#spike x summers! reader

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

Financially Secure (Spike x Reader, BTVS)

Warnings: sexual content below the cut

You didn’t come to bed until late. Spike was up reading, but when you slid into bed he set the book on the nightstand. He had adapted his schedule so that he could be there when you fell asleep, which worked out because most of the time your shift didn’t finish until it was near dawn anyway.

You knew he didn’t approve of you working yourself to the bone, but it was hard for you to accept any money that he offered. You had been able to come to terms with most of the things he did, justify it in your own mind by comparing his behavior now to before, trying to reason that he was getting better every day. But the money— He had no way to get money without engaging in some seriously unethical activity.

You had tried to explain this to him before. But tonight, he was pushing it.

“Baby, you don’t need to take all these extra shifts,” he said, rolling into his side and wrapping an arm around you. “I’ll get you the money.”

“I don’t want to be dependent on anyone,” you yawned. “I like working.”

It was true, partly. The diner was normal. It gave you a break from all of the end-of-the-world plots that seemed to be going on at all times. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t dream of something better.

Spike knew this. He buried his face in your neck, kissing up to your ear and biting down lightly on the cartilage. “It’s beneath you.”

You rolled over to face him. “It’s predictable. Comforting.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Spike murmured. He cupped the side of your face, kissed along your jaw. “This is a small thing for me. Let me help you.”

You swallowed, knowing he could feel the way your body had tensed. You wanted to say yes, but what if this led to other favors? Next thing you knew, he’d be threatening anyone who so much as stepped on your foot.

“It’s a big thing for me.” You tried to keep your voice light, but it wavered. “I don’t want to be your hooker.”

“Don’t say it like—”

You pressed your lips against his, running a hand through his hair the way he liked, but he pulled away. His eyes were almost concerned. You didn’t know he was capable of it when it wasn’t touched with fear or anger.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you reassured him.

“Love—”

You didn’t want to bicker about this. Not tonight. Not when you were so tired you could hardly keep your eyes open. 

“Look, if you want to help so badly, why don’t you start paying rent?” you asked. You wouldn’t really let him contribute, not knowing where the money would be coming from, but it was nice to pretend. And it would ease his mind, at least for awhile. 

“Paying rent?”

“Well, you’re over here all the time anyway. And you know I don’t like to sleep alone.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to move in full-time?”

You shifted, tucking an arm beneath your head so you wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I mean, it has to be more comfortable than the crypt.”

“Summers, are you trying to lock me down?” he asked in mock surprise. “You didn’t even start calling me your boyfriend until a month ago.” 

“It’s almost winter!” you protested. “It’s going to be miserable out there.” 

“We live in California,” he said slowly. He laid down flat so he was level with you, tugging your arm out from under you so he could wrap the tips of his fingers around your own. “And I can’t feel the cold anyway.”

“I don’t want to want to visit you in the graveyard when it gets dark at 5 pm.” You were almost pouting now, nearly out of excuses and he knew it. 

“Do I get a drawer?” he asked. “That’s what they do in all those movies you like, right? First you get a drawer.”

You scoffed, causing him to tug on a loose strand of hair. “You have about three outfits.” You trailed your hand up his chest to the neckline of his t-shirt, snapping it against his skin. All of his clothes were so tight. “But yes, you can have your own drawer. You can have a whole dresser if you want.” 

“How much is rent in California, anyway? $10,000 a month? $20,000?” Spike wove his hand through your roots, pulling you down to his mouth. It was soft. A few weeks ago, you’d introduced him to beeswax lip balm instead of the gas station chapstick he usually stole. It was paying off.

“Tell me how financially secure we’re going to be,” you whispered against his cheek. The stubble scratched your chin deliciously. 

“We’re going to pay all our bills on time.” 

He licked a strip of skin on your neck. His hands traveled down, down. You exhaled as he pinched the skin at your hip, rolling it between his index and thumb. 

“I’m going to get you a new car.”

Spike slid down you like a pole as your eyes fluttered shut. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder. Now his stubble was scratching your stomach, then––

“Dawn’s college fund is going up.”

This time you moaned. Your cheeks flushed as you forgot how to close your mouth. Spike smiled against you. You could feel his teeth pressing lightly into your thigh, biting down. 

“You’re never going to want for anything again.” 

#buffy #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #spike x reader #spike x summers! reader #btvs

[taylorsversion22]

This is my Roman Empire! They are my Roman Empire ❤️😭

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #buffyverse #spike x reader buffy #buffy x spike #buffyposting #buffy meme #buffy meta #spike btvs #spike #william the bloody #btvs #buffy btvs #btvs meta #spuffy

[ausfortheheart]

bait - ANGELUS (btvs)

(angelus x female!reader one-shot)

summary : in a desperate attempt to catch angelus, the scoobies send you in as bait.

a/n: i don't usually write darker pieces of writing such as this, so lmk what you think ! :)

warnings : gets a bit spicy, sexual references, strong language used, angelus hurts reader, mention of blood, a sprinkle of yandere, kinda angsty?? 14+

"Angel?" You said uncertainly, pushing open the door to his apartment. It was unlocked.

The silence felt consuming, and you swallowed anxiously as you took small steps inside.

His bed was untidy, duvet strewn across the floor, "I came to ask for help, there's a demon-"

"(Y/n)? You're back?" He walked in after you. You forced yourself not to wonder whether he had been following you or not.

His voice startled you and you failed to suppress a flinch. You hadn't seen him like this yet, had only heard the chilling stories that Giles and the others had told you full of the details of what he was capable of. Buffy had been determined to keep you far away from Sunnydale, from the soulless demon, to hide you and ensure your safety. You had been face to face with Angelus before, and it hadn't turned out well. But things had changed, your situation had changed, and your friends needed help to defeat him. No matter the cost.

He looked almost exactly the same as always, except his brown eyes were filled with faux concern. "Are you okay?"

Angelus advanced towards you as your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall opposite. Seven and a half minutes. Then Buffy would be here, and Angelus would be caught and restrained. A couple of minutes. You could do that.

Yet you hadn't entirely been sure of your friends' plan- luring Angelus into one place would surely be something the two-and-a- half century old demon would expect. But your friends - Buffy especially - were desperate, and it seemed that the vampire couldn't resist an opportunity to spend time with you. To kill you, was your assumption. He had made it clear from the start that he delighted in these small games that you all played. What worried you was that he always left as the winner.

"Yeah, I have to write an article on Sunnydale's history; I'm an intern now at the Sunnydale Press." You explained, your confidence increasing, "I figured you could help. I arrived this morning and the others weren't home so.." You trailed off, uncertain if he'd bought it. You were doing a terrible job at pretending and you knew it, but the others insisted that it should be you who stalled Angelus. In the past he had always been slightly more lenient in a situation where you were involved.

"I thought you needed help with a demon?" He jested, and your heart dropped. He knew, and you were fucked. But there was nothing left to do except play along.

The vampire slowly advanced and you moved backwards, "Yes, uh, an article on the history of demons in Sunnydale."

Your back hit Angel's wardrobe, and the man opposite you smiled.

"I've never liked liars." He said absentmindedly, finger lifting your chin as he observed you. The fear in your eyes was evident and he inhaled your scent, distress seeping from your pores. "Tell me, (Y/n)," He began, closing what little distance was left between you. If he had been human, you would've been able to feel his breath hitting your face. You shivered. "-and don't lie," he continued, "do you ever think about me?"

You struggled against him, "Angel I-"

"Don't say his name," Angelus spat through gritted teeth as his hands harshly grabbed your wrists, keeping you firmly in place. "And feel free to keep struggling, precious, but just do it a little more to the left." He groaned.

You didn't respond, breathless and feeling nauseous. The both of you knew that you could easily resist him more if you tried, but Angelus knew that despite what you told yourself you didn't want to.

"At night, when you're in your small double bed, cushions propped up around you, hair down, head leant against the headboard, heart racing, in your thin, thin silk dress," He paused as though he were imagining it right then and there, imagining the fabric, imagining how when it hit the moonlight it was practically see-through, "the one in that pretty shade of periwinkle," his eyes found yours again, and you swore they darkened. You were shaking under his touch, terrified at the prospect of this, monster watching you when you were most vulnerable. During moments you had thought you were alone. Private moments. And how had he even known where your friends had hidden you? "-do you ever think about me?" He repeated, pressing into you as a warning that if you dared to lie, to even consider it, he would know. The frail, wooden wardrobe shook at the movement.

"Yes." You whispered, barely audible, eyes focused on anything but his face.

He removed his hand from your left wrist and tilted your jaw so that your eyes were forced to look into his brown ones. Angel's eyes, yet lacking Angel's warmth.

"Good, good." He dragged the words out as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

Your eyes fell to his mouth, then hurriedly went back to his eyes. He was smirking, he'd noticed.

"And how," his face morphed into a vampire's, "does it make you feel?"

Tears brimmed in your eyes as he grinned, revealing his fanged teeth. A warning. It was pointless- his teeth would end up buried in your neck no matter what you said.

"Good." A salty tear fell onto your cheek, which he instantly swiped away with his thumb. "And I hate myself for it." You mumbled, voice breaking. You had always had an attraction to Angel, even during his relationship with Buffy, and the shame of it was suffocating. She had never been anything but good to you, and you had repaid her by stealing glances at Angel whenever you thought no one was looking.

However now it became clear that someone had been.

"What was that?" Angelus lowered his fangs towards your neck at a tantalisingly slow rate. As though he meant to drag out the pain, to burn this memory into your brain.

Your eyes fluttered closed in preparation as you whispered, "I hate myself for it every, day."

A small scream left your mouth as the door to Angel's apartment was broken off its hinges, clattering onto the floor only inches away from where the two of you were. Buffy.

Angelus slowly pulled himself off of you. As a result of the interruption, his fangs had only managed to puncture the top layer of skin, leaving behind two red dots that quickly began to pool with blood. Angelus licked the smudge of red off of his fangs, making a show of savouring the taste.

Your best friend and mentor, the slayer, began to fight the vampire as you tried to help at every possible opening, but it was no use. He easily escaped.

Your neck on fire, you gently brushed the tips of your fingers against it, pulling your hand away to see them coated in crimson blood. Something told you that Angelus would be back for more.

thank you for reading!! lmk your thoughts <33

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #angel btvs #angelus #angel the series #buffyverse #Angelus buffy #Angel buffy #Angelus x reader #Angel x reader #buffy summers #spike buffy #giles btvs

[hippiegoth97]

hippiegoth97's Fic Master List

Banner by @cafekitsune

Characters/Fandoms I Currently/Will Write For

Stranger Things: Mainly Eddie Munson, but I’ll write any adult and older teen characters (portrayed at least 18+), I WILL NOT age up child characters

The X-Files: Fox Mulder

Fargo: Gator Tillman

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Giles, Spike, Angel, Drusilla, Faith, Buffy, Willow (Basically anyone except Xander, all portrayed as 18+) 

Ghostbusters: Egon Spengler

Once Upon a Time: Killian Jones, Regina Mills

Slumber Party Massacre 2: Driller Killer

Pretty in Pink: Stef McKee (18+)

Current Works

Into the Fire (Eddie Munson x Female Reader) Master List

Last Christmas (Eddie Munson x Female Reader) Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

You’re A Winner (Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

I Want to Believe (Fox Mulder x Female Reader)

Roam Pt.2 (Rockstar Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Diary of a Hawkins Hussy (Stranger Things x Female Reader) Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7

Be Kind, Rewind (Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Any Way You Want It (Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Upcoming Projects

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Driller Killer x Female Reader)

Who Ya Gonna Call? (Egon Spengler x Female Reader)

Watch Me (Giles x Female Reader)

You’ve Got Me Hooked (Killian Jones x Female Reader)

If You Leave (Stef McKee x Female Reader)

I Want to Believe Pt. 2 (Fox Mulder x Female Reader)

Requests

As you can see, I have a pretty full plate as it is. If you make a request, the most I’ll feasibly be able to do is blurbs. I may possibly do a one-shot, if the idea sparks strong inspiration in me. I’m open to most things, but there are some things I WILL NOT WRITE. I'm not shaming or judging anyone who writes/enjoys them, I'm just not comfortable writing these subjects:

Rape/Non-con (I’ll write references/flashbacks to past sexual assault if it’s beneficial to the story. But no rape fantasy)

Incest/Stepcest

Cheating (In a positive light)

Anything relating to Minors

Watersports/Scat/Vomit Kink

Omegaverse (I honestly just don’t know enough about it)

Pregnancy/Breeding Kink

Pretty much anything else is on the table, so have at it!

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams @slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals @eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30 @jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson @sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975 @costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles (Please let me know if you ever want to be added or removed from the list!)

#writers on tumblr #fanfiction #hippiegoth97 #eddie munson #stranger things #1980s #fandom #smut #once upon a time #killian jones #driller killer #slumber party massacre 2 #gator tillman #fargo season 5 #stef mckee #pretty in pink #egon spengler #ghostbusters #fox mulder x female reader #x files #buffy the vampire slayer #rupert giles #buffy summers #spike btvs #angel btvs #faith btvs #willow rosenberg #drusilla #hawkinshussy

[iwritefandomimagines]

rewatching buffy (shock horror i’m already rewatching something else and adding to the never ending list of things i want to write for) and am feral as fuck for spike again right now.

there’s nowhere near enough buffy fic content on this app … do i need to take matters into my own hands hm

#buffy fanfic #btvs #spike x reader #spike btvs #angel btvs #buffy summers #xander harris x reader #angel x reader

[prose-for-hire]

Spike & The Scoobies: “You can’t invoke the Dark Arts to keep Passions from being cancelled!”

A/n: Platonic reader. It took me forever to think of a gender neutral term for someone that practices magic. I went with sorcerer xo

You were known in Sunnydale for possessing powerful magics. You were a sorcerer known to the good, the bad and the ugly of Sunnydale. You made a point of doing good for people with your magic but you never turned away anyone just for the way they looked or what their past was.

That was how you had met Spike. He was friendly with you and so you helped him from time to time so long as it didn’t harm anyone or get rid of his chip.

That was how you found yourself and Spike draped in black hooded cloaks sat inside a pentagram drawn on the floor. The store was closed and it was dark out, only light was the ceremonial candles.

Just as you were finishing your chant, the door was unlocked and the bell rang and interrupted you. You squinted at the door, frowning at the distraction before you sensed the anger from the group. Giles and the rest of the Scoobies had entered to have a meeting at the Magic Box.

You sensed they hadn’t quite been told what you were doing here. Spike decided to stay casual, ignoring the irritated shout of Giles asking just what the hell you thought you were doing in his shop.

“Oh, right. This is Y/n” Spike gestured with his head as you pulled the cloak down that had been obscuring your face.

“Hey guys” you waved and smiled at your friends

“We know who they are, we meant what’s with the evil chanting?” One of the group stated.

“You said you had a key” you scowled at Spike.

“No, love, I said I didn’t need an invitation, public property ain’t it?”

“Whatever, anyway, we should probably finish this spell. Do you mind, Giles, I just assumed he was your nephew or something?”

“Ah, so long as it isn’t nefarious in nature”

“Not really my style, you know that!” You insisted, you had thought Giles thought better of you. You met him every Thursday afternoon for tea.

“Not yours maybe”

“Just asking the Hellmouth for a little favour. They scratch our back, we scratch theirs…”

“You’re calling on the dark arts?”

“Grey… a dark watercolour at best” you insisted, you hadn’t realised that your two friends didn’t like each other. They were always talking about the other it seemed.

“Passions is worth it” Spike muttered

“You can’t invoke the Dark Arts to keep Passions from being cancelled!”

“Actually… Mom might forget to make me babysit Dawn if she’s distracted by Passions”

Buffy admitted, sitting next to you and crossing her legs inside the Pentagram much to the rest of the groups disbelief (and Dawn’s shout of annoyance).

And that was how Passions stayed on the air for the rest of Spike’s un-life.

#anyone want to do some grey arts #and get buffy back on air with me #maybe not everyone should come back…. #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #gender neutral #buffy summers #gender neutral reader #spike btvs

[vampireluck]

Rules, requests, masterlist and other cool stuff.

-

Hello! I wanted to just outline some stuff for my writing as I've gotten a few requests, so y'know:0.

-

I will write- Fluff, angst and smut. (I just can't promise it'll be good because I don't have a lot of experience writing it and my irl experiences have been. mediocre) pretty much anything:)

I will not write- Noncon/dubcon, urophilia, coprophilia, emetophilia/anything of that variety and character x character (it's just not my thing !)

More will be added to these lists as I think of them, don't be afraid to rq! If it's not something I'm comfortable with I'll just add it to the list:)

-

I am a fan of SO MUCH STUFF and I'm willing to write for all of it, so I'll list some here and add more when I think go them;) Anyways!! here they are:)

Resident Evil, Saw, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cillian Murphy + characters, The Walking Dead, Sally Face, Criminal Minds, Spider-Man + Marvel (Marvel vaguely tho) and mayyyybe Star Wars!

-

When I create a masterlist ill put it here!:)

-

And finally, I want to say I hope I'm able to make u all happy with my writing:) I'm more than willing to accept constructive criticism and please always feel free to message me:))

#jill valentine x reader #rick grimes x reader #cillian murphy x reader #patricia braden x reader #breakfast on pluto #kitten braden x reader #neil lewis x reader #jackson rippner x reader #saw 2004 #saw 2004 x reader #adam faulkner x reader #adam faulkner stanheight x reader #adam stanheight x reader #claire redfield x reader #Chris Redfield x reader #leon kennedy x reader #Buffy Summers x reader #spike x reader #luis sera x reader #luis navarro x reader #Albert Wesker x reader #Ada Wong x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #sheva alomar x reader #piers nivans x reader #helena harper x reader #Amanda young x reader #angel btvs x reader #spike btvs x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader

[strawberrysodaslut]

SPIKE

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[ main masterlist ]

[ taglist ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

all of my smut and other nsfw posts are 18+

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

F I C S

hmmm… nothing here yet…

D R A B B L E S

still nothing here… how strange…

#buffy #btvs #buffy x spike #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spike #spike btvs #spike x reader #spuffy #william the bloody #spike smut #spike fluff #spike angst #spike btvs smut #spike btvs angst #spike btvs fluff

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The One Where Ethan Rayne Returns

Part 2

AN: This four-part fic will contain spoilers for Seasons 1-6 of Buffy as well as canon typical behaviours, fighting, and references to violence.

“You know I forgot just how much I hate that guy,” Xander remarked after Ethan had left.

“He delights in messing with your mind and sowing chaos wherever he goes,”  Rupert replied, walking back over to the counter.  You had a feeling that he was going to create a protection spell around the Magic Box just in case.

“Do you think he was lying then?  About wanting to warn us?  What if he were really here to meet Willow because of what she did?”  Dawn inquired rapidly.

“With Ethan you can never be too sure what he’s planning.  He’s as sneaky as a fox.” 

“What if we could?”  Willow mused eagerly after Giles had finished talking, “What if we tracked him down and cast a truth spell on him?”

“No Willow!  That would be too dangerous.”  Your voice trembled as you considered the many things that could go wrong with that plan.

“I-I-I’d be careful though.  I can be sneaky.”  The young witch protested.

You rubbed your hand over your forehead, “Willow, Ethan has years of many more years of experience wielding magic than you do.  Not to mention that the magic he uses borders on dark almost chaotic magic and he frequently associates with demons who are unpredictable at best.  His knowledge of magic and his association with demons would give him a considerable advantage over you.  He’d probably be able to sense you coming.”

“That’s true,” Spike agreed.

“Though some demons have been known to help humans they care about.”  Xander added, throwing you a pointed look.

Getting the hint you nodded, “Xander’s right.  Anya, you’re doing a fantastic job managing the Magic Box and I’m happy to call you my friend.”

“I manage the Magic Box because I enjoy money.”  Anya stated.  “But I do enjoy living here with friends and having sex with Xander.  I just wish you didn’t have so many bunnies.  They’re evil.”

“But what about Ethan’s warning?”  Shouldn’t we look into that?  I mean he had to have known the reception he’d receive if he came back here and yet he did it anyway.  What if it’s really important?”  Willow argued.

“He only revealed that he came to warn Rupert after Rupert had shoved and punched him.”  Qui-Gon reminded her.

Rupert bristled at the concealed distaste in Qui-Gon’s voice, “When it comes to Ethan, it’s better to hit first and ask questions later,” he said stiffly.

#my writing #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy x star wars crossover #reader insert #rupert giles #qui-gon jinn #rupert giles x reader x qui gon jinn #rupert giles x reader #qui-gon jinn x reader #xander harris #buffy summers #dawn summers #willow rosenberg #tara maclay #anya jenkins #ethan rayne #spike

[eddiemunsonsbedroom]

My brain keeps replaying a scene in my head of dancing in a bar to Closer by NIN (pretend it was out then lol) and Eddie on a barstool watching.

Kinda these vibes but Buffy, girl what is this dance. Ily tho

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #st s4 #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spike

[hartxstarr]

to that one anon who said my old chucker fics are good: thank you.

#‘’that one anon’’ c. fifty weeks ago #i think about it all the time #wish i could write something that wasnt spike sfucker rn #i want to explore those two more in my current writing style but i cant find inspiration #<- due to sfucker spiegel #one day. #to bring it in a different direction though—i look back at them an i don’t particularly like them #‘’i want you by my side’’ is the closest because its the most recent #‘’bullet time’’ that vibe is closest to my current style i would say #so i like it only for that tbh #i dont want to talk about ‘’summer’’ much tbh. fracas in general #i mean i would. i would talk. but fracas as a whole i was such a different person back then #ect ect #in conclusion: spike sfucker ruined me writing much else for a bit. sorry about that #green talks #(reigen and hawks x reader in the works for those of you in the know—which is no one presently here)

[thoughtssvt]

adventures of sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby [ pt. 2 ]

nanami kento x reader ; fluff & humor ; nsfw joke | [ pt. 1 ]

MDNI — 18+ interactions only

A/N : it's implied that reader is still attending school, whether that be college undergrad or grad is up to you; tldr: reader is over the age of 18

"darling, are you busy right now?" kento's voice dripped from the speaker of your phone like thick honey.

"nope, go ahead," you confirm that you have time to talk as you wipe the sweat off your brow, the summer sun and scalding water making your body temperature rise.

you could practically hear kento's brows furrow, "are you sure? you sound a distance away and I can hear the water running," he said suspiciously.

you cringed, holding your breath as you slowly slid the plate onto the rack only to cringe at the sharp hiss of ceramic skidding against metal.

"I thought you started using the dish washer," kento sighed, the creak of his office chair putting the image of a disappointed kento leaning back in his chair in your head.

"I don't trust it, kento!" you cried dramatically. you would've clutched at your heart if your hands weren't soaking, sparkling glasses weeping on the rack at the mere thought of being thrown in satan's machine.

a staccato sigh and your muffled chuckles filled the kitchen. "anyway," kento continued, "I was wondering if you had the energy for something public." he asked, always considerate of your social battery.

you blotted your hands against the hand towel that hung from the oven door's handle, humming happily as you reached for the nice hand lotion kento had gotten for you, worried about the state of your hands considering the temperature of the water you habitually used. "why? is this some secret exhibition sex club thing that you rich people have?" you teased.

"I want to treat you to an outing since you refuse to do it yourself," kento poked back, speeding passed your joke, already used to your antics.

"oh, not denying it? does it actually exist?" your eyes widened in feigned suspicion, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"do you know why I started looking for a sugar baby?" kento continued. you sucked in a breath only to be cut off, "nevermind... don't answer that." kento sighed, making you chuckle. "I wanted someone to enjoy spending my money. I lost that kind of excitement a long time ago, so you don't have to hold back. you can ask me for anything that will make you happy, okay?" he explained, sincerity oozing from his voice.

you nodded as you listened, ears perking up towards the end. "anything?" you parroted drawn out and timid.

౨ৎ

kento scrubbed his hands against his scalp, blond locks effectively spiking in every direction. you were both sat next to each other at the dining table, crowding around your laptop-- the one you'd refused to replace, deadset on it lasting you at least another four years despite the volume the fans worked being loud enough to wake kento from his sleep. kento sat defeated, chin digging into his palm as he stared into the abyss while you wore a gleaming smile on your face, excitedly knocking against the table as you waited for your prehistoric machine to load.

once the confirmation screen popped up you wrapped your arm around kento's, pulling him in close. "you were right, kento! spending all this money is fun!" you chimed, wiggling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kento stared at you with glassy eyes. "I don't know what to do to make you understand," he croaked. "was this really fun for you?" he softened as he took in your features and how much more energized you seemed after just a few clicks.

when he got home from work you'd dragged him to the table, pulling up the tragic student loan debt page, eagerly asking him if it was really okay to spend this much all at once. he'd paid off your loans and the remaining balance of your current semester. you felt like you were floating, to say the least.

kento was more than happy to pay these debts off, but he'd assumed that if you had any they would've been your first priority, not a scrubdaddy and a dish rack. he deflated once again at the mere memory.

you chuckled fondly at the display, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "fine, fine. let's go."

his brows knit tightly as you input the address into his phone, sticking it to the dash before securing your seatbelt. you had him park a bit away from a 7-eleven. he followed you hesitantly, watching as you hummed quietly to yourself, a bounce in our step as the two of you took a short walk down to akihabara station. you stopped with your arms spread in a grandiose gesture, the wall behind you stacked floor to ceiling with gashapon machines.

"i've always wanted to try one of these, but the probability that I would get what I wanted on my first try was always slim." you explained as your eyes scanned the wall for a specific capsule series. you held your palm open asking for coins which kento handed to you with a gentle smile.

he watched you for who knows how long. the capsules kept coming, countless duplicates filling his arms. and it was worth it to see your smile, bright and unashamed, every time you popped a capsule open.

"ah, finally!" you cheered as you turned to kento, a small plastic sandwich in the palm of your hand, the same sandwich he got everyday for lunch.

his heart overflowed, spreading heat across his chest. you'd gone through all that work just to get his sandwich. even given the opportunity to do something for yourself you still thought of others, but you were happy and that was enough for him.

"come, come! I think I saw one that had a desk like the one in your office." you beamed, eyes busy searching for the machine with every intention to set these figures up in the corner of your own desk. somewhere along the way kento left you for a moment just to stop by a store for a bag, dumping all your gachas in it until you got exactly what you were looking for. a smile plastered on his face as you continuously loaded coins into the machine.

he rests a hand on your thigh on the drive home, pinching it just enough to grab your attention. "thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his face to kiss at your knuckles. thank you for showing him all the small happiness the world had. he had a lot to learn from you.

part 1 | sugar daddy kento masterlist | jjk men x reader masterlist

divider by @tyuniwa

tag list : @that-goth-bisexual @yannauauau

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk fluff #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanamin #jjk kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x gender neutral reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby #sugar daddy nanami #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami kento fic #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #kento nanami x gender neutral reader

[scuderiahoney]

Color Theory

Oscar Piastri x artist!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy. Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: alcohol, mild drug use, sexual content 18+ MDNI, overuse of color descriptions

It’s summer in Australia, your favorite time of year despite the overbearing sun and the overwhelming heat. Sweat spikes on your brow, but the sunlight that pours through the windows makes you happy. The door to the back garden is open, the smell of wildflowers blowing in with the breeze. You can hear your roommates chattering in the other room. You hold a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other. There’s something just slightly off about this piece, some part of the light you’re not capturing quite right. You step back from the painting, trying to get a better view of the whole picture.

Someone calls your name from inside. You ignore them. By the third time you hear your name, you give in, setting the palette and brush down and heading inside. You’re still wearing your apron, covered in paint marks.

Lizzy, one of your roommates, smiles at you. “How’s it going?”

You sigh heavily. “Can’t get the light right.”

She nods in understanding. “We’re ordering pizza. Oscar’s on his way. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case you decide to try painting in your underwear again.”

You laugh. “It was one time,” you say defensively. “It was hot out and I was trying to become-“

“-one with the art, I know, I know,” she teases. “Just giving you a warning!”

You lean on the counter and let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? Him being here?”

Oscar’s an old friend of yours, and your roommates, too. Old, like preteens old. He left for the UK so long ago that you’d probably barely remember what he looked like if it weren’t for video calls and social media and now, his face being plastered everywhere. You’ve kept up, have stayed friends through it all. But it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him in person in over a year, the first time he’s ever going to visit your shared house, the first time since… since he became Oscar Piastri and not just Oscar.

Lizzy shrugs. “Only weird if we make it weird, right?”

She’s right, to a certain extent. Your other roommate, Leo, shows up with Oscar in tow, and you do your best to not be weird about it, and you think it works. He greets you and Lizzy with long hugs. He smells like sea salt and something warm. His body’s much more firm and filled out than he was the last time you saw him, which makes sense, you suppose. He still smiles like golden yellow sunshine, though, crinkled eyes and round cheeks and that near permanent blush on his face.

The pizza arrives shortly after he does, and you all settle into the living room to catch up. Oscar tells stories about racing, about his first year in F1, about his teammate and his competitors. You’ve been keeping up with the races more than you ever did before- Leo always wanted to watch but you hadn’t cared that much before it was Oscar, before the guy in the orange car was the same kid who used to finger paint with you in the backyard, your mother worried about the mess. Now you sit glued to the TV most Sundays.

In turn, you, Lizzy, and Leo update Oscar on what he’s missed. All about your family lives, your jobs, your other friends he’s lost touch with. He listens intently to each story, the way he always has.

“What are you doing for work?” He asks, nudging your knee.

You sigh dejectedly. “Nothing fun.”

He pouts. Leo elbows you and speaks up, though.

“She’s still painting, though,” he says brightly. “You should see the sunroom.”

Oscar’s face lights up. “Is that your studio? You always said you wanted a sunroom.”

He’s always been one of your biggest supporters when it comes to your art. He’s the one who’d join you in the art room at lunchtime in school, eating his lunch at one of the counters while you worked on your latest piece, unable to put the paintbrush down. He’d attended all your art shows, had bought you paints and brushes and sketchbooks for birthdays and Christmases, and had even posed for a portrait you’d been required to paint for class. He’d had a hard time sitting still for that long without falling asleep.

You nod with a smile growing on your face. “Living the dream with that one.”

The night slips away from all of you, caught up in conversations about everything under the sun. You find yourself feeling sad when Oscar goes to leave. He does it with hugs and a promise to be back in a few days. When he leaves through the front door, you feel that emptiness again, that hole that’s never healed quite right after he left.

Lizzy sees it on your face and squeezes your shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Two days later, you’re deep in painting mode, eyes beginning to ache as you stare at the canvas in front of you, when there’s a noise from the sunroom doorway. You turn and find Oscar standing there, eyes wide, brows raised. He chews on his lip sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. You hold back a laugh. “Leo said to come over and just let myself in, and I heard a noise, and- sorry-“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, tilting your head and smiling. “Leo should’ve told you, he ran to the store for drinks.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“You’re welcome to hang out, though,” you say, nodding at the chair off to the side in the sunroom. “Don’t want you getting bored all by yourself.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

He never would have questioned it before. He would’ve already been sitting, would’ve already known what you were painting, would’ve helped you get your palette set up. It’s different now. He’s been gone a while.

You jut your chin towards the chair again and wave a paintbrush in that direction. “Please. You’ve never been a bother.”

He was always the only one of your friends that you allowed to watch you paint. He knew when to stay quiet, and when you needed the background noise of his voice, without ever having to ask. He shuffles over to the chair and sits down. Oscar’s gaze dances through the room with wide eyes, and when you turn back to the canvas, you can feel him watching intently.

“What do you think?” You ask, just to break the silence. You gesture at the paintings lined up around the room. “Have my skills improved?”

He lets out a slow breath. “They’re amazing,” he says, and your heart twists in your chest. “I’m so glad you kept up on it. That you didn’t lose your… you know. Passion. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it.”

You nod. Most of your friends and family had spent your teenage years trying to convince you to learn any skill other than art. You’d continued pouring yourself into the paintings. Oscar had been one of your only cheerleaders through it all.

“It’s not easy,” you admit. “Bills and shit, you know? Real adult stuff. But I’ve been trying to get into some galleries recently. I don’t know if it’ll ever be something I can make a living off of, but I’ve gotta try.”

Oscar nods in understanding. “How about when I win my first championship, I’ll make good on my promise?”

You laugh. There’d been a night just before he’d left for the UK where the two of you had stayed up late, out far past curfew at the local park. You’d laid under a tree next to him, giddy on the high of breaking the rules and the late hour. He’d told you all about his big dreams. About F1 and championships and how he was going to make it big. And when you’d asked if he’d remember you, he’d smiled and turned his head towards you, eyes wide in the pale moonlight, nose nearly touching yours.

“I’ll use my money and open a gallery,” he’d promised. “And I’ll fill it with all of your paintings.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Even the bad ones?”

He’d nodded, so seriously. “Especially the bad ones.”

Now he sits next to you in your makeshift studio, so close to reaching his dreams. You can only hope you’ll get there, too, someday.

There’s a party at your house that night. There’ll be more people there than usual, wanting to talk with Oscar and taking up his time. But for now there’s just you and him in the studio you’ve always wanted, the one you talked about under the tree in the park. You’ll take what you can get.

Oscar finds you later at the party, in the back corner of the backyard. The sun is nearly gone, the last bits of daylight slipping away. When he walks up, you’re leaning back in an outdoor armchair, and you smile hazily up at him and hold out the joint you’d been smoking.

He shakes his head. You pout.

“I get drug tested,” he says, and you suppose that’s understandable. “And I think my trainer would kill me over the lung damage.”

“It’s just once,” you friend says next to you, “can’t do that much damage.”

“Oscar’s a high performance athlete,” you tease.

Someone finishes the infamous Daniel Ricciardo quote for you, complete with the sound effects. You’re not really listening, more focused on how Oscar rolls his eyes as he sits down on the arm of the chair. You tilt your head to look up at him.

The late sun is hitting the bridge of his nose, a bright orange band against his freckled skin. He blinks at you with thick lashes, and you wonder how you’d capture the look on his face with paint- the softness of his cheeks, the care that sits heavy on his browbone, the restlessness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t like to do portraits- Oscar’s one of few people you’ve painted, but it was years ago. He was a skinny kid with a bad haircut. Now his jawline is chiseled and sharp, and his hair falls over his forehead in a soft swoop. He's pretty.

He cocks his head at you. You’ve been staring too long. You force a giggle and nudge his knee. He laughs right back.

You’re not sure how he ends up squished into the chair with you, his arm over your shoulder, his bare thigh pressed to yours. You think maybe it was your doing- you grabbed his arm, pulled him until he sunk in next to you. The sun is gone, now, the evening chill taking over, and it’s nice to have him next to you, keeping you warm. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head.

“You can go, you know,” you say quietly. Most of your friends have abandoned the corner you’re in, moving to the lit back deck, or the firepit area. You and Oscar have stayed put, though.

“D’you want me to go?” He asks.

You shake your head. He laughs. “I just don’t wanna take up all your time,” you say with a shrug.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”

You curl in closer to him. You’re right where you want to be, too.

Eventually, the two of you rejoin the group. He stays glued to your side most of the night, though. His shoulder presses against yours, and in turn, you lean against him. He grows quieter as the night goes on. That’s when you remember that his time spent with you while you were painting wasn’t just for your benefit. He’d been a quiet kid- popular, but easily exhausted by socializing. He’d liked the solitude and comfort of the art room nearly as much as you had.

In the backyard full of your old friends, he seems content to stay stuck on you. When he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, you wiggle one of yours in alongside his, hoping you’re not crossing a line. Or maybe, really, you’re hoping it’s a line he wants you to cross. When he knits your fingers together, you sigh happily.

People leave one by one, with hugs for Oscar and promises to watch the next season. He says goodbye to them and then returns quickly to your side. Soon enough, Lizzy shuffles off to bed, and then Leo stretches and does the same, and it’s just you and Oscar. You hide a yawn. You don’t want to go to bed, not yet.

He squeezes your shoulder, his arm around your back, now. He has his cheek pressed against your temple. For a moment, you wonder if you could stay stuck to him long enough to keep him here. If eventually, the two of you would fuse together. That’s probably just your wavering high speaking. He mumbles something into the side of your head. You break from your staring at the coals and make a noise of confusion.

“Missed you,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t…”

This feels like too heavy a conversation to have now, when things have felt so good and warm all night. You know it’s coming at some point, but you’ll avoid it all costs. You turn further into him and wrap an arm around his middle, and let your eyes fall closed.

“I missed you too,” you say, rubbing your thumb against his rib cage through his sweatshirt.

The two of you sit quietly for a few moments. Then, you say, “you know, I still have that portrait I did of you. How many races d’you think you need to win before I can make some money off that?”

He laughs into your hair. His hand has fallen to your side now, and he squeezes- you nearly gasp at the feeling. “I was a scrawny baby in that painting. Nobody wants to buy that.”

You giggle against him. “You were a cute scrawny baby, though.”

It’s not something you would have said all those years ago. You’d have never been caught dead admitting that you thought he was cute. But now… in the safety of the backyard, in the darkness, pressed against his side…

“You’re cuter now, though,” you say.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You nod confidently. He slips his other hand from his pocket. It comes up to hold your jaw, gently. You hold your breath. He tilts your face up towards his.

“You’re prettier than ever,” he says, softly. “And I thought you reached the limit a long time ago.”

His lips are on yours within seconds, then. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you. By now, you know it probably won’t be the last. You let it happen, opening up for him. You slip your tongue past the warmth of his lips. His hand cups the side of your face as that warm feeling melts across your skin, the one that only he brings. You’ve been searching for a replacement since the last time this happened. Nothing comes close.

He uses the arm around you to pull you into his lap. You reach up and thread your fingers into his shirt, something to anchor you in the swirling feeling of him on and around and against you again. His hands fall to your hips, trying to do the same. He kisses like Australian summers, hot and long and sunny and bright orange. His touch leaves sparks behind everywhere he goes.

When you finally break away for air, his hair is a mess, and your lips feel puffy. He grins sheepishly at you. You chew on your lower lip as he brushes a finger over the arch of your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says. Always apologizing. You know he’s not sorry for kissing you. He’s sorry for how this will eventually end.

“Don’t be,” you say, quietly. “Please. Let’s just…”

He nods, then swallows before he says, “okay.”

Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple. You giggle at the feeling and let your fingertips dance against his face and neck. He muffles another laugh into your skin.

“Missed you,” you say again.

“I missed you too,” he says.

He walks you inside. You think about inviting him to stay the night, but you think that might be a bad idea. Instead, you give him a hug and watch him walk out the front door, into the only black and blue night.

…..

You meet up with him and a few other friends at a bar a couple nights later. You walk over from your house with Lizzy, who either doesn’t notice your nervous energy, or is nice enough to just not mention it. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s the people you’ve known for years, and it’s just Oscar. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Except for the still fading hickey he left on your neck, covered by strategically placed hair, and the way you feel his lips on your every time you close your eyes. Yeah. There’s that, sure.

The bar is crowded even before all of your friends arrive. Oscar comes in with Leo, having been out all day while you and Lizzy had to work. There are at least five people there who are acting like they haven’t seen Oscar in years, even though they were all at the party a few nights ago. You try your best to hide your jealousy. He has other friends. He probably likes them way more than he likes you, anyways.

He finds you later, standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, warm shoulder pressed to yours, elbows on the countertop. He smiles softly at you when you turn to him, and he leans into you.

“Hi,” he says. “I was looking for you.”

You want to laugh, because surely he wasn’t, but- there’s something so serious in his eyes. You lean into him in response, just to watch him raise his brows and smile wider. There’s a little mole on the swell of his cheek. You want to reach out and touch it. You refrain.

“I’m here,” you finally say, nodding towards your crowd of friends in the corner. “You’ve been a busy man tonight.”

He sighs, heavily, like it’s been difficult for him. It probably has been. He’s a quiet person in general. Not one to really like being the center of attention. You wonder if he’s exhausted as easily by it now as he was before, or if his years of podium celebrations have dulled the sensation a bit. Wonder how much of your Oscar is still left, under the facade.

He chews on his lower lip lightly, and you smile softly. That’s an old habit. That’s one you recognize. You also think of the night by the firepit, how you’d pulled that same lip between your own teeth, and the noise he’d made in response. Your face grows warm.

The bartender finally turns to you. Oscar orders for both of you, because of course he knows what you’re drinking. Then you follow him back to the crowd of your friends. When he grabs your hand to pull you along, you don’t complain. You just squeeze his fingers in response.

You stumble out of the bar with him, hand in hand, hours later. He’s insistent on walking you and Lizzy home, claiming that Leo won’t be enough to keep an eye on the both of you. You’re just happy to have his fingers locked with yours, to have his shoulder brushing against you as you both sway down the sidewalk. It’s comfortably warm outside, and you hum to yourself as you walk, listening to Lizzy and Leo arguing about nothing important.

Your journey home is stopped by Oscar, who stops in his tracks suddenly. You turn back to look at him. He’s staring across the street, where there’s a neon sign lit up in the window, the word Pizza flashing like a beacon. You laugh as he tugs on your hand.

“No, come on, we’re going home,” Lizzy calls out.

“I want pizza,” Oscar says in response, deadpan.

You turn to your roommates and shrug. “He wants pizza.”

Lizzy sighs. “I want to go home.”

“You guys go,” Oscar says with a dismissive wave. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Less than ten minutes later, your legs are stuck to the vinyl of the pizza parlor booth, knee bumping Oscar’s underneath the table. There’s a pepperoni pizza between the two of you, far too much for you to actually finish.

“Yknow,” he says, waving a piece of pizza around in the air. “Logan dips his pizza in ranch.”

You laugh at the disgusted look on Oscar’s face, at the way he says ranch. You take a sip of the soda he insisted on buying for you, along with the food.

“Bet it’s good,” you admit, shrugging.

Oscar wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a picky eater, but… isn’t pizza good enough on its own?”

You shrug, pretending to think deeply about it. Except that Oscar knows you well enough to know you’re pretending, so he starts laughing. And then you follow suit, doubled over in the booth, grease from the pizza on your fingertips.

As his laughter fades, he presses his knee against yours. It feels deliberate.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says.

Something twists in your chest. “Missed you, too, Osc.”

Your friendship goes through cycles. When he’s here, it’s almost like nothing has changed. But when he’s gone… the two of you aren’t good at long distance friendship. Or maybe, really, you’re better at it than most. You can go months without talking and pick up like nothing has changed. The tough part comes when he’s here, within reach, and then he leaves. That’s the moment you dread, the part you don’t handle well. It would probably be easier if you stopped kissing him every time he came home. But you look across the table, and his lips are soft and cherry pink and slightly shiny from the pizza, and you know that would be impossible.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, because you know he needs to hear it even if he already knows it. “I was worried that maybe now that you’re in F1, you’d gotten too important for… us.”

You really mean me, but it feels a bit too much to say out loud. You think he knows, anyways. He reaches a hand across the table, lays it over top of yours. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“I could never,” he says, eyes drilling right into yours. “Promise.”

He walks you home, hand in hand. The front porch light is on, probably Lizzie’s doing. He insists on coming all the way up to the front door, which is sweet and does absolutely awful things to your brain. Because he’s right there, his hand in yours, and you’re fumbling for your house key in your purse, but really you’re thinking about kissing him. When his fingers squeeze yours, you give up on the key and turn to him.

He knows it’s coming, you think. When you cup his face in your hand, he’s already leaning in.

The kiss is softer, messier, than the other night. You’re both still a little tipsy. But it’s less frantic, more comfortable. His other hand falls to your hip, and you lean back against the front door to your house and melt into him. He presses against you, warm, firm muscle against every curve of your body. You don’t want this to end. You want to wrap your arms around his neck and beg him to stay right here, to never leave, to come back to you.

He pulls away first. You try to kiss him again, hands tugging at his hips as he pants through reddened lips.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles.

You shake your head no. “Not that drunk.”

He leans in close and kisses your cheek. “This is a bad idea.”

That makes your gut twist, makes your chest hurt. You roll your eyes and turn away so he won’t see the way your tears well up. He’s right, you know, but it hurts to hear it.

“I care about you. A lot,” he says, quietly. “And I… if things were different…”

“I know,” you say, because you do know. “Yeah. Bad idea. You should go.”

You leave him standing on the porch and disappear inside the house. When you lay down in bed, you lay awake for hours, swirls of color dancing behind your eyelids.

…..

The next night, you find yourself in your studio, alone. There’s paint on the canvas in front of you- not the good stuff you’d normally use, but the cheap kind you keep on hand for moments like these. Children’s finger paint, runny and thin and non-toxic. It’s running down the palette and dripping down your wrist. You’re in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and frankly, you’d probably be wearing less if you didn’t know your roommates were due home eventually.

Oscar’s leaving tomorrow morning. At this point, the last you’ll see of him for a while will be when you left him on the porch. You swipe a bit of blue on the canvas. You’re not really painting anything, just trying to put color to the feelings. He’s leaving and he’ll be gone for a while again, and things are weird again, because he kissed you and then you kissed him and now he has to leave. You add a swipe of orange. Papaya, you think, gritting your teeth.

You wonder if things really would’ve been different. If he’d stayed, would you be together? Would he love you the way you want him to? Maybe. Or maybe, no matter the universe, this is how it ends. Maybe there’s always a bigger dream waiting. Maybe you’re not enough for him.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s red paint on your fingertips.

“Busy,” you call out.

Someone sighs. You freeze, hand halfway to the canvas. It doesn’t sound like Lizzy or Leo.

“It’s me,” Oscar says. “Can I come in?”

You huff. “Sure.”

He opens the door and blinks owlishly at the sight of you. You know you probably look crazy. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening. Paint runs off the palette and onto your leg.

“Rough day?” He asks, because he knows.

You laugh bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a sigh. “I’m not sorry.”

“No?”

“No,” you say. “I’m just… frustrated.”

Frustrated that he gets to live out his dream while you wither away in the hot Australian sun, waiting for your chance. Frustrated that every time he comes back it sends you into a tailspin. Frustrated that he’s leaving again. Frustrated with yourself for kissing him, frustrated that you want to do it again.

He crosses the room and stands next to you. You watch his shaky fingers drag through the mess on the palette. Then he reaches out and drags them through the mess on the canvas. He’s the only one you’d let do that, the only one who’d be brave enough to even try.

You follow suit, dip a finger in the yellow and smear it in a line over the canvas. Oscar’s finger falls to your wrist, scoops the bright blue from your skin and draws a squiggle with it. Cadmium Yellow and Phthalo Blue mix on the canvas and turn into envy green. Oscar dips his hand into the Cobalt Violet and draws a line of it up your arm like a bruise. You laugh and pick up the Ultramarine Blue to match the empty feeling in your chest. It leaves behind rivers on his cheeks when you hold his face in your hand and kiss him. Gently, first, and then with all the color you can muster up. You drop the palette on the floor. It splatters everywhere.

You wonder how you’d go about painting this. Red for the brush of his tongue, the bite of his teeth against your neck. Blue for the way his fingers dig into your hips. Bright pink for the way he moans into your mouth, breathy and broken and oh-so-lovely. The way you drop to your knees is lavender purple. The feeling of him heavy on your tongue, the way he sighs over it, is sunflower yellow.

He gets paint in your hair when he pulls you off of him, and then he sinks to his knees with you. You think about suggesting the couch, but then he’s pulling you all the way down onto the floor and you can’t bring yourself to protest. He cleans the paint from his hands first, always a gentleman. Then his fingers slip into you in a rush of an orangey-yellow feeling, one that turns more and more pink with each press of his hand, each swipe of his thumb against your clit. And when he finally presses his cock into you, it’s the brightest burst of sky blue behind your eyelids.

The colors melt together in your mind. You’d never be able to put this onto a canvas- not the way he breathes so heavy in your ear, the way his fingers drag against your skin, the way you shake as you clench around him and he spills himself inside of you. There’s no way you’d get the color right.

You drag him upstairs afterwards, both of you giggling, and you gasp when you hear the front door open just as you pull him into your bedroom. You head for the attached bathroom first, drag him under the hot spray of water and watch the rainbow mix into brown and wash away down the drain. There’s paint crusted in his hair and yours- you do your best to scrub it out as he leans heavily against you.

You don’t even bother asking if he wants to stay. You just drag him to the bed and toss him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants you think are Leo’s. He doesn’t question it. You can hear your roommates downstairs talking. You wonder if they know.

Oscar flops onto the bed and reaches for you, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. You go easily, willingly, eagerly. He wraps you up in his arms and presses his face into your neck.

“I…” he starts, then cuts himself off.

“I know,” you murmur, because you do. “Me too.”

I love you. I wish it was different. I would stay if I could. I’ll miss you.

You wake up in the morning to his lips against your cheek. You drag yourself out of bed to walk him to the door. Your chest aches, and the feeling is a color that you can’t quite put your finger on. Someone’s there to pick him up and take him to the airport, take him far away for a long time.

He kisses you on the forehead and squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.

You nod and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. See you soon.”

The ache he leaves behind is a muddy mix of all your favorite colors.

…..

Six months later, you stand in an art gallery full of people. Your paintings hang on the wall nearby. You sip your drink and try to pretend like you’re not waiting and watching their every little reaction. Like you’re not searching for validation in the faces of strangers.

It’s strange to have these paintings hung up for everyone to see. When others look at them, they see pretty landscapes or flowers or a simple still life. They don’t know the meaning of it all.

You step away to grab another drink, something to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. When you come back, the one person who might just see through the facade is standing there, staring, wide eyed.

You swallow tightly and walk up next to him, and let your shoulder bump into his. “You made it.”

Oscar’s eyes stay trained on the paintings, but he leans into you. “Of course I made it.”

You want to tell him that there’s no of course here, that you’d invited him without really expecting him to show up. You keep your mouth shut though. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he is here.

“What do you think?” You ask, quietly.

The truth is, of all the people in the gallery, his opinion is the one that matters most. You wonder what he sees when he looks at the canvases. Does he see the rays of sunlight on a table for what they truly are- a poor recreation of the sun on his skin? Does he realize that the deep purple of the plums in the still life matches the bruise on your knee that lasted for weeks after that night in the studio, the one you’d press your thumb into when your heart ached? There’s the painting of the orange lilies, color matched to the papaya of his car and race suit. There’s a painting of an empty table setting, a painting of a wide open blue sky over the backyard, and most telling of all, there’s the fabric study of his t-shirt, left behind, draped over the chair in the studio.

The collection is the closest thing to a portrait that you’ve done in years, even though there are no people in it. It’s the closest thing to a self portrait that you’ve ever done. Does he know?

His hand brushes against your elbow. He points at the empty plate on the empty table. “That’s how leaving felt for me, too, you know.”

You could cry, just knowing he understands. Instead, you nod and lean into him. You have people to talk to, art critics to impress and studio owners to try to convince, but the truth is that Oscar will always be the only one who truly understands. You stay with him for just a moment longer.

He stays the whole time, even as people begin to leave and the catering staff starts clearing the tables of food and drinks. You find him after you’ve had the last of your conversations with the important people. He’s standing near the door, looking only slightly out of place, scrolling on his phone.

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you say.

He shrugs and smiles. “I know. I wanted to. There’s a pub down the street, it’s one of my favorites. D’you have time for a drink?”

You nod and pout. “Maybe some food too? M’starving.”

He nods eagerly in agreement. He leads you out of the gallery, holds the door for you and everything. The cool London night air hits you like a blast as you step outside.

Right. You’re not in Australia.

It’s a strange feeling, being here with Oscar- his chosen home for all these years, and yet it’s the first time you’re seeing it with him. He reaches for your hand on the sidewalk and tucks it into his jacket pocket, right alongside his. The pub isn’t far- when you get there, it’s crowded and warm, and he helps you slip your jacket off your shoulders. You smile at him in thanks. When he smiles back, your heart skips a beat.

Ten minutes later, you’re at the bar, beers in front of each of you and a pile of chips between the two of you. Your knee is pressed against his under the countertop. He’s smiling at you, his face lit up golden yellow in the inky gray light of the bar.

“So. What did you really think?” You ask, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head, almost disbelievingly. “The same thing I always think. Your paintings are amazing. It was like I could feel it, you know? Like I’m staring at, I dunno, fucking plums, but feeling something completely different.”

You nod, chest feeling tight. You’re unsure of what to even say. How to explain to him that maybe he’s the only one who feels that, because all the paintings are about him. You think of the portrait you did all those years ago, sitting in your storage, and how it doesn’t even begin to do him justice.

“How much?” He asks, and you blink widely. “I wanna buy them. I want- yeah.” He has this dreamy, hazy look on his face. “Can I buy them? Or even just one-“

“Osc,” you murmur. You reach out and press your hand over his on the countertop. “You don’t have to do that.”

He tilts his head at you, and when he speaks, his voice is almost raw. “I meant what I said, you know. The plate. That’s how I’ve felt. All of the art, it’s… you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But they’re not for sale.”

He deflates. You squeeze his hand and try not to grin too widely. “Right,” he says. “No, of course, sorry. Just thought it might be cool to have some of them in my apartment. We could get prints made, right?”

“Sure. “ you pause and take a deep breath. “The gallery wants to extend them,” you say, and his face lights up again. “The curator spoke to me after the show. She wants to keep them up for a few months.”

“That’s amazing,” he gushes, leaning over and pulling you into a hug so tight it almost topples you off the barstool. “Oh, wow, baby, that’s- and I could go see them, then, even when you’re gone?”

You laugh against his chest. “Yeah. Sure. Or, um…”

He freezes, the hand that had been sweeping up your back stuck in place. He’s holding his breath. You might be too.

“They offered me an artist’s residency,” you blurt out. “They want me to come stay for six months, maybe longer if it goes well. Work out of their studio, show art, teach some classes.”

Oscar’s voice is breathy and high pitched when he says, “here?”

You nod against his chest. “I mean. I’d have to find an apartment. And move all my stuff. And probably break Leo and Lizzy’s hearts.”

“But you’d be here,” he says. “Here, like… it took me twenty minutes to get here tonight. And you’d- this is what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”

You nod, eyes burning with tears. “Would that be okay?”

Oscar laughs- you feel it more than hear it, in the shake of his shoulders and the rumble in his chest. “Yeah. I could live with that, I think.”

He kisses you in the bar, nearly pulls you off the stool with the force of it. You kiss him right back, bracing your hand on the countertop, not a care in the world who sees it. Fireworks light up behind your eyes like splashes of paint.

…..

There’s not a sunroom you can turn into a studio in your new apartment in London. It’s a smaller space, and you end up doing most of your painting at the main studio anyways. But Oscar is there, perched on the edge of a table watching you paint whenever he can. And in the entryway of your new place, you hang up the old portrait of him, right next to a photo of the two of you taken just after you moved to London.

In the photo, his arm is around your shoulders, his lips against your temple. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend officially seconds after it was taken, but there’s a light in both of your eyes that tells you it was inevitable, really. It’s something in the way he’s smiling, in the way his cheeks burn red and his lips are pink and the way you smile at him, too. Like you’ve both known it all along. That the two of you have always been complementary colors, just waiting for the right moment.

a/n: been working on this one for a while finally got it! hope you enjoyed thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

#oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri friends to lovers #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri oneshot #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one oneshot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #x reader #honeywrites #op81

[prose-for-hire]

Headcanons for spending the Christmas period with the Scoobies:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! ❄️

A/N: I think most main characters are mentioned, so there should be a little something for everyone (You seem to get on with everyone, you’re welcome).

She’s a long one, so it’s below the cut.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and food mention. Also a bunch of super cheesy holiday cheer (yay). 

- Giles is, naturally hosted the big meal

- Nobody had any plans that year and so he just said that his door was open if anybody wanted to come

- But he had enough food planned out for the entire Hellmouth by then

- Xander was the first to agree, Christmas around his place was not what you would call festive

- Xander had taken to insisting you and the others did Christmas activities leading up to Christmas, you couldn’t tell if this was because he wanted to stay clear of his parents or not

- Either way, you always agreed. That night it was baking and assembling gingerbread houses

- His collapsed about twenty times before he gave in

- While you were fixing his and your own, he decided to convince you all to come on Christmas Day

- Willow reminded the room once again that she was Jewish and wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas

- But when Xander decided that it was less a celebration of Christmas and more a way to warm up your holiday blues together, she agreed

- So did you, Buffy and Dawn

- (It was a rare holiday season that had lined up where you were all single and without your family around)

- After finishing the gingerbread houses Buffy called Giles in to get him to judge the best gingerbread house

- When he stopped in front of the leaning tower of gingerbread that had been Xander’s effort everyone’s jaw dropped

- Xander cheered and gloated his way around the room, conveniently forgetting that it was technically your win

- You had done all the hard work after all

- Dawn sulked in the corner for the rest of the evening after not winning the contest

- Later that month, as Giles was still planning what had turned into a five-course meal at this point, you had been surprised by a visit from Angel

- He was surprisingly big on Christmas and had brought Christmas presents early, muttering something about an LA apocalypse between then and the big day

- He was annoyingly good at gift-giving, he’s more of a listener than a talker

- So you knew you had to get him something equally as good

- You had to race to the store that evening, having not even started your gift shopping yet

- You had Tara and Anya with you, bribing them into coming by buying them something at the Espresso Pump

- You had to get gifts for Angel and his team, you knew Cordy the best and you really missed her (and her high standards) so you needed to pick something very good for them

- The crowds were hard to manoeuvre through and Anya kept elbowing people off the sidewalk that wondered into her path

- It was why you had invited her, she was like a battering ram in these kinds of situations

- She also always had a knack for haggling

- You had found some dusty antique books for Angel and she managed to get the price right down for you

- (but she also warned that if you bought her anything discounted for Christmas you would be sorry)

- By the time you were done it was late and you still needed to wrap your presents

- You grin, having an idea

- You called up your friends, inviting them over to your apartment

- For a ‘gift wrapping party’

- Aka a Trick-your-friends-into-helping-you-wrap-presents-party

- Xander brought alcohol and some gifts for Angel’s team he clearly swiped from a gas station on his way to your place

- Willow had already wrapped hers (cos she loved giving gifts, not because she wanted to be involved Christmas) and she had helped with Buffy’s too 

- but they both came for the party element

- (and… to help you obviously)

- Tara and Anya were already with you, seemingly in high spirits despite the three of you having to fight your way out of the mall

- You cranked the Christmas music up and everyone got their preferred drinks, some danced while the rest of you wrapped up your presents

- You had even bought Oz a little gift, knowing that Angel would no doubt see him in LA when he was touring

- You had always been close with Oz and you knew that although he wasn’t big on Christmas, you wanted him to know that you thought about him

- Angel ended up crashing, literally having heard your music from across town

- He was a bit hurt that you hadn’t invited him but once you explained why, you swear he smiled at you

- Maybe just for a split second

- But that was a Christmas miracle in itself

- You hugged him and loaded him up with presents for him and his team

- He was really grateful and you all partied through the night

- Angel seemed to relax and so did everyone else

- There were drinking games and a lot of bad singing to Christmas hits

- After recovering from your party and saying bye to Angel (and wishing him good luck for his apocalypse) you all piled round to Giles’ place

- You promised that you would help decorate

-You and Buffy were in charge of the tree

- While Anya, Tara and Xander were hanging paper chains

- (with anya and Xander fighting over the placement)

- Willow had joined Giles in the kitchen, watching the cookies that they had made

- Willow and Tara had been very close at your party the night before

- You decided you needed to do a bit of match-making

- You asked Giles to help you reach the top of the tree, getting him out of the kitchen

- When Buffy saw what you were doing, she instantly understood and winked at you

- Buffy went over to Tara, under the pretence of saving her from being stuck in the middle of another argument with Xander and Anya

- The witch went into the kitchen, unaware that it had been perfectly orchestrated by you and Buffy

- When you heard laughter coming from the kitchen your heart leapt

- You could only hope they were going to be together again

- By the time you were done, the house looked amazing

- Giles thanked you all with festive drinks and freshly baked cookies

- Everyone kept asking you what you wanted for Christmas, you were apparently notoriously hard to buy for

- They all groaned when you told them your only wish was for snow

- Some days, you were such a cliché

- By Christmas Eve, you had all of your presents wrapped and ready to take to Giles’ for the next day

- You had made a short trip to the hospital to visit Faith, none of you had been on the best terms when she was last conscious

- But you wanted her to know that she had someone thinking about her at this time of year

- You knew how lonely she had always been

- You left a Christmas card on her bedside table and replaced the grapes with ones you had freshly bought

- You squeezed her hand and told her she was invited to Christmas dinner the next day if she could hear you

- You ran more errands through the day, it was your favourite time of year so you didn’t mind one bit

- Most of it was ingredients for the ever-growing menu Giles had been

- He had a lot of spare time on his hands and he wanted to make it a good festive celebration for everyone

- You were laden with loads of bags, weaving through gravestones

- It was at this point you realised if any demon came your way you would be a great target

- You would not let go of the bags if your life depended on it, so a vampire could very easily overpower you

- Luckily though, nobody had stopped you

- Perhaps even demons had a little bit of Christmas spirit

- (Or, maybe, they had better things to do)

- You knocked twice on the door of the crypt before you entered

-  Spike squinted at you before muttering something to the tombstone next to him

-Harmony removed the lid and popped out to greet you

- You weren’t necessarily close with them, but they liked that you weren’t threatening their lives every time you saw them

- So, they let you off on a lot of things that they wouldn’t with anyone else

- Namely, they let you live despite often walking into the crypt they were living out of uninvited

- “Oh, I’m glad you’re here Harm!” you found yourself saying, much to the room’s surprise (mostly your own)

- You reached into your bag

- (that was much more akin to Santa’s sack by now)

- You handed her a wrapped present, it was a unicorn figurine

- She ripped into it and squealed with excitement

- “Spikey, look! Look! Aw, how cute! I can restart my collection after my horrible minions destroyed the others”

- She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, whispering ‘oopsie’ when you made a noise that told her she was suffocating you

- “Don’t encourage her, pet, she’s already sending me round the bend about the bloody trinkets” He groaned as Harmony released you

- You were building yourself up to say something to Spike but you weren’t sure how to go about it

- You clutched the (gift wrapped) bottle of spirits in your hand, took a deep breath and tried your best

- “Spike, It’s Christmas and because at Christmas, you tell the truth… I wanted you to know that it wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t come to Giles for Christmas Dinner”

- Spike wasn’t convinced.

-He insisted it was a stupid idea, but he did snatch the liquor-shaped gift you bought him to try and convince him to come

- Honestly, as annoying as he could be, it just wouldn’t be the same without him at the meal

- It was a time to have good-will to all men (…women, people, demons and even vampires)

- So you wanted him to know he was invited

- He nodded at your gift and then gestured towards the black stocking hanging against the corner of one of the nicer tombstones in his crypt

- “Lucky dip” He said, a sparkle in his eye that meant only one thing

- It was some kind of trick

- You shuffled over there anyway, knowing that if you didn’t Harmony could probably bite you from where she was stood

- Having a chunk bitten out of you wouldn’t be the best Christmas present

- You reached in, frowning as you felt around inside the sock

- You retrieved your ‘present’, frowning at the object in your hands

- It was a single, unwrapped lump of coal

- “Uh, thanks… Spike. See you at Giles’ tomorrow”

- It was that or an tangerine, so you had lucked out really

- By Christmas morning, you were super excited

- You had always loved this time of year and you were so grateful to your little Scooby family

- You dressed quickly and made your way to Giles’, catching Dawn and Buffy on their way too

- Dawn hugged you and listed all the cool things that she had received from Buffy and her Mom

- (Joyce was on a trip for the holidays, healthy and promising to make it up to her girls in the new year)

- She liked talking to you because you never appeared to just be humouring her, you seemed genuinely enthusiastic about her new gifts

- Buffy mouthed ‘thank you’ to you and linked her arm with you

- You had never seen her so carefree and you were so glad that there had been no evil plots this Christmas

- When you arrived, Giles was busy in the kitchen but he did greet you over the sound of an electric mixer

- Willow and Tara arrived soon after, holding hands which made you smile

- Xander and Anya had even managed to keep the arguing to a minimum when they sat on the sofa in front of you

- It was so cosy and warm in Giles’ living room

- There was a fire, helped along by the coal you had sourced from Spike

- The tree looked beautiful in the corner and everyone was in a good mood

- You couldn’t remember a time when you and your friends had been so happy

- You laid the table as Xander found something festive on the tv

- Willow and Tara had brought dessert and were discussing the recipe with Anya who was looking into trying human hobbies in the new year

- She was apparently going to start with baking

- You all tucked into the meal, it was so much food but the best you had ever tasted

- Giles had covered every single food group

- After you couldn’t possibly eat any more of Giles’ food, you pulled Christmas crackers that Giles had brought

- You all groaned at the terrible jokes and fought over the colour of the little hats

- It was late afternoon when Spike took you all by surprise and entered the house, slamming the door behind him

- He grunted a greeting and went straight into piling a plate high with food

- You and Xander had to hold Buffy back more than once

- And Tara hid all the sharp wooden objects from the immediate area

- Giles gave you a withering look when he figured out who invited the vampire

- You apologised but convinced him that it was Christmas... which was your excuse for everything at this time of year

- It was lucky they were all so fond of you

- When you asked about why Harmony hadn’t come, Spike snorted almost shooting mashed potato through his nose

- He was on his third plate and it appeared to have a blood-gravy poured over the top which you tried not to think about too much

- “Didn’t want to come. ‘Fraid her archnemesis over there was setting a trap to ‘kill ‘er to death’” He gestured to Buffy who shrugged

- She was still 50/50 on whether or not to stake Spike, stating it would be giving the world a Christmas present

- But after a quick look from you, she rolled her eyes and ripped a turkey leg from the centre of the table

- Later on, you all played party games

- You paired with Giles, hoping that he would let you coast through the trivia questions

- Buffy and Xander were a team

- And Anya had to join with Willow and Tara (who were much more interested in each other than the game – which irritated a very competitive Anya)

- Dawn and Spike joined forces and managed beat you all

- Ending in you all accusing them of cheating

- Although none of you could figure out how they did it

- The argument settled down eventually and you swapped presents

- You all had a lot of fun that year and promised that this would be a new tradition

- Except Spike, who claimed that he would eat you all given half the chance

- You ignored this and focused on all the positive things

- Everyone loved your gifts

- And you got some great things, your friends knew you really well

- But your favourite gift came from Tara and Willow

- They led you outside, whispering under their breath

- You frowned for a moment until you saw it

- The first flakes of snow started to fall around you

- You couldn’t believe it, it never snowed in Sunnydale

- Everyone raced outside, making snowmen and snow angels

- You even had a massive snowball fight, where Spike sulked and went home when he realised he couldn’t even throw snow at you all without getting a headache

- You played in the snow until it the magic started to wear off

-You all went back in and warmed up, watching films together wrapped in blankets until late

- You couldn’t stop yourself grinning as you leaned against one of your friends

- It was the best Christmas you could remember

#btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagine #gn #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #Spike btvs #Buffy Summers #Dawn Summers #Rupert Giles #Willow Rosenberg #Angel btvs #ats #ats imagine #ats x reader #x reader #hc #tara maclay #faith lehane #anya jenkins #xander harris #oz #christmas #christmas fic

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: prologue

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x reader

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, soulmate, neglectful/abusive family, sexual repression, reader doesn't eat because Beelzebub is a dink, fluff, anxiety

Notes: I wrote this for me mostly

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(Name) Hummed to himself as he carried two buckets of water from the well, kicking a stone that was infront of him as he looked up at the clear summer sky as the wind blew the wild flowers along the path.

He was so exhausted, having woken at five am to start the day and prepare breakfast for his family, the buckets of water were to help his sister get ready for some event, apparently the demon princes were leaving their palace to find a mate of some sort, his sister was obsessed with them... He didn't really know much about them as he stayed in the village and his sister and parents tended to go into town whenever they could.

He didn't know if he wanted his sister to get chosen, on one hand he wouldn't have to deal with the beta woman and her... Well her but also he didn't want to be the focus of his parents, the two resentful of his gender combination as if he had any say in it "male Omega? Not natural" his mother would sneer as if it was some freak science expression, it's clearly natural if he's here.

Going through the back door, he slipped into the house shoes he was given and went up to his sister's room.

"So many alphas! They will have to choose me!" She swooned as she wore her best clothes for the princes, (name) silent as he helped her dress.

"Our soulmate marks with match and it will be wonderful!" She gushed and yelped when the dress was too tight, turning with a cold glare "watch it!" She screeched and slapped him hard across the face "damage this dress and I'll end you!"

He was so thankful when they were leaving, his sister getting into the carriage first as their father helped her in, the Alpha looking fondly at his daughter, turning to give a cold look to (name).

He will never understand their strife.

"Under no circumstances are you to leave this property, am I clear?" His mother hissed and (name) sighed, nodding "of course mother" he said evenly as the prudish beta scowled and turned away, going to the carriage where (father's name) helped her in, not even giving his son another glance before getting in himself and leaving.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he turned back to the house and the sound of silence echoed through the halls of this place he grew up in "finally... I'm taking a bath"

Despite being treated like dirt he still had a decent room in the back area and a bath, using his savings to get nesting supplies and the occasional nice thing for himself, taking a job at the local bakery until he can leave this place.

Leave this place and never look back.

Oh a dream.

(Name) Sunk into the bubbly water as he stared at his soulmate mark, a ring with a web in it, spikes at the top bottom and sides of the ring. He wondered who he was soulmates with... Would they love him?

Well let's just enjoy the silence while one can.

Alphas, betas and omegas lined up excitedly as the brothers looked over for their soulmate, each one presenting their soulmate mark but got shot down immediately by the demons.

(Sisters name) Looked excited as Asmodeus stepped towards her with a flirty grin, the young beta woman showing both her soulmate mark and her chest "am I who you're looking for?" She asked with a grin and the brunette looked at her with a smile "not even in the slightest" he whispered sweetly before a scent hit his nose.

"Is there another Omega you aren't showing us?" He asked with an earie tone, the scent was nothing like the omegas they seen before them no no... This was their omegas scent.

He knew it.

They were close, close enough for them.

"Where are they?"

The brothers entered the small country home, the sound of humming echoed in the furthest corner of the home and the alphas began their hunt.

(Name) Was dressed in a soft puffy tunic and casual pants as he made himself a sandwich, no one to stop the Omega from having an excellent lunch as he hummed softly, completely unaware that someone was watching him from the door... Specifically the soulmate mark on his arm.

Setting the sandwich down on a plate he went to go get some juice he squeezed that morning only to turn and see a red head in a fancy military outfit eating it, a sweet smile on his face and silence fell in the room before (name) spoke "who are you and why are you eating my fucking sandwich" (name) seethed out as the Alpha smiled "it's a good sandwich"

"Beelzebub, you don't take from our omega! You know better!" A voice barked out and (name) looked to see a tall black haired man with red eyes, horns on his head and "you're... Wait that means... Oh." (Name) Seemed to short circuit as he processed the fact that the princes his sister was obsessed with were in his kitchen for some god forsaken reason "why... May I ask are you here? Is it for my sister?"

"Who?" The sleepy prince asked and (name) seemed more distressed as pharamones escaped his scent glands "my sister! You know me but a beta and a woman! Kitchens aren't for princes...!" He seemed genuinely distressed and stressed out as he couldn't make sense of why there were there "shh~ it's alright... We smelt you on her, your family was keeping you away... I wonder why" a pretty man said getting close to (name) and pumping pharamones to calm him but (name) was to concerned on why they were here to begin with "you-- you called me your omega, what are you talking about?!"

"The soulmate mark" the black haired man stepped forward the pretty boy prince lifted his arm "see~? You're our mate!"

(Name) Tried to make sense as he was led out of the kitchen holding a glass of orange juice as his sister stood seething along with his parents.

Great.

Just what he needed after this bombshell.

"We will help you collect your things ~ don't worry you're always welcome to visit them!" The brief introduction stepping out, (name) learned the flirty one was named Asmodeus and the sa switch thief was Beelzebub and the black haired one was named Lucifer, the other brothers quieter but the blond one... Satan, he was analyzing the family closely and frankly, Satan could smell bs a mile away.

(Namely could feel the tension as he went to his room, Belphegor and Mammon following happily as the white haired demon looked at his mates room, much less nicer than the rest of the house and very small though the bed looked comfy to say the least "Bel, don't nap there" he said to his brother knowing if he did they would have to drag him out of that bed. (Name) Thought over on what he would need to bring, packing his important stuff and treasured items before going to his clothes "you don't gotta bring that... Unless there's something pretty in there" Mammon teased and (name) looked scandalized at his words only for the demon to laugh.

(Name) Didn't have many belongings so the packing was quick as Mammon held the bags, giving (name) a tight lipped smile when he tried to take them "(name), don't make the princes hold your things!" His mother scolded him and (name) went rigid and went to take the bags anxiously but Asmodeus gently took one of his hands instead "ah, but what alphas would we be if you not help OUR omegas things?" (Name) Tried not to make eye contact with his family as his sister seethed, he knew she wasn't going to make a scene here; not with so many people.

Not infront of the men she obsessed over.

(Name) Was ushered to the carriages where Lucifer helped him in, he could hear his sister argue with their parents as he was seated between Mammon and Lucifer, their pharamones making him a bit dizzy as Beelzebub and Leviathan sat infront of him.

(Name) Didn't know what to say as the demons spoke amongst themselves and Mammon kept an arm around (name)s shoulders, the smell of his expensive cologne and pharamones were tempting but (name) tried to not react "I'm quite surprised" Beelzebub commented as he snacked on some candies he stored in the carriage "what do you mean?"(Name) Asked curiously, voice soft and careful as the reality of everything set in "you haven't went into preheat, it's weird" he said simply and (name) seemed uncomfortable before speaking "o-oh, I'm on really strong suppressants..." He explained awkwardly and the others seemed to understand a bit "when was your last heat?" Lucifer asked in a serious tone and (name) bit his lip "uh... Three years ago?"

Oh he did not like the the silence that fell in the carriage "Asmo and Satan are gonna be piiiised" mammon said with a laugh and Lucifer sighed "we are going to have to take you off those... You're only supposed to be on those for a few months and then off for a few months" Lucifer said seriously and (name) nodded, worried about well... Mating with them.

Oh god, he's barely spoken to someone outside his family let alone sat with the concept of mating!

God he didn't even -- no one's explained that to him other than keep your legs closed and being shamed deeply for being an Omega!

Oh god it was really settling in now.

There goes his day dreams of living in the woods.

Fuck.

The ride was silent for the rest of the trip save for the occasional crunch from Beelzebub, reminding (name) that he hadn't eaten yet as the red haired man infront of him ate away happily but (name) didn't say anything about his stomach turning into knots as he remembered what his mother taught him, the betas words like venom in his brain.

'an Omega lives to serve, your needs don't matter over your alphas, never ask for something-- only accept if offered'

So he ignored the knots in his stomach, ignoring the fact he was starving and hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon due to the rush of preparing his sister for something that he ended up getting.

Oh god she seemed pissed, like he had never seen that much anger from one person holy shit, god be did not want to have to deal with that. He's probably going to see her at the wedding, fuck there was going to be a wedding! He's going to be marrying seven princes! Fucking hell did that mean he was a royal!?

"We're here!" Mammon said as Lucifer was out fast to help (name) out, the Omega snapping from his meltdown to see the gloved hand and gently took it, helped out and kept close "this is your home now!" Asmodeus said charmingly as he walked beside him "I'm sure we will get along VERY well"

#male reader #x make reader #x reader #reader insert #omega male reader #omegaverse #anime x male reader #anime x reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x reader

[starlitmark]

Summary: He already knocked you up, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing to him. Pairing: Dilf!Seonghwa x fem!reader Tropes: dilf au, established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, pregnancy, aged up!Seonghwa Smut Warning: unprotected sex, cream pie, pregnant sex, cumplay, clitoral stimulation, fingering, oral (f receive) Word Count: 1,174 Host Tag: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ 3D by Jungkook

Since that week, Seonghwa has had you locked up in your bedroom together. He’s been attached to your hip any chance he’s gotten. About a month after that week in the summer, you found out you were pregnant. Of course, Seonghwa was over the moon and wanted to tell his daughter, but you told him to hold off until you told her mother first. When you and Seonghwa met up with her to inform her of your pregnancy, she had her drawbacks. One, you were the nanny. As far as she knew, you weren’t dating. (Which had changed since the first time she met you). Two, you’re much younger than both of them are. Which isn’t her concern, but she still said it. Regardless, she knew now, which meant you could tell Seonghwa’s daughter. She was over the moon that she was getting a new baby. She was convinced she was getting a sister. She was right. 

Seonghwa was the one who was the most vocal about his excitement. It even went as far as a new kink discovery. You both knew about it, but now it was much more present. Since you told him, he’s had an obsession with cumming inside you and watching it drip out. Often times he’ll finger it back into you until you cum again. To say the least, he’s also really enjoying this libido spike induced by your pregnancy.

“Seonghwa,” you whine, nails gripping at his shoulder.

“I got you, love.” He moans in your ear, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the small bits of silver hair growing in by his temple.

You throw your head back against the pillow harder. Seonghwa starts lining small kisses along your neck and shoulder as his slow, smooth thrusts continue at the same pace. You’ve had him in so many different ways over the years of being with him, first as a quick release, then much more. The way he holds you gently and slowly helps an orgasm burn through you has to been one of your favorite ways to have him. 

“Such a pretty girl, fuck,” he groans, “You’re so tight and warm around me. Can’t believe I get to be the one who helps you become a mom.”

It’s a silly comment to say during sex, but it warms your heart still. You hold him tighter as if you could get any closer than skin-to-skin. Seonghwa pulls back slightly to capture your lips in a kiss that conveys a thousand emotions in one. 

“My pretty fiancée,” he sighs against your lips, “All mine.”

Soon enough, you feel that familiar heat bubbling in your stomach. You don’t need to tell your fiancé what’s impending. He already knows. His hand snakes between your bodies to toy with your clit in just the right way. Your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him there as you ride out your high. Seonghwa’s follows not long after. He cums inside you, making you whimper at the feeling of the warm ropes inside you as you come down from your own high. Seonghwa thrusts shallowly a few more times as he coasts through his high. He starts laughing airly as he comes down from his orgasmic high, still plugging his cum inside you.

“What are you laughing about?” You ask quietly.

He kisses your temple, “Soon enough, we won’t be able to fuck like this. Little Miss is still relatively tiny now, but give it a few months.”

You whine, “Don’t remind me, I’m gonna look like a whale.”

Seonghwa chuckles at you again before pulling back so there’s space between you, but he’s still inside you. You let out a broken, quiet gasp as he starts to pull out. The feeling of his cum trickling out of you is something you could always feel. Some people can’t stand the sensation. You can’t get enough of it. The moment he’s fully pulled out, you’re immediately met with the feeling of his fingers on your clit again.

“So damn pretty with my cum leaking out of you. I could look at your pretty pussy like this forever.”

“Hwa,” you whine, “‘M sensitive.”

“I know, my love. I know. You’re so good for me.”

You watch him and take in the absolute beauty that he is. He has small wrinkles on his eyes from smiling so much and very faint ones on his forehead. As much as he gets annoyed by the small lines, you absolutely adore them. The small pieces of silver hair growing in only add to his beauty in your eyes. You watch as he pushes his fingers into you, pushing his cum back into you. He leans down, eyes fixated on yours as his tongue comes out of his mouth and finds purchase on your abused clit. Your back arches off of the mattress at the sensation. He’ll never admit it out loud, but the taste of your arousal mixed with his cum is something he can’t get enough of, either. 

Your hands fly down to lace through his salt and pepper hair. Your engagement ring stands out against his mostly dark locks. It makes the entire situation that much more exhilarating. He’s yours. All yours. And you’re all his. He uses his fingers and tongue in the perfect way that takes you to your second orgasm of the afternoon. 

He kisses up your stomach, giving a few extra to your belly, before locking your lips together. You kiss for a while until the feeling of drying cum finally starts to get to you. Seonghwa steps into your en suite to get a damp cloth and clean you up before himself.

Collapsing in bed beside you, he pulls you close—your back against his chest. One hand runs gently over your baby bump while the other fiddles with your fingers and engagement ring. Neither of you speaks for a few moments; the comfortable envelopes you. The only sound that is heard is the sound of your heating system turning on and your breathing.

“Do you think she’ll be like Haeeun?” He mumbles, half asleep.

You smile and giggle lightly, “Maybe we’ll just need to wait a few more months to find out.”

“Four months, two weeks, and four days, to be exact.”

You snuggle closer. Just knowing he tracks your pregnancy as close as you are makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your doctor did say that the butterflies in your stomach randomly could very well be your daughter, too. 

“Daddy!” you hear Haeeun call.

Seonghwa chuckles, “She probably wants to cuddle. You get dressed and meet us on the couch, okay?”

“Movie time?” you smile. Seonghwa nods, “I’ll be right there.”

Seonghwa leans over and kisses your lips softly before climbing out of bed to get dressed. You follow right behind him, kissing his shoulder before he walks away.

“I love you, old man.” You tease.

“Watch it, my love.” He playfully chastises, “You may be carrying our baby, but I will still punish you for acting out.”

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