#clearly i need to shave my head again too

[pucksandpower]

No Nut November

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando made a bet with his friends to give No Nut November a try but, as his girlfriend, you have other plans

Warnings: 18+ content and Lando shaving his head

You can’t believe Lando is actually going through with this. When he first told you about his silly bet with the other Quadrant guys to see who can go the longest without “nutting” in November, you thought he was joking.

But no, he insists he has to see it through now.

You roll your eyes in exasperation, “Babe, this is ridiculous. You know I have needs too.”

Lando just laughs and pulls you into a hug. “It’s just a month, love. We’ll be fine.”

“A whole month though? I’ll explode!” You whine dramatically.

He kisses your forehead. “You can manage, I believe in you.”

The first week actually goes smoothly enough. You figure you can handle this if you really try. Maybe it will even be good for your relationship, taking a break from the physical stuff for a bit.

But soon the desire starts creeping up on you more and more. Laying in bed one night, you roll over and start kissing Lando’s neck. He makes a small noise of protest and scoots away. “Come on, Y/N, you know we can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “But Lando, I need you.” Your hands start to wander under the sheets.

He catches your wrist gently. “Nuh uh, that’s against the rules.”

“Screw the rules!” You cry in exasperation.

Lando just shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile. “Stay strong, love. Only three more weeks to go.”

As the days pass, you get more and more worked up. Everything Lando does seems to turn you on now — the way he bites his lip in concentration, the flex of muscles when he lifts weights, even just the sound of his laugh.

One day after his workout, you’re waiting when he gets out of the shower, wearing his favorite lingerie set.

His eyes widen at the sight, but he steels himself. “That’s not going to work but I appreciate the effort,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You let out a dramatic wail. “Lando, please, I’m losing my mind here!”

He just keeps teasingly shaking his head as you continue your onslaught of pleading and temptation. You try every trick and tactic you can think of but he refuses to give in.

As November drags on, you’re utterly frustrated. At this point, it’s become a game and you’re determined not to lose. There’s no way Lando can hold out for the whole month when you look this damn good!

One evening, you decide to pull out all the stops. As Lando’s cooking dinner, you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Standing on your tiptoes, you begin kissing his neck the way you know drives him crazy.

He tenses up immediately. “Y/N ...” he says warningly.

“Shhh ...” You whisper. “Just focus on cooking. I’ll stop if you really want me to.” Even as you say it, your hands drift lower, teasing along the waistband of his shorts.

Lando’s breath hitches but he keeps stirring the pasta valiantly. You continue with your ministrations, feathering kisses across his shoulders. When you nip his earlobe, he lets out a low groan.

“That’s it baby, you know you want this,” you purr. Your fingers dip below the elastic of his briefs to tease along his hip bones.

Lando curses under his breath, his resolve clearly weakening. You seize the opportunity to deepen the kisses, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. Your other hand trails up his chest, fingertips circling over his shirt.

“Y/N, please—” he gasps out. The pasta is now dangerously close to boiling over but neither of you care anymore.

Grinning in triumph, you spin Lando around and crash your lips to his in a searing kiss. He kisses you back feverishly, his hands coming up to cup your face as he walks you backward toward the bedroom.

***

Lando kicks the bedroom door shut behind you as his lips meet yours again hungrily. All thoughts of No Nut November are clearly out the window now.

Your hands fumble urgently with the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug it over his head. He returns the favor, peeling off your top and bra in one smooth motion.

Skin pressing against skin, you both groan at the contact you’ve been craving. Lando’s hands grip your hips, steering you toward the bed until the back of your legs hit the mattress. You let yourself fall backward, pulling him down on top of you.

Your lips find each other again as your hands explore eagerly. Lando kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that makes you squirm against him.

“God I’ve missed this,” you breathe out as his fingers trail over your breast.

He hums in agreement, his touch lighting sparks across your skin. Your back arches off the bed as his mouth closes over your nipple.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you guide him lower, gasping when his lips reach the waistband of your leggings. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly.

In one smooth motion he tugs them off, followed swiftly by your underwear. You’re completely bare before him now and trembling in anticipation.

Lando’s eyes drink you in hungrily. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls before diving in.

You cry out as his tongue finds your clit, gripping the sheets tightly. He works you expertly, ramping up the pressure until you are writhing and moaning. Your orgasm builds fast and hard, his name tumbling from your lips.

“Yes, yes Lando! Don’t stop!” You pant out. Your climax crashes over you powerfully, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Lando works you through it gently before moving back up to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you impossibly more turned on.

Reaching for his belt, you make quick work of the rest of his clothes. Taking him in your hand, you stroke him firmly as he groans into your mouth.

“Need you ... now,” you gasp out urgently.

Lando lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes questioning. You nod eagerly and he pushes inside you slowly. You both moan long and low at the feeling of him filling you up.

He sets a steady rhythm, rocking into you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. The coil in your core starts building again right away.

“Faster, Lando, please,” you beg. He obliges, snapping his hips quicker. You drag your nails down his back making him shudder.

The sound of skin slapping on skin and your mingled moans fill the room. You can tell Lando is getting close by the way he tenses and swells inside you.

Reaching down between you, he circles your clit rapidly. “Come on baby, come with me,” you urge him on. Your words send him over the edge with a choked groan.

His release triggers your second powerful orgasm, your walls contracting around him.

You cling to each other, riding out the aftershocks together. Lando collapses on top of you, nuzzling into your neck. You stroke his hair gently, holding him close.

“Guess you lost the bet,” you tease after a moment.

He chuckles against your skin. “So worth it.”

You tilt his chin up to kiss him softly, filled with love and contentment. Who cares about some silly internet challenge anyway? You and Lando have all you need right here.

***

The next morning, you wake up tangled in Lando’s arms, smiling at the memories of last night. Stretching contentedly, you roll over to face him.

“Good morning,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him.

He kisses you back softly. “Morning, love.”

You run your fingers through his curls. “I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated your hair more than I did last night,” you say with a grin.

Lando laughs but then his expression turns serious. “About that ... there’s something I should tell you about the bet.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Part of the deal was that the first one to fail No Nut November has to shave their head,” he admits.

“What? No!” You gasp, clutching protectively at his hair. “You are not shaving these beautiful curls, I forbid it!”

He sighs. “I don’t want to but I made a deal. The lads will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t follow through.”

You pout dramatically. “Can’t you just lie and say you succeeded? They never need to know!”

Lando shakes his head. “They’d see right through me. I’m rubbish at lying.”

“But your hair ...” you whine sadly.

“It will grow back,” he assures you, though he doesn’t look happy about it either.

You bite your lip, thinking hard. “What if you just don’t tell them we had sex? Then as far as they know, you’re still in the running and you don’t have to shave your head! Don’t think of it as lying … think of it as omitting the truth.”

He considers this. “I guess that could work as long as they don’t find out somehow.”

“Exactly! Our secret is safe with me,” you swear solemnly. Crisis averted!

Later that day when Lando hops on stream with the Quadrant guys, you make yourself scarce to avoid any accidental slip-ups.

Lando greets his friends cheerfully. “Alright mates, how’s everyone holding up?”

“Still going strong,” Max Fewtrell reports. “You?”

“Yep, all good here,” Lando lies smoothly.

You listen from the other room, praying they don’t notice anything amiss. But a few minutes later, you hear Max exclaim “Lando, what’s that on your neck?”

Lando sounds flustered. “What? Nothing!”

“That’s definitely a hickey! He’s got hickies all over!” Max crows. “You broke, didn’t you Norris?”

You gasp, realizing in horror that you must have left marks last night.

Lando tries to deny it but eventually crumbles under their interrogation. “Alright fine, I gave in. But don’t tell Y/N that I told you!”

Raucous laughter ensues, followed by teasing demands that he shave his head immediately.

You rush in frantically. “No, stop! It was my fault, I seduced him!” You blurt out.

More laughter. “Wow mate, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger!”

Lando rubs his neck ruefully. “Yeah, couldn’t resist her even with the bet.” He winks at you.

You bite your lip guiltily. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

He just smiles and pulls you into his lap. “I’d lose every bet in the world for you.”

Ignoring his cheering friends, he kisses you tenderly. You sigh happily, running your fingers through his curls one last time.

If this bet means sacrificing his lovely locks, you’re definitely making up for it tonight.

***

Despite your pleas and protests, Lando is determined to go through with the bet.

“I gave my word, love. Gotta shave it off,” he says, giving you an apologetic look.

You pout sadly. “I can’t believe I’m losing your beautiful curls because of my lack of self-control.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him. “Hey, no blaming yourself. I’m the idiot who made the bet in the first place.”

Lando retrieves his electric razor while you perch on the bathroom counter’s edge, watching mournfully. Taking a deep breath, he turns it on and brings it to his head.

You gasp as the first patch of hair falls away. “No, wait!” You cry, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Your lower lip quivers. “I can’t watch this. It’s too traumatic!”

Lando laughs and wraps you in a hug. “Oh darling, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

You cling to him dramatically. “But I love your hair so much!” Running your hands through his soft curls one last time, you sigh. “At least let me help, so I can savor every last strand.”

He smiles and hands you the razor. With a heavy heart, you get to work shaving off his glorious locks. You go slowly, offering up little eulogies along the way.

“Goodbye right sideburn, you always looked so sharp.”

“Farewell beautiful crown curls, so bouncy and free!”

Lando tries not to laugh at your antics. “It’s not dying, love, it’s just hair.”

“Shush, let me mourn in peace,” you sniffle.

As the last section of hair falls away, you set down the razor with a forlorn sigh. Lando runs his hand over his newly bare head and checks himself in the mirror.

“Well, what do you think?” He asks.

You bite your lip, holding back a groan. He looks so ... bald.

Lando frowns at your expression. “That bad, huh?”

“No, no!” You assure him. “Just different. I’ll get used to it.” You manage a weak smile.

He grins and pulls you close. “Don’t worry, I’m still the same Lando underneath.” To demonstrate, he begins trailing kisses down your neck.

You shudder involuntarily. “But ... what will I hold onto now when you’re going down on me?” You ask with distress.

Lando barks out a laugh. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he promises, nipping at your earlobe.

Despite your mood, you can’t help but melt under his touch. You supposed you could get used to your bald Lando, though you already miss tugging on those luscious curls.

Later that night, Lando makes good on his promise to prove he can still drive you wild, hair or no hair. And as you lay tangled up afterward, blissfully sated, you have to admit — he still has some serious skills.

Running your hand over his stubbly head, you grin mischievously. “Well done, Mr. Worldwide.”

He gives you a confused look. “What?”

“You know, like Pitbull!” You laugh. “The bald head reminds me of him. I’ll have to come up with more bald nicknames now.”

Lando groans playfully. “What have I gotten myself into?” But he’s smiling as he pulls you in for another deep kiss.

***

It’s the morning of the Las Vegas Grand Prix and you’re with Lando in the paddock for his pre-race interviews. He’s got a cap pulled down over his head but it’s not enough to stop the questions.

“Lando, you’re looking a bit different today,” the reporter remarks with a wry smile. “What’s with the new hairstyle?”

Lando tugs the cap lower, laughing awkwardly. “Oh you know, just felt like a change.”

“A pretty drastic change though, no? Don’t think we’ve ever seen you with a shaved head before.” The reporter presses further.

“Ah, well ...” Lando trails off, glancing at you sheepishly. You give him an encouraging nod, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Let’s just say I lost a bet and leave it at that,” Lando finally mutters.

The reporter looks like he wants to inquire further but Lando steers the conversation to the race ahead. You let out a relieved breath, glad the subject seems to have been dropped.

But after the interview, a boisterous voice rings out behind you. “Oi, Lando! Heard you lost No Nut November!”

You and Lando whirl around to see Daniel Ricciardo sauntering over, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Lando groans. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdie named Max Verstappen who heard from Alex who heard from George,” Daniel chuckles. “So come on, give us the details! Was it the work of this lovely lady here?” He winks at you exaggeratedly.

You know your face must be scarlet now. Lando just stammers helplessly, which makes Daniel laugh harder.

“No need to be shy! Happens to all of us.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Though gotta say mate, I’m impressed you even made it close to halfway. If I had a girl like that waiting at home? Wouldn’t last a week!”

“Daniel!” Lando blurts out but he’s fighting back laughter now too. You bury your face in Lando’s shoulder, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“In fact ...” Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Reckon you deserve a prize for making it through 14 days. Most blokes wouldn’t make it past five! Here ...”

He reaches up and plops his AlphaTauri cap onto Lando’s head. “A trophy for your noble efforts!”

Lando swats him away, snickering. “Piss off, mate.”

“Just spreading the love!” Daniel calls over his shoulder as he saunters off. “And remember — November is for nutting, not for nothing!”

Lando shakes his head, still chuckling. “Unbelievable. Remind me why I’m friends with him again?”

You finally lift your flushed face from his shoulder. “Because he’s ridiculous in the best way and makes everything fun?” You offer with a giggle.

“Too right, love.” Lando smiles and pulls you into a quick kiss. “Now wish me luck today, yeah? I’m off to claim my real trophy!”

You smoothe down his new AlphaTauri cap and kiss him again for extra luck. Even through your lingering embarrassment, Daniel’s antics have lifted the mood. And Lando does look pretty darn cute in that cap. Time to go get that podium!

***

By some miracle, Lando takes the chequered flag in Vegas, earning his first ever Formula 1 race win.

The team is ecstatic, mobbing him in the pits and spraying champagne everywhere. You’re jumping up and down, screaming yourself hoarse.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Lando yanks off his helmet and balaclava, his shiny bald head gleaming with sweat. Fisting the air triumphantly, he looks like the happiest man alive.

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a blur of joyful chaos. Lando can’t stop beaming, gazing at the trophy in his hands like he can’t believe it’s real.

Finally you get him alone in his driver’s room, immediately jumping into his arms and kissing him fiercely. “You did it!” You shout gleefully.

Lando laughs, spinning you around. “I actually did it! This is the best day ever!”

You cup his face in your hands. “I’m so proud of you.” Kissing him again, you murmur, “Now it’s time for us to celebrate properly.”

A grin spreads across Lando’s face. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

In response, you lead him toward the couch, peeling off his race suit and fireproofs along the way. You push him down on the leather, straddling his waist and capturing his lips hungrily.

Lando responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body. As you move together, his touches feel extra electrifying in the wake of his triumph.

Afterward, you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow. Lando presses soft kisses to your hair. “You were right, this is the perfect way to celebrate.”

You laugh, snuggling closer. “Mmhmm, I’m full of good ideas.”

He runs a hand over his head contemplatively. “You know, I think this new aerodynamic look might actually be my good luck charm. Maybe I should keep it?”

You bolt upright, glaring down at him in horror. “Don’t you dare! This is a temporary tragedy we must endure but the curls will return.”

Lando chuckles at your reaction. “Relax, love. I’m only joking.” He tugs you back down, nuzzling your neck. “Trust me, I miss my hair as much as you do. The second November ends, the curls are coming back.”

“Good,” you huff. “Bald is a very sexy look on some people but on you it’s just ... wrong.” You place a hand on his cheek. “I miss running my fingers through those soft locks. Your hair has always been one of my favorite things about you.”

Lando smiles up at you tenderly. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll have your handsy little mitts full of my curls again before you know it.”

“I better,” you threaten playfully. “And you’ll look as dashing as ever.”

You kiss him again, conveying all the pride and affection overflowing from your heart. No matter what hairstyle he’s rocking, Lando is your champion. Though you can’t wait to see those luscious honey-brown curls again.

[323cutie]

6:52 pm | song mingi

fluff, suggestive. 550 words.

a/n anyone else feel betrayed by the marie claire photoshoot... Cover them up slut.

“You’re sick,” you mumble the second Mingi’s in your sights. He’s halfway through taking off his shoes at the front door and you’re livid, stomping over to him with your arms crossed over your chest. He stares at you, wide-eyed, slowly bending over to take off his shoe and then stand by your front door awkwardly, hands clasped in front of him.

He asks, “what?”

“Sick!” You answer, pointing a finger at him. He flinches like you do physical damage. “Do you know how many people are out there looking at you?”

Mingi sighs, but follows you further into your apartment, standing by the counter as you enter your kitchen to finish making dinner. “Baby,” he starts, and you huff. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

You check the stew bubbling on the stove, give it a few short stirs before popping a lid on and turning the heat down so it simmers. “First it was your stupid, slutty little waist,” you say, cleaning up the scraps of onion and shavings of carrots, shoving them into your trash can and ignoring Mingi’s semi-scandalized look. You remember that photoshoot clearly, practically carved into the inside of your skull – the all denim fit, the delicious curve of his silhouette, perfect tummy on display with the help of his top. “Now it’s your stupid, slutty collarbones –”

Mingi laughs and you glare, and he covers his mouth. “Thin ice, Song Mingi,” you threaten, watching as he steps closer to you. “Pull something like this again and who knows what’ll happen.”

“Like what?” He asks with a small smirk, hands reaching for your own in between you. “You’ll start acting like a brat again? Get all jealous?”

You open your mouth to say something but are evidently speechless, feeling a hot rush of something kin to embarrassment creep up your neck and ears. No way to defend yourself, you huff, because, well. Yeah, probably. Not much else you can do when your boyfriend happens to be the hottest man in the world. You turn your head away from him like it might help.

Mingi hums and easily presses a kiss to your cheek, one of his hands leaving yours and cradling the other side of your face. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your skin again, then down to the edge of your jaw, your chin. “My stupid, slutty body is all yours.”

It makes you snort out a laugh, turning your head back to face him again. He’s fond, you can tell, enraptured by your semi-serious display of possession. His equally semi-serious reassurance comes through loud and clear. “I come home to you every night, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”

“Hmm,” you start, pretending to think hard. Mingi's smile grows each second that passes. “Maybe I can forgive you this time, then.”

Mingi giggles with you and kisses you once, twice, three times on the lips before you’re laughing too hard to really press your lips to his. You push him away with the excuse of finishing dinner but he stays close, arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you tend to the stew on the stove.

(Maybe later you’ll convince him to make it up to you. You think seeing him on his knees in person is much more deserving of your forgiveness than a photo.)

[occamstfs]

Legacies Are Supposed To Change

Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam

My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.

The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.

Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker. 

The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I  am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all. 

I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.

I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.

I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It  would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.

Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.

Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?

My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.

Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?

I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass. 

I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.

I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway. 

I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.

I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!

[nexysworld]

Summary: Toji is returned to you, beat up after a job, he comforts you the best way he knows how. Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Face Riding/Sitting, Fem Receiving Oral, Light mentions of being injured, Hurt Comfort. Happy ending, drabble. WC: 1.1K

Read on AO3 || Ask Box

A/N: This is a quick one dedicated to one of the best people I know @dollfacefantasy. Thank you to @gigabyte-flare, @explorevenus, @kaitkatme and @d10nyx for beta reading.

Toji had always refused to tell you what he really did for a living, and while it didn’t take a genius to know it was less-than-legal, you never thought that it would end with him hurt so badly. He was a tank of a man, and you always assumed that meant he was impenetrable. 

If only.

Lying there covered from the neck down in bandages, he still managed to look handsome. Eyes closed, his pointed features relaxed as he snored lightly, chest rising with the even rhythm of his breathing. “Idiot.” You said, reaching out to touch his cheek. It was the first time you’d touched him in hours. When Shiu had dumped him back at your shared apartment, you were scared he’d shatter under your fingertips. “Good mornin’ to you too, Mamas.” His voice was hoarse and he hadn’t bothered to open his eyes. “How are you feeling?” “Not great. Not the worst I’ve ever been.” The thought of that made your shudder. “ You had me worried so bad, I should’ve killed you myself.” “It’s cute you think you could.” “Shut up.” You leaned down to press your lips to his. “Just, shut up.” “Kiss me again, and I might.” You didn’t waste time, capturing him in another needy kiss. You let your lips linger on his, eyes fluttering shut as you took in the feeling of him. The scar on the corner of his mouth, the slight chappyness of his compared to your soft ones. It was him. It was Toji.

Having pulled back just a few inches, you felt his calloused thumb run over your cheek. “You’re cryin’, Mamas. Did I really scare you that much?” You couldn’t speak, fighting off your tensing face muscles from scrunching up into that childlike ugly cry. “Yeah, you did.” “Let me distract ya then. Been too long without tastin’ my pretty baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Seriously? You can barely sit up, and you’re already talking about getting laid, typical.” “My face is feelin’ cold, figured you could warm it up… wait actually now that I think about it my whole head’s been feelin’ a little cold.” The one arm he could move, reached up to pat the top of his head. You winced as you watched him make the discovery himself. It had been a shocker to you when you first saw it, but those inky blank locks were gone. “Where’s my fuckin’ hair?!” You flinched slightly at his tone. “Shiu said that the sorcerer who did this to you shaved it, like a battle tradition or something. I mean…..it kind of suits you, sexy in a real Vin Diesel kind of way.” You offered, your own words not as confident as you wanted them to be. Really though, he was still handsome to you, he was your man…just now he was your very shiny bald headed man. He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not finding the amusement or reassurance in your words. “Hop up.” “You really want me to?” “Yeah, need a distraction for myself now.” “If you insist.” You moved from where you were seated, discarding your clothing as quickly as you could. While normally you’d have taken the time to tease him, show off a bit, you both were clearly in a rush to be connected to each other. It was a bit awkward, but you managed to seat yourself over his head without disturbing any of his injuries, a death grip on the headboard kept you “That’s it, Mamas.” He murmured against your thigh. He brought his good hand up to squeeze your thigh to coax you down. Normally there’d be more space for you to see what you’re doing, but with his lack of mobility or real support, you were going in blind. The first time you lowered yourself, your clit bumped his nose, you gasped slightly from the quick flicker of warmth it pulled from you. “Sorry.” You mumbled, lifting yourself up again. This time, you missed again, wet folds coming into contact with the smoothness of his forehead. You almost went to try for a third time until you adjusted slightly and realized it felt good. The expanse of his forehead, including the small wrinkles above his brow bumped against your clit in a way you’d never felt before. 

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back as you tested the waters again, grinding down against his forehead, the lack of hair giving you more room to drag your sensitive bud over. It was similar to how you imagined the feeling of rutting against his abs or thigh, but without the friction of body hair. “Uh, what are ya doin’?” 

The sound of his voice snapped you back to the moment. “Oh god sorry.” Despite your words, your hips moved on their own, wet folds gliding across his head. “You’re nowhere near my mouth, ya know that, right?” “Yeah, yeah….yeah, I know…just god it feels amazing.” You could sense the confusion on his face from the way his brows came together beneath your aching need. “S’okay, right?” “Might blind me with your juices.” He said, though his voice gave clear indicators that he wasn’t sure what was going on still. “I-I can stop.” You rutted down in a circle motion this time, and it was almost enough to send you over your peak.

“Don’t do that. If ya feel good, then ya feel good, can’t take that away from my baby. Just promise to let me get a taste before you hop off.” “D-deal.” You muttered, tossing your head back as you humped his fleshy cueball.”Gonna cum…gonna cum…” You whined, head lolling back, knuckles white and legs shaking as you finally found your desperate release. 

As promised, before sliding off, you pushed yourself as best you could with your jello legs farther down, allowing him the chance to lap at your sensitive wetness. “Fuck, think ya nearly waterboarded me. Can’t even open my eyes.” 

“Sorry…” You said sheepishly, the post nut clarity sinking in and reminding you that shame existed. “Don’t be, meant it as a compliment. You taste just as good as I remember too.”

Sliding off the bed, you reached for your discarded shirt, using it to blot your wetness from his face so he could at least open his eyes. “Another perk, looks like it polished you right up.” You joked, swirling the cottony fabric around his head as if you were doing it to a new bowling ball. 

He rolled his eyes in response, but that huge smile he was known for was painted on his face despite himself. “You owe me a blowjob for that one.” 

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

On a razor's edge.

Gif credits

Pairing/Au: Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak.

Word counts: 3087

Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: Joel helps you shave. there.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with very little plot, established relationship, soft Joel, Joel helps to shave your pussy (I also wrote it in the fic but I'll repeat it here, I don't mean to judge anyone's habits, I respect everyone's tastes and habits and everyone can do what they prefer with their body. Do you want to shave? Good. Don't you want it? Good too. For me it's enough that you are comfortable in your body and if you aren't I hope you can be soon), mention to reader's mom who is annoying about shaving, use of a razor, mention of a potential razor cut (it doesn't happen, there’s no blood), unprotected p in v (wrap it up IRL!), I didn't mention Joel or reader’s age but in my mind I imagine them both around 30/40, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, no other specific description of her is given, pussy pronouns, references to pussy as a flower, sex in the shower, oral (f receiving), cream pie, pet names (baby, honey), I think that's all, if by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

English is not my first language, no beta, no proofreading, I already know I'm going to notice a lot of mistakes as soon as I post this and I will have to edit again and again because I'm like this, what can we do? 💀

Comments, reblogs and interactions are very much appreciated, please be kind.

Thanks to anyone who will read this!

You love Joel.

You really love him with all your heart and soul.

You also love your private time in the bathroom, that little time in your day that you spend alone doing skincare, face masks, tweezers your eyebrows, scrubbing your body and taking a nice shower with your favorite music playing in the background.

You just took off your favorites eye patches and you're ready to shave with your trusted razor when Joel knocks on the door.

“Honey, we’re going to be late, hurry up” His voice is muffled by the closed door but you can clearly hear a certain apprehension.

You hum as you take out your shaving cream and reply, “I’ll be right there”

Your neighbor invited you to his pool party the other day and of course you enthusiastically accepted.

It’s been so hot lately that being able to enjoy his pool for a while seemed like a dream.

Unfortunately, work kept you busy all week so you couldn't make an appointment with the beautician and you've arrived today with a few hairs on your legs and in your bikini area.

You're not particularly concerned when you can't wax and totally respect those who don't, hair removal is a personal choice and everyone should be able to do what they want with their own body.

Joel doesn't care if you have them or not, he's happy to have you either way and is feral with you regardless. In fact, you suspect he especially likes it when you have some down there but still he never stopped you from choosing for yourself and he never made inappropriate comments.

Anyway, today you planned to wear your favorite bikini and you wouldn't feel comfortable with hair sticking out from the sides of your bottoms.

The fact that a woman must necessarily be hairless down there is something that has been instilled in you since you were a teenager and as much as you manage not to care about it most of the time, when you wear a bikini you still have your mother's voice in your ears telling you to make those hairs disappear.

Ugh, your mother.

You shake your head, get in the shower and wash yourself, body and hair.

Then you spread the shaving foam well on your legs. You pass the razor carefully and rinse.

This neighbor is quite wealthy and Joel has heard that he would like to renovate his house so he is fully intent on offering him a quote with his construction company, which is why he is so worried about being late.

He needs some time to approach him until there are not too many people, have a casual chat and throw out the idea.

You also want to make a good impression since his wife is the head of the neighborhood committee and you want to ask her to convince the neighbor next door to cut down some branches that end up right in your yard filling it with annoying leaves. You tried to talk to him yourself but he is a cheap man and doesn’t want to spend money to have a gardener come and do the work. Joel tried too but to no avail.

Joel, on the other side of the door, is still impatient "baby, what are you doing?" you hear him ask after another 10 minutes have passed.

“I’m getting ready,” you say out loud from the shower as you check to make sure there’s no hair left on your ankles.

“You’ve been in there for an hour, what else do you have to do?”

You giggle, Joel will never understand how long it takes to be the way he always sees you. He’s in the bathroom for a maximum of 20 minutes when he decides to trim his beard, otherwise 10 minutes is more than enough for him to take a shower and come out with a towel around his waist looking as beautiful as a God. It’s so unfair.

“I'm making myself beautiful for you” you shout at him smiling at the thought of his answer which in fact comes exactly as you imagined “Love, you're gorgeous, you don't need to do anything, just get out of there”

“I'm almost done,” you reply as you begin to spread the foam on your bikini area.

“You said the same thing 10 minutes ago and yet you're still there,” he grumbles “and I don't hear water running so I don't understand why”

“You don't understand ‘cause you're a man darling, it's not your fault” you grin while you carefully run the razor to the right of your sex, at the point where your leg attaches to your pelvis.

You can clearly see him in your head rolling his eyes, hands on his hips, his weight resting on his right leg while his left leg is slightly jutted forward, his typical pose when he's annoyed.

“Cut me some slack, baby, you know how much I care about getting this job” he replies

“Yeah I know” you say sweetly “but I can’t come around like that, I need to be extra pretty next to you”

At this point he opens the door, just enough to enter and as he does so he replies "no one has a prettier girlfriend than me, I don't know how many more times I have to tell you"

You're all busy shaving so you don't even notice him until you hear his voice closer than before.

You look up and jump, almost cutting yourself with the razor. “Are you crazy?!” you yell at him. “Joel, I almost cut my thigh because of you!”

“And how was I supposed to know?!” his expression is halfway between embarrassed and horny, his eyes scan your body as if it were the first time he's seeing it, his pupils are dilated, his jaw muscles tense and his lips tight on the verge of curling into a smile, you can see it growing at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing you like this, leaning against the shower wall, completely naked and with nipples hardened from the fright he gave you, his nerves are going away.

“So, what? I have to finish, I certainly can’t go around with only a small part of my bikini area shaved, can I?” you rumble at him feigning irritation but oh, you like the way he's looking at you, hungry and feral. And you like that particular dark shade his eyes take on when they're lit up with desire.

He frowns and asks, “Can I help you?” rubbing his neck.

“Doing this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, moving from the wall to the center of the shower, razor still clutched in your hand “Joel…”

“Let me try,” he murmurs hoarsely

“Joel, if you cut me…” you say feeling a shiver down your spine, your eyes fixed on his, sparkling in anticipation.

“I won’t. I promise” He is deadly serious.

“Okay” you say with a sigh and you immediately regret having said it.

Joel takes the razor from your hands brushing your fingers slightly and then drop to his knees fully dressed on the wet shower floor without even thinking about it, as if in some kind of lascivious trance. At least he’s barefoot.

The deal, the job, the money seem like a distant, faded memory and the neighbor’s tree? You’ll think about it another day.

His heavy breathing crackles on your skin as he brings the razor close to your skin with the most intent look you've ever seen him do.

He starts with small movements from the bottom up and shaves a small portion of the left side of your pubic area, his hand is firm and precise and he doesn't seem to have any hesitation, however he is proceeding with caution and you are grateful for it, you have been holding your breath since he started.

The razor seems so small in his hand, like a child's toy, yet it has sharp blades that could cut you at any moment if his movements were not precise.

He pulls it away from your skin to shake off excess shaving foam and rinse it under the flexible shower head and you catch your breath.

You flinch for a moment as he brings the razor closer again, “stay still” he tells you in a peremptory voice.

There is something deeply erotic in what he is doing, in his calm and dedication, in his deep knowledge of every curve of your body. It seems like he knows exactly how to move his hand so as not to hurt you.

He rinses the part, then proceeds to take more foam and spread it tickling your skin with his calloused fingers. You're even impressed that he didn't put too much on, just a thin layer, so he can see the part and have full control of what he's doing.

His jeans are now soaked and stuck to his legs and you can see a bulge growing in his crotch.

He stretches your skin with his fingers and runs the razor over you, still in small motions, shaking it, finishing the sides of the top of your pubic bone.

“I need you to lay down, baby, I have to do the bottom part” he says tilting his head to one side to look better at what he has just done.

Joel himself wanted this shower to be big enough for two people, it's his job and he knows how to be far-sighted in this.

It is wide enough for you to lie down and for him to sit between your legs without difficulty.

You bend down and lay your back on the floor “spread your legs” he tells you “keep them raised”

The floor is cool and wet against your skin but you still feel heated.

You crane your neck to look at him and his eyes are focused, deciding how to position you to do the job.

He takes your ankles and bends your legs slightly, if it was a moment when you wanted to laugh you would say that you look like a frog but now you feel like a rose of flesh. A bold, cheeky flower that has blossomed for him.

“Stay like this, can you?”

You nod because you can’t do anything else, you don’t know what to say, you’re hypnotized by his deep breathing and his eyes.

You feel a pulse between your legs.

A heat that starts to rise from below.

He smears a thin veil of foam on the inside of your thighs near your pubic area, he runs his fingers almost absentmindedly near your folds, you know that every movement is thought out, he's purposely ignoring your pussy so he doesn't lose his concentration but you can feel desire creeping through the air between you.

It's thick, heavy, and smells of your perfume that invades your nostrils now that you're playing the obscene dancer for him, with your legs bent as if you had to warm up your muscles before a show.

He draws your edges with the razor, rinsing continuously, you feel the blade glide over you, darting across your skin, only slightly resisting to your roughest hairs.

You feel a glimmer of clear drool dripping between your petals, all the way down to the crack of your butt, that gives away your eagerness.

A couple more gentle swipes and he's done.

You can hear him swallowing nervously, your throat is dry too.

“All done” he whispers, running his fingers over your smooth skin.

You sit up, legs at the sides of his body and tug at his shirt to give him a kiss. You suck his bottom lip between yours, tasting his minty flavor.

You dwell on that ecstatic feeling for a while before you let go of his lips and take a breath back into your lungs.

“Do you want me to shave it all off?” Sometimes you do, you like it when you feel just the soft, just that, that tingles every time he runs his tongue over it.

Shiny as egg white, voracious, naked luscious lips ready to salivate and swallow until they’re full.

But now you can't wait and you know he doesn't care, they're short hairs anyway, you keep them trimmed.

It's just a little line that surrounds your flower to browse.

“No baby, I need you”

The razor is lying on the shower floor, you pick it up and place it on the steel shelf that Joel installed for you to put your things on.

“Mmm tell me what you want” He asks, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with lust.

He already knows the answer.

“Fuck me” you plead, voice trembling with excitement “fuck me with your tongue and fingers, please. Fuck me with your cock. Fuck me until I see white and I’m a mumbling mess underneath you”

You put your hand over his bulge, running slowly to his zipper strained and you fiddle your fingers on his button.

You feel him squirming, his eyes feral and mesmerized by your touch and your words.

You open his jeans as he takes off his water-spattered shirt and throws it on the floor outside the shower.

Sitting like this, you notice even more the softness of his belly, that little bit of flesh that you love to bite.

He gets up to get rid of his jeans, now soaked, annoying, heavy, he throws them on the floor and they land with a dull thud.

His boxers are damp and have a big stain on the front, but it's not water. It's his pleasure dripping.

He’s rock hard leaking profusely.

He leans down and gives you a long kiss, looking at you. His hands slide slowly over your arms, slipping onto your hips, squeezing your flesh and your body arches towards him, your tongue quivers on his, every fiber of you reacts and bends gently to him.

He brings a hand to your cheek, deepening the kiss, eagerly licking the inside of your mouth, tasting you.

You moan into his lips as you feel his other hand move up and rest on the side of your breast, his long fingers reach your nipple and trace its contours, they move circling it, he does it first with his thumb and then with his index finger. He passes them over your bud, titillating it, making it harden under his fingertip.

He makes space between your knees again, makes you lay down on the floor, caressing your torso, going down to your ribs, he touches the area just below and whispers “you look beautiful here”.

You like that he appreciates everything about your body, even those parts that others ignore, he sees the overall harmony and knows how to notice the details. He knows the map of your scars and every shade of your skin. He goes down, brushing your navel and then unexpectedly goes back up and takes your lips again.

He sucks.

He tastes.

He drinks.

He lowers himself and leans over your opening. He breathes hard as he gives the first lick, with his tongue flat, crawling from bottom to top, lingering on your clit. He spreads your folds a little with his thumbs and looks at you for a moment whispering “God, baby, you have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen” he inhales your scent “and she’s so wet…” and he licks again “so sweet” another lick “and she tastes so good”

You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, pushing him against you.

He keeps his mouth glued to your slit, his tongue seems everywhere, meticulous and insatiable, it seems he can never get enough.

You listen to his movements with your whole body, as if he were speaking to you, using a language unique to yours.

You feel his hand resting on your hip, you grab his wrist and bring him back to your tit, you don't need to ask him to touch it, he silently takes your nipple between his fingers pinching and twisting.

Your ribcage expand for air, you gasp with your mouth wide open and a long moan leaves your lips rising from deep inside you.

You lift your head to see him, looking disheveled and grateful, his beard glisten with your fluids as two of his thick fingers slide into you.

He traces with his tongue that little stripe of hair he left you, which frames your lips, he caresses them, takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly.

His strong aquiline nose is hitting your clit now, fingers curl to find that perfect spot, the one that makes you see white, like you asked.

You moan in disarray “your cock – God – I want your cock, please Joel”

He gives a couple more licks and then moves, towering over you, kissing you with lips that taste of salt and lemon, of you. It’s your taste, all over his mouth.

He lower his boxers and the tip of his cock presses against your hole, slowly making its way in.

You throw your arms around his neck, giving him sloppy kisses on his sultry skin.

He grunts as he thrusts into you, you wrap your legs around his waist as he slides a hand behind your arched back, pushing you, anchoring himself to you so you don't slip on the wet floor, his knee braced on the floor.

You stammer senselessly yes yes yes, you're both close to your peak.

You feel disarmed, completely enveloped by him, by his body, by his scent.

You're sweaty, even though your skin is still wet, your body contracts against his, waves of pleasure modulating your breathing.

Your orgasm explodes in a long sigh, then it goes silent, you bite your lips, you are overwhelmed.

He takes your hands, intertwines them with his and brings them above your head, sinking relentlessly inside you, hitting again and again, deeper and deeper until you feel thick, sticky stems filling you, painting your walls, dripping from inside you onto your thighs.

His hair is plastered to his forehead, his eyes searching yours as he fills his hands with your ass cheeks, giving the last hard thrusts before he pulls out of you and lets himself go on the shower floor next to you.

You take deep breaths, trying to come back to your senses, your bodies completely exhausted.

“Well,” he says after a while, “we’re officially too late to go now.”

“Do you mind?” you ask, rolling onto your side, tracing his broad chest with your fingertips.

“No,” he replies without even thinking.

You burst out laughing together.

No, this is definitely more important.

[heartsforvin]

Hi bestie, can you do an imagine about cutting ur bikini area in the shower while shaving and how vinnie would react, please 🥰

KISS IT BETTER

thank you for the request !! i hope you like it !! <3

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), mentions of cuts on body, bit of blood, lmk if i missed anything !

summary; when you’re shaving, you accidentally cut yourself, so you have vinnie kiss it better

hearing your alarm, you stretch as you adjust to the light that is coming into the room. you begin to roll over to get out of bed, but your boyfriend pulls you back into him.

“few more minutes, please baby.” he mumbles into your neck, his arm wrapped around your stomach.

you comply, leaning into his touch, you smile as vinnie snakes his other arm around you. after a few minutes you start to get up.

once out of the bed, you grab your phone, speaker and clothes for the day.

turning on your music, you start the shower, waiting for it to heat up. once it’s the temperature you want, you strip and step in.

after shampooing and rinsing that out, you put conditioner in, letting it sit for a bit while you decide to shave your bikini area.

as you do so, everything goes smoothly until you accidentally go over a spot too fast and cut yourself.

you try to keep your voice quiet but a string of profanities leave your mouth and you soon hear vinnie walk into the bathroom.

“baby?” he asks, knocking on the wall as if he can’t see you clearly in the shower. “you okay, my love?”

you scramble to pick up the fallen razor and then answer your boyfriend. “yeah, i’m good. just get back into bed, i’ll be out soon.”

vinnie nods and heads back into his room so you can finish up. once you do, you’re soon dried off and dressed, just needing to finish up the basics.

brushing your teeth, hair and doing your skin care routine, you’re finally back in vinnie’s room.

“there’s my pretty girl- what’s wrong?” vinnie asks when he sees you wince in pain.

you shake your head. “ it’s nothin’, just accidentally cut myself shaving.” you explain.

he comes to stand by you, brushing some hair behind your ear and kissing you softly. “where? maybe i can kiss it better.” he tells you.

you blush, realizing the spot it’s in. “where at, baby?” vinnie asks again, making you become flustered.

you hide yourself in your hands, not wanting to reveal to him exactly where the cut is. it was silly, really, since he had seen you naked countless times.

“it’s on my bikini line, but i cleaned it up now so it’s okay. just a red spot now, you know?” you finally speak up.

taking your hands in his, he smiles at you. “can i kiss it better?” he asks.

even though he has seen you naked a bunch of times, he’s always going to ask if he can see you naked no matter what. even if it is just half.

you blush again, feeling like you’re back in middle school with a crush. nodding, you pull your pants down along with your panties just a bit so he can see where the cut was.

“awe, baby,” vinnie coos, running his finger along your bikini line, making you shiver at the contact. “it doesn’t hurt too bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “not really, just feels like harsh pressure if you really push on it.” you told him.

vinnie nods in understanding. he kneels down to get closer to the red spot and then looks up at you, asking you for permission through his eyes.

with a quiet ‘yes’ he softly kisses the redness spot, making you smile at how caring he is.

you soon pull your pants back up and look up at your boyfriend, he smiles at you and kisses your cheek.

“now it’ll heal faster.” he tells you with a cheeky grin, making you laugh.

you hit his shoulder playfully. wrapping your arms around his neck you kiss him softly. “thank you,” you say. “glad you didn’t freak out or find it weird.”

“of course i wouldn’t find it weird, silly. you know how many times i’ve seen you naked? plus every time you have a scrape or somethin’ i always kiss it better.” vinnie explains to you, making you smile.

you’re so grateful to have vinnie by your side, to always make you feel better in times you need.

as you are for him.

i really hoped you enjoyed this !!! i loved writing it (:

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi Ms Bonny

So I remembered you said no one sends asks for the ilysib couple anymore, and I just had this idea last night but didn't have the energy to pick up my phone again💀

Okay so, basically kookie shaves his head right, maybe for the weather or his hair was damaged or I don't know really I'll need your creative mind for that part👀 and he becomes a little self conscious and oc comforts him by saying he's still😋 and he doesn't believe her. So she takes him out on a date and like before, everyone is looking at him and basically building his confidence back up.

PS I really hope you get this ask because I've sent some for this couple before and it was never answered

Tumblr sometimes eats asks, I'm so sorry :(

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's avoiding you- and that's just so not your Jungkookie.

You thought everything was going well between the two of you- but apparently something must've happened to make him so withdrawn again, refusing to see you, refusing to meet up, refusing to show himself. You're not sure what's wrong-

But you're about to find out.

"You know, I'll just camp outside then, I don't care!" You threaten, sitting in front of his apartment door, stubborn as ever- when his voice is finally heard.

"You'll laugh." He whines, before you can hear something slide along the door before it falls to the floor with a thud- he's probably sat down on the other side of the door. "You'll.. I look stupid." He says.

"Did you dye your hair or something?" You ask, and he's quiet, making you angry. "Jeon Jungkook you could've buzzed it all off and well full on Vin Diesel on me what do I care! Are you serious right now?!" You get up to knock on the door and right his doorbell again. "Open that goddam door, I'm worried about you, nerd!" You cry out again, even stomping your leg in anger.

"No, I'm.. I'm fine. Just.." he stumbles over the words, clearly panicking.

"I'm sorry." You say, and it's quiet. "I.. I'm sorry if my constant joking has gone too far at some point, if I made you feel like.. self conscious or something, I swear I never wanted to do that." You confess, feeling terrible. This must be your doing, right? It has to be your fault. Because you're insensitive as fuck, and you can't read a room, and you got way too comfortable with him and-

The door opens. He stands in front of you, beanie on his head.

"Its.. it's not your fault." He tells you. "You didn't do anything." Jungkook mumbles, and you can't help yourself.

You basically tackle the poor guy, door falling out of his grip and closing behind you, making you successfully infiltrate his home. He holds you because he's missed you too- he hates the fact that he couldn't have you this close for days by now, no physical contact with you whatsoever, no visual sight of you. It felt like torture-

But he just feels like he can't face you.

"Why are you doing this?" You whine, tears clear in your eyes, making your eyelashes already heavy with them. You're not even wearing makeup today, he notices. This must've really gotten to you.

You're still so pretty.

"What happened?" You worry, and he begins to bite his lips, a nasty habit he has whenever he's nervous. "Jungkook.." you say his full name, no variation of it, no silly petname.

He knows it's serious.

"I.. look stupid." He confesses. "I.. had an accident, a few days ago, in the bathroom." He sighs, sitting down on his couch with you, while you listen. "I slipped when I stepped out the shower, and hit.. my head on the edge of one of the cabinets.."

"Oh Jungkookie-" you whine.

"And- and they had to like.. cause my hair was so long they couldn't stitch it without, you know, shaving it, and it looked dumb when I came home so I thought might as well buzz it all off-"

You're quiet, staring at him.

"Are you okay now?" You ask, oddly serious.

"Yeah, they kept me overnight to make sure I was fine-" he answers, before you shove him, hard, angry.

"You stupid idiot!" You scold. "You're so dumb! What the fuck?!" You complain, angry tears in your eyes. "What the hell do I care about your hair?! You could've died or something, and all you thought about was how you could look to me? Am I that shallow to you?" You ask him, and he shakes his head.

He deserves this. You're right.

"No.." he denies, taking the scolding like a dog that's being told off. "No you're not. I just.. felt weird. Like I'm not.. fit for you anymore. You should have a nice looking boyfriend and all that, and you always said how you love my hair-"

"I love you most!" You whine, leaning forward to climb on his lap, and cling to him. "I love you, not your body. That's just.. that's just the only thing I can touch, so I want you to take care of it.." you explain into his chest. "..so it'll be here for as long as possible.. until we're all wrinkly and old.."

"Oh." He hums, realizing what you mean.

He's never thought about it that way. But you're right- he doesn't love your body first and foremost either, but you- your personality, your soul, your mind. Your body is simply the vessel you live in, and he'd want you to keep it up and running for as long as he's alive too.

"I'm sorry." He confesses. "I'll never do that again."

"I sure dare you to, I swear I'm gonna break in next time!" You threaten, letting him dry your tears before your hands reach for his beanie. "..can I see it?" You wonder, and he looks down, shrugging.

"I guess." He confirms.

The moment you skip his hat off, you search for something- finding the small stitched wound near the tip of his ear, making you immediately coo at it, fingers carefully touching it. "Does it still hurt?" You wonder- and he shakes his head.

"Just a little, if I lay on it or something." He admits.

"Oh my baby-" You whine, before you rub his head. "This feels weird though. How is it still soft?" You wonder, taking the pressure away from the situation, making him laugh. "And you honestly rock this look. Now you really do look like a guy who can throw a punch."

"..I can and will, for you." He mumbles, making you laugh again.

"Heh, and I lo~ove you for it!" You sing a little, kissing his nose before you kiss his lips a couple of times, cheeks held in your hands.

And he can't believe he's been living without this for just a week.

He never wants to miss you ever again.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: This fic was a request; thank you so much, I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: fluff/suggestive/brief smut.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You just moved to Coccham and were taken aback by your new, friendly neighbour, and you were also blind to his advances.

wordcount: 3,4k

Masterlist

'Does your bed need some fixing?'

You felt prying eyes on you as you carried your belongings inside your new hut, one by one, after having moved to Coccham earlier that day. You glanced over your shoulder and found a pair of eyes staring at you, from the hut that was located across your own, just before the spy hid behind the curtains in the window. You frowned and shook your head lightly as you turned your face back to your own home. And your new neighbour kept up the strange game of staring and hiding for hours, while you slowly made a new home for yourself. 

The only thing left to do, to finally call your new place your home, was closing the door behind you which, unfortunately, fell out as soon as you shoved it shut, and landed with a hard blow on the sandy ground, causing clouds of dust to fly up. You stared at the broken door with big eyes. You had just moved, you had no more coins to get this fixed, and you didn't know what to do, so you just froze. Then the neighbour, who had been peeking at you all day already, suddenly appeared as he opened his door, and walked over to you. You stared at the man, clearly a Dane, who had his head half shaved, some tattoos, and a smile that took your breath away. All while wearing a dark, leather tunic, which showed off his muscles, and you were stunned.

'Need some help fixing that?' he asked.

You looked down at your door, then back at him again, and you smiled awkwardly.

'I do but, I can't pay you,' you said quickly.

'No need, lady,' the Dane chuckled, and already moved to lift the heavy wooden door back into its hinges. You watched him with wide eyes, as he made it seem so effortless, while it took great strength to move that chunk of wood and steel.

'T-thank you,' you smiled shyly as he wiped his sandy hands on his tunic.

'Not a problem, lady,' he gave you a sweet smile, 'I'm Sihtric, uh… your neighbour.'

'Yeah,' you grinned, 'I've seen you spying,' you said, and saw Sihtric blush as you introduced yourself, and thanked him again for fixing your door.

'If you need anything else, I'm… you know,' Sihtric fought with his words, 'right… uh, right over there,' he pointed to his hut.

'I think I will be able to find you,' you chuckled, and before you could say anything else, Sihtric was called away by an Irish man. He apologised for having to leave so abruptly, and you watched the friendly Dane walk off, who glanced back over his shoulder and gave you a smile. 

And you were surprised by how friendly the stranger had been.

One thing you always struggled with was fetching water. The buckets were simply too big, too heavy and you were too clumsy. And in your new town it wasn't any different. Your friendly neighbour, Sihtric, was once again spying on you and noticed your struggle, and he was quick to give you a hand.

'Lady,' he said softly with a smile, taking the bucket from you without asking, and carrying it inside your hut. 'Do you need more water?' he asked, 'or anything else?'

'Actually one more bucket would be nice,' you said quietly.

Before you could say another word, Sihtric was on his way. And it once again struck you as odd yet pleasant how kind he was to you. You never had such a helpful neighbour before, and you felt blessed. You figured the people in Coccham were just very friendly and looked after each other.

'My lady,' Sihtric said after he had fetched you another bucket with water, and he stared at you.

You looked at him and felt awkward, not sure why he was staring at you. Was he expecting you to pay him? Because you told him yesterday already that you have nothing left to give, so why would he think it's any different today? You plucked at your skirt and chuckled nervously.

'Eh, d-did you want…something?' you asked, almost inaudible.

'Oh,' Sihtric said, flustered, 'n-no, lady. I was just, uh,' he cleared his throat, 'if you… n-need anything else, I'm… you know, I'm…'

'You're right… over there,' you smiled.

'Yeah,' Sihtric smiled shyly, 'just… over there,' he cocked his head slightly to his hut, across from you, 'for anything, you know?'

'Anything,' you nodded.

'Anything,' the Dane said again, then rubbed his toned bicep with his tattooed fingers and shuffled out of your hut, 'have a good day, lady.'

'You're welcome,' you said while being flustered, and Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle at your strange response.

You carefully closed the door behind him and couldn't help feeling pleasant tingles in your stomach, as well as a smile on your face which lasted all day. You quickly realised you couldn't get Sihtric out of your head anymore. Besides being friendly, he was also the most handsome man you had ever met. But he was just being nice, clearly he had no interest in you. He was merely helping you out, as a good neighbour should.

The next few weeks Sihtric helped you out with little things, whenever he noticed you could use a hand. He helped fold your laundry, always fetched you water when he saw you make your way out with the buckets, and he checked your front door a few times after you had mentioned your concerns. And so you started to get to know him. You learned he was a warrior and was loyal to Lord Uhtred, who had saved his life. He told you a little about his past and you were stunned that a man who had suffered so much, had such a kind heart. You enjoyed his presence and hoped Sihtric felt the same, but you couldn't pick up on a clue even if it was dropped right at your feet, so you kept a comfortable distance. 

Sihtric had no idea how to make it more clear to you that he liked you. He even bought you flowers one day. But he actually thought he had messed up when he gave you flowers, because you thanked him and became quiet. Truth was that a man had never bought you flowers before, so you had no idea how to react, and you felt shy at the moment.

A few days after the flower debacle, you realised late at night that you had run out of wood for your fireplace, and the night became cold quickly. For a while, you tried to sleep without a fire burning, but soon you heard the chattering of your own teeth. You eventually peeked out your window and noticed there was still a fire burning over at Sihtric's hut, so you gathered all your courage and knocked on his door.

'Lady?' Sihtric said, confused but happy to find you on his doorstep, 'is everything okay?'

'Sorry to bother you this late,' you apologised, 'but I have no more wood for my firepit, could I borrow some? If… if you have any left.'

Sihtric said you weren't a bother at all, and he soon carried a small pile over to your hut, which should last you until the morning.

'Gods, it's freezing here,' Sihtric remarked, 'how long have you been without fire?'

'... A while,' you admitted, and Sihtric noticed you were trembling.

He hummed softly at your answer, then went to grab his cloak from his own hut, and came back running to you. He threw the cloak around your shoulders and made haste to start a fire in your freezing home. You buried yourself in his thick, soft cloak, trying to warm up, and you watched Sihtric search around your hut after he had lit the hearth, and without you asking, he started making you some hot tea.

'Here,' he gave you a soft smile, 'drink it, you need to warm up.'

'T-thank you,' you took the cup with trembling hands as he sat down next to you.

'Why did you wait so long?' Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle and wrapped an arm around you, sharing his body heat as you were still wrapped in his cloak, 'it's too cold at night now to not have a fire burning, lady, it can be dangerous.'

'I didn't want to bother you,' you said, embarrassed.

'Again, you are not a bother,' he told you, 'do you have anyone looking after you?'

'No,' you answered, mindlessly leaning into him, 'I lost my family when I was young and I never married.'

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed softly, and you closed your eyes at the comforting sound, 'guess I'll look after you then, lady,' he said softly.

You gave him a shy smile and sipped your tea. You both stared quietly into the fire as your body slowly came back to its regular temperature again, enjoying each other's presence without saying it out loud. 

After a little while you felt sleepy, and Sihtric noticed you were dozing off, so your neighbour said he'd better get back to his own bed. And as you were completely oblivious to the bait, you wished him a good night and thanked him again. 

Sihtric was stunned when you closed the nearly broken door behind him, and he laughed quietly as he walked into his own hut. Winning you over was not easy, he figured.

The next morning you wanted to return Sihtric's cloak, and as you opened your fragile front door, you found a huge stack of wood for your fireplace piled up next to your door. You smiled, knowing it came from Sihtric, and you carried it inside with a fuzzy feeling. 

When you finally went over to return his cloak, you found Sihtric wasn't home, so you'd keep his cloak a little longer you figured. But the next few days you didn't see Sihtric around at all, and you noticed you felt a little worried and even a little gloomy. You actually missed seeing him around, and that feeling had caught you by surprise. 

At night you kept thinking of how you had enjoyed being so close to him, when he had helped you with your fireplace and made sure you were warmed up before he left. You actually wished Sihtric would've stayed that night, wrapping you in his arms as you fell asleep, but when he said he'd better get going, you understood he was once again only being friendly. And you desperately tried to get the pretty Dane out of your head, which wasn't easy, even if you didn't see him around. 

He was already imprinted in your mind; those beautiful mismatched eyes, his sharp features, his well kept facial hair and the battle scars that graced his god-like face haunted you, even in your dreams, along with the sound of his voice and the way his body felt against yours. And the way he was so kind and helpful, with his sweet smile and those strong arms, in which you had felt safe and warm that night, in front of your fireplace. 

And you could only dream of marrying a man like him one day.

About a week later you went to the market and strolled around the town as the weather was nice. When you returned back home, about an hour later, you noticed your front door was missing. You panicked and wanted to run over, but then you suddenly saw Sihtric and the Irish man, who you learned was called Finan, coming up around the corner, carrying a brand new wooden door. You watched from a distance with your jaw dropped as the men installed the new door at your hut. You were excited and relieved to see the handsome Dane, but also terrified because, once again, there was no way you could afford that new door. And when you finally managed to move your feet again, you shuffled over.

'W-what are you… you doing? I… I can't afford that, please,' you looked at the men with slight terror in your eyes.

Finan frowned and laughed, 'Already paid for, lady,' he said, 'no worries.'

'What? But… how? Who? I-,'

'If I were you, lady,' Finan said, 'I'd ask my mate here,' he pointed at Sihtric, 'to check if your bed needs some fixing up. Because he'll gladly help you with that,' he winked and slapped the Dane on his shoulder before walking away. Sihtric blushed.

'I… I don't understand,' you whispered. 

You just still couldn't figure it out. Sihtric smiled and then explained he saw your door was a recurring issue, so he got it fixed and all paid for you. You were speechless, and having no idea how to thank him, you handed him an apple you just bought at the market. Sihtric laughed and thanked you after he took a bite from the apple, and made his way back into his own hut. 

And it was only days later, when you were preparing dinner, you suddenly understood what Finan had meant with that remark about your bed, and you dropped a plate out of your hands at the realisation that Sihtric was interested in you.

You felt so embarrassed. The man had been helping you out ever since you moved here, and you never picked up on his hints, yet they were all clear now. He must think you were a stuck up woman, as you never really thanked him properly. And so you decided to invite him over for dinner the next day, which Sihtric gladly accepted.

'Very kind of you to cook for me,' Sihtric said as he was seated at your dinner table, watching you serve the food, 'been a long time since a lady made me dinner I didn't have to pay for.'

'Well,' you chuckled, 'it's not alehouse food, but it's the least I could do, to thank you for all you've done for me.'

'Don't mention it,' Sihtric smiled, and he looked shy.

'No, I should mention it,' you handed Sihtric a drink before you sat down across from him, 'no one has ever been that kind to me. Especially not being a stranger in a new place. It's not always easy.'

'I know,' Sihtric said and took a sip, 'I've been to a lot of places. Not always receiving a warm welcome.'

'I bet you've seen some things,' you smiled. 

He had told you some stories about his journeys and battles, and it had impressed you. Not everyone was as lucky as Sihtric, to have travelled all through the country and still be alive to tell the stories.

'Where have you been, I've been wondering, when you were gone for several days?' you asked with your mouth full, which Sihtric thought was adorable.

'Had to help fix up a bridge near the river,' Sihtric said, 'took a little longer than expected, but it worked out.'

'I see. I heard the river near the woods here is a nice place.'

'It is,' Sihtric confirmed, 'you haven't been there yet?' he asked before stuffing his mouth with the food you had made, which he thought was a whole feast.

'No,' you smiled weakly as Sihtric stared in your eyes, 'it's a little too far by foot, and I can't afford a horse.'

'Well,' he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, 'I could take you there one day, if you like? I can take you by horse.'

'Really?' your eyes grew big, 'I… I'd love that.'

'Of course. I'll take you there when it's not as cold anymore, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold,' Sihtric smiled sweetly, and took another sip of his drink after he had emptied his plate, 'thank you, lady,' he then said, 'better food than in the alehouse, truly.' 

You both chuckled and finished your drink, leaning back and quietly looking at each other. Eyes slowly darting all over each other, and a sudden tension filled your home gradually. You both silently thought about the things you'd like to do with each other. Things that have been on both your minds for a little while already. Things that shouldn't be spoken, but felt.

'You are really pretty, lady,' Sihtric said softly, tilting his head to the side with a smirk.

You felt yourself blush and broke eye contact, 'thank you,' you smiled, 'you're very handsome yourself.'

Sihtric smiled at your shyness and licked his lips, his eyes never leaving you and he cleared his throat.

'Does your bed need some fixing?' he asked, cheekily.

'N-not that I know of,' you giggled softly.

'Well,' he inhaled sharply, 'it may need some fixing tomorrow.'

You stared at him as he got up. He came over to you and took your hand, pressing a polite kiss to the back, before he pulled you up. You felt Sihtric's strong arms circle around your waist as you placed your hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

'Will you fix it tomorrow?' you asked, smiling innocently.

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed as you slowly pushed him towards your bed, 'it's only fair I fix what I broke myself, is it not, my lady?' he smiled as he looked down into your eyes, his breath tickling your face, which you found a pleasant feeling.

'I think so,' you bit down on your lip when you felt his hands squeezing your ass.

You pushed Sihtric down on your bed, hiked up your skirt and straddled his lip. His warm, rough hands gently moved up your arms, to your shoulders, where he left gentle kisses as he slowly slipped his fingers under the straps of your dress, sliding them off your shoulders. You allowed your dress to fall down your arms, exposing your bare chest to the handsome warrior, who hummed with a smile and bit down on his lip as he watched you. You took his hands and placed them onto your breasts, which he squeezed softly while his eyes darkened, and his breathing became heavier. You brushed your hand through his soft, dark hair as you leaned your face against the shaved side of his head, trailing your fingertips down over his neck, up his throat and gently lifting his chin up.

'I want to thank you,' you whispered, smiling, 'but I can't pay you.'

'I will accept this form of payment,' Sihtric grinned, 'but only for you,' he winked.

You leaned in and softly kissed his lips, and the way he hummed satisfied to your kiss, made you hungry for more. Sihtric laid down on his back and pulled you towards him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing all over your body before you quickly took off your dress. Then Sihtric flipped you over, with his strong arms, and positioned his hips between your thighs. He pulled his tunic off over his head, exposing his well trained, toned and scarred body, and he smiled when he saw your eyes had darkened upon the sight. His lips found yours quickly and the comfortable weight of his body heated your core instantly. Sihtric quickly rid you both of whatever clothing you still had on, leaving soft, wet kisses all over your shoulder and neck, up to your jaw, until he finally kissed your lips again.

'Are you ready?' he whispered in your ear, already teasing your wet folds with his card cock.

'You promised to break my bed,' you chuckled lightly.

Sihtric laughed softly and kissed your lips as he slowly entered you, swallowing your soft moans as well as silencing his own deep sigh, when he felt your nails scratch down his back. He stilled inside you and broke the kiss, looking down at you with half open eyes, and his parted lips curled into a soft smile.

'Perfect,' Sihtric sighed, leaning his forehead against yours as he hooked your leg around his waist. 'Perfect for me,' he whispered, slowly bucking his hips into yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You enjoyed each other for quite some time, and you found out  that Sihtric didn't lie when he had said your bed would need fixing, once he took on a rougher pace, which you loved. And you screamed out his name when you reached your high, shortly after Sihtric, and you slept in his arms on your half collapsed bed, which he would fix in the morning, as promised.

And before he left the next day, he kissed your lips and told you that if you ever needed anything…

'You're right over there,' you smiled.

'I am,' Sihtric chuckled as he had you wrapped in his arms, 'maybe you'd like to test my bed sometime?'

'I'd like that,' you smiled and looked up at him.

And Sihtric gave you another soft kiss before he had to go help Uhtred and Finan, and he couldn't wait to tell his friends he had finally won you over.

taglist: @clairacassidy   @finanmoghra   @uunotheangel   @hb8301    @bathedinheat    @neonhairspray    @anaeve   @bubblyabs     @travelingmypassion    @sylas-the-grim  @bubbles-for-all-of-us  @andakth   @bel-bottoms     @willowbrookesblog    @lady-targaryens-world    @skyofficialxx     @diosademuerte @elle4404    @alexagirlie    @sweetxime @solango

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

[reidsaurora]

"Hot Chocolate, White Lies" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: Aaron might be a pain in the ass to shop for, but at least he's cute.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader (Reader does wear makeup)

Word Count: 1,444

Content Warning: mild swearing, mentions of food, i think that's it!

Extra Notes: i took creative liberties with the things featured in this fic, sue me (also sorry for the sh!tty summary, it will happen again) // icon in collage is by @catsadams

Beta Read By: @theghouligan 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 10/12/2023 through 10/19/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

There were many things you were unsure of, but one thing you did know was that autumn was your absolute favorite time of the whole year.

The mornings when you were both home from cases usually started slow and sweet. You'd wake up ten minutes past your alarm, Aaron's chapped lips the only thing strong enough to awaken you from your slumber. You'd press to know why he allowed you to be late, but he'd just insist, "We have nowhere important to be. Besides, you just looked so peaceful. How could I ever wake you?"

When you finally rolled out of bed, his hands would be on your waist, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck as the two of you made your way into the kitchen. You'd start on a pan of French toast while Aaron put on the coffee, stealing quick kisses as the two of you glided around the space, each of you already anticipating the other's every move.

Then, you'd eat together in the breakfast nook, the sunlight glowing all around him, somehow making his five-o'clock shadow and bedhead seem ethereal. The conversation would flow from topic to topic as easily as water flowed downstream. But this particular day, there was one topic Aaron seemed to be actively avoiding.

It was a week from his birthday, and while he knew better than to tell you not to get him anything, he would still put his foot down about making a big deal out of the situation. If one person found out, then they'd all find out, and truly, his only wish every year was to spend his birthday with the person he loved most, not the entirety of the FBI. He'd much rather have take-out and a cheap bottle of wine in the comfort of his own home than hors d'oeuvres and expensive champagne with people he hardly knew.

Still, you'd tried all morning to get him to crack and tell you what he wanted for his birthday. But his response was always the same: "You're the only thing I need, my love."

One somewhat pointless conversation and a plate of French toast later, the two of you were headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. He'd head into the bathroom to shave, and you'd steal glances of him as you got dressed in the bedroom. Then he'd do the same, eyeing you with absolute love and adoration as you applied layers of makeup he still insisted you didn't need, even after years of marriage.

Soon enough, you'd arrive at your favorite little bookstore and cafe. Any onlooker would immediately be able to tell just how in love Aaron was with you, sporting a matching sweater you'd clearly picked out and his hand only parting from yours to open the door, which he insisted on doing any time you went anywhere together.

"Alright, I'm setting you free," he joked, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Don't cause too much chaos in the romance aisle, okay?"

You giggled, leaning up to kiss him on the lips for once. "I'll only squeal if they have anything signed by my favorite author."

And with that, he was headed off to the cafe side of the building, going to collect a cup of your favorite hot chocolate. Most people preferred to drink coffee while they shopped, but to you, nothing beat curling the sleeves of your sweater around your hands and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Even after years of coming to this place, you still hadn't figured out how they made it taste infinitely better than other hot chocolate you'd ever had.

Once you were absolutely sure Aaron was in line at the cafe, you were bee-lining in the opposite direction of the romance aisle and over to the literary fiction section.

While you'd originally told Aaron you wanted to go to the bookstore under the guise of wanting to see if they had a copy of a new release you'd been excited about, you secretly had other plans. If he wasn't going to tell you what he wanted, you'd take matters into your own hands.

You peered around one of the shelves to make sure he wasn't looking, letting out a quick sigh of relief as you spotted him reading something on his phone.

You had all of about three minutes to find a couple books that he hadn't read, which was no small feat. Nearly every second of Aaron's free time was spent devouring a novel, and while you loved that he had found a hobby he truly enjoyed, it also made it devastatingly hard to buy him new books.

In roughly two and a half minutes, you'd managed to find three books that you were sure Aaron would love. Then, you were all but sprinting over to the romance section and grabbing the first book you saw, reading the back cover nonchalantly as your husband walked up.

You were reading the back of some novel about two rival scientists falling in love when Aaron got back with two cups of hot chocolate and a sugar cookie the size of your face. "Your drink, my dear," he said, holding out one of the cups.

You took the cup from him, inhaling that first anticipated sip of the warm liquid. "Thank you."

"You found anything interesting yet?" he asked, a hand meeting the small of your back.

You shook your head, placing the scientist romance novel back on the shelf and picking up another book with a beautiful pink cover. "Nothing much. No signed copies so you'll be glad to know I won't be disturbing the other readers with my squeals."

He chuckled, a deep sound that made butterflies go off in your stomach every time you heard it. "Thank you, I'm sure it's appreciated," he kidded. He took the tote from your shoulder, immediately registering the weight of the bag. "Nothing much?" he inquired.

Before he could open the bag to look inside, you were swatting his hand and snatching it away. "It's… an encyclopedia I promised Reid I'd get for him if I saw it."

Aaron cocked an eyebrow at you. "Since when do you go shopping for Reid?" he inquired, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

You wracked your brain for some kind of response that sounded at least halfway truthful. "He hasn't been able to find it anywhere and he knew we liked coming here, so he asked me to check next time we came."

That skeptical brow of his only raised itself higher. "Well, there's one flaw with your story and that's that I'm a profiler and I know when you're lying to me."

Before you could form a rebuttal, he was taking the bag out of your hands again. "Aaron, don't-" you barely got out the words before he was holding up the copy of The Midnight Library.

His brows furrowed as he held up the book, examining the cover for a moment. "This isn't a romance."

You let out an exasperated breath at his examination. "That's kind of the point, Aaron."

"Well, I thought we came to find a copy of that new book you've been looking for."

You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a small huff of amusement. "I suppose I should come clean. I did lie to you."

Aaron's mouth flew open in fake shock. "No! I never would've guessed."

"Not about that," you grumbled, slapping his arm. "About why we're here in the first place. I wanted to find you something for your birthday."

His features wrinkled in embarrassment, a small sigh escaping between his lips. "Well, now I look like an ass."

You were inclined to agree, he did kind of look like an ass. But he was a cute ass and you wouldn't want him any other way. Hands flying up to his cheeks, you pulled him down for a long and soft kiss. His wrinkles of slight mortification melted away as he settled into your touch, the scents of hot chocolate and new books taking over each of your senses.

Aaron was the first to pull away, moving his kiss from your lips to your forehead, before meeting you with an expression filled with admiration. "You-"

"-'Didn't have to get me anything.' I know," you finished for him. "But these ones seem really interesting and I thought that maybe we could read them together."

His mouth curved upward into that smile of his that was so sweet, so loving, so… Aaron. "If I'm going to share a book, I'm always going to hope it's with you."

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @namorswhore @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @bbbbbbbbbbbbbbl @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahargrove @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike

[delta-pavonis]

Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him. 

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time. 

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence. 

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed. 

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history. 

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death. 

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra. 

In fact, he became The Associate. 

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse. 

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast. 

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols. 

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it. 

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid. 

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life. 

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time." 

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin. 

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect. 

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob. 

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

[suzyq31]

Another @jilymicrofics for team Gryffindor! Can easily be a continuation of my previous one. Prompts used: pride and joy.

===

The first thing that alerted Lily that things were amiss was the cat racing through the kitchen, ginger tail puffed and making disgruntled yowls. The next was the sound of clattering, and heavy footsteps over the record she had playing softly.

She summoned a towel and dried her hands, moving swiftly towards the direction that Mitsy had come from. Fleetwood Mac faded and the sound of laughter reached her next, easing some of the tension from her shoulders as she rounded the corner into the living room. 

James was chasing after Harry who careened around the sofa astride his toddler broom. The one she had banned from inside use over a month ago. There was also a broken picture frame and glass littering the hardwood floor. Much too close to her son’s socked feet. 

“James!”

Her husband’s head snapped up, a flash of guilt in his eyes. Harry spotted her and the sheer delight on his small face was enough to bring her back from the edge of panic. James was right behind him beaming and waving away the jagged edges of glass with his wand.

Lily crossed her arms. 

“I thought we agreed that the broom would be outdoors only.”

He tugged at his hair, Harry already taking off around the sofa again. “I know…but It’s been raining for days. Poor lad needs an outlet.”

As if in agreement Harry gave a loud shriek of happiness and James’ grin widened. Lily glanced around the sitting room now in complete disarray; tufted cushions on the ground, records spilling out of the cabinet that had clearly been collided with and the last of her summer flowers now strewn across the rug. Last time Harry had knocked over a vase–one of the many Potter heirlooms that filled their home, and Lily had put a stop to the insanity, insisting that brooms were never meant for indoors, no matter how low to the ground they flew.

James’ hands on her waist drew her attention back from the mess and her small child who was still laughing with joy. 

“I’ll clean it up. I promise.”

Her answer was cut off by Harry, who noticed the lack of attention and came barreling towards them. Luckily James' reflexes were quick and with a wave his broom halted right near Lily’s shin. Harry slid forward on the broom, green eyes wide and mouth gaping open. Lily scooped him up before he could fall off and once safe in her arms he gave her a toothy grin. 

“I see you’re inheriting your fathers gift for trouble.”

Harry laughed and said “Da.” 

James smiled proudly, ruffling the matching dark mop of hair that their son had also inherited. “Admit it. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“He’s likely to shave years off my life,” she sighed, before kissing her son’s pudgy cheek, and tilting her head up towards James. “But you’re right.”

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter One

“Touching you makes me die inside”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Notes: I haven't written fanfic in literal years (let alone published anything) and this just popped into my head while on a road trip and I just had to write it down. Huge shout out to Kait @gretasmokerising and Anna @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for being my soundboard and encouraging me to flesh it out instead of just being an idea in my head. Love y'all so much!

Warnings: not much other than descriptions of blood.

Word Count: 2520

The bar was unusually crowded tonight, a detail you always preferred on nights like these. On nights you only had one thing on your mind. Nights when you needed to feed. It was a chain sports bar, which was a rule of yours: never go to local bars, the smaller the establishment the more likely a local turning up missing would be noticed. Bartenders and owners always notice when their regulars stop showing up. But no one bats an eye when a sports fanatic in a sea of matching jerseys slips off into an alley or stumbles down the street away from the fray, that’s just Friday. 

So there you were, sitting at the far end of the bar where you could get a better view of the room, your finger circling the rim of the vodka RedBull you pretended to drink. Human alcohol was alright, and the concoctions they’d come up with were cute, but it wasn’t anything compared to blood. Nothing compared to blood. You started salivating at the thought of it, your teeth begging to extend from your gums in preparation, but you shake your head and focus once again. 

Your eyes scanned the crowd in the bar, sweeping through the loud and obnoxious patrons hoping to find a target that would satiate your thirst for a few nights. That’s when you heard it, this loud, jovial belly laugh from the corner of the bar. You snapped your eyes towards the source, and you saw him. Big toothy grin, with a gap between his front teeth, the sides of his head was shaved down to the skin, the rest of his hair was curly and clearly picked to death to make it as tall as possible. Poolstick in one hand and the other playfully slapped the arm of the man next to him who was playing with him. You took a sip of your drink as you observed him closely, gauging how drunk he was. Not that it mattered too much, men were easy pickings amongst humans. 

Your heightened senses let you hear what he was saying, and you almost switched your target to someone else when you realized how much of a motormouth he was. But you sighed and continued to listen, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the inane things he was rambling off. Yeah, you were going to enjoy shutting him up later.  If your stomach could growl anymore, it would have several times by now from the sheer amount of time it had been since your last feed. You were bored now, and needed to set the scene for your graceful exit and hopefully delicious dinner. 

The human turned his head to a person on his other side as they were speaking, and you got a clear view of the side of his sharp jawline, and more importantly, his neck. The only visible scars on him was a small scar on his cheek, the rest of his visible skin was unmarked, unblemished, and that excited you more. It was almost too pretty for what you planned on doing to it, and the visual of his blood running down his neck into his shirt, staining it while the scent filled the air had you nearly launching yourself off that barstool to sink your teeth into him right then and there. 

You shook your head a little to center yourself, you were too old to give into sloppy desires like that. Downing the rest of your drink, you hopped off your stool and quickly plastered a cheerful grin on your face when the bar erupted in cheers at one of the teams on the screen scoring something. You didn’t care what it was, who was who, or what idiotic sport these humans cared about, but you needed to blend in. Raising your arms, you let out the silliest “woooo!” you could muster without embarrassing yourself, while quickly making your way to the other side of the bar where your target remained parked by the pool tables. 

As you got near that end of the bar, you pretended to completely ignore him and his friends. You pretended you didn’t see how his vision snapped to you as you walked by, or how he barely blinked while he watched you stare at the old school jukebox in the corner, looking over the options. You pretended you definitely didn’t see how his grip on his beer tightened as he checked you out. Men were so fucking easy like this, even the undead ones you knew personally. They’d never changed in the three centuries you had been alive. 

You threw a look over your shoulder at the crowd behind you, matching the energy of the room and letting out an airy laugh at what was happening on the televisions. As you turned back to the jukebox, you saw your target walking towards you, nearly stumbling over his own feet to get to you. 

“You’re awfully happy for a girl whose team is losing miserably.” He mused at you with a playful tone in his voice.

You turned to him, slightly confused until you looked over his shoulder at the score and looked down at your shirt. Shit, he was right. It was nothing you couldn’t recover from however, “oh it’s ok, I just like the energy going on...” That was stupid, but he seemed to buy it. 

“Whatcha drinking?” He said pointing to the empty cup in your hand. 

You let out another light giggle, “oh just a vodka RedBull…” 

He immediately turned to the bartender closest to him and ordered you another drink and another beer for himself. As he turned away from you, you noticed the multiple ear piercings in his ear, and tried to check out the metal to see if they were silver or stainless steel. You hoped out of convenience they were stainless steel or even white gold, because silver of any kind burned a Vampire's skin. While it would take a significant amount to hurt you, it was still annoying to avoid minor burns while enjoying a simple meal. 

He turned back towards you, dagger earring swinging as he did so, “I haven’t seen you here before…”

“You haven’t? You must not have been looking hard enough.” Your mouth twists into a smile, not only to make it seem like you were flirting with him but because you could hear his heartbeat hammering in your head. He wasn’t even trying to keep calm in front of you. 

At your reply he started grinning too, giving you a front row seat to a tooth gap that for a human was adorable. You briefly wondered if he was aware of how cute it was but you shook that thought off, you needed to get this done. You looked him in the eyes, just then realizing how intense his stare was. Those big brown eyes of his bore into you, the wheels were turning behind them and you wondered what he was thinking about. It was almost a crime you’d never be able to see how they looked in the sun. You’d never see how the sun would highlight every swirl, every minuscule difference from his left and right eye, all the dimensions of color you could never see in person because of the one thing that could kill you. His eyes were sweet, in a genuine way you weren’t used to seeing in human men. If you hadn’t been starving you’d almost let this one go, and find a legitimate douche to feed off of. But then again, sometimes the sweetness from human nature translated in their blood. It was probably a Vampiric placebo effect, but sometimes you could almost taste someone’s nature in their blood, and this one, this man right here, made you want to test that theory to know for sure. Maybe he wasn’t as annoying as you originally thought while listening to his conversations earlier. Maybe. 

Someone scored, a home run, touchdown, they won the points but you didn’t care, because everyone in the bar except you looked at the TV and cheered. You used this distraction to make eye contact with him once more, it was time to use your Persuasion, it was time to get out of there. With him. 

“Hey…let’s get out here…” as you spoke, you felt your power come from within you and follow your words to him. He blinked once or twice, and nodded slightly and took your hand at once. You realized just then you hadn’t even gotten his name. Good. You didn’t need to get attached to this one with a name. Nearly losing your nerve over his fucking eyes was enough. You hadn’t been a teenager in over 300 years but for a brief second, you felt like one as his hand gripped ours and led you through the thick crowd. 

The two of you made it to the back door, slipping out into the night easily. The door led out to an alley, as cliche as they were to feed in, they were easy to leave humans behind in with no memory of what had transpired. The only light was from a single flickering light bulb fixed above the back door. There wasn’t even a moon out that night. 

He seemed highly amused at the fact he was alone with you, and spun around to face you as soon as the door shut, a toothy smile plastered on his face once again. “I live nearby. We can walk if you want…”

You held his gaze once again, using your Persuasion once again to your advantage. “No…this is perfectly fine…” Grabbing his hand this time, you led him down the alley, further into the dark. There were a few dumpsters on either side that made a perfect barrier hide behind. 

Another round of cheers sounded off in the distance. The bar would be busy for at least another hour judging by the game time when you left, which was more than enough time to feed and get the fuck out of there. You looked up and he’s still looking at you with a dopey grin, the effects of your Persuasion still in effect. 

He looked at you, going from your eyes to your lips, and you did the same to him. You leaned forward, lips softly brushed against his, eyes closing on instinct. The next thing you knew you were getting backed into the wall, the kissing getting messier and more passionate by the second. His front teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a slight noise escaping you at the action. You wanted to reach up and tangle your hand into his curly hair, but he had a firm grip of both your hands at your sides. So you just rolled with it, enjoying making out with this human before feeding on him. And you were about to pull apart to use your Persuasion again to get him in position, to even tell him it wasn’t going to hurt so he wouldn’t scream or be in pain. That was until you felt something-

Burning.

Hot. 

Fucking heat. 

Your wrists were suddenly on fire and you broke away to look down at your wrists being bound by silver fucking handcuffs. The target tightened them down on your wrists as tight as they could go, and when you looked up at the bastard you felt another burning sensation on your neck.

 He was holding a silver knife against your throat. This mother fucker. 

“What the fuck?!”

“Jesus Christ, I thought your file said you were supposed to be over 300 years old and you fell for that?!” He almost laughed as he pressed the knife flat against your skin, the sound and smell of sizzling flesh wafting through the air. Of course he had a fucking file. Humans love their stupid paperwork. You were fucked. 

“Yeah your little trick of batting your lashes at me to get me to do what you want didn’t work. Not once.” How in the fuckedy-fuck did it not work?! He was glaring at you now, the sweet grinning man you found in the bar was gone, at least on the surface. Those big brown eyes of his looked nearly black now, the grip he had on one of your wrists tightening even more as if he was trying to click the cuff even tighter, burn even deeper into your flesh. 

He was one of them. For every supernatural creature there were humans that hunted them. And this wannabe Dean Winchester clearly hunted vampires. It had been awhile since you had run into a hunter. At this point of your undead life you formed your own set of rules to keep you out of trouble. However, you played them all to a T tonight, and yet here you were, up against the wall being subdued by the supernatural equivalent to a boy scout. 

The adrenaline was rolling through your body as you narrowed your eyes, and if you had had the strength you would’ve strangled him already. 

“Fine. Fine! Just let me go and I’ll fucking leave the city and no one has to make a mess out here.”

“You think I’m letting you go anywhere when there have been bodies piling up left and right between here and 3 counties over?” He snarled out, leaning even closer to your face. 

Bodies? You hadn’t fully killed anyone around here. Not yet anyway. To the brink of death, sure, you weren’t a saint and shit happens, but you definitely hadn’t left a trail of bodies anywhere. What the fuck was he talking about? But you didn’t care that much, you needed to get the fuck out of there before anyone saw. 

“Listen you’ve got the wrong Vampire here I-“

“The wrong one? You were literally about to feed off of me. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing for a second. As soon as you walked into that bar I knew what you were. Your kind isn’t very subtle, especially the older ones. You have to work on that act of yours, sweetheart. It wasn’t as convincing as you’d think.” The grin was back, but it was cocky now and paired with an obnoxious dimple in his left cheek. This asshole. 

The cheers erupted again, causing you both to look up at the sound. This was your chance. You still had enough strength in your legs to stoop on his foot with your full weight, causing him to lose grip on the knife and for you to knock it out of his hand with your useless hands and to skirt around him. You took off as fast as you could. Not as fast as your typical speed would allow, but faster than a human. Faster than that dickhead. 

You had to get these cuffs off of you as soon as possible, and you had to make sure you never saw that douche again, or else you might actually kill him this time. 

Part 2?

Tag List: @lightmylove-gvf , @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema ,

[tgmsunmontue]

Where do I know you from? 1/10

Hangster crackfic. There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

                Jake looks up and does a double take, because that definitely looks like Rooster walking into the Hard Deck, except he’s not got a moustache. And sure, he could have shaved it off in the few hours since Jake saw him, however the fact that the upper lip is also tanned tells him that it’s actually very unlikely that this is Rooster. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

                Weird.

                “Hey Jake…”

                Jake blinks. He’s not used to being called Jake. Not in a very long time, and not by people outside his family. This is very fucking odd.

                “Rooster…”

                “What? Where?”

                Okay. That’s not normal.

                “What’s your name?”

                Maybe Bradshaw has a twin brother he failed to mention.

                Or a doppelganger.

                Or this is a pod person.

                “Oh, are we roleplaying? Okay then, hi sailor, I’m Bradley Bradshaw, you in town for long? Don’t give me shit about my name. It’s why I’m taking yours when we get married, remember?”

                “When we what now?” Jake asks, eyebrow shooting up.

                “Jake, are you okay?”

                “Uh. No?” Jake says, because actually, he really isn’t.

                “Wait… you’re not my Jake.”

                “Your Jake?”

                “Yeah. My Jake. Huh. This is weird.”

                “You’re telling me,” Jake mutters, taking a quick look at his beer to double check that it is actually beer and not suddenly morphed into anything that would induce hallucinations of different versions of his colleague.

                Right.

                Because that’s how he thinks of Rooster.

                “I think I need a drink,” Rooster says, and he’s pulling out his wallet and heading to the bar, greeting Penny like he knows her and Jake isn’t sure what the fuck is going on.

                Then there’s another Rooster. Bradshaw? walking towards him and this one has a moustache, but is wearing a fucking business suit and he’s seen Rooster in formal suits, but not civilian wear and he’s starting to feel like there is something seriously wrong. A big something. Also what the fuck is he meant to call them all? They can’t all be Rooster. Or Bradshaw. Or even Bradley. Not that he’s ever called him Bradley, except in the tiniest corner of his brain in the early hour of the morning when he could deny it to even himself.

                “Oh! A piano! I haven’t played in ages…”

                Now Jake knows that’s a lie, because Rooster was here just last night, and Jake had been maudlin while watching his fingers tickling the ivory as he wondered if he’d ever get those fingers on him. He likes Rooster’s fingers a lot. Rooster One has drifted towards Rooster Two, is offering him a drink from his bottle of beer and they both looking at him and shaking their heads and Jake bristles a little at the looks on their faces, because they’re clearly not happy or impressed with him and he can’t help but be annoyed by that fact.

                “Hey. There are two of me here already,” a voice sounding identical to Bradley Bradshaw says, and he’s making himself comfortable in the chair beside Jake. This Rooster looks like his Rooster as well, apart from the glasses, which he has to admit kind of suit him, then again it would take a lot to make Bradley Bradshaw look unattractive.

                “You can see them too?”

                “Yep. And I’m thinking you’re the common denominator here. You’re not my Jake. You’re very close though. My Jake has a higher rank than you.”

                Jake blinks, a little incensed that this Rooster is also comparing him to another version of himself and he’s somehow lacking.

                “Fuck you too,” he mutters, and instead of throwing a punch this Rooster just laughs at him, gives him a flirty wink and nudges his shoulder with his own before ordering a beer and pointing at Jake.

                “Put it on his tab…”

                Penny raises an eyebrow and Jake shrugs helplessly, wonders if she’s seen weirder shit than three clones turn up in her bar.

                “Don’t worry, you’re still plenty pretty…”

                “And you’re an ass in every universe,” Jake snarks back and a sudden look of understanding or realization comes over Rooster Three’s face.

                “Alternate Universes…”

                “What?”

                “We’re all from Alternate or Parallel Universes. We’ve somehow slipped into your one. Question is, why?”

                “Fucked if I know…” Jake mutters, getting annoyed and taking a sip of his drink.

                Then the fourth Rooster walks in, wearing leather pants and has two full sleeves of ink and Jake just blinks, not even sure what to say or do. The third Rooster has gone over and introduced himself, is asking about Fourth Rooster’s tattoos like this is some kind of learning experience or conference and Jake thinks he’s starting to lose touch with reality.

                What the fuck is happening?

PART TWO

[everybodyshusband]

mushy may 2024 - day 1 ; cuteness aggression

pairing(s): aether/rain tags: sleep deprivation, semi-crack, domestic fluff words: approx. 800

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

“What’cha reading, Aeth?”

Aether startles and looks up at Rain’s voice, surprised to hear anyone else’s voice in the usually abandoned library. “Oh hey, Rainy. What’re you doing in the library? It’s late.”

Rain shakes his head and smiles in affectionate disbelief. “I came to get you, idiot. It’s late,” he mimics.

“Yeah, but it’s not that la–” A glance at the watch on his wrist is enough to shut Aether up. He sets his book down and scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck, where did the time go? I swear it was only seven about an hour ago.”

“And now it’ll be seven in about an hour,” Rain reminds him, holding out his hands ready to haul Aether to his feet. “C’mon, up you get, love. It’s way past your bedtime,” he teases.

“I can get up by myself,” Aether protests, but he still takes hold of the water ghoul’s hands and allows him to pull him and his stiff joints to his feet. He groans as his knees twinge from hours of disuse and his vision turns into static for a moment. Rain allows him a few moments to get his bearings before he’s taking the quintessence ghoul’s hand and gently guiding him back to the ghouls’ den.

“Have you eaten?” Rain asks him, pulling him around a corner and into the hidden short-cut corridor that Aether always forgets about.

He nods. “Grabbed leftovers from last night before I headed out, don’t you worry, Rainy.”

Rain hums, pleased. “Good. What’d you have?”

“Pasta.”

“Carbonara?” They’re almost at the ghoul den now. Aether really should begin to take note of all the hidden passages and shortcuts built into the Abbey’s architecture, they’ve shaved at least ten minutes off of an otherwise long and boring journey through the cold corridors.

“You know it.”

“How does Mount manage to make it so fucking well?” Rain almost takes a wrong turn, clearly preoccupied with the idea of stealing the last serving of leftover carbonara for breakfast.

“Magic?” Aether offers. He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Maybe he’s a pasta ghoul…”

Rain stops dead in his tracks. “Aeth, darling, light of my life,” he begins. “I love you more than life itself but I think the sleep deprivation might be getting to you.”

Aether shakes his head emphatically. “Nuh uh,” he protests. “Think about it. Pasta is made from wheat and where does wheat come from?”

Rain just stares at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“The earth!” Aether spreads his arms out wide, his eyes widening too, shocked that Rain isn’t as affected by this newfound discovery as he is.

Rain rolls his eyes and continues to drag Aether along, grinning uncontrollably at the absurdity of his adorably sleep deprived packmate. Aether doesn’t understand it, Rain shouldn’t be smiling, he should be horrified at the secret Mountain, their ‘earth’ ghoul has been keeping from them all these years!

The two of them make their way quietly to Aether’s room, ignoring the signs and sounds of life floating from the kitchen. The rest of the world may be waking up now, but Rain is adamant that Aether needs his sleep and who would Aether be if he ignored the wishes of the water ghoul who so kindly came to fetch him from working himself to madness in the library.

“I think you’re already there, love,” Rain says kindly. “Some sleep’ll put you right again though.”

Ah, he must have said that out loud.

“Yep, you did.”

Aether should really stop talking out loud in his head.

Rain stops seemingly for no reason and turns to face Aether. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, you’re too fucking cute when you’re sleepy!” He takes Aether’s face in his hands and smooshes his cheeks together.

“Wha’re you do’n’ ‘ainy?” He’s trying to ask Rain what he’s doing but his voice is all muffled from the water ghoul’s manipulation of his mouth.

“Squishing you,” Rain says simply. “Because I love you and I can’t handle how silly you get when you’re tired.” He takes a deep breath, stares at Aether’s face and suddenly, out of nowhere, screams. “Ahhh!” Right at Aether.

“I fink you ‘re ‘eepy ‘oo…” Aether hadn’t noticed until now but Rain must be tired as well, he’s got a ring of darkness underneath his eyes that differs from his usual markings.

Rain lets go of Aether’s face and the quintessence ghoul wiggles his jaw, getting used to the feeling of being in command of his own muscles again. “...That may be a possibility.”

Aether grabs Rain’s hand and leads him in the direction of his bedroom. “C’mon, we’ll both go sleep.” He narrows his eyes as they walk past Mountain’s door. “An’ then we can talk about Mountain being made of pasta…”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Miles to Go

TW: Without giving too much away, the following fic contains discussion of/allusions to mental health issues, violence, and gore- please read at your own discretion

—————

7 minutes and 39 seconds.

You tear your gaze away from the large analogue clock mounted on the wall and refocus your attention on the blonde in the corner who’s been muttering to himself since he entered the lobby nearly eight minutes ago. Shuffling some papers around on the desk in front of you, you lean down to whisper to one of the receptionists. “Has that young man checked in for an appointment? Or spoken with any of you yet?”

She follows your line of sight to the male who can’t be more than thirty, his brow now furrowed as he animatedly whispers to his left. The seat beside him is empty. She shakes her head and you let out a quizzical little, “Hm.”

It’s not uncommon for addicts to wander into the VA hospital, unsure if they’re looking for help or a hit. Either way, you didn’t go through four-plus years of medical school to turn away someone who’s clearly in need of assistance.

Approaching slowly in the hopes of mitigating any panic, you stop before the young man and wait for him to look up at you. With a smile, you point to the seat beside him and open with, “Hi, can I sit there?” He glances worriedly to his left again, then shakes his head.

“Okay, that’s alright. I’m Doctor Gibbs. What’s your name?”

“Can’t- can’t say. He said I shouldn’t talk to anyone.”

“Okay, hon,” you offer gently, letting out a small groan as you squat down and your knees creak in protest. How are you only 47 but your body feels ancient? You should really stop teasing your husband about his age. “I won’t ask you to talk then. Can I ask you a couple of questions, and you just give me a nod yes or no?”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze and you take a moment to study his features. Dull eyes. Mydriasis. Ulcerated bottom lip, likely from a nervous habit of chewing it. He scratches his cheek, and you notice a patch of stubble that he missed while shaving. He jerks his head down once, and you realize he’s agreeing to your offer.

“Do you know where you are?” A nod.

“Do you need some help?” A nod, and then after a beat, he shakes his head vigorously.

“Okay,” you soothe, “that’s alright.” He drops his gaze to his bouncing leg and you take the opportunity to scan him from head to toe. His hair is disheveled, beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. He’s donning a bulky sweatshirt and jeans despite the oppressive June heat, and he has on mud-coated work boots. He anxiously scratches the same spot on his cheek, and you see a glint of metal on his ring finger. “You’re a Marine?” A nod followed by a wry twisting of his lips and a subtle shake of his head. “Not anymore,” he rasps out.

“My husband was in the Corps, too. Semper Fi, right? Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

“No!” he barks back, jerking his head up with a fire in his eyes. “Andrew said not anymore. They made us hurt people- innocent people.” His sudden movement has caused his hoodie to shift, and you swallow roughly at what’s been revealed underneath.

“Andrew’s your friend?” He nods once more. “Did he come here with you today?” His eyes shift to his left then back to you, narrowed, before he bows his head.

“Can’t talk to you anymore,” he mumbles. “Drew says we can’t trust anyone.”

“Okay,” you respond softly, instinctively reaching out to lay a hand on him for comfort before retracting your arm. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. I have some appointments to deal with, but I’ll be back, alright? You and Drew wait here.” You can feel his gaze on your back as you return to the safety of the desk.

Grabbing a notepad and pen, you ask your receptionist to run through the day with you as you jot down some thoughts. “…and then your last one’s at 4:30, but they requested to move it up if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you answer her with a smile. “These are my progress notes from Harry’s appointment this morning. Can you enter them and send a copy to his PT?” You tear off the top sheet and hand it to her, watching her eyes flash before she quickly controls her facial expression. “You’ve got it, Gibbs.”

With a quick squeeze of her shoulder you murmur, “You’re the best.”

As your receptionist heads back to relay your message to the nursing staff, you pick up the receiver from its cradle on the desk and dial your husband’s number. The sound of his voice, the warm rumble of his usual “Hey, honey,” instantly soothes you, and the smile on your face is genuine despite your heart hammering in your chest.

“Hi, my love,” you answer in kind, the nail of your index finger scratching away at the cuticle of your thumb. “We’re still on for dinner at David’s on J street, right? I’m worried we might have to push our reservation back.”

On the other end of the line, the NCIS agent snaps for his team’s attention as he puts his cellphone on speaker. “Write down everything she says, word for word,” he instructs McGee, placing the phone down on the younger agent’s desk. “Dinner at David’s on J street.” Brow furrowed, he returns his focus to you. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Jay, I’m gonna make it to dinner,” you laugh breezily, keeping an eye on the lobby as it steadily empties out. The young man seems to have noticed too, the bouncing of his leg growing more rapid and his eyes darting back and forth between the hallway leading to the exam rooms and you at the desk. “I’ve been eyeing up the dessert menu since my lunch break and the Alaska sounds amazing. I can’t wait to-”

“Put the phone down!”

In the span of a heartbeat, the blonde has crossed the lobby and now stands in front of you, his hoodie open and revealing a rainbow of wiring. He’s gripping something tightly in a shaky fist, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sight. Putting your hands up in a placating gesture, you say, “Let’s all stay calm, okay? You, me, and Andrew. We’re going to do this together.” You can hear Jethro through the phone still, calling your name.

Daring a glance around the lobby, you breathe a sigh of relief seeing that it’s only the two of you remaining. “Can I tell him goodbye before I hang up? It’s just my husband, and I don’t want him to worry,” you explain softly.

His jaw twitches, and he looks to the empty seat behind him before turning back to you and nodding. Lifting the phone to your ear again, you say, “Jay, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you.”

You return the phone to its cradle, then crane your neck to gesture to the seating area in the lobby. “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable? I want to help you, but I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

He shakes his head, doleful eyes watching your every move.

“Then let’s just talk here,” you suggest. “They made you hurt people before, right? You don’t want to do that again.”

“You don’t-” He shakes his head again, more forcefully this time, and flexes his fingers around the object in his hand. “You don’t know me.”

“You’re right,” you answer, slowly lowering your hands and instead offering open palms in an attempt to build trust. “I don’t know you, but I do want to help you. I’m a doctor, and it’s my job to help people like you. Like you and Andrew.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he turns back to you and drops his voice before confiding, “He said if I do this then I can sleep. I just want to sleep.”

A wave of sorrow washes over the fear roiling in your gut. “Let me help you,” you plead, ever so slowly extending your arms to reach toward him. You curl your fingers around his hand, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “That’s it,” you coach as his grip slackens bit by bit. “Nice and easy, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Panic floods his eyes then, adrenaline making his pupils so wide that you can barely see the blue ring of his irises around them. “Don’t!” He wrenches his hand out of yours, chest heaving with shaky breaths, and you take a step back to give him space. “If I let this go now,” he pants, “we both die.”

“Somebody get me eyes in that hospital right now!” Gibbs barks at his team, halfway across the city. He stares at his phone in utter disbelief, willing your melodic voice to come back through the offending device. Just making sure you remember our code, old man, you’d tease. See you at home.

“Gibbs?” Ziva’s hand on his arm has him hurtling back to reality, concern tightening her features as she tries to get his attention. In a rare show of affection, Gibbs places his hand over her own, squeezing it gratefully. “I’m alright.” She registers an emotion swimming in his eyes that she’s never seen before in their leader, and it sends a chill down her spine- fear.

“Let’s figure out what she was trying to tell us.” He gestures for the team to huddle up once more around McGee’s desk where the tech savvy agent is trying to access the camera feed in your hospital.

“There’s no J Street in D.C.,” Ducky points out.

“No, there’s not,” his friend agrees, then explains, “When this crazy girl decided she wanted to put up with me for life, we decided that would be our code if either of us was ever in danger. Never thought I’d hear it, though,” he laughs wryly and shakes his head.

Tony presses further, “And what about David’s? Is that where you had your first date or something?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Gibbs responds.

“Boss, I’ve got today’s security footage,” Tim pipes up, and all heads swivel to his monitor.

“Is it live?”

McGee shakes his head, pursing his lips in consternation. “It’s going to take me some time to hack into the live feed, but I have what’s been archived from the day so far.”

“Skip ahead to 12:30.” Dozens of patients and scrub-clad employees scramble around on the screen in what would be comedic fashion had the situation been different. “There!” Your husband spots you on the screen, your white coat standing out in the lobby. He traces your line of sight to a male seated by himself in the corner of the room. Pointing at the screen, he asks, “Can you zoom in on him?”

McGee does as requested, the young man’s grainy visage coming into view. “I’ll run this through facial rec.”

“Look for any association with an ‘Andrew,’ too,” Gibbs tacks on, recalling your mentioning that name.

“Something is not right here,” Ziva notes, squinting as she gets even closer to the monitor. “Why is he wearing a sweatshirt in this awful weather?”

“Alaska!” Ducky cries out suddenly, and everyone’s attention turns to him. “That’s what Y/N was trying to tell us.”

“Enlighten the rest of us, Duck,” Gibbs says roughly.

“Jethro,” his dear friend starts regretfully, “I’m afraid you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“I’m going to get you out of this,” you say with conviction, your voice strong and steady in direct opposition to your shaky hands. “Look at me.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, and he has the distinct visage of a scared little boy. “I’m going to get you out of this,” you repeat, willing him to believe your words. As you look over the convoluted wiring, you ask, “Can you tell me your name? I’m Y/N.”

“I’m- I’m…”

“… Petty Officer Sean Cassidy, twenty-seven years old,” McGee supplies. “Looks like he enlisted with his best friend, Andrew Duggan, fresh out of high school. Cassidy and Duggan were on a mission with a joint task force in Afghanistan that got taken out by a jihadist group with an IED. Only Cassidy survived…” McGee’s voice trails off as he scrolls through more documentation, “…but he was in a medically induced coma for nearly two years. He was honorably discharged during that time and just returned to civilian life three months ago.”

“Talk about survivor’s guilt,” Tony sighs. “Add in some PTSS and lack of follow-up and we’ve got the perfect storm.”

“Uh, Gibbs?” Ziva’s voice rises in pitch as she calls out from her spot in front of the flatscreen. “You are going to want to see this.”

The senior most agent curses under his breath, watching the ticker tape scroll along the bottom of the screen: Live hostage situation at Liberty VA Hospital. Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, he tosses the company car keys to DiNozzo. Pointing at McGee he says, “You stay here and keep us updated on what’s going on. Get me access to those cameras. David, DiNozzo, you’re with me.”

“You’re doing really well, Sean,” you say softly. “My friend is an expert with these, and I really think she could help us. Will you let me call her?”

He swallows thickly, and a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “Promise me it’s not a trick.”

“I promise.”

He drops his head into a nod, and you slide your cellphone out of your back pocket before searching for ‘Ziva’ in your contacts and clicking on her name. The phone barely rings twice before the line crackles to life. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Z,” you answer, unsure if you’re trying to reassure her or yourself. “I’m here with my friend, Sean-”

“Don’t say my name,” he hisses, stealing a glance at the chair in the corner.

“It’s okay, son, we already know your name.” Your husband’s voice, strong and steady in the face of danger, has your bottom lip involuntarily quivering. “Is Andrew with you guys, too?”

“You can trust my husband, Sean,” you whisper. “He’ll understand.”

He worries at the spot on his bottom lip, breaking the damaged skin again and causing blood to ooze out, before seemingly making up his mind. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” Gibbs responds, and you can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on, Sean?”

“I just-” Tears well in his eyes, and your heart lurches. For the second time that day, you find yourself thinking He’s just a kid. “I just want to sleep, sir.”

“Ya having nightmares?”

“I hear their screams every time I close my eyes,” he whispers.

“I used to have nightmares, too,” Jethro confesses, “every damn night.”

“But not anymore?” Sean asks, hopeful.

“I, um-” He clears his throat before continuing, and you know he’s recalling how you two first met. “I got some help from Doctor Gibbs, actually.” In the car, Ziva and Tony silently exchange a glance. “She can help you, too, Sean. And Andrew.”

Training his baby blues on you, the young Marine lets out a heavy breath before quietly confessing, “I don’t want to die, sir.”

“Sean,” you interject, “no one’s going to die here today. I told you I’m going to get you out of this and I meant what I said, okay?”

“Listen, we’re still ten minutes out, but there’s a bomb tech outside who can-”

“No!” Sean suddenly grows agitated, forcefully shaking his head as he begins pacing the lobby and yelling, “No, no, no! You said this wasn’t a trick!” Wheeling on you, he demands, “Were you lying to me?”

Still cradling your phone, you put your hands up in deference and calmly reassure him, “It’s not a trick, I promise. I’m not trained to-”

Gone is the fear from his voice, his now icy tone sending a shiver down your spine. “If anybody tries to come inside this building, I’ll take the whole thing down with us in it.”

“Jethro,” you order, “tell them to back off. We’re fine on our own.” Trying to calm his frenetic steps, you ask him, “Can you walk me through how to disarm this thing?”

“I don’t-” With his free hand, he scratches the spot of stubble once more. “I don’t remember. Drew helped me, he’s good at engineering and stuff.”

Son of a bitch. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you offer, “Maybe Drew can show me what to do.”

His brows furrow as he searches around the room. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, Tim, what is it?” Gibbs picks up his phone as the company car squeals into the parking lot outside your hospital, Tony and Ziva still tuned into your conversation with Sean. “I’ve got the live footage, Boss. There’s no audio but I can patch the feed in to-”

“Here, Tony.” He hands the phone over to his agent who’s booting up a tablet in the back seat, then steps out of the car to speak with HRT. “Gibbs, NCIS,” he announces his arrival, flashing his badge. “My wife’s in there with a former Marine, and we’ve already established a rapport.”

“I’ve got Alpha and Bravo teams stationed at the front and back exits, ready to go on your command, sir,” the team leader says.

“Tell your men to stand down,” Gibbs orders. “No sirens, no lights, no bullhorns. He’s a kid, a scared kid who just needs some help.”

“All due respect, sir, I think we should breach soon. As you said, your wife is in there with him.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs snarls, stepping closer until their noses are nearly touching, “and if you go in there trigger happy and his finger slips off that detonator, you’ll be in the ground before your next breath. Stand. Down.”

“Okay, Y/N,” Ziva begins, “McGee’s got us access through the camera in the lobby so we can see what you see. I am going to take you through this step by step. Do you have some scissors? Or a scalpel, I guess?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you smile as you slide your utility knife from your pants pocket, an anniversary gift from your Marine. “Rule number nine.”

“That’s my girl,” Gibbs murmurs, watching you on the small screen.

“I know it looks complicated, but it is a pretty simple setup,” Ziva continues coaching you, the steady cadence of her voice giving you strength. “You are going to make three precise cuts, Y/N. Green, then blue, then red. Got it?”

Placing your phone on the floor next to you so both hands are free, you mentally prepare yourself, and after locking eyes with Sean, you nod. “Green, blue, red. Stay still for me, okay?”

Heart hammering against your ribcage, you say a silent prayer that you’ll make it home to your husband tonight, the opposite of your usual morning mantra. Then, you suck in a deep breath and make the first cut.

Finding yourself still in one piece, you move your hands to the blue wire. “One down, two to go. We’re almost there, Sean.”

“We’re almost there,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as you slice through the blue.

“Hey, Jay?” you call, delicately moving the cut pieces aside to reach the final wire. “You remember what I said on our first date when you tried to convince me not to date you?”

The NCIS agent absentmindedly reaches for the ring on his left hand, anxiously twisting it around his finger. “You said ‘I like a little adventure in my life’,” he recalls fondly, clearing his throat after his voice breaks on the last word.

“Well, baby,” you murmur, “here’s to adventure.”

“Open your eyes, Sean,” you say softly. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?” You help the young blonde peel his fingers off of the detonator, then slowly, carefully, remove his hoodie and the vest from his body. “We’re going to get you the help you need, and you’re finally going to be able to rest.”

“Doctor Gibbs,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I’m sorry. It’s just that- well, sometimes, I feel like I’m still there and-”

“You’re okay,” you soothe, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm and try to ground him to reality. “You’re okay, Sean. When you’re ready, we’ll go outside together so you can talk to my husband, alright? Why don’t we sit down for a few minutes and-”

The distinct sound of helicopter blades whirring overhead drowns your voice out, and you see Sean’s eyes flood with panic once more. Snatching up your phone from its spot on the ground, you yell, “Get that chopper out of here right now! Ziva? Can you hear me?”

Sean begins pacing frantically, gnawing on his lip with renewed fervor and scratching the same spot on his cheek. “Sean, look at me,” you plead, lowering your voice as the noise outside mercifully dies down. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

He stops and turns to you, clearly confused and agitated. “Where’s Drew?”

“I’m sure he’s just outside, waiting for us.”

Sean lets out a frustrated grunt and shakes his head. “No, no, he’s supposed to be here with me. I need to know where he is.” He reaches into his back pocket, and you see the smallest blip of red shift from the wall to his chest.

You scream out, “Get down,” but your words are drowned out by the shattering of glass from behind you.

Dropping to your knees, you pull as much of his body into your lap as you can, pressing down on the freshly blooming wound in his chest. “Somebody help me!” Your throat feels raw but you yell out again, desperate for somebody outside the thick walls of the building to hear you.

Sean looks up at you with wide eyes, and somehow he looks even younger now. Bile floods your mouth, but you swallow it back down. “Don’t give up on me, okay? We’re in a hospital, we’re going to get you help.”

His eyelids flutter and he grimaces as he releases the cellphone from his grip and lifts his hand to cover yours. “Please- Please don’t leave me.”

Tears blurring your vision, you answer, “I’m not going anywhere,” your voice a lot stronger than you feel right now. Craning your neck behind you, you yell in another futile attempt, “Someone please, help us!”

When you turn back to Sean, his breathing has grown more shallow. “Don’t you leave me,” you implore, pressing your hands even harder against his chest and willing the rivulets of red to stop flowing between your fingers. You want to close your eyes, want to turn away, but you won’t let him leave this world feeling alone and afraid. Maintaining pressure with your left hand, you cup his cheek with your right and brush your thumb over his cheekbone. Mustering up a soft smile, you whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”

And then his body goes slack beneath your fingertips.

You throw your entire weight into performing chest compressions, breathing out ragged puffs of One, two, three, four, five, your body going into autopilot even as the pool of blood growing beneath you taunts that he’s not coming back.

Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, you whip around and demand with a snarl, “What the hell took you so long? Help me!” You turn back to Sean and keep pumping against his chest, your own heaving with exertion and the force of keeping your sorrow at bay.

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder gently pulling you away, and Jethro whispers a single word that shatters the dam. “Honey.”

You collapse against him, sobbing, and he tucks you into his chest. Curling your bloodied hands against your body, you garble through tears, “I could’ve saved him, Jay. Why didn’t they let me save him?”

Jethro doesn’t say anything, just holds you in his lap until the flurry of activity around you becomes too much to handle. You look up at him with bloodshot eyes, and he immediately understands, standing and helping you up, then walking you out to the periphery of the crime scene. An EMT rushes over, gently curling a trauma blanket around your suddenly frail body, and guides you to sit on the edge of the ambulance. You see her lips moving but are unable to make out her words through the buzzing in your ears. “…Ma’am? Ma’am?” Failing to get a response from you, she turns to your husband with a worried glance and says, “I think she’s in shock.”

“I’m fine, dammit,” you snap, “I’m a fucking doctor.”

She takes a step back at the ferocity in your voice, and Jethro puts a hand on your face, forcing you to look at him. “Let her take care of you. Please?”

His gentle tone softens the broken bits of you, and you turn back to the EMT. With a shudder, you whisper, “I’m sorry, I don’t- It’s been a really long day. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” she murmurs. “I just want to check your vitals and then you’re finally going to be able to rest.”

Her words harken back to your final moment of calm with the young Marine, and you numbly hold out your arm as she fits the blood pressure cuff around your bicep. Tears trickling down your cheeks, you watch the coroner’s gurney roll across the parking lot. At least you can finally get some sleep.

[A/N: Please know I did a bunch of research while writing this to try and do justice to these very real mental health conditions, and I sincerely apologize if I misrepresented them in any way. I was inspired by an early episode of NCIS and a later line in the show where Ducky talks about DC not having a “J street”. It’s also my first foray into a fic that doesn’t wrap up all nice and pretty, so I wanted to push myself as an author. I’m always open to feedback and ways to amend/improve my writing, so please let me know if you have suggestions or can help me make the character’s portrayal more accurate. As always, thank you for reading 🖤]

[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

stubble

pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female Reader word count: 1532 warnings: established relationship, smut, daddy dom joon, dirty talk, oral sex, vaginal fingering, explicit language, sex in the studio AO3 A/N: Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

It was no secret to all of army that long black hair on Namjoon looked really, really hot. And after he shared that video on his instagram story… well, let's just say you had fun seeing army's reaction to it.

Unlucky for them however, since you were the only one able to enjoy such a treat, up close and personal.

But as much as you had to control yourself unless you wanted to be compared to a lioness pouncing on a zebra, there was a part of you that was a little apprehensive about letting your boyfriend go down on you again.

Mostly because your friends had filled your head with thoughts, such as: 'stubble is like sandpaper on your crotch', 'it's uncomfortable and scratchy', 'if you shave everything down there, then you're gonna be hyper sensitive', 'stubble leaves your thighs raw'.

So, with those phrases circling in your mind it didn't come as a shock that whenever you and your boyfriend were in a heavy make-out session you'd stop him before things went too far, something that has happened multiple times at this point.

The worst part wasn't even that you were blue-balling both yourself and him, it was the look he would get in his eyes when you denied him.

Namjoon would look like a sad golden retriever, giving his best puppy eyes while trying to hide that he wasn't as hurt as he actually was.

You just couldn't take this anymore.

So this morning, you decided to call your older sister for help, given that her husband had a beard himself, she would be the better person for the job.

And also, at that point, you had given up on searching google for answers because every website you went into was just a repeat of what your friends had said.

You called your sister and explained the situation, being met with silence once you were finished for a couple of seconds before your sister started barking at you.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is why you called? Stop reading shit online and talk to him, this is a preference type of thing. If you like it you like it, if you don't you don't, there's nothing more to it," with that she hanged up in your face, although rude your sister did have a point, this was something you needed to talk to your boyfriend about instead of just wallowing in what-ifs.

You waited until it was lunchtime to go to Namjoon's studio, knocking on the door and sending a message for good measure.

Your boyfriend opened the door a couple of seconds later, greeting you with a dimple smile and a peck on the lips.

"Hey baby," he stepped aside to let you in before closing the door behind you. His smile faltering slightly at your aloofness. "Everything okay?"

"Y-yeah, it's just that, I need to talk to you," you started playing with your fingers, clearly nervous. But in all fairness, how does one tell their partner that you're scared that their stubble might hurt you even though it's because of said stubble that they're ten times more attractive in your eyes?

Namjoon took hold of your hand and walked towards the couch, taking a seat and pulling you to him, making you sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles in order to calm you down.

Both of you stood in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, your head on his shoulder with his leaning against yours, pecking it every once in a while.

With a sigh, you decided to finally speak. "You're probably wondering why I always want to stop before we have sex,"

"It has crossed my mind," he lifted his head and stared at you. "Was it something I did?"

"No!" you lifted your head so fast, that one could almost assume that you could've gotten whiplash. God, what have you done? You had made this wonderful man feel bad about himself, all because you let your friends' words get to you. "No, it wasn't anything you did. Well, kinda, it's more because of your stubble."

"My… stubble?" Namjoon asked, clearly confused by your words, one of his hands leaving your hips and grazing it through the hairs on his chin and lower cheeks. "Is there a problem with it?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean- ugh," you groaned at the frustration of not being able to explain yourself clearly, the snort your boyfriend let out not helping in the slightest. "I just that- I told my friends about it and they told me that stubble is sandpaper, and then I went online and there were so many people saying the same."

Of course, your explanation only led to more questions. "Sandpaper? Wh-what are you talking about?"

You whined in frustration. "It's just that, stubble is like sandpaper, like it can scratch the crotch and the inside of the thighs because it's super prickly."

"Ah," he nodded understandingly, scratching his facial hair. "You could've told me earlier and I would've shaved."

"I talked to my sister and she said it's a preference thing, don't knock it until you try it," you lower your head on his shoulder again, hiding your face. "I also don't want you to, it looks good on you. Hot, even."

Your boyfriend snorted again, followed by quiet chuckling. "Oh really?"

You hummed in agreement and then, before you could even blink, Namjoon gripped your waist and made you lay down on the couch, adjusting himself so that he was fully on top of you.

"Wh-what are y-you doing?" it was a redundant question, the look in his eyes was saying everything you needed to know.

"You've put me through hell the last couple of days babygirl," he gripped your chin and smashed your lips together. You gasp at the force of his actions, allowing him to insert his tongue inside of your mouth and dominating yours easily. The dance of tongues didn't last very long, however, for he pulled away from you, unbuttoning your shorts and pulling both it and your panties out, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor before putting both of your legs on his shoulders. "It's time for you to make up to daddy, don't you think?"

"Yes daddy," after everything you've put him through you decided that you'd be his obedient good girl, for now at least.

Namjoon arched a brow at you, a little doubtful of your words but he shrugged them off.

He gripped your ass cheeks as he pulled your dripping cunt closer to his lips, spreading kisses on the inside of your thighs, letting you have a taste of what was to come. "You ready?"

At your nod your boyfriend licked a fat stripe of your slit before burying his face in your pussy, making you arch your back.

He was relentless.

Lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking and flicking, the stubble prickling you increasing the sensation and making you reach your high that much faster.

With a moan against your cunt Namjoon separated from you, replacing his lips by slipping two fingers inside you, scissoring them at a fast pace.

Unconsciously, you started moving your hips in tune with his hand, as you clenched around his fingers and you let out moans and cries, all for daddy.

"Do you like this baby?" he said, curling his fingers with precision against your sweet spot.

"Uh-huh," the inside of your thighs were going to be raw, but fuck if you cared about any of that right now.

"Do you want to cum princess?" he said inserting a third finger into you and enveloping his lips around your clit once again, sucking on it as if his life depended on it.

"Yes," you moaned out, feeling so close you could taste it. "D-Daddy please."

No more words were necessary, at your whine Namjoon's movements increased in speed, so much so that it wasn't long before the knot broke and you released all over your boyfriend, drenching the lower half of his face, all the way to the top of his shirt, in your wetness.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from you, making sure to lap up all of your juices, not letting a single drop go to waste before removing himself from you to grab your clothes.

He crouched down so he could be face-to-face with you, running his fingers through your hair as you regained your breath. "How was it?"

"Good. Really, really good," he gave you a dimple smile at your words. "We're gonna have to do this again."

Namjoon tried not to laugh but his shaking shoulders betrayed him. "You know I'm gonna shave any day now,"

"I know," you moved one of your hands to graze his facial hair. "I'll miss it every day."

Your boyfriend snorted. "It'll grow back eventually," his face moved closer to yours and he pecked your nose. "Until then," his lips captured yours in a slow kiss, meant to take your breath away. "Why don't you go home and wait for me so we can continue this later?"