A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM NAMJOONNNNNNNNNN!!! Love of my life, seriously. I have some many feels towards this man, ahhhhh
Anyway! Please enjoy this story! I’m not sure if there will be more following this, but if there is, I’ll be writing it at my own pace, whenever I feel like it, so ^^ fair warning~
In the meantime, please enjoy! It’s been a while since I posted the prologue, so if you need a refresher, or haven’t read it, I suggest you go and do that~ <3
You’re too tipsy to deal with anyone else tonight. Dragging
your friend’s home from the bar had been trouble enough—especially when
multiple male demons had paused you along your route to flirt and offer
companionship for the night. Somehow you’d managed to convince them to turn
down the strange offers, and had finally
managed to shove them through the front door of their apartment building. You
hadn’t even bothered walking them up to their floor, too fed up and tired and horny (you blame it on the alcohol) to
even think about wasting another second on their drunken asses.
Managing to hurriedly walk home to your own apartment, you
tumble inside and lock the door behind you. Third level rarely has many crimes,
but you can never be too safe—especially when the residents of each level are
allowed to travel freely…for the most part.
Dragging yourself through the tiny kitchen of your studio
style flat, you pad into the main area and pull your tight fitting shirt over
your head, shivering as the soft fabric brushes over perky nipples. Despite
your minds weak protests, you’d decided to be a little…adventurous in your
evening out, and had ventured around town without a bra. It excited you—like
your own little secret…unless someone was sharp enough to notice, but at that
point they’d earned the treat of knowing anyways.
Sighing blissfully, you sensually coast your hands across
your chest, gripping the soft mounds. The artificially made moonlight
illuminates every inch of your body, but on the third story of the building
with no one else around, you can’t be bothered to draw the curtains, far too
occupied by the way your vagina aches for more with each tug of your nipples
between your fingers.
Head lolling back, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks,
you continue to pleasure yourself, crafting an imaginary scene behind your
eyelids to aid the growing pool of heat between your legs. Immediately, like
all the other times, a tall, dark figure comes to mind. You can’t see the face
of the man, but his body is sinful—his hands possessive as he grabs at you. You
imagine him feasting on your breasts—all tongue and teeth—his vocabulary sinful
as he stakes his claim, making you his.
“Fuck…,” you breathe hotly, your panties becoming soaked,
and you hurry to undress yourself. Looping your thumbs under the band of your
pants and also your panties, you tug them down in one fell swoop, kicking them
from around your ankles and tossing yourself onto your bed.
One of your hands coasts down the expanse of your chest and
stomach, migrating between your thighs. Your wetness immediately covers your
fingers as you pull apart your folds, clit throbbing with anticipation.
Digging your heels into the messy sheets, you arch upward, a
wanton gasp leaving your lips the second your fingers touch your most sensitive
bud. Rubbing the swollen area slowly, you dip your digits down towards your
opening, coating yourself in your wetness.
However, before you get the chance to touch your clit and
pleasure yourself to your release, you’re interrupted. There’s a tap at your
balcony window, and your eyes shoot open, blood running cold when you see a man
sitting there, smirk on his face.
And not just any man…its Jungkook.
“Yah!” you screech at him as he innocently tugs at the glass
door wall, happiness apparent on his features when he finds that it’s not
locks. Sliding it open, clearly not caring of your state of undress or the fact
that you’re bounding to your feet, haphazardly wrapping the white bed sheet
around yourself, Jungkook steps inside.
“Maybe I should hang around your apartment more often,” he
comments teasingly as he glances you up and down, and you scowl, knowing that
he can tell how red your face has turned.
For the most part, you’re unfamiliar with Jungkook, but you
know him. Everyone does. And for the most part, in return, he knows everyone.
It’s his job to keep track of third level residents, after all, so he’d made a
point to become acquainted with everyone. So, in the most basic sense, you know
him. You’d encountered him maybe about a dozen time during your stay, and none
had been unpleasant—in fact, you’d actually sort of taken a liking to his fun
yet somewhat shy personality. But now—with him approaching you slowly, hidden
intent marking his gaze—you’re wondering where that dash of shyness went, and
if you’d ever known him at all.
“Y/N,” he beckons, voice calm. Jungkook extends his hand
towards you, and your heart thrums, fingers twitching at your side because even
though you have no goddamn clue as to why he’s here, he’s…tempting.
But you hold your ground, not giving in, your eyes narrowing
“Why are you here?”
Jungkook grins and rolls his eyes. “You ask too many
Before you can blink, Jungkook is suddenly chest-to-chest
with you, your nipples poking through the sheet and pressing into his sculpted
“Hey–!” you begin to protest—because that’s the first damn
question you’ve asked!—but Jungkook silences you with his lips, his tongue
lapping up your surprised gasp and contented moan. Sadly, your contentment
doesn’t last long—shattering the moment Jungkook grabs the end of the sheet
you’re using to shield yourself and tugs—hard.
His strength obviously inhuman, you’re sent spinning and are
only saved from sure disaster to yourself and your apartment by the fact that
Jungkook grabs you—his hands steady on your waist as he waits for your head to
“You asshole!” is the first thing you cry, pounding your
fist against his chest, knowing that he probably doesn’t even feel it. Having
the balls to laugh at your futile efforts to detach yourself from him, Jungkook
slips his hands down your sides—causing you to shiver—and grips each of your
ass cheeks. He then proceeds to lift you up, leaning backwards so your chest is
pressed flush to his, and without warning launches backwards and flies from
your apartment window.
“Jungkook!” you scream, goosebumps prickling your skin as
the night air rushes over you. Down below you can see buildings and a few
scarce people in the late hours of the night, but that doesn’t fix your
embarrassment in the least. Jungkook—the goddamn little shit of a guardian—is
holding you by your ass, naked, and flying you over the entire damn city.
“Yes?” he finally responds, humor in his voice, and you
match his gaze, eyes ablaze.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” you hiss in a harsh whisper,
not wanting to be seen or heard, dear god.
“Put me down this instant!”
“Yeah?” he grins, licking his lips, and all of the sudden
his grip on your ass disappears. You startle, eyes going wide as you fall away
Before you can even finish there’s a strong hand on your
ankle, and you squeal as you flip upside down, hair falling down towards the
fading city below.
scream, attempting to clench your legs together, but it seems Jungkook has
already gotten a perfect eyeful of your attributes, his teasing gaze now filled
with undeniable hunger.
“I’m jealous,” he says, flipping you with ease, cradling you
in his arms as if you’re a princess. “But He’s already asked for you, so I
can’t lay my claim.”
You blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What the hell is
he talking about?
“What? Who asked for me? What the fuck is going on,
Jungkook. You literally just came into my home and stole me away—while I was
naked, mind you, which is unkind—to me and everyone, considering no one needs
to see what it is I’ve got going on.”
Jungkook snorts a laugh. “What you’ve got going on, Y/N, is
something I wish I’d noticed sooner—”
“Oh hush. You’re a baby.”
Pausing, Jungkook’s gaze darkens, tinting with dominance,
his eyes flashing a hypnotic color of red.
“If you ever come back to third level and are returned to my
domain, I promise I’ll show just how
wrong you are…”
You gulp, thighs tightening as the threat tugs on the orgasm
which you had been unable to reach just a few minutes earlier. You want to ask
him what he’d do—because dear god the thought is suddenly so wonderful to
imagine—but more importantly…
“Why would I not come back to third level?? Jungkook, where
the fuck are you taking me?”
Author’s Note: someone stop kim taehyung 2k17 Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (oc; female) Genre: Classical Violinist!Tae; smut; au Summary: As Taehyung’s Muse, he often calls you when he needs you the most. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit sex; dirty talk; spanking; light edging Word Count: 3,643
When you arrive, the first, and only, sound you hear is the sound of him playing. Rigorous, frustrated, passionate, he presses against the strings with fervor, his strong arm turning the violin into thunder. His rhythm is pointed, sure, the speed of his bow against the strings wild in its fury and arresting in its perfection. Already, he is possessing you, controlling the flow of your blood with the movements of his fingers - and you are not even near enough to see him.
Reggie x Reader: Fingers and thumbs, baby. (Part II)
A/N: OMG your responses were amazing! Enjoy Part II <3 </p>
Warning: Slight Angst
Plot: When Reggie and (Y/N) have been bestfriends their whole lives but the universe had other plans.
Tell that sadist she
only have one more hour.
You ignored another text from Reggie, giving your red-headed
bestfriend your attention. The neon lights from Pop’s literally only made your
bestfriend more intimidating and unearthly. This week really passed by fast and before you knew it, it was a Friday and you are hanging out with Cheryl in your usual both in Pop’s while waiting for your other favorite person to arrive and pick you up.
“Is that cretin
annoying you again?”
“Cherryyy.” You whined knowing
where this conversation was going. Even with their mutual love for you, Reggie
and Cheryl just couldn’t seem to get along with each other. That’s why you had
to make sure you gave them equal attention which resulted to them having to
deal with sharing you every once in a while.
“Okay,” she sighed raising
her hands up in surrender. “This is
me,” Cheryl said as she folded her hands at the table neatly on top of
each other “, being nice.”
She mustered up a smile which quickly fell. “Now let’s stop talking about that dunce. I’m sure he was just
counting down the hours before he can have you for himself aguuuuhn.”
“Well, you did
lose the ‘rocks-paper-scissors’ on where I would be sleeping over this
weekend.” (Y/N) said as a matter of factly. It was truly comical to see
the two of the most intimidating figures of Riverdale high fighting over you in
a game of rocks-papers-and-scissors if you do say so yourself.
love and you know it.” Cheryl sipped on her – your milkshake – as if to prove her
point. She suddenly paused and looked up at you before squinting and placing a
red finger on her lips“Hmm, I
"What?” You did not like the
look on Cheryl’s face. You knew your bestfriend too well to know that whatever
is on her mind is probably anything but nice.
“I wonder why
he was so keen on letting you sleepover this weekend. Usually he always had
things to do with his other brainless groupies or his croonies that’s why you
always stay with me, so …”
changed?” Another pause before she flattered her eyelash on you. “Don’t you think..?”
“Don’t I think
what Cherry?” You asked, growing impatient by the minute.
She grinned mischievously.
“Don’t you think Mr. Mantle finally grew a brain and realized his one and
only love is in-front of him all this time?”
You couldn’t hide the blush on her face. Cheryl caught you too
off guard. “Cherry how many times
do I have to tell you we’re just friends!” You muttered, suddenly shy,
but you knew it was useless when Cheryl just rolled her eyes.
“Fool God, fool
the devil, but don’t try me, love.”
This time it was your time to roll her eyes. “I’m not fooling anyone, Cherry.”
“Not that i’m
totally on his side but what’s wrong with being with him anyway?” Cheryl completely
ignored you and your petty excuses. “He
is hot, rich, and have that football scholarship in the bag being the captain
of the Bulldogs and you have been together even before the two of us so I will
trust his faithfulness when it comes to you.”
“Plus if you do
get married and realize he sucks at the end you can always divorce him and live
with me in New York.”
‘were-just-friends” you wouldn’t have said no to my offer and that
university’s offer in New York if it wasn’t for him.“ She said, slamming
her hand on the table.
Case closed for Cheryl.
"Fool the devil, my darling. But "just friends” hell
even bestfriends, don’t do that.“
You stared at Cheryl to prove to her that there really was
nothing going on between you two but all she did was squint and you sighed in
defeat making her beam.
"Finally,” she smirked. “I was growing tired waiting for you
to tell mwah. When are you planning to confess?”
confessing, Cherry.” you sighed dragging the milkshake towards your direction and
“Why not?”Cheryl asked,
munching on a fry.
like me like that! And it’s fine. I’m pretty sure this … crush or whatever it
is will probably just pass.”
“Oh, honey, who
said anything about a crush? You’re in love with that simpleton. I don’t know
why but you are. And if he isn’t in love with you yet then he really is proving
everything I have been calling him right and you know how he hates it when i’m
just drop it, okay?” You nearly begged.
“What do you
have to lose?” She challenged.
lifelong friendship? The relationship I have spent my whole life protecting? My
dignity? My pride?”
“Touché’.” Cheryl threw an
unfinished fry at you and it would’ve hit you straight to the face if you
haven’t moved at the last second. “But
hon, you should at least try. Cause as much as confessing may sound like a leap
of faith, it would be better than regretting what you didn’t do, what you
"I know,” you sighed. “But it really is a hopeless case,
Cherry. I’d rather not waste my time and my friendship.”
“Look if you’re
not even gonna become the endgame why don’t you just leave with me to New York?
You got nothing left to lose.”
You glanced at her and she was seriously staring at you, ready
for this argument. “I can’t leave
“Why not? He’s
a big boy, (Y/N/N). He can take care of himself.” Cherry grabbed my
hand. “Stop surrounding your life
around him cause when he leaves you’d be left with nothing and i’d never allow
that to happen to you.”
You thought about it. Are
you really too dependable? Is it really the time to move on? Can you really
leave Reggie after spending the last eighteen years of your life with him?
“If …” you gripped
Cheryl’s hands tighter. “If all
goes to shit –”
“Oh, i’ll be
here, darling.” She gave me a sweet and comforting smile. “I’ll pick up the pieces.”
Your comfortable silence was broken by the familiar honk of a
familiar car. “Speaking of the
devil.” Cheryl sighed already taking her purse and placing too much
money on the table. You giggled as you crossed your arms with hers as you
walked towards Reggie who was leaning on his car.
ladies?” Reggie asked uncrossing his arms to remove his iconic letterman
jacket and place it on your shoulder.
You muttered a small “thanks,
would’ve been better if you didn’t graciously intervene, you ninny.”
“Cry me a river,
Cheryl rolled her eyes before looking at you who was already
safely tucked in Reggie’s car.
“Take care, love. Call me if it gets too boring in there.”
Cherry.” you giggled, waving slightly at her. “See you on Monday.”
She nodded before glaring at Reggie. “Take care of my (Y/N), you ditz.”
(Y/N), you psycho.” Reggie shot back before driving off.
You plopped down on Reggie’s new sheets as he placed his
letterman jacket on a chair. You seated yourself near his window to see the
stars.“Move aside, pup.”
he gently nudged you before lying next to you and wrapping your arms on your
waist as he used your tummy as a pillow.
You both sat in a comfortable silence with him just laying there
while you look outside while discreetly stealing glances. “Hey Reg–”
You were cut off when Reggie laughed at something at his phone.
You visibly frowned.
“Oh sorry, what
was that, pup?”
“What are you
laughing at?” You asked. He blushed.
name’s Veronica … I call her Ronnie- but that’s not the point. She’s …
really funny? I don’t know. I just …”
You held your breathe. Please
no. God no No, no, no, no–
“I think I
really like her.”
And just like that, all hopes, dreams, and every single crevice
in your heart was crushed and died.
“What …” you could barely
speak, your mouth too dry. The temptation to cry is too much.
“It’s just …
she gets me, y'know. She’s so different from other girls.”
You felt a pang in your heart. What about you? You get him –
hell, you get him more than anybody. What are you now?
You almost laughed.You
couldn’t believe you were now just part of the other girls. The other
forgettable, worthless, unimportant girls. The other girls that, once upon a
time, you were laughing at because they couldn’t get the one thing that they
wanted no matter how hard they tried because he was yours. But now, you are
unceremoniously shoved to the other girls you hated so goddamn much.
You looked away.
You swallowed whatever saliva was left in your mouth and cleared
your throat. “T-That’s great,
Reg.” You hastily wiped one tear that escaped.“Looks like I won’t be getting any texts from Geraldine or Sarah
or Melanie anymore, eh?”
He grinned at me but before he could fully see my face and see
something wrong I pushed a pillow on his face and he laughed, trying to get
away from me, giving me time to compose myself a bit.
“Yeah, I kinda
cleared the whole bench for her.”
to ruin something this great.”
He slowly crawled back to you and positioned himself once again.
You stroked his hair. “Me too,
Reg.” you almost sighed.
The sound of gentle waves lapping at a thin shoreline was the first sensory response you felt as your consciousness was reawakened. Needle-like pain pierced all known muscles and joints in your body as your heavy eyelids struggled to open. You found yourself at the grass-strewn coast of a large lake, the sun bordering the horizon and the storm clouds having formed dispersive curves in the orange sky.
Happy holidays everyone! I thought I’d put another fic rec list together to spread the cheer! I am not the biggest fan of AUs, which means I am not familiar with many. I have, however, been blown away by some I accidentally crossed paths with and hey, what a better time for AUs than when you may want to escape your holiday surroundings!? :)
Many of these are about 20k or 30k words in length (my jam!), most are mature or explicit, no WIPs, and all more or less have happy endings (NEVER major character death, but still MIND THE TAGS!)
And don’t forget: Go send these authors some love!
(If they are on Tumblr and I couldn’t find them, tag them so they get some love right.now. :))
“Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who
has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so
happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable
to the downright depraved.“
This is amazingly written, in-character, savage, tender and super insightful all at once! The sequel Lafitte is even more stunning, with nuanced understanding of these characters’ turmoil, love, trust,and intimacy. Damn, I wish I could read it again for the first time!
Eremite by @drinkbloodlikewine and @whiskeyndspite
POST S3-CANON DIVERGENT
“Will Graham is homeless in Florence, making money reading people who pass by. Set post Red Dragon verse.“
Ever had a craving for more Dimmond? Maybe as Will’s friend? What about a slow-burn starring Will’s stubbornness, self-hate and pride, and Hannibal’s tactless attempts at making amends, all wrapped up in searing prose? This is for you!
“After Hannibal went to jail, Will sold everything he had. He bought a motorcycle and ran.He ran…but eventually, if you run long enough, you’ll end up right back where you started.“
Oh man, this is so beautifully written and well-paced. Will is gritty and steadfast in this, and I love how he stays his ground with wanting to move forward and find his inner peace. Also what an amazingly hot and threatening “cowboy” Hannibal makes. Just saying, this is an amazingly satisfying read.
“Hannibal’s an FBI agent. Will’s a serial killer. He still has a lot of
dogs and dislikes being sociable. Hannibal still wants to wind him up
and watch him go.”
A short, but oh so haunting AU that convincingly switches Will and Hannibal’s roles, showing that they are not that different after all. Emungere wrote my favorite canon-divergent series in this fandom, Ladders, (haven’t read that? run, don’t walk), but this piece helped me see how great AUs can be.
“Hannibal and Will have to pretend to be a couple for a case. Everything goes downhill from there.”
Oh @coloredink, making AUs a thing of beauty since my BBC Sherlock days! It’s a fake relationship AU, a beloved and well-worn staple, but here the unpacking of emotions is so quiet and well-measured it stays delightfully in-character. It is the sequel to this which is equally beautiful, if less smutty :)
“ ‘Beware,’ it is said, “Beware, beware, do not go into the forest at night.”
Yet go Will must in order to save his best friend Alana after she goes
missing in that gloomy, forbidden wood. He finds her in the dungeons of
an abandoned castle at the heart of the forest, imprisoned by a fearsome
horned beast. A bargain is struck, one life in exchange for another,
and Will learns that all is not as it seems in the ruins of Castle
My first AU in this fandom and the one that started it all. It’s a dark retelling of Beauty & the Beast and it is so smart, so compelling, so wickedly well paced and written, and has a wonderfully unexpected ending. Head bravely into that dark forest, my friends!
“I would consider very carefully before moving any
further, Will,” says Hannibal. Will can feel the mirth dancing in time
with Molly’s pulse.
“What am I considering?”
“A great perhaps,” he says.
If he could learn to love another, the spell would be broken. But who could ever learn to love a beast?”
Want more Beauty & the Beast retellings this time less magical and more literal? Prepare for some amazing fusion with canon! Also a brief but brave Molly appearance, kidnapping and falling in love in an old estate. The descriptions of the estate and forest, plus Will’s slow burn falling for his beast are stunning!
“Soulmates find their other half when they look into their eyes. After
the next time they sleep, they wake with one eye the color of their
intended. […]Things go horribly awry when he looks into Hannibal’s eyes, though. The
next morning, he wakes up with one eye blue, the other maroon. He’s
never wanted a soulmate, least of all one behind bars for murdering
dozens of people and eating them. Hannibal thinks it’s delightful -it’s
been dreadfully boring since he was locked up.“
The exciting soulmate universe created by LiaSo where a grumpy Will fights against the biological connection established with a very incarcerated Hannibal. Sexual tension for miles, featuring a kickass Molly, a funny Beverly, a coffee bogo for soulmates, and a very devious Hannibal :)
“AU where Will is the actual Devil. After Hannibal sells his soul, a
fascination begins to develop between them. Will is intrigued by the
unique monster Hannibal is, while Hannibal thinks Will is the most
magnificent thing he’s ever encountered. As their conversations
continue, their involvement with each other becomes something else
This is one of those cases where role reversals, like emungere’s, just shed light on how similar Will and Hannibal are, though their differences are what truly fuels their attraction and the wonders of seeing them banter, fight and fall in love. The dialogue in this is EXQUISITE.
“He misses me, Will thought. He wanted what
could have been, so much. He was lonely, looking for someone to finally
see him for who he is. To accept him as he is. He thought he’d found
that someone in me.
And how do we feel about that, Mr. Graham?”
Prepare for all those post-Mizumono feelsand all the slow-burn negotiation that comes with grief and forgiveness!
“Hannibal finally wakes from
his injuries, and it becomes clear that he remembers nothing.“
This is bittersweet but so lovely. The dialogue is brimming with emotion and so well nuanced. I love the way this writer makes the mundane touching with their turn of phrase. Check out their other work and encourage them to finish their WIPs!
POST S3/POST CANON: Heed for angst with happy endings, new murderers, and plenty of sassy/conflicted Will.
“In the aftermath of The Fall, Will allows himself to be pulled back into
Jack’s world of serial murder investigation. Someone is killing with
quite elaborate purpose, marking their victims by smashing all the
clocks in the house at the time of death.“
“Sometimes Will imagines that they will die in this
bed, fused together. He pictures it mentally. Perhaps he can get
Hannibal to draw it someday. He is certain it would horrify most people,
but he finds it rather romantic, their skin one large sheet, their
bones twisted like old tree roots.”
Barry leans against the kitchen counter to watch Iris smooth her signature handmade pizza dough over a baking pan. He takes note of the slight upturn of her lips as she quietly works.
“What are you so happy about?” he asks her. “Are you that excited for ‘Pizzeria Iris’ tonight?” It was a phrase that had originated after one night in high school when Iris, tired of ordering Coast City Pizza for every Friday movie night, opted to make her own pizza from scratch, betting Joe and Barry it would taste better than the acclaimed “best in the west,” and if it did, she would get to pick the movie.
That’s how Joe and Barry watched She’s the Man for the first and only time.
Request: Safari is the internet lol and YESS you should do a lucifer fluffy/smut one shot where your like another angel archangel to be exact and your lucifer’s mate/wife and Chloe meets you for the first time and your like lucifer but more kind and sweet and you love kids and that and Chloe is really surprised and you’ve been teasing lucifer all day and when you get back to lucifer’s apartment he can’t take the teasing anymore and it leads to very steamy smut in the end and it’s the lucifer from fox lol - @icharleecongreve
“Hey where are you going?” You
asked Lucifer as you saw his naked butt waddling away from the bed. He turned
and smiled at you. “I need to meet Chloe about a case. Want to come by?” He
asked as he put his underwear back on. “Sure. Let me get a quick shower. Want
to join?” You teased. He rolled his eyes and smirked.
“It wouldn’t kill me to join.” As
he paced forward you closed the door and let out a laugh. “You little devil.”
The irony made you laugh harder as you were an archangel. Your father was furious
but you made up your mind and marry the devil himself. He was kind to you not
like people described him; vicious, merciless and ugly. He was quite handsome
and sure he’s a devil in the bed.
You got out of the shower and
walked down to the kitchen and saw Lucifer drinking some scotch. Tea wasn’t his
thing. “You ready?” He asked. You put on your black leather jacket and tied
your shoe laces. “Only when you are.” You winked and he swallowed hard.
“Tease.” He walked past you and got out to his car. You both got in the car and
drove to Chloe’s place. “Now I warn you, there is this little demon.” He said
in a terrified voice.
“Don’t worry. I married one.”
Your hand landed on his knee and slowly slid it up his thigh. He let out a
heavy breath. “You’re playing with fire Y/N.” His voice trembled as he parked
the car. You smirked and let out a light chuckle. Lucifer knocked on the door
and a lady answered it. “Hi Lucifer.” She made way for us to go in. as we went
in, a small girl ran over to Lucifer and hugged his legs. “Lucifer!” She
squealed. Lucifer tried to shake her off but she held on tight. She began
laughing until her mother pulled her away. “HI I’m Chloe.” She shook your hand.
“I’m Y/N, Lucifer’s wife.” She had a surprised look on her face. “This
is my daughter, Trixie.”
“Hi.” She hid behind her mother and waved.
“Hello sweetie.” You smiled. She got out from behind her mother’s
figure and walked towards you. “I like your eyes, they’re beautiful.” You felt
yourself blush a bit, even though she’s just a child. “Want to see my dolls?”
“I’d love to.” She took you by
the hand and pulled you to her room. You looked back at Lucifer and smiled.
“I didn’t know Lucifer was
married. I thought he was going to be a loner all his life.” You laughed at
Trixie’s comment. You sat down on her bed as she handed you her dolls. “So how
long have you and Lucifer been married?” She asked as she waddled her way to
the bed. “I bet you looked very pretty in your white dress.”
“Thank you Trixie. Well tomorrow
will be our 3 year anniversary.” Her eyes widened. Lucifer called you from the
kitchen. “You go, I have to do something.” Trixie said as she grabbed a piece
of paper and some colours.
“Hey, what’s up?” You asked.
Chloe opened her file and a butt load of papers flew out of it. She grabbed one
of them and showed it to me. “We need your help finding this man. He is accused
of murder, theft and abuse. Can you help us please?” She asked politely. You
nodded. “Great, so tomorrow at 7:30 am.”
As you were about to leave with
Lucifer, Trixie ran over to you. “Y/N! I made this for you.” She handed you a
paper with a drawing on it. It had Lucifer who had horns and a tail and there were
you with a pair of white wings and a halo. You smiled and showed it Lucifer. You
opened the paper and on it was scribbled ‘Happy anniversary’. You felt your
heart melt. “Thank you so much Trixie.” You gave her a hug. “Let me guess? I’m
the one with the horns?” Lucifer chuckled.
You plopped down on the bed in
your bra and underwear. You looked at Lucifer who was getting out of the
bathroom. You removed the sheets off of you and smirked. “Lucy.” You sang his
name. He laid next to you, naked. Your hand cascaded down his clavicle and his
toned chest. You straddled him and slowly grinded on him. “Too bad you don’t
have that tail. You could do some tricks with it.” You sucked on his neck as he
let out a groan. He quickly switched places and looked you in the eyes. “You’ve
been teasing me all day. Now it’s time that I have some fun.” You underwear
disappeared and Lucifer sank between your legs. His tongue glided up and down
your wet core. You let out a moan and you felt you stomach clench at the
feeling. His tongue found your clit and he licked it and grabbed it between his
teeth while two fingers slid inside you. “Don’t you dare come!” He said between
his clenched teeth.
You let out a wanton moan as he
moved his fingers in and out of you; you threw your head back in ecstasy and
closed your eyes shut. “I can’t!” You groaned as your hands found his hair and
pulled on it sending him groaning and moaning. You clenched hard around his
fingers but he quickly backed off and slid inside you. “This is your punishment
my little angel.” He started out with slow thrusts. His thrusts got sloppier
and faster, increasing the friction between you and you orgasm grew stronger. Your
skins slapped against each other and your breaths got heavier. He got rid of
your bra and he sucked on you breasts. “Lucifer!” You moaned out loudly.
He looked at you and put on his devilish
smirk and red eyes. “Come baby.” Your body trembled as your orgasm shook your
body hard. Lucifer soon followed as he shot his seed inside you. He held you
tightly as you scratched his back as your orgasm slowly faded away. “My devil.”
Summary: Dean is afraid it is too dangerous for the Reader to be with him because he’s a hunter.
Characters: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1700ish
Warnings: Smut; nipple play; oral; dirty talk
Dean traced his thumb over your cheekbone and down the side of your face. His eyes were focused on your mouth; they moved slowly over each part of your face until they locked onto yours. You saw in the deep green of Dean’s eyes the heaviness of the burdens he was carrying. His voice was low, just above a whisper. “You don’t know what kind of danger you’re in, do you?”
You reached for his hand, taking it in yours. “I do know, Dean.” He swallowed and shook his head slightly moving his eyes back down to your lips. His head was still shaking while he kept looking at your mouth. Your voice was unsteady now. “Don’t do that. Stop what you’re thinking. Don’t you dare pull away from me.” You felt the sting of tears at the back of your eyes.
Two or three seconds passed. There was a lump in your throat and your heart was racing. There were no words. Then Dean’s hands were on each side of your face, holding it. His mouth covered yours. He was kissing you with all the passion and fear he felt. His tongue sought entry into your mouth, and you opened to him. He tasted like whiskey, further proof something was weighing heavily on his mind.
“Can I request teen!Brendon?!?! Like maybe a highschool AU or something? Start off hating each other and well you can decide where it goes?”
[Author’s note! Sure thing sweetie! Thanks for the request! This is going to be a fun one to write. I am excited.I am also making this a pre-imagine for one that I wrote awhile back called Composition!]
You never knew the devil had a name until you met Brendon. High school was going fine, you finally felt comfortable in your own shoes, until one day you had an unfortunate run in with the devil himself.
You were already running late for class as it is. A series of poor decisions got you there. When you finally stumble into the school, you are welcomed by a crowded hallway and no familiar faces in sight. Rule of thumb, you keep your friends limited in school and you glide your way through it. You were able to make it through a large portion of school too going unnoticed until the local boy wonder decided to make it his goal in life to give you chest pain.
He is a full blow douche to say the least. And this wasn’t just a passing phase, oh no. It’s his full time job to make you feel as awkward and uncomfortable as physically possible. Surely a level opposition that is worthy of a mention in the record books of cliche high school bullies.
Nevertheless, you were late and eager to get to your class. You have a reputation to uphold, and being on time is included. You eye the door up and cringe as you see him leaning against the wall right next to the classroom you need to be in. He looks so carefree standing there, his hand shoved into the pockets of his skinny jeans. That bastard. Quickly you try to devise a plan on how you can avoid him seeing you, but every plan seems to be a bust. Of course he has to stand in the one spot that is inescapable. Even more reason to hate him. You decide to dodge the bullet and just go for it, hoping that he won’t recognize you. Preparing for disaster, you clutch your books tightly to your chest and bow your head to avoid eye contact. With each passing step, you dread that inevitable encounter.
For a moment when you don’t hear that conceited voice of his call out your name, you think you have made it fast enough to avoid the whole ordeal. To your misfortune a ratty pair of black converse step into your field of vision and you are bound to be late for class now. You were so damn close.
“Hello there, dollface.” He chuckles through that insolent tone of his that makes you want to run the other direction. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”
You find yourself retracting into yourself as he takes a step closer. You wish you had never run into him in the first place, you don’t even want to know his name. But of course you do. How could you not? With his dark hair and muddy eyes that could melt anyones heart, he has that quality that any cocky bad guy has. Intimidatingly attractive. And deservedly so, if you can get past the lack of a heart.
“Move it Urie. I am just trying to get to class.” you attempt to push past him. As tempting as it is to look up and see his reaction, you can’t muster up the courage to give them that kind of pleasure.
Instead of letting you go by, he moves with you in one swift movement. He makes a better door than a human in your opinion.
“That eager to get to class are we?” he leans against the door frame. That jerk has the nerve to make it look so easy to push someone’s buttons. “Can’t be late now isn’t that right?”
“Something you have never understood the concept of.”
With a sudden gust of attitude, you manage to glare at him. That exact look you imagined plastered on his face is there, eyebrows cocked and all.
“Shots fired. That really hurt (y/n).” his hand dramatically rubs his chest as if it signals his pain. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”
If you rolled your eyes any harder they would have rolled right out of your head. Sure it might have been overkill but this kid really got on your nerves. How you ever managed to get along with his friend Ryan was a mystery.
“Mr. Urie! Get to class!” the teachers yells and you inwardly thank the gods.
He throws his hands in the air defensively and moves out of the way, letting you escape your nightmare. With a smug grin you push past him, slipping him the finger behind your back.
“When you decide to have a little fun, you know where to find me!” he calls out heading down the hallway.
No way in hell that was happening.
“What was that all about?” you friend asks you as you sit down exasperated from the encounter.
“My worst nightmare, that’s what.” you sigh.
It’s seventh period, which means its both your favorite and least favorite part of the day. Your favorite because it is your independent music study. Your least favorite because you have to be in the same room as Brendon for a whole hour. Gross. At least you can lock yourself in a practice room and forget about him.
When you stumble into the band room and realize he is the only one in there, you curse to yourself and turn to head the opposite direction. Unfortunately for you, you caught his attention right away.
“Have somewhere to be?”
Shit. Your jaw clenches and your entire body grows stiff as you turn around to face him.
“No. I just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a room with you. I wouldn’t want to catch a disease or something.” you wave him off digging through a pile of mixed up sheet music.
“Ouch. Two hits in one day. I must be rubbing off on you.”
That comment really got you bubbling. The fact that he would even take the credit for your witty comments makes you want to punch him. And it takes every ounce of self control not to just go up to him and give him one. But he would get too much joy out of that. So instead you grab your sheet music and make a mad dash past him. Luck was not in your favor.
In a fit of your clumsiness your music falls off your binder and scatters all over the floor. You frantically attempt to pick it up. Brendon chuckles at the sight of your cheeks glowing brightly in embarrassment. He knows the kind of effect he has on you, and you hate yourself for letting him know.
“Classical huh? What kind of sheet music is this anyway? You don’t strike me as the piano type.” he snorts as he picks up a few of the stray sheets. His expression reveals confusion and a hint of interest.
“You wouldn’t know if real music hit you in the face Urie.” you spit.
“You don’t even know what I do. Give it a chance, you might end up liking it.”
“In your dreams.” you manage to keep your voice steady as you reply.
“Your loss sweetheart!” he shrugs as you lock yourself in the soundproof practice room. At least he can’t hear or see you for the next hour.
The time passes quickly, and soon you find yourself having to put down your instrument and have to face the relentless punk rocker once again. Silently praying that he is already gone, your hopes are crushed when his voice rings out. You jump at the sudden interaction.
“A little jumpy today aren’t we?” he retorts, a smug grin pulling at his lips.
“Mind your own business would ya pretty boy?” you say trying to sneak away from him for the third time today.
“So you think I’m pretty, Huh?” he shoots you a devilish glare that could melt a heart.
“Something has to make up for you being such a douche.” you hiss.
You wait for him to reply in his usual manor, but for the first time ever, he has nothing to say. There is no gnomic reply, just silence. Have you just outwitted the master at his own game? You thought this feeling would be more exciting, finally having the guts to give it right back to him. But as his jaw tenses and eyes droop into what could mistakenly be seen as sadness, you almost feel like you were too harsh. Until you remember how awful he was to you just this morning.
“Bye.” you murmur as you shuffle your sheet music into a folder.
Was Brendon Urie, your biggest offender, actually upset that you called him a douche? Does it really matter? Yet somehow you find a guilty feeling rising in your chest and you actually regret saying it.
“Hey (y/n), something the matter?” your friend Ryan asks leaning against the locker next to yours.
Snapping back to reality, your focus shifts to Ryan. He knows about the way Brendon treats you and he apologizes for it every day. How he even gets along with Brendon in the first place is a mystery.
“Oh nothing. What’s up?” you stutter. He gives you a confused look but waves off your awkward response.
“Well I was doing a little writing lately. I was hoping you would do me a big favor.”
“What would this favor be?”
“One of the songs I wrote, I really want some cello in the band. I was hoping you would take a look at it and drop by a rehearsal one time.”
Knowing very well that Brendon would be at that rehearsal, this is an extremely big favor to ask. But Ryan has been a good friend of ours for a long time, and you wanted to see him succeed.
“You are lucky we are friend’s Ross.” you sigh heavily as he hands over a pile of sheet music.
“What would I do without you! See you tomorrow at the bar?” he laughs.
“I suppose you will.”
The sun is starting to set as you walk down the deserted sidewalk of downtown. With your cello strapped on your back, you make your way down to the run down bar that the keyboard players dad owns. It is nice of him to let them use that space as a rehearsal area before hours. You take a deep breath before entering, knowing that this could potentially be the most grueling two hours of your life.
“Hey!” you hear that harrowing voice that you dread.
Perhaps if you just ignore him he won’t push considering yesterday’s events. But as you start to unpack your things you can hear him getting closer. Oh god.
“You know what, I am doing your band a favor so why don’t you do me a favor and leave me alone.” you warn, not letting him even test your patience.
Your answer is short and to the point. If only your voice wasn’t so unintimidating that you actually sound like a little kid trying defend themselves. But no use in backing down now.
“No! I was just…” he stumbles on his words, reaching for the right thing to say. This is the second time in two days that you have done this. Maybe he was right, maybe he is rubbing off on you.
You look at him with uninterested eyes waiting for him to respond. A faint blush creeps on his cheeks and he looks flustered.
“Shit.” he mumbles, hoping you wouldn’t hear it. But you did.
You shoot him a concoction of confused and annoyed glares as you carefully remove your cello from its case. Ryan calls for Brendon and he almost looks hurt as he walks away up to the stage. They begin with a punchy number about a strip club and a lap dance. Figures. He looks so confident up there, the way he dances around. And those vocals. Wow. He almost looks human for a moment. Wait no, you can’t be thinking about that.
“Alright, you have the sheet music for I write sins?” Ryan calls.
With a nod you head up to the stage and take a seat in the chair right between Ryan and Brendon. As if it wasn’t bad enough just to share a stage with him, you had to be sitting right next to him. You gently pluck the stings and Brendon joins in. He stares in awe at you as actually play the notes, but you are too busy getting lost in the music to notice. You take in the sound, so beautiful and pure.
“Technically our marriage is saved!” he sings.
As the song finishes, you realize that he is watching you geek out. A blush creeps up as you look away and shuffle through your music to find the next song. Why won’t he stop looking at you?
“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare?” you seethe, taking your stance to play the next song.
The next song is a beautifully surprising song about the tragedy that is an affair. For just being a high school band, the lyrics are really deep. Secretly, you love bringing your musical element to such a raw sounding band, but you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. A quick musical interlude, it is now your time to shine. The hearty sound of your cello fills the room and you completely loose yourself for just a moment. It truly is a beautiful composition and everyone in the room feels it.
When you know it is time for Brendon to come back in, you back down your sound but he doesn’t join in. Instead he stands there, too occupied in watching you to even realize that he was supposed to sing.
“Hold up guys. Earth to Brendon? Isn’t that your cue?” you chortle in satisfaction.
“Um, five minute water break.” he stammers as he heads off the stage. He’s acting so weird today.
Despite your inner conscious telling yourself to run away, you find yourself meeting him at the water table. He has already downed half a bottle.
“What’s the matter Urie? Cat’s got your tongue?” you tease, hoping to strike a nerve.
“Just shut up.” he snaps. His words giving you all the more reason to bush his buttons.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. I said shut up!”
HIs piercing eyes flash to you and you stare right back. Two evenly revved up people standing face to face, and you wanted to come out on top. Not willing to back down, you decide you will give him the opportunity to explain himself if he can manage.
“Alright. “ you reply, crossing your arms tightly over your chest expecting a damn good explanation. “Give it to me.”
“Fine.” he hesitates, almost expecting you to walk away. “What you said yesterday. You were right. I am a douche. But.”
He shifts his weight to one hip, kicking his foot a little, like he is at a loss of words, and it feels astounding. He, Brendon, can’t even come up with a decent reason as to why he is such an ass. You have finally won. You are just about to say something, but he holds a finger over your lips and stops you.
“Ah-ah-ah!” he scolds.
“Alright.” he stars again once he knows you aren’t going to interrupt him. “But, I have this huge crush on you and that’s why.”
What the hell just happened? Unable, or unwilling to even register what he is saying, you walk back over to your seat and pluck around on your cello. With wide eyes and flustered cheeks, you shutter as he takes his stance next to you at the mic. You can’t even look at him as he stands there singing into the microphone about screwing some girl. Was he being serious? His words say one thing, but his stature says it all. It’s still not a valid excuse to make your life a living hell though. Most people when they like someone, try to make them feel good. Brendon does the exact opposite.
As the rehearsal draws to a close, you plan to sneak out of there without having to exchange another word with him. With a brisk pace and quick feet, you manage to pack up your stuff and you are almost out the door when he is back at it again.
“Wait!”he chases after you. “You don’t just get to walk out on me!”
“Really? Because after the hell you have put me through I am pretty sure I do!”
“That is so not fair! I barely got two words in!” he whines like a little child.
“Life isn’t fair Urie!”
“Just. Wait.” his hand clasps around your wrist so that you can’t escape. You would be lying if you said the physical contact didn’t turn your stomach in knots. “I’ll be in the band room second period. If you want to give me a second chance, I’ll be there.”
You tug your arm away and walk in the opposite direction. You can feel his gaze burning into your back as you walk away, and you dare not look back. What kind of drugs was this boy on? The entire walk home you try to think about something else, but all that comes to mind is Brendon’s preposition. Does he deserve a second chance? Definitely not! But something deep inside you wants to give him one, or at least another opportunity to explain himself better. Why are you even considering this?
It’s now the morning and you wake up refreshed and ready to go back to school. Looking through your closet, you sift through and try to find your best outfit. Why, you don’t even know, because you weren’t going to meet with him. But there was still a chance of bumping into him, and you wanted to show him everything that he wants and can’t have.
All through first period, you keep looking at the clock. Your knees bounce and you can’t seem to find the ability to concentrate. Are you really even contemplating giving him the time of day? It would mean skipping class! How would you explain that one to your parents? Yet when the bell rings, you find your feet carrying you to the band room instead of the math room where you are supposed to be. As you near the room, you can hear the familiar interlude that was played over a recording yesterday at the band’s rehearsal. This time, it’s being played on a piano. It sounds beautiful and flawlessly played, making you wonder if Brendon is alone?
“What am I getting myself into?” you mumble before walking into the band room.
He is sitting with his back toward the door, at the grand piano. His hands are wandering around the keys as he sways back and forth gently. You almost can’t believe that he is the same person. He’s wearing that maroon shirt that looks so good on him and that same pair or skinny jeans that… wait.
No. No. No. What are you thinking!?
“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” he chuckles, not even turning from the piano. Does he have eyes in the back of his head or something?
“No. I just.. was.. listening to you play.” you recover from being caught off guard.
“Like what you hear?” he peers over his shoulder.
“I just didn’t know you could play like that?”
“Except I wouldn’t know if real music hit me in the face.” he smirks.
Those lips pull and you feel those butterflies in your stomach start to fly around. Cut it out. You take a few steps closer to the piano and he has a full blown smile, and he looks happy.
“Don’t get too excited.” He pats the piano bench next to him. You cautiously take a seat and try to avoid any contact again. It would be too hard to pull away.
For the next half hour, he becomes like an open book. He talks about his friends, his family, and his music. You didn’t plan on staying that long, but something about those kind words and that toothy grin keeps you drawn into the conversation.
“It isn’t easy you know. Being like me?” you say just above a whisper. “Being the perfect studious person isn’t all that it seems like it is.”
He smiles at you, starting to see that unexpected hidden side of you that secretly hates being the perfect little girl. There go the butterflies again. Just as you start to relax, his knee brushes against yours and you tense up again. This brings his smile back, he stills knows how to control you.
He can tell you are starting to build up your wall again that he had just started to break down. So the conversation changes to music again. He talks about his favorite band and you talk about yours and surprisingly your tastes in music are very similar. Could he possibly be not that bad of a person?
“How did you get into the cello?” he asks.
“I don’t know. My mother thought I needed something to do as a kid, so she put me in cello lessons.” you shrug, trying to be as vague as possible.
“But why not piano?”
“I really don’t know. Too mainstream I guess.” you let out a sincere laugh.
The bells rings and you know you have to leave. Part of you didn’t want to though, which is extremely alarming. But you couldn’t justify missing two periods.
“I guess that is my cue to go.” you sigh.
“Can I walk you to your next class?”
You contemplate the pros and cons of this situation. Sure he’s been a really class A jerk to you for the past three years and everyone would look at your weird. But it sure is nice to not walk through the halls alone. He’s looking at you waiting for a response and is quite frankly worried about how much time you spend zoning out.
“I guess that would…be alright. But no funny stunts Urie!” you wave a finger at him.
“Me? Stunts! Why I never!” he places his hand over his heart.
That mischievously crooked smile of his returns and you immediately regret your decision, but there was no going back now. He gestures out for you to walk out first, being the gentleman he has never been. You duck into the hallway and he follows. It feels weird to have someone walk next to you. People would clap him on the shoulder or give him a nod as we passed. Is this what it is like to not be invisible?
“Do you know everyone in this school?” you ask.
“No.” his hand brushes against your thigh and you just bout double over. He notices the redness taking over your cheeks and he chuckles. “But being in a band does help.”
You reach your classroom and awkwardly shift your weight waiting for what comes next. You weren’t sure if you just leave or were you supposed to hug him? If so that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ll see you seventh period.” he smiles, dropping a piece of paper into your notes. When you get to your seat, you find scribbled lyrics. Something about a girl.
Let’s just say you couldn’t believe that just happened.
Seventh hour rolls around and Brendon is nowhere to be found. Honestly you are a bit relieved because you have conflicting feelings. Ones that you don’t want to address. So as usual, you shut yourself in the small room and zone out. As you write a small note in your sheet music, a voice startles you causing you to drop your pencil.
“Geeze. Someone’s on the edge?” he teases. This time it doesn’t irritate you as much, which doesn’t make you feel any better.
“No. You came in here and screamed my name.”
He sits down next to you and places his fingers on the ivory keys of the stand up piano. You glance over at him with a perplexed expression and wait for a response.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“I have something to show you.”
He starts to play a song, a soft melody. He begins to hum along but you can’t make out quite what he is saying. So you just listen.
“What do you think?”
“It’s cool. Did you write that?”
He just shrugs, turning to look at you. The space between the two of you is very limited, and you feel like this isn’t going to end well. You stare up at him with beady eyes, and his hand abruptly falls against your thigh. You aren’t sure how to react, if you should be scared or pleased, annoyed, or all of the above. He leans in closely, his lips just ghosting over yours. It’s so close, so hot, everything that you could have imagined it being. In all honesty it scares you that it got to this point so fast, but you weren’t about to object either. What you don’t expect is him pulling back with that same mischievous smile, leaving you conflicted and turned on.
“What?” you say just barely above a whisper.
“I should get to class.” he gets up, allowing a sudden rush of cool air to hit you.
“What.” is all you can manage.
With that he gets up and shuts the door. You gape at him through the window and flip him off. This causes him to chuckle and shake his head at you. Curse that boy and his stupid charm. Now that you are a puddle of feelings, there isn’t any use in trying to get anything productive done.
The next time you see him is at another rehearsal two days later. Its a monday now, a pitiful start to a stressful week. Ryan had asked you if you wanted to play again to see how things are working out, and you used this as a sad excused to see Brendon. You are still mad at him for the band room incident, but you can’t help yourself.
“Ryan?” you call out to the empty bar.
Peering around the corner you hope to find them in one of the back rooms. Your heart jumps a little and you have to tell yourself to calm down when you find Brendon in the back, alone.
“Oh, hey.” he smiles at you.
Deciding to be sly and make him repay for his actions the other day, you give him the slightest bit of attention. Let the flirty attitude commence.
“Hello.” You say bending over to pick up your cello. He can’t help but look.
“Can’t get enough can you?” he smirks.
Two can play at this game Urie.
You sit down, flipping your hair out of the way with a perky smile. You can’t help but noticed he bites down on his lip as you sit there plucking at the strings of your instrument.
“Can I help you?” you pout at him a little.
“I don’t know. Can you?” he sends a wink and your stomach is in knots. Hold it together. He isn’t going to win this one.
“You look cute today. Thought I should let you know.”
“Flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver, Brendon. You of all people should know.”
“Your cheeks would say otherwise.” You look up at him, realizing he is right.
You try to will yourself down but that only flusters you even more. God, why does he have this affect on you? You adjust your sweater in a desperate attempt to cover up the evidence.
“Buzz off.” you return back to your instrument.
“What? Can handle a little banter? Heart beating a little faster isn’t it?” He walks up behind you, placing his hand right over your heart. A grin pulls as he realizes your heart is going faster than a bullet.
Your hand slips from the bow causing this deep, awkward note to sound through the room. Your eyes grow wide and this fuels your anger. Standing up you face him, trying to square up and be somewhat intimidating.
“Listen here. I didn’t come here to play games.”
“Neither did I.” he takes a step closer. A wave of vulnerability and desire fight within you and you aren’t sure what comes next.
His hand lands on the smallest portion of your back. You stiffen at the abrupt gesture, and raise your eyebrows as his fingers fumble with the waist of your pants. He stares at you with that all too familiar twinkle of joyful energy in his eyes.
“I could get used to this you know.” He leans in close, whispering into your ear.
“This. Us.” His lip grazes your ear and for a moment you weren’t sure if you could remember how to speak.
“There isn’t any us.” you breathe.
“Really, because your voice says otherwise.” You can hear the smirk in his words alone, you didn’t have to see to know. “You want me.”
“Do not.” you stutter.
“So if I did this, it wouldn’t mean anything?” He places his lips on the tender skin on the corner of your jaw. They are even softer than you had expected.
Your hand falls against his chest to steady yourself. His lips work their way up to your lips, gently teasing the delicate skin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want more, and your hand possessively taking a fist full of his shirt gives it all away. As if your breathing growing infinitely heavier wasn’t enough.
It takes everything in you not to let a soft moan or hum pass your lips, but now was not the time or place for such a thing, you wanted to prove a point. But as his lips brush against your for the second time, you can’t quite stifle it fast enough. He pauses for a moment, and thank god he does because Ryan walks in with Spencer. You turn away from Brendon sharply and pick up your cello.
“Everything good in here?” Ryan chuckles almost surprised.
“Yeah.” you say shortly.
Taking the quickest way out, you grab your cello and dash out of the room as fast as you can. Brendon never lets his gaze leave you. Making your way over to the chair that you sat in a few days ago, you sit and start to play to take your mind away. Just out of habit you start to play a Bach suite. It comes so naturally to you that you don’t even have to think about it. For a moment you can completely zone out and forget why you are even here in the first place.
Unknown to you, Brendon stands in the doorframe completely enthralled with watching you play. It amazes him how dynamic your playing is, and you make it look so effortless.
“Did you know she could play like this?” he says wide eyed to Ryan.
“Yeah, and if you didn’t spend every moment tormenting her at school you would too.”
“You can practically hear her music pouring through the hallways during seventh and fourth period.” Spencer adds.
Brendon marches on stage, startling you out of your daydream.
“Oh sorry.” you mumble.
You stay quiet, unable to look at Brendon. The feeling of his lips still burns on your neck. You long for them to be there again, but that isn’t the answer. His voice fills the empty room. It sounds so powerful and strong and it makes you go weak in the knees.
“I’m a diva! Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin. I’m the new cancer, never looked better, and you can’t stand it!” you scoff at his cocky lyrics.
Then it sets in. He is the new cancer. Your new cancer. And you can’t stand it. You didn’t want him to be, but it just sorta happened.
“Let’s run Build God.” He says and that is your cue.
You manage to look at him from behind loose strands of fallen hair as you hunch over your cello. He looks so comfortable and confident. The microphone it definitely his place. You secretly hate him for being so confident, wishing you could be too.
That night you exchange numbers with him after rehearsal.
Three days later as you are sitting on your couch, surrounded by a massive pile of notes, you get a text. You almost didn’t answer it because of all the studying you have to do, but something beyond your senses decided it was best to look. He texted you.
meet me at the bar in 20
You blink at your phone almost in shock at the text. He blatantly asked you to meet him somewhere, in public. Your hands tremble a little as you debate as to what you should do. On one hand, you know that you have way too much homework to do and you should stay here and do it. But you really wanted to see him. You go with your heart.
see you then.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can’t believe you looked like this all day at school. In a sad attempt to look better, you let your hair down from a messy bun. A little better. You throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and a coat of lip gloss for good measure. Out the door you go.
With your cello strapped to your shoulders, you walk down the leaf covered sidewalks. You try to stay conscious of your pace but your feet have a mind of their own. When you get to the bar, you realize you are five minutes early. But it’s okay because he is too.
“Where is everyone else?” you ask, stepping into the dimly lit room.
“Just me and you tonight.” he smiles, making you shake in your boots.
“Don’t look so scared (y/n).” he says patting the stool next to him.
Like a timid little child, you sit down next to him. He looks at you with a flight frown trying to decide what to do.
“I know what you need.” he gets up and rummages around behind the counter. When he pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses you immediately interject.
“Ah. Shh. He won’t mind.” he says pouring two glasses.
You take the liquid gold in your hands and swirl it around. You aren’t much of a drinker, but the idea of it taking the edge off really sounds like just what you need. You are never going to be able to explain this one to your parents.
“It isn’t going to kill you.” he sits back down next to you.
His knee bumps into yours again and you muster up enough bravery to take a swig from the glass. You cringe a little as it burns, but then you realize it did just the trick. He looks down at the traces of lip gloss left on the rim of your cup, and then back up at you. A look that makes your stomach flip.
“I know it’s not.” you say looking at your glass.
“Not much of a drinker I take it?”
“I can handle myself. I just never saw the point.”
“But it makes you feel good.”
He’s right. Your jitters for the most part are gone. You take another swig of your drink and turn to pick up your cello.
“I wasn’t planning on pract…” you cut him off.
“I know. I’ve just been working on something that I wanted to show you.”
Now it’s your turn to put everything out there. Music has and always will be your way of expressing yourself, and this was a grand gesture. You have been working day in and day out to compose a full score for Build god, and truly it is a work of art. The notes are stealthy and low, much like your relationship with Brendon. He watches as you pluck at the strings, admires your form as you glide your bow so precisely.
“It’s beautiful.” he says, his words tickling the back of your neck. “Show me how you play those soft notes again.”
You bend over your instrument and take your fingers delicately to the strings. He carefully watches your fingers as they dance around joyfully.
“You just have to be careful.” you smile at him.
As you turn your head toward him, you feel his lips push into yours unexpectedly. There go those damn butterflies again. Why is it that every time he touches you, you feel like you are moving at the speed of light. He stinkin’ knows it too.
“Bren..” you mumble against his lips.
It isn’t very long before his arms are around you, pressing you against his chest. His hands roam around your body delicately, like he’s handling you like a cello. Finally his hands settle on the curve of your waist and it makes you feel weightless. This is the kind of kiss that makes heat radiate to your core, and your chest to fill with a certain desire that you have never experienced before.
His hand swiftly glides down to your thigh, where he helps aid your leg around his hips. Gladly, you help as he supports your weight and carries you over to a barstool. It both surprises you and turns you on at how adept he is at this. Truth be told it’s intimidating.
“Say it.” he pants.
“That I was right.” he flashes that cheeky smirk that makes you forget everything else.
“Fine. I’m into you. Okay?” you sigh.
He moves over to your collar bones, planting soft, wet kisses along the outline. Your head dips back and your eyes flutter a little and he knows he has you right where he wants you. Praying for love. Your fingers shake with energy and nervousness as they land on his chest. The constant contact is almost too much to handle, but you don’t want it to stop. Unfortunately for you, he has other plans in mind. He fumbles with the hem of your shirt, creeping a fingertip up against the skin of your stomach. His hand slides farther up your shirt and you pray to god that you don’t mess this up.
Of course you freeze when this happens. You have a big secret that he isn’t aware of, and you weren’t quite sure how he would react. You swallow hard, dreading having to tell him that you haven’t ever gone farther than a kiss with anyone. Ever. Of course he retracts his hand when you tense up, and it almost makes you feel worse. With a ‘baby deer in the headlights’ look, you glance up at him.
“What’s wrong?” he says soberly.
“I’m sorry.” you whimper, trying to slide off of the barstool to retrieve your items. Fortunately for you his reaction time is faster than you are.
His hand clasps around your waist and holds you from escaping, the other is holding your wrist. You want nothing more than to retract into yourself and become invisible, but you well know that you need to face your fears.
“I…um… god.” you sigh. “I haven’t ever…been… with anyone. If you know what I mean.. and..” you trail off.
He looks at you with a whole new expression, one that you can’t quite decipher. His eyes look softer, and his smile has faded. Perhaps its the innocence of it all, or maybe just the terrified expression that lurks on your face, but the next thing his does is completely unexpected. His arms wrap tightly around your frame, pressing you as close as possible. Is he really hugging you? After you told him you are indeed a virgin?
“I don’t understand?” you mumble.
“Do you trust me?” he looks at you.
Do you trust him? You just met him. You have no reason to trust him. But something deep in your core really did trust him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but you nod a faint yes, unable to form the words you so wanted to say.
His steady hands peel off your cardigan from your arms, revealing your lightly freckled shoulders. He spins you around and presses his lips to the top of your shoulder. It’s soft and breathy, everything you hoped for and more. One hand slides under your shirt again, firmly pressing against your stomach. The funny thing is, he doesn’t try anything. No slipping hands, no awkward grabs, just warm contact. It’s an odd sensation to have someone so close, especially when you are at your most vulnerable point.
Its all very overwhelming and you feel yourself starting to distance from the situation. Pulling away again, you feel so bad for putting him through this. You take a few steps toward your cello, running your hands roughly through your hair, and blowing out an exasperated huff more irritated with yourself than anything.
“Wow.” he smiles brightly looking at you in the dim yellow light. “You are so beautiful.”
“Bullshit.” you throw your hands to your sides. You didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that it’s out in the open you can’t really take it back. Curse you and your word vomit.
“It’s not bullshit.” he takes a few closer to you cautiously. “I get that you have boundaries, and I am willing to respect every one of them. But standing here, right now, you are beautiful. And I don’t really want to stop kissing you.”
You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Ten days ago you would never have imagined him being this caring human that actually has a heart. Yet here you stand, faced with a big decision.
“Then kiss me.” you say shaking a bit.
In two long strides he is there, taking you in again. His hands are wound up in your hair and his lips are tangled with yours. You didn’t realize that bitter taste of alcohol on his breath until now, and oddly enough it re-energizes you. It’s amazing how he can make you feel so many things all at the same time. How he does it is a mystery, and you didn’t want to solve it.
Taking you by the hand, he leads you over to the stand up piano that sits on the raised stage. He lifts you up and climbs up, taking a seat on the rickety piano bench.
“You showed me something. Now it’s my turn to show you something.”
His hands dance around the keys again, this time to a tune that you don’t recognize. His focus is razor sharp as he plays. When he starts to sing, you think back to that piece of paper he handed you a few days ago, with the lyrics about a boy and a girl scribbled on it. That’s the song. This time it’s you who watches in adoration as he spills out his feelings through his music. Holy crap. You are completely and utterly in love with Brendon Urie.
“Did you write that for me?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes.
“I did indeed.” he smiles softly. “Hey.”
“Crap I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually emotional.” you laugh away the tear that is rolling down your cheek. He swipes it away with the pad of his thumb.
“It’s kinda cute, actually.” he admits.
“So where does this leave us?” you ask avoiding his eyes.
“Well… I was thinking.. maybe we could start a relationship. With real dates, kisses, hand holding, all that shit.” he asks reaching for your hand.
♫ Devil's Backbone- Civil Wars// Golden Trio Era: Draco x Reader
Request: For after Valentine’s Day is over would you consider doing a Dracoxreader based on the song “devils backbone” by civil wars
A/N: I had a LOT of ideas for this, so it’s highly possible that I’m going to try one of the different versions once I get the time! I hope you enjoy this loves! xo
Draco Malfoy is 17 years old, grown out of the innocence of childhood. Grown out, yet wishing, more than anything, to turn back time and revert to an age when there was no black ink on his forearm and no acid tears stinging at the walls of his heart. He has become a paradox, perplexing, wounded, breathtaking.
It has become a sin for him not to sin, tears of melted steel streaming down his cheeks. He is like a dead language, saints and histories hiding under his skin, unseen, tragic. Violently beautiful and poignantly broken, he sees a single ray of light, and while she may bite at his skin and pull at his heartstrings, she shines through the dark that he himself has become.
Y/N is 16 years old, fallen in love with forbidden fruit, bittersweet and practically fatal. She gathers his stories in her skirts, sewing them in with threads of cold silver and keeping them close to the heat of her skin. Brave, unwavering, savagely beautiful, she becomes a shield of unjustified love.
Okay, so this is a short-ish dark Reddie. There is fluff but it is angsty and mean as well with smut. PLEASE NOTE: They are both just over 18 here, this blog does not support pedophilia, just like it doesn’t support FACK (but that is another story) Anyways- this does contain self harm, abuse, and anger. It does have a happy ending tho. For my newly made friend @grownups-are-the-real-monsters because it’s been a while since I’ve been inspired to write- thanks!
Richie cringed, his fist clinching directly proportional to the rate his eyebrows were knitting together. A shaky breath escaped his lips, which were trembling. His leg grew warm and tingly, a feeling he learned all too quickly to relax into. His right hand fell back from his thigh, the razor in his hand glistening red as he exhaled deeply, a smile tugging at his lips, followed by a panicked giggle. Looking down at the small gashes into his leg, he couldn’t help but laugh even harder. It was funny. Who would have known that he, out of everyone, would have turned into this? Richie couldn’t help it. After all, what was the harm if no one knew? It was funny.
"My heart and soul were never mine to own. We die alone, we all die young.“
He quickly wiped the blade on his black t-shirt, hiding it under his mattress and taking the headphones off from over his ears, his parents familiar screaming coming back into focus. He unlocked his bedroom door, stomping down the hall, hoping down below they would hear and stop. But they didn’t- they never did. His shorts fell and covered the mess that his leg was, though he didn’t realize he’d cut deeper than before, and he didn’t feel the blood trickling down his leg as he threw himself out of the house, flying towards his bike. Beer bottles scattered and the whole yard smelled of ashes, a result of everyone’s collective drinking. His included.
All he could think of was Eddie. Getting to Eddie’s house and leaving this one behind. He knew the other must be asleep, after all most normal people were at 3 am. But he selfishly didn’t care. He cried hard, tears blurring his vision, he almost ran out into traffic twice, nearly getting hit the first time, and the second was enough to lose balance and crash from the bike to the sidewalk. His glasses flying off and landing with a sickening crunch, but he didn’t care. He dusted himself off, ignoring the screaming of the man behind the wheel, found his cracked lenses, and mounted again, rocketing down the hill at break neck speed. He still had a ways to go, fifteen whole minutes of eternity before he would reach his best friend.
In the meantime, Eddie was sprawled onto his stomach, wheezing and sobbing wildly into his pillow. He clutched at his chest, not caring for his inhaler, choosing instead to wallow and drown in the feeling of suffocation, the burn and pull as his lungs slowly felt like they were sinking into themselves. His mother had once again thrown pamphlets for some straight camp at him, demanding he heal himself and get over his sickness again. Again, again, this would mark the 3rd time that he would have been sent to camp to ”cure“ him. Three weeks of group agony, kids just close enough to share each other’s pain, but too afraid to get close enough to make a real friend.
This time he wouldn’t go. He’d rather die than go again. All he could think about was the screaming and the ice baths and the physical exhaustion and the cult-like videos about heterosexuality that only scared him further away from what his mother thought of as healthy. Shakily standing up, he finally took a breath from the inhaler, calming a bit once gaining some oxygen, and made his way into the bathroom. While he didn’t want to go to another hell camp, he still hated being the way he was. He couldn’t help but regret it and hide that part of him away. Only Beverly knew, and Stan. He knew the group would still love him, but he felt so ashamed. He laughed tiredly. Shame was hereditary.
He turned on the bathroom sink, the hot water full blast, and stuck his hands under, hissing at the steam and near boiling temperature. He quickly grew used to it. He had developed an obsessive habit for cleanliness after having a panic attack. He had already showered, but his hands felt nasty, he had coughed into them and cried into them and they needed to get the negativity off. He pumped a handful of soap and began to lather manically, shaking hand grabbed for the steel wool and he began to scrub painfully hard, breaking skin within a few moments, but still he scrubbed until the bubbles in the sink began to turn pink, the water as well. He teared up from pain, and finally stopped scrubbing when there was more blood than soap left in his small, shaking hands. Who would have known that he, out of everyone, would have turned into this? It was funny.
“Is the Devil so bad if he cries in his sleep while the Earth turns?”
He began to bandage his hands when he heard the faint tap of hands at his window. Eddie panicked, and dropped the bandages, cussing under his breath as he heard the window slide open, and a weight hit his floorboards. Without thinking, he shoved his trembling fists into the pockets of the gray hoodie he was wearing, moments later remembering it wasn’t his fucking hoodie. He peeked around the edge of the bathroom door, thankful to have his own. His mother was asleep but he couldn’t risk her seeing anyone sneaking in. Let alone another boy, let alone Richie. She hated him the most, insisting that it was because of him and his long hair and tight jeans and “fuck you” attitude that Eddie had “turned into a queer”.
Eddie stepped forward, forgetting about that when he saw the dried blood on Richie’s leg. His wide eyes tipped the other off, and he looked down, gasping, and then laughing. It was a very hollow, sad sound, and it made Eddie nervous. He couldn’t stand when Richie wasn’t happy. He could always tell when the boy’s depression or rage hit him, even if he was good at hiding it from the other’s, he could never hide from Eddie. Eddie loved him too much. Too much in more ways than one, but he’d never tell anyone that. Except Beverly. She could draw secrets out of Fort Knox with her big bright eyes and soft arms and warm heart. But seeing Richie’s leg made the rest go away.
“We…We really need to take care of that.” Eddie flinched, his voice was cracking and thick sounding.
Richie noticed right away, and glancing at the shredded pamphlets on the floor, sighed. “Looks like we’re both having a shit night, huh Eds?”
“Get in the bathroom and don’t fucking call me that, Gangly boy.”
“Did I make Dr. Kaspbrak mad? I’m sorry! Will I still get a sucker after the visit?”
Eddie flushed, picturing Richie with a lollipop made his ears heat up and his heart heavy. “Shut the fuck up, that’s gay.” It came out harsher than intended, and Richie quieted.
“Rich, I’m sorry- that was meaner than I thought it’d be.”
The other laughed as Eddie brought out the medical supplies, back to him so his hands stayed hidden. “Trust me Eddie, I’ve heard worse from your mom. No joke intended, there.”
Before Eddie could think, Richie was suddenly in front of him, his face serious. He took the first aid kit from the smaller’s hands and set it down abruptly, taking his hands. “Seriously though are you okay? I know those camps… the ca-” Richie’s hands felt sticky, and he looked down. “Jesus fucking CHRIST Eddie. What did you do?! What happened to your hands?”
Eddie pulled back sharply. Muttering to Richie about not worrying about it, when Richie stopped him. Wordlessly, he pulled Eddie in for a hug, sighing against the other’s neck, causing him to shiver. Before Eddie could react, he pulled his hands up and began kissing them, a thin layer of blood sticking to his lips, looking like a guilty shade of red lipstick. Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest. It made Richie look so beautiful, his wild hair, sad eyes, red lips. Eddie shook his head, and tried to pull away when Richie closed the distance, and smashed his lips into Eddie’s, snaking an arm into his hair and one into his back pocket, immediately beginning to cry.
“What do you want from a Devil like me?”
They both backed into the bathroom wall, Eddie returning the kiss with only a moment of hesitation before it felt like his chest was exploding. Despite the muffled sobs. This. This is what he’d been dying to do to Richie since he first ever thought of being with anyone in this way. Richie whimpered into the other’s mouth, clawing at the over-sized hoodie and mumbling incoherently as he trailed kisses down Eddie’s jaw into his collarbone. The smaller of the two completely forgot about Richie’s leg, choosing instead to painfully rip the hoodie off, his soft and pale chest exposed before he pulled Richie back in, nipping aggressively at his neck, his turn to wind shaking and burning fingers into the other’s hair, neither caring that blood was now streaked on Richie’s face, and both had blood on their tongues.
“You see, the Devil don’t mean to be evil, he just regrettably forgets to exceed expectation.”
“Shit… Eddie.” Richie pulled away, and for a moment Eddie panicked before he saw his face. Richie’s eyes were heavy lidded, lips swollen and nostrils flaring. “Eddie. Bed. Now.”
“What…? Why do you want to go there?” Hesitation laced his voice. “Are you doing this because you want to or because you’re out of your mind…?”
Richie chuckled, this time with warmth. “Both. I’ve been dying to do that for a long time. And I’m woozy.” He said the last part under his breath, Eddie missing it. “Now, bed Eddie. Please.”
Silently Eddie took Richie’s hand in his, and led him across the room to his bed, neatly made with fresh sheets, but a tear-stained pillowcase. It was enough to make Richie’s heart tighten in sadness, then anger. The smaller boy didn’t deserve this hell. Neither of them did and it wasn’t fair. He channeled his anger into pushing Eddie down onto the bed, quickly throwing off his shirt and shoes as Eddie took off his own pants. He laid gently down on top of the other, careful not to hurt him, and kissed him hard again. Eddie was quick to unwind, years of sexual tension between the two of them melting away as they shared oxygen and eye contact and mouths. Hands in hair, hips against one another, whining and moaning and lost within one another for what felt like hours.
Eddie worked at Richie’s pants, taking them off and getting inpatient with the way they clung to him. “Richie what the fuck, these are basketball shorts they shouldn’t be stuck to you-” He stifled a scream, Richie’s entire upper thigh was soaked in blood. “What the fuck, Tozier?!”
He jumped up, running for the first aid kit, quietly hissing at the other the whole way. “And you thought I was bad? What, did you just think this was gonna happen? With that? What the fuck happened to you, Ri-”
Eddie stopped in his tracks. Richie was quietly shaking, sobbing into his hands. He had curled up with his knees to his face, and for once he looked so small and so pale and so weak. It broke his heart to see him like this. He wasn’t supposed to be sad. He was supposed to be a lot of things. Funny, angry, high, hungry, happy. Not sad. And not whatever this was. He walked over and perched softly onto the bed, taking Richie’s bad leg and stretching it out, causing Richie to groan. He gave a reassuring pat to his calf, and moved in closer. There were several red and angry lines, some thick, and some several inches long. All of them open and bleeding and congealing. Eddie gagged- the bike ride made them worse.
He worked quietly and gently, cleaning the wounds and dressing them with medicine and wrapping his upper thigh tightly in bandages he usually saved for his own hands, which he had easily forgotten about in this case. The whole time he was whispering sweet nothings to the other boy. Beautiful. Kind. Worth-while. Intelligent. Sarcastic. Strong. Tough. Warm. Sexy. Cute. Ethereal. He shakily told him how much and how long he’d been in love with him. When he was done, he clumsily cradled Richie against his chest, kissing his temples and forehead and nose and eyelids and lips- anywhere he could reach. Slowly, Richie began to reciprocate. Kissing Eddie on the lips, smiling into his cheek, running his shaking hands across his collarbones, wrapping arms strongly around him.
“Does the Devil get scared when he dies in his dreams where the Earth burns?”
It was 6 am. The sun was rising through the window. They heard a car start below as Eddie’s mother left for work. Richie looked up to Eddie, smiling. He told him he loved him. That if it was okay, that he would love him as long as he could. Eddie only laughed gently, saying the same things back. Mirroring affections, kissing between every other word, falling back onto the bed, not caring that the sheets had blood and tears. Eddie was now on Richie’s chest, their legs tangled together as they relaxed finally. Eddie’s hand over Richie’s heart, and Richie’s hand stroking Eddie’s hair.
“Let’s move out.“
Eddie looked up. "What…?”
Chuckling, Richie added. “Okay, we’re both 18. Let’s get a place together. We both work. Let’s Get a place with Beverly, and Ben. Hell, with everyone even. You’re not staying here. I won’t let her hurt you anymore.”
“I should be saying that to you. You have it worse. You’re right. Let’s just… Let’s get out of here. For good. We’ll tell the Losers. Anyone who wants to come can, and anyone who doesn’t is always welcome. Lets just go to the next town, or the one after. Richie, you’re right.”
“I know I am, Eddie. You know what else I know?”
“What, you dork?”
“Despite how it looks, this is the best day of my life. And I am in love with you completely.”
The two boys held onto each other for a bit longer, before untangling, and getting dressed. They remained true to their words, packing as many bags as Eddie had with clothes and medication and a little food. They both walked to Bill’s house, and stayed with him for the day, talking with the group. That they’d leave. Surprisingly- or not, however you look at it- everyone agreed, it was time to leave this town. This place that had made a personalized hell for them all, and had victimized them for so long. They had grown numb to so much, but there was a difference between numb and happy. “It” wasn’t the only thing they’d had to face. And this town was eating at them all. The Lucky Seven packed their things, some saying goodbye to family, others leaving without a trace. The Losers, the Lovers, they packed up and moved out.
It was about fucking time. Eddie smiled at Richie driving his beat up van down the highway, and reached across to hold his hand. In front of everyone. Eddie wasn’t surprised, no one loved him any less. No one in their group had changed. Everyone he needed, everyone Richie needed, everyone the other needed was right here. And had been from the beginning. Eddie’s hands barely hurt. And for once, his heart hurt even less.
“What do you want from a Devil like me- are you like me? You are like me.”
Rated T for mention of nudity (and things get just a tiny bit sexual in the end wops)
Word count: 2.3k
Synopsis: Yoongi has ivory skin and silky hair; he’s beautiful in the most elegant of ways: a burning one, although his eyes are filled with ice instead of fire. He’s terribly tempting and you keep meeting him - too bad he only wants to steal your soul.
Author’s note: This is a very random series of drabbles, a bit messy too, probably. Anyways, hope you’ll enjoy itand of course feedback is always appreciated <3 <br>
The halls of the studio were silent as Bendy walked down them. There was no dripping of ink from some unknown place, no hiss of Searchers from puddles underfoot, not even his own breathing made a sound. Everything was still and silent.
The place was clean, too; cleaner than he’d ever seen it. The wallpaper was fresh, the siding and skirting tidy, and the floorboards were evenly fixed and made no noise as he walked over them. The posters that were splayed across the walls were undamaged, looking brand new. And, there wasn’t a drop or splash of errant ink anywhere. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn he’d ventured into one of Joey’s hallways.
The director always did like to keep things immaculate.
I should have known. Everyone warned me. Sam, even Cas who hadn’t even met the girl yet had warned me she was trouble.To stay as far away from her as possible. Of course I didn’t listen, falling under her spell immediately, and now I can only blame myself.
As soon as I saw her, I became a different person. Someone needy, and desperate, willing to do anything to spend a second in her arms. To stare into those mesmerizing eyes of hers, pretending the problems of the world didn’t rest on my shoulders.
“One more push kjæreste (sweetheart). One more push.” I said as I held Astrid’s hand tight as she gave one final push. “There you go kjæreste (sweetheart). There you go. I see her. I see our daughter.”
In a few moments, a small child’s cried filled the room as our hearts started to race. The doctor wrapped up our daughter up and handed her to Astrid. She started to cry tears of joy as she held our daughter for the first time.
“Hello my little one, I’m your mother. Welcome to the world.” Astrid said as she smiled down at her. “Eric, say hello your daughter.”
“Hello Hel. I’m your father.” I said, wrapping my arms around them both as I smiled. “You know, you’re just as beautiful as your mother.” I kiss Astrid’s forehead as I rested my head against hers. “I love you Astrid.”
“And I love Eric.” Astrid said as she handed Hel back to the doctor. I kept looking over at our daughter as the staff started to clean her up. “Go ahead Eric, I’ll be fine.”
I walked over to the table Hel was on. I stood their smile down at her as she looked up at me. I could feel my heart racing and I had butterflies in my stomach. This right here, is what every parent feels. Unconditional love for their child.
“You know kjæreste (sweetheart)” I said, looking over at her. “She looks just like you.” She gave me a faint smile before she let out a heavy sigh. “Astrid, are you okay kjæreste(sweetheart)?” I walked over to her.
“I want you to look after our daughter Eric. Protect her from the darkness in this world. Promise me you won’t let anything bad happened to her.” Astrid said, taking my hand and holding it tight. “Promise me Eric. Promise me. Promise me you’ll take good care of our little Valkyrie. Promise me Eric.”
“I promise Astrid. I promise.” I said, holding her hand hand tight. I could feel how cold it was getting.“Astrid? Astrid?”
“I love you. I love both of you.” Astrid said, as she smile at me. “I love..” Her smile faded asher eyes started to get heavy. “…you…both of you…”
“Astrid?” I said as she close her eyes and the motors went off. “Astrid!”
Finally figured out when I’m doing with the rest of the story and now
we can start moving again. Thanks for all the love on last chapter. It’s
appreciated. Here’s a link to the other chapters in case you need to refresh
your memory or catch up. Enjoy!
Derek should have known when Ahsha mentioned the mirrors on
the ceiling a year ago, that she was going to love them. The couple spent the
last three nights at the baller’s upscale Los Angeles condo. Ahsha had fallen
in love with the ceiling mirrors she fell upon before they became romantically
involved. Though her muscles were screaming, the dancer had a big sexual
appetite that Derek had no problem feeding that morning. Their one year
anniversary was the next day and they had started celebrating early.
Surviving a year in this harsh industry was tough. Dating as
an athlete was simply a challenge, especially if you were popular.
“Damn, Ahsha,” Derek moaned, gripping the dancer’s thighs as
she rolled her hips against him. A sheen of sweat lay upon her mocha brown
skin. With her head thrown back, her body quivered as pleasure rumbled through
her petite frame.
Waking up to morning sex got their days started off right.
Hands planted on Derek’s broad chest, Ahsha slowly rolled her hips, feeling
every inch of him sink inside of her. The sun wasn’t even up, yet the love
birds couldn’t wait to please each other. Derek couldn’t help but admire
Ahsha’s beautiful features under the dim lighting. His hands roamed her
chocolate thighs and found their way to Ahsha’s hips, before Derek pulled
himself into a seated position. Ahsha placed her hands on each side of his
neck, her head still hanging back as she stared at herself in the ceiling
mirror. The rise and fall of their brown bodies turned her on even more.
Derek’s lips connected with her sensitive buds, licking and sucking until
Ahsha’s body began to shake. The dancer’s nails dug into Derek’s shoulders as
the player matched her rhythm. Flipping them over, Derek spread Ahsha’s thighs,
before settling between them.
“You trying to tire yourself out before the day even
starts,” Derek teased roughly pumping himself into Ahsha’s heated flesh.
Her body jolted violently with each stroke. “Oh shit,” she
cried, closing her eyes tightly, trying her best to hold on through Derek’s hard
“Open your eyes, baby,” he forced out in between shallow
breaths. Following Derek’s demands, Ahsha opened her eyes to see their slick
bodies moving in the mirror. Watching their reflection in such a naughty act,
was probably one of the most erotic things Ahsha had ever done. She watched her
changing expressions the more Derek pounded into her petite body. His back
muscles bulged as he tried to control his own release. But, she felt so good
that it hurt. The tightness of Ahsha’s quivering womanhood, swallowed him,
making it difficult to pace himself. Paired with her moans and nails clawing at
his back, Derek was bound to lose it at any moment.
Wrapping her legs tightly around Derek’s waist, the dancer
rolled her hips upwards, meeting his tantalizing thrusts. The headboard bumped
loudly against the wall, only a small indication of how hard they were going. Their
bodies rattled from the pleasure, but they couldn’t stop. By this time, they
were both drenched in sweat.
Derek whispering the dirtiest things in Ahsha’s ear, only
heightened her senses. She could feel her heart thumping in her ears as Derek
lightly bit into her neck. A powerful sensation pulsed throughout her muscles
as the dancer climaxed. Her partner quickly pulled out. “You know I hate when
you do that,” Ahsha sighed, barely able to catch her breath. Ever since their
pregnancy scare a couple of months ago, Derek wasn’t even chancing it. With
their luck, the next time wouldn’t be a scare. “I’m sure you’re not ready for
me to put a baby in you, yet,” Derek answered rolling over to his side of the
bed. Laying against the damp sheets, the couple stared back at themselves in
the mirrors up above. “Them damn mirrors will be the death of me,” he laughed,
glancing over at Ahsha who was still trying to recover.
Later that morning, the couple had a big breakfast to start
off their day. “You making those chocolate pancakes again,” Ahsha asked,
entering the kitchen in Derek’s dress shirt from the night before. Little did
she know, chocolate pancakes would become a staple in their family.
“Nope, I know how much you loved those the last time,” the
baller joked, remembering the first time he made Ahsha pancakes. The poor girl
didn’t leave his house the entire day.
“Very funny,” Ahsha playfully hit his arm, before sitting on
the counter near the fridge. “You never told me where we were going for our
“Because you aren’t supposed to know. It’s a surprise,” he
winked, turning towards the dancer. In nothing but basketball shorts, Derek
“Bet I can get the surprise out of you,” Ahsha hummed,
biting her bottom lip and reaching for the top of Derek’s shorts.
“Hey now, you need to save your energy for the surprise,” he
replied, still stepping between Ahsha’s legs and resting his hands on the counter.
“Ugh, fine. Guess I’ll wait,” she pouted, crossing her
ankles at Derek’s waist. “Impatiently,” Ahsha added under her breath before
pecking her man on the lips.
“Your patience will pay off,” came Derek’s reply. He placed
a tender kiss on Ahsha’s forehead before turning back to the stove. “Now if you
keep questioning me, you might get yourself in trouble.”
After falling silent for a few seconds, Ahsha cooed, “Baby,”
causing Derek to turn back around. The grin on her face only made him smile. “Where
are we going?” Her boyfriend laughed to himself and placed the spatula back on
the counter. Their playful banter was one of the many highlights of his
morning. For once, Derek could say he was truly happy with his life and the
direction he was going.
Leaning towards Ahsha’s ear, Derek whispered, “Keep playing,
Davenport.” His words make her pool between her legs. Though a soreness had
formed from their activities that morning, that ‘threat’ was promising.
Before she was free to leave for her surprise anniversary
trip, Ahsha had to attend dance practice. It was hard to focus on practice when
Derek was holding out and not telling her where they were going.
“Sooo, what are ya’ll doing for your anniversary,” Kyle
questioned, joining Ahsha on the floor to stretch. “Bet he’s going all out for
you, girl. Private jets, fancy cars, mansions….no telling what he has planned.”
“Wait, has he told you anything,” Ahsha piped, moving in
closer. “He won’t tell me a thing, but I can act shocked. Where is he taking
Kyle’s eyes widened as she held up her hands. “Derek hasn’t
told me a damn thing. And if he did, I wouldn’t go blabbing about it. What type
of friend do you think I am?”
“The type to tell me what Derek has up his sleeve,” Ahsha
added, tilting her head to the side.
“Ha! Well, I don’t know a thing. So, it looks like you won’t
be getting info from me, Carebear,” the blonde quipped, shaking her head. “Let
that man surprise you and stop being nosey.”
“You two get on my nerves,” Ahsha groaned, rolling her eyes
dramatically. As they finished stretching, one of the assistant coaches entered
the gym with a notebook in her hands and blank expression. All the girls stopped
their side conversations and gave the coach their attention.
“Hello ladies,” she began. “Um…I have some bad news. This
morning, Jasmine was arrested for some really horrible crimes. We thought we
should tell you all first before it hits the news. Obviously, this means that Jasmine
is no longer a Devil Girl along with Diana, who we fired for other reasons.”
The entire group gasped and started talking amongst
themselves. Ahsha immediately thought back to that night she ran into one of
her teammates leaving Oscar’s office in tears.
“Please do not answer any questions from the media. We don’t
need to make this situation worse than it already is. I’m sorry this happened,
but we will move forward as a team and get past this,” the coach explained,
before thanking them and leaving the gym. They were all left in confusion. What
had Jasmine done to get arrested and what happened with the rookie, Diana?
“What the hell? Wonder what’s going on,” Kyle spoke to her
friend. “How do you come in here, drop a bomb like that and expect us to go
back to practice like nothing happened?” None of it made sense and the dancers
weren’t even given details on exactly what was going on with their captain. Ahsha
had a bad feeling that it was the very thing she avoided in Oscar’s office a
year ago. Since the Terrence breakup, Jasmine had been harder on Ahsha and she
was even more difficult to deal with. Practices were harder, Jasmine was the
devil in Devil Girls. The fact that her popularity was weening and Ahsha was
growing as a dancer and entertainer, made Jasmine’s skin crawl. So, she took it
out on another dancer, who was weak minded.
“I don’t know,” Ahsha replied, her mind still wandering. Whatever
was going on, she planned to stay far away from Oscar Kincade. Where there was
trouble, he always seemed to be in the background.
Later that afternoon, Ahsha had her bags packed and was
waiting at her parents for Derek to pick her up for their flight. Of course,
Sloane and Pete were concerned with Jasmine and Diana’s arrest. “Did this girl
ever try this mess with you,” Sloane asked her daughter as they sat on the
couch, watching a press conference from Oscar.
“Nope,” Ahsha lied, remembering the encounter in Oscar’s
office. There was no way she would ever let her mother know about that. Being a
judge, Sloane would have tried everything in her power to turn that place
“Wow, this is just disgusting. How was she getting away with
this for this long? That girl was selling bodies to get rich,” Sloane added in
disgust. No one knew who leaked the
information to the authorities but they had documents proving Jasmine was
pandering, which was illegal. She was receiving funds from people and basically
pimping out dancers. Diana was an easy target and supposedly one of Jasmine’s
most popular prostitutes. If convicted, Jasmine could serve 3-6 years in
prison. Everything she had worked for was gone and her reputation was in
“It’s crazy,” was all Ahsha could say. A person like Jasmine
was hard to feel sorry for and as sympathetic as Ahsha could be, she had none
for the ex-Devil Girl.
The mother and daughter were interrupted by Pete and Derek talking
loudly from the kitchen. “Uh oh, looks like your dad’s buddy is here,” the
mother stated, pushing herself to her feet. “I’d much rather hear about sports
than this mess.”
They found Pete and Derek watching the kitchen television. “Hogging
Derek again,” Ahsha asked, sneaking up behind her boyfriend and father.
“Oh, hey baby. We were just looking at this draft stuff. I
told your pops that he should let me make a few decisions for his team,” Derek suggested,
pulling his girlfriend into a hug. “I don’t think he trusts my decisions.”
“Hey, you stick to basketball,” Pete added. “Let me handle
the football stuff.” Seeing Pete and Derek bond so quickly was heartwarming. Ahsha
being Pete’s only child, he missed out on having a son. So, any chance he got
to talk sports with Derek, he took advantage of it. These talks would go on all
night if Ahsha or Sloane didn’t step in.
“Hi Mrs. Davenport,” Derek said, hugging Ahsha’s mother.
This was the one relationship that was the most important outside of his bond
with Ahsha. Sloane, like many mothers, didn’t know how to take Derek at first.
All she knew about him was that he was a professional athlete and her mind went
straight for the stereotype. Typical male athlete with many women and many
problems. Over the past year, Sloane began to get to know the baller and had to
admit she was wrong for judging the book by its cover.
“Hey sweetie. You two about ready to go,” she asked, clasping
her hands together.
“You trying to kick me out,” Ahsha gasped playfully. “Fine
then, guess I’ll get out of here then.”
“Perfect timing, with all this mess going on. Can’t believe
that girl was doing this sort of stuff in the arena. Maybe you two can escape
the media frenzy to follow,” Pete added, slapping Derek’s shoulder. “Guess we’ll
let you two get out of here. Have fun and be safe.” Pete and Sloane said their goodbyes and walked
Derek and Ahsha to the front door.
“Ever been to the Hamptons,” Derek asked Ahsha when they
reached their limo. The dancer could only shriek in excitement as they began
their journey to the airport.
After settling in their luxury Hampton vacation home, the
two began getting ready for their dinner reservations later that night.
Steam settled in the spacious bathroom as Ahsha relaxed
against Derek’s chest in the jet stream tub. Eyes closed and feeling relaxed,
the dancer enjoyed the feeling of Derek’s fingers massaging her scalp. “You
sure we can’t just live here,” the dancer sighed.
“That would take you moving in with me first,” Derek shot
back, making Ahsha’s eyes pop open.
“Move in,” she repeated. “Derek-“
“I know, I know. You don’t want to rush it. I’m just saying
the mansion is open whenever you want to make that move.” That would be a major
step in their relationship and honestly, it was scary. Everything was going
well for them and moving in too soon would ruin them. Were they ready? Derek
liked to think he was. “Can I ask you something,” Derek questioned, after the
silence became too much. When Ahsha gazed up at him, he continued, “Do you
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Of course, I do, what made
you ask that,” Ahsha exclaimed turning her body, so she was facing Derek.
“Trust has nothing to do with me not moving in. I just…I don’t want us to move
“Even though you’re over my house and I’m at your apartment
everyday,” the baller added, cocking a brow.
Derek shook his head. “It’s cool, no need to explain. I get
it,” he expressed. But Ahsha knew it wasn’t cool and Derek obviously felt like
she didn’t trust him enough to make this big move. Wanting to clear up that
assumption, Ahsha straddled his lap causing water to overflow. “I trust you,”
“That’s good to know. You know I’d never intentionally hurt
you. At least I hope you know that,” Derek began. “Again, the mansion is open
to you whenever you want to make that move. No rush and no pressure from me.”
“I want us to be on the same page,” Ahsha explained. “We are
serious and this isn’t some fling. I’m in it for the long haul….if you are.”
Derek’s hands slipped under Ahsha’s bottom, “Baby, it’s
going to take a lot to run me off. After all that chasing I did, you think I’m
going somewhere,” the baller exclaimed.
“Good,” she teased, slightly moving her hips.
“I mean, who is going to put it on you like I do,” Derek’s
deep voice beckoned, alluding to a special night they had ahead of them. “Or do
you like this,” he continued, his thick fingers finding Ahsha’s opening. Falling
victim to Derek’s sexy tease, Ahsha closed her eyes and began moving against
Derek’s hand. “Or this,” he assured, kissing Ahsha’s neck. The light touch of
his lips on her skin drove her insane. Warmth spread throughout her body as
Derek’s tongue traced a pattern down to her collarbone.
“Oh,” Ahsha gasped, as Derek moved his fingers in and out of
her womanhood. Water spilled out onto the floor as Ahsha quickly grabbed the
sides of the tub, bracing herself. Pleased with himself and his lady love’s
response Derek slowly worked his fingers, while massaging her sensitive bud. The
dancer became jelly in his hands, sweet moans a beautiful song his ears. Ahsha’s
lips parted as she concentrated on a rhythm, following the soft sway of the
water. Their love boat was surely taking off for the night.
Ahsha continued rolling her hips against Derek’s fingers as
he massaged the most sensitive part of her body. “Derek…” she moaned, his name
the only thing she could push from her lips. Pressing his mouth to her chest,
Derek’s fingers slid in and out, causing his girlfriend’s body to shudder. He
felt her grinds become jagged as she neared her release. Ahsha’s grip on the
tub tightened as she rode out her climax.
The young couple only had a little time to spare if they
wanted to make it to dinner on time. Reservations were at 9pm and they were
leaving the house at 8:36pm. Their driver was waiting out front for them. “If
you weren’t playing around in the tub, we could be on time,” Ahsha complained,
climbing into the limo.
“But who wanted to take a bath when the shower would have
been faster? ‘No, Derek let’s take a bath, I love this tub,” Derek mocked
holding Ahsha’s hand as she climbed inside.
“I don’t even sound like that,” the dancer argued, with a
“I think you enjoyed yourself in that tub too,” Derek
winked, as their driver shut the back door. “Maybe we can continue after
But some things couldn’t wait.
On their way to the restaurant, the pair couldn’t keep their
hands to themselves. The sneaky touches
and sex eyes were a match that neither one of them could win. “You better stop
before you start something you can’t finish,” Ahsha joked when Derek’s hand
landed on her bare thigh.
“Now you know I can finish it,” he replied in her ear, his
breath tickling her neck and sending her into a fit of giggles. “So, what do
you say,” Derek asked, implying that they finish what they started in the tub.
“We’re in a limo,” Ahsha whispered, looking at the driver
who was taking glances at them in the rearview mirror.
“Okay,” Derek teased. Ahsha’s eyes fell upon the bulge in
his pants. Looking back towards the driver, she asked, “Sir, could you roll up
Without question, the driver said, “Will do, ma’am.” The dark
window separating the front and back seat, rolled up. Derek bit his bottom lip
when Ahsha hiked up her dress and straddled his lap. Unzipping his trousers,
Derek helped Ahsha ease down on his hardened length. Suppressing her moan, she
began to ride Derek as best she could in such a confined space.
“Good way to start off our anniversary night, huh,” Derek
quizzed, his strong hands gripping Ahsha’s hips as she rose and fell.
“Mmmmmhhhm,” she hummed, circling her hips. “You think the
driver knows what we’re doing?”
“He will, if you don’t stay quiet,” Derek boomed, meeting
her rhythm, causing Ahsha to moan loudly. Their driver wasn’t listening to music, so
they knew he could hear. “I’m pretty sure he knows now,” the player noted, his
hands moving the dancer’s hips up and down. With her fingernails digging into the leather
seats behind them, Ahsha gave her man the ride of his life…and it had nothing
to do with the limo.
“I’m going to sweat my hair out,” Ahsha huffed, feeling
sweat form on the back of her neck. At this point, she was sacrificing her
thick tresses for dick and it seemed worth it. Derek’s hand palmed the back of
her head, his lips curving into a smile.
“But, it’s worth it though, right,” came Derek’s response. When
Ahsha didn’t answer, he pumped his hips upward. “Right?”
“Oh God, yes,” she moaned. Picking up her pace, the back of
Ahsha’s thighs roughly collided with Derek’s thick legs.
All their poor driver
could do was politely interrupt them over the intercom system. “Um, excuse me…we
should be at Tutto II Giomo in about four minutes.”
“We’ll be ready,” Derek answered, before covering Ahsha’s
mouth with his own to quiet her down. Their tongues becoming a mass of
desperation and lust. Four minutes to spare and their bodies were a ticking time
bomb. “Fuuuck…Derek, I’m close,” Ahsha cried out between kisses.
“That’s it baby, let it out,” Derek encouraged, squeezing
her firm buttocks. How did his voice still sound soothing in a moment like
this? Violently grinding her hips against the player, Ahsha began to catch a
cramp in her leg, but that wasn’t stopping her. “Mmmm, girl you just don’t know
how powerful your pussy is,” he whispered in her ear, when they hit a speed
bump. Ahsha’s body betrayed her, sending a potent force throughout her body. The
orgasm touched every nerve, almost paralyzing her as the pressure thumped
between her legs. She had never felt anything like it in her sexual life. No
words could describe how euphoric it felt.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” Ahsha stated unable to
Once the car came to a stop, they attempted to straighten
themselves up before the driver came around to open their door. “We have
arrived. Enjoy your dinner,” the driver said, not even able to look them in the
eye. You would think he’d be used to this type of behavior. He spent more time
getting his interior cleaned than actually driving people.
“Thanks man,” Derek replied, handing him a healthy tip.
Good food and wine always set the right mood. Add in good
conversation and it was a perfect night. “You’re looking a bit tired, baby,”
Derek said after Ahsha yawned. “Limo ride wear you out,” he added suggestively,
narrowing his eyes.
“I’m not tired, just relaxed. I feel…good.” Ahsha sighed in
Butterflies formed in her stomach when Derek reached across the
table and grabbed her hand. “You look beautiful tonight,” he spoke sweetly, his
gaze fixated on Ahsha. “Thanks for making this year one of the best in my life.”
Squeezing his hand, Ahsha blushed, “And thank you for doing
the same. Thanks for trusting me, Derek. I know this is all new to you but you’ve
been great and that’s all I can ask for.”
Hearing Ahsha pour out her heart was refreshing and made
Derek feel like he had finally done something right when it came to
relationships. “I know I gave you a hard time in the beginning,” she continued.
“But, I’m happy I gave it a chance. Especially after Bobbi threatened my ass
multiple times. I wish she could have gotten to know you more, you would have
loved her crazy ass,” the young dancer stated, a hint of sadness in her tone.
It had been a year since she had tragically lost her friend. Ever since then,
Ahsha learned to appreciate every day and the people in her life more and more.
Her relationship with Derek was cherished more than he would
every know and vice versa. Sensing that pang of sadness, Derek gently massaged
her knuckles with his thumb. “I won’t take that chance for granted,” he grinned,
his smile spreading widely across his face.
“Oh, I know you won’t,” Ahsha cheesed. “After what we did in
that limo, I have you wrapped.” Thinking back to their sexy car ride almost
made Ahsha blush. Their feelings for each other were reaching new levels.
Derek picked up his wine glass and held it in the air, “To
growth, love and us.”
“Forever,” Ahsha replied, clinking her glass against his.
She was the one.
Thank you for being so patient with me! I hope you all enjoyed this
chapter. Dersha has finally reached a milestone and next chapter we will skip
ahead 3 years. Thanks for reading!
Maybe we’ll get some mirror action when Hit the Floor returns to @betnetworks. Hmm? *wink wink*