. Not Rhodey, not Pepper, not anyone. They ask, of course. They know something’s wrong. He deflects with sarcasm, brushes off their concern, but deep down, he’s barely holding on. He threw away the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knows it. But he can’t take it back. He won’t risk your life, no matter how much it destroys him.

The nights are the worst. That’s when the memories come, unbidden and relentless. He sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels the phantom weight of your hand in his. It’s torture, but he doesn’t stop it. It’s the only way he can feel close to you now.

Weeks turn into months, and the pain doesn’t fade—it deepens, sharpens, becomes a constant ache in both of your chests. You wonder if it will ever go away.

Then, one morning, everything changes.

You’ve been feeling off for days. At first, you chalk it up to stress and exhaustion. You’ve been working too much, not eating properly, and the emotional strain of the breakup has taken a toll on your body. But when the nausea hits hard enough to send you running to the bathroom for the third time that week, you know something’s wrong.

You take the test, your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold it. The seconds feel like hours as you wait, pacing the tiny bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Two lines.

The world tilts beneath you.

You sink to the floor, the test clutched in your trembling hands. You’re pregnant. With Tony’s child.

The realization crashes over you in waves. A mix of fear, shock, and something else—something softer, more fragile—swirls in your chest. You press a hand to your stomach, the weight of it sinking in. There’s a life inside you. A piece of him.

Your first instinct is to call him, to tell him, to share this life-changing news with the man you once loved. But the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Tony doesn’t want you in his life. He made that painfully clear. And you can’t stomach the idea of facing him again, of reopening that wound.

You make your decision then and there. You won’t tell him.

It’s not an easy choice. In fact, it feels impossible. But you tell yourself it’s for the best. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you. You can’t drag him back into your life just because of this. You’ll do it on your own. You have to.

The next few weeks are a blur of emotions. You throw yourself into preparing for the baby, researching everything you can, but the reality of it all is overwhelming. You’re going to be a single mom. You’re going to have to juggle work, bills, and raising a child. The weight of it all feels crushing, but you refuse to give up.

You tell yourself you’re strong. That you can do this. That you don’t need him.

But late at night, when the world is quiet and the ache in your chest is too much to bear, you lie in bed and cry. You cry for the life you thought you’d have, for the love you lost, and for the child who will grow up without their father.

Tony doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop thinking about you. He’s tried to bury himself in work, in distractions, but nothing works. You haunt him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face. Every time he takes a breath, it feels like his chest is being crushed.

He’s barely functioning, and everyone around him knows it. Rhodey corners him one day, demanding answers, but Tony brushes him off with a half-hearted excuse about being busy. Pepper isn’t fooled either. She keeps pushing, trying to get him to talk, but he shuts her out.

Because what can he say? That he’s dying inside? That he regrets every word he said to you but doesn’t have the guts to fix it? That he’s terrified of what would happen if he did?

So he suffers in silence, throwing himself deeper into his work, even as the emptiness inside him grows.

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, one thought keeps clawing its way to the surface: he misses you. Desperately.

You decide to leave the city. Staying here is too painful, too suffocating. Everywhere you go, there’s a reminder of him—of the life you had together. You can’t keep living like this. You need a fresh start, for yourself and for the baby.

It’s not an easy decision. Moving means uprooting your entire life, starting over from scratch. But you know it’s the right thing to do.

You find a small apartment in another city, far enough away that the ghosts of your past can’t follow you. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours. You spend your days packing up your things, making plans, and trying not to think about how much you’ll miss the city you once called home.

But no matter how hard you try, there’s one thing you can’t stop thinking about: Tony.

You wonder if he’s moved on. If he’s happy. If he even thinks about you anymore.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s better this way. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how far you go, a part of you will always love him.

Four months pass, and you’ve built a new routine in your new city. It’s not easy, but you’ve always been resilient. Your days are full, juggling long hours at work, studying courses online to make a better future for your child, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. Your belly is round now, unmistakably carrying a life within it. You catch people staring sometimes—coworkers, strangers on the street—but you don’t care. Every time you feel the baby kick, it reminds you why you’re doing all of this.

You haven’t told anyone much about the father. Your coworkers and neighbors assume you’re single, and you’ve never bothered to correct them. It’s easier this way. The pain of thinking about Tony, of what could have been, is still too fresh.

The apartment is small but cozy, and you’ve started turning one corner of the bedroom into a nursery. There’s a secondhand crib you found online, freshly painted in soft cream. Baby clothes are folded neatly in a small set of drawers, and a mobile hangs from the ceiling, its delicate stars swaying gently whenever you walk past.

But it’s hard. So hard.

There are nights when exhaustion grips you so tightly you can barely breathe. Nights when you wonder how you’ll manage everything on your own. And nights when your heart aches for Tony so fiercely you have to press a hand to your chest to calm the storm within you.

Still, you don’t let yourself dwell. You keep going, for your baby.

Meanwhile, Tony is unraveling.

The cracks have become impossible to hide, even from himself. He’s snapping at everyone—at Pepper, at Rhodey, at anyone who tries to get close. He spends most nights in the workshop, working on projects he doesn’t care about, just to keep his hands busy. But no matter how much he distracts himself, the void inside him only grows.

The team notices, of course. They’ve been noticing for months. And finally, they confront him.

It starts with Pepper.

“Tony, this has gone on long enough,” she says one evening, her arms crossed as she stands in the doorway of the workshop.

“I’m fine, Pep,” he mutters without looking up from the piece of tech he’s tinkering with.

“No, you’re not. And we both know why.”

He freezes, his hands stilling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough,” she snaps. “Because this isn’t just about you anymore. You think we don’t see what’s happening? You’re falling apart, Tony. And the only person who can fix this is you.”

He doesn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wants to admit.

The next day, Rhodey corners him during a training session.

“Stark, we need to talk.”

“Unless it’s about the mission, I’m not interested,” Tony replies, dodging Rhodey’s gaze.

“Bullshit,” Rhodey says bluntly. “You’re miserable. And we both know why. So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep running from her forever?”

Tony clenches his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. “She’s safer without me,” he mutters.

“Safer? Or are you just too scared to fix what you broke?”

The words sting, but Tony doesn’t argue. He can’t.

The final push comes from Steve, of all people.

“You know she loves you,” Steve says one evening as they sit in the common room, the quiet weight of his voice cutting through Tony’s defenses.

“She’s better off without me,” Tony mutters, but his voice lacks conviction.

“She’s not better off if she’s as miserable as you are,” Steve replies. “You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting her—and yourself.”

The words linger long after Steve leaves, echoing in Tony’s mind until he can’t ignore them anymore.

By the end of the week, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to find you.

It takes him some time to track you down. You were smart, cutting ties and keeping your location a secret. But Tony Stark is nothing if not resourceful. When he finally gets a lead, he wastes no time.

He flies to your city on a private jet, his heart pounding the entire way. He’s rehearsed a hundred different things to say, but none of them feel right. All he knows is that he needs to see you, to fix what he broke, even if you slam the door in his face.

When he finds your address, he barely recognizes the street. It’s a far cry from the luxury of Stark Tower, and the thought of you living here makes his chest tighten. He doesn’t knock right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, gathering his courage.

Finally, he raises a hand and knocks.

When you open the door, the world seems to tilt beneath him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things—anger, hurt, indifference—but he’s not prepared for this.

You’re standing there in a simple dress, your belly round and unmistakable. His heart stops, and for a moment, he can’t breathe.

“Tony,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stares at you, his mind racing. Your belly… it can’t be.

But then, his mind jumps to the worst conclusion. You’ve moved on. Of course, you have. It’s been months. You’ve found someone else, someone who could give you what he couldn’t.

His stomach twists painfully.

“I… I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice hollow.

You blink, confused. “Didn’t know what?”

“That you were… that you… had someone else,” he says, his gaze dropping to your belly.

Realization dawns on you, and your heart sinks. He thinks the baby isn’t his.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Tony runs a hand through his hair, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Look, I didn’t come here to make things harder for you,” he says, his voice strained. “I just… I needed to see you. To tell you I was an idiot. That I was wrong. But it’s clear you’ve moved on, so I’ll go.”

He turns to leave, but your voice stops him.

“Tony, wait.”

He freezes, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around.

“The baby…” You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “The baby is yours.”

He turns slowly, his eyes wide, his face pale. “What?”

You press a hand to your belly, tears welling in your eyes. “I found out a few weeks after… after you ended things. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to see you again. But this baby is yours, Tony.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, he takes a step closer, his gaze flicking between your face and your belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Because you made it clear you didn’t want me,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now. “You told me you didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t want to go through that again.”

His face crumples, and he sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling. “I lied,” he says, his voice raw. “I lied to protect you. Because I love you so much it scares the hell out of me. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be safer without me.”

You stare at him, your heart breaking all over again.

“I was wrong,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I was so wrong, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please.”

You don’t know what to say. The pain, the anger, the love—it’s all too much.

But when he reaches out, his hand trembling as he rests it gently on your belly, you feel something shift.

The walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack, just a little.

Tony's hand trembles as it rests gently on your belly, his touch hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. You should—you’ve been carrying months of pain and anger, all because of him. But standing here now, with his eyes full of something raw and broken, you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Say something,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Please, Y/N.”

You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts. There’s so much you want to say—so much hurt, confusion, and love tangled up in your chest that you don’t know where to begin.

“You broke me, Tony,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “You told me you didn’t love me. That you didn’t want me in your life. And I believed you. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? How much it hurt to hear those words from the person I thought would never hurt me?”

His face crumples, and he looks away, guilt written in every line of his body. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmurs. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I—God, I was so scared. Scared that being with me would put you in danger. That one day, I’d lose you because of what I do—because of who I am. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe.”

“You didn’t protect me,” you say, your voice growing stronger. “You destroyed me. And you didn’t even give me the chance to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or not. You took that choice away from me.”

He winces, his head hanging low. “I know. I know I screwed up, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day without you has been hell. I thought I was keeping you safe, but all I did was push away the only person I’ve ever loved.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from the man who broke your heart months ago. His eyes are tired, his shoulders slumped, as if he’s been carrying the world on his back.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not for a second. And if I could take it all back, I would. But I can’t. All I can do now is tell you the truth and hope it’s not too late.”

You close your eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’ve missed him so much, even when you didn’t want to admit it. And deep down, you know you never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you say finally, your voice breaking.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever you need, Y/N. Just… don’t shut me out. Not now. Not when we have a chance to fix this.”

You look down at his hand on your belly, at the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. There’s so much at stake now—not just for you, but for the baby too. And despite everything, a part of you wants to believe him.

“You hurt me, Tony,” you say quietly, your voice laced with both anger and vulnerability. “But I can’t keep doing this alone. I can’t raise this baby by myself. And I don’t want to.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. “You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “I’ll be there for you—every step of the way. I promise.”

You take a shaky breath, your emotions swirling inside you. “If I come back, it’s not going to be easy. We can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Whatever you need, Y/N, I’ll do it. Just… come home. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of both of you.”

The word “home” catches in your chest, and for the first time in months, the idea doesn’t feel so far away.

When you finally agree to go back with him, Tony looks like he might cry. He helps you pack up the few belongings you’ve gathered in your time away, his movements careful, as if he’s afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You can see how hard he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the pain of the past, it’s a start.

The drive back to Stark Tower is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He keeps glancing over at you, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness, as if he still can’t believe you’re here.

When you arrive, the elevator ride up to the penthouse feels surreal. You step into the space that used to feel like home, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the memories.

“I know it’s a lot,” Tony says, his voice soft as he watches you. “But I want you to feel comfortable here again. We can make changes—whatever you want.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into making the penthouse feel more like a home for the three of you. He clears out one of the spare bedrooms and starts turning it into a nursery, asking for your input on everything.

“What color do you want for the walls?” he asks one evening, holding up paint swatches.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to paint it yourself?”

He grins, a spark of his old charm returning. “I may be a genius billionaire, but I’m not above rolling up my sleeves for my kid.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

He keeps surprising you, showing up to doctor’s appointments, researching baby gear, and even cooking dinner when you’re too tired to move. It’s clear he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the hurt, it does start to rebuild something fragile and new between you.

One night, as you’re sitting on the couch together, your hand resting on your belly, you feel the baby kick.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Was that…?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Here,” you say, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly.

His eyes soften as he feels the movement beneath his palm. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s your dad. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The sight of him, so vulnerable and full of love, makes your heart ache in the best way.

For the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe you can build a future together.

The moment you step into the new doctor’s office, you can tell the change was worth it—though you’d never admit that to Tony. The place is immaculate, modern, and soothing, with soft music playing in the background and staff who seem genuinely happy to help. You still feel a little guilty about leaving your old doctor behind, but when you see Tony’s proud smile as he hands over your file, you know he just wants the best for you and the baby.

“This is where you’re supposed to be,” Tony says as you sit in the plush waiting room. He’s bouncing one knee nervously, glancing over at you every few seconds as if to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” you tease, rubbing your belly. “But it’s… nice.”

“Nice? Please. It’s state-of-the-art.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “The OB here is one of the best in the country. I made a few calls. Okay, a lot of calls.”

You smirk, resting a hand on his knee to calm his fidgeting. “Thank you, Tony.”

His expression softens, his hand covering yours. “Anything for you. For both of you.”

The new doctor, a calm and professional woman named Dr. Latham, immediately puts you at ease. She reviews your chart thoroughly and listens to all your concerns without rushing you, which feels like a luxury after your previous appointments. She even arranges for an in-depth ultrasound during your visit, mentioning that you’re far enough along to determine the baby’s gender if you’d like.

Tony practically lights up at the suggestion. “Oh, we’d like,” he says enthusiastically, glancing at you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly just as curious as he is.

The ultrasound room is dimly lit, with a large screen positioned to give you a clear view. As the technician applies the cool gel to your belly and begins the scan, Tony grips your hand tightly.

“There’s the baby,” the technician says with a smile, pointing to the image on the screen.

You and Tony both lean forward, mesmerized by the sight of your little one moving around.

“Everything looks great,” the technician continues. “And… if you’re ready, I can tell you the gender.”

Tony’s fingers tighten around yours, and you can feel the tension in the air. “We’re ready,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The technician smiles and turns to look at you both. “It’s a boy.”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Tony, whose face is a mixture of awe and joy.

“A boy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re having a boy.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the screen. “Liam,” you whisper, the name you’d been toying with finally feeling real.

Tony leans over and kisses your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “He’s going to be perfect,” he says softly.

The news of Liam’s gender spreads quickly, thanks to Tony’s inability to keep anything a secret. Within hours, the Avengers are calling and texting, all of them eager to congratulate you and ask about baby names.

“Are you sure you don’t want a gender reveal party?” Tony asks a few days later, holding up a brochure for some extravagant event planner he’s clearly already been in touch with.

You give him a look. “Tony, I don’t need fireworks and a light show to announce we’re having a boy.”

“But think of the drone possibilities,” he says with a grin.

You shake your head, laughing. “How about we just tell people? Like normal humans?”

“Boring,” he mutters, but he lets it go, content to simply bask in the excitement of preparing for Liam’s arrival.

As the weeks pass and your belly grows, you start noticing the changes in your body more acutely. You’ve always been confident, but pregnancy has brought a whole new set of challenges. Your back aches constantly, your feet swell, and your once-favorite outfits no longer fit.

One evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, studying your reflection. Your belly is round and prominent now, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I look like a balloon,” you mutter under your breath, running a hand over your bump.

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice startles you, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but he’s already walking toward you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone serious. “You don’t look like a balloon. You look… incredible. You’re growing our son. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t feel like myself anymore.”

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face him. “You’re still you. You’re strong, beautiful, and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe me…”

He trails off, reaching into his pocket.

“Tony, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s kneeling in front of you, holding a small velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the one thing I know I got right is loving you. You’ve given me so much—your trust, your love, and now, our son. I don’t want to waste another second without making this official.”

He opens the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, the diamonds catching the light.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Tears fill your eyes, and for a moment, you can’t speak. But then you nod, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Tony grins, sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a gentle hug, careful of your belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, resting your head against his chest.

As he holds you close, you can’t help but think about how far you’ve come—from heartbreak and doubt to this moment of pure joy. And as Liam kicks gently in your belly, it feels like a promise of all the good things yet to come.

I'm so sorry if the ending sucks :(

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yawchi · 3 days ago

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BACK SUPPORT — M.O.

After hours at Onigiri Miya are always rather quiet.

It’s when all the employees clock out one by one, collect their things and finish up their duties before saying bye to the boss and heading out. And it’s when you always stop by to meet your boyfriend whenever you happen to be in the area during closing time.

(Which, granted, you find an excuse to be pretty frequently. But that’s not the point here).

The bell of the front door jingles as you let yourself in, meeting the last straggler of your boyfriend’s establishment just on their way out. He’s young, working to pay his way through college, Osamu told you. He has kind eyes and a sweet smile, a good kid.

“Hi,” he nods, moves to hold the door open as you finish walking through, points a thumb behind him. “Boss is in the back restocking, he wouldn’t let me stay to help.”

“Figures,” you laugh, shaking your head to yourself. “He’s a bit stubborn.”

And the kid chuckles like he doesn’t want to agree because it’s his boss, but the knowing smile speaks volumes anyways. He gives a quick bow of his head, mutters a polite goodnight, then the bell’s jingling again and you’re left alone in the front of your boyfriend’s restaurant.

You toss your keys onto the counter and push past the little waist high door with your hip to venture to the back of the restaurant. It’s pretty clean, save for where Osamu seems to have flung his hat off by the sink and there’s a familiar black apron pooled in the floor that looks to have fallen off its hook. You collect them both and smile to yourself as you clean up after him.

That’s when you hear it, as you swing by his office to put up the overlay part of his uniform—the slight muffled grunts coming from the storage room. Right, he’s restocking. Lucky you.

And if you were anyone else, you might be annoyed. Because the nights where Osamu stays behind by himself to restock can get long—like right now, with the time pushing midnight when he’s normally snuggled up in your bed by eleven—but, you must argue, it does have its perks. Like him bringing home extra leftovers from the day to make it up to you for being late. Or him giving you sweet sleepy kisses as he plops himself on top of you as soon as he walks in.

Or, and this is arguably your favorite one, you getting to witness the sight of him like this.

Your teeth dig into the corner of your lip as you lean against the doorframe of the storage room, the grunts that lead you to him punching through the air again as you watch the muscles of Osamu’s back flex and release as he tosses a bag of rice under one of the shelves. His work shirt hugs him so nicely, tight across the broad expanse of his shoulders and snug around the definition of his arms. It gets a little baggy past the expanse of his chest, a little looser towards his waist, but it bunches up due to the back brace he has strapped on.

You remember when he got it, albeit begrudgingly as he came home one day shy to show you what he picked up on his run to the store. The faint flush to his cheeks as he mumbled about how he can’t move as easily as he used to, that all those years of volleyball aren’t doing him any good now. You’d just kissed his cheek, told him it wasn’t even a big deal, anything that would keep him from hurting himself.

And as you eye the way the brace squeezes around his waist, does well to accentuate the slight cinch there that’s gotten just a bit wider over the years but is still very nice, you can’t even attempt to fight off the slight swirl in your gut.

Oh yes, lucky you indeed.

“Woo,” you whistle as he straightens up to swipe his forehead with the back of his hand, chewing your cheek as he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Oh, baby.” And he’s breathless, and it shouldn’t sound so fucking attractive, as he turns to walk towards you. He places his hands on your waist, drops his head for a kiss and hums against your lips. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. Ya get cranky past eleven.”

“I get even crankier when my boyfriend isn’t in bed with me,” you retort, but there’s no malice in the confinement of the storage room, no tilt to your words. You kiss him again. “But getting to walk in on you like this isn’t so bad.”

Osamu laughs into your mouth, pulling back slightly when you try to loop your arms around his neck. He catches your wrist, kisses your palm.

“Ah, don’t get too close. I’m all sweaty,” he offers up with an apologetic grin, then tips his head with a scrunch of his nose when you roll your eyes. “I just have a few more bags to move, then we can get ya home and in bed.”

“Yeah,” you hum, but you don’t pull away. Instead you trail your hand down his chest, try to bite back your smirk at the way your boyfriend shivers a bit, until your fingertips reach the edge of the tight brace wrapped around his waist. “Guess I’ll just sit back and enjoy the view, hm?”

You give the brace a tug, do your best to swallow the giggle that threatens to slip at Osamu’s over exaggerated groan. His fingers give your waist a squeeze, a signature Miya pout being thrown in your direction.

“Yer evil,” he sulks, stares at you like he’s fighting some terrible inner battle, then grumbles under his breath as he surges forward to kiss you again. “Ya said you won’t pay attention to it.”

“No I said I wouldn’t make fun,” you correct, blow out a light laugh as Osamu pulls you flush against him while peppering kisses down your throat. “Not paying attention to it would be a crime when it makes you look so good.”

His lips pause on your throat. You swear you can feel the flush burning from his cheeks straight into your neck. You thread your fingers into the damp buzz of his undercut, run your nails over his scalp.

“It’s for back support,” he mumbles, low and soft. And maybe you are evil, truly, because the retort is quick from your lips.

“I could use some back support.”

Osamu stops breathing, you press into him a bit more, then suddenly you’re being moved over and pushed back onto the checklist desk by the wall. You can’t help the fit of giggles you fall into as your boyfriend nips at your neck, his fingers squeezing your sides in a mixture to tickle and also to drag you closer all while he berates you.

“Oh you’re gonna need back support by the time I get done with ya,” he chuckles, moves up to kiss you even as his lips curl in a grin and soil the action. He grabs one of your thighs, hooks your leg around his waist playfully. “So mean, comin’ in and distracting me when I’m trying to get work done. I’m busy, yanno. And you just wanna tease and—“

“Sir? Sorry, I think I left my apartment keys by the—“

Both yours and Osamu’s eyes widen, heads snapping to the doorway of the storage room. There stands the sweet, sweet boy from earlier, face going from pale to red to about seven different emotions all at once as he takes in the scene. Then he slaps a hand over his eyes almost comically, turns on his heel to retreat, shouting out sorry’s every step of the way as you and your boyfriend stare after him appalled.

Osamu scrambles after him, you scurry off the desk, and both of you internally curse that damn back brace and the power it holds over your heads.

likes & reblogs appreciated. old repost.

#yawchi writings #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader

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iamsebastiansstan · 2 days ago

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diary of a fuckdrunk little love 🖤

drabble - One day, in a hundred year’s time, they’ll find me in the earth and spot his fingerprints on my bones, his teeth marks along my jaw, the sliver of his soul wrapped around every single cartilage that makes up my spine, around the very structure that has held me upright my whole entire life, they’ll ask if that is what it was or another force entirely, and they wouldn’t be wrong to question it.

this is very unlike my usual work which is why I won't format it as such, I won't use my usual taglist or anything like that because this was 10000% self indulgent and 1000000% driven by delusion. warnings for heavy BDSM dynamic and empty poeticism. very rushed and even more nonsensical, it is almost 3 am, after all. dedicated to those who listen to me empty my head about this obsession on a daily basis, @hoffmansgirl & @urlitttlevenicebitch 🖤

My body isn’t mine, not really, not when a man like him exists in this world, not when the sight of his hooded eyes makes my heart flutter, just a look at his sinful lips makes my stomach clench, the mere thought of that body makes me want to claw at my throat until it’s raw and open, the way it is when I’m on my knees in front of him. Worship doesn’t even begin to describe it, not when every beat of my heart is dedicated to him, not when every cell in my body calls out to him. With shaking hands I build a shrine from the broken pieces of my soul, I cement it onto my willing flesh and offer it to him, beaten and bruised, hurt me for I am yours to hurt, love me for I am yours to love, fuck me for I am yours to ruin for every man that ever dares to lay his eyes upon me.

I don’t let him fuck me, I beg for it, pray for it every night, sigh a deep breath of relief when I feel his strong hands touch me, possessively because of course he is, unnecessarily so because who else could I possibly want but you, my sweet? He is rough when he feels like it, when he needs it, fucks into me with reckless abandon, snarls meanly when I cry because he doesn’t care if it hurts, I was made to take the pain as long as he’s the one delivering it, I bear it like I bear the cross of loving him until my heart fails me. No color looks as good on me as the red of his handprints, no sound sweeter than his groans as he carves a space in my body that belongs to him only, his hard cock pushing my organs into place, so he’ll fit whenever he wants to, for the rest of time. He looks so good when he takes and takes and takes, takes from my pliant body as I give and give and give until I can’t give no more, until my tears run dry, and my voice becomes hoarse and my grip on his godlike body turns into a gentle hold of desperation. You’re mine to use, he says, mine to abuse if I want to, all you do and all you are is for me, for me only, I fuck you and you thank me, I make you cry and you thank me, I pull orgasm after orgasm from your weeping cunt and you worship me for what I turn you into.

And what he turns me into is a brainless girl drooling after the man of all men, chasing his praise and crawling after the strength of his presence, ready to serve at all times.

He often comes home tired and there I am, leading him into a sitting position so I can crawl between his strong legs, nuzzle at his crotch while he pets me like his little kitten, like his well-trained little lapdog, like an animal he had to break in before its rightful use. The smell of him soothes me- my favorite cologne of his, the faint smell of cigarette smoke, the manly musk that’s always an undertone- and with shaking hands I pull his zipper down, look at the man of my dreams as I free his cock, stare into his loving gaze as I hungrily lower my mouth onto him. It’s the closest thing to God I’ve ever known, being on my knees for him, tasting him so unabashedly. His groan comes deep from within his chest as I lick his cock, savor every taste of it like a starved woman, breathe him in as not to forget this moment for the rest of my life. Taking it all is a difficult task, burns in the back of my throat and behind my nose, but the clench of his jaw and the heat in his eyes could bring me to bear full bodied pain if it meant I could get his attention on me like that forever, and so I spit and gag and choke and moan and let him push me down until his full balls are hitting my chin, until my eyes roll so far back into my head I fear missing even a second of his visible ecstasy. The pull of his hand is a welcome burn, the push of his strength a welcome motivator, his cum down my throat a goal I chase with unhuman vigor. When I do earn it, feel the taste of it hit my tongue, the heat of it slip down my throat and the sensation of it settling deep in my stomach, it’s like my brain short circuits and I have to resist the urge to pant like a bitch in heat, stare up at him wide-eyed as if to ask did I do good, tell me I did good, please tell me how good I did, please give it to me again, please give it to me more, please please please-

When he slides into me, it feels like he touches parts of me that nobody has ever been to before.

Sometimes it’s relentless, like when he makes me ride him, veiny hands on my full hips as he heaves my body up and down, stares up at me with reverence as I cry silent tears because for sound, I’d need air, and for air to fill my lungs, his cock would have to not be punching into them, and when he fucks me like that, it feels like that is simply not possible. He loves me enough not to care when I beg him to go easy, because he knows me better than I know myself, and the day my cunt is satisfied with easy is the day hell freezes over. He keeps me naked always, says it’s his favorite way of me being, undresses when he can, when we’re in our bed and time doesn’t exist in our realm of depravity and his only goal is to make me cum until I am close to passing out, by which point he would- after many conversations and many instances of me begging begging begging for it- just continue if he felt like it, take what’s his no matter the state I am in. I am vessel for his pleasure and he is to take what is his, who am I to deny him? When it needs to be quick and dirty he unzips his fly and has me bounce on his cock just like that, balls out for my clit to rub against with every move, adorns my ass with gorgeous marks as he goads me to go faster, that’s my girl, you love this shit don’t you, don’t slow down now, fuckin’ move, work for it, work that cunt, you’re gonna make me cum baby, fuck yeah, you’re gonna make me-

Sometimes it’s sweet, face to face and chest to chest, him buried so deep in me that I don’t know where he starts and where I end, I only know that he will be my end, a pleasurable demise on the most addictive cock I ever had the fucking honor of experiencing. He kisses me, then, coaxes my tongue out of my mouth so he can lick at it, suck on it, no lips involved when he wants it nasty like that, slick and spit filled. When he kisses my lips, he bites at them, makes them bleed and soothes them lovingly, a reminder to carry with me for days to come. I open my mouth wide and he spits into it, makes me keep it in, sometimes, just because he can, makes me show it to him before he allows me to swallow it, and he has to allow it, I do not operate without his permission. Strong forearms on either side of my dizzy head, my angelic face in his capable hands, his weight on top of my willing body, suffocating me from all sides, from the inside, just the way I need, sweet talking me until I go dumb. My gorgeous girl, all for me, cry so prettily, can you feel me baby?, feel how deep I am?, fuck my cock is splitting you fucking open, ‘m gonna make you cum again and again, pump you full with my seed while I make love to you, gonna breed you so you’re full with my babies, so they know they were made from love as Daddy fucked Mommy until she cried for mercy on his cock.

Sometimes, it’s a devilish mix of pain and pleasure in a way only he can deliver, drilling into me with my legs on his muscular shoulders, holding me and making me take it, just a fucking fleshlight, stop fuckin’ crying, what the fuck you crying for, imma give you something to really cry about, my own body not giving me a choice but to take it, my heart bursting from how well he’s making use of me. When it’s from behind, face down ass up for him to play with as he pleases, if he pleases, I feel like all my three holes are stuffed even if it’s just one of them, the heady slapping of skin against skin as he takes me in the most primal, animalistic way. It’s not like he’s ever been shy with it, from the get-go his hand has found its place in my hair, pulling my head back when he wants to lean over and spit on my face, rub it in nice and rough and blush my cheeks with skilled palms, from the get-go he’s known how to grab at my ass and spread it so it’ll feel like he’s about to split me in half, just to watch me squirm and cry, only to let him anyways. Always, always let him anyways. Thaaaat’s right, he’d husk, then, take it, my dirty fucking girl, I’ll ruin these holes baby, you’re all mine, you wan’ it so bad, desperate little slut, let me hear you, let me hear you.

Sometimes I’m dumb for it, laying on his chest while keeping his cock warm in me, keeping it in so his cum would stay in me, not ready to let go of it yet. I mouth at his chest, lick the sheen of sweat off his pecs and revel in the salty taste on my hungry, bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until my lungs are filled with his scent. Gentle bites along his hardened muscles, sucking bruises into his skin because he is mine as much as I am his, what is a God without his most devout believer, whining when I feel him harden again within the clutch of my heat. It rarely happens that he doesn’t fuck me through at least one other toe-curling orgasm, doesn’t position me how he needs me to give it to me good, whether it be on my back with my hands behind my knees so he can gut-punch me with the sensitive tip of his cock or on our sides with my leg at an angle so he can make me feel the slow, wet drag of his thickness, stretching me out, sure to leave a gape when he’s done wrecking me for his amusement.

Sometimes, he cums inside of me and tells me about how he wants to pump me full of his babies, throws my legs behind my head, so it can’t leak out, so it’ll take. What he also likes is to pull out, cover my aching clit in his hot seed, fuck it with his hand until I scream myself mute, or decorate my spasming stomach with tasty white ribbons, or renaissance paint my face to compete with Michaelangelo’s accomplishments while I keep my tongue stuck out, eyes open to witness his pantie-dropping orgasm face and gladly risk a painful shot in the eye for it, eagerly licking his seed off his fingers when he feeds me so generously. And feed me he does, always, whether it be from what he wipes off my body, or what he pulls out when he sticks his fingers into my full pussy, makes me push it out or watches it drizzle out slowly when he spreads me wide, drives his hand through it and makes me lick it off like his eager little puppy, grateful for a treat.

Sometimes, he breeds me before he buries his gorgeous face between my trembling thighs, eats my pussy until I give up another shaking orgasm, sucks his cum out of my used hole and spits it straight onto my awaiting tongue, makes me keep it while using my eyes to beg him to let me swallow, that cocky asshole enjoying my neediness for him. That’s one of my favorites, proves to me that there are no bounds for the nastiness he’ll put me through just to prove to me the one thing I’ve been craving to know: that I really was made for his pleasure, that I really do exist to be his plaything, and that he loves every little fiber of my dirty little being.

One day, in a hundred year’s time, they’ll find me in the earth and spot his fingerprints on my bones, his teeth marks along my jaw, the sliver of his soul wrapped around every single cartilage that makes up my spine, around the very structure that has held me upright my whole entire life, they’ll ask if that is what it was or another force entirely, and they wouldn’t be wrong to question it.

My body isn’t mine, not really, not when he reminds me of it so often by claiming me, owning me, using me, loving me until all I am is his cockdrunk little love.

#mine #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez smut #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez imagine #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew

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andy-15-07 · 3 days ago

Note

hiii, hope you’re doing well! i was wondering if you could write something where y/n is an actress and meets aaron at some awards or maybe the met gala? i’d appreciate it soo much, i love your writing! thankss

Champagne & Fate

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

word count: 1031 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

The cacophony of the Met Gala pressed in on y/n, a rising starlet still navigating the treacherous waters of Hollywood’s elite. Her emerald green gown, a daring choice, felt both like armor and a spotlight. She’d just finished a slightly awkward interview about her latest indie film, her nerves making her responses sound stilted. Sighing internally, she snagged a glass of champagne, hoping to blend into the glittering backdrop. That's when disaster struck. A sudden jostle from a passing waiter sent her bubbly cascading down the front of someone’s impeccably tailored tuxedo.

“Oh my god, I am so incredibly sorry!” y/n gasped, mortified. She dabbed uselessly at the spreading stain with a napkin. “I’m such a klutz.”

The man turned, and y/n’s breath hitched. It was Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Up close, he was even more striking than in photographs. His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a disarming gesture that eased some of her panic.

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, his voice surprisingly warm. “Champagne showers are practically a Met Gala tradition. Consider yourself initiated.”

“Still,” y/n stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. “I’m y/n.”

“Aaron,” he replied, extending a hand. His grip was firm and warm. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

They stood there for a moment, the spilled champagne forming a small puddle at their feet. y/n, still reeling from the embarrassment (and the proximity to him), blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I loved ‘Kick-Ass’!”

Aaron laughed. “Thanks. That feels like a lifetime ago. These days, I’m trying to graduate from superhero vigilantes to something a little more… nuanced.”

“Like what?” y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m working on a psychological thriller at the moment,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “It’s dark, twisty, and completely messed up. I’m having a blast.”

“That sounds amazing,” y/n said. “I’m a sucker for anything dark and twisty.”

They talked for the next hour, oblivious to the swirling crowd around them. y/n was surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. He was intelligent, witty, and refreshingly down-to-earth. He didn’t treat her like some starstruck ingenue, but like a fellow artist. They discussed their shared passion for film, their favorite directors, and even debated the merits of method acting (he was for it, she was skeptical).

“You know,” Aaron said, leaning closer, his voice a low rumble, “I’d love to hear more about your indie film. The one you were talking about earlier.”

y/n’s heart fluttered. “It’s a small project, but I’m really proud of it. It’s a coming-of-age story, set against the backdrop of… well, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated is good,” Aaron said with a grin. “I like complicated.”

As the evening drew to a close, Aaron pulled out his phone. “I’d hate for our champagne-soaked conversation to end here. Would you mind if I got your number?”

y/n, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably, rattled off her digits.

“Great,” Aaron said. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe we could grab coffee and talk more about… complicated things.”

“I’d like that,” y/n replied, her smile mirroring his.

The next day, a text arrived: “Aaron T-J: Coffee tomorrow? My treat. And maybe we can discuss the proper etiquette for champagne spills.”

y/n’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “y/n: Deal. But I’m warning you, I’m a terrible influence. Prepare for more accidental beverage-related incidents.”

Their coffee date turned into dinner, which turned into late-night talks on his apartment balcony overlooking the city. They discovered a shared love for old vinyl records, a mutual disdain for reality TV, and a surprisingly compatible sense of humor. The whirlwind romance that followed was a blur of stolen kisses, whispered secrets, and a growing sense of connection that neither of them could deny.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, they were curled up on Aaron's couch, watching an old black and white movie. A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace. y/n felt a sense of belonging she hadn't experienced before. She looked at Aaron, his face illuminated by the flickering light, and a warmth spread through her chest.

He turned, catching her gaze. He smiled, a soft, intimate smile that made her heart skip a beat. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"y/n," he said, his voice quiet, "I know things have moved quickly between us, but... I can't imagine my life without you in it."

y/n's breath hitched. She knew what was coming, and her heart pounded in her chest.

"I love spending time with you," he continued, his eyes searching hers. "You make me laugh, you challenge me, and you make me happier than I've ever been. I was wondering... would you want to move in with me?"

y/n's mind raced. Moving in together was a big step, but it felt right. It felt natural. She loved being with Aaron. She loved their late-night talks, their shared laughter, and the way he made her feel.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I would love to."

Aaron's smile widened. He pulled her closer, kissing her softly. "I can't wait," he murmured against her lips.

The next few weeks were a flurry of packing, organizing, and merging their lives together. y/n's apartment felt empty without her, but her new home with Aaron felt full of promise. They painted the spare room a warm, inviting shade of blue, turning it into y/n's writing room. They rearranged the furniture in the living room, creating a cozy space where they could relax and unwind after a long day.

One evening, after they had finished unpacking, they stood in the doorway of their apartment, looking around at their shared space. y/n leaned against Aaron, her head resting on his shoulder.

"It feels like home," she said softly.

Aaron wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "It does," he agreed. "It feels like we're finally where we're supposed to be."

And as they stood there, surrounded by the quiet comfort of their new home, y/n knew that she had made the right decision. She had spilled champagne on her future, and it had led her to a place where she truly belonged.

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yangjungwonisms · 1 day ago

Text

Call me Daddy?-YJW

warnings: NSFW| MDNI 18+

~this is written as a follow up to ‘It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to” I’m not super happy with it but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless

Ever since his birthday Jungwon got the distinct feeling you were avoiding him. Actually he was positive you were avoiding him, he just wasn’t sure why. You had started acting different after his birthday, anytime since then that Jungwon had tried to initiate anything sexual you were quick to mutter an excuse and leave the room. He had wracked his brain for weeks trying to figure out if it was something he said or did the last time you two had sex. But nothing came to mind. But once he really thought deeply about what took place between you two on that day, he remembered that in the middle of you two messing around Jungwon referred to himself as ‘daddy’. Surely that couldn’t be why you had been avoiding him, but that was the only thing it could be. Now he was determined to figure out if the reason you were avoiding him was out of embarrassment. Jungwon may have said it as a joke at first, but once he saw how you reacted to it, and how much you liked it he was scheming ways to bring it back up. But he’d never be able to if you kept running away every single time. It wasn’t even about that really, he usually doesn’t get much free time with you to be intimate. He was going crazy, he needed to touch you, not even in a sexual way. He just needed you.

Jungwon was determined that today was the day he was going to confront you about the issue at hand. He was lucky enough to have the afternoon off, meaning he had plenty of time to set the scene for what he was hoping would be a fun night. He wanted to show you that there wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about, he didn’t even care if you two never used the word again he just wanted to make you feel better. So his big plan was to cook you a nice dinner by candlelight with your favorite wine. He realized with how busy he’s been, he hasn’t done something like this for you in awhile. He made a mental reminder to make more time for romance in your relationship.He timed everything just right, finishing up dinner as soon as you walked in the door. He met you at the door, taking your coat off of you and hanging it up. He immediately goes to pull you into a hug, which you let him do with ease. But being in such close proximity to you starts to overtake his senses. He has to pull away from you or else he fears he’d try and fuck you right on the spot. Once you turn around you see that the apartment is decorated and that dinner is ready for you two on the table. You break out into a little smile once you take it all in. “What’s all this baby”? He’s too busy staring at you and imagining finally getting to have you after weeks that it takes a second for his brain to catch up. “Just wanted to do something special for my baby”. At that, you pull him into another hug and briefly nuzzle into his chest. “You’re too good to me” is what he thinks you say, your voice is a little muffled so he can’t 100% make it out. “It’s what you deserve baby. Let’s go eat dinner yeah”?

You two have dinner and pass the time talking about your days and sharing little anecdotes that you think the other will find amusing. But once dinner is over you feel a shift in the air. You aren’t sure what it is at first, but one look at Jungwon and you’re ready to run for the hills. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it hundreds of times. Jungwon can feel your body start to tense up, he can tell that any second now you’re gonna try and make a break for it. “I know you’re thinking of running. Why have you been avoiding me baby”? You honestly hadn’t given it any thought that he had figured you out, but you weren’t exactly hiding it either. “I- I uh don’t know what you mean”. He moves past you to the couch turning around to give you a pointed look to show he expected you to follow him. Once he’s sat down with you next to him he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t lie to me baby, just tell me what’s going on so I can make you feel better”. Deep down you knew it wasn’t a big deal and that Jungwon would never make fun of you for liking it but you were embarrassed. “I got embarrassed” you mumble out, eyes unable to meet his gaze. At that, he pulled you over to sit in his lap, his hand immediately coming up to play with your hair. “Is this about the daddy thing Princess”? You weren’t surprised he had already come to that conclusion given how well he knew you. “maybe”. He grabs your chin softly turning you to look directly at him. “You don’t need to be embarrassed baby. It’s okay that you liked it. I did too”.

You hadn’t let yourself think about the possibility of him liking it, but now that he had said as much you could feel all of the embarrassment and shame start to slip away. “You did”? You asked him a little more hopeful than you’d intended. “Yeah baby. Do you know how hot it was seeing you get so worked up over that? Been dying to do it since”. You start to feel the effects of not letting yourself be with him for the last few weeks seep into your body. Your body was a ticking time bomb by this point, you knew if you played your cards right you’d be in for a really fun night. “Really”? It isn’t until this moment that you feel him under you. All you were doing was sitting on his lap but that was the most physical contact you two had; had for weeks so his body was extra sensitive. “Baby, you came so hard after that, it’s all I could think about for weeks. Just want to make you feel good”. Your cheeks go flush at the tone of voice he is using. The last time you heard it was his birthday. It was almost blinding the way his mood flipped. “Daddy just wants to make his baby feel good”. Your breathing became noticeably heavier when he finally spoke the word you’d been thinking about for weeks. “I want you to make me feel good”. That response wasn’t good enough for him, you can tell by the way he tsks at you, shaking his head. “If you want something you need to ask for it like a good girl”. You knew what he wanted and in a split second you had to make a decision, you ultimately decide to lean into it. “Can you make me feel good please, daddy”?

His face lit up with pride at hearing you finally lean into it. “Don’t worry baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel good. But first, I laid something out for you to wear for me. It’s in the bedroom. Be a good girl and go put it on for me”. He prompts you to get up and walk towards the room, giving you a small smack on the ass encouraging you to move faster. All he had laid out for you was one of his oversized t shirts. You make quick work to change before walking back out to him in the living room. “You look so beautiful for me baby. Come over here and sit on my lap”. Once you made contact with his lap you were reminded yet again how hard he was for you. “Mm do you feel that baby? Feel how hard I am for you”. He decides to accentuate his point by placing his hands on your hips to hold you down while he grinded up into you. You’re reminded that you have nothing on under your shirt by how much of him you can feel through his pants. He eventually stopped holding your hips only after he had started moving them to grind on him. You immediately got lost in the movement not even having realized he was sitting back watching you. He was more than content watching you grind on him with your eyes closed and your head thrown back. He knew that you were just as desperate for him as he had been for you. When you opened your eyes to look at him you could only see lust looking back at you. But you don’t stop,you had deprived yourself of this for too long and you needed release. Jungwon let out a soft sigh “feel good baby”? It felt so good, but you needed more you always needed more. “feels good daddy”. Jungwon felt you falter just a little but enough for him to know that you needed more from him.

“But you need more don’t you baby? Need more from daddy huh”? He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he’s moved his hand down in between your legs, playing with your clit lazily. You let out a long drawn out moan at the contact that you’d been waiting for, which is of course, music to your lovers ears. He plays with you for the next few minutes feeling you grow wetter by the second before without warning he eases two fingers into your cunt. He’s quick to move his other hand in between your thighs to keep hold on your clit all while fingering you open. The only sounds that could be heard were of the squelching sounds coming from every stroke of Jungwon’s fingers plunging in and out of you. “Feels so good right baby? I know you love when I fuck you real good with my fingers”. He had started cooing at you, continuing to fuck you faster pushing you closer to the edge by the second. “So good daddy so good”. The way he looked at you was as if you were the only person in the world, but he always looked at you that way. That’s how you knew in the truly intense moments of your relationship that he loved you. You could always tell in the way he looked at you, like you were something to behold.

“Think you can take another finger baby”? He wasn’t asking for permission, he was going to do it regardless unless he genuinely thought you didn’t like it. But the way you were clinging onto him just confirmed what he already thought. So he continued on fucking three fingers into you at a steady pace, he isn’t sure when but some time during his ministrations you snuck a hand down in between you two and started palming him over his pants. You work quick to undo his pants just enough to pull his cock out. The first drag of your palm on him sent shivers through his body. But when you pulled your hand away briefly to spit on it before taking him back in your hand was when he really started to lose control. “Fuck that’s good baby, keep going”. That was all you needed to hear before speeding your hand up to the point where Jungwon was letting out breathy moans all the while never stopping his fingers from fucking in and out of you. “Gonna make me cum baby, need you to cum with me, can you do that for daddy”? He’s able to get a few more sharp thrusts into you before your body spasms and you’re finishing all over his fingers. Within seconds he’s flung over the edge and cumming into your hand. You continue to stroke him through his orgasm until he’s overstimulated, reaching a hand out to still your movements. “enough baby, s-too much”.

He pulls you to lay down with him on the couch, just relaxing and trying to recover from the rather intense orgasm he just had. He had been playing with your hair and leaving little kisses all over your face. “You did so good for me baby. Think you can take more”? For him you were always sure you could take more, it wouldn’t matter if you were exhausted you’d never deny him. But there was something sitting in the back of your head this entire time that you absolutely had to ask him. “Do you really like the daddy thing baby”? He hadn’t really wanted to admit until just now just how hard it made him when you referred to him as ‘Daddy’. “Fuck baby, I love it so much. Now what do you say, is it okay if daddy fucks you now”? A shiver ran through your body hearing him confirm just how much he liked it. So you answer by batting your eyes at him and smiling “oh please fuck me daddy”. He’s gentle with you this time around, as opposed to the last time he fucked you long and hard all night long. He had been set on going straight to fucking you, but seeing your wet pussy right in front of him like that changed his mind. He wanted to reward you for being so good for him. So he spent the next few minutes making you fall apart on his tongue, until he was fucking you through two more orgasms. He spent the next hour fucking you slowly, until you were both clinging onto each other whispering each others names. By the end of the day he lost track of how many times he had made you cum, but he enjoyed spending his time with you this way. But more than anything, he was relieved you weren’t avoiding him anymore, and also that you both found something you both enjoyed immensely. He was sure in the future it would be the cause of many moments of passion.

#kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writers #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enha jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon enhypen

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freeasthewesternbreeze · 15 hours ago

Text

Arthur taking care of a Drunk! Reader

I love dis man!!! This was meant to be a short blurb and then it ended up like this. This is me rambling, so nothing serious. Definitely gonna have some grammar mistakes too my apologies, but enjoy! GIVE ME ARTHUR SO IN LOVE WITH HIS LADY OR GIVE ME DEATH!!! THIS MAN NEEDS TO BE LOVED AND CUDDLED!!! RAHHHHH

—

Arthur Morgan is the type of man that loves to dote on his beautiful partner. He loves to compliment her when she’s not there, and speak nothing but songs of praises to the gang. While it might not be the typical “romantic cowboy” trope Mary-Beth reads in her books, Arthur had so many different, yet loving ways in which he dotes on his love.

You need some help setting up your cot and space when the gang finds a new spot? Fear not beautiful, Arthur, who has been riding for hours and working himself to the bone all day already set it up, making sure to ask if anything needed to be changed to your liking.

Another one of your favorite things about Arthur is how no matter how disgusting you may feel, or how embarrassing you think a situation is, Arthur will always be there to help. And still think you’re as beautiful as ever.

Maybe one night you lost count of how many drinks you and the girls at camp were having and decided to loudly and obnoxiously flirt with Arthur while he was on patrol just outside the camp. Instead of getting frustrated with you and telling you to get it together, he gets flustered and makes a remark on how you’re gonna feel in the morning. The burly man could barely believe what his eyes were seeing before him. The love of his life stumbling towards him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “HOW ABOUT YOU COME ON OVER DOWN HERE AND…” she took a quick pause to hiccup “LEMME SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL GOOD TIME LOOKS LIKE COWBOY!” This remark triggers a soft chuckle out of Arthur, making a mental note to ban Karen from ever giving you liquor. (or maybe just sometimes… he’s loving this)

He would take you to a secluded spot and simply sit down with you until you calmed down. You maybe were getting a little handsy with our favorite cowboy and maybe even left a few kisses on his smiling face.

“Now sweetheart you know I love you, and if the circumstances were different, I’d be all over you like a pig in mud. But darlin’ you are so drunk I don’t even think you can walk straight” He says while slowly taking your hands off of his chest.

“Y-you listen here you handsome sum’ bitch, I think we need to get out of here…. and knock some boots…” you replied to him in a drunken tone as you shot him a pathetic attempt at a wink. Drunk you could have sworn Arthur Morgan was created solely to make you happy. You knew this man was yours and all you wanted to do was eat him alive. The alcohol running hot in your blood was making that feeling amplified.

As you continued to drunkenly flirt with Arthur and make him laugh, your glazed eyes couldn’t even focus on Arthur’s grinning face anymore before you slowly start to feel the sky and earth around you spinning.

‘Ah yes … the punishment for my greed of drinking’ You begin to think as the nights festivities begin to catch up with you.

Arthur quickly takes note of the way your eyes clench shut and the way your body tenses up as you slowly push off of him and begin to stumble towards a bush. You felt like the world was spinning at about 10x the speed it normally does, and your stomach decided it didn’t like that very much.

“Oh fuck me…” You say aloud as you begin to dry heave.

Arthur knew what was about to happen because the man had found himself in that same exact position more times then he can count. He began to walk over to you, grabbing the loose strands of hair surrounding your face to hold back as the drinks you had inhaled came up again.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

But Arthur couldn’t help but feel so honored to care for you in such a manner. He felt so much love for you even in such a vulnerable moment, because he knew that you trusted him enough to take care of you.

“I gotchu pretty girl… just get it out…” he begins to slowly rub your back up and down as the contents of your stomach now end up in the bush you tried to hide behind.

“I’m never drinking that shit Karen calls whiskey againnnn,” you practically cry out as you finally get a moment to breathe “She’s tryin’ to kill me..”

Arthur slowly blows cool air on the back of your neck to cool you down as he feels you getting sweaty and hot from the exertion of everything. “Honey you also don’t drink much.”

Arthur recalls he had only seen you this drunk once before. And it ended up with you jumping in the river naked and him having to fish you out. And yes, you were trying to get fresh with him even while half drowning. But that’s a story for another time.

“Yeah well… whatever.” You say finally relishing in the sense of relief that falls over you now that everything is out of your system. You look up at Arthur and see him smiling at you with kind eyes. You felt your face heat up under his gaze. ‘Why must he be so handsome? God damn I love this man’. You thought trying to stand up straighter.

“You’re so cute. Even when you’re drunk as a skunk” he remarks and kisses the side of your head. He guides you by the waist back to camp to wash your mouth out and take a quick bird bath. You still weren’t completely sober, but sober enough to know it’s time to crawl into bed.

Arthur takes you into his tent and tells you to lie down while he gets you some tea to relax you a bit more. The soft glow of the lantern creates a soft atmosphere, making Arthur’s space feel more like a sanctuary as opposed to a tent set up in the middle of a camp somewhere in the forest. You pull off your dress and boots and end up grabbing one of Arthur’s shirts to sleep in. He tries to keep them as clean as he can because he knows you love to sleep in them, so he keeps a special drawer just for you in his tent.

You slip into his cot and breathe in his scent on his pillow. Tobacco, leather, and pine. That’s what your Arthur smells like, and you swear you could die happy if it was the last thing you ever got to sleep in. You hear shuffling outside of the ten as the flap slowly opens up, revealing Arthur’s large form. He places your tea next to you so you can have a few sips as he slowly begins to take off his things and prepare for bed.

“I got Javi to finish the patrol. He needed a break from Uncle’s lumbago bullshit.” You giggle at the thought of Javier sitting there trying to relax and strum his guitar while Uncle cries about an ailment that most don’t even know if he actually has.

“Well you certainly saved him from a night of misery.” You yawn placing your finished tea down as you shuffle under Arthur’s blankets a bit further, feeling the chilly nip of air hitting your shoulders. “You can say that again.” He replies.

Arthur finally takes his shirt off leaving him only in his pants as he turns to look at you. You jokingly whistle at him as you look at him up and down, drinking in your protectors beautiful body. You see him quickly huff and look away as he mumbles a “Shut up…” with a small smile on his face. You smile in reply to him as you make room for him to lay down. He turns off the lantern and gently slides into the cot with you, careful not to take the covers off of you.

You move to your side as Arthur also lies on his slide. You shuffle closer to his back and wrap your arm around his torso and bury your face in the back of his neck. Gently placing soft kisses on him.

“You make such a nice little spoon partner.” You whisper into his neck. You feel his shoulders shake with laughter as he relaxes into your touch. “Reckon you can’t reach much back there. You’re kinda like a spider monkey on me.”

“At least you’re warm…. And why a spider monkey? Why not a…” you pause to think, with your eyes slowly beginning to droop, but your exhausted brain really can’t come up with a snarky response “Nope, that makes sense never mind.”

You feel Arthur grab your hand under the covers and squeeze it gently as he starts to feel your breathing start to slow and get heavier. “Goodnight handsome… I love you… thanks for takin care o’ me..” You mumble as you give his shoulder one last peck.

You couldn’t see it, but Arthur had a soft smile while he heard you say those words. You made him feel like he could take the world on. Just feeling your touch and having you lay here with him made his insides feel like a thousand bees and roses buzzing and growing inside of him. He felt beautiful for once.

He never thought he would have this. He never thought he could ever feel so deeply for another person again after all the hurt and trauma he had gone through. But you came along and changed that. You made him feel like he was more than just some violent enforcer, or some dumb cowboy. You made him feel seen, and in many ways, safe. You were his to protect, and he was yours to have.

“I love you too pretty girl. More than words can say.”

——

AHHHH YOU GUYS!!!

This is my first fic I have written in over ten years. I’m still super rusty and honestly still feel I could hone the skill a bit better. I hope you all liked this! I love my bb cowboy Arthur, and I always want to dote on that beautiful man. He was little spoon this time around because… well have you seen those shoulders of his? Beautiful. Magnificent.

Please let me know how you guys feel! And let me know if any ideas you may like to see written out. 🩵

—

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 community #arthur Morgan x yn #red dead fandom #red dead redemption arthur #fluff

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stellamarielu · 2 days ago

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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

#every time i write for mitchell i die a little inside #i love him so bad #john mitchell #john mitchell smut #john mitchell x reader

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fishiefishieluvr · 10 hours ago

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🍎🐶 caleb relationship headcanons🍎🐶

my heart is now shared by both rafayel and caleb so i had to succumb to my desires and write headcanons for our favorite colonel… forgive me these are a bit rushed i wrote it in like 20 minutes i’ve been thinking about him waaaayyy too much!

a/n: i tried to make it gender neutral as possible. warnings for nsfw content, implied obsessive / yandere tendencies, alcohol mention, that’s all i can think… enjoy!!

———

♡ — literally will drop almost anything he’s doing when he gets a text from you, whether it’s just simply chatting about your day or a new interest, or — better yet, inviting him over — he always responds and makes time for you.

♡ — even after graduating and heading off to the DAA, he still felt… intertwined, to say the least with you. as mentioned before, even in the brief absences between texts and phone calls, i feel like caleb definitely is the type to somewhat feel or understand what you’re feeling even while away. oh? you’re sad and depressed? that explains why caleb has been having kind of a shitty day without even knowing.

♡ — constantly fiddles with the necklace you had gifted him. it’s a habit, practically second nature to him. it especially helps him when his nerves are in overdrive.

♡ — this isn’t even a headcanon but gooood god did it piss him off somewhat when girls fawned over him. it wasn’t the girl's faults and he can’t really blame them it's just….. his heart has been dead set on you since the beginning. the only attention he thrives on is yours, whatever sort of attention even.

♡ — snuck one of your plushies away with him when he went off to pilots academy. he stashes it away whenever one of his guy friends (cause caleb never allows any girls in his dorm who aren’t you lol) stops by. he’s even freakier too, practically bathing it secretly in your perfume or body spray before he sneaks off to pack. it’s safe to say he sleeps with it almost every night.

♡ — when you do finally meet again whether during holidays or after he graduates, he sticks by your side almost constantly. regardless! he is respectful of your boundaries and will immediately retreat away if you seem even the slightest bit uncomfortable by it (that’s not to say he won’t sulk a bit. but he’ll do it in the comfort of privacy).

♡ — loves to cuddle and embrace you, fucking thrives on that shit. pre-relationship and growing up wise he snuck what he could from long and warm embraces, nights spooning you on the couch or in his bed, and little forehead kisses… even holding your hand causes his pulse to quicken and his cheeks to turn a rosy hue.

♡ — you thought he was clingy pre relationship? ohhhhh boy it’s increased tenfold when you both finally confess feelings. he feels physically and emotionally unwell when without you for a certain period of time. he only feels the slightest bit better when he goes on week to month(s) long missions as colonel once you finally relent and move in with him. coming back to you, his anchor, his home, his heart… his everything. it makes it all so worth it.

♡ — speaking of this man definitely spoils you in every aspect. i just know he gets paid so damn well so he spends all his earnings on you. don’t mention something that caught your eye even in passing because next thing you know it’s in your hands either the next day or a week later.

♡ — i believe without a doubt that caleb is the type to have planned on getting married to you the second he realized his feelings for you. why else would he chase off anyone who sought your heart if he wasn’t planning on a future entirely with just you and him (and some little ones. but not relevant rn!)? whatever sort of wedding you wanted, he’d give you in a heartbeat. proposes to you for sure pretty early on, which isn’t all that surprising seeing as you spent your entire lives together.

♡ — the bane of his existence is the nights you decide to go out with friends. regardless if drinks are involved, caleb insists on picking you up at the end of the night. and if a sleepover is in the works? oh he’s so pouty about it… i think there are a select few people who he trusts with your safety (even though you insist you’re grown enough to defend yourself), one of them is definitely tara. so yaaay! every now and then you can have a peaceful girls night ^^

now onto the nsfw part :o

♡ — i’m the biggest virgin caleb supporter ever. i agree that he’d read up and study on how to perfect his first time (and potentially yours if you’re losing it too). he definitely is pathetic though in my eyes and doesn’t last very long at all despite his long studying, cums under a minute whether it’s from oral or inside of you. prepare to comfort him because he will feel slightly pathetic about it…

♡ — finds comfort in rutting against your thigh, your ass, you name it! puppy caleb is so real… he’d whimper in your ear, breath hot against your skin, practically drooling as he warns you of his impending orgasm.

♡ — on the nights where his duty as colonel is far too exhausting, he definitely thoroughly enjoys cockwarming. after being apart from you for soooo long and even after work duties, he just needs to be connected and intertwined with you. there’s no work to be done so long as he has you in his arms and he’s inside of you in some shape or form.

♡ — gets fucked-out and drunk off of you way too easily. again with the first headcanon, he cums in his pants just from witnessing your pleasure. anything with you will get him off.

♡ — caleb definitely is the type to experiment with you. his only no-no’s are stuff that could risk seriously rendering you injured. choking? absolutely, that’s fine! just nothing too extreme. gun play? gets off sooo much watching the barrel of his gun in your mouth, no bullets inside, of course! he’s not picky, your pleasure is his pleasure, after all.

#caleb x reader #caleb x mc #love and deepspace x reader #lads caleb #lads caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb x reader

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kooffeecup · 2 days ago

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★ Happy Together ~ two shot — part 1 ★

When an accident takes your laugh away, along with your one leg. Will jungkook stay?

Genre : angst, fluff, tragedy

" Are we taking the strawberry ice- cream dad?", the little girl beside Jungkook asked. " Of course we are. It's your mom's favorite after all ", he said smiling at her making the little girl giggle softly along with her dad.

Jungkook was in the store picking up some groceries for the week. His daughter, a cute 5 year old with long black hair and big brown eyes, sat in the shopping cart as he pushed her around the aisles. She kept pointing at different things and asking for them, but jungkook did his best to explain that they needed to stick to their list.

" Now let's go. We can't be late. Otherwise momma will eat dad alive", Jungkook said and his daughter started laughing again.

jungkook pulled the cart up to the front of his house and parked it in the driveway before helping his daughter climb out of the top. He then pushed the cart up to the front door and rang the bell, the sound echoing through the house. He could hear footsteps approaching from inside, and a moment later the door swung open to reveal his wife, looking as lovely as ever.

"Hey you two," she said warmly, her gaze falling on her daughter first. "Did you have a good time at the store?" The little girl nodded eagerly, bouncing up and down. "We got ice cream!" your favorite ice cream, " her 5 year old daughter replied.

Jungkook couldn't help but grin at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Yep, strawberry ice cream," he added, patting her little head. "Just like Mommy likes. " You smiled.

" Give me the groceries. Mom and dad are coming and I haven't cooked anything yet", his wife said trying to take the items from his hands. Jungkook chuckled as he handed the grocery bags to his wife. "Careful, they're heavy," he warned. However, his words fell on deaf ears as she simply snatched them from him and made her way to the kitchen. "I need to start cooking before my parents get here," she said over her shoulder. " It doesn't matter they love everything you make", Jungkook said, making her smile.

" Go and take a shower. Please if you can, get amara ready too. I'm gonna be very busy for a few hours ", she said and Jungkook nodded. " Don't overwork & tell the maids to help you okay? And if i can make some time i will come and help you with the cooking ", he said before peaking her lips and she smiled at him and walked away.

Jungkook took a shower fast and got his daughter Amara ready for dinner. His parents will be here soon. He got some time and thought about helping his wife but his daughter won't stop clinging on him. " What do you think you are doing little girl ?" He asked and held his baby in his arms.

" I'm bored ", Amara said, pouting her small lips. " So what does Amara want her dad to do about it ?" Jungkook asked again. " Amara wants to listen to her dad's first love's story", she said and Jungkook looked at her curiously.

" What? Who told you about this? ", He asked. " I heard you and mom talking about it the other day. I wanna know too", she said and looked at him with her puppy eyes making her dad give in all over again. " Alright, but don't tell momma that i told you about this okay?"He asked to make sure about it. " I won't tell a soul", amara said, making him laugh a little and then he started to tell her the story of his first love.

10 years ago :

Jungkook huffed before leaning forward and tapping the desk lightly to get the nurse's attention. "Excuse me," he said, trying to keep his tone polite. "I'm looking for a patient named YN. Do you know which room she is in?"

" Are you a relative" The receptionist asked. " I'm her boyfriend", he said. The receptionist looked up briefly from her computer, barely sparing him a glance before returning her attention to the screen. "Room 142. Down the hall on the left," she said.

Jungkook's heart raced as he sprinted down the long hospital corridor, barely taking the time to dodge any staff or equipment in his path. All that mattered was getting to you as quickly as possible.

His feet carried him past room after room, his mind focused on nothing but seeing you. Finally he reached room 142 and practically burst through the door.

There you were, lying in the hospital bed, looking pale and exhausted. As soon as jungkook laid eyes on you, his heart ached. He rushed to your bedside and grabbed your hand, his grip tight and shaky. "y/n," he breathed, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm here. I'm here now."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, never letting go of your hand as he took in your appearance up close. You looked so small and helpless in the white hospital gown, and seeing you like that broke his heart. He wanted to say so many things, but all he could manage was a soft "I'm here." He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving your face.

" Jungkook, " you called out. Your voice was weak and strained, barely above a whisper. He leaned in closer, placing his hand gently on your cheek. "I'm here," he repeated, his voice filled with tenderness. "I'm right here, baby."

Jungkook sat in the chair by your bedside, deep in thought. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was supposed to be a simple date night, but now here you were, lying in a hospital bed.

He replayed the events of the evening over and over in his mind. If only he had been there with you. Maybe then you wouldn't be in this situation. But he hadn't been. He had been too busy with work, and you had insisted on going alone & wait for him. But the accident happend. No one could have predicted this outcome, especially not jungkook. He looked down at your pale, fragile form, his heart aching with remorse. He should have been there with you, watching out for you and keeping you safe. But instead, he had been too busy, and now you were the one paying the price.

" How are you feeling "?, Jungkook asked. You just looked at him with your teary eyes not uttering a single word. " I'm so sorry. I should have been with you", he said as tears started to fall from his eyes. " Don't blame yourself Jungkook. " you said.

You suddenly burst into tears, your voice quivering as you spoke. "I lost my leg. How am I going to survive now?" Jungkook's heart clenched in his chest as he watched you break down before him. Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and distraught, was more than he could bear.

"No, no, no," he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. "Don't say that. You're going to survive, and you're going to be okay. You're strong, You are so much stronger than you know. I will be there for you. Please don't think that you are alone", he said and kissed your forehead.

You closed your eyes feeling the warmth of his lips on your skin. But as the reality of your situation set in, a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts began to swirl through your head. How would you be able to live like this? What kind of future would you have now? The uncertainty was overwhelming, and you couldn't imagine a life without your leg.

You looked at jungkook through tear-filled eyes, searching for reassurance that everything would be okay. But deep down, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again, and the thought terrified you.

jungkook's heart ached. He wished he could take away all your pain and make everything okay again, but he knew he couldn't. All he could do was be there for you, supporting you and helping you through this difficult time.

3 weeks later :

You smiled as soon as you saw your boyfriend walking up to you. " You are early today ", you said. "I missed you", he replied and hugged you. " I missed you too ", you said.

" See i brought yourfavorite ice cream ", he said and gavethe box which you took excitedly. Hospital food is not for you and you were craving sweets which doctors aren't giving. You hurriedly open the box and frowned. You heard Jungkook laughing while looking at you innocently.

" Strawberry ice cream, seriously? ",You asked and he laughed even more. Yes, what happened? It's your favorite ",he said and you smacked his hands."You know i hate this flavor ", you said and glared at him. But smiled soon seeing him laughing. It pained your heart for a reason too. Fear of not able to see his smiling face again making your heart ache. Fear of what would happen after the things you are going to say now.

" Jungkook, i want to talk about something ", you said. jungkook halted in the middle of his laugh at the tone of your voice. It was cold and distant, completely unlike the soft, gentle voice he was used to hearing from you. He instantly knew that something was wrong. "Of course," he said, his expression now serious.

"What is it?" He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak. He could see the conflict and uncertainty in your eyes, and it worried him. Whatever it was that you wanted to talk about, it seemed like it was causing you distress.

You looked at him nervously yet with a cold face. " You should stop coming here now ", you said.

Jungkook looked at you confused as you spoke, your words cold and distant. He had been spending so much time at the hospital with you, visiting you every day, hoping to bring you some comfort. But now, you were telling him to stop coming. "What do you mean?" he said, his voice soft yet tinged with confusion. "Why do you want me to stop visiting you?"

He studied your face, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. But your expression remained stoic, betraying no emotion. It was as if you had emotionally distanced yourself from him in that moment, and the thought of losing you scared him more than he could put into words.

"I mean you should stop coming here to see me from now on. I lost my leg. I'm not in a right state. My mind is full of thoughts about my unsure future. And with those I can't be with you anymore ", you said.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. You were pushing him away, telling him to leave you because of the pain and uncertainty you were feeling.

"What are you saying?" he asked, his voice trembling. "You can't be serious. I want to be here for you, I want to support you in this difficult time. Why are you pushing me away?"

" I can't make you suffer because of me. You cant be with a cripple. You can't spend most of your life taking care of me. You are person with high ambitions. I don't want to be the problem. I can't do this anymore. Please just go. Seeing you in front of me is making everything harder for me. Just go please just go ", you said in a cold tone without giving a single glance to Jungkook.

jungkook's heart broke a little more with each word you spoke. He could see the pain and determination in your eyes, and he knew that you truly believed what you were saying. But he couldn't accept it. He loved you, and he wanted to be there for you, no matter what.

"Please, don't do this," he begged, his voice cracking "I don't care if I have to spend my whole life taking care of you. You could never be a problem for me," he said, his voice pleading. "I love you, regardless of what happened. I want to be there for you. Please, don't push me away. "

You took a deep breath and looked up at him, your face still expressionless. "I can't do this. I don't want to be with you anymore," you said, your voice steady and firm.

"Y-you don't mean that," he stuttered, his voice shaking with emotion. "You can't mean that. We've been through so much together. How can you suddenly decide to push me away?"

You looked at him with cold eyes full of determination. "I do mean it," you said, you voice barely above a whisper. "I need to focus on myself and my uncertain future. And I can't do that with you by my side. I need you to leave."

jungkook's heart ached with each word you spoke. He could hardly recognize the person in front of him, so cold and distant. He had never seen you like this before, and it was tearing him apart.

Present time :

" Then what you did dad ", little Amara asked curiously.

Jungkook took a deep breath, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips as he looked down at his curious daughter. His mind traveling back to that difficult time in his life as he answered his daughter's question.

" I left "

part 2

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pendingnomdeplume · 3 days ago

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i love the nightlife pairing: hozier x transmasc!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: First Meetings, Hook-Ups, Blow Jobs, Fingering words: 6.8k note: there is no language regarding AFAB anatomy in this fic. cocks and holes abound.

[Read it on AO3]

title from I Love the Nightlife by Alicia Bridges divider by: sylusz

Clubs have never really been your thing.

Getting drunk in a loud, dark, moderately humid building packed with people isn’t exactly your idea of a good time. You much prefer a glass of whiskey in the comfort of your favorite spot on your couch, usually coupled with a book or another re-watch of The Sopranos. You like boring. You thrive in the safe and mundane.

Yet, here you are, braced against the bar top at a local gay club that advertises $5 well drinks on Thursday nights. You shout your drink order to a handsome gentleman with an enviable mustache and the tightest black tank top you’ve ever seen. He hands you a slightly overpoured whiskey with a wink and a purposeful brush against your hand.

As your face burns in embarrassment, you decide that maybe now is the time to head outside and get some air. You’ve already lost your roommate, Mason, who fucked off to chat up a silver fox of a bear with a leather vest and a pelt of chest hair unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You’re impressed and also a little envious that your own chest hair isn’t quite as robust.

With Mason otherwise occupied (despite the fact that he pleaded with you to come out tonight), you wander out to the patio where the music doesn’t reverberate through your chest. It’s a lovely, mild spring evening, a fresh breeze lapping at your overheated skin and cooling the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

You beeline for the empty table located in a far corner, collapsing into the chair and sinking into it as you let out a long sigh. A glance at your phone tells you that it’s only 11 PM, and the party inside hasn’t even truly started yet. It’s an easy choice to stay out here and eavesdrop on the conversations of strangers rather than go back inside and be wildly overstimulated.

Worst case scenario, you’re taking a taxi back to your flat without your roommate in tow. You have his location on your phone, and you figure that he’s a big boy who can make his own choices, no matter how dumb and misguided.

“Are you hiding out, as well?”

The voice startles you, and you whip around to meet hazel eyes through thick-rimmed glasses, and a soft, pretty smile. This man looks like he’s been ripped straight from your fantasies—tall and lanky with dark curls that frame his face. His denim jacket is decorated with pins of different musicians and pop culture references, only some of which you understand. His denim jeans are a near perfect match in color to the jacket, and his tucked in t-shirt reveals a black belt with a silver buckle.

For the last 20 minutes or so, you’ve noticed this gentleman hovering in your periphery. With every glance, you’d catch his gaze for only a moment before he quickly turned to look away. Slightly unnerving given his unknown intentions, but this man looks at you almost reverently now as he grabs your attention.

You let out a little laugh and nod. “Yeah, my roommate…he dragged me out here just to abandon me after ten minutes.”

The man hums in amusement. “Ah, that sounds familiar. It’s my friend’s birthday, yet I seem to have lost her somewhere. Have you seen a short, blonde lass with a…” he gestures vaguely at his head. “You know, a birthday headband thing.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, can’t say I have.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I figured not. I’ve no clue where she’s run off to now, though it may be better not to know, honestly.”

“She's a slippery one, then?”

The man laughs, revealing rows of pearly white teeth. “Slippery as a fuckin’ eel. I’m not too worried, though. Worst she’ll do is overindulge on Hurricanes.” He pulls a disgusted face and shakes his head.

He introduces himself as Andrew before offering you a cigarette from a softened pack he pulls from his pocket. Drunk you is far less discerning about such vices, so you accept and allow him to light it for you with the flick of a Zippo as you take a drag.

After a brief pause, he tilts his head and asks, “You didn’t happen to attend Trinity, did you?”

You shake your head. “Nah, sorry. I didn’t.”

Andrew nods. “Right, sorry. Thought you looked familiar, is all.” He falters as he tucks his hair behind his ear.

There’s something about him that’s familiar to you, as well, but you can’t remember ever meeting him previously. You’re sure you’d remember a face and a dazzling smile like that.

Though you can’t be entirely sure, there’s a non-zero chance that this man is flirting with you. You’re not surprised so much as you’re caught off-guard. Mason is normally the one to get hit on, especially by tall, dark, handsome men like this. Except, Mason isn’t here, is instead chasing a man more in line with his own personal interests (namely, an abundance of graying hair and shoulders the width of a linebacker’s), and Andrew’s attention is focused squarely on you.

You wonder if perhaps he’s a straight man out of his element. A rogue birthday girl is about, after all. Maybe he got roped into attending the club at her request. It’s not uncommon, and you’ve had a few swings and misses in the past from similar situations. No harm, no foul. Rejection hurts far less when you never had a shot to begin with.

“So…what do you do, then? Work, or school, or…?”

You blink at him, confused. “Oh, uh, work. My dad’s a mechanic. I work at his shop in Bray.”

Andrew nods, averting his gaze to the whiskey in his hand as he gently swirls the glass. Awkward silence falls between you as you fidget with your own drink. You’re terrible at this, unsure of how to navigate the conversation when you’re not entirely sure what his angle is. You suppose you could just ask, but the words die in your throat as you meet his eyes.

“In Bray? North or South?”

With a frown, you respond, “Just south of the County Wicklow line.”

“Ah…I, ehm...don’t know much about cars. I suppose that’s why mechanics exist to begin with, huh? Anyway, you provide an invaluable service to…y’know…the community…”

His face scrunches as he cringes outwardly.

“Okay, that was not…Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry if I’ve bothered you, just ignore me,” he says, and you can make out the flush on his cheeks against his pale skin as he lets out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mean to…I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you were looking for some peace, and here I am just chatting away.”

Guilt grips your chest as you shake your head quickly. “Oh, no! I’m not bothered! Just…bad at small talk, is all.”

He seems to relax a touch as he runs a hand through his frizzy curls. “God, yeah. Me, too. As I’m sure you can tell.”

“Well, to be fair, I haven’t given you much to work with, have I?”

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, a high-pitched voice calls out, “Andrew!”

The two of you turn at the shouting of his name. A lively blonde with a Birthday Girl headband and a sunset orange drink bounds up to you with the type of drunk grin that comes from one too many cocktails.

“Karen, Jesus fucking Christ! Where did you run off to? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The woman—Karen—merely shrugs, scrunching her vaguely bloodshot eyes.

“Caoimhe and I were dancing upstairs. Have you been upstairs, Andy? It’s so cool, and the bartenders are quite heavy-handed up there.” Faltering, Karen turns to you looking perplexed. “Oh, hello there!”

“Hi,” you say with a short wave of your hand, then gesture towards her birthday headband. “Happy birthday.”

“Aw, thank you so much!” Karen turns back to Andrew and says, “Yeah, seems like you were looking for me real hard, Andy, and not at all flirting with anyone.” She turns to give you an exaggerated wink as Andrew claps his hands together with a grimace.

“All right! Karen! Thank you so much for that. Maybe you should go find Caoimhe again, yeah? Or, Saoirse. Or, Max. Or, literally anyone else.”

“Right, right, I’ll be gone in a moment.” Karen waves a dismissive hand before addressing you directly. “Watch out for this one, yeah? Mr. Hozier here has rockstar sensibilities, so don’t fall for his meek and mild act. He’s more of the mischievous and misbehaving type, especially when he’s trying to bed some—”

“Okay!” Andrew interrupts loudly as he digs into his pocket while gently pushing Karen back towards the building. “Karen, love? Here. Go get some water, and maybe some pretzels?”

She takes the crumpled €20 note from his hand. “Wow, bribery. That’s new.” She looks back at you and says brightly, “He must really be interested in you if he’s—”

“Karen, for the love of God, please.”

“Right, fine! I’m going, I’m going! But, this note is going towards another Hurricane, Andrew!”

Karen scuttles away with another wink and a wave thrown over her shoulder before she disappears into the crowd, only visible by the glittering of her headband until the crowd swallows her whole. You blink after her, equal parts amused and befuddled. What a fascinating woman.

Andrew presses his palm to his forehead. “I am…so sorry about her. Love her to death, I do, but she’s a bit of a loud mouth.”

Despite the amusing display, you’re caught up on one small detail—Andrew is, in fact, Hozier. You’ve only ever listened to his songs as part of a playlist rotation, never actually looking into the man himself. Everything you’ve ever heard about him (which is to say, not a whole lot) has only ever been positive, yet you’re still surprised by his lack of…well, ego. The man is a bonafide hometown hero, and you’re honestly shocked he hasn’t received more attention from patrons this evening.

“Seems she spilled your secret, aye?”

Andrew laughs awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “I suppose it’s not much of a secret. I just wasn’t sure if you…I mean, you didn’t say anything, and it felt weird to…”

“No, I get it. I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you. But, yeah, I’m sure it feels weird to introduce yourself as a rockstar.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, rockstar might be a stretch. I’m just a guy with a guitar, really.”

“Right. Simply a man with a guitar and a voice and thousands upon thousands of fans,” you say with a nod before downing the rest of your drink. It settles warmly in your stomach as you wince at the bite of it on your tongue. “So, Mr. Humble, do you make a habit of flirting with random men on your nights out, or…?”

Anxiety gnaws at you as a blush heats your face. He hasn’t contested anything Karen said so far. If Andrew is interested in anything more than a bit of friendly chit-chat, you’re certainly not going to deny him the opportunity.

“Not all the time,” he shrugs, then laughs to himself as he stares at his own nearly empty glass. “I apologize if I’m being too…forward, I suppose. Two of these, and suddenly I’m the most talkative person in the room. It also makes flirting with attractive men a lot easier.”

You can’t bite back your bashful laugh as you turn to hide your grin.

“Don’t worry, my roommate is much the same. Get a few drinks into him, and he won’t shut the fuck up about Thin Lizzy for hours. Thank God he hasn’t come out here, otherwise I’m sure he’d be teasing me about chatting you up.”

He raises a curious eyebrow. “Are you? Chatting me up, I mean?”

You raise an eyebrow in return. “Well, it’s not as fun if I just tell you outright.”

Andrew is all smiles as he nods in agreement. “Right, of course. You’ve got to keep the mystery and suspense going, surely.”

After a beat, your own smile falters. If you’re going to go any farther trying to woo this man who is seemingly interested, you figure it’s best to be upfront with him. Separate the wheat from the chaff and all that.

“Right,” you echo. “Listen, before anything happens, it’s probably best to let you know that I’m trans. I like to get that out of the way up top, that way nobody wastes any time.”

Andrew blinks. “Oh! That’s—that’s wonderful! I mean, not wonderful, like—it’s great that you’re—fuck me, I’m really not good at this, am I?” He laughs to himself as he drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, it’s been a minute since I’ve flirted with anyone, so, please bear with me.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve absolutely no issue, if you’re worried. I appreciate you letting me know, and I don’t want you to feel…well, I hope I don’t come off as the type to be put off by that.”

Butterflies in your stomach force a startled laugh out of you. “There’s hardly a type. It’s more a case-by-case situation. Though, you’ve had the most amusing response so far, I must say.”

Andrew tilts his head. “Does that mean I have competition, then?”

The forthrightness of the question stuns you, but you shake it off and shrug casually. “Perhaps.”

It’s a baldfaced lie. Any suitors you’ve had in the past have been swiftly ghosted or blocked depending on the circumstance. A fair few of them were chasers who only viewed you as a fetishistic fantasy, while others were simply too clingy or wanted to move far too quickly for your taste. The good faith folks you’ve dated haven’t been a great fit either, typically falling into the categories of too boring or too adventurous or too fuckboy for your liking.

Andrew seems different. His awkwardness is endearing, his reaction to your divulsion relatively mild compared to others. He doesn’t seem put off at all, yet he’s not suddenly chomping at the bit to rush you home the way others have previously. He just seems…well, interested. In you.

What a novelty to intrigue someone who is lauded as Ireland’s answer to Bruce Springsteen.

“I suppose I’ll have to find a way to stand out from the crowd, then.” He shrugs before finishing off what remains in his glass, eyeing you in amusement as you try to find a response that isn’t just spluttered sounds.

He looks back towards the outdoor bar, then meets your eyes with a hesitant question on his lips. “What’re you drinking?”

“Jameson,” you reply, shrugging when Andrew gives you a look as though the answer offends him.

“I’ll be right back.” You try to ignore the gooseflesh that breaks out along your arms as his hand gently brushes your shoulder before he’s wandering away towards the bar. You decide to sit on one of the empty couches that’s slightly tucked away from prying eyes. You figure that perhaps some semblance of privacy might make whatever this is more comfortable for both of you.

True to his word, Andrew comes back promptly with two glasses. He hands you a lowball glass full of amber liquid before plopping down next to you, your thighs nearly touching. He seems more at ease now, turning his body to face you. His elbow rests on the back of the couch, his head propped in his hand as he practically beams at you.

“Thank you…” you say warily. “What is it?”

“Try it.” When you frown in response, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “It’s whiskey. Better than Jameson, I promise.”

Upon taking a sip, your eyes go wide, and you turn your surprised expression to him. It’s probably one of the best whiskeys you’ve ever tried—dark but sweet, smoky yet smooth, with the faintest hint of ginger and orange underneath.

“Right?” Andrew asks excitedly. “It’s Redbreast, a single pot whiskey. This one apparently has an 18-year aging process. It’s one of my favorites.”

“So, this whiskey is old enough to drink whiskey. Thank you again, by the way. This is fucking fantastic.”

He shrugs. “Well, I can’t leave you drinking well spirits all night, can I?”

Conversation flows easily after that. Andrew asks you broad questions about your work and laughs as he apologizes for not having more background knowledge. You tell him about growing up watching your dad work, finally getting to assist in his repairs and vintage builds as a teen, and your subsequent attendance to a trade school to follow in his footsteps.

“He was so excited about it,” you laugh. “Even changed the name of the business from McKenna’s Mechanics to McKenna & Sons.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he sighs.

Andrew regails you with tales of his music journey. He explains his short stint at Trinity where he met the resident birthday girl, as well as a handful of other musically-inclined folks. After making the difficult decision to drop out fairly young, his big break came from a right place, right time situation. Two albums later, and he’s finally home after a US tour that nearly killed him by the end.

“You don’t realize how massive that country is until you’re on a bus for 12 hours just to get to the next state over.”

He starts to get a little more bold in his flirtation as his third drink sets in, and your second drink has you feeling giddy, warm, and unsure of how to reciprocate when he rests an hand on your arm while talking about his best friend and musical partner, Alex.

The conversation hits a bump when you work up the nerve to ask another question that’s buzzed around in your mind the entire evening.

“May I ask a personal question?” you ask tentatively.

Andrew blinks, then nods. “Of course.”

“Forgive me, I’m generally out of touch with anything related to the internet these days. But…I hadn’t heard that you, um…? I mean, all of your songs are—they’re about women, yeah? I don’t know, maybe my finger just isn’t on the queer news pulse like it used to be, but that feels like something I’d have heard about.”

You can tell that the question catches him off guard as he looks away to study the twinkling fairy lights strung along the bordering fence.

“Ah, right. That.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to!” you add hastily. “I was just curious, but it’s definitely none of my business.”

“No, no, you’re okay. It’s…complicated. Mostly because it’s more of a…new development. I mean, not—it was always there, but I never…I don’t know, I just never put any stock into it, I suppose.”

“Were you one of those, ‘Yeah, I’d kiss a lad just for kicks, but I’m not gay,’ types?”

With a reddened face and a little laugh, he nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. I thought everyone felt that way, y’know? About finding everyone attractive. I just assumed my own heterosexuality despite the fact that a fair amount of my childhood crushes were boys. And, it’s not like my family is homophobic in any capacity, so you’d think I would have put it together sooner.”

“Hindsight is a funny thing, isn’t it? Looking back on things and realizing how obvious some of those signs were. Like, for me—and, this is going to sound absolutely demented—but I used to fantasize about getting breast cancer when I was a teen.”

Andrew splutters on his drink. “I’m sorry, what?”

You shrug easily. “Dysphoria is a tricky bitch. It makes you think things like that are just standard. Oh, every teenage girl feels that way about their chest. Except, they don’t. Like, at all. In fact, most people react the same way you did when I say that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no worries, you’re fine. What I mean is, it was jarring to learn that most women don’t think that way. Which eventually led me to understand that I am certainly not a woman. It just took the better part of 23 years to put it all together. Which seems mad, right? But, like I said: hindsight.”

Andrew smiles as he lifts his glass to you. “To late bloomers, then.”

You clink your glass to his and nod. “To late bloomers.”

***

When Andrew tentatively asks if you want to dance, you turn to look at the dance floor inside with a grimace. Steam floats out of the open doors, a testament to the sheer amount of bodies mingling together in such a small space. The thought makes you shiver.

“I’m sorry, I’m not much into dancing. Is that okay?”

Thankfully, Andrew looks relieved. “Oh, that’s perfectly okay. I’m not much of a dancer either, but I figured I’d ask in case you were interested.”

Your body is flushed and warm from too much booze, and you can feel sweat begin to break out along your hairline. Andrew looks much the same, grinning as he sways and flips his hair from one side to the other. And, oh, his hand is on your thigh, when did that happen?

Quietly, he asks, “Is this okay?”

You have to look away and clear your throat in an attempt to collect yourself. “Yeah, yes, that’s…perfectly fine.”

He grins brightly, earnestly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Once again, his forthrightness has you stumbling. “And you are an adorable and very flirty drunk.

Andrew gives you a lopsided grin as he shrugs one shoulder. “What was it Karen said? Mischievous and misbehaving?”

“So there’s merit to that, then?”

“Well, it’s not as fun if I just tell you outright, is it?”

Ah, so he’s going to play this game, throwing your own words back at you in an attempt to fluster you further. To be fair, his plan is working as your face burns all the way to the tips of your ears. But, you can’t let him know that he’s winning. This is an unspoken competition now, the defiance and playfulness in his expression urging you to make your next move.

So, you do. He’s stunned when you reach out to cup his chin in one hand. The touch is light, gentle, but it’s enough to stop him in his tracks and stare at you incredulously.

“Well, I think you’re a lot of talk and no action.” When he doesn’t respond, you smirk. “Is this all it takes to shut you up?”

After a beat, he finally opens his mouth, still staring at you with glazed eyes. “I can think of more lucrative ways to do so.”

You can’t help the cackle that escapes you. “Lucrative for who, exactly?”

He shrugs again. “Both of us, I’d guess. I’d hope.” A pause. “You know…we’re staying at the Grafton tonight. Figured it was better to play it safe with Miss ‘Doesn’t Know When to Quit’ over there.”

When you turn back, you spot Karen standing on the bar just inside, waving her arms around excitedly as a bartender tries to coax her down. “I see what you mean.”

“I’ve got my own room,” he continues casually, as though your heart isn’t about to beat through your fucking chest. “If you’d like to see it. Lovely hotel, and the room has an even lovelier view. Though, I can’t imagine anything quite as lovely as you.”

The laugh that escapes you makes him laugh in return, covering his face and shaking his head as he cries, “That was terrible, I’m so sorry. It came out, and I instantly regretted it. So fucking corny. Jesus Christ.”

Some of the tension dissipates as you smile fondly while he tries to recover from his horrible flirting.

“You really are terrible at this,” you jest. “However…I can’t deny that I’m a little curious about this room with a view. But, won’t Karen be upset if you leave her birthday bash?”

Andrew chuckles. “I doubt she’ll even remember at this point.”

After a quick text to his mates and a message to Mason, you find yourself walking the few blocks it takes to get to the Grafton Hotel. You’re surprised when Andrew takes your hand into his despite the fact that he’d mentioned not being the biggest fan of public affection.

There’s some plausible deniability as you use the opportunity to ensure you’re both drunkenly stumbling on the pavement instead of the road, tugging on his hand to keep him close until he wraps his arm around your shoulders entirely. In return, you slip your arm around his waist and try to stay in stride with him while the hotel glitters like a beacon in the night.

After a piss-poor attempt at acting “natural” while shuffling through the opulent lobby, you stumble into an empty elevator. As soon as the doors close, he’s on you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you fervently—a testament to his restraint on the walk over here, surely.

Then, he pulls away just as suddenly, eyes wide as an apology spills out. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—I mean, I should have asked first before—”

You hold a hand up to shush him. “I’m a relative stranger you picked up from a club following you up to your hotel room. While I appreciate the thought, kissing is definitely not an issue.”

The room itself is quite nice, and he wasn’t joking about the view. The city twinkles warmly far below, bustling with a lot more traffic than one might expect for a Thursday night. If you were so inclined, you might suggest sitting out on the balcony for a while just to enjoy the breeze. An idea for another time, perhaps, should Andrew ever want to do this again. (You cringe inwardly at the spark of hope within you that maybe he will.)

When you look back at him, Andrew is watching you carefully, wringing his hands and shifting his weight.

“Are you okay?”

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah! I just…I don’t normally do this, y’know? Hooking up isn’t really…”

“Oh.” You frown. “We don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, I’m just…at a loss of where to start. Also…” A pause. “If there’s anything you don’t want me doing in particular, please let me know.”

You can read between the lines. It’s his way of asking you to guide him through this for the sake of your comfort. It’s sweet, more thoughtful than some of your previous trysts, though you hope he doesn’t treat you so preciously the entire night.

After a beat, you reach out to lightly grasp his wrist, smiling softly when he meets your eyes.

“Why don’t you start by kissing me again, yeah?”

At this, he can’t help his bright, flustered smile as he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s softer and sweeter this time as he holds your face, thumbs brushing through prickly stubble from a haphazard attempt at shaving earlier in the day.

The taste of whiskey and ash is on his tongue, the smell of smoke sticking to his hair. You can almost feel his hesitance melt away as your fingers curl into his hair, as he leans into the kiss with a small whimper. A chill runs down your spine when he kisses along your neck, nipping lightly but not enough to leave any lasting mark. A honeyed laugh in your ear makes your face go hot, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your cock.

Impatient hands shove at his jean jacket until he’s struggling out of it and throwing it to the floor, revealing thin, pale arms with delicate wrists and prominent veins. You marvel at every sharp angle that’s juxtaposed by the softness of his chest, his stomach as you assist in pulling his t-shirt off.

The only coherent thought in your mind isn’t a thought at all, but the primal urge to bite and mark and claim.

Suddenly, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” and he halts his movements to look at you with wide eyes.

“Fuck, I don’t. I didn’t exactly think I was going to hook up with anyone tonight.”

“Damn, neither do I,” you laugh, earning a cheesy, embarrassed smile from him as he shrugs. “No matter. There’s plenty of other things we can do.”

It’s easy enough to get his jeans off once he’s on his back in bed. It seems he’s beginning to understand that he is not the one in charge now, seems to even be delighting in his lack of control. He stares as you slowly undo his belt buckle, hands curled into the sheets beneath him as if it’s the only way he can stop himself from trying to reach out and touch you. With a few giggles and awkward kicks on his part, you finally toss his jeans to the floor.

The outline of his swollen cock is obvious, tenting his black boxers and twitching slightly as you run your hands along his thighs.

You startle when he asks, “Can I see you? You’re wearing far too much.”

And, well…how can you say no when he asked so politely?

As soon as your shirt comes off, his eyes go wide and he blurts out, “Wow. That’s absolutely stunning. The Creation of Adam, yeah?”

He studies your tattoo in fascination as you reply, “Yeah. It’s…a little on the nose, probably. Not the most original scar cover-up ever, but I’m happy with it.”

Andrew huffs a quiet laugh. “I can see how that might be on the nose, yeah. But, I really like it. For whatever that’s worth, I suppose.”

He watches as you pull your jeans off and shuck them aside with the growing pile of clothing on the floor, leaving you in your own boxer briefs that make Andrew chuckle.

“Are those Halloween-themed? Mate…are you aware that it’s May?”

You roll your eyes as you finally crawl into bed, throwing a leg over him and settling on his hips.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t expect to hook up with anyone tonight either. Second, are you always this antagonistic towards your dates?”

Andrew grins. “Is this a date now?”

You bite out a laugh. “Christ, you are a sassy one.”

“Unfortunately, it’s part of the package deal. No returns or refunds.”

“What about an exchange?”

“Mmm, no, sorry. I can offer you store credit?”

You tilt your head. “That implies that I’d be a returning customer.”

He blinks, swallows, his eyes flitting away nervously before looking back at you. “Well, you know, I’m big on…customer loyalty…and what have you…”

“Andrew,” you say with a smile and a shake of your head. “Do you want to keep bantering, or do you want me to blow you?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, yes, that. Let’s do your idea.”

Kisses along his body make him squirm as he stares up at the ceiling in embarrassment. A hand pressed to the bulge in his pants pulls the prettiest sounds from him; the heat of your mouth against cotton, against his swollen length forces him to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his groans. You’re pleased by his reactions—you’ve always loved the vocal ones, and it makes sense that this one would be the most vocal of all.

The trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband is slowly revealed to you as you peel back the fabric, pressing open-mouthed kisses along that line until his cock is exposed. It’s pretty—long, though not dauntingly thick, the tip already red and leaking despite the fact that you’ve done little to elicit this kind of response.

Eager, you think to yourself with a smirk.

The first press of your tongue along the vein that protrudes just on the underside of his cock makes him gasp. He props himself up on his elbows to watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as you take the head into your mouth and suck gently.

He hisses as a hand curls into your hair, as you attempt to take the rest of him without choking or gagging. Your eyes water as you suck in a deep breath through your nose, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by his scent, dizzied by musk, and sweat, and arousal as you swallow him down.

It’s sloppy, messy as you put on a bit of a show in the hopes of impressing him. It seems that your plan is working out quite well as you meet his heavy-lidded gaze from beneath your lashes, and he groans before letting his head tilt back to reveal the expanse of his throat.

“Feels so fucking good…” It comes out as a cracked whisper that breaks into a breathy moan as his fingers tighten their grip on your hair.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and stroke him as you catch your breath. When he looks back at you, his pupils are blown out, nearly eclipsing his irises. He already looks so wrecked, and you wonder just how quickly you can make this man completely fall apart.

“Good?” you ask with a grin.

“Yes, fuck, please don’t stop,” he whines.

With a wink, you pause the movement of your hand long enough to spit onto his cock before stroking him again, faster this time as his hips buck into your hand. Andrew’s lets out a short, feverish laugh before whispering, “Fucking filthy.” It alights something in your brain—something warm and excited as his head falls back against the pillow again, seemingly no longer concerned with holding back as he thrusts into the warmth of your mouth when you take him again.

Any semblance of composure is lost when you gently cup his balls, and he bites out a warning of his impending climax between heaving breaths. Determined, you allow him to nearly fuck your throat until he’s whimpering beneath you, hips snapping up until he he muffles a cry. The warmth of his release fills your mouth, slides down your throat, eyes watering as you continue your assault on him while he rides out every wave of pleasure that rolls through him.

He looks wonderfully sated when he opens his eyes again, smiling when you sit up on your knees between his legs.

“Wow,” he laughs as he rubs his eyes. “How am I supposed to follow that up? Jesus.”

You grin as you lean over him, your arms caging his head as you murmur, “With a smile and a thank you for the privilege.”

His mouth drops open for only a moment before he snaps it shut again. Then, a smirk as he asks, “Would you be amenable to doing it like this, then? I’m pretty sure all of my bones have turned to gelatin.”

You blink in surprise. “You…want me to sit on your face?”

Andrew shrugs. “Only if you want to. I’d say it’s a throne fit for a king, but that just seems egotistical, I think.”

With a barked laugh, you reply, “Yeah, a bit, maybe. But, I love the enthusiasm.”

You sit back up long enough to twist around and discard your own boxers. There’s a brief hesitance as you hype yourself up, that inkling of self-consciousness creeping in the way it always does before being on the receiving end of sex acts. It’s not dysphoria so much as it is the general nervousness of performance and expectation—the same feelings you’ve experienced far before beginning your transition journey.

Andrew must notice this hesitation as he says, “Hey, we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want that.”

“No, I want to, I’m just…are you sure?” It’s an out that you extend almost automatically, a way to protect yourself from rejection and hurt by providing an excuse for him to bail. You’re sure it says something about your own control issues, but you push the thought away to be dealt with later.

With a soft sigh, he pats his chest and beckons you closer, saying, “C’mere so I can suck you off already.”

A warmth blooms in your chest as you cover your giddy embarrassment with a laugh. Shuffling on your knees, you move closer, pause, then straddle his face carefully, hovering just above him until his arms are locked around your thighs.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

Before you can reply, you feel his tongue on your cock, and you fall forward to brace against the headboard.

“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to squeak out as he takes it into his mouth and begins sucking gently. Tears form in your eyes as pleasure shoots up your spine, teetering on the edge of too much as he works. You find yourself absentmindedly thrusting into the feeling, unable to hold back the moans and whines that bubble up.

If he’s never done this before, then his mouth is truly gifted. His tongue teases just below the head, pressing gently as you whimper above him. Arousal slicks his mouth as he feasts on you like a starving man, and you curl a hand into his hair to encourage him further. A slight tug pulls a strangled moan from him, his grip tightening on your thighs as though he’s worried you might try to get away.

He pulls away briefly to catch his breath, licking his shining lips as he asks, “Are you okay with—? Do you like being touched?”

You understand his meaning almost immediately. “Yes, please, fuck.”

One hand releases your thigh, and suddenly two fingers slip into you with ease. You choke on a moan as you push back against them. Your brain and body struggle then, trying to decide between pushing into that pressure as he fills you or grinding against his face. Heat begins to build in your abdomen. Every thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue brings you closer and closer to that edge.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you pant out.

All it takes is an errant thumb against your ass, and you’re suddenly falling over the edge, shaky thighs attempting to snap shut as you gasp and cry out. Andrew keeps you in place, doesn’t allow you to move as continues sucking your cock while you clench around him. Expletives fall from your lips mixed with his name, and you nearly choke on a sob as you smack at the top of his head with a breathy, “Stopstopstop, fuck, too much, too much.”

Andrew stops immediately and withdraws his fingers with a chuckled apology. Once he’s released his grip on you, you gently fall onto your back next to him.

“Wow,” you breathe, looking over to grin at him.

“Decent?” he asks. His smug look tells you he knows exactly how well he did.

You roll your eyes and give him a gentle shove to his shoulder. “I’m afraid if I answer that honestly, you won’t be able to fit your giant ego through the door.”

There’s a part of you that expects him to rush you out, but Andrew doesn’t really seem inclined to do so. Instead, he invites you to scoot beneath the duvet with him, lying on your side to face him as he mirrors your position.

Then, he’s asking questions, probing into your likes and dislikes, your favorite music, favorite films, favorite books. Andrew nods along as you speak, eyes wide in an expression you’d liken to veneration. You return his questions in kind, delighted by the way he seems to light up when discussing his musical interests throughout his childhood and adolescence, and his proxy interest in film thanks to his brother.

A chime on your phone breaks the warm bubble of your conversation, and you groan as you reach back to grab it from the bedside table.

Mason

HEY DICKHEAD

DID YOU FUCKIN IRISH GOODBYE ME

IN IRELAND

AS AN IRISH MAN

You

Sure did mate.

Mason

JUDAS

Can’t believe this

I HOPE THE DICK WAS WORTH IT

I want details tomorrow you fuckin scut

“Something wrong?” Andrew asks hesitantly.

You look up at him and shake your head with a little laugh. “Nah, just my roommate being…my roommate. Took him this long to figure out that I’d even left.”

“Oh…do you have to go, then?” There’s something so sweet about the sullenness in his voice, evoking an image of Eeyore in your mind.

“I don’t.” You shake your head. “I can stay as long as you’ll allow it.”

“Careful now,” he says easily as he reaches out to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Otherwise you may never be rid of me.”

#hozier fic #hozier x reader #sailor scout stories #hozier smut #edit: removed a line from previous draft that got left there by accident

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